The Surgeon's Love-Child

by Lilian Darcy

  Another time, she might have asked about it, but she didn't today.

  Using the image on the screen as a guide, he then carefully inserted the hollow needle. She felt pressure and pain as it passed through the firm barrier of the abdominal muscles and the uterus, then a gentle release as it reached the placenta. The needle was visible on the screen as a fine line.

  'Everything's very well positioned,' Dr Strickland said. 'The baby's well away from the needle.'

  He drew back on the syringe, extracted the cells he needed and withdrew the needle. Placing the sample in a sterile specimen container, he held it up for Candace and Steve to see. It was pinkish-yellow in colour.

  'That's a nice sample,' he said. 'We'll get an unequivocal result from it. Now, the main risk of miscarriage comes when we don't get a clean insertion of the needle and a good sample on the first try. If I'd hit the wrong spot and had to have a second or third attempt at it, I'd have been concerned. In this case, there was no problem, but you may still feel some cramping for the next twenty-four hours. Take it easy. Bed-rest would be ideal, and would give you more confidence, but it's not essential.'

  'We planned on bed-rest,' Candace said.

  'Take a few minutes here, too. You don't have to jump up. I don't need the room for a while.'

  'Actually, I do need to jump up...'

  He understood at once. 'Bathroom's just around the corner on the left.'

  'Thanks.'

  Steve was still sitting in the chair beside the patient's table in the ultrasound room when Candace returned. She entered the room on the tail end of the ultrasound technician, Jenny Sabatini, murmuring, 'Mmm...mmm,' to Steve and nodding sympathetically, with a frown tightly knitting her brows. She was a motherly type, and it sounded as if he'd been having a heart-to-heart with her.

  I wonder what he said.

  'Going to lie down again?' he asked her, taking her hand to give it a brief squeeze.

  'Five minutes. My stomach does feel sore, and I felt the uterus cramp up a bit in the bathroom.'

  She massaged the area around her navel. It was too soon to feel the baby there, but her abdomen felt different all the same. The webbing of muscle had started to loosen, ready for its imminent expansion. And there was psychology at work, too. She knew that the uterus had begun to grow, and that there was a fragile new life inside her. It very definitely felt different.

  Steve helped her back onto the table and the ultrasound technician left, on a murmured, 'Good luck, both of you.'

  'Want to lie on your side?' Steve asked.

  'Yes, please.'

  'There you go. Take as long as you like.'

  He rested his hand on her shoulder, then rubbed it back and forth, the way he might have rubbed a child's bumped knee. Candace said nothing. She felt fragile and heavy and numb.

  It wasn't real. They didn't know that there was a problem with the baby. It wasn't the same as Helen's and Matt's loss. But they knew that there might be—not just an abstract statistical possibility, but a concrete 'indication' in that thicker-than-usual skin at the back of the inch-long foetus's neck.

  The news created a kind of grieving that was as real and difficult in its way as the grieving that Helen and Matt must still be dealing with. From the beginning, this pregnancy hadn't been simple, and now it was even less so.

  I don't want you to have Down's, little baby...

  There was still the faint possibility of miscarriage. There was the agonising wait for the result of the biopsy, and the knowledge of a potential decision to be made then—a painful, huge and life-changing decision which would vitally affect several lives.

  .In my heart, the decision's made already, but I'm not kidding myself that living with it would be easy...

  There was Maddy's imminent arrival, followed in two and a half weeks by the arrival of Maddy's redoubtable grandmother.

  With all this, Candace's relationship with Steve—that sizzling, superficial 'fling', which she'd entered into with such high hopes as to its therapeutic value—seemed like it had become lost in the shuffle.

  Still lying on her side on the ultrasound table, she felt his arm slide along hers and the press of his chest against her upper back. His cheek brushed her face, still smooth from his shave this morning. It was only eleven o'clock.

  'I'm sorry,' he whispered at last. 'I'm so sorry, Candace.'

  And that was all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Maddy got off the plane on schedule at ten to seven the next morning. Her eyelids were creased from lack of sleep, but she seemed energised and excited about being there, and she was a precious and beautiful sight to Candace.

  Hugging her daughter tightly, she came out with the most hackneyed line in the world.

  'You've grown.'

  Maddy rolled her eyes beneath a mess of dark blonde hair and groaned. 'That's all you can say?'

  'For now. Give me time. I'm working on a big speech.' She turned to Maddy's heavily laden baggage cart. 'My lord, you've brought three suitcases? For four and a bit weeks?'

  Maddy shrugged and grinned, impervious to the criticism. 'Couldn't decide, so I brought everything.'

  She chattered about her luggage and the flight as they eased through the crowds towards the exit, and it was some moments before Candace managed to present Steve, who was doing a good job of hovering in the background, despite his height and strong physical presence.

  Candace was nervous about the introduction, and wished she'd actually spelled out to him in advance that she didn't want her daughter to know about their affair. Surely he would realise this without her having to put it into words?

  The problem was, there was so much else they weren't putting into words at the moment. All yesterday, her voice had been rusty with fear and unshed tears, and he had seemed so withdrawn. He'd put her to bed at their bed-and-breakfast without saying more than a few words when they got back from Royal North Shore.

  How could a man be so tender and so distant, both at the same time? He'd brought her lunch on a tray, attractively prepared and set out by the B and B's ultra-professional hosts, Kevin and Joy Bradley. Then he'd left her to rest for the whole afternoon. Hadn't said where he was going.

  Shopping, it turned out. He had brought her a gift of jewellery—an exquisite and expensive solid gold bracelet, inlaid with Australian opals that glinted with red, blue and purple fire.

  'Steve...' she'd said with tears in her eyes. The colours in the milky stones had seemed to move with the movement of her wrist as she tried it on.

  'Don't say anything. I know it's not enough. But I wanted to. Hell, I needed to!'

  She'd kept it on for the rest of the day and was wearing it again now.

  They had eaten take-away Italian food in their room and had watched the television that Joy Bradley had wheeled in during the afternoon. 'What a pity to get sick and spoil your break!' she had said.

  This morning, it had been an effort to rise, pack and leave in time to be here at the airport for Maddy's dawn arrival. Neither of them had talked much. Candace had been too busy shovelling in crackers and sipping on bottled water. She hadn't felt this queasy for days.

  I should have spelled it out to him, about us. I don't want Maddy to know.

  Why? Her instinct on this niggled at her. Is our relationship something I'm ashamed of? Surely it can't be!

  'Maddy, this is Dr Colton, who was nice enough to drive me up to meet your flight.' She avoided mentioning the fact that the drive had taken place three days ago, then remembered the evidence of two bulging overnight bags in the trunk of his car, and added, 'He...uh...showed me around Sydney, too.'

  'Hi, Dr Colton.'

  'Call me Steve.'

  'Do I get to see around Sydney as well?'

  'I'm afraid not, honey. Not this time. We have to head south.'

  Maddy shrugged. 'Maybe when we come to pick up Grammy.' She yawned. 'I guess I need to sleep, anyway.'

  She did a good bit of that on the journey south, and they didn't stop t
o eat or stretch their legs. Reaching Taylor's Beach, she was suddenly wide awake again, and open-mouthed about the location of Candace's house.

  'On the beach, Mom! That's so cool!' Then her face fell. 'Only it's winter. How can it be winter? It's so warm!'

  'People swim here all year round,' Steve offered.

  'Some people,' Candace stressed, remembering Doreen Malvern's opinion on the issue.

  'So cool!' Maddy repeated, and ran straight up the external stairs to check out the house, while Steve brought up her suitcases.

  She was out on the ocean-facing deck when he was ready to leave. Candace didn't miss his cautious look in that direction, from his position at the top of the stairs, before he brushed her arm lightly with his fingers.

  'When are we going to see each other?' he asked her quietly.

  'I...hadn't thought.'

  'She'll conk out pretty early tonight, won't she?' he pressed. 'How about if I come round?'

  'All right.'

  She didn't want to sound too eager, or let that 'number three—we have to talk' look that he teased her about appear on her face. Didn't want to scare him off. Not now. She needed him.

  'I'll see you tonight, then.'

  He craned to take another look through the open-plan living room and out to the deck, and was evidently satisfied that Maddy was still watching the ocean. His kiss came and went quickly, accompanied by the equally brief tangle of his fingers with hers.

  Candace was left fighting the need to go after him.

  Half to her surprise, she spent a great afternoon and early evening with Maddy. Her daughter was less full of teenage prickles and moods and cagey behaviour than she had been a few months earlier when Candace had left Boston. Perhaps three months of living with Brittany and Todd had made her appreciate her mother's better qualities!

  Whatever the reason for it, Candace wallowed unashamedly in the simple joy of her daughter's company. Wished it could always be like this—that they could always have a fresh appreciation of each other.

  She spoiled Maddy a little bit, too. They picked up her current food fads from the supermarket, stopped at a fashion boutique and bought her a new bikini and a wide-brimmed hat. Even Candace's comment about the bikini being the tiniest one in the store and yet the most expensive was said half in fun and earned only an unrepentant grin.

  Back home, they walked north along the beach to a little convenience store and bought huge, chocolate-coated ice creams, talking all the way.

  It was so nice, just so nice, and it brought back memories of so many other wonderful times with Maddy over the fifteen and a half years of her life that Candace found herself thinking, I'd give anything if I could have this again. If I could have another happy, healthy child...

  After a simple meal, Maddy was in bed by eight o'clock. Candace waited a discreet half-hour, and was just about to phone Steve when she heard his footsteps—she always knew which ones were his—on the stairs.

  'Maddy hasn't been in bed that long,' she warned him, jittery once more about the possibility of discovery.

  'I could check that her light was off before I came up,' Steve reassured her, 'since her room fronts the street. But why are we whispering?'

  She shrugged awkwardly. 'You know. Just in case.'

  She made tea and he switched on the television, which earned her querying look.

  'I don't like unnatural silence,' was his answer.

  'Was it unnatural?'

  'Bit.'

  'I've...uh...got a pretty big list tomorrow,' she said, sounding too bright. 'Haven't done a Wednesday, list before. What's Colin Ransome like to work with, do you know?'

  'Slow, I gather. Super-cautious. Frustrates the nurses, but you can't fault him for wanting to be a hundred per cent sure of what he's doing. I guess a couple of times he's cancelled patients from my practice when I felt he could have gone ahead in perfect safety but, hey, I was the anaesthetist who ended up with Eric Kellett nearly falling victim to malignant hyperthermia.'

  'That wasn't your fault. On what basis would Colin Ransome have decided to cancel surgery in that case? There were no indicators.' It was an effort to manufacture some energy about the issue.

  'Is this what we want to talk about?' he said, with a sudden change of tone.

  'No, of course not,' she answered. 'I was trying to deal with that unnatural silence.'

  'Yeah, OK,' he agreed. 'I'm sorry. It's probably my fault. How are you feeling?'

  'How do you think?'

  He shook his head.

  Silence. Achingly natural this time. There just wasn't anything to say. Nothing that would help.

  What would we do if... ? How would you feel if... ?

  He had to be thinking of Helen and Matt, but their situation was very different. Not necessarily easier, or harder. No one could make that kind of comparison. But different.

  They already had a commitment to each other which had stood the test of time and the births of three healthy children. They hadn't been faced with the uncertainty of waiting. They hadn't had a decision to make. They'd simply had to grieve, together.

  'Let's watch television,' Steve said finally. It was what they had both been doing, numbly, for fifteen minutes anyway.

  He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, as quiescent as a sleepy child. She tried to enjoy the simple, in-the-moment pleasure of it, the way she'd enjoyed Maddy's company today, but couldn't do it.

  'Kiss me,' he whispered after a while, and bent his face to hers before she could reply. 'Please, kiss me. I'm hungry for you, Candace. I want to drown myself in your body, and not have to think.'

  'Mmm...'

  The little sound she made against his warm mouth was kittenish and pained at the same time. If their relationship had ever been simple, it wasn't any more. Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer, seeking oblivion.

  'Oh!'

  The tiny, half-stifled cry came from a sleepy figure standing at the mouth of the short corridor which led to the two bedrooms. In a daze, Candace looked up in time to see Maddy turn on her heel and disappear, her pale, winter cotton nightdress belling around her legs. A moment later, the door of her room shut with a hollow bang.

  'Damn!' Steve said succinctly.

  'She only saw...' Candace began.

  'She saw your blouse unfastened to the waist, my hands all over the place and my eyes closed because you feel too damned good for. me to ever keep them open,' he retorted. 'That's quite a lot. You didn't want this to happen.'

  It was a statement, not a question.

  'No,' she agreed, and didn't elaborate because he seemed to understand without her explanation. 'It could have been worse. She could have seen us—'

  'She's fifteen years old, armed with sex education and an imagination. She didn't need to actually see it,' he pointed out.

  'Yes, look, I'd better—'

  'Of course.' He nodded quickly. 'Go and sort it out. Talk about it. I don't mind what you tell her now. It's your call.'

  'Thanks. I—I'll feel my way with it, I think.'

  'I'll go, then.' He eased himself from the couch, letting his fingers trail lightly down her arm. 'Let me know whether we're...off the hook, or—'

  'Off the hook?' she echoed on a taut laugh. 'You have a strange outlook at times.'

  'Do I? What other times have I—?'

  'No.' She shook her head. 'Don't take any notice, OK? It's me. My fault.'

  Suddenly, Candace couldn't wait for him to leave, and was full of remorse that she'd let him come here tonight at all. This—all of it—everything—was overwhelming at the moment, and his presence was an additional and very emotional ingredient which didn't help.

  'Just go, Steve,' she added. 'Please.'

  'Sure.' He nodded. 'Sure, Candee.'

  She was knocking on Maddy's door before he'd even reached the stairs.

  'Can I come in, honey?'

  There was no answer, but she heard movement and padding footsteps, and a moment
later the door pulled open.

  'You could have told me you were sleeping with him!' Maddy accused. Her body blocked the doorway defensively, and her voice was high and hard.

  Candace didn't bother to deny the assumption, since it was entirely correct. 'Could I? I mean, should I?'

  'Why, what was your plan? To have that happen?'

  I didn't have a plan. I should have, but I didn't. There has been too much else to think about, and I can't tell you any of it yet. Not until I know...

  'I'm sorry,' she blurted.

  'Like, that's adequate?'

  Where was the sunny, confiding friend from this afternoon? Vanished into thin air. And with some justification, perhaps.

  'No, it isn't adequate,' Candace said steadily, 'but it happens to be true. I am sorry you had to find out about Steve that way.'

  'I mean, what is it? Did it just start? You haven't mentioned him in your e-mails or your calls. Is he important, or is it just an affair? Like, a transitional relationship to get over Dad, or something? It has to be, doesn't it? I mean, he's Australian, and you don't actually live here.'

  Bombarded with every question she'd asked herself over the past few weeks, spoken in an unflagging tone of accusation, Candace's frayed nerves suddenly snapped.

  'Please, don't speak to me that way,' she said crisply.

  'Oh, I don't have the right to be told? You'd ask me some pretty pithy questions if you came across me half-naked in a guy's arms on the couch!'

  'You have a right to ask the questions,' Candace conceded, her voice still sharp with anger. 'Just not in that way. And I don't promise that I have the answers. Not all of them.'

  'So what answers do you have?'

  'Uh...' Candace's silence was a crumbling cliff-edge all around the precarious piece of high ground she had retreated to. She took a deep, jagged breath. 'It didn't just start,' she said. 'It's been happening for a while.'

  'What, you went to bed on the first date?'

  'That's enough! I'm trying to talk to you like a rational human being. At least give me the space to do it! It's been happening for a while, and I don't—I can't tell you where it's going. Maybe it is just a "transitional relationship", as you put it. I was... Well, I was devastated by the way your father handled his departure, and— Look, I still don't know if I'm thinking straight, OK?'