The Pregnancy Discovery

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘I’m fine.’ Sam watched in silence as his mother poured cream into a delicate porcelain jug and selected coffee spoons. ‘I do have a few things weighing on my mind,’ he admitted at last.

  ‘I know that, dear.’ Amanda crossed the room to where he stood leaning against the pantry cupboard and gave him a hearty, motherly hug. ‘Would one of these things on your mind be a pretty blonde Australian girl?’

  He eyed his mother shrewdly and released a half-sigh, half-laugh. ‘I heard that some photos found their way back here, but I didn’t think you read those sorts of magazines.’

  ‘I don’t, but my cleaning lady does. She showed them to me. You seemed—er—quite taken with the young lady.’

  Sam grimaced. His mother didn’t usually comment about his appearances in the press. She was used to it. ‘They caught me at an unguarded moment.’

  ‘Several unguarded moments.’

  His head jerked up. ‘How many photos have you seen?’ Then, shoving his hands in his pockets, he added quickly, ‘Don’t answer that. I’d rather not know.’

  ‘She looks like a lovely young woman.’

  ‘It’s nothing serious,’ he muttered, determined not to discuss Meg with his mother. ‘You know how the press get carried away.’

  ‘It’s high time you did get serious about a girl. I don’t know how your lady friends put up with your casual attitude.’ Amanda stepped a pace away from her son and eyed him shrewdly. ‘Julia Davenport seemed to miss you while you were away.’

  Sam scowled. But his mind raced ahead. If he didn’t make a quick response to this not-so-subtle hint, his mother would launch full steam ahead with another of her matchmaking ploys. ‘I’m taking Julia to the theatre next week,’ he said hastily. He’d have to remember to get Ellen to arrange that.

  Amanda brightened. ‘That will be lovely. What are you going to see?’

  ‘Er…Julia’s making the selection.’

  She looked even more pleased. ‘Julia has excellent taste. She’s very knowledgeable about the arts.’

  ‘I hope she chooses a comedy. I could do with some lightening up. Look,’ he said with a sigh, ‘there’s something completely different and much more important I want to talk to you about.’ He paused for a beat or two. ‘I have some bad news for Dad.’

  Amanda frowned. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Bad enough that I think I should tell you first and you can see whether you think he can take it.’

  ‘Oh, heavens, Sam.’

  ‘It’s about the will. The will in the bottle.’

  ‘I must say, I’ve been very curious about that.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant for us.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  Sam looked away from his mother’s anxious eyes. ‘It was written for Tom Kirby’s wife.’

  ‘Judith? But she was your father’s mother—your grandmother.’

  ‘No. Mother,’ he said quietly. ‘Not Judith.’

  Amanda’s face paled. ‘But that’s ridiculous.’ She raised a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘You don’t mean…?’ Grabbing her son’s arm, she shook him. ‘What on earth are you saying?’

  He told her about Tom and Dolly and his grandmother’s cover-up.

  For several long, shocked minutes, Amanda Kirby stood perfectly still in the middle of her beautiful designer kitchen. Sam could see by her increasingly stricken expression that the full implication of his news was slowly sinking in—his father’s illegitimacy and the threat to the Kirby family’s holdings.

  After some time, he said, ‘One piece of good news is that Dolly Kirby isn’t interested in any part of the family business, although legally she could lay claim to everything.’

  Amanda nodded, her dark brown eyes wide in her still pale face.

  ‘She says she hasn’t contributed anything to Kirby & Son and she doesn’t expect anything in return…except the acknowledged legitimacy of her marriage by this family.’

  ‘This family? By that, you mean all of us? Including your father?’

  Sam nodded.

  Amanda walked unsteadily back to the stove. After a long moment of silence she said, ‘There’s no way I could keep a secret like that to myself…and your father’s been much better lately. I think he can take this news.’ She turned and shot Sam a warning glance. ‘But we’ll have to find a careful way to put it to him.’

  ‘OK. I’ll follow your lead.’ Sam took the laden tray from his mother. ‘And there’s one other thing I’d like to discuss with Dad as soon as possible. It’s to do with the business.’

  Amanda frowned. ‘Can we take this one step at a time?’

  Meg watched the doctor’s expression, trying to read her thoughts. Eventually, she said, ‘Yes, my dear, you’re pregnant. There’s no doubt about it.’

  Meg closed her eyes as alarm mingled with excitement. So it was true!

  It was a shock, but not exactly unexpected. Over the past month, she’d experienced all the well-known symptoms of pregnancy and the kit she’d bought from the chemist had produced a positive result. But hearing the doctor’s confirmation made it so definite.

  Pregnant!

  A tiny new life growing inside her.

  The female doctor studied Meg over her half-glasses. ‘Is this good news?’

  Meg opened her mouth to answer and then hesitated. Was it good news? She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t think. The only thought that stayed steady in her head was that, now, she would never be able to forget Sam.

  ‘Meg? Are you all right, dear?’

  Startled, she looked at the doctor and realised she was expected to say something. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘What did you ask me? We definitely used protection. It must have failed. I don’t know how it failed.’

  ‘Unfortunately, these things still happen.’ The doctor sighed and reached out to give Meg’s hand a reassuring pat. ‘But don’t worry. You’re a strong, healthy young woman. You’ll breeze through this pregnancy and, at the end of it, there’ll be a beautiful baby.’

  Meg nodded and attempted to smile, but her lips and smile muscles wouldn’t respond. This was supposed to be a special moment. She should be rushing home to her husband to share the good news. That was how she’d always imagined news of such an event would happen.

  Her handsome husband would be thrilled. He’d tell her to take it easy…and then he’d place his hand lovingly on her stomach…and he’d offer to bring her a cup of tea in bed in the mornings…

  Now, she realised that a picture like that was only a silly, girlish dream. This was reality. She looked at the doctor. ‘I was hoping to be able to pick up my postgrad studies next term.’

  ‘That still might be possible,’ the doctor said thoughtfully, but she sounded doubtful.

  Meg dropped her head into her hands. No Sam…no marine science…just a baby… She felt so tired, so overwhelmed.

  ‘Meg?’ The doctor’s voice sounded sterner and louder. ‘You do plan to go ahead with the pregnancy, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She dragged her thoughts back to the present, to this room with its sensible carpet and the smell of medicine and the doctor sitting at her desk looking ultra neat and sensible. And concerned. ‘I wouldn’t consider—No, I definitely want to have this baby.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled, then.’

  Now that she’d said the words out loud—I definitely want to have this baby—Meg felt a whole heap better. ‘When is my baby due?’ she asked. My baby. How strange those two words sounded.

  The doctor consulted her chart. ‘Going by your dates, I’d say somewhere around the middle of February.’

  ‘February,’ Meg repeated. Summer. The island was usually at its hottest and wettest in February. It was right in the middle of the wet season. Not the best time of the year to have a baby.

  ‘We’ll get a clearer idea of how far along you are when we see the ultrasound pictures in a few weeks’ time.’

  Meg nodded.

  Glancing at Meg’s ringless left hand, the doctor added, ‘Do y
ou have a partner to support you?’

  ‘No.’ Her mind flashed to what Sam had said about whirlwind romances and hasty commitments. I’m not in a position to even think about the long term. When she saw the other woman’s faint frown, she added, ‘But I’m OK. I’m fine.’

  ‘What about your family?’

  Again Meg shook her head. ‘I’m afraid there’s just me.’ She tried to flash a bright, confident smile, but she knew the doctor wasn’t fooled. ‘I’ll manage quite well,’ she said more boldly. ‘My father died earlier this year, but he left me enough to manage for the time being.’

  A sudden vision of her father swam into her imagination and Meg was engulfed by a wave of sadness. Dad wouldn’t see this little baby—his grandchild.

  Just as Sam won’t see his son or daughter, another thought whispered. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said gently. ‘It’s tough doing this on your own.’

  ‘I’m just missing—’ a sob escaped ‘—missing Dad.’

  ‘Of course. And you’ll find you’re inclined to be a little weepy for a while. You can put it down to hormones.’ After a sympathetic pause, she went on to outline some of the more routine aspects of monitoring a pregnancy and she gave Meg a pamphlet about pregnancy support groups. Eventually the visit was over.

  Back out on the street, Meg was crossing the car park to her Mini Moke when the upside of her situation suddenly hit her. A baby meant that she would be part of a family again. A twosome. Mother and child. She and her baby would be close—just as she’d been with her father. She’d have someone to love her again. Someone for her to love back.

  The thought of a baby’s soft chubby arms clasping her made her smile as she turned the key in the ignition. She allowed herself to dream a little.

  Maybe the baby would be a boy. A little boy with short black hair and sky-blue eyes. She could picture his cute, cheeky grin. Like Sam’s.

  That thought brought another painful block of tears damming her throat. No, she didn’t miss Sam Kirby!

  She wouldn’t be able to tell him about the baby. Not after the way they’d parted. What could he do besides give her money? She didn’t want his money and she certainly didn’t want him directing her life, from the other side of the Pacific.

  As if thinking about Sam today wasn’t misery enough, there was a parcel from him when she got home. With fumbling fingers, Meg opened it and, nestling in a velvet-lined silver box was a beautiful Ceylon-blue sapphire pendant on a silver chain.

  He had written a note on the accompanying card in funny, square handwriting: ‘As soon as I can, I want to see how your eyes catch its blue sparkle.’

  ‘Oh, Sam,’ Meg whispered and began to sob at once.

  Even from such a distance he could reach the most vulnerable corners of her heart. With very little effort, Sam could show up her weakness. Whatever he did made her want him. She was having his baby! What on earth was she going to do?

  Sinking onto a chair, she clutched the pendant and raised her hands to cover her face. She could feel the cool stone pressing into her hot cheek and a miserable shudder shook her body.

  Meg didn’t know how long she huddled there weeping, but after a time the flow slowed to a trickle and a persistent thought kept nudging her attention. She should let Sam know about the baby. Part of her desperately wanted to tell him. Not that she thought for one moment that he would be pleased with the news. It would just be another complication in his already complicated life.

  But it was his baby. She could reassure him that she was fine and she could insist that she didn’t need anything. But she would feel better if he knew.

  Frowning thoughtfully, she dug her diary out of her handbag and found the page that listed the various time zones.

  And just before seven the next morning, she nervously punched in the numbers Sam had left her.

  Her hand shook and her throat felt parched as she held the receiver to her ear. It took a few minutes for her to be put through from the main Kirby & Son office to Sam’s personal assistant. Of course, it would have been expecting too much to think he had given her the number of his direct line.

  ‘Sam Kirby’s office. How can I help you?’ asked a pleasant female voice.

  ‘Oh.’ Meg swallowed back a sudden surge of panic. ‘Could I speak to Mr Kirby, please?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s busy at a meeting right now. Who’s speaking?’

  ‘Ah—my name’s Meg Bennet. Sam—um—has my number.’

  ‘Meg Bennet!’ the other woman cried and Meg was stunned by the rush of warmth and excitement in her voice. ‘Oh, Meg, I’m so sorry. Sam is going to be tied up in meetings all afternoon. Perhaps you should try him at home this evening. Just let me check his diary and I’ll see what he’s doing tonight.’

  Meg heard the sound of pages rustling. Then she heard what definitely sounded like a sigh on the other end of the line.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Sam’s assistant said. ‘He does have something pencilled in for this evening. But if you ring around six, you should be able to catch him before he goes out.’

  A wave of nausea almost prevented Meg from answering. Sam hadn’t given her his home number, but this woman assumed she would know it.

  ‘Is there any other way I can help you?’ came the friendly voice again.

  ‘Could you—I don’t have—I seem to have lost Sam’s home number.’ Feeling more embarrassed than ever, Meg asked, ‘Could you give it to me, please?’

  ‘Of course, dear. You must have Sam’s home number.’

  Slightly puzzled by the surprising friendliness of the woman’s tone, Meg copied down the digits. But after the call disconnected, she sank into another depressed huddle on her sofa.

  All night, she’d lain awake thinking about making this call. She’d practised a dozen different ways to tell Sam her news. I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. Your baby. You’re going to have a baby. We’re going to have a baby. When’s Father’s Day in America?

  She’d been so pent up with nerves, she’d almost chickened out of ringing him at all! And now she had to wait for several more hours!

  Perhaps she wasn’t strong enough for this.

  Being distracted by work all morning helped, so she was feeling more relaxed at the beginning of her lunch hour, when she hurried back to her cottage to make an attempt at calling him at home.

  But her relaxation evaporated when a young woman answered.

  ‘Sam’s place.’ She purred the words. ‘Julia speaking.’

  ‘I—I—Could I please speak to Sam?’ Oh, Lord! She panicked. A girlfriend! Do I have to tell him he’s about to become a father, when there’s another woman standing right beside him? She almost slammed the receiver down.

  ‘Who’s speaking?’ the woman asked and the question sounded as if it had been dipped in ice.

  Meg pressed her forehead with a damp palm. ‘Meg. Meg Bennet. From North Queensland. Australia.’ Her heart was thumping so loudly she wondered if it was echoing down the airwaves.

  There was a distinct pause. ‘I’m afraid Sam’s busy right now. He’s taking a shower.’ Another pause. ‘But, as you’re calling long distance, would you like me to take the phone through to him?’

  ‘No!’ Meg cried, and she cringed as she realised it was more like a scream. ‘No,’ she repeated in a whisper. ‘I’ll—I’ll try again some other time. Goodbye.’

  She crashed the receiver down and slumped against the wall, a hand pressed against her pounding chest. Sam had a girlfriend, who could casually talk about walking in on him in the shower without turning a hair!

  She closed her eyes and tried to block out the images that thought conjured. She knew he was a handsome bachelor millionaire. Of course a cavalcade of intimate girlfriends went with the territory.

  Why hadn’t she expected something like this? Sam might have told Meg she was special. He might have thought he meant it at the time. But hearing that silky, sophisticated voice reinfor
ced for Meg something she had known all along: Men put island holiday romances completely out of their minds as soon as they reached home.

  She felt more miserable and alone than ever. If Sam wanted to forget about her, she’d give him every chance. And she would have to do her best to forget about him, too.

  There was really only one way…

  Still fastening his cufflinks, Sam walked into his lounge to fix himself a quick drink before Julia Davenport arrived. He needed a stiff one before he faced the evening ahead. Julia was pleasant enough company but, since he’d come home from Australia, his interest in women had lost its punch.

  Perhaps it had been the intoxicating effects of the tropical sea air but, whenever he looked at another woman these days, visions of Meg seemed to haunt him.

  Picking up a decanter, he glimpsed a slight movement in his peripheral vision. He double checked. Julia was sitting on his sofa, dressed in something black and skimpy. One long leg was elegantly crossed over the other and a long slender arm was draped along the back of the sofa.

  Now she uncurled herself slowly, like a lazy cat.

  ‘Julia. I didn’t realise you were already here.’

  ‘I let myself in,’ she said in a sultry croon as she glided across the room towards him.

  ‘How?’ he asked, puzzled.

  She smiled from beneath lowered lashes. ‘Your mother gave me a key while you were away. So I could water your house plants.’

  Sam’s jaw clenched. ‘I have a maid who attends to the house plants. My mother knows that.’ He poured himself a doubly stiff Scotch.

  ‘Sam.’ Julia pouted. ‘Don’t be angry with me. I thought it would be good if I was more—available.’

  He ignored her innuendo. ‘There was a phone ringing earlier. Did you take it?’

  A dark scowl clouded her face, undoing the effects of her carefully applied make-up. She flicked her head and said airily, ‘It was just a wrong number.’

  Had he imagined that slight shiftiness in her eyes as she’d answered? Sam downed his drink in an angry gulp. If Julia thought he wanted her to be available, she was in for a disappointing night.