She could feel a smile inside growing with his determination to get her to change her mind. He was like a stubborn little boy who wanted to play.
‘Luckily, I’m not responsible for any of those things, but thanks for the offer.’
She could see that had not been the response he wanted. In fact, he’d crashed and burned, and she watched him assimilate that.
Safety sucked but she needed to stick to her guns.
‘The last thing I want is to be a nuisance.’
‘As if you could.’
He shrugged easily. ‘No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He picked up his board and turned back to the sea.
She couldn’t believe she’d given the most gorgeous guy she knew the brush-off. But it had been the right thing to do. Depressed, she picked up the blower and her back reminded her it was heavy.
Maybe she should have taken up his offer. She flicked a wistful glance his way but she could see his strong thighs as he strode towards the water and the bulge in his biceps as he carried the board back towards the waves. It was too late. It was actually hard, watching him walk away.
Unexpectedly she felt a strange cramp low at the front of her abdomen and her annoying backache took on a more sinister significance. What if it wasn’t just the heaviness of the leaf blower?
Then she realised her babies hadn’t moved much that morning, and a deep unease expanded in her chest.
When the cramp came back, this time intensified into a painful drag in her belly, she had to drop the blower and clutch at the fence.
‘Nick,’ she said in a small scared little voice. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t hear because he was almost into the waves. She edged towards the gate and opened it as if her voice would carry further. She just needed the pain to stop so she could call out.
To Lucy’s intense relief, before he climbed onto his board, Nick looked back and waved. She waved, signalled him back, a little frantically, and he stopped.
Stared at her.
She saw him tilt his head as if wondering if he’d misunderstood. The pain came again and she put both hands on the fence.
When she looked up Nick was through the gate and beside her. His board was halfway up the sand where he’d dropped it. All she could think was how good it was he’d come back.
The concern in his voice made her eyes sting. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Her voice cracked.
Nick saw the tears at the corners of her eyes. What was this all about? Somewhere inside a voice mocked him, told him to watch out, and he panicked that she was getting needy for him. He did not do needy.
Then she said the unexpected. ‘I’ve had a few cramps in my back this morning and thought it was because I was carrying the blower. But now they’ve moved to the front.’ Big worry-flecked eyes searched his face for reassurance.
What?
All thoughts of himself disappeared.
She chewed her lip. ‘I’m scared it’s the babies.’
His mind went blank except for the big words, ‘miscarriage’, ‘prem labour’, and they were suddenly unpalatable thoughts. She’d be twenty-two weeks.
That was too early for the babies to have a fighting chance. He didn’t ask himself how it was he knew exactly how far along she was. But instinctively he stepped in, gathered her against him and his arms went around her.
Surprisingly she fitted into his body like a jigsaw piece he’d always been missing and he soaked in the warmth of her as if he’d been chilled.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured into her hair as he breathed in the scent of herbs and spring and Lucy.
He squeezed her gently. His hand came up and smoothed her hair and he suddenly connected with what he was doing and his relationship force field snapped back into place. He did not do emotional.
He loosened his arms. Stepped back.
Steered her to the wrought-iron seat while his mind beat him up with reminders not to get involved.
‘Sit. Take it easy. It might be nothing.’ He hoped it was nothing.
He hadn’t picked the amount of investment he had in these babies already. He needed to snap out of that and get back to the person with the medical degree. ‘Have you had any bleeding?’
‘Not that I know of.’ She’d wrapped her arms around her lower belly, protecting her children, and it did strange things to his chest to see her so panicked.
Distress vibrated off her in bigger waves than those in the nearby ocean.
She sat as directed, as if it would all be all right if she did everything she was told, as if he held her fate in his hands. No pressure. Not.
‘Okay. No bleeding. That’s good. It might have just been a warning sign for you to take it a little easier. Have you any pain now?’
She shook her head and her hair fell into her eyes. He resisted the urge to brush it back.
‘Just a tiny ache in my back.’
Her back. Still suspicious. ‘Is it coming and going or there all the time?’
‘There all the time.’
Best of the bad. ‘Again, that’s good. Maybe you have a low-grade kidney infection. Very common with pregnant women and a big player in causing premature labour.’
He saw her wince when he said it but she needed to know he wasn’t joking. Maybe he should have tested her again for infections, even though she’d said she was fine.
There was that raised white cell count. He didn’t stop to ask why he was beating himself up about something he would have done for anyone else. But this was Lucy.
Lucy was in shock. From two things—the stark terror of risk to her babies and the absolute comfort she’d gained from being wrapped up in Nick’s arms. All that salty skin and muscle around her had felt like a shield from the world.
As if nothing in the universe could go wrong as long as she was snuggled into his arms. So it had been a nasty reality when he’d disentangled himself and sat her away from him.
Now he expected her to take in what he was saying when her mind felt like she was inside a big ball of cotton wool and danger was waiting if she peeked out.
‘Sorry?’ She concentrated and the cotton wool thinned a little. ‘Kidney infection?’
Yep, maybe. She had been dashing for the ladies more often this week. She should have picked that up. They could fix that. Everything would be okay if she took it easy until antibiotics sorted that irritation.
Maybe she’d take Monday off. Thank goodness she’d told Flora May about the pregnancy. And Nick could take her aside and explain as well. Or was that presuming too much?
He glanced up towards the house. ‘You go to bed. I’ll write you a script. In fact, I’ll get the antibiotics from the chemist for you. We’ll get a sample from you before you take your first dose so we can make sure we’ve targeted the right bug.’
Lucy listened to him laying out the strategy and she couldn’t help thanking whatever lucky stars had directed Nick to paddle past her door today. She had no idea what she would have done if he hadn’t been around. And she’d sent him away.
‘I’ll get my sister to bring a sterile container from work for the specimen. She’s at work this morning and she won’t mind dropping in.’
Lucy’s stomach sank. She hadn’t met Nick’s sister. What would she think about a pregnant junior midwife latching onto her brother and asking for family favours?
Cringe factor of ten. ‘It’s okay. I can get one of the girls from work to do that.’
Nick shook his head decisively. Not the easygoing Nick, this was the consultant—Dr Kefes, Nick. ‘Too much organising when you’re going to bed to rest. I’ll sort this.’ He looked past her. ‘Where’s your place?’
‘Down behind the pool.’
‘Do you want me to carry you?’
Oh, my word, she could picture it. Feel his arms
. ‘No. I’ll be fine.’
‘You sure?’
Sob. ‘Yep, sure.’ She stood up and the pain was there at the back but the front was okay at the moment.
Nick followed her closely along the narrow path, as if she was going to faint or something.
Halfway down the path the contraction pain came again and this time she really got scared. She stopped and swayed and then his arms came around her gently and he pulled her back against his chest.
‘I’ve got you.’
Then he lifted her—like she wasn’t a tall girl with two passengers, but a tiny wisp of nothing—and cradled her against his chest, but sadly she was too focused on the grinding ache low in her belly to enjoy the ride.
CHAPTER FIVE
NICK PUSHED OPEN the screen with his shoulder and angled Lucy through the door still in his arms. She pointed to her little room that had come furnished, all designer white cane furniture with hibiscus quilt and pillow covers and Hawaiian surf photos, and he carried her through.
When he put her down, tears threatened and stung her eyes but she was darned if she was going to let them fall—while he was here anyway. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ He glanced around. ‘Much more of this and I’ll admit you to the hospital.’
Too real and scary. ‘Seriously. It’s gone now.’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘So that pain was in the front?’
‘Yep.’ She looked at him, dwarfing her little room, so out of place amongst the white doilies and spindly cane. ‘But I’ll rest.’
‘I’ll go to the chemist.’ He glanced at his watch. Calculating which chemist would be open probably. ‘But I’ll have to go home first. Is it okay if I go out the road entrance?’ He was so full of purpose. She wasn’t used to people taking control. Being a back-up for her. It felt dangerously good, and she needed to snap out of it.
‘Sure. The gate will lock behind you.’ She reached onto her bedside table and gave him her keys. ‘Use these to get back in. The blue key is for the gate.’ She consoled herself that he wouldn’t listen anyway if she said she’d be fine on her own.
He glanced back into the other room—lounge, kitchen, dining all in one—and focused on the fridge. ‘You look like the kind of girl who keeps bottles of water in the fridge.’
He crossed the room in a few steps and peered into the refrigerator. ‘Knew it.’ She had to smile as he grabbed a pink plastic drink bottle, picked up her mobile phone from the table, and put them beside her bed.
He pointed his finger at her. ‘Stay!’
She sank back on the pillows and to be honest it felt good not to be standing up. ‘Yes, sir.’ Yes, sir?
He raised his brows. ‘Now she gets cheeky. Ring me if you need me.’
‘Thanks, Nick.’ He was such a hero. But not her hero. The tears got closer.
His face softened and she needed him to go. Now. ‘Thank me later,’ he said, and left.
* * *
Nick frowned at himself as he trod back to the beach entrance, hopped down onto the sand and picked up his paddleboard and paddle. As he locked the gate and retraced his steps past her little bungalow he berated himself. Thank me later? What was that? Asking for a what? A kiss? Get a grip.
The driveway gate clanged shut behind him as he set off along the road for his flat. The board and paddle were bulky and a nuisance under his arm. The path was hot under his bare feet and her keys felt strange in his other hand.
He was getting way too involved here. If he wasn’t careful there’d be emotion involved and he didn’t want to go there. He knew where that led. To people being able to stamp on you when you were at your weakest. No way was he going there. But what could he do? She didn’t seem to have a friend in the world. He was here. What else could he do? He’d ring Chloe when he got home.
Chloe wasn’t as supportive as he’d hoped she’d be. His sister didn’t take it lightly. ‘So she’s a patient?’
What was with the suspicion? ‘Yeah. But she’s a friend. A colleague.’
There was a definite worried tinge in her voice. What was with that? ‘She’s your patient, though. You’re caring for her during her pregnancy?’
He’d already answered that. ‘Yes. She’s a midwife on the ward.’
He could hear the frown in her voice. ‘It’s not like you to become involved. Be careful, Nick.’
Nick lifted the phone away from his ear. He did not want to hear this. He put it back. ‘Hell, Chloe. Just get me the container and drop it off here when you come home.’
There was a pause. Then, ‘I finish work in twenty minutes.’
‘Thank you.’ He disconnected and threw the phone on the bed. Stripped off his board shorts and trod across to the shower.
Sisters. When had he ever tried to tell her what to do? He paused with his hand on the tap.
Maybe a couple of times, or more if he was being honest, but that didn’t give her the right to go jumping to conclusions about him and Lucy.
He turned the cold tap on with controlled force and stepped underneath the spray. Sucked his breath in and forced himself to stand there.
Not that he needed to have a cold shower because he was thinking about Lucy, but it was hot outside. And he wanted to get back to her as soon as he could. He hoped she wasn’t going to miscarry her babies.
He’d been going to wait for Chloe to come first before heading out to the chemist’s but if he got a wriggle on he reckoned he could get there and back before she finished work. Then he could go straight to Lucy’s.
He hoped to hell she didn’t get stronger contractions. As long as she didn’t bleed it looked okay. Antibiotics should take care of the irritation and with a little rest she’d be fine. Her babies would be fine.
He’d see if he could do something practical in the yard for her or she’d be lying there worrying that the house wasn’t perfect for the owners. No. She didn’t want help. She was too independent.
He turned the water off and grabbed the towel. Dried himself quickly and dragged on underwear, some shorts and a shirt.
Lucy’s crisis had taken over his day and he didn’t stop to think why this threatened miscarriage was any different from the dozens he’d dealt with in the past.
During his time when he’d mostly concentrated on IVF, dealing with bereaved parents had been a part of almost every day, and his own sadness had been one of the reasons he didn’t do as much of that these days. But this was different.
He grabbed his wallet and keys and a script pad and pen. It would be fine. He could deal with this.
* * *
Back at her house Lucy told herself she was starting to feel better.
What more could she ask for? If she’d gone into the emergency department there was nothing they could do for her except what Nick was doing. And that would be after a long wait in the waiting room.
She was only just pregnant enough for it to be noticeable in the obstetric ward. They probably wouldn’t even have done an ultrasound unless she bled.
That had been the first thing she’d done when Nick had left. She’d jumped up and checked she wasn’t bleeding. The relief that she wasn’t had been immeasurable.
So if she’d gone to the hospital all anyone could have done would have been to check for an infection that could be irritating her body into contractions, treat any infection that was there, and send her home to rest. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she progressed into full premature labour.
It would be termed a tragic loss of an unviable twin pregnancy. They’d tell her to hang on for another week. As if she wouldn’t do anything to hang on.
Her abdomen tightened ominously and she sucked in her breath and forced herself to breathe out. Be loose. Be relaxed. Don’t get stressed.
She tried to swallow
the lump lodged in her throat. Even the wonders of medical science couldn’t help her babies if they were born. Dreadful odds for a healthy outcome.
In the last few weeks she hadn’t even contemplated losing them. ‘Very premature birth’ were three terrifying words. Why would she have thought this could happen?
She stroked her tight little mound gently and sniffed back the tears. ‘Come on, babies. Stop frightening your mummy.’
She had the top obstetrician in the hospital looking after her, at her home, sending off samples, procuring her antibiotics, all without her having to leave the comfort of her bed. And without the whole hospital rampant with curiosity.
Maybe Nick was right, and she just needed to be more careful. Had she been doing too much in the garden? Or maybe she shouldn’t have reached up for those overhanging fronds?
Guilt swamped her and it didn’t help that she knew, rationally, she hadn’t done anything wrong. ‘I’m so sorry, babies,’ she whispered.
As if in answer a tiny knee or elbow rose in her stomach and poked her as if to reassure her. She smiled mistily. It was incredible, the bond she felt to these tiny pods of humanity who had slipped into her heart so unexpectedly. Her whole life was affected by their now planned-for arrival in around four months’ time and she realised, far too belatedly, that she’d be devastated if she lost them.
She looked imploringly at the ceiling. ‘I promise I’ll be more careful, God. Honest.’ A tear trickled down her cheek.
‘If I can just keep my babies.’ She glanced around the room, feeling slightly guilty with the fact that she only thought of praying when she wanted something. And she hadn’t realised how much she really wanted these babies.
A knock on the door had her reach for a tissue and she blew her nose just as Nick poked his head in. ‘How are you doing?’
As he approached the bed Nick saw the traces of tears on her cheeks and her eyes were suspiciously bright. But her voice was normal so he hoped nothing too catastrophic had happened while he’d been away. He put down the backpack he’d brought stuff in.
‘You okay?’ She looked damp but tragically beautiful. It was the first time he’d thought of her as beautiful, didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before. But it wasn’t helpful in this situation.
Gold Coast Angels: Two Tiny Heartbeats Page 7