The Baby Emergency

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Don’t be.’ Ross gave a brief smile. One hand holding his towel in place, he offered the other, which Shelly accepted, allowing him to pull her up from the floor. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t just nightmares keeping me awake.’

  ‘I thought he’d been sleeping. You should have told me—’

  ‘He has slept,’ Ross interrupted. ‘At least, apart from last night.’ He sat back down on the sofa behind him and ran a hand through his damp blond spikes, his hair falling easily back into perfect place. ‘I was just worried about him.’ His blue eyes finally looked up from the floor he was staring at. ‘It’s different from being at work, isn’t it? I just felt so, so…’ His lips moved but no words came out and Shelly finished his sentence for him.

  ‘Responsible?’

  ‘That’s the word. I kept thinking, What if his blankets have fallen off? What if he’s called out and I haven’t heard? What if—?’

  ‘The laundry door isn’t locked and he’s wandered out?’ Shelly grinned as Ross looked at her with a start. ‘I checked it three times!’

  ‘I do the same,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, I’m not so bad now, and Matthew wasn’t old enough to wander when I first moved in here, but I can clearly remember those first few nights on my own with him after living with my parents. I never slept a wink.’

  ‘So I’m not going crazy?’ Ross gave a relieved laugh. ‘When I gave him that paracetamol syrup I must have checked the dosage on the bottle about five times. How many times do I write up paracetamol syrup in a day’s work? I guess it’s different when you…’ He didn’t finish the sentence again and this time Shelly didn’t jump in and help him, the unsaid word hanging in the air between them. ‘I’d better ring Dr Khan and tell him I won’t be in.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ross.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’ve never had a sicky in my life, I’m too damn healthy. I reckon I deserve one. Can I?’

  He gestured to the telephone, that simple polite gesture so completely unnecessary, but Shelly just nodded. ‘Of course. I’d better get Matthew off to crèche.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll get my stuff together and be out of here by the time you get back.’

  ‘You don’t have to go, Ross.’ The words tumbled out and Shelly could feel her breath bursting in her lungs as she carried on, speaking quickly. ‘You can sleep here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  His casual question was loaded and Shelly gave a very quick nod. ‘Of course.’

  His eyes were on her and Shelly was eternally grateful to Matthew for choosing that moment to burst into the room. ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘He didn’t sleep much last night.’ Shelly hovered, as the bows she’d so carefully tied on Matthew’s runners were undone and Lorna placed slippers on his feet. ‘He might be getting a tooth or coming down with something. If he’s miserable today—’

  ‘We’ll call you,’ Lorna said firmly but kindly. ‘Give Mummy a kiss, Matthew.’

  His tears started then. Arching his back against Lorna, he held his arms out to Shelly, crying pitifully, calling to her as Shelly, her heart breaking, turned reluctantly to the exit door.

  Even the fact she was exhausted and her bed was calling, even the fact Ross was waiting at home for her, wasn’t enough to act as a barrier to the emotions that coursed through Shelly as she sat in the car park and battled the urge to simply run back in, to grab Matthew and just take him home.

  Shelly, as usual, didn’t even take her bag off as she came into her hallway and picked up the telephone, punching in the well-used number of the crèche.

  ‘He’s fine,’ Lorna said patiently, though Shelly was positive she must be rolling her eyes as she spoke, wondering when this morning ritual would ever end. ‘He settled as soon as you left.’

  ‘Thanks, Lorna.’

  ‘What happened?’ Ross’s concerned face came straight into view as Shelly put down the telephone.

  ‘Nothing.’ Shelly unravelled a very small piece of tissue she had bunched up in her hand and dabbed at her reddened eyes. ‘Well, nothing unusual anyway. This is a regular event in this household.

  ‘He hates crèche,’ Shelly explained. ‘And I hate sending him.’ Her tears started again and Ross put an arm around her and pulled her in as she started to weep. ‘He should be at home, Ross, with me. He’s just a little boy.’

  ‘You have to sleep, Shelly. You’ve been at work all night. Don’t feel guilty for sending him.’

  But she shook her head. ‘I don’t have to work. With the money it costs to send him to crèche, I’d almost be better off staying at home.’

  ‘Then why don’t you? I mean, if that’s what you want to do.’

  ‘Because it’s a good crèche and he needs early intervention and stimulation.’ Shelly gave a wry smile. ‘I sound like the brochure. Look, I’m just tired and, like I said, this little drama happens every morning. You were just here to witness it, that’s all. I’m fine really.’

  ‘But are you?’

  Shelly shrugged. ‘Yes, I am. It’s just hard sometimes, like we were talking about this morning. It’s hard always being responsible, beating yourself up as to whether or not you’re doing the right thing. It’s just hard, dealing with it all on my own.’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  Shelly looked up at him, startled. Her words hadn’t been a cry for help, it hadn’t been a leading statement, a secret invitation for Ross to help her, but it seemed that was the way he was taking it.

  ‘Let me be there for you, Shelly.’

  She shrugged him off, pushing him away. ‘I wasn’t telling you this in the hope—’

  ‘I know you weren’t,’ Ross said quickly, one hand pulling her back and wrapping his arms firmly around her as she spoke.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I do Shelly,’ Ross said very clearly, but Shelly just shook her head.

  ‘I’m going for a shower, and then I’m going to bed.’ This time when she pulled away he didn’t pull her back. ‘’Night, then,’ Shelly said, even though it was nine a.m., even though sleeping alone today was the last thing in the world she wanted to be doing. Even though she knew she’d just broken his heart.

  Ross just stood there as she left. Stood there with a helpless look on his face as Shelly dismissed him and headed for the bedroom.

  Determined to face things on her own.

  Five minutes alone was all that was needed. The first two took care of washing, one more to dwell on Melissa’s words and two to realise that just metres away was all the man she had ever dreamed of.

  A man who cared.

  A man who clearly adored her.

  Adored Matthew, too.

  What on earth was she playing at?

  Melissa was right.

  If it couldn’t or wouldn’t work, then so be it, but denying herself the pleasure of Ross’s touch, the bliss of being loved by him, even for a moment, for the fear of one day getting hurt was a poor argument, when saying no now would hurt more than Shelly could bear.

  ‘Ross?’

  He was sitting there just a step or two away from where she’d left him, the sleeping bag pulled out onto the couch, his shoulders hunched, his head buried in his hands.

  ‘Ross,’ she said again as he dragged his eyes up to meet hers. She stood shivering, wrapped in a towel, scared to move, terrified of where her next step would lead but knowing she had to, needed to, and so badly wanted to go there.

  She didn’t have to take it.

  He crossed the room in a second. The message in her eyes displaying the clarity of her feelings, there was no need for words, no need for promises.

  The promise was all there in his kiss.

  Hot, sweet promises of the love and passion that was so much Ross, the strength the humour all there in the weight of his lips on hers as he held her close.

  And how he held her!

  Every last inch of skin pressing against her, the soapy musky scent of him dragging into her, filling her from the inside, her fing
ers coiling through his still damp hair, every touch a discovery of pleasure.

  It wasn’t just sexual desire that fuelled her, pushed her boldly on to impatiently tug at his boxers to glimpse the splendour of him, to take him in her hands—it was need. An unquenchable thirst for this most intimate knowledge, an irrepressible desire to know, to feel, to see all of him. To see him naked and splendid before her. She stared with aroused fascination, his body so perfect, so infinitely divine, and all hers for the taking. His arousal, an arousal she had instigated causing a fission of delight, a surge of feminine power, an overwhelming need to touch, to feel, to have him.

  And Ross felt it, too.

  There was nothing fumbling in his touch as he pushed away her towel, nothing blase´ about the intake of breath as he stepped back a fraction, staring in undisguised admiration at her naked body, a tremulous hand reaching out. Slowly but with breathtaking stealth he moved his hand over the soft peach of her skin. Capturing her face in the palm of his hand, he slipped a finger between Shelly’s softly parted lips, and in silent understanding she moistened the tip with her tongue, her breath catching in a strangled gasp in her throat as he teased one jutting nipple with his moistened finger, the pink swelling engorging with delicious pain, the other hand cupping the sweet welcoming warmth between her legs as Shelly groaned, her body arching toward his with an insatiable need to be filled, a voracious desire to be as close as man and woman could ever be.

  He carried her to the bedroom, her bedroom, the one room he had been denied, the one area he hadn’t inhabited.

  Until now.

  Now he filled the room as if it were his, laid her on the bed as if it were theirs, the dominant male in him surfacing gloriously as he climbed over her, nudging her legs apart with one powerful thigh, his lips scorching a blaze across her stomach, working their way across her swollen breasts and up ever upwards to her taut arched neck, finding her swollen mouth the second he entered her, her gasp of sweet, sweet pain filling his own mouth as he moved inside her, Shelly’s most intimate vice gripping him ever tighter as they moved together, rose together, bucked together, the morning air filled with their gasps as their desires were met, their needs fulfilled. No question of prolonging the moment, their lust too overwhelming, the meeting of two bodies so longed for, so eagerly awaited, to have held back now would have been to deny the sweetest release of all. As he thrust ever deeper, Shelly’s body spasmed beneath him, tightening, pulling, wrapping, pulsing, every inch of his gift such a pleasure to receive she gasped his name as her body shuddered beneath him, as he collapsed with exhausted pleasure on top of her, their glistening, warm bodies wrapped together in a mutual embrace.

  ‘I’ve wanted this moment for so long, Shelly,’ Ross murmured, kicking back the sheets and pulling her onto the pillows, covering her tenderly then wrapping his arms around her. ‘I’ve dreamed of going to sleep with you beside me.’ He was kissing her closing eyes now, his words so sweet that if they hadn’t been so heartfelt they would have been corny, but she could hear the genuineness behind them, his touch so reverent, so wondrous, not for a second did she doubt that he meant every last one of them.

  Waking in Ross’s arms was almost as blissful as falling asleep in them. The hot afternoon sun blazed through a chink in the curtains, catching one of her long auburn curls that had strayed under his head, watching where the strawberry of her hair met the blond of his.

  Melissa was wrong.

  Strange, the thought that flicked into her mind. Melissa was wrong, because one moment in the sun with Ross by her side simply wasn’t enough.

  If this was all there was, if the hurdles undoubtedly before them ultimately proved too great, if this was all there could be for them, though Shelly could never regret what had just transpired, though she would always remember it with love, the agony of losing him had suddenly magnified, and she shivered at the uncertainty that surrounded them.

  Don’t.

  The word resounded in her ears as surely as if she’d spoken it, but Ross didn’t stir beside her and Shelly wriggled onto her side, propping herself on her elbow and wallowing in the luxury of watching Ross sleep. Entrenching each and every feature on her mind, revelling in the beauty of awakening beside him, the gentle silence of the late afternoon, the inner peace she had finally found.

  The solace she couldn’t bear to lose.

  A lazy eye peeped open, and he simultaneously smiled, not a hint of embarrassment, not a hint of regret between them, their bodies stretching languorously together, curious hands exploring each other.

  ‘So this is what a sicky feels like. I think I might just have to ring Dr Khan and tell him I’ve had a relapse and can’t come in again tomorrow.’

  ‘There’s still tonight,’ Shelly said seductively. ‘And still another hour or so before I have to pick up Matthew.’ Her hand was tracing the muscular outline of his stomach now, edging downwards to the soft velvet warmth that reared eagerly to greet her.

  ‘Time for some afternoon delight, then,’ Ross mumbled into her hair as Shelly disappeared beneath the duvet. ‘What are you laughing at?’ Pulling her up level to his face, he smiled as she carried on giggling.

  ‘I’ve been so wrong about you, Ross, so very, very wrong.’ Another gurgle of laughter as she dived back beneath the covers. ‘You are a natural blond after all!’

  He just adored her.

  Ross rose from the crumpled sheets while she showered to ensure a welcome cup of coffee met her as she stepped out of the en suite, rubbing her hair with a towel, then climbing back into bed to watch with blatant adoration as she dressed and brushed her hair.

  ‘You’re beautiful, Shelly.’

  Up to that moment in time, Shelly would have blushed, would have laughed off his compliment, waved a dismissive hand, but this was no ordinary moment and this was no ordinary day. Under his loving gaze Shelly was able to accept the compliment with all the sincerity behind it. Putting down her brush, she turned from the mirror, a lump filling her throat as she took in the sight of him lying on her bed.

  Her fantasy fulfilled.

  ‘So are you, Ross.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘HE’S been fine,’ Lorna said cheerfully before Shelly even had a chance to ask. ‘A little bit grizzly after his afternoon nap, but he perked up for music therapy. I think you might have a budding Spaniard here, you should see him shaking the maracas.’

  The usual still damp ‘painting’ was handed to Shelly, along with Matthew’s bag, and Shelly, loaded like a pack horse, staggered out to the car.

  ‘Did you have a nice day?’ Shelly asked as she strapped him into his seat. ‘Lorna said you had fun making music.’

  Little blue eyes stared back at her but Matthew didn’t even attempt a nod. Driving home, Shelly kept up her usual light-hearted chatter, but for once Matthew didn’t chat back happily from the rear seat.

  Not that he ever actually said much, his vocabulary was too limited for any sort of in-depth conversation, but usually he babbled away, pointing to the cars, the clouds, anything that took his interest. Even when Shelly popped in a favourite CD and sang along to the music, checking in the rear-view mirror she found herself frowning when she saw that Matthew had fallen asleep.

  He’s tired, Shelly reasoned. After all, he was awake for most of the night.

  ‘Hey, Matty!’ Ross came out onto the driveway as Shelly pulled up. Opening the rear door of the car, he helped Shelly with the bags and painting as Shelly lifted her little sleepy-headed boy out of the car.

  ‘He’s worn out.’

  ‘I don’t blame him.’

  Dinner was a quick affair, for Matthew at least, a bowl of his favourite fish fingers, and for once Shelly didn’t push him with his vegetables when he firmly shook his head, rubbing his eyes and grizzling as he pushed away the bowl.

  ‘How about an early bath and bed?’ Shelly suggested, scooping him up.

  ‘Do you want me to take a look at him?’ Ross offered. ‘My bag’s in the car.’<
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  ‘You’ve got a doctor’s bag?’ Shelly grinned.

  ‘Yep,’ Ross said with a just a hint of a blush.

  ‘Did your proud parents buy it for you when you passed your finals?’

  ‘I don’t think they even noticed,’ Ross said with an edge to his voice. ‘I bought it myself.’

  Shelly found herself frowning. That dark wistful note that occasionally appeared in Ross’s voice was back, but just as she registered the fact, Matthew chose that moment to bring up his half-eaten dinner, crying as he retched, and any hopes of resuming the conversation flew out of the window as the next half-hour was spent bathing Matthew and mopping the floor, then visiting the shower for seemingly the umpteenth time that day.

  ‘I’d hate to see your water bill.’ Ross grinned as she came into the living room. He was holding a freshly bathed Matthew in his arms, reading him his bedtime story, and Shelly was grateful she could busy herself drying her hair, such was the lump in her throat.

  OK, children were sick all the time, Shelly knew that better than anyone. But the night’s mini-drama had been made so much easier with Ross there, and though he had examined him thoroughly, checked his ears and throat, gently palpated his stomach, it had nothing to do with the fact that Ross was a doctor and everything to do with him being a fabulous caring man. An extra pair of hands to help when Matthew was crying, to fetch the mop and make a couple of light-hearted jokes, someone to hold Matthew while Shelly dived in the shower, someone to reassure her that Matthew really was OK.

  What a different scenario it would have been without him. Bathing a teary Matthew by herself, reassuring a fretful child alone, tucking him in, knowing she had to come out and face the mess she hadn’t had a chance to clear up.

  ‘Should I give him some paracetamol?’ Shelly asked.