by Andrews, Amy
Nash rubbed his chin, the rough stubble pricking his palm. ‘I could try and be here for the birth.’
Maggie swallowed. Now, that would be hard. How was she supposed to keep emotional distance from him during something as intimate as giving birth to his child?
‘I could probably come back every few months.’
Maggie could see he was thinking hard about the possibilities and was relieved. She picked up her train of thought. ‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘And these days there’s so many ways that we can keep in touch.’
‘You could visit me. Maybe? It wouldn’t be much of a picnic, dragging a baby halfway round the world, but I’d pay for you to come business class. I know you’re not keen to come to London...’
Maggie was touched by his thoughtfulness and that he was really trying to meet her halfway. She was fully aware he could have turned nasty. But she guessed that was the difference between duty and love.
It was easy to be removed when feelings weren’t involved.
‘I could probably do a holiday,’ she replied. ‘Depends on the baby, I guess. If he’s—’
‘He?’ Nash interrupted.
Maggie blushed and placed her hand across her belly. ‘Oh, sorry. I just...have a feeling.’
A son.
Maggie could be carrying his son. Nash’s gaze flicked to her hand splayed against her tummy. ‘Will you find out?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
He wouldn’t be here for that. Or to see her belly grow round. And he may well miss the birth. What other things would he miss out on?
First words. First steps.
‘I can send you the pictures from the ultrasound if you like. Hell we can FaceTime during it. In fact, we can FaceTime every day if you want.’ While her heart slowly broke. ‘You’ll probably see more of him than a lot of men do of their kids who live under the same roof.’
Nash considered it. Maybe she was right. It was only for the first couple of years. When he returned they could work out a better arrangement. Maybe she’d come back home with him. She might be willing to do that when he was back in the same country. There’d be nothing to stop her.
Unless...
A sudden thought sent a chill straight up his spine, needling into the base of his skull.
‘What if you meet someone else, Maggie?’ How would he handle another man being a father to his child?
Another man sharing her bed?
Maggie’s hand tightened against her stomach and she forced out a laugh. ‘That won’t happen.’
He frowned. ‘How can you be so sure?’
Because I love you, idiot! Because he’d ruined her for all men.
‘There’s no room left in here.’ She tapped her chest. ‘It’s full up with love for this little guy. Nothing’s more important than this.’ She patted her stomach. ‘No one’s ever going to take my focus off him. No one.’
Maggie wished she could wring the same commitment from Nash. The thought of all those English girls falling for his country-boy charm had her hovering between depression and jealousy. But that had been one of the perils of getting involved with a much younger man.
And she’d known it.
Nash was young and unattached — he was supposed to be out there, playing the field.
Nash blinked at the conviction in her voice. He believed her. Still, it sounded like a lonely life for her. And for a second he worried that Maggie was shutting herself off from life’s possibilities. But then, perversely, as a naked flame of jealousy scorched his veins, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to ever have to think about another man touching her like he had. To share what they’d shared.
It was horrendously selfish and he should be ashamed of himself. But he wasn’t. And he didn’t care.
The waitress brought the bill and Nash paid it as Maggie stood. ‘So? What do you think?’ she asked. ‘Do you think we’ve come to a reasonable compromise?’
Nash mulled over her question. The truth was it didn’t sit well with him. It still felt like he was shirking his responsibilities.
He doubted his parents would be impressed.
But, as she’d said, it was a compromise. He could hardly drag her to London when she didn’t want to go.
He had no doubt there was legal recourse but he knew if he forced her to do something she didn’t want to do, it could do irreparable damage to their relationship. And she was the mother of his child. It was in both their interests and particularly in the interest of his unborn son — oh, God he was doing it now — to keep things amicable.
Hell. How had their fun, easy relationship become so complicated?
‘It sounds like a start,’ he said.
They walked in silence the short distance to their cars. Maggie turned as she reached for her door handle. ‘Should we shake on it?’ She held out her hand.
Nash looked at it, then up into her face. She was looking at him with her big brown eyes and he wanted nothing more than to go back to her place and hold her while they fell asleep.
He lifted a hand, stroking her fringe back and tracing her cheekbone until he was cupping her jaw. ‘I think we’ve passed that, don’t you?’
His voice was soft and his gaze was on her mouth and Maggie couldn’t have stopped her eyes fluttering shut or the sway of her body towards his had her life depended on it. It had been days since he’d kissed her and she yearned for the feel of his lips.
Nash lowered his head and dropped a soft kiss against her pliant mouth. Her sigh encouraged him to linger a little longer and he deepened the kiss. But when she moaned he knew they were treading on dangerous ground. She was tired and he knew this wasn’t the kind of intimacy she’d allow if she had her wits about her.
Not anymore.
‘Go home, get some sleep,’ he whispered against her lips, dragging his mouth away and planting a soft kiss on her forehead before turning away and heading to his car.
Maggie watched him open his door, get in, start it up and drive away, all the time her heart breaking. How was she ever going to watch him walk away for good?
‘What are you wearing to the ball?’ Linda asked a few days later as she came round at the start of the late shift to check on how each of her staff members were getting on with their patients. Maggie had been allocated Toby again. She’d developed a real rapport with his parents and a definite soft spot for the little battler.
‘Oh, damn!’ Maggie slapped herself on the forehead. ‘I’ve forgotten all about it.’ To be fair to herself, she did have quite a bit on her mind and the tickets had been purchased in August.
‘I bought myself this swanky little number with a corset-style bodice. Phil’s gonna drool all night when he sees it.’
Maggie laughed at her friend. The Christmas Eve ball was not only the highlight of the hospital calendar but the highlight of Linda and Phil’s calendar too. Linda’s parents took the kids to Carols by Candlelight on the Brisbane River while Linda and Phil lived it up for one night of the year.
Of course, they felt like hell at six a.m. when six children landed on their bed demanding to open their presents from Santa.
‘I guess I’ll need to go shopping for something.’
‘Da.’ Linda bugged her eyes at Maggie. ‘Only seventeen more sleeps.’
Maggie laughed again. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘Are you counting down sleeps to Christmas or shopping days remaining?’ Nash enquired as he stopped by Maggie’s bedside to deliver Toby’s latest blood-gas results.
Linda shook her head. ‘Neither. Sleeps until the ball,’ she informed Nash. ‘Although it does help that the kids’ Christmas countdown happens to coincide. You are coming, I hope?’
Maggie threw a quick prayer into the ether. Nash in chinos and Levi’s was hard enough to ignore. Nash in a tux?
Now, that would be a magnificent sight indeed.
‘I bought my ticket in August,’ he confirmed, ‘but I’ve got a morning shift Christmas Day so I’m not sure if it’s wise.’
/> Maggie held her breath. Maybe he wouldn’t come?
‘Oh, you poor old man,’ Linda teased. ‘Can’t party all night and work the next day anymore?’
Nash grinned, responding to Linda’s well-intentioned banter but conscious of Maggie growing stiller and stiller beside him. ‘Well, I am thirty now.’
‘Oh, right. Hey, Maggie’s going and she’s working the next day. She’s got a whole decade on you.’
Maggie winced. She caught Nash’s furtive look at her and wished the floor would open and swallow her. She didn’t need Linda’s reminder of just how idiotic she’d been to think she could play with fire and not get burned.
‘I’ve got to face six children after about two hours’ sleep,’ Linda continued, oblivious to the currents churning around her. ‘And then cook for twenty-six people coming to my house for Christmas dinner. So don’t give me any of your paltry excuses.’
Nash winced, horrified just listening to Linda’s Christmas line-up. ‘Well, in that case...’
‘Good. You can sit at our table,’ Linda said patting him on the shoulder. ‘Unless you’re bringing a partner?’
Maggie swallowed. Oh, God, he wouldn’t, would he?
Nash caught Maggie’s sudden pallor. ‘Nope,’ he hastened to assure Linda. ‘Just me.’
Maggie breathed again. She couldn’t have sat at the same table with him while some other woman fawned over him.
‘It’s settled, then.’
‘Are you sure?’ Nash asked, flicking a brief glance at Maggie, pleased to see her cheeks pinking up again, before returning his attention to Linda. ‘I don’t want to kick anyone off.’
‘Of course, we haven’t worked out final seating anyway.’
He chanced another glance at Maggie. Her face was neutral. Hard to read. Did she want him there? Moreover, could he sit near her, dressed to the nines without wanting to touch her?
Probably not.
‘Thank you. I’d be honoured.’
Maggie was relieved when Nash’s pager beeped and he excused himself. Standing next to him, pretending nothing had happened between them, was weird. Standing next to him, knowing she was carrying his child, was plain bizarre.
‘Hmm-mmm,’ Linda murmured. ‘Now there’s some eye candy that’s gonna look smokin’ in a tux.’
Maggie shook her head at her friend’s blatant ogling. It felt strange to witness another woman’s admiration given how intimately she knew Nash. She even felt a streak of white-hot jealousy stab her in the chest. ‘Hey. What about Phil?’ she protested.
Linda shook her head. ‘I love Phil to death and think he’s the most gorgeous man alive. But just cos I’m married, Maggie, doesn’t mean I’m dead. I can appreciate a fine-looking specimen of manhood as much as the next woman. And that man has it in spades.’ Linda shook her head. ‘They’re gonna adore him over there. He’s going to break a stack of English hearts.’
Maggie swallowed. She knew it was the truth. But it hurt. God, how it hurt.
Maggie spent the entire shift trying to get Toby to smile. He looked at her solemnly, his ET tube protruding from his nose like a trunk, his arms wrapped in splints so he couldn’t pull it or any of his lines out.
He’d been shifted from the high-frequency ventilation back to conventional, which had been a huge step forward. His kidneys were winning the battle and he was having a trial period off the dialysis machine to see if his urine output kept up both in quantity and quality.
Maggie hoped so. Toby had been through a lot in the last weeks and really deserved a lucky break. Poor kid was utterly miserable. He cried any time anyone went near him. A mournful silent wail, his blue eyes filling with tears, his little face screwed up in abject misery.
Not that Maggie could blame him.
He’d been put through the wringer. Tubes and tests and suctioning and X-rays. Taking one step forward only to slide two steps back. Even his mother was persona non grata with the little boy.
Maggie looked up a few hours into the shift and saw her crying. She rounded the bed, put her arm around Alice’s shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze.
‘He looks at me like I’m the enemy,’ she murmured.
‘No,’ Maggie denied gently as the little boy eyed her like she was going to murder him. ‘He reserves that look for the nurses.’
‘Well, he looks at me with this expression that just says why? Why are you letting them do it to me?’
‘I know,’ Maggie murmured. ‘He’s young and he can’t possibly understand. He’s been through a lot, Alice. He’s been very sick but he’s clawing his way back. His humour will improve as he starts to feel better.’
Alice wiped her eyes. ‘I know,’ she said reaching out and squeezing Toby’s hand. ‘Thanks, Maggie. You have no idea how much we appreciate the support you guys give us. You’re angels, all of you.’
Maggie had never been comfortable with how people equated nurses with angels. Yes, she loved her job and she liked to think she went above and beyond. But she was human with human failings.
At no time was that more evident than right now as the ever-present nausea twisted through her gut.
Alice popped out a couple of hours later and Maggie sat with Toby as he cried great silent sobs and looked behind him, searching for his mother. She read to him for a bit and then tried to interest him a game of peek-a-boo.
‘Oh, dear, Toby’s not a happy camper.’
Maggie looked up as Nash approached the other side of Toby’s bed. ‘No. He’s not.
Nash reached for a disposable glove. ‘I think Toby needs a pet fish,’ he said.
Scrunching the opening together like the neck of a balloon, he blew into it. The glove, including the five fingers, inflated, looking like an udder. Toby stopped crying and watched the process warily.
Nash tied the end where he’d blown into and then inverted it. He took his pen out of his pocket and drew in some scales and two eyes. It now looked like some bizarre mutant fish with a pointy nose and giant spines. But at least it looked like a fish.
‘Ta-da,’ Nash announced. He watched the mistrust on Toby’s face. ‘Tough crowd,’ he remarked to Maggie.
Maggie smiled. She was touched that Nash, in that special way of his, was trying and had at least halted Toby’s heart-wrenching sobs. ‘I think your fish is lonely,’ she said, looking away from Nash towards Toby. ‘I think he needs a friend.’ And she reached for a glove.
‘Aha.’ Nash nodded. ‘A girlfriend.’
Maggie stopped mid-blow and glanced at Nash, but he was watching Toby so she hastily constructed her own fish.
‘Here, I’ll do the scales,’ Nash volunteered.
Maggie handed it over and waited while he drew kissy, fishy lips, eyes with long curly eyelashes and scales that looked like they belonged on a mermaid. He winked at her as he handed it back. ‘What do you think, Toby?’
Toby’s gaze shifted from one to the other as Nash and Maggie swam the fish through the air, making nonsense noises and silly fishy conversation in funny voices. Toby finally reached for a fish.
‘Progress.’ Nash smiled as he handed his creation over. Toby took it and almost - almost - smiled.
‘Ha! Did you see that?’ Maggie grinned at Nash. ‘He nearly smiled. I’m not giving up on you, young man.’ Maggie wagged her finger playfully at Toby, who frowned at her.
Nash grinned back. ‘We make a good team.’
Maggie’s smile faded a little. Where would he be when their child was fractious? What if he fell ill?
No, no, no. She wouldn’t go there. She could do this on her own. She could. She would not get maudlin on the back of such a sweet, if small, victory.
They watched Toby staring at the fish for a moment or two. He even wiggled it a little and they both gave him encouraging nods. Nash looked over at Maggie, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. She looked happy. Really happy that they’d been able to allay Toby’s misery for a while.
If ever there was a woman fit to be a mother, it was her.
He looked around him for a moment and then turned back to her. ‘You don’t mind about the ball, do you? About Linda asking me to join your table?’
Maggie shifted her attention to Nash. Being near him that night was going to be hell. ‘Of course not,’ she murmured, looking back at Toby. ‘I’m really good with our decision,’ she lied. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy a social night together. We’re adults, Nash. It’ll be fine.’
After all, she was going to have to get used to him being in her life. As hard as it was - they were inextricably joined.
She may as well start practising her pleasant indifference.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘One more sleep.’
Maggie rolled her eyes at Linda as she checked her six-o’clock antibiotics. She was glad that she wouldn’t have to hear the countdown again for another twelve months. ‘How old are you?’
‘Oh, come on, Scrooge,’ Linda teased. ‘You love it too.’
Yes. She usually did. But this was not going to be a normal hospital ball. She was pregnant. And the father of the baby was going to be at the same table.
In a tux.
‘They look good to me,’ Maggie said, deliberately changing the subject. She clicked on the medication chart and it opened on the monitor screen, allowing her to sign that she’d checked the drugs.
‘How’s Christopher going?’ she asked as she typed in her password. She was in charge of the afternoon shift and needed to keep up to date with the patients’ conditions.
‘We’re just waiting on his formal bloods. His kidney function is holding but his haemoglobin is falling. His last pulmonary haemorrhages didn’t help. We’re going to transfuse if it’s less than seventy.’
Maggie nodded and moved to the other side of the bed where Christopher’s mother sat, holding her heavily sedated son’s hand. The teenager was very pale. ‘How are you doing, Bree?’ she asked, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder.
‘Okay, I guess,’ she said, looking up at Maggie. ‘I still can’t believe it, though. I know we’ve been here for quite a few days now but I just can’t wrap my head around it.’