Falling for Her Wounded Hero

by Marion Lennox

  When Tom finally spoke his voice sounded as if it came from a long way away. ‘Tasha...’ He stopped, cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Tasha, are you pregnant?’

  ‘I... Yes.’ There was nothing else to say.

  He looked at the stick again, then set it aside to pick up the letter and re-read. ‘This means... Tasha, did you contact the IVF people to cancel before you knew you were pregnant?’

  ‘Yes.’ What did he think? That she’d deliberately used his sperm instead? The thought made her want to laugh but there was no way she could laugh. She was so close to hysterics.

  Unbidden, her hands went to her belly again. Tom noticed. She knew he’d noticed.

  He started stroking her hair again, as one would stroke a wounded wild creature, giving reassurance that help was at hand. Only help wasn’t at hand. She was flailing. ‘We were careful,’ he said, and she heard shock underneath the caring.

  She had to make herself talk.

  ‘One of my professors once said the only sure contraceptive is a brick wall,’ she managed. ‘Tom, I’m sorry.’

  Her voice was muffled. She had to straighten. She did but heaven only knew the effort it cost her. To sit up and face the world...

  To sit up and face Tom.

  ‘When did you find out?’ he asked, still in that strange, neutral voice.

  ‘I’ve been off colour for a couple of days. This morning...’ She bit her lip. ‘I woke up and knew. I just knew.’

  ‘So just today.’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘And it’s mine.’

  That was harder. She had to struggle to make her lips move. ‘Yes.’ She should say something else, she thought, but she couldn’t make herself think what.

  Would he be angry?

  He didn’t sound angry.

  Of all the sensations whirling around them right now, anger didn’t seem one of them.

  There was a long silence. It must have hit him like a sledgehammer, she thought, but the sledgehammer had been at work on her as well and she didn’t have a clue where to take this. But finally he spoke.

  ‘Tasha, could you bear to have it?’

  And there it was, out in the open.

  Could she have Tom’s baby?

  The thought was so immense it took her breath away. To carry a baby for nine months? To give birth to a little one who looked like Tom? To watch Tom fall in love with his child as she knew instinctively that he would?

  Family. The chasm was right before her but instead of running away she seemed to have stepped forward so one foot was in mid-air. Maybe both feet were.

  ‘Tasha, don’t look like that.’ He turned her face with his lovely strong hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. ‘Love, this little one’s safe. You know the odds of what happened to Emily are so small that they melt into insignificance. There’s nothing to say our baby won’t be perfect.’

  There it was. Our baby. She was trapped in her own terror. Her hands still clutched her belly.

  Tom’s hand closed over hers and held.

  ‘Tasha,’ he said, strongly, forcefully. ‘This will be okay. This will be good. We can do this.’

  We. There it was again.

  ‘Tasha, you can trust me.’

  At least he got it, she thought. At least he understood the chasm of faith that was required—faith that she was unable to give.

  But she couldn’t answer him. She tried but no words came out.

  ‘Cup of tea,’ he said, suddenly cheerful. He schecked out the stick’s red lines again, then tucked it into his pocket. ‘Yep, I’d call that a definite positive. We should keep this. It’s the first entry in our baby’s memento book. But meanwhile, tea with lots of sugar. I could handle a beer but just this once I’ll forgo it. Two mugs of tea coming up.’

  * * *

  Tasha stayed on the step, gazing at nothing. Tom headed into the kitchen, found the mugs among the kitsch and made two mugs of tea.

  And tried to come to terms with what he’d just learned.

  Tasha was having a baby.

  His baby.

  Their baby.

  The thought was almost overwhelming.

  He’d never imagined this. As long as he could remember, he’d thought of himself as a loner. Relationships couldn’t be trusted. He couldn’t be trusted. He’d never met a woman who he’d known he could commit to for the rest of his life and he’d assumed he never could.

  And then there was Tasha. For the first time he’d felt the beginnings of trust in himself. For the first time he’d thought that here was a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Betrayal was out of the question because this was Tasha. Hurting Tasha, betraying Tasha’s trust, would be like ripping out a part of himself.

  He suddenly found himself thinking of that tiny grave high on the headland. Of Emily. Of the way her tiny fingers had curled around his. Of the way her wide eyes had struggled to focus. Of the feel of her tiny body against his. Her newborn smell.

  He wanted it. He ached for it.

  He wanted a family.

  How far had he come since he’d met Tasha?

  And how to ease her pain now?

  He took the tea outside and she was still staring sightlessly down at Rhonda’s pot plants. He stared for them for a while, too. They were pretty boring.

  ‘Seen one geranium, seen ’em all,’ he ventured, and Tasha hiccupped on something that might have been a sob. He sat down and pressed her tea into her hands.

  ‘Drink.’

  ‘I don’t need—’

  ‘Doctor’s orders. Drink.’

  She did. Slowly. He drank his, too, and by the time they’d finished the sun had set and it was almost dark.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered at last.

  He took her empty mug and set it down on the veranda and tried to find a way in.

  ‘Do you want a termination?’ The words were a slash across the silence of the night and she drew in her breath with a shocked hiss.

  But she didn’t answer straight away. It’s on the table, he thought, and the sensation hurt.

  The silence stretched on. Finally her hands went back her belly, the movement a protective gesture as old as time itself.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘How can I? It’s real. A baby...’

  ‘Our baby,’ he said again into the night, feeling almost light-headed with relief. He’d never thought he wanted a child. Why was he suddenly desperate for this one? His hands rested against hers as he searched for the next thing to say. The right thing. ‘Tasha, whatever else is between us, this is non-negotiable. You’re not doing this as a single parent. I’m with you every step of the way. I know you don’t trust me. I know you don’t want a relationship between us and I accept that. But you will need support...’

  ‘So here it comes again,’ she managed, suddenly sounding dreary. ‘You support me during Emily’s loss. I support you after your injury. You support me while this one’s born... We’re taking turns.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be taking turns,’ he said softly. ‘We can support each other forever.’

  ‘Tom...’

  ‘I know—you can’t,’ he said. ‘So we’ll do what we need to do to care for this little one with all the love we can muster.’

  ‘I don’t want to stay here.’ It was a wail and he gave a rueful smile.

  ‘There’s no need for you to stay.’

  ‘But it’s your baby.’

  ‘And if I need to, I’ll leave Cray Point.’

  She turned and stared at him in stupefaction. ‘You’d leave...’

  ‘I’ve hardly thought this through,’ he said ruefully. ‘But my initial feeling... Tasha, if you need to return to England, then maybe I can, too. Don’t worry. I won’t
turn into some weird stalker. We can still live separate lives but I’ll not ask you to parent on your own. I can get work wherever.’

  ‘But you love it here.’

  ‘I love you.’

  The words seemed to take all the air from her lungs. She was flailing. ‘Tom...’

  ‘I never thought I’d say those words but it’s true,’ he continued. ‘You don’t want it and I accept that, but, Tasha, I will love our baby. I’ll be there whenever you need me and whenever he or she...’ He frowned. ‘Who is this, by the way.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she snapped, torn between tears and laughter. ‘The pregnancy test doesn’t come with blue for boy, pink for girl. It’s currently the size of a tadpole.’

  He grinned, that gorgeous smile that had her heart twisting. ‘I wasn’t talking about our baby’s gender. I was talking of names. Hey, my grandma used to call tadpoles pollywiggles. How’s that for a name? Yes? Okay, I’ll be there whenever Pollywig needs me. Birth? If you want me there, check. Teething? I sing a cool lullaby as long as she’s into Pink Floyd. First day at school? I’ll probably cry.’

  ‘Tom!’ She was practically crying herself. ‘You can’t put your life on hold...’

  ‘See, that’s what I hadn’t figured,’ he said gravely, and his hands tightened on hers. ‘But finally I have it sorted. Life isn’t Cray Point. Life is family.’

  ‘Tom, I can’t...’ It was practically a wail.

  ‘You don’t need to do anything,’ he told her. ‘You definitely don’t need to commit to me. All I ask is that you accept you have family. I’m your ex-half-brother-in-law who’s now the father of your baby. That seems pretty much family to me.’ And before she knew what he was about he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. It was a feather kiss, a fleeting touch, a gesture of reassurance and warmth. Surely nothing more.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t need anything for nausea?’ he asked. ‘I’m starting to not believe your sausage story.’

  ‘It was a fib,’ she confessed.

  ‘So...morning sickness?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘Tasha, you will ask for help?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I will ask for help.’

  ‘And you’ll stay for the next two weeks at least.’

  ‘I will do that.’ Because what option did she have?

  But suddenly she thought, The terror has faded. The overwhelming, paralysing fear when she’d seen those two lines had dissipated.

  ‘Pollywig...’ she said tentatively, and he smiled and touched her hair.

  ‘It’s a fine name, but we can discuss options if you like.’

  ‘I like Pollywig.’

  ‘So do I.’ He rose and smiled down at her. ‘And I like Pollywig’s mum. But Pollywig’s mum needs to head to bed and get her head around the new norm. And me... I’m heading out behind the wheel of my little car to celebrate the fact that I can drive again. And I’m going to be a dad. It’s been quite a day.’

  ‘It has. Tom...’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said grandly. ‘And don’t you dare go to bed and tremble. Together we can cope with one cute Pollywig. Together we can do anything.’

  And he leant forward again and his lips brushed her forehead.

  And then he was gone and the night was darker for his going.

  * * *

  Who could sleep?

  She lay in bed and stared up at the darkness and called herself all kinds of coward.

  Tom loved her. She knew it. She could see it in the way he looked at her. She could feel it in the way he touched her. She just...knew it.

  It would be so easy to walk into his arms and let the future take over.

  Become Mrs Blake again? Pregnant.

  Rhonda and Hilda had left strict instructions as to the temperature the cats needed for comfort. The house was constantly overheated, but right now she was cold.

  Why was she shaking? It wasn’t as if she was frightened of Tom, and surely logic would decree that this pregnancy should be fine. The odds were on her side.

  She was pregnant with Tom’s baby. She suddenly felt a burst of warmth amid the fear.

  This baby would be Tom’s. He wanted to be its father.

  Pollywig.

  ‘It’s a lousy name for a baby,’ she said out loud, and she almost found the courage to smile.

  Tom had said he’d move from Cray Point to be a father. She couldn’t make him do that.

  So live here? He’d suggested a medical partnership.

  But part of her shut down at the thought. Working with Tom every day... She couldn’t.

  Why? she asked herself, but the same part refused to answer.

  Because she loved Tom? Because she couldn’t bear to see him every day?

  Because she was a coward?

  None of those things, she told herself savagely. It was just that there was an attraction between them that couldn’t be denied, and she was being sensible. She wanted no part of it so she needed to leave.

  But she couldn’t go back to England. It wouldn’t be fair to Tom.

  Or to her?

  For home felt like here.

  ‘It does not.’ She said it out loud and one of the cats wandering past her bedroom door leaped in fright and bolted for the company of his mates. ‘I don’t have a home.’

  ‘You’ll need to make one. So think about sensible.’

  Sensible was what she needed. She needed to make plans, get herself under control again, stop the crazy vortex in her head once and for all.

  ‘Summer Bay.’ There was a sensible thought. Summer Bay, where Tom had gone to rehab, was a town big enough for a large medical centre with half a dozen doctors. She could get a job, relieving at first, and then as Pollywig grew maybe full-time work.

  She had money from Paul’s life insurance. She could buy a wee house.

  Maybe a puppy...

  Tom could visit. The towns were only half an hour apart. It was a sensible distance, where Tom could be as involved as he wanted with Pollywig but their lives could be as separate as they needed to be.

  ‘I wouldn’t even have to know who he was dating.’ She said that out loud, too. It should have sounded sensible. It should have sounded reassuring but instead it came out a bit...petty?

  All of a sudden she felt silly and just a little bit small. To not have the courage to trust...

  ‘I can’t help it,’ she told the night, and the night just had to listen. ‘I’m not built to trust again.’

  ‘You’re a coward.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m a pregnant coward and I need to look after me for my baby’s sake.’

  ‘That’s an excuse and you know it.’

  ‘Okay, I’m afraid,’ she said out loud. ‘I’m a great blob of yellow custard, quivering at the edges, and there’s not a thing I can do about it. So go to sleep.’

  She closed her eyes but sleep wouldn’t come. The quivering wasn’t helping.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RHONDA RETURNED THE next day. Hilda was arriving later, with their father. ‘There’s been a hitch in his visa arrangements but he should be here in two weeks,’ Rhonda told Tasha, and Tasha thought that was excellent. That’d give her two weeks to finalise things here and find somewhere to live in Summer Bay.

  ‘How’s Tom?’ Rhonda asked, and Tasha thought of all the things she could say—but didn’t.

  ‘His recovery’s remarkable,’ she said instead. ‘He still has left-sided weakness but it’s fading almost to unnoticeable. Another month and he should be back to normal.’

  ‘But you’re only staying for two more weeks?’ Rhonda looked at her sharply. ‘And you’ve moved in here. Conflic
t? Tom’s women?’

  ‘He’s not dating at the moment but that’s part of it,’ she agreed. ‘I didn’t want to get in the way of his lifestyle.’

  ‘You do know he doesn’t enjoy his lifestyle very much,’ Rhonda told her. Rhonda’s luggage was still in the hall and the cats were tangling themselves round her legs in ecstasy, but she was homing right in on Tom as if she’d been worrying the entire time she’d been away. She probably had.

  ‘There are lots of good women in Cray Point,’ Rhonda told her. ‘Our Dr Tom is quite a catch. He’s always been a looker, and he’s lovely. Clever and skilled and kind. But even when he was a teen he dated girls who were older, more experienced, less likely to be clingy. His mother used to worry. Why didn’t he find himself a nice girl who wanted to settle down and have babies? We could see it, though. His mother was a watering pot. She never disguised the fact that Tom’s father broke her heart, and she never let Tom forget the fact that he looked just like his father.

  ‘“Don’t you ever do that to a girl,” she’d say over and over, and she’d say it to everyone. “I do hope he doesn’t turn out like his dad.” She was a beautiful ninnyhammer, our Marjorie, and I reckon it’s affected Tom all his life. If you say something to a child often enough, he’ll believe it. At least no one’s saying it to him now but it’s probably too late. How can we get our Dr Tom to commit?’

  She already had, Tasha thought bleakly. He had committed.

  But she’d done just what his mother had done.

  She’d accused him of being like his father. And his brother.

  Worse, she’d believed it. A part of her still did believe it and she wasn’t brave enough to walk away from that belief.

  * * *

  For the next few days things seemed to slow down. Life felt in slow motion. It was a strange sensation but that was how she felt. She had slight morning sickness but not much. She kept waiting for the signs of miscarriage but none came. She kept feeling the pregnancy was some sort of dream, but a week later, when she went to see the charge doctor of the Summer Bay medical group about a job, she confessed that her work would be part-time. And because Adam Myers’ specialty was obstetrics, she confessed why and ended up having a full examination.

  ‘Lovely and normal,’ Adam told her, and when she told him what she was most afraid of, he pulled the stats up on the internet and told her what the chances were of it happening again.