The Midwife's Miracle Baby

by Amy Andrews

  And there it was. His statement hit her square in the solar plexus. They were only words but they could sure wound. She almost staggered from their impact.

  Claire knew what he meant, felt exactly the same way. Wasn’t that why she had chosen to never have a baby herself? Why she’d even denied herself a relationship, so the temptation to conceive would never be an issue?

  But, still, his statement stung. Any flutterings of attraction she may have felt for Campbell she needed to well and truly quash. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t want her. She couldn’t bear to be rejected twice.

  ‘But it’s not you—is it?’ Claire knew it wasn’t a decision anyone else could make for you.

  ‘No.’ His admission was tinged with regret. He was silent for a moment. ‘Anyway,’ he said, shaking his head and pushing away from the window, ‘You needed something?’

  Claire admired his ability to change focus so quickly. She was having trouble processing their conversation. If she took nothing else away when she left the room, at least she knew where she really stood with him, even if he was completely oblivious to the fact.

  ‘Claire?’ he prompted, and she looked at him blankly. ‘Wait? Maybe you didn’t need anything? Maybe you’ve come to wave the white flag and go out to dinner with me?’

  He laughed and she smiled despite the fog clogging her brain. He recovered easily after such a heavy conversation. He was too quick on his feet.

  ‘Sorry, just a signature,’ she said, handing him the document.

  ‘Alas,’ he mocked as he signed it and gave it back. ‘I haven’t forgotten your little challenge, Claire. In fact, I look forward to it.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ she stated, more calmly than she felt, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

  She made her way back to the birth centre in a haze of mixed emotions. Something was happening to her which she couldn’t define. It was new and unwelcome and scary and all Campbell Deane’s fault!

  Before he’d come into her life she’d had clearly defined goals. Establish a birth centre. Make it strong and successful. Offer a real alternative to the women of Brisbane. Suddenly it didn’t feel enough. She wanted more.

  At least she now knew his views on genetic illness. He’d unwittingly given her the perfect weapon. All she had to do was tell him the truth and watch his interest die. See him run for the hills. Just like Shane.

  But she knew she wouldn’t. She’d made such a habit of concealing it she doubted she’d even know how to start. She didn’t want people to treat her differently. She might have to live with it hanging over her head but she refused to let this disease define her.

  It was her deep, dark, family secret. Her business and hers alone. And now, thankfully, a constant reminder to give Campbell Deane a wide berth.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN Claire arrived at work the next morning a spectacular flower arrangement was waiting for her. ‘Let the games begin,’ she muttered to herself.

  They were absolutely gorgeous. Claire knew they would have cost Campbell a fortune, with exotics like sprigs of wattle, grevillia, bird of paradise and dried rosellas. She fingered the card. Her impulse was to throw it in the bin but curiosity overwhelmed her. That they were from him was a foregone conclusion, but what words had he used to woo her? Romantic? Poetic? Flowery?

  She glanced at the bold, black print. A gasp escaped involuntarily. Claire screwed it up and tossed it in her bin as if scalded.

  LET THE GAMES BEGIN.

  Was the man capable of reading her mind now? She didn’t like it that he’d chosen the same words she’d only just thought. She didn’t want to be on his wavelength.

  Claire reeled in her frantic thoughts. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. And if he thought that flowers would do it then he was sorely mistaken. Ignoring the part of her that loved, adored and appreciated things as beautiful as these flowers, she picked them up and marched them down to Obstetric Outpatients.

  She dumped them in Andrea’s arms, ignoring her surprise and curiosity. ‘This place could do with some nice flowers to make it a little less hospital-like. Shove these in a few vases, will you?’

  Andrea was well used to Claire’s private life being a taboo subject so she didn’t ask. They had become firm friends over the years despite Claire’s reticence over indulging too much personal information. Andrea knew that Shane had hurt her very badly, although Claire had never told her the reason for their break-up.

  Before she could change her mind and snatch them back, Claire turned abruptly and left a stunned-looking Andrea in her wake. Mission accomplished, she sat down at her desk to review her day. Her concentration, however, was shot by the lingering scent of wattle.

  ‘Who were the flowers from?’ asked Pauline, entering the room and sitting at her desk. She was the centre’s receptionist.

  ‘Someone who hasn’t got the message yet,’ said Claire, her voice shorter and sharper than Pauline deserved.

  ‘What did you do with them?’

  ‘I gave them to Andrea down in Outpatients. It’s too clinical-looking down there.’

  ‘Claire,’ Pauline said, with all the exasperated patience of someone who was well used to Claire’s rejection of men. ‘Next time, I’ll have them. We could do with some around here, too.’ Pauline laughed at Claire’s unimpressed look. ‘What poor man are you trying to annihilate with your rejection this time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about this one. He’s got pretty thick skin.’

  ‘Pretty big wallet, too, judging by that bouquet.’

  She was right. Claire was beginning to regret her rash action. She had been too hell-bent on getting them as far away from her as possible to think very rationally. All she knew was that she’d desperately wanted to bury her head in them and inhale their bushy fragrance. And if she’d succumbed to that temptation, she doubted she’d have been able to give them away.

  And then they’d be sitting here on her desk, a constant reminder of him. He may as well be sitting on her desk because she knew that’s all she’d be able to see when she looked at them. His smiling face, his red-blonde hair flopping in his eyes. Eyes that sparkled green and were so easy to read. His impressive physique …

  She groaned and shook her head. No. She had done the right thing. Heaven knew, she was thinking about him enough now and the damn flowers were nowhere in sight. Despite her good intentions, too much of her time of late had been taken up by thoughts of Campbell. Her mind just kept wandering there of its own accord!

  She made a determined effort to put him from her head and mentally braced herself for the day. She crossed her fingers and hoped that their paths wouldn’t cross.

  A very expensive bunch of flowers was an impressive opening salvo in this cat-and-mouse game they were playing. It was certainly going to be followed up. Claire braced herself for that also.

  At ten o’clock Claire wandered into the radiology department and found Lex Craven sitting there, reading a magazine.

  ‘How are you, Lex? Ready to see your baby?’ Claire sat down beside her client.

  ‘I’m so excited. I can’t wait. I hope they’re not running too late, I’m sure my bladder’s going to burst any moment.’

  Claire laughed. A full bladder was required for the scan. It provided a clearer picture of the uterus and the baby within it. Patients were told to drink at least a litre of water prior to their appointment. A big ask for many pregnant women.

  Luck was on Lex’s side when they were ushered in five minutes later. The radiologist, Darren, gave Lex a gown to change into.

  ‘How’s that baby of yours coming along, Darren? He must be six months old by now,’ Claire asked. She had looked after Darren and his wife in Labour Ward and had delivered their son.

  ‘Six months tomorrow. Impressive recall, Claire.’

  Claire laughed. She did seem to have a photographic memory regarding the babies she had delivered. Claire was sure she could remember every baby she’d helped into the world.
The moment of birth was so magical that each baby seemed to be indelibly imprinted into her memory bank. And if, occasionally, a birth did slip her mind, she only needed to refer to her scrapbook at home that had a picture and some basic information on all her deliveries. It was quite thick now, boasting over four hundred photos.

  Lex rejoined them and climbed up onto the narrow bed. Darren pressed some buttons on the machine while Claire helped prepare Lex, exposing what was necessary and keeping everything else covered. Darren flicked a switch and killed the overhead lights.

  ‘OK. Let’s start. Goo first,’ he said, squeezing a generous daub of the warmed gel onto Lex’s tummy. A bright glow emitted from the screen and three pairs of eyes watched as the white static took form and shape as Darren applied the transducer and a twenty-week-old foetus filled the screen.

  Claire took Lex’s hand as she glimpsed tears shimmering in her client’s eyes. Lex squeezed it gratefully and Claire didn’t bother to let go.

  ‘OK, I’m just going to check the placenta first,’ he informed Lex, running the transducer around until he found what he was looking for. ‘Good position,’ he murmured. ‘Now, we start from the head and work down. I’ll be taking various measurements as I go.’

  Darren explained what he was looking at as he went methodically from head to toe. He looked at the brain and took some measurements, satisfying himself that it was the right size. He checked other brain structures and calculated the diameter of the baby’s skull.

  Next he looked at the face, paying particular attention to the mouth and lips, checking for any abnormality. It was a perfect face. Two eyes, two ears, one nose. He moved down further and found two lungs and then visualised the tiny, beating heart. Satisfied there were four chambers and all associated structures were present, he pressed a button and the room filled with the noise of the baby’s strong, regular heartbeat.

  ‘There’s the baby’s stomach,’ Darren informed them, as he moved lower.

  ‘Yeah right. I’ll have to take your word for that,’ said Lex with a laugh.

  Claire knew exactly how she felt. Ultrasound was a specialised field and what was obviously a stomach to Darren looked like a blob of black and white fuzzy nothing to most other people. He found the liver and kidneys as well. The spinal column was thoroughly checked to make sure it was complete.

  ‘All intact,’ Darren murmured, as much to himself as to Claire and Lex.

  The baby was active during the procedure, allowing them a good view of everything. Ten fingers and toes were all accounted for.

  ‘Do you want to know the sex?’ Darren asked.

  ‘Can you tell?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Lex looked at Claire questioningly. Claire shrugged noncommittally.

  ‘I didn’t want to. We discussed it and we wanted it to be a surprise. But … oh, gosh, I can’t believe how tempted I am.’

  ‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ said Darren. ‘We were tempted, too.’

  ‘No. Don’t tell me. Brian will kill me if I found out.’

  Darren took some measurements of the baby’s thighbone next. He entered the data into his machine. With all the other measurements he’d imput, it would now calculate the growth of the baby, its weight and its precise gestation.

  Claire felt tears prick her eyes at the wonder of this developing life, still only half-developed in medical terms but already a fully formed little person being nurtured and protected in the safety of the womb. She felt an ache deep inside, an emptiness that she had suppressed for years, refusing suddenly to be quelled. Watching Lex’s baby on the screen, Claire felt a yearning begin and then intensify.

  What was the matter with her? Babies had been part of her working life for over a decade. When had they started to get to her like this? At twenty, after her mother’s diagnosis, Claire knew she would never allow herself to bring a baby of her own into this world. It had been difficult to come to terms with, but she’d felt she hadn’t really had a choice.

  Maybe she hadn’t taken the appropriate time to grieve? For someone who loved babies as desperately as Claire did, never achieving motherhood was a real loss. Losses needed to be mourned. She should have cried, but she hadn’t. She should have railed against the fates, but she hadn’t done that either. She’d felt immensely sad but had moved on with her life. Forged a career.

  Was she doing it now? Grieving? Was that what was happening to her? And why now? What had happened to trigger it? And then Campbell poked his head in the door and something deep inside her knew it was him. He was responsible for this discontent. She shut her mind to it. She didn’t want to go there.

  ‘Here you all are,’ he said cheerfully, closing the door behind him, along with the bright outside lights that intruded into the darkened room.

  ‘Campbell,’ said Lex, delight in her voice. ‘Come and look at my beautiful baby.’

  Campbell did as he’d been bidden and admired the ultrasound images, oblivious to Claire’s turmoil.

  ‘Beautiful. Absolutely, no doubt.’

  Claire raised her head to discover him staring at her. His look immobilised her. Even breathing was difficult when he looked at her with such hunger. Claire blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture that had dewed her eyes. It was too late. He’d seen it. She could see his eyes narrow with concern. Even in the gloom he was very easy to read.

  ‘Looks like you’re spot on, Lex,’ Darren continued. He was so focused, Claire doubted he’d even registered Campbell’s presence. Pity she couldn’t say the same for herself. ‘Twenty weeks and one day, according to the calculations.’

  With the scan over, Darren flicked the lights on and Claire helped Lex down from the narrow bed. She rushed off gratefully to relieve her full bladder. Darren left the room to retrieve the video recording for Lex. Campbell, his back to the wall, watched Claire.

  ‘Clinic smells nice today,’ he commented casually. ‘Wattle, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, I thought it could do with a few humanising touches.’

  He laughed and she ignored him.

  ‘Where will you send tomorrow’s flowers?’ he asked, amusement in his voice.

  ‘I was hoping you’d get the message today.’

  He looked at her with a bemused expression. There would be flowers tomorrow. And the next day and the day after that … until she surrendered.

  ‘Pauline, our receptionist, has first dibs.’

  He laughed harder and Claire was drawn to the way his hair flopped forward, almost in his eyes. He looked so little-boy endearing, she had to quell an urge to ruffle it. He wasn’t a boy and this wasn’t child’s play.

  ‘You can send me flowers from here to Christmas, Campbell, I won’t be changing my mind.’

  ‘I thought women liked receiving gifts?’

  ‘Well, I guess that depends on the motive of the sender.’

  Lex re-entered the room, out of her gown and looking more like herself.

  ‘Darren’s going to leave the recording at the desk,’ Claire said.

  ‘Oh, fantastic. Brian was so disappointed he couldn’t be here. He’s going to be rapt when he sees it. I just hope I remember everything.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said Claire, waving goodbye. ‘See you in a few weeks. Take care. Ring if you have any problems.’

  ‘You know,’ Campbell said after the door had closed behind Lex, ‘when I first arrived, I could have sworn you looked like you were about to burst into tears. For an awful moment, I thought something must have been wrong with the baby.’

  Claire remained silent.

  ‘You looked so … stricken.’

  ‘I did not look stricken,’ she snapped. Had she looked that bad? Had it been that obvious?

  ‘Whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, I was pleased just to be able to read any sort of emotion in your face.’

  ‘Oh, so I’m cold now?’ she asked waspishly.

  ‘No. You’re just … guarded. What made you that way, Sister West?’

  ‘Life.’


  ‘Why haven’t you got a couple of babies of your own?’

  Campbell’s question caught her completely off guard. It hit her like a sledgehammer to the heart. She gasped and stared at him, dumbstruck. Had he seen that much? Could he have guessed the cause of her tears?

  ‘Maybe I don’t want any.’ Her heart pounded loudly, each beat mocking her. Liar. Liar. Liar.

  ‘I don’t believe that. C’mon, Claire, you’ve immersed yourself in babies for years. You don’t do that if you’re indifferent.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She forced a light note into her voice. ‘I’ve witnessed labour first-hand many times. I’ve seen how much it hurts. I’m not silly.’ She smiled a fake smile but Campbell was clearly unconvinced. ‘Just because I’m a midwife, that doesn’t mean I’d be a good mother.’

  ‘I don’t believe that either.’

  ‘Since when is this any of your business, anyway? How would you like it if I asked you such prying questions?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  Claire glared at him. Typical. Trust him to call her bluff. Stubborn, exasperating man. ‘Fine. Why haven’t you had children, Campbell? Or don’t you want them either?’

  ‘I can’t wait to have kids,’ he said and grinned. ‘I think I’d be a fantastic dad.’

  Claire had to agree with him there. He would make a great dad. She should have known he’d want children. But he wouldn’t want her children. Her children with her mutant genes.

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’ she asked, trying to keep a bitter edge from her voice.

  ‘Haven’t found the right woman yet. Well …’ He winked. ‘Until now.’

  ‘Argh! Campbell!’ She stalked to the door and yanked it open. The conversation in here was getting too uncomfortable.

  ‘I told you I was obstinate.’ Claire caught his words just as the door closed behind her and shut him out of her sight.

  * * *

  Obstinate was a good word, Claire acknowledged after two weeks of floral gifts. Every morning a bunch of flowers, each more exquisite than the last, greeted her. Gorgeous, expensive creations that were increasingly difficult to give away. She did, however, part with every single bloom.