Their Meant-to-Be Baby

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘But you have me. I’ll help you. You won’t be alone, Kate. And you can do this, if you decide you want to. You’ll be all right.’

  And if she didn’t want to?

  If Sam really was the locum, she’d have to tell him, and then he’d have an opinion, want a say. He might want her to go through with the pregnancy even if she decided that she couldn’t. And if the locum wasn’t Sam, she’d deleted all trace of him from her phone, so she wouldn’t be able to tell him, however much she might decide she wanted to.

  Which meant if she kept it she would be all on her own to deal with it, bar a little help from Annie.

  But that was fine. She’d been on her own most of her life, and she liked it like that. She’d had enough of being bullied and manipulated and lied to.

  Not that Sam would necessarily do any of those things, but she wasn’t inclined to give him the chance.

  Even assuming Sam was the locum.

  * * *

  He was.

  She knew that the moment she walked into the department two days later, at seven on Monday morning. She heard his laugh over the background noise, heard James saying something and then another laugh, and it drew closer as she turned the corner.

  She ground to a halt, too late to turn and walk away, too shocked to keep on moving past because she hadn’t really believed it would be him. And then he saw her and his eyes widened in surprise.

  She searched his face, fell in love with it all over again and then remembered all the reasons she had to regret that she’d ever met him. One in particular...

  ‘Ah, Kate. Let me introduce you to Sam Ryder, our locum consultant. Sam, this is Kate Ashton, one of our best senior nurses.’

  ‘Hello, Kate,’ Sam said softly, but speech had deserted her and the ground refused to swallow her up. ‘Do you two know each other?’ James asked after an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘No!’

  They spoke in unison, and James did a mild double-take and looked from her to Sam and back again. ‘Well, which is it?’

  Sam just stood there, and after a second she found her voice. ‘We’ve met,’ she qualified. ‘Just once.’

  Just long enough to make a baby...

  A muscled clenched in his jaw, but otherwise Sam’s face didn’t move. No smile, no frown—nothing. Just those accusing eyes.

  She felt sick. Nothing unusual. She was getting so used to it, it was the new normal.

  The silence hung in the air between them, broken only by the sound of a pager bleeping. James pulled it out of his pocket and scanned the message.

  ‘Sorry, I need to go. Sam, why don’t I put you in Kate’s hands for now and let her show you round? She’s worked a lot with Annie so she’s the expert on her role, really. I’ll see you later. Come and find me when you’re done with HR.’

  James clapped him on the shoulder and walked off, and Sam’s eyes tracked him down the corridor and then switched back to Kate. She’d forgotten how piercing they could be.

  ‘You didn’t tell me you were a nurse.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you were a doctor.’

  ‘At least I didn’t lie.’

  She felt colour tease her cheeks. ‘Only by omission. That’s no better.’

  ‘There are degrees. And I didn’t deny that I know you.’

  ‘I didn’t think our...’

  ‘Fling? Liaison? One-night stand? Random—’

  ‘Our private life was any of his business. And anyway, you don’t know me. Only in the biblical sense.’

  Something flickered in those flat, ice-blue eyes, something wild and untamed and a little scary. And then he looked away.

  ‘Apparently so.’

  She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders. At some point she’d have to tell him she was pregnant, but not here, not now, not like this, and if they were going to have this baby, at some point they would need to get to know each other. But, again, not now. Now she had a job to do, and she was going to have to put her feelings on the back burner and resist the urge to run away.

  She pulled herself together with effort and straightened her shoulders. ‘So, shall we get on with your guided tour? What have you seen?’

  ‘His office. Nothing else, really.’

  ‘Right. Let’s start at Reception and work through the route the patients take, and then you can go up to HR. I’ll give you a map of the hospital.’

  And with any luck her legs wouldn’t give way and dump her on the floor before they were done...

  * * *

  ‘We need to talk.’

  There was a lull in the chaos that had been the day so far, and they were alone at the desk, filling in paperwork on the last case. He paused, his pen hovering over the notes.

  ‘We do?’

  He was still stinging a little from her rejection back in January, not to mention her denial to James that she knew him, and he’d spent the whole morning so far trying to quell his traitorous body, which seemed to be delighted at her sudden reappearance in his life. In fact she’d been at least half of the reason he’d taken this locum job, on the off-chance that he might run into her again, but now he had it seemed like a profoundly lousy idea, especially since they were going to be working together.

  He made himself look at her, forced himself to meet her eyes instead of avoiding them as he had been.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought we had anything to say.’

  She flinched a little, but held her ground.

  ‘There’s a lot to say.’

  ‘Like why you didn’t answer my text?’

  He saw her throat bob as she swallowed. ‘I didn’t get it—not until much later.’

  ‘That’s a lie. I saw it on your phone when I sent it so I know it arrived.’

  ‘But I didn’t see it on my phone. I didn’t have time to check until I got home—I was called in to work that morning.’

  ‘Sure you were.’

  ‘Why do you have to think the worst of me? I’m not lying, and it’s on record.’ She bit her lip, but her eyes looked troubled, and she gave a frustrated little sigh. ‘Look, Sam, I don’t want to do this here. Can we meet up later? Please?’

  He propped himself against the desk, hands rammed in the pockets of his scrubs so he didn’t reach out to her, and studied her, trying and failing to read her expression. ‘OK,’ he conceded finally, massively against his better judgement—although where Kate was concerned he didn’t seem to have any judgement. ‘What time do you finish?’

  ‘Three. You?’

  ‘Technically five, but maybe later. We could go to a pub, I suppose,’ he offered grudgingly, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, not a pub. Where are you staying?’

  ‘With James and Connie, but there’s no way you’re going there.’

  She frowned. ‘No, definitely not.’

  ‘Where, then?’

  She bit her lip again and he felt almost sorry for it. ‘My flat?’ she offered, sounding as reluctant as him. ‘You could come round when you finish. Six o’clock-ish?’

  He nodded, relieved that they were going somewhere private. ‘OK. Give me the address. Oh, and you’d better give me your phone number again in case I’m held up.’

  She nodded, and he couldn’t help noticing that she looked wary. Almost—hunted?

  ‘Kate, I get that it was a one-night stand,’ he muttered, relenting a little. ‘I’m cool with that, and I didn’t want any more. I don’t,’ he added, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie. ‘But you could have answered my text.’

  ‘And said what? Thanks for a great night, sorry I missed the chance to say goodbye when you sneaked out of the hotel room?’

  ‘I hardly sneaked—’

  ‘You could have woken
me up. You could have just asked me—’ She broke off and gave another impatient little sigh and pulled the phone out of her pocket. ‘Tell me your number.’

  She keyed it in, and his phone vibrated in his pocket. ‘OK, I’ve got it,’ he said, and put it into his contacts. ‘I’ll call you when I finish, give you a head’s up.’

  ‘I’ll text you my address. It’s the top-floor flat. Number three.’

  She hesitated a moment, then turned away, leaving him puzzled and a tiny bit intrigued.

  She probably wanted to set the ground rules for their relationship, he decided.

  Well, that was easy. Hands off. He could do that.

  He went back to work.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE STOOD AT the bedroom window and watched a car pull up outside the house right on the dot of six, and she ran downstairs and opened the front door.

  ‘You found me OK, then?’ she said, stating the obvious, but he just gave her a quizzical smile.

  ‘It’s hardly rocket science. I’ve got a satnav.’

  Of course he had. Her stomach in knots, she turned away without another word and led him up the narrow, winding staircase that rose to the top floor of the big Victorian townhouse. Once upon a time it had been elegant. Now it had a run-down feel to it, as if it had been a long time since anyone had truly loved it, and she wondered what Sam with his privileged upbringing would think of it. Not that it mattered.

  She’d left the door at the top standing open, and he followed her in, past the cramped kitchen into the sitting room that seemed suddenly much smaller with him in it. It was shabby without the chic, but thanks to the last two hours of frantic activity it was at least clean and tidy, apart from the shelves in the alcoves, which were overflowing with books.

  ‘Drink?’ she asked, stalling for time, and he nodded.

  ‘Yeah, thanks—I could murder a coffee.’

  No chance. She waved at the sofa. ‘Make yourself at home. The kettle’s hot, I won’t be a moment.’

  She closed the kitchen door, sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady herself, to slow the heart that was lodged in her throat.

  ‘You can do this,’ she whispered, but she didn’t know how, didn’t know if she would ever be ready to say the words that would change their lives for ever.

  * * *

  He looked around, trying to get a handle on her character, but there was nothing to give her away.

  No ornaments or photos, the tired furniture showing evidence of a long, hard life, but at least it was clean.

  He studied the books, but all they proved was that she had eclectic taste.

  Biographies, travel guides, romance, crime, historical sagas, a collection of cookery books—and a small children’s book, dog-eared and tatty but presumably much loved.

  What did she want to talk about?

  He heard her come back in and turned, searching her face and finding no clues. She set the tray down and handed him a mug.

  He glanced at it, then sniffed it experimentally. ‘Is this tea?’

  ‘Sorry, I ran out of coffee. Anyway, you’ve been drinking it all day and tea’s better for you.’

  That made him blink. ‘Are you trying to mother me?’ he asked, mildly astonished because she hadn’t seemed like the sort of woman who’d hold back on anything if she wanted it, far less advise anyone else to, but he must have hit a sore spot because she sucked in her breath and looked away.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do that?’

  ‘Search me. Kate, what did you want to talk about?’

  She met his eyes, looked away briefly and seemed to brace herself before she spoke again.

  ‘OK. I do have coffee, but I can’t cope with the smell of it at the moment.’ Her eyes locked with his, defiant and yet fearful, and her next words took the wind right out of his sails.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  * * *

  There. She’d said it.

  And from the look on his face, it was the last thing Sam had been expecting to hear.

  He turned away, put the mug down on the mantelpiece and gripped the shelf so hard his knuckles turned white.

  ‘How?’

  His voice was harsh, brittle, as if he was holding himself together by sheer willpower. She could understand that. She’d been doing it ever since she’d found out, and she felt as if she hadn’t breathed properly for days.

  ‘We ran out of condoms, remember? That last time.’ The time she’d assured him it was safe. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her.

  She saw him frown in the mirror. ‘But you told me it was OK. You said you were on the Pill—or is that another lie?’

  ‘No! I am on it—or I was. But I went down with norovirus right after work and I couldn’t even keep water down for days.’

  ‘You’re sure? You’re not just...’

  ‘I’m quite sure. And trust me, I’m no more thrilled about it than you are.’

  ‘You know nothing about me or my feelings,’ he growled, lifting his head and meeting her eyes in the mirror. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I know you don’t mind breaking rules so long as you don’t get caught.’

  He held her eyes for a moment, then looked away. ‘Not that one. I never, ever break that one. I’m fanatical about contraception.’

  ‘Apparently not fanatical enough.’

  She sighed and reached out a hand to him, then dropped it in defeat. ‘Sam, we can’t fight. This isn’t going to go away just because we don’t like it.’

  He rammed a hand through his hair and turned to face her. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s mine?’

  She felt her skin blanch. ‘Of course I’m sure—’

  ‘Really? Because you fell into bed with me readily enough and you were already apparently on the Pill.’

  ‘Which makes me just as much of a slut as you. If I remember rightly, you had condoms in your wallet just in case.’

  He winced, and she nodded. ‘There. Not nice, is it? But it’s the truth. Neither of us knew anything about the other, and everything we thought we knew was lies. But we’ve made a baby, Sam,’ she said, her voice starting to crack. ‘I’m eleven weeks pregnant and we have to make a decision—’

  His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him, and she saw him swallow. ‘You want to get rid of it?’

  She blanched, the words were so blunt, but her feelings were so confused, so chaotic she couldn’t analyse them. ‘No—I don’t know. All I really want is for this never to have happened, and believe me, if I could wind the clock back it never would, but it has, and...’

  ‘So why didn’t you contact me? Why leave it to now to make a decision? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I didn’t know! I only found out two days ago.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. You must have noticed your cycle—’

  ‘I don’t have a cycle. I take it continuously, and I did a pregnancy test after the bug, which was negative—and anyway, I didn’t have your details. I’d deleted them from my phone and I had no way of contacting you. I didn’t know who you were. All I knew was your first name.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because you didn’t look surprised to see me this morning, which makes me think you knew who I was all along.’

  ‘I didn’t! I didn’t have an inkling until a few days ago when James said something about you working as our locum might mean you got the boat off their drive, and I started to wonder then, but he didn’t mention your name and I didn’t know for sure until I saw you. How was I supposed to know? You hadn’t told me you were a doctor. You hardly told me anything...’

  She tailed off, finally running out of words, of breath, of any hope of an easy resolution, and just like that her emotions imploded. She felt her eyes prickle, felt the sob lodge in her chest as the
fear and loneliness and desolation of her childhood rose up to swamp her.

  ‘I can’t do this, Sam,’ she said, pressing her eyelids together to stem the tears but instead squeezing them out so that they trickled down her cheeks, laying her soul bare. ‘I can’t do it. I don’t know how. I just want it all to go away...’

  * * *

  How could he not have seen this coming?

  It was so obvious now, but it hadn’t even been on his radar when she’d said they needed to talk. Perhaps it should have been.

  God, he’d been such a fool! He wished he’d had the sense to walk away, right after they’d come out of the restaurant—or sooner, before he’d started the conversation that had ended up with them making a baby, of all things—

  She’d turned her back on him but she was too late. He’d seen the fear in her eyes, the tears she’d tried so hard not to shed, and he wanted to comfort her, but how, when he himself was screaming inside? What could he say that would make it better? Nothing.

  Nothing at all, because nothing short of a miscarriage or termination was going to make this go away, and even then they’d both carry the scars for the rest of their lives.

  ‘Kate—’

  He couldn’t go on, didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t just stand there watching her shoulders shake as the sobs she couldn’t hold back racked her body. His feet moved without his permission, his hands coming up to turn her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

  He felt her crumple, felt the fight go out of her as she sagged against him, and he stood there and held her and wondered what kind of a god had done this to him, to them.

  To give him his dream, everything he’d always wanted, everything he and Kerry had planned, but with a woman he didn’t know, didn’t love, while the woman he loved lay cold in her grave—

  ‘Come and sit down,’ he said gruffly, leading her to the sofa and half sitting, half falling into it with her still in his arms while the pain exploded in his head.

  He hadn’t realised he could still hurt, that anything else could possibly have touched that deep, dark place inside him left by Kerry’s death, but this had ripped it right open and he felt as if he was drowning in pain.