Fix You

by Carrie Elks

  “There you go, Daddy. The first ones for your collection.”

  Tom laughed and didn’t bother to correct her, making Hanna wonder if he was already feeling a little proprietorial about her child. She was unsure if it was a good thing or not—she didn’t want to complicate things with Richard more than she already had.

  But then she thought about it, and if Richard refused to help her, perhaps it was a good thing to have Tom by her side. She didn’t want to go through this alone, and he seemed over the moon about her pregnant state. It wasn’t as if there was anything romantic between them; they were just good friends.

  “Tom, you can’t tell Ruby about this, not until I’ve spoken with Richard, okay?” The last thing she needed was for the Larsens to find out before she’d told the father.

  “My lips are sealed. But you know I’m gonna get a mini Fatal Limits t-shirt made for your kid.”

  She laughed. “This baby is going to be the coolest on the block with you for a godfather.”

  “Seriously? I’m gonna be a dad?”

  His enthusiasm made her breath stop. Those were the right words, but from the wrong mouth. “A god dad,” she corrected, but her words didn’t seem to dent his ardor at all. “You get to spoil the kid rotten and take him or her out for its first drink.”

  “Can I do it soon?”

  “Only if it’s for a bottle of milk.” Hanna let him take her hand as they left the room. “In the meantime, I’ll accept foot rubs and home-cooked meals.”

  “It’s a deal.” He winked, and she let herself feel a tiny spark of hope. If Tom was this excited, perhaps Richard, too, would be over the moon.

  HANNA DIDN’T GO back to the office after the appointment. She wanted to center herself, consider the implications, and prepare herself to make the telephone call. She planned to do it in the evening, when it would be lunchtime in New York, and she stood a chance of catching Richard undisturbed.

  She paced her flat, unable to concentrate on anything, or sit still long enough to let the fear take hold. In the kitchen, she cleaned the hob even though it was already sparkling, then she moved to her bedroom and rearranged her t-shirts into color-order.

  Anything to avoid the need to think.

  Five o’clock came and went. She was prevaricating, telling herself that ringing him on the dot of five was a little too keen, and he’d probably still be in a meeting. By the time the hand on her kitchen clock was showing ten past, she swallowed hard, and wished she’d asked Tom to stay with her. This was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

  At quarter past five she felt a tiny flutter in her stomach. Even the baby was getting tired of her procrastination, and Hanna rubbed her skin, unsure whether she was trying to reassure herself, or her unborn child. She owed it to him or her to tell their daddy. And she owed it to Richard to tell him the truth.

  She unlocked her phone and opened up her contacts. Pressing her finger on Richard’s name, she pushed it down on the green phone symbol and watched the call connect before putting her cell to her ear.

  One ring, two, and then three. Each moment stretched beyond time, and the nausea in her stomach rose up until her throat tightened.

  “Hello?” A female voice. Not what she was expecting.

  She took a deep breath. “May I speak with Richard, please?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Hanna Vincent.”

  There was a long pause. She was about to repeat herself when the voice on the other end of the phone replied. “Hanna, this is Richard’s mother, I’m not sure if you remember me.”

  “Yes, I remember you, Mrs. Maxwell.” How could she forget?

  “He’s not available right now. He’s with his fiancée.”

  “I really need to speak with him, it’s quite important.” Hanna surprised herself with her vehemence.

  “I don’t think anything is as important as Meredith’s health,” Caroline replied tersely. “She’s been told she will be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. The girl is crippled, Hanna. Whatever you want to say, please don’t bother, you can only cause them hurt.” She paused momentarily; as if to allow her words to sink in, before adding, “Don’t call him again.”

  Hanna froze. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear her own heartbeat. Reality fell like a ton of bricks, her previous certainty deserting her. It couldn’t be true, could it? When she last saw Richard, he was hopeful that Meredith would be able to walk again. How he must have suffered, knowing that she was unable to walk, and he would need to stay by her side.

  She wanted to see the news in black and white, so she opened her laptop and typed Meredith’s name into the search box. The details of the accident flashed onto her screen. There was no news beyond the initial report back in February. Hanna felt her heart break as she remembered the vibrant, vivacious blonde, and tried to imagine her confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

  How could she ever tell Richard she was having his baby when he was needed so much? If she told him now, would he desert his fiancée and come to help her? Could she ever look him in the eye and respect him if he did? Was she able to put him in that position, where he had to choose between his fiancée’s health and being with his child?

  She knew she couldn’t.

  He would grow to hate her—and maybe their baby—for making him choose. He was a good man, almost too kind, and she knew his instincts would be telling him to stay with Meredith. All she had to do was remember how he had given up his dreams to take over Maxwell Enterprises after Leon died.

  She hung up without saying a word, putting her hand over her heart, and feeling it clatter against her palm. Her whole body shook as she pressed more buttons on her phone and lifted it again, immediately calming upon hearing Tom’s voice.

  “I need to leave London until the baby is born.”

  This time she wasn’t running. She was stepping down, putting others before herself. Though it broke her heart to know she would have to cut herself off from her surrogate family, she knew was she wouldn’t be able to see the Larsens. If they were to tell Richard the truth about the baby, she knew his heart would be torn in two.

  Twenty One

  April 25th 2012

  “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man.” Hanna touched Matty’s tiny palm to hers, the slapping sound of skin on skin making his little eyes light up with delight. She repeated the song, and he squealed happily, nodding his head to encourage her to do it again.

  He’d been awake for ten minutes, after a long afternoon nap, and it looked like he was going to make it through until Tom arrived. He’d made Hanna promise to keep his godson up until he got to his Villa in Nice, desperate to see how Matthew had changed in the few months since he’d last seen him.

  “Row.” Matty’s vocabulary still consisted of single-word sentences, but each day he understood more. His face became so animated when Hanna asked him to find his shoes and he toddled back with them in his hand, standing proudly on his chubby legs.

  Hanna took his hands in hers and began to sing Row your Boat. As always, he held his breath until she got to the bit about crocodiles, and then he would let out an almighty shriek, doubling over with giggles when she put her hands over her ears in an exaggerated fashion, pretending he had deafened her.

  Christ, how she loved him. From the moment he was born and placed in her arms, it was like the sun had come out after hiding behind clouds for months. The adoration she felt for him bubbled up inside her, squeezing her heart until it physically hurt. She would move mountains for this boy, slay dragons, battle through the mines of Moria if she had to. Nothing was too good for him.

  Hanna had given birth in a hospital just outside Nice. An easy, uncomplicated birth, it was like a herald, welcoming the easiest, happiest child she’d ever had the luck to come across. Not that he didn’t cry—she was used to waking up in the night, finding his pacifier, offering him an extra feed. But even then, she was so conditioned to his needs, that it didn’t seem like
a drag to have to pull herself out of bed. She counted herself way too lucky for that.

  She’d tried to push the memory of Richard out of her mind, but he was never far away, always floating on the edge of her thoughts. She’d done the right thing; she really believed that. While Meredith was paralyzed and consigned to a wheelchair, at least Hanna had a beautiful future planned out with her little man, even if he’d never be able to know his father.

  Now Matty was nearly eighteen months, no longer a baby. Matthew Richard Vincent was her little man, light brown hair curling over his head, big brown eyes following her whenever she walked around the room. Hanna counted herself lucky that she’d spent nearly every day of the past year and a half with him, working from Tom’s villa, writing Fatal Limits’ biography, as well as writing for Buzz.

  She’d adapted Tom’s orangery into an office. Her laptop rested on a vintage, white wooden desk. In the corner—piled high in a garish, plastic cornucopia—stood Matty’s toys. Every half-hour or so, she would take a break, sit with him and build bricks until he pushed them back down. She loved to hear his gurgling guffaws.

  “Do you remember Uncle Tom, Matty?” She lifted him onto her lap, burying her face in his soft, downy hair. “He likes to sing to you.”

  Matty babbled something unintelligible, and Hanna played their usual game. She pretended to understand what he was saying, talking back to him as if he was just another adult.

  “That’s right; he recorded that song for you.”

  Dear Matty, released in February 2011, had gone platinum. Everybody thought it was a love song dedicated to a new girlfriend. Only the group and Hanna knew that it was really declaring Tom’s love for his newborn godson. Every time she heard it, the song sent chills down Hanna’s spine.

  Matty climbed onto Hanna’s lap, pushing himself up to standing, lacing his fleshy arms around her neck. His wrists still had little rolls that looked like somebody had put elastic bands over his skin. Every day he was getting stronger, slimmer, more like a child. Only the delight of getting to know him better was enough to quell the sadness that her baby was growing up.

  A loud three-tone beep from her phone alerted her to an incoming text. Lifting Matty from her lap, she balanced him on her knee, walking over to the corner of the glass room. Her iPhone was still lit up, and she picked it up, scraping her finger across the screen.

  Landed in Monte Carlo. Should be there in a couple of hours.

  The final leg of Fatal Limits’ world tour had been in Australia, and Tom had taken a couple of weeks off to relax and do some surfing. He’d flown home to London a week earlier, and was planning to join Hanna in Nice for a while. They needed to go through the final proofs of the biography, and hoped to spend some time together since Tom had been away so much after Matty was born.

  Hanna had only been back to London a couple of times herself. She still kept her flat there, knowing one day she might want to move home. But at the moment, she was settled in France. Matty loved the gardens of Tom’s villa, and going to the beach. It was an altogether more peaceful way of life.

  Plus, she didn’t have to worry about bumping into the Larsens.

  Will put the champagne on ice. Fish fingers for tea.

  She smiled as she sent him the text. One of his favorite parts of being a godfather was trying Matty’s food. During his whirlwind visits to France between tour dates, he’d enthusiastically feed Matty the frozen, pureed food that Hanna had made. Often he’d eat more than half himself, in his “one for Matty, one for Tom,” routine.

  Best make an extra portion. I’m bringing someone with me.

  Now, that was intriguing. To the best of her knowledge, Tom was single, although Hanna suspected he had his regular hook-ups in some of the towns he toured. Her hope that he would get together with Ruby seemed to go nowhere, and part of her suspected it was Hanna’s fault. In the carefully drawn lines between herself and the Larsens, Tom had placed himself firmly in Hanna’s camp.

  Not that she expected him to choose. She still kept in touch with Ruby and Claire, almost surprised that they accepted her lame-ass excuse for not being able to see them. She’d invented an agreement between herself and the “reclusive singer” she was writing about, saying she couldn’t reveal her whereabouts to family and friends. Perhaps it was Claire’s experience with New York eccentrics that led her to believe anything was possible, or Ruby’s preoccupation with her PhD in Molecular Physics. Either way, it had been embarrassingly easy to cover up Matty’s existence.

  THE FRONT DOOR banged, and Matty started babbling, splashing his hands in the bathwater.

  “You here?” Tom called out at her from the hallway.

  “In the bathroom,” Hanna shouted back, her face covered with a grin. “It’s a bit of a disaster in here.”

  Within moments, the bathroom door had flung open and Tom was standing in front of her, an absurd smile molding his lips.

  “Matty boy!” He leaned over the bath and squeezed Matthew, who smashed his fists in the water in protest. Tom’s expensive black t-shirt was soaked.

  Hanna drew her lips together tightly in an attempt to quell her laughter. Matty looked a little perturbed, both by the break in routine and Tom’s over-enthusiastic hug. He was getting weird about people he didn’t see very often. Hanna hoped it was a phase.

  She stood and hugged Tom, feeling the wetness of his t-shirt soak through to her blouse. “How was your flight?”

  “Long. I spent most of it asleep.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, as if to confirm his exhaustion.

  “I bet your friend loved that.”

  “My friend?”

  “Whoever it is you brought with you? The one I’ve prepared dinner for.”

  “You mean Ruby.” Tom laughed, and the words made Hanna’s blood run cold.

  “Ruby, as in Larsen?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ve brought Ruby here?”

  Tom put out a hand and rubbed the top of her arm. “It’s a long story; there are a few things you need to talk about.”

  “I’d say there is.”

  Hanna looked up to see Ruby standing in the doorway.

  “You said you’d wait until I’d spoken to her.” Tom walked over to Ruby and curled his arm around her waist. “This isn’t going to be any easier if you’re at each other’s necks.”

  Hanna felt her throat constrict. Panic made it hard to breathe. She felt betrayed by Tom and afraid that now the dam had been opened, the cozy little life she had built for Matty and herself was being threatened by those she missed the most.

  “Ruby, I’m so—”

  Matty splashed the water again, this time enough to get water on Ruby’s top. Hanna watched as a smile broke out over Ruby’s face, her features softening as she looked at Matty.

  “He’s beautiful.”

  Hanna just nodded, unsure what to say.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him, Hanna. I can’t understand why you didn’t trust me. We’re supposed to be friends, Jesus you’re my best friend, and all this time you’ve been emailing me with stories of reclusive artists and hard-to-write stories.”

  “I am kind of reclusive.” Tom pointed out, earning a slap in the arm from Ruby.

  “Don’t think I’m done with you, either,” Ruby shook her head at him.

  “It’s not Tom’s fault. I asked him not to tell anybody.”

  “He told the fucking world, Hanna. He wrote a song about your son, for God’s sake.” Ruby’s face fell again, “Yours and Richard’s son.”

  Hanna didn’t bother to deny it. The resemblance was growing along with Matty. His newborn dark hair had fallen out, to be replaced by Richard’s light brown tones. Only his eyes resembled Hanna’s.

  “Can I just get Matty ready for bed?” Hanna pulled her wet, wriggling son out of the bath, wrapping him snugly in a white, fluffy towel. “We can talk when he’s asleep.”

  Ruby’s gaze remained on her nephew, her eyes gentle as she watched him chew at the t
owel. “Sure. I’m going to go unpack. You’ve got half an hour.”

  MATTY WAS ALMOST asleep when she sat with him on the chair, finishing the cup of warm milk she had given him. His whole body was relaxed against her, and she could feel his breathing slow until it reached the cadence of sleep. Only then did she lift him up and place him in his cot, switching on the nightlight and monitor, before padding out of the nursery and gently pulling the door closed behind her.

  She was dreading this. Part of her was so angry with Tom for putting her in this position without any warning. Mostly, she was furious with herself. The situation she’d put Tom in was untenable, particularly if he’d been reconnecting with Ruby. To ask him to lie was completely unfair.

  Hanna walked into the open-plan living room. The evening sun was orange, slowly creeping toward the horizon. It lit the room with an amber glow, reflecting from Tom and Ruby’s skin until they looked almost otherworldly. She watched them for a moment, as they sat close together, heads bent toward each other as they talked. How long had this been going on? They looked way too close for two people who had hooked up in the past few days in London.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Tom stood up and approached her, wearing a conciliatory smile. She attempted a wan smile back, trying to convey that they were okay.

  “I’d love a glass of Sancerre.” She’d actually love the bottle, but she wasn’t going to win any mum of the year awards with that attitude.

  Tom left the room and Ruby stood up, her face youthful in the dull evening light. Hanna felt the pull before Ruby even moved, and within moments they were in each other’s arms, a mess of tears and recriminations, hugs and anger.

  They were sisters. The underlying love pinned them together no matter what.