Karin Baine - Midwife Under The Mistletoe

‘I’ll let you know. I guess moving day will just have to wait.’

Fraser nodded and with her last obligation here taken care of, Iona was able to make her escape from the claustrophobia of these four walls.

* * *

There was nothing akin to driving out on the open road, radio blasting and singing along at the top of your voice where no one could hear. Iona loved her job. Sure, it was challenging, the hours long with no discernible time for breaks, but it was rewarding. Not only did she get to accompany these women throughout their pregnancies and sometimes get to welcome their babies into the world herself, she was able to enjoy her independence on a daily basis.

She was free to drive out here in the beautiful Scottish countryside, often travelling for miles between each of her appointments. It gave her that sense of empowerment over her destiny, even though she was still technically an employee.

Her freedom was everything to her after her marriage, during which Andy had practically held her prisoner. She’d been blinded by love in those early days, unable to see how he was slowly isolating her from friends and family, insisting he was the only one she needed in her life. Cut off from anyone who could’ve helped her, she’d been at the mercy of his temper when it had shown itself. He’d used any excuse to lash out at her—if the dinner had been overcooked or she’d been wearing too much make-up—but towards the end he hadn’t even bothered making excuses to beat her it had become so commonplace.

Iona flinched, almost able to feel those blows raining down on her after all this time. It was then she had understood why her mother had endured her own loveless relationship for so long. She’d been worn down, cut off from the outside world with no means to support herself financially when she’d sacrificed everything for her family. It had been Andy’s talk of babies and her mother’s death that had finally galvanised Iona into action. She could never have brought a child into that toxic atmosphere when she’d grown up in similar herself and had followed the pattern into adulthood.

It had taken death to enable her mother to leave her own marriage and Iona hadn’t been prepared to wait for the same fate. The strength she’d found to walk out on Andy and file for divorce had carried her on to university and to carve out a whole new life for herself.

Placements during her training had seen Iona working in hospitals and birth clinics but that environment had been a conveyor belt of women passing through her hands with no room to get to know them on a personal level. Life as a community midwife gave her much more of an intimate connection, visiting the patients at home and being on hand as they settled into family life.

* * *

She took a bite of the pre-packed sandwich she’d bought at the garage on the way back from Mrs Gillen’s. Car picnics were Iona’s speciality, if not the hearty dinner she’d been hoping to have in her own place tonight. Now all she wanted was to get back and collapse into bed.

It had been a tough day all round with having to deliver baby Gillen’s diagnosis. The family had been rocked by the news and it would take some time to come to terms with what it meant for them but they had family close to provide a good support system.

With some liaising with the hospital team she’d managed to arrange a meeting for them tomorrow morning so hopefully that would ease their minds that their son would still live a full and active life with proper guidance.

She’d talked them through the basics of PKU, as outlined in Fraser’s printouts, leaving the experts to discuss the day-to-day realities. There had been no need to panic them by overloading them with information when they couldn’t do anything until they’d seen the metabolic consultant and dietician who’d be overseeing the treatment.

The circumstances, however, dictated Iona had stayed with the family much longer than she’d anticipated and she’d been forced to push the rest of her appointments back. It wasn’t something she was happy doing to people waiting in for her but given the cold weather her patients had assured her they’d no intention of venturing outside today. She didn’t blame them. Given half a chance, she’d have stayed indoors with a mug of hot chocolate and a cheesy Christmas film on the TV.

Of course, the extra time had meant not only had she missed out on her afternoon off but the surgery would likely be closed by now and she’d wanted to stop by to grab a few things for tomorrow.

After eight months in the village Iona knew the area pretty well but in the dark, with the first flurry of snow visible in the car headlights, these remote roads were daunting, to say the least. When she saw the lights on at the clinic ahead she breathed a sigh of relief that she’d made it back in one piece and she could stock up on supplies for tomorrow’s excursions.

It would be an early start tomorrow again in order to keep up to date with all of her patients and paperwork. Being a midwife required stamina and not for the first time she was glad she didn’t have to go home and go straight into wife and mother mode to keep others happy. As soon as she was done here she could go home and slip into the guise of knackered singleton guilt-free.

‘Hello. It’s Iona. Can you let me in?’ She rapped on the clinic window, hoping whoever was here, cleaning or catching up on last-minute paperwork, would open up.

‘I hope you’re not expecting overtime.’ Fraser’s dour tone almost tipped her over the edge into a rant about putting her patients above financial gain and her own plans, until she saw the tease playing on his lips. In her exhausted state Iona wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with the sight.

‘I just want to restock with supplies for tomorrow morning.’ Iona didn’t rise to the bait, not willing to prolong her working day any longer than necessary. With his large frame filling the doorway, she chose to duck under his arm as he held the door open, rather than take the chance of touching him again by pushing past.

‘How is Mrs Gillen?’ Unable to take the hint that she didn’t want him near her, Fraser followed her into the stockroom. Iona should’ve known he’d want a full account to analyse if she’d handled the situation correctly, no doubt concerned he’d be the one to pick up the pieces if Marie fell apart.

‘Shocked, obviously, but reasonably calm. I passed on the printouts you provided.’ He could give himself a pat on the back that he’d participated in some way if that’s what he was interested in.

‘Good. Good. Would you like me to make an emergency appointment to discuss any concerns with her?’ With his arms folded and resting casually against the shelves, Fraser left scant breathing space in the small room. There really was no reason for them both to be crammed in here so Iona forced her way past into the corridor so she wasn’t suffocated by his spicy aftershave.

‘No, I’ve made arrangements for her at the metabolic unit. The consultant and dietician will take over from here.’

She doubted he’d be one hundred percent happy about being out of the loop but there were areas even out of his expertise.

‘They know best,’ he conceded politely.

‘How come you’re here so late?’ Usually you could set your watch by Fraser, who tried to keep office hours when he wasn’t on call. He’d never have made it as a midwife.

The idea of him in blue scrubs, tootling around the countryside in her small car, made her grin and she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her amusement.

‘I thought I’d swot up on PKU while I was waiting for you.’

The admission made her do an about-turn. ‘Me? What on earth for?’

Their contretemps over the decorations immediately sprang to mind, along with that back-of-the-neck tingling sensation. Her pulse apparently thought she was in a sprint and other parts of her were reminding her it had been a long time since she’d been with a man and she should simply acknowledge this growing attraction for her colleague. If the opportunity arose to get close again, she couldn’t be certain common sense would get any say in the matter when her hormones were currently doing all the talking.