A Return, a Reunion, a Wedding

by Annie O'Neil

  They laughed.

  ‘That wasn’t really meant to come out as a question.’

  He pulled her to him and they shared what felt like their first proper ‘just like the old days’ hug.

  Sure. There were differences. They’d both seen and experienced things that had left marks on each of their hearts. But sometimes those scars made a person stronger.

  He crooked a finger and tipped up her chin so that they were looking into one another’s eyes.

  ‘As first dates go I think it was pretty good.’

  Jayne huffed out a yeah, right laugh.

  Okay, fine. It had been weird. What wasn’t weird was this. Holding her in his arms. Feeling her thighs brush against his. Her breasts pressing lightly into his chest. Her lips just inches away from his own.

  ‘Was it good enough to go on another one?’ she whispered.

  He saw it then. The vulnerability in her eyes. And everything that made him the man he was wanted to reassure her that whatever was going on between the pair of them would work out for the best. Even if neither of them knew right now what form that might take.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he said, then dipped his head to kiss her ever so softly on the lips, the nose, the forehead. ‘Sweet dreams, love.’

  She smiled and blew him a kiss as she climbed the steps to the door. ‘And you.’

  He waited until the door had closed behind her before turning to go. It was early days, but maybe now would be a good time to feel a bit of optimism.

  * * *

  ‘You’re looking rather cheery today,’ Maggie observed as Jayne wiped the crumbs from the unburnt breakfast toast from the table.

  How could she not? That one solitary sweet kiss at Maggie’s front door had given her the first night of restful dreams she’d had in years. Sure, the evening had been unusual in terms of conversation topics, but—tempting as it was to live in a happy romantic bubble—they were doing their best to address real issues. Otherwise, how on earth were they ever going to trust one another? More to the point, how was Sam ever going to trust her.

  ‘You’re humming,’ Maggie said.

  ‘I just love keeping a happy, tidy home,’ said Jayne on a tra-la-la.

  Maggie snorted. ‘Yeah, right...’ She made a show of lumbering over to the kitchen window and looked out towards the river. ‘How were my little rascals when you sent them off to school this morning? Sorry I couldn’t get up.’

  ‘Rascally.’ Jayne laughed. ‘And don’t worry about not getting up. That’s why I’m here.’

  They’d been great, actually. Now that they were used to having someone else get them sorted for school. She was also enjoying being called Auntie Jayne. Before, when Maggie had had them do it, it had felt false. As if everyone were putting on a show that this stranger was a part of their lives. Now she felt connected to Maggie in a much more real way. They were proper friends again. Friends who were there for one another.

  ‘Right, girlie! You ready to make some more bunting for the fete?’

  ‘Ugh. Why did I decide it needed to be handmade?’ Maggie waddled back to her chaise longue. ‘Are you sure this thing can handle me?’

  Jayne laughed. ‘It’s been handling you for the past few weeks. I don’t see why it should stop now.’

  Maggie flicked her thumb in the direction of the downstairs loo. ‘I just stood on the scales.’

  ‘Oh...?’ Jayne kept her reaction neutral. Weight gain during pregnancy was normal. A rapid weight gain—especially with Maggie’s diagnosis of pre-eclampsia—could indicate something much, much worse. ‘How much was it this time?’

  ‘About three kilos.’

  ‘Okay...well, let’s check again in a couple of hours. See if there’s any change.’

  It was a lot for an overnight weight gain, but nothing to get too concerned over. Not yet, anyway.

  Maggie sat down and, with Jayne’s help, swung her legs up on to the cushions. ‘Mmm...nice. Okay.’ She started issuing instructions. ‘Pull that table over here. I need a the polka dotted fabric and the one with the butterflies. And the ribbons, too, please.’

  After Jayne had set Maggie up with her tower of material, ribbons and a wealth of needles and thread, she sat down at the kitchen table and poured out a jar of buttons. This huge old oak table had seen a lot of action lately. Family meals, crafting, planning for the fete, Sam’s roast chicken...

  She wondered if she might ever share a table with Sam that would become embedded with their own memories.

  It’s still early days, yet.

  ‘Throw the scissors over, would you, Jayne?’

  Jayne mimed hurling them across the room, and then presented them to her as a courtier might bring a gift to a queen.

  ‘Thanks, friend.’

  Maggie’s thank-you flew straight into her heart. It was one of those special thank-yous. The type that actually meant I knew I could count on you.

  A thought spiralled round her brain, then clattered into her heart. Had she got the trust thing wrong?

  Sharing the details of Stella and the surgery had been painful, but Sam hadn’t judged her. Hadn’t pushed her away. He’d pulled her in closer. Told her she would heal. Told her that everyone would help, that they were there for her. In good times and in bad.

  Then why didn’t you trust Maggie when Jules died? Your parents? Sam?

  She rammed a button onto her canvas and succeeded in gluing her finger to it. Served her right.

  Living with her secret had driven such a thick wedge between her and the life she now knew she wanted to live. One with balance and friends and, most importantly, love. Sam was the love of her life, and keeping this one simple truth from him made the whole idea of a fresh start a joke.

  Her mother had told her to look after Jules. When her daredevil sister had insisted they do something to celebrate her engagement, pulling out their bicycles had just popped into her mind. She’d never once thought it would lead to Jules’s death. She’d pictured the two of them tootling along to the pub for a celebratory glass of fizz. Not high-tailing it down the road as Jules led, shouting over her shoulder about needing to feel the wind in her hair and the rush of danger in her veins.

  As button after button went down on her canvas Jayne relived the scene.

  She’d tried to catch up with Jules. Her lungs had burnt with the effort. She’d pushed and pushed her pedals as hard as she’d been able to, but despite her efforts she hadn’t been as fast as that sports car had.

  Since that day her life had become an endless race. A relentless push to catch up with a girl who had died because of a longing to feel the wind in her hair.

  Jayne fought the urge to close her eyes, knowing the scene would play itself out yet again if she did. Instead she glued button after button.

  So much good had come of the last few weeks. The renewal of friendships. The gentle healing of old wounds with Sam. She didn’t want to lose that. But would honesty do more good or make her biggest fear come true? That the family and friends she loved would turn their backs on her the way she’d turned her back on them so they wouldn’t see her pain.

  Maggie looked up from her project and saw Jayne furiously working away. ‘Show me.’

  Jayne held up her canvas. A dog could have done a better job. ‘What do you think?’

  Maggie tried her best not to smirk. And then she couldn’t hold it in any more. She laughed until tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  ‘That bad?’

  Maggie’s hands moved to her swollen tummy. ‘Let’s just say the apple didn’t fall very close to the tree when it comes to artistic abilities.’

  Jayne didn’t take offence. She’d never been artistic. But the comment hurt. Not only was she not anything like her parents, she had failed them in the most epic way possible.

  She made a vow then and there to ring them tonight. Tell t
hem everything. Fly up and see them if need be. Maybe face to face would be better...

  She started making a to-do list in her head. The children would need help if she went. Maggie would need looking after. There were Sam’s sisters... They might help. And after the surgery closed perhaps Sam could make his famous roast chicken again—

  ‘Jayne?’

  Maggie was swiping away tears with one hand and holding her stomach with the other.

  ‘Yes, honey? What’s up?’

  Jayne went over to her in case she needed to be handed something. When she got there the crimson stain of blood told her all she needed to know.

  She didn’t need art supplies. She needed an ambulance.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘WHEN IS THE ambulance coming?’

  It was about the fifteenth time Jayne had asked since she’d rung him.

  ‘Soon.’

  Sam snuggled the quilt up to Maggie’s back as Jayne held her on her side. It would be a makeshift stretcher if the paramedics couldn’t get their gurney into the old-fashioned kitchen. It would also be a protection against the hard stone floor if she had a seizure.

  Once they’d got the quilt in place Jayne put a cool cloth on her friend’s forehead. A distraction, really.

  ‘Mags, try not to twist and turn so much, all right? Sam needs to insert a cannula in your forearm.’

  There was no hint of panic in her voice, but Sam could see fear in her eyes. Maggie’s pregnancy was going rapidly, dangerously wrong. The paramedics’ arrival time might very well be a question of life or death.

  ‘Magnesium should help with the cramping, Mags, okay?’

  Jayne stopped still for a second, swept her hair away from her shoulders and cocked her head to the left. ‘I think I hear the ambulance. Shall I go out and flag it down?’

  ‘No. They know where to come. Hold Maggie’s arm steady... On my count I’m going to insert the cannula. And one...two...three. Job done.’

  ‘The cramping’s getting worse!’ Maggie screamed, paled, then whispered, ‘The children. Don’t let the children see me like this.’

  Jayne shot him a grim look.

  ‘You stay with Mags. I’ll go. There’s diazepam if she starts to seize or the cramps get too severe. I’ve already drawn a five-milligram injection.’ He pointed to where he’d put it, within arm’s reach, and then headed for the front door.

  He’d rung the village school, but hadn’t been able to get through to the head teacher before running out of the surgery and along the river to Maggie’s cottage. Seeing their mother like this would be terrifying.

  Jayne mouthed a quick thank-you as she calmly and quietly continued to make Maggie as comfortable as she could.

  This, he realised, was the Jayne her patients met. Serious, compassionate, and committed to seeing things through no matter what the circumstances. Her hospital had one hell of an asset in her.

  He ran out onto the lane just as the children appeared with another mum. He took her to one side and quietly explained the situation. She immediately insisted on having them over at her house for the night.

  When he got back to the house Jayne was taking Maggie’s blood pressure again. He raised an eyebrow instead of asking the obvious. Too high? Her tight expression was all the answer he needed.

  Hypertension was the last thing Maggie needed. She was already on tablets for high blood pressure. They had obviously stopped working. The consequences were almost impossible to take on board. Stroke, heart failure, aneurysm...and the list went on.

  ‘I’m not going to lose my babies, am I?’ Maggie’s voice was breathy and the words came out in individual gasps.

  Sam knew as well as Jayne did that she could absolutely lose the twins. They could even lose Maggie.

  ‘I think it might be H-E-L-L-P Syndrome,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘What’s that?’ Maggie wailed.

  Not low enough.

  He and Jayne shared a sharp look. Simply put, it wasn’t anything she wanted to have.

  ‘It can complicate a pregnancy,’ Jayne said as she used a fresh cool cloth to wipe away a sheen of sweat from Maggie’s forehead.

  She was putting it mildly. H-E-L-L-P was a life-threatening pregnancy complication. It struck hard and fast. If she didn’t get to a hospital soon the outcome was grim.

  Sam had been so jacked up after that sweet, simple kiss with Jayne last night he hadn’t been able to sleep. So he’d read medical journals instead. Fate, or luck, or whatever it was had led him to articles about pre-eclampsia and its equally nasty cousin H-E-L-L-P.

  Sam forced himself to slow his thoughts down, focus in on the details.

  H-E-L-L-P. Haemolysis. Elevated liver enzyme levels. Low platelet levels. Maggie’s red blood cells would be breaking down. Her liver enzymes would be damaging the cells in her liver, leading to organ failure. All this while her platelet count would be plummeting, leading to internal bleeding. The long and the short of it meant that her life and the babies’ lives were at serious risk.

  Sweat was running off of Maggie’s forehead as fast as Jayne could wipe it away. Her breathing was becoming tighter—a sign that fluid was filling her lungs.

  ‘It’s only a guess, honeybun. We need to get to the hospital before we know all the facts.’ Jayne was soothing. She caught Sam’s eye and he saw the doctor in her take over. ‘She’s been gaining weight over the past week. All fluid, from the look of things. It shifts when she rolls on to her side. She’s also been complaining of a bit of tingling in her hands. I thought it might be because she was doing too much. Miss Arts-and-Crafts, here, doesn’t do idle.’

  ‘You’re not blaming the bunting, are you? We need it! The village needs it!’ Maggie gasped.

  ‘No, love. Don’t worry about that now.’

  He nodded at Jayne. He understood what she was saying. Getting Maggie to rest properly was as easy as getting a puppy not to wag its tail.

  Then Jayne delivered the punchline. ‘Right before I called you she started complaining of shoulder pain and blurred vision. Then the cramping hit, big time.’

  Classic H-E-L-L-P. Although it was a difficult syndrome to diagnose. Especially without blood and urine tests.

  They did the best they could to make Maggie comfortable as the wail of sirens drew closer. Sam shot outside and ran the paramedics through the scenario as they jogged towards the house, flanking a wheeled stretcher.

  They entered the kitchen just as Jayne was giving a very pale-faced Maggie a cervical examination.

  She looked directly at Sam. ‘We need to get her into Theatre ASAP. Otherwise we’re having twins right here.’

  Together they swiftly shifted Maggie to the trolley and fitted her with an oxygen mask. Sam ran through the symptoms again, and then medications they’d need to counterbalance premature labour as they hurried Maggie into the ambulance.

  When it was time for one of them to jump in with her Jayne deferred to Sam. ‘You’re her doctor.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re her friend.’

  She squeezed his hand tight and hopped in alongside her.

  Just as they were about to close the doors Jayne stopped them. ‘Are you coming too?’

  His heart slammed against his ribcage. She didn’t need him there, but in those blue eyes of hers he could see it as plain as the hand in front of his face. She wanted him with her.

  She didn’t need to ask him twice.

  He drove his own car behind the ambulance and ran from the car park to catch up with them as they hurried Maggie straight into an operating theatre.

  When Jayne moved to follow the surgical team, one of the surgeons held his hand out as they shifted Maggie on to the surgical trolley. ‘I’m sorry. We’ve got this now. Friends and family have to wait outside.’

  One of the nurses called out. ‘Blood pressure’s rising.
Two-ten over one hundred!’

  All the blood drained from Jayne’s face. Maggie could die.

  The surgeon put his hand out again as she lunged towards the open doors of the operating theatre. ‘Sorry. We need you to leave. Now.’

  Sam wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her tight. The surgeon was right. She was too close. Far too close. Although he could feel the fight in her, he also sensed acceptance. And if she was going to have to wait with anyone, fight with anyone, grieve with anyone, she could do it with him.

  And that was one hell of a sea-change from seven years ago when her sister had been killed.

  All they could do was watch and wait.

  Surgeons were pouring into the operating theatre. More trolleys were wheeled in, and lamps, IV stands and meds were all steered into place around Maggie.

  Jayne’s eyes shot to Maggie, who was being hooked up to a fresh IV line. ‘Look. She’s scratching at her hands.’

  They all knew what that meant. Liver failure.

  ‘Please,’ she pleaded. ‘Let me scrub in.’

  One of the surgeons shook his head. ‘You should be calling the father. He’ll want to know as soon as possible.’

  ‘We’re on it.’

  Sam shifted his hold on Jayne and wrapped an arm firmly round her shoulders. She was living her worst nightmare all over again. Watching someone close to her fight for her life. Maggie was his friend, too. He got it. This was terrifying. But part of surviving was knowing when to step back.

  ‘He’s right, Jayne. We should leave them to it.’

  The surgeon gave him a quick nod of thanks and then disappeared behind the swinging doors.

  Jayne whirled round, her expression a mix of anger and confusion. The cool, calm, collected surgeon had quite clearly left the building.

  ‘I should be in there!’

  ‘No.’ Sam knew he was on solid ground here. ‘You shouldn’t. You’re like family to Maggie. Why do you think she wanted you back here in Whitticombe?’

  Jayne flicked her thumb towards the operating theatre. ‘Uh...that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’