The Icelandic Doc's Baby Surprise

by Louisa Heaton

  ‘Yes. Where did you go? I was worried when you weren’t here.’

  ‘I left you a note.’

  ‘You did? Where?’

  ‘On the fridge.’

  ‘I didn’t see it.’

  She went into the kitchen and saw that on the floor, almost out of view, was a green sticky note that must have fallen off the fridge earlier.

  ‘Found it!’

  He’d followed her into the kitchen, opened the fridge and was taking a huge glug of orange juice. ‘How are the ankles today?’

  ‘Oh, much better after resting, thank you.’

  ‘You’re feeling okay?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She watched him. He’d come in carrying a bag, and now he picked it up and headed into his own room. He certainly was a mystery man.

  ‘Where did you go?’ she called.

  ‘For a swim.’

  ‘In this weather?’ she asked in surprise.

  He emerged from his room. ‘Geothermal pool. Keeps you nice and warm.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t know you swam.’

  ‘I do on occasion.’ He smiled and grabbed his jacket. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was a little weird this morning. She could feel the tension between them after last night. It had been hard to lie in her room, staring at the bedroom ceiling, knowing that just a few metres away Kristjan lay in his own bed, wishing he was in hers!

  She’d wanted him there too, if she were brutally honest, but her logical mind had kept telling her that it was a good thing that he wasn’t. That he had done the honourable thing. Because this situation wasn’t about them satisfying their lustful urges for each other—this was about the baby and nothing more. If there’d been no pregnancy she wouldn’t even be here. She never would have seen him again! He wouldn’t have given her a second thought!

  No, it was good that he was being sensible—because they both needed to be. Right?

  Even if, looking at him right now, she could easily imagine what it might be like to throw caution to the wind and satisfy those urges that she was feeling towards him. She could rip off his jacket and push him up against the wall, begin pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers and feel those rock-hard abs once again, and the heat of him in her hands, and...

  ‘Let’s go to work.’

  She nodded, hoping her hot flush wasn’t visible. Work was a good idea. They couldn’t do anything at work.

  At least that was what she kept repeating to herself as they tramped through the snow towards the hospital.

  * * *

  The department was busy, which was good, because it kept her occupied and kept her thoughts away from Kristjan. She’d sutured the arm of a twelve-year-old, diagnosed a four-year-old with asthma and another with chicken pox, and now she was seeing to a seven-year-old girl who’d been brought in by her mother because she’d been up all night with tummy pains and being sick.

  It could simply be a bug, but children were very good at compensating when there was something else going on in their bodies, and it paid to be thorough. Merry had quickly come to realise that a mother’s instinct was usually not wrong.

  Would she have that herself? Was it something you learned or was it truly instinctual? She’d followed a hunch before, believed that Mark was her soulmate, that he would treat her as the love of his life until they were old and grey, and she’d got that wrong.

  ‘I’m just going to have a feel of your tummy, Ingmar—is that okay?’

  Ingmar nodded, looking pale and teary-eyed.

  Merry observed the abdomen and then began to palpate. It quickly became apparent that Ingmar had pain over McBurney’s Point, indicating that something was going on with her appendix.

  ‘I think you have appendicitis—which means, Ingmar, that we’re going to have to take the appendix out.’

  Ingmar looked at her mother, terrified.

  ‘Surgery?’ the woman asked.

  She nodded at the mum. ‘I’m afraid so. It’s the safest option. If the appendix ruptures it can cause considerable pain and further difficulties. We need to act sooner, rather than later. When did she last eat?’

  ‘About six o’clock last night,’ Agnes translated.

  Over twelve hours—that was good. It would lessen any risk with the anaesthetic.

  ‘Good. Okay, so nothing more to eat now, but she can have sips of water if she wants. I’ll get a nurse to come and insert a cannula, and get some extra painkillers on board, and then I’ll get the surgeons to come down and have a chat with you both.’

  ‘Okay...’

  ‘And I’ll come and check on you in the ward afterwards, when it’s all done. You’ll be absolutely fine, Ingmar. You’re in good hands.’

  She laid her hand on the little girl’s and gave it a quick squeeze, knowing exactly how Ingmar felt. She’d felt terrified herself when she’d had to have her own appendix out, aged twelve. Back then she’d already been looking after her mum, who had been in a wheelchair, and though Merry had been frightened about the pains she’d been having, she’d thought they were period pains, and had simply stayed quiet until she’d collapsed at the bottom of the stairs.

  It had been a terrifying time, but she had lain in the hospital ward worrying more about her mum than herself.

  Would Kristjan be at her bedside when she gave birth? Would he hold her hand and help her through her contractions? Would he care and fret and worry over her the way her mother had?

  Or would he only be there because of the baby? Because that was what he had said when they were at Ingrid’s restaurant last night. That was the true connection between them. The lust and desire they felt was just an urge they both wanted to scratch. Once the itch was gone, what would be left over?

  He was on the phone at the doctors’ desk, asking for a porter to be bleeped, and she waited for him to get off the phone before asking him her question.

  ‘Do you want to be at the birth?’

  He blinked. ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Right. Okay.’

  ‘Do you want me at the birth?’

  She tried to picture it. Being in pain, struggling through contractions for hours and hours, puffing on gas and air. Doing it alone, with no one at her side, would be...horrible. She could hire a doula, but it wouldn’t be the same as someone who cared. And she thought that he did—even if it was just for the baby.

  ‘I do,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘Good.’

  She looked down at her booted feet. It was okay.

  ‘Have you ever had your appendix out?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ever been in hospital and had to have surgery?’

  ‘No.’

  So he didn’t know what it was like, then.

  ‘But I’ve sat by lots of bedsides until my patients have woken up and I can know that they’re okay.’

  Yes. She could imagine him doing that. He was attentive. She would give him that.

  ‘You’ll be a good birth partner, then?’

  ‘I’d like to think so. Does that mean you’ve decided to stay?’

  She took a moment to think about it. Had she made a decision? It would be hard to say yes, but a part of her really wanted to. Because then the responsibility for this new life would be shared, and she would have someone in her corner again. She’d forgotten what that was like...

  I want to be loved.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  * * *

  There were carollers in the hospital, in the main foyer, standing beneath the Christmas tree. They wore dark coats, red scarves, and each of them had on a Santa hat with a fluffy white bobble. Their beautiful voices were soaring to the heavens like angels.

  Merry stood listening to them, imagining the carollers who had found her outside a vicar
’s house and what they must have thought...thinking of how carollers had always held a special place in her heart. They went from home to home to try and bring a little pleasure to people by singing their favourite Christmas tunes. It was probably why she’d so easily joined in with the singing at The Elf Foundation.

  Right now they were singing an Icelandic version of ‘Silent Night’, and she wasn’t sure whether it was the music, or whether it was the lead female singer, whose voice was absolutely amazing, soaring above the rest, but she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.

  It was such beautiful, heartfelt music.

  She felt hands upon her shoulders and turned to see Kristjan there, just standing, listening to the singing, too.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she asked wistfully.

  ‘It is. I thought you didn’t like Christmas?’

  She smiled and sniffed, wiping away her tears. ‘I’m warming to it. And carollers have always been special to me.’

  ‘Because they found you?’

  ‘If they hadn’t done what they chose to do I could have died out there in the cold.’

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She could feel his thumbs caressing her back.

  They didn’t need to speak. They just stood there, watching and listening, as the carollers went from ‘Silent Night’ to ‘O Holy Night’ and then ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’.

  Merry let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him. ‘I need to go and check on my patient. She should be out of surgery now and on the ward.’

  ‘The appendectomy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  They rode up in the lift together silently, with Merry very much aware she was in a contained space with Kristjan. He tended to fill small spaces—or at least, to her, he seemed to. It was hard not to be aware of him when he was around. But after the other night, and the way he had held her as they listened to the carol singing just now, it was as if she could still feel his hands upon her body. She craved more of that, and the fact that she knew he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her... Well, that just added to the tension.

  It was a nice tension. Electric. Sexual. Her body tingled nicely in anticipation and there was something about knowing she was carrying his child that made her want him even more. She felt that maybe her feelings were moving beyond the sexual too. She liked him. Really liked him. She liked being around him. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. His smile warmed her...she found herself craving more.

  But it was madness to think that they could create a decent relationship between them. Because he didn’t do romance, or girlfriends, and she refused ever to get involved romantically with a man again. A relationship based on sexual attraction would never last, because lust never lasted, and if they screwed up the nice little friendship they’d got going on right now they’d never forgive themselves. Not when both of them wanted this baby to be brought up by two parents.

  The lift doors pinged open and they headed to the recovery ward. Ingmar was in the first bed, with a nurse beside her taking her observations.

  ‘How is she doing?’ asked Merry.

  ‘Very well. Temperature and blood pressure are normal. She’s just starting to come round.’

  ‘How long before she makes it onto Olaf Ward?’

  ‘A couple of hours.’

  ‘Has the surgeon spoken to the parents?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Merry watched as Ingmar’s eyelids flickered slightly before she went back to sleep again. It would take her a few moments to come around properly but children tended to sleep well after anaesthetic. The most important thing was that all had gone well.

  She had no other patients in the recovery ward to check on, so she thanked the nurse and headed back to the lifts.

  ‘I had my appendix out when I was twelve,’ she said.

  Kristjan raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I remember being really worried about my mum, because she was going through a bad patch with her health.’

  ‘A bad patch?’

  ‘She had Motor Neurone Disease. She was diagnosed in her early forties with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Was it difficult?’

  ‘Incredibly. I didn’t know what to do, you know...? I was meant to be looking after her. Yet there I was in a hospital bed and she was having to cope at home all by herself.’

  ‘A child shouldn’t have to have such responsibilities.’

  ‘I know—but I did. And it ended up giving me my purpose.’

  ‘Medicine?’

  She nodded. ‘My mother tried her very best, even when she was at her absolute worst. I hope that I’m able to be the best mother I can be at all times.’

  ‘As long as everyone does their best...that’s all we can ask for.’

  ‘Do you think my birth parents did their best? When they abandoned me?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘I have to hope so. Hope that their own situation wasn’t optimal for raising a child and they gave you up so you’d have something better.’

  ‘But why abandon me in the cold? Doesn’t that strike you as uncaring? They could have left me at a hospital, or a fire station, or at a doctor’s surgery.’

  ‘Try to look on it with positivity. You may never know the real truth, so you have to choose to believe you were left where they knew you would be found quickly.’

  ‘You’re more forgiving than I.’

  ‘It’s something I learned to do long ago. Forgive the world.’

  He was very sage, but since getting pregnant she’d begun to wonder about her real family. What might she be passing on to her baby genetically? She had no idea.

  ‘I wonder how my child will remember me?’

  ‘I’m sure they will love you very much.’

  She smiled, grateful that he was trying to keep her cheered.

  ‘You’re worried about the baby, aren’t you?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘I think I’m more worried about doing it right. Being a mother.’

  ‘We’re doing everything we can to make sure he or she is given the best start in life. To make sure that our child is loved and cared for.’

  ‘Are we?’

  She wasn’t sure if they were. She was still dithering, after all, about staying in Iceland. If she truly wanted to give their baby the best start and both parents wouldn’t she have decided to stay by now? Would it be enough for her just to be a co-parent with Kristjan? Or would she spend a lifetime yearning for more, because her fear of loving him was too great?

  He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled gently at her. ‘We are, Merry.’

  She still wasn’t sure. Something felt very wrong and she couldn’t identify it yet. Kristjan’s certainty was niggling her and she felt a wave of irritation sweep over her.

  Just what the hell was she doing? She’d come all this way to Iceland to tell a man he was going to be a father and then go home. She hadn’t intended to do any more than that. Didn’t need a man to tell her what to do, and yet she had allowed Kristjan to persuade her to stay until the snow cleared. Then he had asked her to stay on after that and give up her life in the UK, and she was actually considering it! After vowing never to let a man call the shots in her life again! Here she was, pandering to what Kristjan wanted! She was making the same mistake again. Allowing her attraction to a man to muddy her thinking.

  She took a step back. ‘This is wrong.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘This. The whole... This! I need some space. I need some perspective. I need...’ She saw the surprised look on his face. ‘I need to get a clear head. Kristjan. I need to go home.’

  ‘What? I thought you were going to—?’

  ‘Stay? Yes, you thought that becaus
e I agreed to it and because I thought I had no choice. But staying here with you isn’t allowing me to think straight!’

  ‘Merry...’

  ‘No! This is too much! Working with you, living with you, and now I’m going to raise a baby with you? It’s too much, too fast!’

  He let out a breath. ‘You’re panicking.’

  ‘You bet your life I am!’

  ‘What can I do to make this better?’

  ‘Nothing! It’s not up to you to make this better! It’s not up to you to fix. I need to sort this out on my own!’

  Kristjan stared straight at her. ‘Why?’

  She stared back, suddenly deflated. Confused. ‘What do you mean, why?’

  ‘Why do you have to sort it on your own? Could it be because that’s what you’ve always done? And because this...this sharing responsibility with someone else...feels odd? Terrifying?’

  How did he know? How did he know that she was scared?

  Tears began to fall. From somewhere he produced a handkerchief and then he was guiding her over to a set of chairs.

  ‘I’m scared, too. You think I know what I’m doing? I don’t. But neither does any new parent. There’s no manual here. There’s no set of rules. Everybody makes it up as they go along, from minute to minute.’

  Merry felt as if she was about to start hyperventilating, her breathing was coming so fast.

  ‘That’s the whole point! I can’t get this wrong. I can’t...’

  She could no longer speak. Her breathing was too rapid and she was beginning to feel faint. Her hands were tingling with pins and needles and her chest hurt. It was as if there wasn’t enough air.

  ‘Merry?’

  She flapped her hands in front of her face, to get more oxygen, but nothing seemed to be working and she couldn’t speak to tell him.

  But somehow he knew, and he scooped her up in his arms once again and backed through the doors to the recovery ward, laid her on a bed and got an oxygen mask over her mouth.

  ‘Breathe for me, Merry. Breathe... You’re having a panic attack.’

  She clutched that mask as if it was her only lifeline in the world, sucking in huge lungsful of air as if it was her last ever chance.