by Kate Hardy
‘It’s much too early to start worrying about that,’ Georgie said, giving her a hug. ‘And your Mollie’s a fighter. We got her back after her heart stopped, so let’s take it one day at a time for now.’
* * *
Mollie was still touch and go the next day, but her father had flown in from the oil rig to be there with his wife and baby. On her breaks, Georgie went in to see them with coffee and sandwiches.
‘Thank you, that’s kind of you, but I can’t face anything,’ Mollie’s mum said.
‘I know you’re worried sick,’ Georgie said, ‘but you need to keep your strength up. Both of you. You’ll be no good to Mollie if you keel over, will you? Eat.’
Though there was a nasty moment later in her shift in the ward round, when Georgie was checking Mollie’s obs and the little girl’s heart rate started dropping; thankfully, by the time she’d grabbed Ryan to come and help, Mollie’s heart rate had gone back to where it should be.
‘Sorry. I wasted your time,’ she mumbled when they left the room.
‘No, you did the right thing,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else?’
Yes. I want you to stop being so ridiculously stubborn and give us a chance.
But she knew it was pointless even trying, and she wasn’t going to let him reject her again. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said coolly, and went back to doing her ward round.
* * *
Normally, Ryan didn’t take his work home with him.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about little Mollie. The terror in her mum’s eyes when she’d realised how serious the situation was. The way Georgie had been so calm and so kind, patiently going over things again whenever either of Mollie’s parents asked her to explain something.
And it wasn’t just being a good doctor. Georgie, he thought, would make a great mum. He’d watched her on the ward with their sick patients, and she seemed to have a knack for knowing just when a little one wanted a cuddle or a story. She made time to do it, too, even if it meant she missed a break or had to eat her lunch while she was catching up with paperwork.
Georgie would be at the heart of any family she made.
She was good with Truffle, too. Even though she’d had little contact with dogs before coming to Scotland, she’d made an effort with his Labrador, learning how to play games to distract the dog and tire her out while she was on enforced rest. Just as she’d be with a fractious child.
‘You treat her the way that other men would treat their child. You’ve told me yourself that she’s your family...’
Her words to him, that awful morning, came back to haunt him.
Did he treat his dog as if she was his child?
And did it follow that maybe, just maybe, he might know how to be a dad?
‘You’re putting all these barriers in the way, but they’re not as big as you think they are.’
Was she right about that, too? Was he worrying too much? Could he overcome his resistance and just let himself be loved, be part of a family?
Every time he’d tried it, it had gone wrong. And he knew he was at fault, because he couldn’t let people close.
But was Georgie right in that all he had to do was reach out? Was it really that simple?
Did he want a family?
This felt like picking a scab. Sore, stupid and a waste of time. He had to stop thinking about it, he told himself.
Except he couldn’t.
He kept wondering. Did he want a family? Did he want a family with Georgina Jones?
He was beginning to think the answer was yes.
And he needed to find the right time to tell her. Reach out. Ask her to be his.
* * *
Two days later, Ryan reviewed Mollie’s obs. ‘I think we can try taking her off sedation today,’ he said. ‘If I’m not happy with the way she reacts, I’ll put her back on sedation for another day or so, but let’s give this a try.’
Georgie joined him for the procedure and checked that Mollie was managing to breathe adequately on her own; and between them they monitored her while she woke.
Had there been too much damage before she’d gone on the ventilator, or had she turned a corner? Ryan’s heart was in his mouth. After Truffle had gone missing, he had a much better idea of how hard situations like this were for parents.
Yeah. He knew now that Georgie was right about that. For him, Truffle was just like the child he’d refused to make with Zoe. He’d worried himself as sick over a simple operation as Mollie’s parents had over something much more complicated.
Like it or not, he was a dad. Of sorts.
Finally, the baby opened her eyes.
‘Talk to her,’ he said to Mollie’s mum.
‘Mollie? It’s Mama,’ she whispered, her voice thick with tears.
When the little girl smiled, Ryan felt tears of mingled relief and joy pricking his own eyelids. He looked over at Georgie and saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, too.
He knew there was still a way to go, but it looked as if Mollie was going to make it.
If only, he thought, he and Georgie could make it. Because seeing the love between Mollie’s parents, seeing how they’d supported each other in a crisis and watched over their precious, desperately wanted child...it had made him think. Made him want. Made him think that maybe he’d been wrong to keep that distance between himself and Georgie, that maybe he should’ve given them both a chance.
She’d be an amazing mum. And maybe she could teach him to be a good dad. A good partner.
Could he let Georgie close, the way he hadn’t been able to let Zoe close?
But she was so professional with him, at Hayloft Cottage as well as at work. She kept her distance. How, then, could he find the right words to tell her that he’d changed his mind, that he’d made a mistake and wanted to try things her way?
Maybe he needed to make a huge gesture. Hire a skywriter to say, Forgive me, I was wrong, I want to make a go of it.
He wanted to tell her. He just didn’t know how. And the thoughts just kept spinning in his head.
* * *
Mollie progressed so well during the next week that she was able to go home. Georgie had just finished the discharge process when she realised that she was feeling odd. There was a weird metallic taste in her mouth. Was she going down with some kind of virus?
She shrugged it off, but a bit later on she noticed that her breasts were feeling tender.
It took the rest of her shift to realise that, actually, there might be a different reason for feeling that way. Her periods were regular almost to the hour, and she was late.
She took a deep breath. How ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t pregnant. She and Ryan had used a condom.
But the only completely reliable contraception was abstinence. And a teeny, tiny proportion of condoms failed.
Telling herself that she was being utterly ridiculous, she drove home via a supermarket she didn’t normally use. Thankfully she couldn’t see anyone she knew in the aisles, but even so she hid the pregnancy test in her basket underneath a magazine.
Ryan was on a late, so she had time to do the test, reassure herself that everything was fine, and get rid of the evidence.
Once she’d made a fuss of Truffle, she went up to the bathroom and did the test.
Of course it was going to be negative. She’d bought the sort that would give you a result even before you’d officially missed a period, just for that extra layer of reassurance.
She washed her hands, then stood and watched the screen on the pregnancy test; the hourglass flashed to show that the test was working.
According to the instructions, it would take up to three minutes to see the result.
It felt like the longest three minutes of her life. Every time she checked her watch, only a few seconds had passed.
And then, finally
, the words came up on the screen: but not the ones she had hoped for.
The black, bold type told her the truth very clearly.
Pregnant 1-2 weeks
She went cold. Ryan, who was absolutely adamant that he didn’t want children.
What was she going to do?
She’d wanted a baby with her husband, a man who hadn’t wanted a family with her but had made a baby with his mistress. And now she was accidentally pregnant by a man who’d told her all along that he didn’t want children.
There were no guarantees that she’d carry this baby to term. She had a twenty-five per cent chance of having a miscarriage. Or she could choose to terminate the pregnancy.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Now she knew she was pregnant, the yearnings she’d suppressed were back in full force. So maybe this baby wasn’t a disaster: maybe this baby was a gift.
From Joshua’s experience, she knew that being a single parent wasn’t an easy option. But she also knew that her family and friends would support her. She wouldn’t be alone.
But she would have to tell Ryan. She was barely halfway through the job swap, and there was no way she could keep her pregnancy a secret. She’d be showing by the time the swap came to an end. It would be obvious to everyone.
How was he going to react to the news? He was a good man, a man with integrity, so she knew his first instinct would be to support her. But he’d said he didn’t want children. So would he walk away from her and be a father in name only, or would he give them a chance? Would he give himself a chance to be part of a family, something he hadn’t had for thirty years?
Numbly, she went downstairs. Truffle pushed her nose into Georgie’s hand, as if to comfort her.
‘He’s not going to be happy about this,’ Georgie said softly. ‘Not happy at all.’
Truffle moved closer.
‘How am I going to tell him?’
Truffle gave a soft wuff, which made Georgie smile but also made her sad. Because there wasn’t an answer. She didn’t have a clue how to tell him.
She thought about it as she made chicken and apple stew for dinner.
She thought about it a bit more as she baked some brownies, on the grounds that the scent of vanilla and chocolate helped to relax her.
But she still hadn’t come up with an answer by the time Ryan walked in.
‘Hi.’ Georgie took a deep breath. ‘I made stew.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’
Meaning he’d had a rough day? Well, she was about to make it even rougher. ‘I think you should eat.’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because we need to talk.’
He looked at her. ‘You’re moving out?’
Very probably, after what she was going to tell him. She said nothing, but heated the stew through on the hob and put some rice in the microwave.
Ryan didn’t make it easy for her, either. He ate in complete silence. Well, he ate half of it, probably because he didn’t want to be rude, she thought.
He pushed his plate away. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’
‘There isn’t a nice way to say this,’ she said, ‘so I’ll tell you straight. But, first, I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you.’
He frowned. ‘You’re not making much sense.’
Tell him.
‘The night of the ceilidh.’ She swallowed hard. ‘There were consequences.’
She watched the colour drain from his face as he absorbed her news. ‘But we used a condom.’
‘You’re a medic. You know as well as I do that the only absolutely certain method of contraception is abstinence. Yes, the chances making a baby when you use a condom are tiny, but they exist. And we made a baby.’
* * *
Ryan stared at Georgie, utterly shocked.
Had she just said...?
‘We made a baby?’ he echoed, knowing he sounded utterly stupid, but he couldn’t get his head around this. The words felt like some kind of white noise in his head, making no sense.
She inclined her head.
Pregnant. With his baby.
‘When did you find out?’
‘Today. After my shift. I’ve had a couple of hours to think about it. And to talk to Truffle.’
‘She’s a good listener.’
‘She’s not so great on the advice, though. Her answer to everything is “woof”.’
Ryan knew that Georgie was trying to lighten the mood, but he could see the tears glimmering in her eyes. One slid over the edge of her lashes and trickled down her cheek. Before she could scrub it away, he reached out and wiped it away gently with the pad of his thumb.
‘Say something,’ she said.
He didn’t know what to say. Her news had fried his brain. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t try to trap you into getting me pregnant—’ she began.
‘They were my condoms and it was my responsibility,’ he cut in, ‘so of course you didn’t get pregnant on purpose. If anything, it was my fault.’
She shook her head. ‘It takes two to make a baby.’
He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. Just to be clear. ‘Do you want to keep it?’
She nodded. ‘As I said, I don’t expect anything from you. I know my parents will be supportive, my brother will be supportive and my niece will love the idea of having a cousin.’
Her parents. Her brother. Her niece. He worked it out. ‘So you’re going back to London and having the baby there?’
‘That,’ she said, ‘depends on you.’
‘How?’
‘What do you want?’
‘I...’ All the way along, he’d told her that he didn’t want children. He’d been starting to think that maybe he’d been wrong, particularly when he’d seen her with little Mollie and thought about what Georgie had told him about the way he treated Truffle. And now she’d just told him she was expecting his child.
He was going to be a dad.
There was a tight ball in his chest. ‘You know my marriage broke up because I didn’t want children and Zoe did.’
She was silent, as if working out what his words meant for her. ‘Supposing Zoe had fallen pregnant accidentally—what would you have done?’ she asked. ‘Would you have insisted that she have a termination? Or would you have walked out on her?’
What kind of man did she think he was? ‘No, of course not. I would’ve stood by her.’ He looked at her. ‘So there’s your answer. I’ll stand by you. I’ll support the child—and you—financially.’
‘What about emotionally?’
And that was the rub. ‘I don’t do emotions.’ Well, he did; but he didn’t know how to do them the way other people wanted them.
‘Oh, but you do,’ she said. ‘When Truffle went missing, you were devastated. You love that dog.’
‘We’re not discussing Truffle.’
‘Yes, we are. I’ve said before, you love that dog as if she were a child.’
He’d come to realise that, thanks to her. ‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘I love my dog.’
‘And she loves you,’ she continued, utterly remorseless. ‘Look at her now—she can see you’re worried and upset, and she’s right by your side.’
And she was. Truffle was sitting as close to him as she could possibly get, leaning against him, with her chin on her knee as if to say that she was there and she’d never desert him.
‘So you do do emotions. Truffle’s the walking proof of that.’
Where was she taking this? ‘I guess,’ he said guardedly.
‘But I think you use her to deflect your human feelings.’
That was probably also true. But he didn’t know what to say.
‘And you told me you loved Zoe.’
�
�I did.’
‘So,’ she said. ‘Maybe you could learn to love our child.’
And he could see in her eyes the thing she didn’t dare to say. Maybe you could learn to love me.
He thought about it. When Truffle had gone missing, Georgie had been there by his side and helped him find the dog. She’d been there by his side at the vet’s. She’d listened to him, and she had still been there by his side afterwards to help him look after Truffle.
At work, last week, she’d sat with Mollie’s mum when it was above and beyond the call of duty. She’d refused to leave the poor woman to wait alone until a family member or friend could come to support her. And he’d seen Georgie do that with other anxious parents too, over the last three months.
So it followed that she wouldn’t abandon him or their child.
He could trust her.
And he liked the way he felt when he was with her. He liked the way she made him see things differently.
Could he see a baby differently? A baby of his own? The baby he’d always told himself he didn’t want—but, if he was honest with himself, the baby he thought he didn’t deserve because he wasn’t lovable enough?
He’d told himself that he didn’t know how to be a father. But Georgie seemed to believe he could do it.
He thought about it some more. What about the practicalities? Would she expect him to move back to London with her? Truffle would hate that and so would he; he’d feel hemmed in, in the city. But would she be prepared to stay here with him?
There was only one way to find out.
Ask her.
He’d never, ever felt this nervous and unsure before. He’d never told anyone the deepest, darkest secret of his heart. Maybe it was time to be totally honest.
‘What if I fail? What if I’m a rubbish dad and a rubbish partner and I let you down?’
Hope bloomed in her eyes. ‘I don’t think you’ll fail. I’m not looking for perfection, and neither is our baby. Just for someone who’ll love us all the way back.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘And you won’t let us down. Just keep being you. A bit less of the silent and stubborn would be helpful, but I don’t want to change you.’ She took a deep breath.
