Her Baby Out of the Blue/A Doctor, A Nurse: A Christmas Baby

by Alison Roberts/Amy Andrews

  He had taken off his T-shirt and his chest was bare. The way it had been that first morning, in her apartment. When Jane had been disturbingly aware of what she now recognised as the stirring of an attraction that was far too powerful to resist.

  And, as if that wasn’t enough, Dylan was smiling. That amazing smile that made her feel so special.

  So safe.

  ‘Now,’ he said, so softly his words caressed her skin, ‘where were we?’

  This was the real Jane Walters.

  A very beautiful woman who was far more vulnerable than she would ever want to admit.

  He’d seen right into her soul in the last twenty-four hours. That look on her face last night when Sophie had smiled at her!

  At me, she’d said. As though nobody ever gave a smile purely due to the delight of seeing her.

  And this morning, when she’d been holding Sophie and feeding her, he’d seen the softness. The ability to love.

  Tonight he’d felt it himself. Had felt it and tasted it and buried himself in it, and he knew that nobody would ever be able to give him what Jane was capable of giving him.

  But he had to tread carefully. To treat winning her heart with the same care he might use to coax a wild deer to come closer. The way he had encouraged her to talk to him last week. Jane was vulnerable because she needed something in her life she’d never had enough of so she’d never learned to trust it. Instead, she’d learned to shut it out. To convince herself she didn’t want it.

  It was something Dylan could give her enough of.

  Love.

  He kissed her again now, as tenderly as he knew how to, and she gave a soft sigh in her sleep and curled more closely against him. Skin to skin. As they had been for many hours now.

  Who would have thought that Dr Walters—the ice queen—eminent specialist in complete control of her career and lifestyle could be capable of such passion?

  Of responding to even a whisper of a touch but just as easily matching the greedy movements of an almost desperate need?

  She was perfect.

  Was he being unfair, trapping her into marriage like this? No. He had to drive this forward. If he allowed her too much time to think and consider the implications, she might take fright at what could lie ahead and decide it was safer to remove herself from his life entirely.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He’d come here to find Sophie’s genetic mother. He might have found something entirely unexpected in Jane, but Dylan knew with absolute certainty it was something he was never likely to find again. It was unique. Precious. Definitely worth fighting for.

  Jane was afraid because she didn’t think she could make a success of this new challenge life had presented. She didn’t know how because she’d never been set any kind of example, except maybe from her grandmother whom she’d only seen for holidays. That made any kind of family a temporary thing. Something to visit but not a part of daily life. The most important part.

  Dylan could change that. He could show her what it really meant to be part of a family. To love and be loved. They would all benefit from that. He would. And so would Sophie and Jane. Maybe Jane most of all. She deserved to. It was because of Jane that Sophie existed at all, and while it hadn’t been intentional and perhaps Dylan wouldn’t have considered settling down and raising a family any more than Jane had, Sophie was already the most precious thing he’d ever had in his life.

  Jane was rapidly moving close to being the second most precious thing and, if they could build on what had happened this weekend, it was highly likely that the two females now in his life would hold a place of equal importance in his heart.

  Not that he could let Jane know that.

  He could show it, maybe, by loving her with his body the way he had last night, but Dylan knew instinctively that to speak any words of love would have doors slammed in his face.

  Jane had been hurt before. Too many times to count, probably, by her parents’ lack of interest. She hadn’t found any man she was prepared to commit to, either. It was too soon to hope that she could trust anything he might say. He needed more time. They needed more time.

  What better way to ensure they got all the time they could possibly need than by making this a permanent arrangement? It was inspired.

  Sophie woke up as the first light began to chase darkness from beneath the eaves of the cottage. Instead of making the interested cooing sounds with which she had begun to greet a new day, her cry demanded instant attention.

  With a sigh, and a soft kiss on Jane’s bare shoulder, Dylan eased himself from the bed and went to tend to the baby.

  Jane came down to the kitchen a little while later. She frowned at Sophie.

  ‘She doesn’t sound very happy.’

  ‘No.’ Dylan jiggled the howling bundle in his arms. ‘She didn’t seem very interested in her breakfast, either.’ He watched Jane as she held the kettle under the tap to fill it with water. ‘How ‘bout you, hinny?’ he asked in a brief lull between the wails. ‘Are you happy?’

  The glance he received acknowledged their night together. Her smile let him know he had made her very happy. But she looked tired and the frown hadn’t gone away. She looked as though her thoughts were occupied by more than the steps it would take to make coffee.

  ‘The shuttle leaves at 10 a.m.,’ she told Dylan, raising her voice so she could be heard over Sophie. ‘I’ll get sorted after breakfast and get you to drop me at the bus stop if that’s OK.’

  ‘Why don’t I drive you back to the city?’ he suggested. ‘I could come back again this afternoon and a drive might be just the ticket to get this wee lassie settled.’

  The baby was still fretful by the time Jane was ready to leave, and she found herself sympathising with Sophie’s low-level misery.

  She was feeling a bit like that herself.

  Like she didn’t want to go back to the city. To her job and apartment and reality because Dylan didn’t belong in that reality.

  All the reasons why a relationship with someone like him would undermine the esteem with which her colleagues regarded her would be obvious again. She couldn’t hope to keep the proposed marriage a secret any more than the astounding news of her instant motherhood, and Jane dreaded the exposure.

  She dreaded the notion of losing Dylan and Sophie even more, however. Maybe Dylan McKenzie, male nurse and ex-gypsy, was nothing like what she would have considered as husband material, but the last two days had shown her he was everything she could possibly have wished for. She hadn’t known what she wanted—needed—until it had arrived in her life.

  There were still a frightening number of problems but the best thing seemed to be to tackle them one by one.

  The first problem appeared before they’d even left the cottage.

  ‘Do you think she feels hot?’ Dylan asked.

  Jane threw her bag into the back of the vehicle and then moved to reach into the back seat and put her hand on Sophie’s forehead.

  ‘She’s warm, certainly, but I don’t think she’s running a temperature.’

  ‘She’s very red.’

  ‘She’s been crying on and off for quite a while. Did she have any of that last bottle?’

  ‘Aye. Maybe half of it.’ But Dylan didn’t look happy.

  ‘She’s well covered up and it’s not a cold day. Why don’t you take some layers off while I lock up? I’ll drive, if you like, so you can keep an eye on her.’

  The rumble of the engine and the movement of the car soothed Sophie to sleep not long after they left the township. Dylan gave an occasional anxious glance over his shoulder to the car seat in the back, but finally seemed to relax.

  Jane wished she could.

  ‘Do you really think we could make this marriage idea work?’ she asked finally, as they toiled through the bends of the steepest hill.

  ‘We’ll find a way.’

  ‘How?’ Jane had been trying unsuccessfully to think of a solution to the most pressing issue. ‘I can’t give
up my work.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. Your job is an important part of who you are, Jane.’

  It was all she’d been until Dylan and Sophie had changed her life. Had it only been just over a week ago? So much had changed. Way too much to go back and have things the same as they were. A week ago that was all Jane might have wished for and now it was the last thing she wanted.

  ‘You do want to settle here.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘In Akaroa, I mean.’

  ‘Aye. I meant that too.’

  ‘You’d be happy, wouldn’t you? Working in that little hospital and living in that small cottage?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Jane sighed, changing gear to negotiate a particularly sharp bend on their way downhill. ‘I work in the city, Dylan. In a big hospital that has a specialised paediatric department. Commuting for ninety minutes, twice a day, on a road like this, is not an option.’

  ‘You can come at the weekends, yes?’

  They would be leaving the hills behind them soon. Getting closer to the city. Jane could feel reality reaching out with a chilling touch.

  ‘I do a ward round most Saturday mornings. I’m on call every third weekend. Actually, I’m on call all the time, because I’ve made it clear that I want to be contacted if any of my patients are in trouble.’

  Dylan said nothing.

  ‘If I’m only visiting occasionally, it’ll cause the same problems that would happen if you were living in a separate house. Eventually, the immigration authorities would become aware of it. They’d be quite within their rights to say that it was simply a marriage of convenience for the sake of you gaining residency.’

  ‘But Sophie would be all right, yes? As your daughter, she’s automatically a citizen of New Zealand, isn’t she?’

  ‘She was born in the UK.’ Jane shook her head with a sigh. ‘It’s a legal minefield. I suppose it’ll be all right as there are no other parties laying any claim to the right of raising Sophie but even so, I think I should contact my solicitor this week. What if, a couple of years down the track, you get sent home and they don’t allow you to take Sophie out of the country? What then?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go,’ Dylan said calmly. ‘End of story.’

  ‘They could make you.’

  ‘There’s no point in creating problems that aren’t there yet, Jane.’

  They might not be there yet but they weren’t far away.

  Dylan and Sophie would have to live in the city. In her apartment? Hardly. Jane would have to factor in house-hunting to her schedule, along with a wedding and, presumably, immigration arrangements for Dylan’s father.

  The house would need some kind of a garden. Proximity to a school. They’d be able to go to the cottage for some weekends, of course, but would that be enough for Dylan, when he’d fallen in love with Akaroa as a place to live and its miniature hospital as a place to work?

  Thoughts tumbled and whirled. Jane hardly noticed the frequency with which Dylan was turning to check on their small passenger in the back seat. Until…

  ‘Pull over!’ The instruction was terse.

  ‘Why?’ Jane flicked him a glance but Dylan was staring into the back of the vehicle.

  ‘Just do it. Now!’

  Jane put her foot on the brake and indicated that she was pulling off the road. An angry toot from a following car told her she hadn’t been clear enough about her intended action but Dylan’s tone had an undercurrent she had heard often enough in her medical career.

  Controlled fear.

  The tyres skidded a little in the loose gravel on the side of the road and then bumped over grass. Jane brought the vehicle to a standstill, took it out of gear and turned off the ignition.

  Dylan was halfway out of the car by the time she’d pulled on the handbrake. He was wrenching open the back door to reach Sophie as Jane turned her head.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she whispered.

  The baby was jerking uncontrollably. Her eyes were half-open and rolled back so that only the whites were showing. Worse still, her lips were turning a nasty shade of blue.

  Jane fumbled with the catch of her seat belt. Dylan had unhooked the car seat by the time she got out. He was undoing the safety belt that held Sophie in the seat as she arrived on his side.

  ‘She’s burning up!’

  ‘It’s most likely to be a febrile seizure,’ Jane said, touching Sophie’s skin. ‘Take her stretch suit off. I’ve got a bottle of water. We’ll sponge her. We need some paracetamol. Or ibuprofen.’

  ‘Isn’t she a bit young for a febrile seizure?’ Dylan’s fingers were struggling with the snap fasteners on the front of Sophie’s little pink suit—a task he normally managed with surprising ease.

  ‘Here, I’ll do that.’ Jane slipped her hands beneath his. ‘Normal age range is three to eighteen months but it seems the most likely cause. Unless…’ Jane pulled the small limbs from inside the stretch suit. ‘She hasn’t been stung by anything, has she? A bee or something?’

  ‘Anaphylaxis?’ Dylan’s face was so pale it looked like he hadn’t shaved this morning. ‘No. I’m sure I would have noticed. She hasn’t been in the garden today.’

  ‘She’s breathing again,’ Jane noted in relief. ‘Her colour’s getting better. Get the water, Dylan. The bottle’s in the compartment between the front seats.’

  The convulsion had stopped completely by the time Jane had peeled off Sophie’s singlet. No sign of a rash that could indicate they might be dealing with meningitis, thank goodness. Her breathing seemed fine and the awful blue tinge had gone from her mouth. Jane strapped her back in her seat.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Dylan demanded.

  ‘We have to get her to hospital,’ Jane snapped. ‘You can sponge her while we get going.’

  A minute later they were on the road again. Dylan was in the back seat beside Sophie, sponging her gently with a wad of tissues he dampened with the drink bottle. He was ready to keep her airway open if she had another seizure.

  Jane gripped the steering-wheel so hard her fingers hurt.

  She had her foot flat to the floor, ignoring the speed limit on the long, straight stretches when it was safe to do so. If she got chased by traffic police, she would just tell them this was an emergency. That they didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance.

  It was no use telling herself what she would tell any other parent in this situation. That febrile convulsions were scary but quite common and almost always harmless. What if this wasn’t simply due to a high fever? What if it was something like encephalitis? The result of birth trauma she knew nothing about? Or a brain tumour? Or something else that would put Sophie’s life in danger?

  Sophie.

  Her daughter!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘SOPHIE WALTERS?’ The emergency department consultant flicked Jane a sharp glance.

  ‘My daughter,’ Jane said.

  Dylan was aware of something changing. He could feel it, inside his chest, as he stood by the bed holding Sophie, in the resuscitation area they’d been rushed into. The dreadful fear that was consuming him was still there, but Jane’s words were having a curious effect. As though she’d thrown a verbal net over his fear. Giving it a limit.

  She had claimed her daughter.

  She might seem in control here, in the familiar environment in which he’d first seen her, but she was as white as a sheet and her eyes showed the same kind of fear that Dylan was experiencing.

  ‘She’s just had the single seizure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long did it last?’

  ‘Less than five minutes.’

  ‘Put her down on the bed,’ the consultant instructed Dylan. ‘Let’s get a temperature, stat,’ he directed the nurse, who had just spread a clean sheet onto the bed.

  Dylan caught Jane’s gaze as he laid Sophie on the bed. He couldn’t smile but he could try and give her what she had just given him.

  An ally.

  They were in this toget
her. As Sophie’s parents.

  The nurse gently fitted the earpiece of the tympanic thermometer into Sophie’s tiny shell of an ear. Dylan held her steady.

  ‘It’s all right, hinny,’ he said softly. ‘You’re safe.’

  ‘Temperature’s 40.3,’ the nurse reported.

  ‘Breath sounds are equal. Chest’s clear.’ The consultant lifted the disc of his stethoscope from Sophie’s chest. ‘Can we get that nappy off, too, please? I’d like to check her skin properly.’

  Another doctor entered the room.

  ‘Ah, Liz,’ the consultant greeted her. ‘Just the person.’ He turned to Jane. ‘You’ll remember Liz? She would have still been in the paediatric surgical department when you started here.’

  Jane nodded. ‘You went to the States, yes?’

  The red-headed woman, probably in her late thirties, returned the nod. ‘And I see you’ve followed my example and become a mother?’

  ‘Um…yes.’

  Liz raised an eyebrow but her attention was already too focused on Sophie to query the hesitant response.

  ‘Normal pregnancy and birth?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dylan put in.

  ‘You’re Sophie’s father?’

  ‘No. I’m her uncle. But I heard a lot about the pregnancy and birth.’

  Liz exchanged a glance with the consultant and then looked back at Jane. ‘Is Sophie adopted?’

  ‘Not exactly. Genetically, she’s my daughter.’

  ‘Surrogacy?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  Liz gave up for the moment, busy examining Sophie who was crying miserably. ‘Has she been unwell in the last few days?’

  ‘Only this morning,’ Dylan responded. ‘She seemed out of sorts. Off her food and crying more than usual.’

  ‘Running a fever?’

  ‘She felt warm, but nothing like she does now.’

  ‘Let’s weigh her, please,’ Liz said to the nurse. ‘And we’ll get some ibuprofen on board. Ten milligrams per kilogram of weight.’

  When the nurse had administered the liquid medication by slipping a small syringe into Sophie’s mouth, Liz shone a torch into the baby’s eyes and then turned her to check the skin on her back.