The Baby Swap Miracle

by Caroline Anderson

  Sam was waiting for her in the car, and as she closed the front door behind her, he got out and came round and opened the car door for her, his hand touching her shoulder gently.

  ‘All right?’ he asked, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she lied, trying to hold it together at least until they were off the drive. ‘Can we go?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He slid behind the wheel, fired up the engine and pulled smoothly away without another word, as if he realised how hard she was finding it.

  She blinked a few times, glanced back in the wing mirror at the receding house, and then fixed her eyes firmly ahead. That was what she should be concentrating on—the future. Not the past. The past was gone. Over.

  ‘Want a coffee?’

  ‘Not here. Let’s get right away first.’

  He nodded and concentrated on the road, and as they cleared the town boundaries, she turned her head towards him and gave him a fleeting and probably rather wobbly smile.

  ‘Sorry. End of an era.’

  His eyes were gentle and concerned, and he nodded. ‘I saw a woman go in. She looked a little upset. Was that Julia?’

  ‘Yes. I—um—I said more than I meant to, but maybe it was as well. We cleared the air. She asked me to forgive her.’

  ‘And did you?’

  She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I said I’d try. I don’t know. I have to let go, and to do that I have to forgive her, don’t I? You can forgive without excusing.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. ‘Sometimes you just have to move on in whatever way you can.’

  It wasn’t a good time in my life.

  Was that what he’d been doing when he’d bought the house? Moving on, in whatever way he could? Poor Sam—but he seemed confident he was doing the right thing now, so maybe she shouldn’t feel sorry for him, even if he had lost his dream…

  When they got back he carried her things up to her bedroom for her, refusing to let her lift any of them, and when she started to put them away, he stopped her.

  ‘Leave that for now. I’m starving and we never did get coffee.’

  ‘Oh. Well, you go ahead, I’m not really hungry.’

  ‘Emelia—’

  ‘Please, Sam,’ she said, and then her voice cracked and the tears she’d been holding down for hours now spilt over and coursed down her face.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he murmured, and she felt him gather her up into his arms, cradling her face against his chest as he led her to the ottoman and sat down with his arms round her, rocking her gently as she cried.

  It felt so good to be held by him, so safe. And today had been such an awful day…

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered unevenly. ‘It was just really hard. There were so many memories—’

  ‘I’m sure there were. You don’t need to apologise,’ he murmured gruffly, smoothing her hair with his hand and wishing there was something he could do to ease the pain she was feeling. But there wasn’t, because he was the cause of it, in a way, or at least the facilitator that had enabled the clinic to make the mistake. Without him, she wouldn’t have become pregnant, and she and Julia and Brian would have parted company in a much more gentle way, without this tearing grief that was threatening to destroy them all.

  All he could do was be there for her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m OK now,’ she said, easing away and swiping the tears from her cheeks. He pulled a tissue out of the box beside the bed and handed it to her, and watched with a frown as she mopped herself up. ‘What an idiot,’ she mumbled, feeling stupidly self-conscious now as he studied her.

  ‘You’re not an idiot,’ he said gruffly, dropping down onto his haunches in front of her and taking her hands in his. ‘You’re a brave and wonderful woman, and I’m immensely proud of the way you conducted yourself today. You were gracious and dignified, and it can’t have been easy.’

  She felt her eyes fill again, and she gave a little laugh that was half-sob. ‘Would you stop being nice to me for a minute?’ she protested, and he chuckled and straightened up.

  ‘Sure. I’m starving. Stop snivelling and let’s go and find something to eat. There’s a little café near here. They do the best carrot cake in the world.’

  ‘That’s just empty calories.’

  ‘Rubbish. It has carrots,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then. What are we waiting for?’ she said, and without even bothering to look at her blotchy, tear-stained face, she headed for the stairs.

  ‘So, have you thought any more about the cottage?’

  She put another little forkful of cream topping in her mouth and shook her head. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘It just all seems too tidy. Too easy.’

  ‘Maybe easy’s OK just this once. Things don’t have to be hard for the sake of it, you know.’

  She gave a short laugh and met his eyes, and he could see the wariness in their red-rimmed depths. ‘Oh, they do, Sam. Why would anything be easy when it could be difficult—even if it seems it at first?’

  She was right. Sometimes when things appeared easy, they were anything but. Take Alice.

  On second thought, don’t bother. This was nothing like the situation he’d found himself in with Alice, and he knew that, although there were similarities. But they were superficial, and the reality was light years apart. Emelia was warm-hearted and kind and considerate, and Alice was a cold, calculating bitch and he’d had an extremely lucky escape.

  ‘So—you were saying you needed to sign on with a doctor and sort out your antenatal care, so wouldn’t it make sense just to settle here and then you can get all that under way? You’ve got enough going on without making it all harder for the sake of it.’

  ‘But—Sam, I’ll make friends at the antenatal class. I know people who’ve done that and they and their families have been friends for years. My mother’s still friends with someone she met at her antenatal class, and I’m still in touch with her daughter. So I want to know where I’m going to be long term before I sign up for everything.’

  ‘And it can’t be here?’

  She sighed. ‘I need a good reason.’

  And he wasn’t good enough. Of course not. They didn’t have a relationship—not like that. But it was gradually dawning on him that he wanted them to. That he wanted to give it a try, to see if this attraction he felt for her might be reciprocated, or if it was just him falling—yet again—for a mirage.

  Probably.

  But the baby would still be there.

  ‘The baby’s a good reason,’ he said, latching on to fact and ignoring the variables. ‘I meant what I said about being involved in its daily life. And it’s a great part of the world. Just think about it. You could do worse than to live around here. Promise me you’ll think about it.’

  ‘On one condition,’ she said, making him instantly suspicious. Alice had been a great one for conditions.

  ‘What?’ he asked warily.

  ‘I want another coffee.’

  He gave a huff of laughter, called the waitress over with a twitch of his eyebrow, and to her relief he let the subject of the cottage drop.

  They finished their coffee and headed back to the house, and she went straight upstairs to sort her room out.

  ‘Are you OK doing this, or do you need a hand?’ Sam asked, making her pause on the stairs and look back down at him. He was being so kind, but she’d taken enough of his time today—and oddly, she felt she could cope now.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him gently. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Shout if you need me.’

  Hmm. She wouldn’t think about that.

  As soon as she’d finished she went out into the rose garden to enjoy the last of the afternoon sun and study the garden. Or at least she’d meant to, but she got a little distracted.

  Sam found her there a little while later, resting on the bench, and came and sat down beside her.

  ‘I wondered where you were. I’ve h
ad a phone call from Emily and Andrew. They’re coming over now.’

  ‘Oh. They’re back safely, I take it.’

  ‘Yes. They got back earlier but they’ve only just opened their post. They had a letter from the clinic, and they rang me about it.’

  ‘Did you tell them about the baby?’

  ‘Yes—was that all right?’

  ‘Of course.’ She stood up, a little stiff from sitting on the hard bench. ‘So when will they be here?’

  ‘About half an hour? Less, probably.’

  ‘I’d better wash my hands and put on some clean jeans.’

  He smiled and reached out a blunt, strong finger and stroked her cheek. ‘You might need to get the mud off your face, too,’ he teased gently, ‘unless it’s a new beauty treatment?’

  ‘Of course,’ she retorted. ‘Very good for the complexion.’

  ‘I must try it some time.’ His lips quirked and he looked at the weeds on the ground, then took one of her hands in his and studied it with a little frown. ‘You’ve been busy.’

  ‘I’ve been clearing round the roses. It can’t have been done for years.’

  ‘It hasn’t. Don’t overdo it.’

  She shot him a look and brushed her hands off on her jeans. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not being stupid.’

  ‘Good. I’ve put the kettle on. They shouldn’t be long now, it took me a while to find you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you what I was doing, but I just got carried away,’ she confessed with a smile.

  He searched her face, saw the strain of the morning had gone, replaced by a tranquil peace that suited her far better.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said with a smile, and ushered her towards the French doors that led to his study. ‘Come on, you need to spruce up a bit. You’ve got vegetation in your hair.’

  ‘It’s my woodland look. I thought I’d audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ she told him mischievously, and he felt a tightening in his gut. God, she was gorgeous. Her skin was kissed by the sun, and her eyes were shining and she looked—

  She looked out of bounds.

  He closed the French door firmly. ‘I’ll see you in the kitchen when you’re ready,’ he said, and strode off, leaving her to tidy up while he took himself back into the kitchen and gave himself a serious talking to.

  Andrew and Emily arrived just as she was coming down the stairs, and Emily hurried over and hugged her, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Oh, Emelia, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, her heart fluttering a little, guilt and other mixed emotions tumbling through her as she hugged Emily back.

  ‘Oh, gosh, look at you! I haven’t seen you for ages, and it really shows now!’ Her eyes welled over, and Emelia bit her lip and hugged her again.

  ‘Don’t. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.’ She could feel her own tears welling, and tried hard to blink them away, but she’d been dreading this conversation and Emily was sobbing and it was more than she could cope with.

  ‘Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just so sorry it’s not James’ baby—’

  ‘No. Don’t be. I’ve got things to tell you about that, things I’ve only just found out myself, but I just feel so gutted for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Emily led her over to the stairs and they sat down on the bottom step together, still hanging on. ‘Why would you feel gutted for me?’

  ‘Because it could have worked this time! There’s obviously nothing wrong with Sam, and this should have been your baby—’

  ‘Don’t. Don’t beat yourself up, Emelia. It’s happened, and OK, I didn’t get pregnant this time, but you lost your chance forever—’

  ‘They lied,’ she said, cutting in, and told her what she’d discovered about James’ consent.

  ‘Oh, that’s dreadful!’ Emily said, her face going pale. ‘Oh, thank God I didn’t get pregnant. That would have been so awful. They would have wanted the baby and I couldn’t have—’ Her eyes filled again, and Emelia hugged her as she collapsed in another bout of tears.

  ‘Shh, it’s all right,’ she murmured, hoping it was true, and as she lifted her head she met Sam’s concerned eyes.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he mouthed, and she nodded and tried to smile. It was a brave effort, but he was glad to see it, and he took Andrew into the kitchen, leaving the two women alone together while he filled his brother in on the recent events.

  ‘So what the hell are you going to do now?’ Andrew asked. ‘I mean—you’re having a child, Sam, and I know how seriously you take that. We’ve talked about it enough times. Are you going to ask her to marry you?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he snapped, and then rammed a hand through his hair and apologised. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s been a difficult couple of days. But—no, of course I’m not. We don’t know each other, and anyway, she’s still grieving for James.’

  ‘But even so, she’ll still need help and support, Sam.’

  ‘Of course she will. And I’ll give it to her.’

  ‘And the child?’

  ‘Of course the child!’ he snapped, and Andrew arched a brow reprovingly.

  He gave a heavy sigh and leant back against the range, pushing the kettle back onto the hotplate to boil. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, of course I’ll support the child. I want to be involved with its life. I need to be. So she can’t go far away. I’ve offered her the cottage.’

  ‘And will you be all right with that?’

  ‘I’ll have to be, won’t I? It’s happening, Andrew, we’re having a baby. I can’t duck out of it, and I don’t want to. Anyway, what about you guys? Did you have a good holiday?’

  Andrew’s smile was sad and twisted something deep inside Sam. ‘Actually, we did. We talked a lot—something we’ve not really been doing, and we came to the conclusion we’d give it a year or so before we try again—but that was before we knew about this. And you may feel differently now. In fact, we think you have been, for a while.’

  His brother’s words shocked him slightly, but as he opened his mouth to deny it, he realised there was an element of truth in what he’d said. He had been having reservations, and he certainly didn’t know how he’d feel now about being a donor for them. About giving them a child who would be half-brother or -sister to this child Emelia was carrying. His own child. A child who’d call him Daddy.

  Hell. He swallowed hard. Did that change anything? He wasn’t sure, but he realised now that he needed to think it through again, and he was deeply grateful to his brother for making that so easy for him, for opening the way to him to back down if he felt he needed to.

  ‘Can I think about it?’ he asked slowly.

  Andrew sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Of course you can. It was only ever your choice, Sam. We don’t want you to feel under pressure. And to be fair, we aren’t sure about trying again. We’re considering adoption.’

  He nodded, glad they were giving him time, because that aspect hadn’t even occurred to him. And he realised it should have, because this could signal the end of the line for Emily and Andrew’s dreams.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy coming to terms with what’s happened I didn’t see the bigger picture.’

  ‘Hey, it’s OK, bro, it’s a lot to take in. You worry about Emelia and the baby, let me worry about us.’ He propped himself against the wall and met Sam’s eyes again. ‘So how’s Emelia taken it?’

  ‘OK, I think, but we’re taking it pretty much hour by hour at the moment. She’s trying to decide what she wants to do when the compensation comes through, and we’re still…’ He hesitated, ‘arguing’ on the tip of his tongue, gave Emelia a wry smile as she walked into the kitchen with Emily and went on, ‘discussing where she’s going to live.’

  Weren’t they just, Emelia thought.

  ‘She can come to us,’ Emily said, picking up a biscuit off the plate on the table. ‘Can’t she, Andrew?’

  ‘Yes, of course
she can, if she wants to,’ he said, but Emelia could see reluctance in his eyes, and she thought of the upheaval a house guest could cause under normal circumstances, never mind a house guest who was having a baby that by rights should have been theirs!

  ‘I don’t—sweet of you though it is. It wouldn’t be fair on any of us.’

  ‘I’ve offered her the cottage,’ Sam said, and Emily jumped on it, her eyes lighting up.

  ‘Oh, Sam, what a marvellous idea!’ she said, going over to him and hugging him. ‘I’d forgotten all about it, but you’d be close to the baby, and you’ll be able to see it all the time! It’s the most perfect solution. Oh, Emelia, you’ll love living there! It’s so pretty—is it ready yet?’

  She shook her head, still resisting. ‘I have no idea. And besides, I’m not sure if I want to be that close.’

  ‘Whyever not? And anyway, where else would you go—unless you do come and live with us? Would you rather do that? Because you can. You don’t have to be noble.’

  ‘No, Emily, I’m not being noble,’ she said gently. ‘You’re only being kind. You don’t want me—truly.’

  Emily opened her mouth to deny it, then smiled a little sadly. ‘It might be hard.’

  ‘Of course it would. Don’t be silly, I’ll be fine. I’ll find somewhere.’

  ‘But—the cottage—’

  ‘Leave it, Em,’ Andrew said softly, and she floundered to a halt and nodded.

  ‘So—are you letting that kettle boil dry, or are you going to make some tea?’ Emelia said with a wry smile, and Sam returned the smile and shrugged away from the front of the range and made the tea as instructed, wondering how she could behave with such grace and dignity in the face of all this mayhem.

  ‘So—about the cottage.’

  Emelia put the last of the biscuits back into the tin and snapped the lid back on before she answered him.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I thought I could take you to look at it.’

  She bit her lip and hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I can’t afford to pay you rent, Sam, and you were going to use it.’