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

by Alison Roberts/Amy Andrews

  A second knock spurred Maggie into a sitting position. A wave of nausea flooded her and she waited a moment for it to pass. ‘Coming,’ she called. She was dressed in her usual bed attire, a pair of men’s silky boxers and a faded old singlet T that didn’t quite meet the waistband.

  She felt a fleeting sense of propriety but felt too rough around the edges to pay it much heed. Nash had seen her in a lot less. In fact, she doubted he’d ever seen her so covered up in a just-awaken state.

  Maggie wasn’t prepared when she opened the door for the impact of him. Had she forgotten in just twenty-four hours how he could reduce her to jelly? Even his bleak-looking face wasn’t enough to dampen the roar of her hormones. Had she always felt like this or was it just the knowledge that part of him was growing inside her? A purely biological connection left over from primitive man?

  ‘Hi.’ Maggie grasped the doorknob like it was her anchor as his presence threatened to suck her into an alternate universe—prehistoric and littered with clubs and caves.

  Nash curled his fingers into his palms to stop from reaching for her. She looked so damn good, her sleepy eyes and tousled hair reminding him of myriad early morning wake-ups with her snuggled close, the intoxicating smell of her, of them, rousing him to instant alertness.

  He wanted to erase the last twenty-four hours, haul her into his arms and drag her into bed, drag her under him, feel her tightness around him. He was shocked to realise he’d missed her.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Maggie stood aside and he prowled past into the lounge room. His back was to her as he stood in front of the Christmas tree. ‘I didn’t get a chance to thank you yesterday…for the tree. It’s…beautiful. I’m…touched.’

  He concentrated on a yellow light blinking merrily, gilding the nearby red tinsel. He shrugged. ‘It’s Christmas. Everyone should have a tree.’

  ‘Even if you live alone?’

  He turned to face her. ‘Especially if you live alone.’

  Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. He look tired— desperately tired—and yet he managed somehow to cut right to what was important. How could he be so profound on such little sleep? And then a thought snaked through her brain, seductive in its joy—she was never going to spend another Christmas alone.

  He turned to face her, holding up a brown paper bag. ‘I bought Danish pastries.’

  Maggie was new to this morning sickness thing but one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that her constitution was not up to handling anything so decadent.

  ‘Let’s eat on the deck,’ she murmured.

  Ten minutes later she could smell the eucalyptus and hear a kookaburra laughing in a distant tree. ‘You look tired,’ she said as he tucked into a flaky morsel.

  Nash stopped in mid-chew. ‘I didn’t really sleep yesterday.’

  Maggie sipped her tea. Neither had she. Between daydreaming about the baby and their argument replaying in her mind, sleep had been elusive. But at least she’d been able to recharge her batteries overnight. Poor Nash had had to stay awake, be alert, professional. ‘Are we still quiet?’

  Nash nodded. ‘Just the two. There was a retrieval call though, just before I left—a fourteen-year-old riding a skateboard, suspected subdural.’

  ‘No helmet?’

  Nash shot her a tired smile. ‘How’d you guess?’

  Maggie didn’t bother to answer the rhetorical question even to fill the weird silence. It was awkward between them now but no matter how much she yearned for their easy familiarity, she wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had brought them to this moment for all the money in the world.

  Nash swallowed the last of his pastry and licked his lips. He looked into her fudge-brownie eyes and drew in a steadying breath as his pulse hammered through his temples. ‘I think you should come to London with me. Let’s give this thing a go.’

  Maggie’s eyes widened and she almost dropped her hot tea in her lap. ‘What?’ she spluttered. She’d known he had something he wanted to say but this was totally out of left field.

  ‘You said it yesterday. My career path is taking me to London. It’s something I’ve worked years towards and a vital step in my plans for the flying paediatrician service. I have to go. I want to go. But I can’t just take off when I have a responsibility to you. So come to London with me.’

  Just like that? Pick up on a whim because she was his responsibility and he was lumbered with her? Because he thought they should give it a go? ‘No.’

  ‘Maggie.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, it’s London,’ he cajoled. ‘It’s magic.’

  ‘I know,’ she said frostily. ‘I’ve lived there. Back when you were in high school.’ She suppressed the urge to say ‘little boy.’

  Nash groaned. ‘Oh, Maggie, not the age thing again.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Not the age thing again. But if you think I’m going to fly to London and shack up with my toy boy who wants to give it a go just because I’m pregnant with his child, you’re nuts.’

  Nash winced. He hadn’t meant it to sound like that. So…temporary. So ill-conceived. He hadn’t meant that way at all. ‘I’m sorry. I’m saying it all wrong.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet box and put it on the table. ‘Marry me.’

  This time, Maggie plonked her mug on the table for fear that she really was going to upend its contents in her lap. She stared at the box then at him, struck dumb for a few seconds. When she did find her voice it sounded all high and breathy.

  ‘Did you just…propose to me?’

  Nash frowned. He couldn’t work out if she was happy or annoyed. Wasn’t that what women wanted? A wedding band? That’s what most women to date had wanted from him.

  Okay, it hadn’t been the most romantic of proposals but this wasn’t any ordinary situation. This was never the way or the circumstances he’d ever pictured proposing under. Not that he’d ever pictured it. Hell!

  He rubbed his forehead, blaming his tiredness. He hadn’t planned on this when he’d knocked on her door that morning. ‘Sorry, I know it wasn’t exactly hearts and flowers.’

  Maggie blinked. Now, that was the world’s biggest understatement! Had he just asked her to marry him out of some warped sense of duty? She supposed she should be admiring his strong honourable streak—there weren’t a lot of men like him around these days—but she was too stunned.

  Maggie reached for some composure amidst her galloping thoughts and thrumming pulse, ignoring the lure of the little blue box. ‘Do you love me, Nash?’

  Her quiet question took him unawares. He’d thought for a moment she was going to explode and had been bracing himself for it when her calm enquiry hit him fair in the solar plexus.

  The L word.

  He’d avoided saying it to any woman all his adult life. Not because he was afraid of it but because no one had ever claimed that sort of place in his heart and he’d always deplored men who bandied it about like it was some trivial emotion. What his parents had, his grandparents had was not remotely trivial.

  And no one had even come close. Not even a little. Until Maggie. ‘I like you. A lot. You’re like no one I’ve ever met. I love what we have. I love being with you. I love waking up next to you.’ It was as honest as he could be right now.

  Maggie nodded slowly. Even if she hadn’t been able to read the unspoken but, his stricken face gave it away.

  But. I don’t love you.

  Her chest grew tighter and tighter and it took a moment to figure out she’d been holding her breath. Oh, God! She sucked in air, her gasping alveoli filling with a much-needed rush of oxygen as her brain staggered under the weight of her sudden realisation.

  She loved him.

  How? How had this happened? When? But even as she asked herself, she knew the answer. The day he’d decorated a serving tray with frangipani blossom from her garden because he’d known after an ugly night shift how much she’d needed to see a little beauty. And every little roman
tic gesture since that had made their time together so special.

  How could she have spent all this time pretending that their relationship had been purely physical? That she could spend three months in his arms and be able to wave him off in January like nothing had ever happened. What a farce!

  Even just looking at him now, with weariness etched into the furrows on his forehead and the crinkles around his eyes, she loved him so much she felt like she was going to burst with it.

  She placed a hand on her belly, another realisation hitting home. She wasn’t just carrying Nash’s child. Not any more. She was pregnant by the man she loved. Their baby had been conceived out of love.

  The desire to give way to full-blown panic blossomed. But amidst the ringing bells and clanging clocks echoing in her head a part of her knew that to betray her inner turmoil would be stupid. That she loved him was immaterial, that she wanted what was in that box didn’t matter, when he obviously didn’t feel the same way.

  ‘Look, Nash, I understand that you have strong feelings about responsibility and duty. I mean, you’re fulfilling a childhood promise to your sister so I get it that you’re a man of honour.’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘But let’s not compound this issue by doing something rash like marrying for all the wrong reasons. I already have one divorce to my name.’

  She was proud of how calm she sounded. How rational. And she didn’t miss the slight sag to Nash’s shoulders either.

  ‘I’m not going to shirk this,’ Nash said.

  Maggie shivered at the steel in his voice and wished with all her heart that his insistence came out of love instead of honour. She wasn’t prepared to disrupt her life and pine away in a loveless partnership on the other side of the world with a man who’d only married her out of duty. But she knew she’d follow him to Antarctica if he just said the three magic words.

  She shrugged. ‘So send money.’

  Nash stilled as she presented him with the perfect solution. Support Maggie and the baby financially here in Australia while fulfilling his own dreams on the other side of the world. But even as his head turned it over, his heart rejected it outright. Whether he liked it or not, he’d helped form a new life. And already he was thinking of it as flesh and blood instead of a contraception failure. As his baby. Didn’t every child deserve to have two parents?

  Okay, he might only be away for a couple of years but did he want to miss out on such a vital, formative time in his child’s life? ‘I want to teach my kid how to kick a ball.’

  Despite her resolve, Maggie was assailed with images of Nash standing behind a little blue-eyed blond demonstrating the perfect technique with a footy.

  And I want you to love me.

  Maggie’s heart knew there were just some things you couldn’t have. ‘Commute.’

  Nash gave her an exasperated look. See his kid once every few months? No. ‘Fine…’ He rubbed his eyes as all his dreams, his promises, crumpled before him. ‘I’ll stay.’

  Maggie shook her head vigorously. ‘No. Oh, no,’ she rejected vehemently. ‘I’m not having you blame me, or the baby, in years to come because you didn’t get your time at Great Ormond Street.’

  Nash reached across the table and grasped her hands, brushing a thumb back and forth over the prominent veins in the back of her hand. ‘So come with me. Let’s see how things pan out.’

  Maggie fought against the pull of him that she felt at a visceral level, in every pulse stroke, every cell. But where would she be if they didn’t pan out? No. Maturity had its advantages and she’d be a fool to ignore her fundamental needs. That was for the young.

  She wasn’t prepared to go with him for anything less than love. The fact that he didn’t love her, that he would never love her, twisted like a knife. She pulled her hands from his. ‘No.’

  Nash stared at her resolute gaze. ‘So what now?’

  She pushed the box towards him with one finger, like it was full of red-back spiders. She didn’t want a duty ring from him. ‘You go home to bed and we talk another time.’

  Nash nodded. He didn’t want to go home. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping with her and hated going back to his Maggie-less apartment.

  He picked up the box, pocketed it and stood. ‘Okay. But this isn’t over, Maggie May.’ He moved towards her and crouched beside her chair, placing his hand over hers, hands that seemed to almost permanently cradle her belly these days. He threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Not by a long shot.’

  And then he stood again and turned away, once again leaving with things unresolved. But one thing he knew for sure—as messed up as it was, she was carrying his baby, his baby, and he would take care of his child.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS HARD getting out of bed at three a.m. under the best of circumstances and Maggie knew in a few short months she was going to have to get used to it, but when you were exhausted and morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance, it was that much harder. But she was on retrieval call and a four-year-old child in Rockhampton with epiglottitis needed intensive care.

  So she dragged herself out of bed, threw up in the toilet, brushed her teeth, donned some jeans and a T-shirt, pulled a comb through her hair and drove to the hospital.

  ‘Hell, Maggie, you look awful!’ Linda exclaimed as Maggie entered the unit.

  ‘It’s three in the morning,’ she grouched. The festive decorations failed to distract her precarious constitution or her mood.

  Linda gave her a this-is-my-third-night-I-have-six-kids-and-I’m-almost-a-decade-older-than-you look but wisely commented no further about Maggie’s early morning roughness. ‘Nash is already here,’she announced.

  Maggie almost threw up on the spot again. Oh, God, not Nash. Please, not Nash. ‘Great,’ she muttered under her breath as she walked to the retrieval room where all the equipment was stored.

  Nash had already started loading what they needed into a large trolley, which would accompany them to the airport. His broad back was facing her and her gaze was automatically drawn to the way his retrieval shirt pulled across the width of his shoulders and how his Levi’s lovingly hugged the contours of his butt.

  A rush of love welled in her chest, stirring her nausea, and she took a deep, cleansing breath. ‘Hi.’

  Nash turned at the sound of her voice, the neutral greeting he’d been practising since he’d learned they’d be going out together tonight dying on his lips. It had been four days since he’d seen her and she looked like hell. He took a step towards her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Maggie gave him an exasperated look. ‘It’s three a.m.,’ she said, wishing she’d taken the time to slap on some make-up.

  Couldn’t a girl look a little rough around the edges after a rude early morning wakening? How the hell he managed to look so good she’d never know. Her heart was doing a crazy love-sick dance just looking at him.

  Nash’s heart thudded in his chest. He’d seen her early in the morning both at work and at play so he knew it wasn’t that. ‘Is everything okay with…the baby?’

  Maggie glared at him, taking a quick look behind her to see if anyone had overheard. ‘Baby’s doing just fine,’ she said tersely.

  She, on the other hand, was not. Another wave of nausea hit her and Maggie prayed for a smooth flight.

  ‘Maybe Linda should call someone else in?’ Nash suggested.

  ‘There isn’t anyone else,’ she replied irritably. ‘I’m it.’

  Maggie had no idea how long her morning sickness was going to last but knew she couldn’t afford excessive time off work now she was looking down the barrel of single motherhood. Like a million other women before her, she knew she just had to push through.

  ‘Have you had something to eat?’ Nash asked, not liking how peaky she was looking.

  Maggie placed a hand across her mouth, her stomach revolting at the thought. It gave a funny lurch that, for once, had nothing to do with him. ‘Not a good idea right now.’

  ‘It might help.’

 
; She shook her head. At the moment nothing seemed to help. Sleep was the only relief she got. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’ Then she could lose herself in the blissfully nausea-free world of slumber.

  ‘You okay to keep doing this while I change?’ she asked.

  Nash lifted a navy pack. ‘Sure. Almost done.’

  They were loaded into a taxi ten minutes later. Maggie tried not to think about what had happened the last time they’d been in a taxi together but it was kind of like not mentioning the elephant in the room. It was there and at least it gave her something else to concentrate on other than her stomach. She wondered if he was thinking about it too.

  Thankfully at this early hour traffic was non-existent and they were at the airport in fifteen minutes. Another fifteen minutes saw them airborne.

  The noise in the little fixed-wing plane made conversation impossible for which Maggie was glad. Being buckled in next to Nash in the cramped confines was bad enough. She shut her eyes, trying to doze off for the paltry hour and a bit it would take to get to their destination. Trying to cut off the nausea.

  Nash inspected her face, her black lashes throwing shadows on her cheekbones. She looked exhausted, her creamy complexion wan, her cheekbones a little more prominent. The pregnancy was obviously already taking its toll on her.

  ‘Here,’ he said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the engines as he nudged her arm.

  Maggie opened her eyes reluctantly, to find Nash holding up a stick of chewing gum. Before she even knew what she was doing she was reaching for it. Something sweet that wouldn’t sit in her belly like a rock.

  A lifesaver!

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, ripping off the wrapper and stuffing it in her mouth before closing her eyes again.

  Nash blinked as it disappeared in a few seconds flat. He made a mental note to always have a packet on him. And then he sobered when he remembered that he was only here for a few more weeks.

  He’d been thinking a lot the last few days and wasn’t any closer to a solution. But maybe if they actually talked about it. Rationally. They did have an hour.