“Do you think so?” I peered intently into the cradle where the baby was beginning to stir. “I was never much good at working that out. I always thought Kensie looked like me then everyone else said she was the spitting image of Will. I still can’t see the resemblance.”
Martha laughed, “well, take it from me, love, this little one has picked up the best features from each parent.”
We fell silent, watching as the little body began to squirm madly, eyes still tightly closed. I sighed, “here we go again. She feeds little and often at the moment because she was premature. At least she sleeps a lot too. Could you …?” I gestured towards the cradle and Martha reached in, just as the first tiny cries started.
I shifted onto my side and guided the groping little mouth to my nipple. Silence descended again and we both heaved matching sighs of relief, making me giggle and Martha snort in amusement.
“She may be a beautiful wee thing but I sure has a good set of lungs,” Martha observed, sitting beside the bed and watching as the baby settled in for her feed.
I laughed, “you can say that again.”
“You seem a little happier than when I saw you yesterday. Not so sore?”
I nodded, “I’ve also done a lot of thinking, made a few decisions over the last couple of days and I feel … lighter, somehow, relieved of some of my burdens.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I looked apologetically at her. “I need to speak to Will first. I owe him that after everything he’s been through.”
Martha nodded agreement, “is it to do with … you know … what happened when you were unconscious?”
I shrugged, “a little, maybe.” Martha had been the only person I’d told about my out-of-body experience through bucket-fulls of tears. I’d then promised myself never to discuss it again.
And I never would but in the darkest recesses of my mind, in my dreams, the experience still haunted me. I’d relived it time and time again. That the memory would fade with time, I had no doubt but for now the grief and anger was still so fresh and raw and the touch of Frank’s fingers so vital on my skin that just the thought of him brought unshed tears to my eyes.
I felt Martha’s hand on mine in support and glanced at my friend, smiling sadly. “Life goes on,” I whispered and placed a gentle kiss onto the head of my daughter.
*
Will sat down on the side of the bed, the baby cradled in his arms, “have you decided on a name yet?”
I touched the little girl’s foot fondly. “Not yet. Nothing seems to suit her.”
Will glanced at me self-consciously. “I did have one thought,” he hesitated then rushed out the second half of the sentence, “maybe you’d like to call her Frances. I mean, it’s a pretty name and she’s a very pretty baby and I’m sure … well, I’m sure he would approve.”
Frances. The feminine version of Frank. A constant reminder to Will that he was not the baby’s biological father.
“Will –”
“I don’t mind, Kate. Not too much, anyway. It’s important she remembers her father.”
The pause before the word father was so tiny that I chose to ignore it, just as I chose to ignore his aversion to mentioning Frank’s name. Will had earned that right.
Will handed me the baby. “Kate, have you thought any more about moving back home? The doctor said you’d need help once you were discharged, at least until the wounds heal.” His eyes automatically glanced at the bandaged gunshot wound on my shoulder, his face going pale at the sight of it. “I’ve managed to twist Carl’s arm and he’s given me a months paid paternity leave, so I’ll be at your beck and call twenty four hours a day. You can’t cope on your own in his house –”
“Her house,” I corrected gently, “it belongs to Frances now.”
Will waved the interruption away, “and it would be really nice to have you back again.” The embarrassment had returned and I raised my eyebrows encouragingly, waiting for him to finish. I’d already made up my mind, knew what I was going to do but it was nice seeing him beg, just this once. Might never get the chance again.
Will cleared his throat, “I’ve … um … made up the spare bedroom into a nursery for Frances. Just in case. There’s a bed in there for you and a cot and toys and Kensie and Tom helped paint it pretty girly colours and –”
I leant forward with a laugh, “you idiot. Of course I’ll come home. I’ll have to get Frances” house tidied up and then rent it out. It should be a nice little money earner for her future.”
Will’s smile reached from ear to ear as he kissed my forehead. “We can make this work, you know.”
“I know,” I smiled and watched him leave. He would pick me up the following day as arranged and at that moment the rest of my life would begin. I had one more night, then. One more night with my memories, one more night with the feel of Frank’s fingers on my skin, one more night with his mouth on mine.
One more night before I had to force him permanently to the back of my mind. There was no room for three in a bed, after all.
I placed the sleeping baby gently into the crib, got myself comfortable and fell asleep imagining butterfly fingers all over my body
*
I awoke suddenly an hour later. The room was dark, just a faint light shining through the window in the door. A figure was leaning over the cradle, placing a gentle kiss on the baby’s head.
“Frank,” I whispered, my heart lightening at the sight of him.
“Go to sleep, my princess,” Frank’s voice murmured. He moved closer, his lips warm on my cheek. Feather-light fingers pushed a stray strand of hair off my face. “Go to sleep, my love.”
And with the gentle touch of Frank’s lips on mine, I fell fast asleep.
THE END
Breach of Faith Page 24
