The Surgeon's Love-Child

by Lilian Darcy

  Better than 'working'. Lord, he was loving his discovery of this woman!

  He loved the vein of wickedness in her newly unleashed sensuality. A couple of weeks ago, she'd eaten a dessert of fresh raspberries and whipped cream off his chest, making the action of her tongue deliberately erotic until they'd both collapsed in laughter.

  He loved the way she worked with such efficiency and focus, loved the things that tickled her sense of humour, loved the impression she sometimes unconsciously gave that she was shedding an old, painful skin now that she was here in Australia, and that she was ready to tackle life in new ways.

  He was aware, though, of just how new their connection was. Less than two months. Intuition and chemistry aside, human beings were complex, and there were a lot of things he didn't know about her yet. Had they spent too much time in bed? There was still a strong possibility that this affair could drift into very dangerous waters...

  'Uh...Steve, we have something to discuss,' she began.

  'Again?' The word slipped out before he thought, and he saw her flinch.

  'No, this is something new,' she said steadily, then gave a short laugh. 'Extremely new.'

  'Along the same lines of "new" as the raspberries and cream, I hope.'

  'Don't.' She took a deep breath. 'Lord, I just have to say it, don't I? Steve, I'm pregnant.'

  Whump!

  That was the sound of his backside hitting the couch with force. He suddenly knew what the expression 'legs turned to jelly' meant, in a way he never had before. Beyond the beating of blood in his head, he had wit enough to understand at once that his first reaction to this news was critical. Still, the only thing he could come up with at first was, 'That's...a surprise.'

  'I know.' She nodded. 'I mean, it isn't really. It happens.

  We've, um, been doing our best. But, yes, it's a surprise.' She flushed, then smiled, and that gave him his first clue.

  She's thrilled.

  He took a deep breath. The frog in his throat doubled in size. 'Congratulations,' he managed, and she beamed.

  Then she frowned, pressed her palms to her cheeks and gabbled, 'It's crazy to be happy about it. But I am. I'm sorry, it's— I'm just telling you. I'm not asking for anything. Haven't worked out...well, anything. Not yet.'

  'What does it mean for us?' he said, suspecting it was probably one of the questions she wanted to ask him herself.

  She spread her hands, just as Steve might have done. 'Don't know.'

  'I'm not going to turn my back on you,' he promised.

  It was vague, he felt, but sincere. God, what did you promise? Nothing that might turn out, later, to be unfair. Nothing that she might interpret wrongly, or magnify too much. As he'd thought before, in a slightly different context, he wasn't yet fully certain of the job description here.

  'I didn't think you would,' she said.

  There was a light shining in her eyes. It panicked him considerably.

  'But I'm not going to marry you either,' he said, too abruptly. 'Not out of the blue. It wouldn't be fair. Or sensible.'

  Her chin came up. 'I'm not asking you to marry me, Steve. I hadn't expected this sort of a connection between us either. I'm here for a year. This was—'

  'A fling, right?' The word didn't taste right. It reminded him of Agnetha, and he didn't like it. He'd stopped comparing Candace with Agnetha a long time ago. 'I mean—'

  'No, it's a good word,' she said. 'Let's not... Let's keep this honest. That's been working for us, hasn't it?'

  'Yeah, it has.'

  'This is going to take some working out.'

  'And yet you're thrilled,' he pointed out softly. 'Don't try and deny it, because it's shining like a hundred-watt globe in your face, Candace. Why are you thrilled?'

  She laughed. 'Because...'

  Then she burst into tears.

  His instinct was to go to her, and he did. Privately, though, his panic level was climbing. Just how much of this sort of thing were they both in for? They'd known each other for less than two months They didn't have the foundation for this. Mood swings and nausea, weight gain, aching legs.. .and gossip, for heaven's sake, because eventually people would have to know...

  And at the end of all that, a baby. A human being, made from the two of them. Candace's due date would come just a month or two before she was due to return home. Unless she cut short her time here and went back to Boston early. Would he want that? He didn't know.

  Oh, yes, and he was panicked all right. He gritted his teeth and willed it not to show, held her, chafed her back lightly with his palms and waited. She controlled herself quickly and apologised. 'Oops! Where did that come from?'

  'It's fine,' he said.

  'Ah, no, you were terrified.' She smiled, slid out of his arms, wagged a finger at him, grabbed a tissue from the end table and dried her eyes and nose. 'Nine months of hormones ahead. Who wouldn't be terrified?'

  'Well...'

  'Look, it's simple.'

  'Tell me, then.' He tried not to make it sound too desperate. 'I need to hear something simple.'

  'I loved having Maddy,' she said. 'I always wanted another baby. My ex-husband convinced me we shouldn't. Now I'm having one, and against all logic—I'm very capable of recognizing logical behaviour, Steve, even if I can't produce it right now—I'm thrilled. I'm going to live inside that feeling for a little while, then start making sensible plans when the dust has settled.'

  When will that be? he wondered inwardly. I've got dust to settle, too.

  'Wanted to tell you straight away,' she went on, 'because—well, because I believe it's your right to know.'

  His right to know.

  Just that? Or could he claim more than that?

  His right to be involved.

  At the moment, he sensed, neither of them knew.

  CHAPTER SIX

  'I can't stand it, Mom. Can you talk to Dad and ask if I can stay with Grammy until school's out? Then I'm going to come and have summer vacation with you,' Maddy announced on the phone, on a Monday morning near the end of May, without pausing for breath.

  Candace, in contrast, had to pause for quite a large, long, careful breath before she replied. Almost eight and a half weeks pregnant now, she was feeling very queasy for much of the time.

  'Till school's out,' she repeated. 'That's, what, about two weeks from now?'

  'Tell Dad you're missing me.'

  'It's true. I'm missing you a lot. I knew I would.'

  'And you want me there. Tell him to get me a ticket. Brittany's driving me nuts, and the baby cries all the time.'

  'I expect that drives her nuts.'

  'He's adorable when he's not crying. Like, the three minutes per day when he's not crying! She has this pile of baby-care books about six feet high beside her bed, and it's all she ever talks about. How to get him to not cry. I try not to be home. I practically live at Alicia's or Grammy's. In fact, if I could live at Grammy's until you get back next March, it just might stop me from going totally insane. I think Brittany's over-feeding him.'

  'How would you know that, honey?'

  'He's getting fat! She gives him, like, twelve bottles a day. And that I know because for some reason it's my job to wash and sterilise them. Figure that out! Suddenly, it's tied to my allowance. Which, admittedly, has been doubled,' she drawled, and Candace had to laugh.

  She wanted to say, I love you, but knew the reception these words would receive. Instead, she kept listening.

  'And we never eat properly. Dad picks up take-out practically every night. You know, I wouldn't have thought I could get sick of junk food but I'm here to tell you, it's happened. You should be so pleased with me! I want salad, and that casserole you make...'

  'OK, enough! I'd love it if you came out.' Which was close to I love you but not quite as bad.

  'Then Grammy will come a couple of weeks later, and we'll go home together, because I have to be back for drama camp,' Maddy said happily, betraying the fact that the thing was a done deal before she even
picked up the phone.

  Both of them! Candace thought. An attack on two fronts. And Elaine and Maddy had always been as thick as thieves.

  Her stomach dropped.

  'So when exactly will that be, honey?'

  'About the end of July. Grammy can only take two weeks.'

  I'll be nearly four months pregnant by then, and if this one's the same as Maddy, I'll already be starting to show, to anyone who takes a close look. Mom might easily guess. And a few weeks after that, everyone will.

  Candace hadn't faced this inevitable development yet. Hadn't faced a lot of things. Was concentrating, to a large extent, on simply getting through the days without her condition becoming obvious to her colleagues immediately. She felt horribly ill, especially if she ate the wrong foods at the wrong times or if she didn't get enough rest—and that meant at least ten hours' sleep out of every twenty-four.

  Her slower work pace, here in Australia, was the only thing that made it possible to keep her pregnancy a secret. She slept late whenever she could, went to bed early, took a nap in the middle of the day at least twice a week, and lived on a steady intake of finger foods like crackers and grapes and toast.

  Being pregnant at almost thirty-nine was very different to being pregnant at twenty-two, she found.

  It wasn't just her increased fatigue and nausea. There was also the question of prenatal testing. It hadn't been an issue with Maddy. Back then, she'd had every expectation of giving birth to a healthy baby, and she hadn't been disappointed. This time, a decision had to be made, and it was one of many things that she and Steve hadn't talked about.

  They were still seeing each other. Nothing had yet given them a reason to end their affair. This had to count as a plus. It was like walking on eggshells, most of the time, however. Not wanting to drag him down, Candace did her best to pretend, when they were together, that she wasn't pregnant at all. She got a lot of practice at this during surgery and office hours, so she was getting rather good at it.

  Steve, on the other hand, treated her as if she were made of tissue paper. He probably wouldn't have made love to her at all if she hadn't seduced him every time. When she did, he left her in no doubt that he appreciated the effort, and this began to form a nourishing centre to their fresh young relationship.

  Her body was exquisitely sensitive to his touch at the moment, and he was so determined to be gentle that time seemed to stretch and hours would go by...

  It couldn't continue this way. They needed to do more than just laze about together.

  'I'm starting to know this look,' Steve said to her, greeting her at his front door on the evening of the day that Maddy had called. He tilted his head a little as he studied her. 'Come in, all three of you.'

  'All three?'

  She frowned as she eased past him into the welcoming, warmly lit interior of his living room. She liked his place. It was relaxed yet cosy, decorated in a simpler and more masculine version of her own rented house nearby. The blues he'd used were a little darker, like the ocean in a storm, and they were offset by cool cream instead of sunny yellow. She was beginning to feel at home here. Too much so, maybe.

  'Yes,' he answered her. 'All three. You, the baby and that packet of chips you're hugging. It's almost as big as you are.'

  'I was hungry, and I knew if I didn't—'

  'Bring the chips and start munching on them at once, you'd throw up. I know. Here, let me help,' he said, taking the packet from its cradled position in her arms and ripping it apart at the top.

  He handed the opened packet back to her, then touched her face gently and slid his fingers back over her loosened hair. 'Have you come for dinner?' he asked.

  'I've started on dinner already,' she said, crunching down on a huge curvy chip. The salt was heaven, and her stomach lay down obediently. It was a pity that the effect wouldn't last.

  'I haven't,' he said. 'Started cooking, that is. So what do you feel like?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Pasta?'

  'Fine. But it can wait.'

  He took her in his arms and rocked her to and fro, shifting his weight easily from side to side. 'Poor thing. Sit down, eat your chips, and tell me about that look.'

  'The...?'

  'The look on your face. A number three, if I'm reading it right. It's the one that says we've got something to talk about.'

  'Right. Gosh! You've got a numbering system for my expressions!'

  'Sit!'

  Gently, he pushed her down onto the couch and sat beside her. There was something immensely comforting about the warm press of his thigh along hers.

  Or perhaps it was the chips.

  Taking another one, she leaned her head into his shoulder, felt his arm drop around her and decided, no, it isn't either of those things. It's the fact that he can read my expressions. It's nice.

  Aloud, she said, 'We need to make a decision about prenatal testing, Steve. A chorionic biopsy is ideally done at about eleven weeks, and I'm already eight and a half.'

  'I know,' he said quietly. 'I was going to give you three more days and then bring up the subject myself.'

  'Why three more days? You didn't need to wait. You could have brought it up whenever you wanted. Has it been on your mind?'

  'On my mind? What do you think?' His voice rose abruptly, and he slid away from her, sprang to his feet and began to pace the room. 'Of course it has, after what happened to Matt and Helen! Good grief, Candace!'

  She gasped and stumbled instinctively to stand as well, then had to stop and clutch her stomach, gripped by nausea.

  'Oh, hell, I'm sorry,' she muttered through clenched teeth. Her lips were tight and dry, and the nausea was threatening to take over completely. It was an effort to look across at him. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that...'

  This was one of the problems with a secret affair. She hadn't actually met Steve's brother and his wife. It was more than two months since Matt and Helen had lost their baby at birth, and Candace had been feeling so ill and exhausted these past few weeks, with such a struggle to pretend that everything was normal, she hadn't considered the way the issue must resonate for him.

  It had been thoughtless of her. She was about to apologise again, but he got in first.

  'No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you.'

  'No, I want you to yell at me.' She gave a short, wry laugh. 'I deserved it. And I'm not that fragile. You can yell at me whenever you like.'

  'Let's forget it. I know you've had.. .other things to think about. Tell me what you want to do about prenatal testing.'

  He pulled an upright chair out from the table in the dining nook and sat in it with his legs straddling the seat and his forearm resting along the back. He studied her gravely, and some strands of his glinting mid-brown hair fell across his forehead.

  'It's your decision, too.' She subsided to the couch again, still needing to move cautiously to keep her stomach under control.

  He was silent, then said carefully, 'Not necessarily. Your home is in America, Candace. We can't ignore that. Realistically, this child isn't going to be nearly such a huge presence in my life as it is in yours, no matter what we decide about access and that sort of thing. We've made no commitment to each other. We've agreed on that. I can't force my feelings or my beliefs on you.'

  'No,' she agreed. 'But I still want to know what they are.'

  He nodded. 'Fair enough.' Then he spoke slowly. 'I guess...I'd feel on surer ground if we knew that there was nothing to worry about. The risk of having a Down's baby at your age is about one in 135. People bet on those odds all the time when it's something they want. A problem with the baby is something we don't want.'

  Candace nodded, then thought for a minute, aware of him watching her. His strong chin dug into his forearm and his eyes were narrowed and serious. For a man who had such a deep vein of physicality to his make-up—a man who was such an ideal candidate for a fling—Steve Colton had a considerable depth of intellect and sensitivity as well, she was starting to real
ise.

  'If Helen and Matt had had the test done,' she said finally, carefully, 'what would their decision have been?'

  'I don't know,' he answered simply. 'I don't know what my decision would be either. Maybe it'd have to happen, I'd have to be told, yes, the test has come back showing that the baby has Down's—or one of the other trisomies, which are less likely but can be even more severe in their effects—before I could be certain of what I'd want to do.'

  She sat up higher and looked at him. 'Have you been reading my mind or something?'

  'Yes, I get a bulletin over the internet every morning,' he teased. 'No, why?'

  'I—I think that's what I was going to say, only I hadn't managed to even work it out yet, 'I want the test, Steve, even if it's only in order to know more about what lies ahead.'

  Without a word, he came to the couch, sat beside her and pulled her close. He pressed his forehead against hers, and they sat like that for several minutes. Finally, he kissed her. It was sweet and slow, tender but without erotic demand. Just the kiss she needed.

  'Come and help me make pasta,' he said finally. 'What sort of sauce do you feel like?'

  'From a jar?'

  'Doesn't have to be. I'm very flexible. What do you feel like?' he asked again.

  She closed her eyes to think, trying hard to get enthusiastic about food in any form. 'Um, something simple and salty. No tomato. No meat. Or I think I'd—'

  'I know what you'd do, Candee.'

  'Sorry.' She crunched quickly on another chip.

  'Leave it to me. I'll invent something with a heavy emphasis on salt.'

  It was on the table in fifteen minutes, just a tangle of fettucini coated in bits of olive and garlic, anchovy, fresh parsley and cheese. She would have enjoyed it immensely if anything at all had tasted right at the moment.

  'So I've been thinking,' he said as they ate. 'We should go to Sydney for the test.'

  'That far?'

  'Not very many people choose a chorionic biopsy around here. People don't have testing done at all, or they go for amniocentesis, which is done at around fifteen weeks.'