She’d been fast asleep.
‘What...?’ It took a moment to collect herself. ‘Sorry. Just...catching up with a quick nap between patients.’ She checked her watch and relaxed. She had ten more minutes before she was due in Radiology.
But Morvena was still staring at her, and Addie could see calculations going on in her head. Fast calculations.
Uh-oh.
‘There were no babies born last night,’ Morvena said. ‘No call-outs.’ If anyone knew this, it was Morvena who had a finger on the pulse of the whole hospital. ‘Why do you need to catch up on sleep?’
‘I just...didn’t sleep last night.’
‘The lights were out in your cottage. All night.’
Honestly, was there anything this woman didn’t know? Addie decided it wasn’t worth a response. She rose and carried her mug to the sink, busying herself washing it. With her back to Morvena.
But she knew, reply or not, she was faced with the inevitable.
And here it came. ‘You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?’
Go away, Addie wanted to say. This is nobody’s business—nobody’s baby—but mine. Admitting it to an outsider seemed fraught. Everything seemed fraught.
The scan just minutes away seemed terrifying, and now this...
She set her cleaned mug on the bench and held her hands to her tummy. She refused to turn around. She was holding her baby to herself. Holding hope.
‘It’s Dr McPherson’s,’ Morvena said.
It wasn’t a question.
That took her breath away. She counted to ten, not because she needed to control what she was going to say but because she couldn’t think of what to say.
‘Leave it, Morvena,’ she managed at last. ‘Dr McPherson’s due to leave in two weeks. It’s hardly helpful to start rumours now.’
‘I’m starting no rumours,’ Morvena retorted. ‘I’m stating facts. He’s looking grim as death. You’re falling asleep all over the hospital. I’m losing an excellent surgeon and I have an obstetrician who can’t keep her eyes open. If that’s not my business I don’t know what is.’
‘I’m fourteen weeks. I should be getting over fatigue soon.’
Oh, for heaven’s sake, why had she said that? She should have denied it. Morvena had quizzed her before about the paternity of her ectopic pregnancy and she’d admitted the IVF treatment. She should have implied it was more of the same.
But it was too late now. Morvena’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fourteen weeks...’ She could see her doing mental arithmetic and finding the answer. ‘I’m right, then. And you moved out of the doctors’ house because...’
‘Because it was a mistake. Because neither of us want—’
‘Well, that’s nonsense,’ Morvena said briskly. ‘You both want. Here you are, buying a dog that distracts the running of the entire hospital, when what you want is home and hearth and babies. And so does he.’
‘Morvena, I don’t. We don’t—’
‘Nonsense. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you.’
‘He has enough on his plate. Do you know—?’ She broke off, aghast. The court case was definitely not for public consumption.
‘About his little girl? Of course I know. And not because I snoop,’ Morvena said briskly. ‘He takes phone calls at the end of the veranda, and my office is just through the window. I acknowledge I shouldn’t know, but I’m not stupid. I know why he’s looking grim. I also know why he’s looking at you like he is.’
‘Morvena, enough.’ She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She glanced at her watch. ‘I need to be in Radiology in five minutes.’
‘For your own appointment. I saw.’
‘You have no right—’
‘I have every right. It’s part of my job to check Frieda’s appointments. If no one’s booked in, it’s my job to tell her not to come. When I saw your name I worried it was for something serious. Until I thought about it a bit more.’
‘Morvena...’
And then, amazingly the woman softened. ‘It’s okay, my dear,’ she told her. ‘I’m not about to shout it abroad. So you’re off to have a fourteen-week scan. Is Noah going with you?’
‘I... No.’
‘You haven’t told him you’re having the scan?’
‘It’s nothing to do with him.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because it can’t be.’ It was practically a wail, and suddenly it was as if a dam broke. ‘Morvena, what if I’m in love with him? I won’t let him take care of me because I need him. I won’t. We’ve both been in relationships like that and it scares me stupid.’
Whoa.
How much had she exposed? What had she just said?
And to whom? Because suddenly...it wasn’t just Morvena.
She stared blindly at the nurse manager, but as panic receded she became aware of a shadow behind. Blocking the doorway.
Noah.
What had he just heard? Beam me up, Scotty, she pleaded with the universe. Where was a time machine when she needed one?
‘You know,’ Morvena said, quite conversationally, ‘I just remembered there’s a rumour about a puppy in the kids’ ward. If you’ll excuse me, I have rules to enforce.’ And she had the temerity to grin. ‘Dr McPherson, I believe you have sense to enforce things as well. This woman’s in love with you even if she won’t admit it. Anyone who tells someone as grouchy as me that they might be in love...well, once upon a time I was foolish as well, and it got me a loving husband and a couple of children who are just as foolish as their mother was. Sometimes foolish is altogether sensible. I’ll leave you both to it.’
And she had the effrontery to chuckle, a sound almost unheard of from Morvena, as she bustled away to do her duty.
Leaving Addie with Noah.
How long had he been there?
‘I... Is Daisy...?’ She was struggling to breathe, much less talk. Her fast-growing pup seemed the safest—the only option. ‘Is Daisy in the kids’ ward?’
‘Daisy might have been in the kids’ ward,’ Noah said, his voice carefully neutral. ‘I believe she might now be in Men’s Surgical.’ By rights Daisy should be in her playpen but increasingly the friendly pup was ‘borrowed’ at need. Keeping her out of the wards was a task even Morvena seemed to be giving up on.
‘I... I have to go,’ Addie tried.
‘To have your ultrasound.’
‘How long were you standing there?’
‘Long enough. Sound carries down corridors and Morvena’s never been one to lower her voice.’
‘I...’
‘Addie, would you like me to come?’
And it was exactly the wrong question. Or the right question?
Would you like me to come? No pressure.
All the pressure in the world.
If he’d said I want to come, she’d have handled that. But would she like?
‘I don’t need—’ she managed.
‘Let’s leave need out of it,’ he said, his voice suddenly rough with emotion. ‘Let’s focus on what we want. Addie, you’re about to have an ultrasound that is important. Fourteen weeks... It’ll tell you if there are any problems you need to face—that we need to face. More probably, it’ll tell us that we have a healthy, normal baby settling down to grow for the next two trimesters. I would like to be there. No, I want to be there. There’s no need involved, only desire. But you’re right, we’ve both been pushed in directions that weren’t our choice and I won’t do that to you. I will not. So trust me or not, this is the time to say it. What do you want?’
What did she want?
She wanted her baby. That was her one inviolate truth. Her hands were still on her belly, as if she could protect that truth from any outside threats simply by holding.
Was Noah a threat?
Somehow s
he’d made him out to be, but he was standing in front of her now and she looked into his face and what she saw...
It was just... Noah.
A colleague.
A friend.
An honourable man.
A man who’d held her and made the outside world disappear.
A man who could love her baby as much as she did. She knew that.
A man who could love her?
It was too soon to think that. Panic was still there, rearing its ugly head in the background. To let go...
But she didn’t need to let go. Not completely. All he was asking was to say what she wanted right now.
Did she want him to be with her at the ultrasound?
The scan she’d had at five weeks had shown nothing except the position of the pregnancy. Her baby had been the size of an apple seed. She had a chart of baby growth versus fruit sizes that she showed her pregnant mums. They liked it and so did she.
At this scan her baby should be the size of a lemon. Or a peach? Peach, she thought. She liked the image.
An image...
She’d see it. At fourteen weeks her baby could be sucking a thumb, wiggling toes. It’d be real. If everything was okay...
If something was wrong, could she bear it? Even now, the fear was still with her.
Did she want Noah with her?
And the answer came back, as clear as day. Yes, she did.
And more.
She didn’t want him because she needed a support person. She didn’t...need.
She wanted him because she knew he wanted this baby as much as she did. This baby meant love to Noah as well.
Love...
It was a concept she was having trouble getting her head around, but it was present, somewhere in this utilitarian staffroom with its noisy refrigerator and uncomfortable chairs and its unwashed coffee mugs. Mrs Rowbotham was always having forty fits about medics who grabbed coffee on the run and didn’t clean up.
She’d cleaned hers, she thought inconsequentially.
Love...
Noah was waiting. Calmly. Whatever she said, he wouldn’t push.
Did she want him to be there for the ultrasound? Did she want him to share?
‘Yes, please,’ she whispered, and then, more loudly, ‘Noah, yes, please, I’d love you to come.’
Normal was a strange word. It sounded dull, plain. It didn’t begin to describe how she felt as she lay and let the ultrasound wand stroke her belly.
Normal?
It was a fabulous word.
Frieda was talking them through what she was seeing, obviously enjoying their wonder.
‘I’m counting vertebrae. Every single one in place. Gorgeously normal. Head circumference...within normal limits. Great. Head down, beautiful presentation, though there’s lots of time to wiggle. Now sex... You know at fourteen weeks it’s hard. I’ve seen a lot of ultrasounds and I could hazard a guess but—’
‘No.’ The word came from both of them at exactly the same time. Addie looked up at Noah and he looked down at her and then they both looked at the screen. And Noah’s hand suddenly slipped into hers and gripped, hard.
She lay and watched the faint movement on the screen. Her baby—their baby—was trying to kick. And Addie was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, grinning and grinning because who couldn’t grin in the face of such joy?
Normal.
What was normal about a perfect baby?
What was normal about a guy holding her hand? Her baby’s father.
Noah.
Sharing her joy.
‘I’ll write the results up, but everything’s wonderful,’ Frieda was saying, and Addie thought ‘wonderful’ was an even better word than ‘normal’. Or maybe they were the same. ‘Would you like a print of the image? Or I could copy the file and send it to you.’
‘Yes,’ they said again, once more totally in unison, and Noah chuckled and Addie found herself doing exactly the same. Frieda was wiping lubricant from her belly. The scan was done.
Time to release Noah’s hand?
No. And that was a unilateral decision as well.
His grip firmed. He helped her to sit up, then moved in to hug and Frieda had to manoeuvre past him.
‘I do love a happy ending,’ Frieda said. ‘Or a happy beginning. Welcome to your second trimester, Dr Blair, Dr McPherson and baby.’
And that felt great, too.
Maybe all parents felt like this. Maybe this was normal?
Normal.
She was getting to love that word. If the feel of Noah’s hand in hers could be...normal...
It was still too soon, she told herself, a trace of fear rearing its ugly head, so she didn’t say it. But as she dressed, as Noah opened the door to the outside world, he took her hand in his again and she thought...
Normal could be just plain awesome.
* * *
But the outside world was waiting.
She was floating in a bubble of euphoria but the moment they emerged she felt Noah stiffen.
The X-ray department had two entrances, a door leading back into the hospital and another for outpatients, opening to the veranda. They’d emerged to the veranda because why wouldn’t they? The sun was shining, the sea was sapphire and sparkling to the horizon, and the world was waiting.
But something else was waiting.
A car had just pulled into the staff car park, a white sedan with government number plates. A middle-aged woman, dressed in a smart black business suit, was emerging from the driver’s seat.
She opened a rear door and helped a child out. A little girl dressed in blue dungarees and crimson trainers. She had deep black hair, tied into two pigtails with red-checked ribbon. Her face was broad, her big round eyes looking cautiously out to see where she was.
And even from the veranda, Addie could tell...
* * *
Sophie.
She knew even before Noah dropped her hand and strode—and then ran—down the steps, across the car park, to scoop the little girl into his arms. She knew, even before the little girl clung, her little arms going around his neck, her face burrowing into his shoulder.
‘Papa...’ the child said, wonderingly, and something very like a sob broke from Noah. His face was in her hair. He was holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Just holding.
Love... The word was all around them.
This child wasn’t Noah’s, Addie thought, dazed. This was Rebecca’s child, foisted on him...
No, not foisted. He’d taken her willingly, more than willingly.
Because she needed him?
No. There was nothing even close to obligation on Noah’s face. There was only joy.
He turned with the little girl in his arms. He smiled across at Addie and she saw the glimmer of tears on his face.
She still wasn’t sure what was going on. There was an official Government Family Services logo on the car. The woman—a social worker?—was standing back, smiling, but she was holding a clipboard. Official business?
‘Sophie, this is my friend, Addie,’ Noah told the little girl, and the child gave her a long, considering stare before burying her face in Noah’s shoulder again. Noah kissed the top of her head and then turned back to the woman by the car.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and there was such fervency in the words that Addie could only wonder.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she ventured, increasingly unsure of her place. ‘I... I have patients to see.’
‘Wait,’ Noah said. ‘Addie, this is important. Stay for a moment. Can you come and meet Sophie?’
So she allowed her legs to carry her down the steps, to where Noah stood hugging his little girl, while the woman in the suit beamed her approval in the background.
‘Addie, this is my Sop
hie,’ Noah told her. But as Sophie kept her face in his shoulder, he smiled and turned to the lady with the clipboard. ‘And this is Dianne, Sophie’s social worker. And risk taker and miracle worker.’
‘Wow,’ Addie managed, and was offered a hand in greeting and took it. ‘That’s some recommendation.’
‘She deserves it and more,’ Noah told her. ‘She’s won me my Sophie.’
‘I don’t understand.’ There was a lot she didn’t understand. The depth of her lack of understanding was bottomless.
‘Sophie’s foster father had a heart attack last week.’ Noah was still hugging Sophie, talking over her head, speaking softly so he wouldn’t startle her. ‘Her foster mother has been by his bedside ever since. There are no short-term carers available right now. I’m not permitted access, so Sophie had to go into a group home. She went into meltdown. As her case worker, Dianne had to make the arrangements but she hated seeing how confused and upset Sophie was. And she also knew I was here, loving Sophie, adoption papers lodged, court case pending, aching for access.’
‘It was exceedingly unsatisfactory.’ The social worker spoke briskly, holding her clipboard before her as if to make everything businesslike. ‘Noah’s been acting as much as a father as he’s been permitted to for five years. We know he wants custody. He ticks every box as far as suitability goes, yet Sophie’s mother has the rights. It was frustrating everyone, and when her foster arrangements fell through it became a crisis.’
‘I can’t bear to think...’ Noah said, and his voice cracked.
‘It was only for a week,’ Dianne said soothingly, seeing the emotion on Noah’s face. ‘But things did become untenable. Sophie was disintegrating at the group home, withdrawn, not eating, sobbing her heart out, and there seemed nothing we could do. We’re well overstretched in the department but finally I...we...took the time to go through her case notes since birth. I only joined the department eighteen months ago so a lot of it was new to me, but I realised there were inconsistencies between Rebecca’s statements as to her ability to care for her, and Rebecca’s obvious ability to function in the community. I made...subtle enquiries and exposed Rebecca’s miscommunication. Finally the question solidified. Why don’t we simply take her back to her mother?’
The Baby They Longed For Page 15
