A Material Gift (D'Arth Series Book 2)

by Camille Oster

  Driving up the hills, he was looking forward to going home. He had absolutely no urge to go out that night, which was more usual of late. He also liked the idea of being around in case something happened. Sam was getting closer to her due date and things could conceivably get underway anytime.

  Arriving at home, the house was dark and he found Sam sitting out on the patio, wrapped in a large sweater against the brisk air. He was a little disappointed there was no delicious-smelling dinner in the oven. He didn’t expect it, but it was a lovely surprise when it happened.

  He sat down on one of the chairs. Winter had arrived, rather sharply, too. “Why are you sitting out here?”

  “I just needed a bit of air.” She looked drawn.

  “Everything alright?” He could tell that something was bothering her. She was easy to read that way, and she didn’t hold her feelings back, which made her much easier to deal with.

  “Your mother came to visit me today.”

  Sebastian froze, then groaned, imagining how that went. Anger suffused his body. He couldn’t believe his mother had gone behind his back and spoken to Sam. Actually, he could and he should have seen it coming. “I’m sorry. She gets certain ideas in her head.” He didn’t know exactly what his mother had said, but he could guess, and she could likely have used her usual amount of tact.

  “Apparently I am to withdraw at the earliest opportunity.”

  “I’m sorry. She had no right to step in. I’ve specifically asked her to stay out of this, but she perceives you as a threat to our family. She can be a bit zealous in her protectiveness.”

  Sam didn’t say anything, but she looked unhappy. “I am going to do what is best for this child. And that is not going to change because your mother thinks my opinion doesn’t matter.”

  Sebastian considered her. She did have guts—being completely alone here, taking on both him and his team of lawyers—not to mention his mother. He couldn’t help but smile, wondering if there was anything she wasn’t ready to face down for this baby. Comparing her to Shanna, there was no comparison. Shanna was completely self-absorbed, and he’d started to wonder of late what this baby had represented to her, being sure it represented some kind of reflection on Shanna—an accessory perhaps. With Shanna it was all about image and this baby was to serve some purpose in that regard.

  Anger flowed through him again, and indignity that his child should be treated in that way. Throughout, he’d had trouble seeing this as his child—trouble connecting with it. It was such an abstract idea, but its arrival was imminent. Her—a girl. What the hell was he going to do with a baby? If the absolute truth was told, he wasn’t completely assured he could love this child. Love was a loaded concept as far as he was concerned. He’d thought his love for Shanna was real, but wondered if he’d tried so hard because he wanted to love her, more than actually loving her. When they’d broken up, he’d been really angry, but he hadn’t fundamentally missed her. Maybe he just wasn’t capable of love. His mother did love him, but her love was, in all honesty, more trying that it was nurturing. What business had he bringing a baby into this life?

  He cleared his throat. The sad and confronting reality was the he didn’t think he was enough for this baby and if he cared for this baby, he would do better for her. Nervous tension filled him, even to the point where his hands had a slight tremble. “I value your opinion,” he said quietly. “I value that you are willing to fight for this child’s best interest. I think a child deserves that, and the best thing I could do for the child is to ensure it has that.”

  His mouth had gone dry and he retreated to the kitchen, opening a bottle of red and pouring himself a generous portion. He felt like he needed a moment to draw his thoughts together, because they were hurtling in a direction with a distinct point of no return.

  Sitting down at the patio table, he took another sip and cleared his throat again. “The best thing I could do for this child would be to give her a fantastic mother.”

  Sam looked suspicious and he smiled—there was no guile in her. She wasn’t playing games. “Someone who would fight for this child and put its interest before their own.” She was watching him intently now. “And I think it already has that, if I step out of the way.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That if you want to be involved with this child, I will not stand it your way; I will withdraw my challenge. Legally you are this child’s mother, at least in France, and if that is a role you want, I won’t stop you.”

  “I live on the other side of the world.”

  “I know,” he said. The thought hadn’t escaped him. “It is not ideal, but I don’t know what else to do. If I am completely honest, I think you’re a better parent than I would ever be. You were right when you accused me of thinking this child could be raised by nannies. I can’t see it working any other way.” And also he didn’t trust his taste in women in case he tried to start another relationship; he’d gone catastrophically wrong last time and he didn’t feel he could take that chance with a child looking for a mother. No, it would be a cruel option for the child, and he didn’t think he could get someone as perfect as Sam anyway. But then he had to consider if that is what Sam wanted. He’d just assumed that she did because she fought him so hard. “If that is what you want.”

  He could see Sam thinking intently. “I will take care of this child,” she said with complete seriousness. She started tearing up. “I have been grappling with the idea that I have to give her up and I just couldn’t make my mind see it.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “But what about you? Are you just giving this child up?”

  “No, ideally not, but I have to consider what’s best for this child.” He didn’t have a grasp on the idea of giving the baby up; the concept and his thoughts seemed to fleet into pieces whenever he tried to focus on it. The harder, analytical part of him knew it was the best thing. The child would grow up loved and with strong values, but there would be a cost to himself—he would miss out. Maybe not entirely; he could have a relationship with a child like any attentive but distant father, but he wouldn’t be a dad—someone the child waited for every day, who was there for every milestone. He knew there was loss there, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on it. “It is for the best,” he repeated.

  He couldn’t stay where he was; he needed to be away from there and the unacknowledged feelings that he felt were chasing him. He needed to expel energy and to be away from Sam for a moment. “I’m going to the gym,” he said with a tight smile.

  He drove to the gym, probably faster than he should have. Energy burned in his body, creating tension and luckily there was always someone around he could challenge to a game.

  Before he had time to think what he was doing and what he’d just committed to, he was on the racquet ball court, facing a young university student who was more bluster than skill, but Sebastian didn’t care—he didn’t care about the game; he just needed to hammer the little rubber ball against the wall as hard as he possibly could. He’d just given up his child and he had no other way of processing it. It was the mature thing to do—to realise and acknowledge one’s own limitations for the best of one’s family. He’d have to deal with his mother, whose fury would likely know no bounds, but if he cared for this child, he would get her the best mother he could find, even if it meant he would lose out in the bargain.

  Chapter 25

  Christmas came up disturbingly fast. Sebastian’s idea of boycotting Christmas was appealing, but Sam couldn’t quite boycott it to the point where she could treat it like a normal day. She couldn’t not have Christmas food—maybe not the full blown version, but a scaled down meal was essential. She wasn’t up to cooking something lavish. Frankly, she wasn’t up to standing for any period of time at this point.

  The supermarket had been manic when she’d gone to and bought a ham and Australian new potatoes. She’d tried finding a Pavlova, the dessert they always ate for Christmas, but had no luck. Sadly, she wasn’t prepared
to make one and settled on something sumptuous and chocolatey instead.

  The baby’s due date would arrive in a few short days, and Sam was over being pregnant—so much so she wasn’t particularly worried about the labour pains; she just wanted this done. She wanted her body back—to walk normally, to lie on her back and to sit with her knees drawn up.

  A delivery truck waited outside when she pulled into the driveway in her little Toyota, which was heaven at this point compared to her Vespa. Two men were waiting with a cot between them.

  “Sorry,” she said. “This way. I hope you haven’t waited here long.”

  “The firm was just trying to get hold of you,” one of the men said and they picked up the cot, waiting for instructions.

  After unlocking the door, Sam directed them to her room, before going back to the car for her shopping and smiling at the men as they left. The cot was here and it was in her room. They had solved the dilemma of where it should go. Placing the bags down on the kitchen island, Sam walked to her room and saw the cot along one of the walls. There would be a baby in there soon—her baby. Sitting down on the bed, Sam rubbed her belly. She was keeping this baby and it felt like the only way. A sense of peace between her and Sebastian had developed since that had been settled. Sam was a bit sad for Sebastian, but she also appreciated his decision. It wasn’t as if he was giving the baby up for adoption; he was still the father—they would just be raising a child apart, like many couples did. It might even be a good way of doing it—in a calm, co-operative relationship. As the child got older, she could spend periods of time here in Monaco if that suited everyone. Sam saw every reason for nurturing the relationship between the child and her father—his mother, maybe less so. Sam wasn’t even sure she knew of their agreement yet.

  *

  “Sam,” she heard her name being called, drawing her from her dream. She must have fallen asleep and looked at the clock by her bed to see for how long. Three hours. Struggling out of bed, she made her way out to the lounge. “You went shopping.” She spotted all the shopping bags sitting on the kitchen island where she’d left them.

  “I forgot to put it away. I fell asleep.”

  “I’m sure it’s all fine.”

  “Luckily, I didn’t get that ice-cream I was looking at. It would be just cream by now.” She helped Sebastian put things away into the fridge and the pantry.

  “How about I have some dinner delivered? Maybe some ravioli.”

  “Sounds good,” Sam said, knowing it wasn’t just ravioli; it would be some ridiculous hand-made pasta filled with lobster or truffles, covered with butter, by a restaurant that delivered its food on real plates. Actually, her mouth was watering thinking about it. “Let’s not wait.”

  Smiling, Sebastian pulled out his phone, while Sam went to sit down and put her feet up. She’d reached her limit for standing at any one time. “How was work?”

  “Since it is Christmas tomorrow, there wasn’t that much work going on.”

  “And you almost sound disappointed.”

  “I still have a large project to pull off.”

  “Are you going to be working through the Christmas period?”

  Sebastian didn’t respond, trying not to look like she’d scored a point.

  Sam shook her head. “You should go out or something. Be with your kind. Date some girls, drink yourself silly. Whatever it is you do.”

  “Are you encouraging me toward debauchery?” he said teasingly.

  “I am just saying you should do whatever it is you do when you’re not working.”

  “And leave you all here alone? Go out and party when the mother of my child is more or less due. I’m not quite that desperate for distraction. But we do have something to discuss,” he said and sat down on the couch by her.

  “Oh?” Sam said, feeling worry creep up her spine.

  “I still haven’t managed to buy you a Christmas present. And not because I couldn’t be bothered, before you accuse me. I just can’t think of something. Mrs Muir suggested a nice bag, but I’m not sure you’re a bag girl.”

  “Not really. You don’t have to get me anything, but you could help with cooking—that would probably be appreciated above all else.”

  “I can’t just get you nothing.”

  “I would hardly say you’ve gotten me nothing. You’ve given me the greatest gift you ever could,” she said, pulling her knees awkwardly under her as she faced him.

  Sebastian looked away. She hadn’t intended on making their light discussion serious, but she felt like it had to be acknowledged. Reaching out she lightly touched his hand, and he let her. “You know my reasons.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I still have to get you something for Christmas,” he said, lightening the mood again. “So, not a bag. How about jewellery?”

  “Nja,” she said non-committally.

  “A boat.”

  “What am I going to do with a boat?”

  “You’re learning to sail. Alright, a car.”

  “I already have one.”

  “An apartment?

  “A bit excessive for a Christmas present, don’t you think?”

  “You’re going to have to live somewhere.”

  “Actually, I’m going to live with my mother.”

  “And she’s okay with that? Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. It would be good to have her there.”

  “I can’t even live in the same country as my mother.”

  Sam laughed although she knew he was serious, and she couldn’t blame him. “Speaking of, have you told her?”

  “Yes, and she wasn’t happy. But by now, I’m sure her solicitors have told her that she would have a difficult time exerting her rights over ours if both of us agree with what we’re doing.”

  Sam felt a moment of guilt, knowing that Sebastian’s mother wouldn’t have as close a relationship with her grandchild as she would if the child was staying here, but that couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t an ideal situation.

  “How about a shopping trip to Milan?”

  “With a baby?”

  “A caravan?”

  “What?”

  “A pony?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I have to give you something.”

  A kiss. The thought stole into Sam’s mind, surprising her. She shoved it away and tried to quell the blush that crept up her cheeks, because it was the only thing she could think of wanting from him. “Possibly, what I could need would be a nice full length mirror.”

  “A mirror?” he repeated with disappointment. “You’re really not good at making the most of the Christmas giving thing.”

  “Alright then. How about you buy us some tickets and we’ll come see you this summer?”

  Sebastian’s face grew more serious again. “Alright.”

  “Good, that’s settled then.”

  “Well, I don’t know; it’s not very Christmassy.”

  “Fine, get me a charm bracelet. One of those ones with little charms hanging down.”

  “Yes!” he said. “That I can do.” He went to pull out his phone again and Sam wondered if there was anything he couldn’t get over the phone.

  “Good,” she said and watched him as he ordered the present, glad she had put him out of his Christmas purchase quandary, even though she had no interest at all in charm bracelets—actually she thought they were stupid, but it was the only thing that came into her head.

  *

  It was Christmas and to Sebastian it felt more like Christmas than he remembered feeling in a long time, even as they were staging a mini boycott. He didn’t have to get into his car and travel anywhere today; no traffic to grapple with, stressed families trying to get where they’re going. And no airports. There were no family obligations today; they were just going to do nothing—eat and he might drink a bit of wine.

  Sam wasn’t up when he wandered into the living room. The dinner plates from last night still on the coffee table, where
they’d eaten. He picked them up, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, marvelling at the domestic turn he’d taken of late.

  It was an overcast day and it would rain later, but for once, he wasn’t planning on leaving the house—which was a rare thing in his life.

  Sitting down, he called his mother, determining that it was best to get this over with early in the day, rather than leave it. She was still too angry with him for a long conversation, so he would probably be spared the lecture on how horrible he was to her—for now. After finishing the short conversation, he called his uncle, who was more circumspect, but understood the need of a scaled-down Christmas that year.

  Sebastian almost felt excited when he heard Sam stir. “How are you feeling?” he asked when she appeared.

  “Ugh, like a whale.”

  “People underestimate how gracious they are.”

  “Not out of water, they’re not.” Sam sat down heavily in the couch. “The baby has had hiccups for hours. It is driving me up the wall, but I’m sure she’s sleeping through it.”

  “Do you want a coffee?”

  “Yes please, a small one, with milk.”

  Sebastian worked the compact Italian coffee-maker to produce a cafe au lait for Sam and an espresso for himself. “I’m going to go for a run, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, not at all. I’m going to Skype home anyway.”