by Anne Fraser
He checked his parachute and his buckles one more time. It was unfortunate that Philip had wanted to reshoot the stunt, but the director had been right. The scene wasn’t perfect and Kendrick wasn’t happy with anything less.
Philip had asked him again whether he would be second director in the next movie. It would mean not taking up the training position with the army and less actual stunt work, but it was an interesting proposition. He would wait until he’d spoken to Elizabeth before making his decision.
He smiled again. Who would have thought that he would be glad that he had someone to talk over decisions with? He’d always made up his mind without having to consult anyone else. But this felt good—and right.
‘Ready when you are, Kendrick,’ Philip shouted. The megaphone screeched in the silent desert air.
Kendrick climbed into the car. It was the same routine as before. He’d wait until the second the car went over the cliff, with him clearly visible at the wheel, then he’d scramble out the removed rear window and jump away. It required split-second timing, but he’d done it before without mishap. It was a dangerous stunt, one only a few of the most experienced stuntmen would even attempt, but he had all the skills it required. It might be his last stunt, so he’d make sure this one was perfect. Then he could get home, throw his few belongings into a bag, including the teddy bear he’d bought for the baby, and head for the airport.
‘Okay, let’s roll,’ Philip shouted.
Kendrick grinned. Life was good.
When Kendrick opened his eyes he was in hospital. At least, that was where he thought he was. His mother was sitting by his bed, looking pale and frightened.
All he could remember was redoing the stunt with the car going over the cliff and then struggling to open his parachute, which had somehow become tangled … then nothing.
He tried to reach out to his mother, to touch her and take away the bleak look in her eyes, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move anything. It was as if he was trapped inside some kind of torture device.
A nurse leaned over him and cool, practised hands touched his forehead. ‘You’re awake, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and get the doctor.’ She scurried out before he had a chance to say anything.
His mother leaned over and kissed his cheek. Standing behind her was his father. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears in his father’s eyes.
‘Why am I here?’ Kendrick asked.
‘Try to keep still,’ his mother whispered.
He almost laughed. He couldn’t move if he tried.
More images came back to him. The desperate attempt to open his parachute, knowing he had only moments left. The sickening sensation of slamming against the side of the mountain. Then nothing.
‘Why can’t I move?’ Even as he said the words, a terrible realisation was dawning.
‘You hurt your spine in the fall,’ his mother whispered. ‘They don’t know how badly. Not yet.’
A chill was seeping into his bones. This is what he’d always dreaded. What all stuntmen and women dreaded. The thing they never talked about. The thing that was worse than death.
Where was Lizzie? There was something about Lizzie he had to remember but he couldn’t.
He closed his eyes.
When he came to again, his parents were still there. His mother was pretending that she hadn’t been crying and his father was talking to the doctor in a low, urgent voice. There were dark circles under his mother’s eyes. She should go and get some rest. Hadn’t he told her to go?
‘Could I ask you all to leave us for a moment?’ A masculine voice came from his left. Kendrick turned his head—at least that was one part of his body he could move. The voice came from a man about his age dressed in blue hospital scrubs.
Reluctantly his visitors stood. ‘We’ll be just outside the door,’ his father said gruffly, and placing his arm around Susan’s shoulders led her out of the room.
‘I’m Dr Urquhart,’ the figure introduced himself. ‘How much do you remember of what happened?’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELIZABETH waited outside the doctor’s consulting-room.
Whenever the doors of the clinic swished open she’d look up, expecting to see Kendrick striding towards her, and every time it wasn’t him her heart sank.
She glanced at her watch for the hundredth time. Ten past four. The appointment had been for four o’clock.
The feeling of dread was growing stronger. Why wasn’t he here? Had he decided after all that, however slim the chances were of having a disabled child, he couldn’t cope? He had phoned once since they’d left Brazil and after that—nothing. When he’d phoned he’d been certain he was coming.
Elizabeth twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. She’d been right to trust her instincts. Two weeks apart had been enough for Kendrick to realise that even if he did love her—and she could have sworn that he did—he couldn’t commit to the responsibilities of being a husband and father.
She shifted in her seat. She’d been so sure he loved her. But had she really believed it? Wasn’t that exactly the reason she’d imposed this time-out? Because she wanted him to be a hundred per cent certain? Because she couldn’t bear to go through again what Simon had put her through?
She’d been crazy to allow herself to hope. She should have known that it had all been too good to be true. As soon as he’d had time to think about the pregnancy, he’d got cold feet, just as she’d feared he would.
She brought her hands to her stomach. It didn’t matter. Kendrick or no Kendrick, this baby would be loved with all her soul. But it hurt. She’d let herself believe in Kendrick. Let herself think that he was different. That he wasn’t the running-away type, and she had been wrong.
A tall shape paused behind the frosted glass of the double doors and Elizabeth’s heart leaped to her throat. Kendrick! He was here. He was late, that was all. She should never have doubted him.
As happiness soared through her, she stumbled to her feet, ready to fling herself into his arms.
But as the doors swung open and it wasn’t Kendrick her heart crashed again. All of a sudden with a certainty that stole her breath she knew he wasn’t coming.
Everything blurred and she felt behind her for the seat. He wasn’t coming. He didn’t love her enough. She had to accept that. She cupped her stomach with her hands, feeling a primeval surge of protectiveness.
‘It’s just you and me, darling,’ she whispered. ‘But we’ll be okay.’ Whatever and however this baby turned out, she would love it with every fibre of her being.
Six months later, Elizabeth stood back and surveyed her handiwork. Not bad. She’d decided on pale yellow paint for the walls. That way, whether it was a boy or a girl, all she’d have to do would be to add accents in the appropriate colour. It was hard to believe she’d been back in the UK for two months, having spent four months of her pregnancy with her father in Canada.
She had found this place after a couple of weeks of searching and although it wasn’t perfect, it would do her and the baby for the time being.
As the baby moved inside her, she placed her hands on her abdomen. ‘Hey, something tells me you’re going to be like your daddy. Never happy unless you’re on the move.’
The thought of Kendrick brought a lump to her throat. She still loved him—even though he’d hurt her more than he’d ever know. But she couldn’t wallow in her misery or self-pity—she’d a baby to think about. Her doctor had told her that Kendrick had tested negative as a carrier of Gaucher’s disease. But that was all he could say. At least Kendrick had kept that promise. Not that the result made any difference. Even if Kendrick had tested positive, she wouldn’t have changed her mind about having the baby.
She picked up the photograph of Charlie and smiled. Although the memory of her daughter still made her heart ache, at least she could think of her without the heart-breaking sadness of before.
‘Hey, Charlie,’ she whispered, ‘do you think your brother or sister
is going to like their room?’
The air ambulance service had hired her and she was to take up her post six months after the baby was born. By that time she would need to have sorted some sort of help. There was no room in the flat for a live-in nanny, but if she was careful, she could afford to pay someone to come in Monday to Friday. She could manage. All this child really needed was love … and she had plenty of that to give.
As usual her mind turned to Kendrick. What was he doing? Had he gone back to the army? Was he even now on the front line or training pilots somewhere closer to home? She pushed the thought away. Kendrick was out of her life.
Taking the paintbrush with her, she walked into her kitchen. Suddenly she felt a twinge in her abdomen. It was ten days earlier than her expected due date so it was likely it was Braxton-Hicks’ contractions. But the baby could be on its way. At least she had finished painting the nursery. Her bag had been packed for a couple of weeks now. All she had left to do was assemble the cot.
Back in the nursery she surveyed the pieces with dismay. Then she gritted her teeth, picked up the instructions and set about her task.
The cot was almost half-completed when she heard a ring at the door. It was probably the postman with the stuff she’d ordered from the baby shop.
The doorbell rang again, more insistently, followed by loud banging.
‘I’m coming,’ she called, pushing a lock of hair behind her ears.
When she opened the door her heart crashed against her ribs.
‘Lizzie. Can I come in?’ Kendrick said.
Unable to speak, she stood back and without waiting for an invitation he stepped into her small hall. He was thinner than she remembered, but it wasn’t that that caught her attention. He was limping and leaning heavily on a cane. She had to grip her hands together to stop herself reaching out to him.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. But Kendrick, never one to let a lack of an invitation stop him, walked into her lounge. He sat himself down on her sofa and stretched his legs in front of him. He winced.
Elizabeth hid her anxiety. How had he hurt himself?
‘You’re looking well, Lizzie,’ he said. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes.
‘I’m fine. The baby’s fine.’ Another twinge, more like a real contraction this time, squeezed her abdomen. ‘How did you find me?’
Kendrick grinned and her heart somersaulted. She’d hoped that by now she’d have got over him a little. The way her pulse was beating told her otherwise.
‘With great difficulty,’ he said. ‘But eventually I tracked you down though the employment records of the film company.’
‘That information is supposed to be confidential.’
‘Ah, Lizzie. Don’t you know there are ways and means if you want something badly enough?’
‘You had no right, Kendrick. And you still haven’t told me why you’re here. If your conscience has got the better of you, please don’t worry. As you can see, I’m doing fine.’
He glanced over at the cot, which was standing in the same lopsided position as she’d left it. She never had been much good with reading instructions.
‘I can see that.’ He stood and limped across to the cot. ‘You haven’t done so well with this.’
Tears of fury pricked her eyes. Who did he think he was, coming in here and making her feel all sorts of stuff she didn’t want to feel?
‘I want you to leave,’ she said through gritted teeth. Just then another contraction ripped through her body and she turned away so he wouldn’t see her grimace. But he was too busy taking the cot apart and reassembling it to notice.
‘What happened to your leg?’ she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. ‘Did you crash your helicopter?’
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘Give me a minute, will you?’
Give him a minute? He had five before she should call the hospital.
‘Kendrick, I want you to leave,’ she said again. Then another pain sliced through her and this time she couldn’t help the involuntary cry that slipped out.
‘Lizzie. Is it the baby?’ Instantly he was by her side and easing her into a chair.
‘Say what you have to then leave me alone,’ she snarled through gritted teeth. As another contraction seized her, her nails dug into his arms. God, the contractions were coming too soon. No more than three minutes apart. If she didn’t want the baby born here, she had to get to the hospital.
‘Explanations can wait,’ he said grimly. ‘First I think we need to get this baby delivered.’
He insisted on taking his car, which he had parked outside. Carefully he helped her into the front seat.
‘My bag,’ she gasped. ‘I left it upstairs.’
He took one look at her. ‘I’ll get it later,’ he said. ‘Which hospital?’
Clearly he thought he was driving a stunt car, Elizabeth thought between the pains cramping her body. Kendrick was driving as if he was being chased by a man with a machine-gun, overtaking when he had the slightest gap and going up on the pavement to pass stationary cars. It would be a miracle if they weren’t stopped by the police.
‘Slow down or you’ll kill us all,’ Elizabeth ground out between clenched teeth.
But it seemed as if Kendrick was determined to beat the record for crossing London. Before Elizabeth knew it, they were pulling up outside the maternity unit of the hospital she had booked into and Kendrick was demanding that someone bring a wheelchair and a doctor right this second.
‘My girl is having a baby. Our baby,’ he told the porter who arrived with a wheelchair. The look of pride and fear on his face would have made Elizabeth laugh if she’d been less angry with him and in less pain.
‘I’m not his girl,’ Elizabeth told the porter as he steered the chair into the hospital. ‘He’s just some madman. Tell him to go.’
‘It’s all right, love,’ the porter said. ‘A lot of mothers blame the bloke at this point. You’ll see—once you have the baby, you’ll feel differently.’
‘I will not feel differently in a hundred years,’ she said. ‘He didn’t bother to turn up to the doctor’s appointment six months ago. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.’
The porter glanced across at Kendrick and frowned disapprovingly.
‘I was in hospital, mate. I couldn’t get out of bed, let alone make it to the appointment.’
In hospital? This was the first Elizabeth had heard of it. No doubt Kendrick was trying to find excuses to make himself look better in the porter’s eyes, but this was going too far.
‘Even if that’s true …’ she glared at Kendrick as another contraction hit her ‘… there are telephones. Mobiles even. I think they have them in the US too?’
Nurses were coming towards them. Hands were reaching out. They were asking her questions. How long had her contractions been coming? How far apart? Her partner could have a seat outside while they examined her to see how far along she was.
‘My husband?’ Elizabeth spat. ‘He’s the last man on earth that I will ever call my husband.’
Then she was on a bed and they were giving her gas and air. A couple of lungfuls and she started feeling as if she was floating above herself. When she looked around, Kendrick was standing over her, smiling. Who had let him in? Hadn’t she said she didn’t want him here? This was her baby. Kendrick could have visitation rights. Maybe. Once he proved he could be a reliable father.
‘You’re doing fine, Lizzie,’ Kendrick was saying. ‘It looks like our baby is going to be born quite soon.’ Kendrick was wearing a green gown and mask. All she could see were his blue eyes.
The nurse injected something into her thigh and the euphoric feeling got better.
‘Hey, did I ever tell you that I love your eyes?’ Elizabeth said out loud. Where had that come from? She didn’t like anything about the lying, miserable no-good man in front of her who had chickened out when he’d known she was having his baby. His baby, who for all he’d known at that time, could be born with a ter
rible illness.
‘You know this baby is okay, don’t you? You found out, and you decided it would be quite cute to have a child after all for the occasional trips to the park. Wait a minute …’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You probably want help on the ranch, is that it? Maybe you want to teach him or her to fly a helicopter.’
Crazy words were coming out of her mouth but she couldn’t stop them.
‘Is that it? Men like you always decide sooner or later that they want a kid. Some kind of macho need to spread your genes, and even better if you don’t have to take responsibility.’ She was proud of the way she managed to put emphasis on the last word. If he had a modicum of intelligence he’d remember that she’d told him quite clearly, once, that she didn’t need or want him to be responsible for her.
‘I’m here because I love you. I want to marry you. Have babies with you.’
Now she was hallucinating.
‘Hah! You can’t fool me,’ she said. ‘I may be drugged up to the eyeballs and I may be in love with you …’ Double oops. She had slipped up badly that time. ‘I mean, I may have thought I was in love with you, but I was wrong.’ Now she’d forgotten what she was going to say. Something about him being in love with her. Something about how that couldn’t be right.
‘'Cause if you loved me, you would have come to the hospital, or if something stopped you, you could have phoned me,’ she continued. At least he could have. Up until a month ago when she’d lost her mobile and had had to get a new number. But that had been five months after he’d promised to meet her. No one took five months to work out whether they loved someone enough to risk having a child who might not be perfect with them.
‘I couldn’t come before, Lizzie,’ he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear the words. ‘I came as soon as I could, I promise.’
‘I think we’re going to have a baby,’ the nurse said from somewhere down between Elizabeth’s legs.
Kendrick stepped towards the end of the bed and Elizabeth grabbed him by the hand. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, mister. You’re not going anywhere south of my head. So unless you want to be kicked out for sure, don’t you dare move a muscle.’