A Little Christmas Magic (3 page)

‘Right, then.’ His movements were brisk as he logged out of his computer and flicked off the desk lamp. ‘It’s getting late. I suppose I’d better take you home.’

T
HE DARKNESS OF
a winter’s night engulfed the vehicle as it left the outskirts of Braeburn village behind.

Emma eyed the dashboard radio controls longingly. Driving anywhere without music was an alien experience for her but Dr McAllister clearly wasn’t going to allow distractions while he was driving. Fair enough. It was raining hard now and the lights were catching a mist of white speckles that suggested it was trying to turn into sleet.

Would conversation also be deemed a distraction? She risked a sideways glance and had to tilt her chin upwards. Even sitting down, Adam McAllister was tall. Well over six feet. Walking beside him into the clinic’s car park had made Emma feel very small. He hadn’t said anything then either, apart from an offer to carry her bag, which had sounded more like a command than an invitation.

Clearly she hadn’t really made a good impression on her new employer but at least he was prepared to give her a chance. Any optimism that she could change his mind was fading now, however, as she took in a profile that was stern enough to suggest an inability to suffer fools gladly.

Imagine running the gauntlet of that snappy little terrier of a receptionist in order to see such an unapproachable
GP? You’d have to be really sick, Emma decided. And I’ll bet his patients never forget to take their pills.

‘What?’

The terse query was enough to make Emma jump. Coupled with the effect of Adam taking his eyes off the road to glare at her for a second, it actually made her heart skip a beat, but the fear that she might have spoken aloud was forgotten as fast as it had appeared.

In the dim reflected light of the dashboard controls, Adam’s eyes looked black under equally dark brows. His hair was long enough to be a little unruly and a single lock had detached itself from the rest to flop across his forehead. The crazy desire to reach out and put that curl back where it belonged was so inappropriate that Emma caught her breath in an audible gasp.

She must have sounded as if she’d suddenly decided she might be in the company of an axe murderer, given the way those dark brows lifted. With his gaze safely back on the road, Adam sounded vaguely uncomfortable with the effect he’d had.

‘I thought I heard you say something,’ he muttered. ‘About the hills.’

‘Oh …’ Emma turned to stare ahead through the windscreen but her gaze caught Adam’s hand on the steering-wheel as she did so. He had long fingers and neatly cut nails and … dear Lord … a wedding ring? Why hadn’t he mentioned his wife? Why hadn’t she been at the interview instead of his mother? Confused, Emma struggled to find a response to his comment. ‘It
is
hilly, isn’t it? Do you live far from the village?’

‘Only another mile or so. Don’t worry, you’ll have a car to use.’

‘Wow … that’s great.’ Personal transport was an unexpected bonus. ‘Thank you.’

The soft snort sounded exasperated. ‘You’ll need it. There’s a lot of driving involved in getting the children to where they need to be. Poppy has a Highland dance class once a week and Oliver is starting drumming lessons in addition to his bagpipes class. On top of that, the school does a nativity play and there’ll be rehearsals almost every day after school. You’ll also be responsible for grocery shopping and other chores, like going to the vet. One of the dogs is having treatment at the moment for a foot injury.’

Emma was trying to listen carefully to her job description but she was still thinking about the mysteriously absent wife. And then it was too easy to get distracted by the cadence of Adam’s deep voice and the gorgeous accent. She only realised she was smiling when she caught the movement of his head as it turned in her direction again. Hastily, she rearranged her face.

‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing serious.’

‘A torn pad, that’s all. But I didn’t notice in time and it got infected.’

Although it looked like they were in the middle of nowhere, Adam put the indicator on and slowed the vehicle, turning through a gap in a tall stone wall. The headlights shone on what looked like a scene from a gothic movie, with the bare branches of massive old trees twisting out to meet each other and create a tunnel—the smaller branches like claws reaching out towards Emma. She shivered.

‘It’ll be warm inside.’

Startled, Emma looked sideways but Adam was concentrating on driving around the biggest lumps the tree roots were making in the driveway. He couldn’t possibly have seen her shiver unless he had exceptionally acute peripheral vision. She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d
looked at her in his clinic either … as if he knew something she’d rather he didn’t know.

A prickle of sensation ran down her spine. She really needed to curb her overactive imagination. Any minute now and she’d have Mrs McAllister buried somewhere down that spooky driveway and she’d be going into the rather forbidding-looking two-storeyed stone farmhouse to find it devoid of a friendly grandmother or any children. There would just be a dark hallway and a ticking grandfather clock and Dr McAllister would shut the door behind her and turn the lock and say—

‘So … here we are, then.’

She made an odd squeaking sound as Adam took on his role in her wild train of thought with such perfect timing but then the absurdity of it all surfaced and she had to stop herself laughing aloud.

And then—unexpectedly—she got a rush of pure relief. She’d come here in the hope of finding a distraction from the fear of waiting for news that would have her imagining only her own funeral. Well … she’d already succeeded, hadn’t she? She hadn’t given her upcoming tests a moment’s thought since she’d arrived in Braeburn.

She found herself beaming at her new employer. ‘I’m excited,’ she confessed. ‘I do love starting a new job.’

‘So it would seem,’ Adam said drily. ‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’

He led Emma in to the vaulted hallway of the house his family had owned for generations, making a mental note not to forget to wind the grandfather clock this week, heading straight for the door from which the most light was spilling, along with the sound of voices and laughter.

The kitchen. The heart of his home.

Halfway there they were mobbed by the dogs, who
gave their master only a perfunctory welcome before investigating the interesting new arrival. Adam paused to watch the effect, knowing that if Emma had been less than honest about liking animals, it would show up in a matter of seconds. And if she didn’t like dogs, she probably didn’t like children either and he’d know if he’d made a huge mistake in bringing her into his home.

Almost knocked off her feet by fluffy paws being planted on her stomach, Emma gave a startled exclamation but then her voice was stern.

‘Paws on the floor, please,’ she commanded. ‘And then I can pat you.’

Amazingly, the dogs sat promptly, gazing adoringly up at the newcomer. Emma dropped to her haunches, abandoning her guitar case in favour of cuddling the animals. Getting her face washed enthusiastically, she was laughing as she looked up at Adam.

‘They’re gorgeous. And so …
hairy
.’

‘That’s Benji. He’s a beardie. And Bob’s the Border collie.’ Part of him wanted to smile back at Emma but another part was fighting a sense of … disappointment? His new employee had passed this test with flying colours, hadn’t she?

It looked like he was stuck with her for the foreseeable future.

The children weren’t far behind the dogs.

‘Emma—Emma! Gran says you’re going to be looking after us now.’ With practised ease, Poppy squeezed past the dogs to grab Emma’s hand. ‘Come with me. I want to show you Barbie’s pony. And her caravan. And her swimming pool.’

Oliver eyed the guitar case and then his father. ‘It’s “later” now, isn’t it, Dad?’

‘Ach …’ Catherine came out of the kitchen door, wiping
her hands on her apron. ‘Let’s give Emma a wee bit o’ time to get settled, shall we? Come on. All of you. Supper’s almost ready.’

Adam left the backpack he’d been carrying beside the clock. Poppy kept hold of Emma’s hand to show her where to go, with Benji following as closely as possible. Oliver picked up the guitar case, which was as big as he was, and struggled in their wake. Bob stayed sitting and held up a bandaged paw.

‘I know.’ Adam stooped to scratch the hopefully pricked ears. ‘I need to take care of that paw but it’ll have to be later. It’s a bit of a circus for now.’

Like his life. A juggling act. One that entailed keeping far too many balls in the air without dropping them. There was no applause for keeping them going either—just the prospect of disaster if they got dropped.

After the spooky driveway and the austere outlines of the huge, old stone farmhouse, walking into the kitchen was so far towards the other end of a welcoming spectrum that it was almost overwhelming.

A crackling open fire at one end of the room made it so warm Emma knew she’d have to take her pullover off very soon. The lights gave the oak cabinetry a golden glow and there was an amazing smell of something hot and meaty that made her mouth water. Good grief … she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually felt
hungry.

‘Look …’ Poppy pointed to a fridge that was covered with pieces of paper and photographs held in place by small magnets. ‘I drawed that. It’s my mummy. She’s got wings because she’s an angel.’

‘Oh?’ The statement had been completely matter-of-fact but Emma wasn’t sure how to take it. Was Mummy
exceptionally kind or was she dead? Catherine was busy putting oven gloves on and didn’t seem to have overheard the comment and she didn’t like to ask Poppy. No doubt she would find out in good time.

‘I drawed this one, too. It’s Daddy and Bob and Benji.’

‘It’s very good. They all look very happy.’

Not that Emma could imagine Adam actually having such a wide grin on his face. Glancing back, she saw him standing in the doorway, all but glowering at the scene in front of him. She also saw Oliver bumping the guitar case on the flagstone floor.

‘That’s a bit heavy for you.’ Easing out of Poppy’s firm grip on her hand, Emma went to rescue the guitar. ‘I’ll put it over here for now, yes?’

‘No,’ Oliver said. ‘I want to see.’ With his eyebrows fiercely frowning like that, he looked remarkably similar to his father.

‘It’s time to eat,’ Catherine told him. ‘Poor Emma’s been travelling all day and she must be famished. And then I’m going to show her to her room and drive all the way to Edinburgh to the airport.’

Poppy’s face fell dramatically. ‘But I don’t want you to go, Granny. You’ll miss
Christmas.
’

‘No, I won’t.’ Catherine was opening a door on the stove that was set into an old chimney lined with blue and white tiles. She took out a cast-iron pot that looked as old as the kitchen and carried it to the table. ‘They have Christmas in Canada too, you know. I’ll be calling you and telling you all about your new wee cousin.’

‘We can video chat.’ Adam moved to the table and picked up a bread knife. He began slicing the crusty loaf on a thick wooden board. ‘You’ll be able to see the bairn as well.’

Poppy sniffed loudly. Emma took hold of her hand
again and bent to whisper in her ear. ‘Can you show me where to sit? It’s such a
big
table.’

‘You can sit beside me.’

In a short space of time Emma was installed on one of the old, oak chairs beside Poppy, with Oliver and Catherine on the other side of the table. Adam was at the top. Past him, she could see the dogs stretched out in front of the fire, with her guitar case propped against the wall nearby, looking as out of place as she was.

Except, oddly, she didn’t
feel
out of place at all. She looked up at the whitewashed ceiling with its dramatic dark beams, across at the pretty tiles around the stove and the cluster of antique kettles and pots on the floor beside it. The room could have been part of a museum, except that it was so alive with the feeling of family.

It wasn’t just the fridge that was covered with works of art and photographs. There was a huge corkboard on the wall and a bookshelf that had framed photographs amongst the books and a shelf clearly devoted to things the children had made, like an odd-looking robot constructed out of cardboard boxes and tubes and a chunky effort in clay that could possibly represent Benji. Or maybe Daddy.

‘It’s only stew, I’m sorry,’ Catherine said, as she ladled an aromatic mix of meat and vegetables onto Emma’s plate. ‘I forgot that we might be welcoming a visitor today.’

A visitor? The feeling of family was so strong Emma had forgotten that that was what she was. How could anyone not feel completely at home in here? And the food was delicious.

‘This is perfect,’ Emma assured Catherine. A lot better than anything she’d be able to produce in the kitchen. Oh … help … Had she really made Adam believe she could
cook in that interview? Her job in the restaurant had been limited to clearing tables and washing dishes. And had Catherine made that bread herself, too? Possibly even churned the butter, she thought as she accepted the blue and white dish being passed her way by Adam.

She didn’t need to cross that bridge quite yet, though. And maybe it was Catherine that Adam had inherited that fey ability to see things from. She was smiling at Emma as they all tucked into their dinners.

‘I’ve left lots of meals in the freezer and there’s a modern oven as well as the big stove, if you need it. The children get a hot lunch at school so you’ll only have to cope with breakfast for most of the time.’

‘Did the turkey for Christmas arrive?’ Adam asked.

‘Aye. It’s in the freezer as well. Don’t forget to take it out at least a couple of days early. Leave it in the big tub out in the dairy to thaw.’

‘I don’t like stew,’ Oliver announced a few minutes later. ‘It’s got carrots in it.’

‘Carrots are good for you,’ Emma offered. ‘They help you see in the dark.’

‘I don’t need to see in the dark,’ Oliver said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’m
asleep
.’

‘If you don’t eat your carrots,’ Adam said calmly, ‘there’ll be no ice cream.’

‘I don’t like ice cream.’

‘I do,’ Poppy sighed. ‘I
love
ice cream.’