The Baby Swap Miracle

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘You must miss him.’

  She smiled again, a gentle smile that really got to him. ‘I do,’ she said honestly. ‘He was my best friend. We had so much fun together, and we had so many plans—not just for travelling. He wanted to live in Clifton one day, he said, in one of the tall town houses overlooking the suspension bridge, and fill it with children. We argued about that.’

  Sam frowned. ‘The children?’

  ‘Oh, no, the town house. We both wanted children,’ she said, and then gave a wry little laugh. ‘Ironically, I wanted to live in the country and teach in the local primary school.’

  ‘You could do that here, maybe, one day,’ he suggested quietly, and he watched what could have been hope, and then caution, flicker through her oh-so-expressive eyes.

  ‘If I’m still here.’

  He didn’t like that. The idea of her leaving seemed wrong, somehow, and he thought they’d got past that, but maybe not. He could ask her to marry him, of course—except it wasn’t that easy. She still missed James—and he wasn’t sure he’d want to marry her anyway. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t—but anyway it was out of the question. They’d be doing it for all the wrong reasons, and that was a thoroughly lousy idea. And anyway, she’d probably say no.

  He drained his tea and stood up. ‘I have to go—I’ve got a call coming in. Have you had lunch?’

  ‘I don’t need lunch,’ she said, standing up too and handing him the mug. ‘I had a banana earlier and I’ve just had three biscuits. I’ll carry on for a while, then I’ll stop. Don’t worry about me.’

  Easy to say, not so easy to do. Especially when he could see her from his desk struggling with a recalcitrant rose bush. She pricked herself and sucked her finger, and he had to shut his eyes and fight off the mental images.

  It was yet another phone call he scarcely got the gist of.

  She slept well again that night, and she found after a couple of days that she was used to her little cottage. Not only used to it, but loved it. She didn’t even close the curtains now. Who was to see? She was woken every morning by the sun on her face, and as she went to bed at night, the last rays of the sun would streak through the other window and paint the room in pinks and golds.

  It was, as Emily had said, a beautiful place to be, and she’d settled in surprisingly well, even though it was a little lonely. She could cope with that, though. After the claustrophic atmosphere with Brian and especially Julia, to be alone was precious, and goodness knows she saw enough of Sam in the day, fussing over her like a mother hen.

  He was picking her up on Monday morning to take her to the hospital for her scan, and she found herself studying the contents of her wardrobe. Silly. She needed trousers and a top that would pull out of the way. Not pretty, impractical clothes that in any case she didn’t own!

  She sat on the bed with a short, defeated sigh. She really, really needed an income. Doing the garden for Sam was all very well, but she had to buy clothes, and it wasn’t a case of want, it was a case of need. Her bump was growing rapidly, her bras didn’t fit properly and she simply had to address it.

  But how? There was no way she was asking Sam for help, he’d done more than enough.

  Shaking her head, she stood up, pulled out the only pair of decent trousers that still went round her and a top that still more or less fitted, and put them on. She’d have to ask Sam to take her to a shop on the way home. Somewhere cheap.

  There was a knock at her door, and she tugged the top straight and went to open it. Sam was standing with his back to the door, studying the area outside the cottage, and he turned to her with a smile.

  ‘Morning. All set?’

  ‘Just about. Let me find my shoes and grab my bag and I’ll be with you.’

  She was back in seconds, and he waved his arm at the bit of wall beside the front door.

  ‘You could do with a bench here, couldn’t you?’ he said. ‘Somewhere to sit and have a cup of tea in the sun first thing in the morning. And a table and chairs for the garden, so you can eat outside if you want. I meant to get them, but I just haven’t got round to it.’

  ‘Are you sure? It would be really nice,’ she said, imagining that early-morning cup of tea in the company of the squirrels.

  ‘Of course I’m sure,’ he said easily, opening the door of the BMW for her. ‘OK with the hood down?’

  ‘Fine. It’s a perfect day for it,’ she said, scraping her hair back and twisting a band round it to hold it as they set off, then went on, ‘On the subject of furniture, you could do with something in the rose garden, as well. On that bit of flagstone paving outside the French doors. It’s crying out for a nice table and chairs.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘It is. I’ve thought that in the past but there didn’t seem to be any point until now. I could sit there and have breakfast and read the papers over a coffee.’

  ‘Is that your decaf coffee?’ she teased and he shot her a wry grin.

  ‘That’d be the one. So shall we do that after your scan? And we can have lunch out somewhere. There’s a pub by the river that does the best scampi and chips.’

  ‘Sam, I’ll be like a house!’ she protested, and then bit her lip as she remembered she’d been going to ask about clothes shopping.

  ‘What?’ he said, tipping his head on one side and studying her briefly as they paused at the gate. ‘I am like a house,’ she said frankly. ‘I need clothes. I’m—sort of growing.’

  His eyes dropped to her bump, and she felt her cheeks warm at his thoughtful stare. ‘I suppose it goes with the territory,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen a mother and baby place close to a garden centre that sells really nice outdoor furniture. We can do it all at once.’

  He pulled away, problem apparently solved to his satisfaction, and she rested her head back and closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face and the wind ruffling gently around her as they meandered slowly along the lanes. Magical. Perfect.

  For a while he said nothing, then he broke the silence.

  ‘About the scan,’ he said, and she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Will they be able to tell the sex of the baby?’

  It was something she’d been pondering on—not whether or not they could tell, because she knew they could, but if she wanted to know. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They should be able to.’

  ‘So—do you want to know?’

  She nibbled her lip thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure. On the one hand it makes it easier to buy things, but it doesn’t really matter unless you’re going to indulge in a mega-fest of pink or blue, but maybe—I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘It’ll make it much more real if it has a sex, much more of a person. A son or daughter, instead of just a baby. And then if anything went wrong…’

  ‘Nothing’s going to go wrong,’ he said, shocked at how much that thought disturbed him. ‘Why should it? People have babies without any problems all the time.’

  ‘But if it did—’

  ‘If it did,’ he said gently, ‘it would break your heart, Emelia, whether you knew the sex or not. It’s obvious how much you love it.’

  He was right, she realised, but there was still a bit of her that thought it might be tempting fate—which was silly, and the baby was very real to her already. Of course it would break her heart if anything happened. Knowing the sex wouldn’t make the pain any worse.

  ‘I take it you want to know?’ she asked, and he turned his head and gave her a wry smile.

  ‘It’s not really my place to dictate it,’ he said, but she could see from his eyes that he would rather know.

  ‘Can we see how I feel at the time?’

  ‘Of course.’

  But it was a moot point, because it was a 3D scan, and by the time the sonographer had focused in on the baby, it was blindingly obvious.

  ‘Oh! It’s a boy!’ Emelia gave a little gasp and put her hand over her mouth, and she felt Sam’s fingers tight
en on hers.

  A son, he thought numbly as the reality of it hit him like an express train. I’m having a son—a mischievous little boy to climb the trees and race headlong down the slopes and fall and skin his knees, so I have to pick him up and carry him to Emelia so she can kiss it better, because it has to be her—

  ‘Sam?’

  He blinked, suddenly aware of the hot prickling sensation behind his lids and a lump in his throat the size of a house.

  He turned to her, and found tears welling from her eyes. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said again, her voice unsteady. ‘We’re going to have a boy!’

  He hugged her. He couldn’t help himself. He gathered her up in his arms, cradled her to his chest for a breathless, emotional second, then with his arms still round her, they watched the rest of the scan together. The fingers and toes, the heart, the eyes—it was incredible. His son—their son.

  He felt a tear slide down his cheek, but so what? Seeing his son like this was the most incredible experience of his life, and if he couldn’t let his emotions show—well, it was just wrong.

  He hugged her again, his arm tightening round her shoulders, and she looked up and gave him an emotional smile. ‘Oh, Sam,’ she whispered, stroking away the tear with a gentle hand, her fingers lingering on his cheek. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

  We’re going to have a boy!

  ‘Me, too,’ he murmured, his eyes back on the screen, fascinated by the image of his son’s face. ‘Me, too.’

  They were given a DVD of the scan, and a couple of photos, and as they left the hospital he still had his arm round her.

  ‘Coffee or shopping?’ he asked.

  ‘Shopping. I’m saving myself for scampi and chips,’ she told him with a grin, so he drove through the town to the outskirts and pulled up in a retail park. Outside a shockingly expensive baby shop.

  Damn. She was going to have to buy something, but this really wasn’t the place she had in mind—

  ‘OK, before you argue,’ he said, cutting the engine and turning to her with a stern look, ‘you’ll need a certain amount of money to live on every month, and you’ll need to work out your budget, so if I give you what I feel is reasonable for the restoration of the rose garden and the knot garden, you can do it in your own time, you’ll have the money to see you through and you can budget accordingly. Fair?’

  She swallowed and nodded. ‘Very fair. How about the rent?’

  ‘Forget the rent. The place was standing empty and probably would have done for months.’ And he named a figure for the garden restoration that made her mouth drop open in shock. ‘Sam, that’s—’

  ‘Fair,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s that or nothing and it’s less than one of the quotes I’ve had. If you don’t like it, I’ll get someone else to do the garden. Take your pick.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back—’

  ‘No. And I’m buying your clothes today. What you do after that is up to you—and would you for goodness’ sake let it go!’ he growled as she began to protest, but he was sort of smiling and she leant over to kiss his cheek, giving in because after all he could afford it and he really seemed to want to.

  But the kiss was a mistake. His jaw was firm, and his cheek, slightly roughened by stubble, grazed her lips and left them wanting more. She straightened up and pulled away.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, a little breathlessly, and he nodded, smiled tightly and got out of the car.

  ‘Come on, let’s shop.’

  She was nothing like Alice.

  He knew that, but watching her flick through the racks of clothes, checking the pricetags and wincing slightly, was a revelation. She chose carefully—things that would last, things that would see her through to the end, now. Not nearly enough, he thought, but there was always another time. And there was one dress she’d hesitated over, and he’d seen the indecision in her eyes before she’d taken a deep breath and added it to the inadequate pile.

  He watched her run her fingers longingly over the end of a cot, then move on to a much more economical version. Not that there was anything particularly economical in the shop, but the quality was good. They’d come here for the baby equipment nearer the time, he decided, giving her space while she checked out the underwear and went to try things on. And he wouldn’t let her argue.

  But he could still feel her lips against his cheek, see her fingers trailing over the cot, and he wondered what they’d feel like trailing over him…

  He pretended interest in a sort of pram thing that changed into a chair and a car seat and a carry cot, and an obliging assistant came and told him all about it. Not that he cared, but it took his mind off Emelia…

  She headed for the changing room with the bare minimum to tide her over until she went shopping herself. He’d said he was paying for these things, so she’d selected a few, but only just enough to look convincing.

  They were lovely, though. She’d tried to be practical, but there was one pretty dress she’d just had to have. She’d pay him back when he’d given her the—utterly ridiculous—payment for the garden restoration. But it would be worth it. It was gorgeous, and she felt beautiful in it. Elegant and sophisticated and feminine, instead of first cousin to a heffalump.

  She took it off, reluctantly, and put it with the underwear and tops and trousers that she was having, and he paid without a flicker of hesitation, ushered her out of the door and took her to the garden centre across the car park.

  An eyewatering amount of money later, he’d chosen the furniture, paid for it and arranged delivery, and they were heading for lunch.

  And about time, because her stomach was grumbling and she was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

  Or, maybe, she acknowledged, that was just being with Sam!

  ‘We ought to think of names,’ she said, when they finished eating.

  ‘Max,’ he said instantly.

  ‘Max? Why Max?’

  He shrugged. ‘It goes well with Hunter.’

  ‘Or Eastwood.’

  He felt himself frown. ‘Eastwood?’

  ‘Well, it’s my name.’

  ‘To be strictly accurate, it’s James’ name,’ he reminded her softly, and her eyes clouded.

  ‘I know. But I don’t want the baby having a different name to me. It makes things so difficult at school.’

  ‘Was that what you found after your mother remarried?’

  ‘A little. I was older, of course. Max is going to start out with his parents having two names.’

  ‘You said Max.’

  She smiled. ‘So I did. OK, I like Max. He looks like a Max. What would you have wanted if he’d been a girl?’

  ‘Esme,’ he said without hesitation.

  ‘Esme?’ she said, laughing. ‘That’s awful. Esme Eastwood.’

  ‘I think it’s pretty.’

  ‘I don’t. I rather liked Alice.’

  She watched the laughter die in his eyes, and he put his empty glass down and stood up.

  ‘It’s a good thing it’s a boy, then,’ he said, and strode off towards the car park. She drained her glass, stood up and followed him thoughtfully.

  Who on earth was Alice?

  She got into the car, opened her mouth to ask and thought better of it. He was staring straight ahead, and she’d pretty much worked it out anyway.

  So she said nothing, and he drove her home, dropped her off and disappeared for the rest of the day.

  Nothing more was said, and anyway, it was none of her business.

  He’d tell her when he was ready, she thought, and just got on with her life. The weeks went past, and she settled into a routine of working, resting and pottering happily in her home, and she sorted out her life.

  She was booked for her delivery in the hospital where she’d had the scan, and the midwife had recommended an antenatal class, so she’d signed up, starting in a few weeks.

  The bench outside her cottage was delivered, and it was a master stroke by Sam. She drank her tea on it every morning, and got to k
now the squirrels that played up and down the beautiful ancient oak tree nearby.

  And she saw the badgers, after she’d been there about six weeks. She was disturbed in the night by shrieking and squabbling outside her bedroom window, and when she sat up in bed, slowly so as not to alarm them, she saw three youngsters tussling with each other on the grass in front of the cottage.

  They were just feet away, and she watched them for several minutes, fascinated, until in the end they shambled off and left her in peace. She was still smiling when she fell asleep again, and she smiled now, thinking about it, as she told Sam in one of their impromptu little breaks in the shade.

  ‘You’re lucky. I’ve heard them, but I’ve never seen them,’ he told her, and it was on the tip of her tongue to suggest he should come over and watch for them when she thought better of it. Sam sitting up with her in the dark seemed like a bad idea. Too cosy. Too intimate. Too dangerous. It was hard enough in daylight while she was working in the garden and he’d come and sit with her for a few minutes—sometimes at the new table, sometimes in the shade under the old apple tree or in the rose arbour, depending on the time of day and the strength of the sun—and fed her treats. Wicked cookies or tiny sandwiches or sometimes, if it was very hot, slices of watermelon or crisp, juicy pear, washed down with tea. Iced green tea with lemon on the hot days, piping hot normal tea otherwise.

  It made her rest, and it made her feel cared for, and he took a real interest in her work. He knew more about the plants than she’d imagined, and not only that, he wanted to learn. He cared, both about the history of the garden and its future, and sometimes he even came and worked alongside her for a while, if he was at a loose end or she was struggling with something particularly tough.

  And now, because there was only so much he could do in the house until the English Heritage people had made their recommendations, he’d turned his attention to the grounds.

  ‘So what are you doing today?’ she asked him.

  ‘I’m going to rebuild the gatepost,’ he announced. ‘I’m sick of seeing it like that, with the gate hanging. I might even get Dan to take the ivy off the wall so we can read the name of the house.’