The Baby Swap Miracle

by Caroline Anderson

  She met his eyes, studying him in silence for a moment, then she reached out her hand and took the book.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured politely, and then turning her back on him, she settled into the corner of the sofa and opened the book.

  He was dismissed.

  Sam retreated to his study and his conference call, leaving Emelia to browse through the old garden plans. He was sure from the look on her face when he’d glanced back at her that she’d be occupied for hours.

  Which suited him just fine, because spending time with her was harder than he could possibly have imagined.

  It wasn’t just that he found her insanely, ridiculously attractive, he thought as the call ended and he realised he’d hardly registered a word. It was the insane, ridiculously attractive idea of spending much more time with her—maybe even pottering out there with her in the rose garden while their child puggled about making little mud pies, and in the corner, under the shade of a tree, would be a pram—

  ‘No!’

  He slammed on the brakes and closed his eyes, ramming his fingers into his eye sockets and trying to blot out the image. Crazy! He wasn’t letting his imagination run away with him. He’d done that before, and it had turned to dust before his eyes. He wasn’t doing it again. This was his house, his dream, and he wasn’t sharing it with anyone. That way, he couldn’t lose it.

  He’d have her close, but not that close. He couldn’t afford to let her that close. It would be too easy to fall into the honey trap.

  A cold, wet nose nuzzled his wrist, and he lifted his hand and fondled Daisy’s ears gently. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart, I didn’t mean you,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just going slightly mad here.’

  She gave a low wuff and ran to the French doors, her eyes pleading, and he gave up the unequal struggle. Emelia would be busy with the book, curled up in the sitting room where he’d left her, so he and the dog could go out in the rest of the garden and stretch their legs and play a game without fear of interruption.

  He went through to the kitchen and grabbed her ball on a rope, and opened the back door. Maybe after an hour or so of brisk walking with the odd ball game chucked in for good measure, he’d be back in control of his mind—

  Or not. Emelia was standing on the path by the knot garden, staring at the scruffy little hedges with a frown furrowing her brow, and he wanted to press his thumbs against it and wipe away the frown, to touch his lips to the tiny creases and soothe them. And then he’d tilt her head and kiss her—

  ‘We’re just going for a walk,’ he said, as Daisy ran up to her and licked her hand.

  She met his eyes warily. ‘Can I come?’

  He stared at her, wondering how to tell her, politely, that he was trying to get away from her before he went mad. He couldn’t.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, and her mouth tipped in a smile that sent his guts into free-fall.

  He walked like a man possessed!

  They’d hardly gone ten steps before she realised what she’d let herself in for, but she kept up without a murmur, and then he stopped her, finger to his lips, as the deer had come out of the woods, and they stood motionless and watched until something spooked them and they melted into the trees like shadows.

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ she murmured, and he gave a wry grin.

  ‘They’re immensely destructive, and they make a heck of a racket at night, especially in the autumn with the rutting season. Everyone thinks the countryside’s quiet, but between the deer, the foxes, the badgers and the owls it can all get a bit much. Then the birds start at four o’clock, not to mention the cockerel, and once I’m awake I tend not to go back to sleep, so I’ll apologise in advance if I disturb you at five in the morning in the shower. I just get up when I wake up and get on with the day.’

  She wondered what on earth he found to do at five in the morning, but maybe that was when he kept tabs on his business. Whatever, it sounded horribly early.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I think it must be the hormones but I can sleep through anything at the moment,’ she told him, and then in the second before he looked away, she caught a flash of something in his eyes.

  Something she’d seen before. Something he didn’t like and was trying to deny.

  Desire?

  No way. She was pregnant, for heaven’s sake! Why on earth would he be interested in a pregnant woman?

  He wouldn’t, she told herself firmly, and followed him, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other until they were back at the house, and then she retreated to the sitting room and curled up on a sofa with Daisy and the garden plans and waited for her legs to stop aching.

  She was sitting there now, her hand idly stroking the dog, when Sam came in.

  ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ll make it,’ she said, starting to get up, but he just frowned.

  ‘No, you won’t. I must have nearly walked you off your feet—you look shattered. You should have said something.’

  And he walked out again before she could answer, coming back moments later with a tray laden with tea and biscuits—more cookies, only chocolate this time. She was going to be like a house.

  He sat down, picked up his tea and stared at it for a moment. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask about your things,’ he said abruptly, without any preamble. ‘Do you want to get them sent here, or do you want to go back and collect them?’

  She chewed her lip thoughtfully, and Sam saw a flicker of uncertainty on her face. ‘I ought to do it myself—if you’re sure it’s all right? I could put them in store but there isn’t much, really, other than my clothes. I just feel I ought to get them out sooner rather than later.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ His mouth firmed. Damn them for putting her through this! ‘Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t and heaven knows the house is big enough, whatever you’ve got. I’ll come with you. I’ve got an estate car, it’ll be easier, and we can always take the trailer,’ he added, before he could think better of it, and the relief on her face was almost comical.

  ‘Sam, would you? We won’t need the trailer, everything’ll fit easily in a biggish car, and I’ll tell them you’re a friend. It might be a bit much if they realise you’re the baby’s father.’

  It hadn’t even occurred to him to worry about them, but of course Emelia was worrying. She was the sort of woman who’d worry about everyone, no matter how unkind they’d been to her. She’d be a great teacher, kindly but firmly sorting out the bullies. He could picture her with children clustered around her, snuggled up and hanging on her every word.

  He could quite easily do that…

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said hastily. ‘Any time will do. Just arrange it.’

  ‘OK. Have you told Emily and Andrew yet? About the baby?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. They’re flying back tomorrow. I might have to do it after they’re home. In fact it’d probably be better. Do you want another cookie?’

  She gave him a good-natured, indulgent smile. ‘No, but you go ahead. You’ve got a way to go before you look as fat as me.’

  ‘You don’t look fat, you look—’

  He broke off. He’d been going to say gorgeous, but it was inappropriate and dangerous and would get him into all sorts of hot water. And he wasn’t going there.

  ‘Pregnant. Yes, I know. It takes a bit of getting used to…’ She trailed off, her hand on the baby, and that tiny frown was back.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ A slow smile dawned on her face, and she looked up and met his eyes, her tender expression bringing a lump to his throat.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said softly. ‘It’s starting to get really active, and it—it just stops me in my tracks sometimes.’ She coloured slightly, and then held out a hand to him. ‘Do you want to feel it?’

  Did he? He’d been desperate to at first, but now he wasn’t sure. There was a part of him that was longing to lay his hand over his child, but another part that was afraid of such intimate contact with
Emelia, because he knew it would complicate things even further. But he got up, on legs that felt suddenly rubbery and uncooperative, and sat down beside her. She took his hand and pressed it to the smooth little curve, and he felt something move under his palm. Almost a fluttering, barely discernible and yet unmistakeable.

  His baby. His baby, growing inside her, and there was something shockingly intimate about it, shockingly right.

  He let his breath out on a huff of amazement and met her eyes, and something happened then, some incredible sense of connection, of belonging, and he leant in closer, drawing her wordlessly against him and pressing his lips to her hair.

  The baby shifted again, and he chuckled softly, amazed at the sensation. ‘That must be so weird,’ he murmured a little gruffly.

  ‘It is. It’s really strange at first, but wonderful.’

  ‘It’s incredible. So strong for something so tiny.’

  His fingers were splayed over her bump, his thumb almost grazing the underside of her breast, his fingers perilously close to forbidden territory. He shifted his hand again, and she nearly whimpered. It would be so easy to pretend this was real, to fall into the cosy little trap and let him take over, let him look after her as he was obviously wanting to do.

  And maybe—she’d seen the way he looked at her from time to time. She’d thought it was because of the baby, but thinking about it, he’d looked at her like that before, when they’d met on other occasions at the clinic. So maybe she hadn’t misread it at all. Maybe he did want her, for herself and not just for the child. Could she trust it? Could it really be so simple?

  Probably not. He’d already told her he was more cautious now, and she was about to pull back when he lifted his hand and eased away, saving her the trouble.

  ‘It seems to have gone back to sleep,’ he said, his voice scratchy and strange, and he retreated before he did something really, really stupid like kiss her.

  Because he’d been this close…

  ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ she said softly, her eyes slightly unfocused. ‘It feels so real now! It’s sort of been a bit theoretical, you know? A bit—I don’t know, almost as if it was happening to somebody else, but now—now it really feels like mine.’

  Her eyes filled with tears, and he closed his own, her face too painful to watch.

  She was thinking of James. He was sure she was, thinking of the man who should have been here with her, feeling the baby move, sharing the moment. Not a random stranger linked to her forever by an inadvertent error which had cost her more than anyone could ever know.

  There was no amount of compensation that could make up for what she’d lost, and nothing he could do to make up for the fact that the baby would be his and not James’. But he could make her life easier, and he could care for her, and he would love his child—because it was his, too, as much as hers—to the end of his days.

  But not Emelia. She was off limits, and she was staying that way. He’d given up dreaming.

  ‘I’m going to do some paperwork,’ he said brusquely, and getting to his feet, he walked out, leaving Daisy torn between her new friend who was sitting by a plateful of biscuits, or the man who’d fed her and walked her and played with her since she was tiny. No contest.

  She stayed with the biscuits, and he went alone.

  Alone, the way he wanted it, the way he liked it.

  It was safer that way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THEY went the next morning to collect her things, in the big four-wheel-drive estate car he’d bought when he’d moved to the house. It had been used for any number of things, but this was one he’d never anticipated—collecting the possessions of a woman who was carrying his child.

  He glanced across at her, and she gave him a fleeting smile. She looked tense, a little uneasy. Not hard to work out why.

  It was about thirty-five miles to her in-laws’, and as the miles rolled by, she became more tense and withdrawn. And he was concerned. He could see how much she was dreading it, but she’d insisted on doing it herself. He wondered now if she’d changed her mind.

  ‘Are you OK with this?’ he asked quietly, as he pulled up in the street close to the house she indicated.

  ‘I have to be. I’ll just say as little as possible, because if I open my mouth, I’m afraid I may not shut it.’

  He hesitated for a second, then reached out and squeezed her hand. Just briefly, but she turned her head and met his eyes, and he felt as if she’d shown him the deepest, most intimate recesses of her soul. And it robbed his breath.

  ‘Emelia—stay here,’ he urged, shocked at the pain and anger and betrayal he’d seen there. ‘Let me get the stuff. You can go for a walk or something. Just tell me where it is, so I know what I’m looking for, and I’ll deal with them.’

  She looked away, so, so tempted by his offer, but knowing she had to do this herself. ‘I never have to see them again,’ she said. ‘I can manage.’

  Although she wasn’t sure she could. And the first step was to let go of Sam’s warm, strong hand which she seemed to be holding again, so he could turn into the drive.

  She freed her fingers and unclipped her seat belt, then got out and walked towards the front door. They were expecting her, but it was still a few moments before Brian opened the door, and she was grateful for Sam’s strong, silent presence behind her when he did.

  ‘Julia’s out,’ he said, looking uncomfortable. ‘She couldn’t face seeing you.’

  ‘And you could?’ she said softly, knowing he’d been complicit, even if it hadn’t been his idea, but then she cut herself off with a little shake of her head. ‘Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve just come to collect my things, and then I’ll go. This is Sam, by the way. He’s a friend of a friend. He’s got an estate car and he said he’d give me a hand.’

  It was all true, but not the blatant, most glaring truth which she was reluctant to reveal. Brian swallowed it, anyway, and offered his help, but Sam refused.

  ‘That’s all right, I’m sure we can manage.’

  ‘Don’t let her lift anything.’

  She caught the icy look Sam gave her father-in-law, saw him pale and step back. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he muttered, and went off in the direction of the kitchen. Relieved, Emelia led Sam through to the annexe bedroom and looked around. Nothing had been touched—except the diary. It was missing. And his watch and pen, but not his wedding ring, she realised.

  It was as if Julia had wanted to cut Emelia out of their lives by choosing to ignore their son’s marriage, and in a moment of defiance, she picked up the ring and slipped it into her pocket. It was hers, after all. She’d bought it, she’d given it to him. And she had no intention of forgetting the man she’d loved with all her heart.

  She opened the wardrobe, and Sam watched her thoughtfully as she studied the contents. He’d seen her hesitate, seen her pick up the ring and lift her chin defiantly as she’d put it in her pocket.

  And he’d seen the pain in her eyes as she’d turned.

  ‘OK, is this it?’ he asked, breaking the endless silence, and she nodded.

  ‘Yes. Everything at this end. There’s a side door we can use to take it out.’

  ‘OK. You go and sit in the car, I’ll do this.’

  ‘No, I’m OK,’ she said, but she sat down, anyway, on the bed, her fingers absently pleating the cover as he carried the bags and boxes and hangers of clothes out to the car. The packing was a bit haphazard, to say the least, but it didn’t take long to load. It probably would have fitted in her car, at a pinch, he thought. There was something incredibly sad about that small pile of her possessions, and he stood back and looked at it and wondered how after a lengthy relationship she had so little to show for it.

  Shaking his head slowly, he went back into the house and found her sitting where he’d left her. ‘All done.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, but she didn’t move, just looked around, her eyes empty.

  ‘I’ll be in the car,’ he said, givin
g her space to make her farewells, and she nodded.

  ‘I should say goodbye.’

  She locked the door after him, and walked slowly back to the kitchen. Brian was sitting at the table waiting, his face drawn.

  ‘Got everything?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  Then, despite her best intentions, found herself unable to ignore the elephant in the room.

  ‘She had no right to do that, either to me or to him, and neither did you,’ she said softly. ‘You’ve put me through hell, Brian. It was bad enough losing James. To know you and Julia deceived us both like that—it’s beyond immoral. You should be ashamed.’

  He ducked his head. ‘I am. We are. But we thought, a child—’

  ‘You thought a child would replace your son, which shows how little you really knew him, because you could never replace him. He was unique. We’re all unique. You should have respected that and concentrated on loving him instead of scheming to keep a bit of him alive for your own selfish ends.’

  She turned, to find that Julia had come in and was standing behind her, ashen-faced and trembling. ‘Emelia, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly,’ she said brokenly. ‘Please forgive me.’

  Emelia hesitated. It would be so easy to walk away and leave it like this, but Julia was right, they’d been out of their minds with grief and under those circumstances judgement could become skewed.

  ‘I’ll try,’ she promised, too hurt for anything but honesty. ‘You may have more trouble forgiving yourself.’

  Julia nodded, sniffing to hold back the tears. ‘I left his ring for you,’ she said then. ‘I thought—you might have left it by mistake.’

  She could feel it in her pocket, pressing into her thigh, and she slid her hand in and pulled it out and handed it to Julia.

  ‘You keep it. I don’t need it now,’ she said gently, and squeezed her hand. It tightened convulsively for a moment, then let her go.