One Night, One Baby

by Kate Hardy

  ‘What?’ He snapped to full attention. ‘Oh, my God. She isn’t having another abruption, is she?’

  ‘No. She’s in labour. Her waters broke.’

  ‘It’s four weeks too early! She can’t be in labour yet.’

  ‘Don’t panic.’ Hannah was using her soft, professional voice—and that scared him even more. Was she telling him not to panic because something was wrong?

  ‘Lots of babies arrive early and they do just fine,’ she said.

  And some of them didn’t.

  And she’d already had that scare earlier in her pregnancy.

  Mitch went cold. ‘I’m on my way.’ He banged down the receiver, left everything else where it was on his desk, and put his head round his boss’s door. ‘I have to go. My…’ Ah, hell. How did he explain what Jane was? ‘My other half’s in labour and her best friend’s just taken her to hospital.’

  His boss stared at him in shock. ‘What? I didn’t even know you were—’

  ‘It’s complicated and it’s messy and I’m sorry I haven’t explained before. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can. But right now I need to be with Jane,’ Mitch cut in. ‘I haven’t switched anything off—if someone could…?’ He swallowed hard. Every second he was wasting here was a second where he should be supporting Jane.

  ‘Don’t worry about things here,’ his boss said, still looking stunned but clearly thinking on his feet. ‘Good luck. Let us know how things go.’

  ‘Thanks. I will.’

  And then Mitch was running out of the building.

  What was the fastest way to get to the hospital?

  The tube would take too long—whether he went back to the house and picked up his car, or changed from the tube to the overland rail network to get to the hospital. No way was he going to sit while a bus chugged from stop to stop—not that he knew which number bus he needed anyway.

  ‘Taxi!’ he yelled.

  At the third attempt, he managed to flag one down. As soon as he explained he needed to get to the hospital because his partner was in labour, the cabbie nodded and took off through the back streets.

  It wasn’t meant to be like this.

  Jane was meant to wake up with labour pains, call him, and he’d go over to her place, distract her until the contractions were five minutes apart, and then he’d drive her to the hospital himself.

  But their baby had clearly had other ideas.

  He grabbed his mobile and punched in the number of Jane’s mobile phone.

  It was switched off.

  He dragged in a breath. Of course it would be. You were supposed to switch your mobile phone off in hospital. Where was his brain—outer space?

  Oh, God. Please let her be all right. Please let their baby be all right. Please don’t let this all go wrong.

  Every second of the journey—despite the fact that the cabbie wasn’t sticking strictly to the speed limits—felt like an hour.

  And finally they were there.

  Mitch glanced at the display showing the fare, took some notes from his wallet and thrust them into the cabbie’s hand. ‘Thanks, mate. Keep the change.’

  And then he ran through the hospital, not slowing until he reached the maternity department.

  ‘Jane Redmond, please. I’m her partner,’ he said at the reception desk.

  The midwife checked on the screen. ‘She’s in Delivery Suite Two. Come through.’

  The fact he had to walk instead of run in the hospital gave him time to think.

  Time to remember.

  And he felt physically sick.

  His breath hitched. What had happened with Natalie wasn’t going to happen with Jane. He wasn’t going to lose her—or the baby. Everything was going to be just fine. And for Jane’s sake he really had to get a grip.

  Right now.

  When the midwife showed him into the delivery suite, Jane was sitting on the bed with Hannah in the chair by her side. Jane was wired up to various machines, looking white-faced and terrified.

  He was just as terrified, but he knew she needed him to be strong. He slid his arms round her and held her close, stroked her hair. ‘Hey. Everything’s going to be fine. We’re in the right place so there’s nothing to worry about. We can do this.’ He looked at Hannah. ‘Thanks for being here. And for calling me.’

  ‘No worries,’ Hannah said. ‘This is Rebecca, Jane’s midwife.’

  ‘You’re Jane’s partner?’ Rebecca asked.

  Because Jane was letting him hold her, he took the risk that she wouldn’t correct him. ‘Yes—I’m Mitch. Can you tell me what’s happening, please?’

  ‘Because Jane’s waters have broken, we’re monitoring the baby. Everything’s fine. We could wait and see if Jane goes into labour naturally—which most women do within a day or so of their waters breaking—but that does carry a risk of infection.’

  Mitch had to stem the surge of panic. He wasn’t going to lose Jane. Not now.

  ‘But given the abruption earlier in the pregnancy, Jane’s agreed that we should induce the labour. We’re giving her a drug called oxytocin—’

  ‘Through a drip, to help the contractions?’ he finished, on familiar ground now.

  The midwife smiled at him. ‘Sounds as if you’ve been reading up.’

  ‘On everything,’ Mitch agreed.

  Jane stared at him. ‘Since when?’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’ And thank God he’d finished painting the house and putting the furniture together.

  She dragged in a breath. ‘I’m scared.’

  So was he, but he stroked Jane’s forehead, soothing her. ‘It’s going to be fine. Trust me, honey.’

  ‘But the baby’s too early.’

  ‘Lots of babies are born at thirty-six weeks.’ He glanced at Rebecca for reassurance.

  ‘Your baby might need a little while in Special Care to help him or her breathe, but that’s very common and nothing to worry about. We can also give you steroids to help mature the baby’s lungs. But everything’s fine on the monitor,’ Rebecca said.

  ‘Now you’re here, Mitch, I’d better go to work,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Sure. Thanks again for coming to the rescue. Did you bring the hospital bag?’

  ‘I hadn’t packed it yet,’ said Jane. ‘I was going to do that next week.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It’s my first day of maternity leave today and this wasn’t supposed to happen!’

  ‘I know.’ He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb. ‘But we’re here now. Everything’s going to be fine. I can get you whatever you need from the hospital shop.’

  ‘Better than that,’ Hannah said, ‘I’ll tell Charlie what you need, and get her to pack the bag for you.’

  But although Jane’s waters had broken, the baby seemed to have no intention of coming out. Mitch stayed with her, not wanting to leave her even for long enough to buy a sandwich. And he held her hand, wiped her face with a wet cloth, held a cup for her to sip water, and rubbed her back when the contractions grew more painful.

  Finally, the obstetrician came in and examined Jane. ‘I’m afraid labour’s not progressing, Mrs Redmond, and the baby’s starting to show signs of distress. We need to take you to theatre for a Caesarean section.’

  Jane’s face went white and she gripped Mitch’s hand. ‘Don’t leave me.’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘It’s going to be OK. Half an hour and we’re going to meet our baby.’

  Even though his legs felt shaky with panic, he forced himself to look calm and followed the midwife to don a gown and mask and scrub up.

  He held Jane’s hand all the way through the operation. Finally, the surgeon took the baby out—and there was silence in the room.

  A silence that ripped his heart out.

  Please, please, don’t let this be happening. Don’t let it all go wrong.

  And then—after what could only have been seconds but which felt like hours—there was a cry.

  ‘Congratulations,’ the surgeon said. ‘You
have a little girl. Would you like to cut the cord, Mr Redmond?’

  Mitch didn’t bother correcting his name. Their baby was more important. He just smiled, and held Jane’s hand a little tighter. ‘May I?’ he asked her softly.

  She nodded. He cut the cord and held their daughter while Jane was stitched up.

  ‘She needs a little bit of help breathing at the moment, so we need to take her to Special Care,’ Rebecca told them, ‘but it’s very, very common with babies born at thirty-six weeks. She’s looking very well, so there’s nothing to worry about.’

  But it felt strange, going back to the ward without their baby.

  Jane looked exhausted, and was clearly close to tears.

  ‘I’m staying,’ Mitch said. ‘Go to sleep. There’s nothing to worry about because I’m here. And we’ll tell everyone the news tomorrow.’

  When Jane woke, early the following morning, Mitch was dozing in the chair next to her.

  He looked rough.

  Seriously rough.

  His clothes—which he’d worn for a day and a night—were creased, he needed a shave, and there were deep shadows under his eyes.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. He probably hadn’t slept; the chair didn’t look particularly comfortable. But he’d insisted on staying, being there for her.

  Dared she hope it would last?

  But she’d seen the wanderlust in her parents, in her brothers. Mitch would be miserable if he didn’t chase storms. He’d feel trapped. And little by little, day by day, he’d start to resent her.

  It would be better to stop things here. Try and manage on her own.

  Even looking a mess, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

  But she really couldn’t let her heart rule her head on this one. For her baby’s sake.

  When he finally woke, he focused on her. ‘Jane. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine.’ She ached, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘Look—you really ought to go and get some proper sleep. I can manage here.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that. But last night I saw my baby take her first breath. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Meaning that it was the baby he wanted, not her? ‘I think you’d better leave.’

  He sighed. ‘You’ve been through a lot so now isn’t the time for a fight—but you and I are going to sit down and have a serious, serious talk. Very soon. And I’ll call Hannah and get one of them to come over and be with you.’

  Mitch left—but wasn’t gone for that long. He visited her every single day, and as soon as their daughter was out of the special care unit he spent most of the time in Jane’s room cuddling the baby. And the tenderness in his face made her want to cry.

  She couldn’t take his daughter away from him.

  But she didn’t want to be second-best, either. She’d already spent too much of her life feeling second-best—trying to put a brave face on it and not seem as if she minded, but she did mind. A lot.

  Finally, they were allowed home. And although Jane had intended to take a taxi, Mitch insisted on driving her himself.

  She frowned as he parked the car. ‘This is the wrong road.’

  ‘Nope.’

  Oh, no. Was he intending to have this heart-to-heart with her right now? ‘You can’t park here. This is a permit parking zone.’

  ‘I know. And it’s fine.’

  How?

  Before she could argue, he took a box from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here.’

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Your Christmas present. A week early.’ He smiled. ‘Just like you gave me mine a bit earlier.’

  ‘Christmas present?’

  He sighed. ‘Just open it.’

  She undid the ribbon around the flat box, wondering what on earth this was. It wasn’t the right shape for a ring.

  And then she opened it. Saw a key attached to a keyring.

  ‘It’s the front door,’ Mitch said. ‘I’ll give you the back-door key later.’ He got out of the car and unstrapped the baby’s car seat. ‘Come on. It’s going to start raining any minute and I don’t want Chloë getting cold.’

  Still not understanding, she followed him down the path. ‘What’s this about?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re home,’ he said softly, and stood aside. ‘Unlock the door.’

  She did, and he carried the baby inside; then he returned, lifted her up and carried her over the threshold.

  She stared around in amazement. ‘This is your house?’

  ‘No. Ours,’ he corrected.

  ‘But…’

  ‘I’ve been painting for weeks,’ he said with a smile. ‘Come and have a look round.’ He ushered her into the living room. There was a huge Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with lights and baubles and with a pile of wrapped presents beneath it. The baby, in her rocking seat, was sleeping peacefully next to the tree.

  Jane walked through to the dining room and then to the kitchen in silence.

  It was amazing.

  Mitch had made her the home she would’ve made for herself.

  A tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t cry, honey. If you don’t like it, tell me what you want and I’ll change it.’

  Don’t like it? She loved it. ‘You’ve done all this for me?’ she asked, hearing the wobble in her voice.

  ‘I thought I’d show you how much I love you,’ he said softly. ‘This is it. Home. I’ve got a job in London, and the hours are flexible so I can work round whatever you want to do.’ He took a business card from his pocket and gave it to her. ‘See? My office isn’t that far from here. I can pick our little girl up from nursery or school if you want to go back to work.’

  He’d changed his life completely for her?

  ‘Come and see upstairs.’

  The nursery had her in tears again. He’d picked the exact furniture she’d wanted. ‘You did all this yourself?’

  ‘Well—apart from the curtains. I admit Hannah’s mum helped there.’

  ‘Hannah knew about this?’

  He winced. ‘Um. Yeah. Actually, you might as well know the rest of it. Charlie and Shelley helped, too. Guidance on the details—like colour schemes.’

  ‘You plotted all this with the girls.’

  ‘No. I’d already decided that the only way I could show you I was serious about you was to get a proper job and make us a home. They helped me with the details.’

  ‘But—you’re a stormchaser.’

  ‘Was. Last time I came home, it was to tell you something. That I need you a hell of a lot more than I need the storms. That the time drags without you. That I missed you so much it hurt. I just wanted to be home, with you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘But aren’t you going to get bored?’

  ‘No. I’m doing blue-sky work in my new job. And there are always holidays. Where I can take you to see the Northern Lights or a tornado or rainbows across waterfalls—because you’re not the sort who’d want to sit on a beach and do nothing all day.’

  ‘Not my kind of holiday,’ she admitted.

  ‘You’d be wanting to fossick around the nearest church or ancient monument or talk your way into the library of some stately home. Which is fine by me. I can still take pictures of skies.’ He took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. ‘Come and see the rest of the house.’

  There were two more bedrooms: one quite plain, and the other peaceful and feminine. Both, she noted, contained double beds.

  ‘This is my room?’ she asked, gesturing to the feminine one.

  ‘Our room—and this is a bridal bed,’ Mitch said.

  And then he shocked her even more by dropping down on one knee. ‘We seem to do everything out of sequence, so let’s continue the tradition. You’ve had our baby, I’ve carried you over the threshold…so now I think it’s time I asked you to marry me.’
/>   ‘Marry you?’

  ‘Because I love you, Jane. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life. You, me, Chloë—and maybe a little brother or sister. If we’re lucky.’

  ‘You love me.’

  He pulled the velvet-covered box out of his pocket. ‘I bought you this before I came home from the last tornado. And I’ve been carrying it around with me ever since, waiting for the right time. I love you, Jane Redmond. My life isn’t complete without you. Will you marry me?’

  She opened the box to find the most beautiful solitaire stone. It sparkled enough to be a diamond; though maybe that was because tears were shimmering her view, because diamonds weren’t blue.

  She must have said some of it aloud, because he replied, ‘This one is.’

  ‘A blue diamond?’

  ‘I noticed it in the shop window. The same colour as your eyes.’

  ‘And you’ve been carrying it around for months.’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. While I worked out how to show you I meant it. That I love you, and it wasn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to you saying that you loved me. That I wanted to make a proper home for the three of us. So do you believe me, now? Will you marry me?’

  ‘Yes, I believe you.’ She slid her arms round his neck. Held him really close. ‘And, yes, I’ll marry you.’

  ‘There are three little words missing,’ he reminded her.

  She laughed. ‘Four. I love you too.’

  ‘Good.’ He took the ring from the box, kissed the ring finger of her left hand, then slid the ring onto it. ‘The perfect fit,’ he said softly. ‘Just like our life’s going to be.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2033-5

  ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY

  First North American Publication 2008.

  Copyright © 2008 by Kate Hardy.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.