by Lisa Worrall
Selena grunted as she pushed, and Micah kept up a steady stream of encouragement, while Harry held her hand. The baby crowned with the first push and the head was born. Micah was once again thankful he’d been here. This was definitely one of the fastest births he’d attended. He had a feeling that if the ambulance had been two streets away, it still wouldn’t have been quick enough. “The head’s out,” he said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. He gently held the baby’s head and instructed Selena to pant. “Okay, Selena, one more little push… that’s it… a little more… that’s it!” He eased out the shoulders and the body swiftly followed. Micah laid the baby on a clean, warm towel his mother had laid out for him. He grabbed the sterilised bag clip and clamped the cord. “Harry,” he said softly. “Do you want to cut the cord?”
Harry took the scissors and cut where Micah indicated. “It’s a boy, Mum,” he gasped, the look of utter awe on his face swelling Micah’s heart in his chest. “And a big boy by the looks of it!”
“That’s the cord, you wally,” Micah scoffed, wrapping the baby in the towel and handing it to Harry. “Say happy birthday to your new sister.”
“Ambulance is here, Micah,” Jenny said, peering through the curtains.
“Thanks, Mum,” Micah said, standing up. “Sarah, can you help me get Selena over onto her back?”
While they settled Selena back against the pillows, the paramedics were ushered in by Maggie and Rich, the pub’s chef. “Hey Micah,” the taller of the two men said, putting his bag down on the floor. “I won’t ask what’s been going on here.”
“Hey, Brendan,” Micah replied. “Baby girl born at ten-thirty-seven. Still awaiting afterbirth, but both mother and baby doing fine. Big brother a little shell-shocked.” He grinned at Harry, who stared down at his sister with unadulterated joy as the little girl wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb. Micah put his hands on Harry’s hips and guided him to the bed and sat him down beside Selena. He dropped a kiss on the top of Harry’s head. “I know it’s going to be hard to let her go, babe, but maybe you’d like to introduce her to Mummy?”
Harry blinked, as though suddenly realising where he was. “Right… yeah… sorry.” He laid the baby in Selena’s arms. “You did it, Mum. Look how beautiful she is.”
“Oh my God,” Selena whispered, bending to kiss her new daughter. “She looks just like you when you were born, Harry.”
Micah smiled to himself as he dealt with the afterbirth. As usual in the afterglow of seeing your new baby for the first time, Selena barely noticed the removal of the sac that had nourished her daughter for the last nine months. Micah was used to it. The adrenalin was always pumping way too fast. He studied the afterbirth, making sure it was intact, then handed it off to Brendan to be weighed on the scales Jenny had found in the kitchen. Micah breathed a huge sigh of relief, knowing his part was over and the paramedics could take it from here on in. After washing his hands in the now cool boiled water, he dried them off and then perched on the edge of the bed beside Harry. He leaned into his warmth as Harry slipped his arm around Micah’s waist and pulled him close.
Micah reached over and stroked his fingers across the baby’s forehead. It always amazed him how soft their skin was, how perfect. He gazed down at the new addition to Harry’s family—his family. She had a mop of black hair, dark blue eyes and her little lips were pursed in the perfect bow, as if she was expecting the Prince to ride up on his steed and give her true love’s kiss. He chuckled inwardly at himself. Waxing lyrical after witnessing the miracle of life was kind of his thing. Harry was right. She was beautiful.
“You did it,” Micah said softly, squeezing Selena’s fingers. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too,” Selena replied. “I told you it was going to be fast.”
Micah laughed. “I didn’t think you meant that fast! It’s a good job you didn’t sneeze. She’d have shot across the floor.”
“Micah?” Brendan interrupted them. “We need to take them in.”
Micah nodded and gave Selena a reassuring smile. “Selena, Brendan and Dave are going to take you and the baby to hospital. There’s nothing to worry about. But you have to both be checked out, and she needs her vitamin K injection. Of course, if I’d had a little warning, I’d have had everything we need here… but the maternity ward is very comfortable so I’m told, and you’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep.” He stroked the baby’s downy cheek. “Something this little madam is going to keep you from for a while.”
“I’ll come with you, Mum.”
“No, no,” Selena waved Harry’s suggestion away. “You stay with Micah and get some sleep. We’ll be fine. Besides, the police said they’d be back to take your statements in the morning. Your father’s going to have a tough time wriggling out of this one.” Micah’s heart ached as Selena gently touched the bruising on Harry’s face. “My sweet, sweet boy. You saved me. Not only tonight, but in so many ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine.” Her voice cracked on the last. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mum.” Harry kissed her gently and wrapped both her and the baby in his long-armed embrace. Micah turned away, feeling like an intruder, until Harry yanked him into the circle and held him tight.
“Sorry to break this up, folks,” Brendan said, clearing his throat. “But we really ought to be going.”
“Okay, boys.” Micah stood up and took the baby from Selena while Brendan and Dave lifted her onto the trolley. He gently placed the baby back into her arms and covered them both with the blankets. “I’ll call the ward tomorrow and see what time we can spring you,” he said softly, dropping a kiss onto Selena’s head.
“Take care of my boy,” she said, laying her palm against his cheek.
Micah nodded and stood back so Harry could follow Selena and the paramedics from the room. He jumped at the dab of a screwed up tissue against his cheek, and looked down at his mother, who gazed up at him with a fond smile on her face. Sniffing loudly, he wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair. The scent of Estee Lauder’s Beautiful filled his nostrils, then the tight hold he’d desperately had on his emotions gave way, and he crumbled. “Mum,” he sobbed, painful gasps of air squashing his lungs.
“Sssh,” Jenny soothed, rubbing small circles of comfort on his lower back. “Let it out, my beautiful boy, Mummy’s here.”
Micah sank into her embrace, feeling the warmth of her breath on his neck and not even understanding the soft nonsense she murmured in his ear. Not that it mattered. She knew the overwhelming ‘what-if’s’ pin-wheeling around his head. The indescribable terror at the possibility of spending even a moment without Harry by his side. The instinctive need for the unconditional comfort only a mother’s arms could bring.
“Oh, God… Mum… I almost—”
“But you didn’t.” Harry’s arms came around him from behind, his voice firm yet gentle in his ear.
Micah buried his face in Harry’s chest, as Jenny guided him into Harry’s arms and stepped away. He vaguely heard muffled voices and a closing door, but all that mattered was the man whose warmth surrounded him.
“It’s okay, baby,” Harry murmured. “I’m okay.”
“But what if I hadn’t seen that goon?” Micah curled his fingers in Harry’s shirt. “What if your dad had got you back to that house? What if he’d—” His breath caught in his throat. The memory of Harry’s father’s previous attempt at ‘conditioning’ his son closed its icy grip around his heart.
“Stop,” Harry said as he cupped Micah’s face and lifted it so he could look into his eyes. “I’m here… we’re together… and nothing is going to separate us again.” Harry smiled softly and thumbed away the tears on Micah’s cheeks. “You saved the day, gorgeous. Rode right in on your fiery steed like the proverbial white knight.”
Micah huffed out a laugh. “Don’t forget my merry band of pensioners.”
“Hey,” Harry grinned. “Don’t knock it. Do you know how hard it is to fi
nd frying pan wielding pensioners nowadays—and we’re lucky enough to have a whole army of ‘em on our doorstep! Not to mention the fact that you brought my baby sister safely into the world. The way you took control… so calm and collected… you were magnificent.”
“I’d like to tell you I was just doing my job,” Micah said. “But I was terrified.”
“It didn’t show.” Harry leaned in and kissed him. “You were wonderful.” He brushed his knuckles against Micah’s cheek in a soothing caress. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to crash after all that adrenalin. Let’s go home.”
Micah nodded. He could feel his own body beginning to shut down and home, in their bed, wrapped around Harry, was the only place he wanted to be. “We ought to clean up in—” He looked at the bed and frowned. It had been stripped completely. “How?”
“Those pesky pensioners again,” Harry said with a soft smile as he took Micah’s hand and led him from the bedroom. “Jenny, Doris and Sarah did it while you had your mini-meltdown.”
“It was hardly a meltdown,” Micah huffed, nudging Harry in the ribs for the tease. He acquiesced at the look Harry shot him and mumbled, “Okay, maybe just a little one.”
Harry ushered him out of the front door and locked it behind them. “Miniscule,” he said reassuringly then wrapped his arm around Micah’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “Come on, Sir Galahad. Let’s get some sleep.”
They crossed the road in silence, Harry’s touch firmly in the small of Micah’s back as Micah opened the door and stepped inside. He waited, his foot on the first step while Harry flicked up the catch and then slid the deadbolt into its housing with a resounding click.
Micah headed up the stairs, the comforting clump of Harry’s footfalls following behind him. He was exhausted. The adrenalin high was well and truly over and he was shutting down at a rate of knots. Micah smothered a yawn with the back of his hand and walked into the bedroom. He paused by the chest of drawers, laying a palm flat on the wood to retain his balance as he toed off his boots. Then he gave a nano-second’s thought to having a shower. It was probably even less than that, because his bed was between the chest of drawers and the shower, and there was no way he was going to be able to walk past it without throwing himself down on top of the duvet. The shower could wait. He walked towards the bed, stripping off his clothes and leaving them where they fell. The washing basket was too far away and he really didn’t give a shit. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and glanced up at Harry, who stood a few steps inside the room, fumbling with his shirt buttons.
Micah’s heart ached at the violent shaking of Harry’s fingers as he struggled with the tiny discs. He stood up and crossed the room in a couple of strides, covered Harry’s hands with his own, stilling their movement. Harry stared at him for a moment and then dropped his hands to his sides. Micah dealt with the buttons and pushed the shirt off Harry’s shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Then he quickly sent the rest of Harry’s clothes in the same direction, until Harry stood naked before him. He led Harry to the bed and slid in beside him, face to face, before pulling the duvet up to cover them both.
The bruising on Harry’s face had darkened and Micah couldn’t help but touch the pad of his finger to the discolouration. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him—there were those ‘what if’s’ again. “Ha—” He didn’t even finish his name before Harry’s face crumbled and his whole body began to shake. Micah wrapped his arms around him, his cheek pressed against Harry’s hair as he lost his tight hold on his emotions. “It’s okay, baby,” he soothed. “I’m here… you’re safe… let it go… just let it all go… I’ve got you.”
“I thought… I thought I’d never… see you again,” Harry sobbed against Micah’s chest. “They forced their way in… knocked me to the floor… and my father… he… he—”
“Ssh, it doesn’t matter,” Micah whispered. “He can’t hurt you anymore—I won’t let him.”
“Those men… he said he would… again.”
“No,” Micah would never know how he managed to keep his tone even. “I will never let him hurt you again. I promise you that, with everything that I am. I meant what I said. You’re my family, Harry. My everything. He can’t touch us, not anymore. After we speak to the police tomorrow, he’ll never be able to come anywhere near any of you again.”
“And you’ll be with me?” Harry’s sobs had subsided to a hiccupping level and he lifted his head to search Micah’s gaze for reassurance.
Micah nodded and kissed him tenderly. “Every step of the way.” Harry smiled and laid his head in the curve of Micah’s shoulder, and it wasn’t long before his breathing deepened as he fell asleep. Micah closed his eyes and felt the tension leave him as the arms of sleep reached out to take him. He drifted into unconsciousness with Harry’s heart beating rhythmically beneath his hand.
Epilogue
“Out!” Micah yelled, pointing to the pavilion. He scowled at the umpire who indicated the ball had definitely not hit the stumps, and the bowler—who happened to be Harry—should return to his position at the other end of the square. “Are you kidding, Ump? That was out!”
“Will you shut up,” Sarah said, nudging him with her elbow. “Do you want the away team to peanut you again like last year?”
Micah huffed at the reminder. Not that he needed one. Having a team of burly cricketers carry you across the field then pin you against the church gate wasn’t something you forgot. Followed by the pointless struggle while one of them removed your tie, wrapped it around a railing and then re-knotted it around your throat before walking away and leaving you there. “But it was out,” he complained.
“So is my cousin, Frankie,” Sarah shot back, “but you don’t hear him shouting about it!”
“Please, your cousin Frankie was never in,” Micah scoffed. “If you look up out in the Oxford & English, there’s a picture of Frankie under it drinking a Babycham and holding a dildo.” Sarah pulled a face at him, but he noticed she didn’t exactly deny it. Then again, not even Frankie himself would have bothered being affronted by the aspersions Micah had cast against his character. Not least because, after coming out, Micah was the first person Frankie had hit on.
Micah began to clap with the rest of the assembled onlookers as the men in their now not so pristine whites, walked toward the pavilion. He glanced up at the scoreboard and nodded, confident that Little Mowbury would beat the opposition’s one hundred and twenty-two for eight after tea. Why wouldn’t he be confident? He did have insider information after all—he lived with their best batter. Speaking of which… Micah leaned back on his elbows and watched Harry walk towards where he lounged on the blanket. Sometimes it was hard to imagine it had already been a year since the last cricket match between Little Mowbury and their rivals, Ellendale.
It had been a rough road, and there had been more than one occasion during the trial when they’d had to listen to the defence drag Harry and Selena through the mud. Those were the times when Micah had found Harry packing his bags and telling him he deserved someone who was… normal. Of course, Micah had gently calmed him down with soothing words of love and understanding, indicating that he was talking total bollocks and why on earth would he want someone normal when he could have Harry? Those times had usually ended with a fiery exchange followed by hours of Micah showing Harry just how much he was loved. Hell, watching Harry break over and over again when he was questioned on the stand had been the hardest thing Micah had ever had to do. He’d never felt so powerless.
The trial had ended last week when the jury had found Harry’s father guilty of false imprisonment, assault and kidnapping in the time it had taken Micah to visit the bathroom. The judge had looked down on Harry Boyd III and called him a despicable excuse for a human being, who used his position and power to keep his wife and son virtual prisoners in their own home and subject them to years of mental, sexual and physical abuse. After which he said it gave him great pleasure to sentence him to fifteen years.
Of course, Micah would have been happier with life… or drawing and quartering… or his head on a pike, but the release of tension in Harry and his mother had been immediate, so Micah couldn’t consider the outcome anything but a good one. Not least because Harry’s nightmares had lessened.
Micah smiled as Harry flopped down on the blanket behind him and placed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. The night terrors had started a few days after the incident at Lilac Cottage. Harry had almost scared Micah straight when he’d begun to thrash around in the bed beside him, and it was only after eight months of Harry surviving on four hours or less of sleep, that Micah had convinced him to seek the professional help he so desperately needed. And that seeking that help was not a weakness, no matter what his arsehole of a father had brainwashed him into thinking.
“Hey,” Harry murmured, his lips close to Micah’s ear. “You’re right, that last ball was definitely out.”
“See!” Micah pointed at Sarah who ignored him completely. He slapped at Harry’s hand as he delved into the picnic basket Jenny had prepared. “Aren’t you supposed to get your tea from the pavilion with the other players?”
“Pfft,” Harry replied, accepting a heavily laden plate from Jenny with a grateful smile. “Why on earth would I eat cheese sandwiches that have started to curl at the edges and cheap fairy cakes from Aldi when my mother-in-law packs the best basket in the village?”
“You leave him alone,” Jenny said, nudging Micah with her foot from her position in her deck chair next to Selena’s, straw hat pulled firmly down on her head to protect her from the sun. “Pay him no mind, Harry, there’s more than enough.”
Micah resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would only earn him another jab in the thigh from her flip-flopped foot. But managed to mumble, “Suck up” low enough for only Harry to hear, who grinned smugly around the mouthful of chicken salad he’d fished out of the basket.