Their Meant-to-Be Baby

by Caroline Anderson

  He laid his hands over hers, then froze. ‘Was that a kick?’

  She nodded, pulling her hand out from under his so he could feel it better, and he let out a soft huff of wonder.

  ‘That’s amazing. How long have you been able to feel it?’

  ‘A week or so? I wasn’t sure at first, but it’s been having a good old wriggle today.’

  He laughed, then wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he murmured.

  ‘Mmm. Just happy.’

  ‘Me, too.’ He eased her away, looking down intently into her eyes, and then he slid his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his.

  ‘Marry me, Kate. Please? Let’s be a proper family?’

  She blinked, then took a tiny step back, mentally as well as physically. ‘Why? Why do you want to marry me, Sam? Why can’t you just accept what we have?’

  ‘Because I want more? Because I’m old-fashioned and I believe a child’s parents should be married?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. That’s not a reason to get married. Plenty of parents aren’t—and plenty of those who are get divorced.’

  ‘I know. And I know it’s no guarantee of happiness, but you’d be better protected in law if we’re married.’

  ‘That’s not a good enough reason, Sam. People should only get married because they love each other. I’m not going to marry you when I don’t think either of us is ready for it. I’ll move in with you, I’ll live here with you and our baby, but I can’t marry you just to make it tidy.’

  He dragged his hands down over his face, let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

  ‘No. I’m sorry. You’re right. Maybe I wanted to do it for the wrong reasons, to undo our mistakes.’

  ‘You can’t, Sam. Nobody can do that. And right now, neither of us is ready for this step—not yet, at least. And we’ve got so many other things to think about—moving in here, the scan, getting ready for the baby—it’s all too much at once. Give us time—please? Let’s see how it goes?’

  He nodded, but the happiness she’d seen in his eyes was gone, wiped away by her refusal, and as he turned away she pressed her lips together and blinked away the stinging tears.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE FURNITURE CAME on Friday morning, as planned, and immediately it started to look like a home.

  He’d taken the day off to supervise, and it had paid off because everything had been put in its intended place, everything unwrapped and the packaging taken away, and he’d even had time to make the beds. All that remained was finding a home for the kitchen things, and that was Kate’s province.

  She was working, but the moment she finished she drove down and joined him, and her face when she walked in made all the angst and effort worthwhile.

  ‘Oh, Sam—it looks amazing!’ She ran her fingers over the back of a sofa and scanned the room. ‘I love that table. I’m so glad we chose it and not the other one.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t care? I thought it didn’t matter?’ he teased, and she laughed and hugged him.

  ‘It does matter, of course it matters. If it’s not yours, you just accept it, but if it’s yours, there’s no point in it being wrong for the sake of a bit of effort.’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, you’ve changed your tune. Come on, come and see the bedrooms.’

  He took her by the hand and led her upstairs, and they paused by the door to the nursery at the foot of the attic stairs.

  ‘It looks so empty,’ she said, her hand curving over their baby instinctively as if she feared for it.

  Did she? She’d refused to buy anything for it until after the scan, so was she still wondering what would happen if she lost it? God forbid, he thought, but if she did, the nursery would hang over them as a constant reminder of all they’d lost.

  ‘Why don’t I redecorate it?’ he suggested quickly. ‘Paint it white, like you said?’

  ‘Or maybe a pale grey? It faces east, it’ll be very light.’

  ‘I’ll do it white first. I reckon it’ll take a couple of coats at least to cover the mural. Then you can decide.’ He took her shoulders and pointed her towards the attic stairs, patting her on the bottom. ‘Come on, come and see our room.’

  He followed her up, and she pushed open the door at the top and gasped.

  ‘Oh, Sam, it looks fabulous! I thought the bed would be huge in here, but it’s perfect!’

  She ran her hand over the bedding—pure white hotel stripe zillion thread count Egyptian cotton, over a goose down duvet, because as he’d said you couldn’t put a price on a comfortable bed—and sighed.

  ‘It’s gorgeous. The whole house—it’s gorgeous. You must be so happy with it.’

  Not as happy as he would have been if she’d agreed to marry him, but if she wasn’t ready—

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am happy with it,’ he said firmly. ‘I think it’ll suit us very well. Come on, I’m starving, I haven’t stopped all day. Let’s go to the pub and have dinner, and then go back to yours. We can move in tomorrow.’

  * * *

  In fact it took two days, mostly because he wouldn’t let her do any of the carrying, and there was a limit to how much even he could carry down the stairs on his own at once.

  Anyway, she had enough to do, because it was ages since all the furniture had been pulled out and the flat needed a serious deep clean, so they emptied her possessions out of one room at a time, and while he ran up and down, she blitzed the nooks and crannies that hadn’t seen the light of day for yonks.

  ‘How can you have so many clothes?’ he asked on the third pass, and she could see him wondering if there could possibly be enough wardrobe space.

  So it was Sunday afternoon by the time everything was moved and her flat was ready to be handed back to the landlord.

  ‘All done?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll just have one last check. I’ll see you downstairs.’

  She walked through the rooms alone, saying goodbye to her old life. The end of an era, she thought—and the beginning, hopefully, of a better one? Certainly different.

  The rooms were all clean now, but they were tatty, in desperate need of new furnishings, and the contrast between it and Sam’s house was shocking.

  And yet it had been her sanctuary, a place where she could retreat to lick her wounds, and she was sad and a little afraid to let it go.

  She closed the door for the last time, turned and tripped on the torn stair carpet, grabbing the banisters to save herself.

  ‘Kate?’

  She heard him run up the stairs three at a time, stopping in front of her, hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Are you all right? What happened?’

  ‘I’m fine. I tripped, that’s all.’

  He sighed sharply. ‘That wretched carpet—it’s a miracle you haven’t killed yourself on these stairs. Come on, let’s go.’

  She followed him down, out of the front door, closing it with a solid thunk behind her.

  Time to move on...

  * * *

  Her twenty-week anomaly scan was on Wednesday evening, three days after they’d moved in, and everything was fine. She hadn’t realised how tense she’d been, how worried, and now all she felt was the most enormous sense of relief.

  ‘Do you want to know what it is?’ the sonographer asked, and she shrugged.

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll let you decide.’

  ‘I can’t decide!’ she wailed, half laughing, and the sonographer smiled.

  ‘I tell you what. Why don’t I write it down and put it in an envelope? And then you can think about it.’

  ‘OK,’ she said slowly, still massively undecided, so Sam took over.

 
; ‘Give it to me,’ he said with a smile, taking the decision out of her hands and tucking the envelope in his pocket. ‘Then she won’t be able to open it without convincing me she really wants to.’

  They left the hospital and drove home—odd, how she was beginning to call it that in her head, even though she still maintained it was his house.

  They picked up fish and chips on the way, and ate them out of the paper, sitting on the veranda watching the sun set over the marshes and listening to the keening of the gulls and the clatter of the rigging on Sam’s boat.

  ‘I must get on with it,’ he said, staring at it thoughtfully. ‘I should be able to get it in the water before the end of the summer. That’s what it needs, to be in the water. Wooden boats shrink when you take them out, and then they leak, but it shouldn’t by the time I’ve finished.’

  ‘What about the inside?’

  ‘Oh, it’s fine. It needs a good clean and a polish, but the interior was refitted a few years ago and it’s more than adequate. I’ll take you out in it.’

  ‘While I’m pregnant?’ she said, feeling a little frisson of alarm, but he just grinned at her.

  ‘It’s got an engine, sweetheart. It’s not like a little sailing dinghy, it won’t capsize.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, and handed him the rest of her chips. ‘So, what about this baby? Do we want to know?’

  ‘Do you? Or do you want a surprise? That’s what you said before.’

  ‘I know, but...’

  ‘Sleep on it. It doesn’t really matter, one way or the other. It is what it is, but at least we know that everything’s all right.’

  She nodded and thought about it for a moment. ‘I feel that, if we know, it might seem more real, as if it’s a person and not just a wiggly bump. We could stop call it “it”.’

  ‘Up to you,’ he said, holding up his hands and passing the buck firmly back to her. ‘I can’t make that decision for you, Kate. It has to be your choice.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s open it.’

  ‘Sure? There’s no going back.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He handed her the envelope, and she opened it with trembling fingers and pulled out the slip of paper.

  ‘Turn it over.’

  ‘I can’t—’

  He held her hand, and together they turned the paper over.

  ‘It’s a girl! Oh, Sam, it’s a girl, we’re going to have a daughter!’ she said, and burst into tears.

  His arm came round her, holding her against his side, and she swiped away the tears, stroking her bump tenderly.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s a girl...’

  ‘It’s what you wanted.’

  ‘I know. Oh, Sam. She feels so real now.’

  He hugged her again, then bent his head and kissed her. ‘You’ll have to choose a name.’

  ‘No, we will. She’s our baby, Sam,’ she said, taking his hand and resting it over the baby. ‘We’ll choose her name together.’

  His hand moved, caressing their child, caressing her, and she tilted her head and searched his eyes.

  ‘Do you mind that it’s not a boy?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ he said softly. ‘It really doesn’t matter to me so long as you’re happy. That’s all I want.’

  He did. She could see it in his eyes, and it changed everything. She lifted her hand and laid it gently against his cheek.

  ‘Let’s get married,’ she said impulsively, and his eyes widened.

  ‘I thought you weren’t ready?’

  ‘I thought I wasn’t, but I think I was just worrying about the scan, and at the time it was all I could think about, that and the move. I was just overwhelmed, but—now, somehow, it seems right.’

  ‘Oh, Kate—’

  He lowered his head and kissed her tenderly, and she could feel he was shaking. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured, lifting his head and searching her eyes.

  ‘Yes. I’m absolutely sure.’

  ‘Then let’s do it, and soon, before the baby comes.’

  She nodded slowly, snuggling in against his side. ‘Can we have a simple wedding? I don’t really want a lot of fuss. It’s not as if I’ve got any family, just a few friends.’

  ‘Me, too. Well, other than my parents and my brother. A small, simple wedding sounds perfect,’ he said, and she remembered his comment about Kerry and the endless trivia, and was glad she’d said what she had. She didn’t want their wedding spoilt by comparisons, even if the other one had never happened.

  ‘Even if it’s going to be small, I suppose we’ll need to choose a venue,’ she said doubtfully, and he just smiled, a slow, sexy smile that made her heart race.

  ‘Can we talk about that later? Right now, I really fancy an early night, and we’ve got the perfect venue for that right here.’

  * * *

  He led her up to the attic, to the huge mahogany bed, the bedding almost luminous in the moonlight. He didn’t turn the lights on. He didn’t need to. He could see everything he needed to without them.

  He undressed her slowly, his hands tracing the changes brought about by her advancing pregnancy—the fullness of her breasts, the smooth, firm curve below them where their daughter lay safe and snug, awaiting her time.

  He matched the curve with his hands, fingers outstretched, and felt a subtle shift beneath them, a tiny kick against his palm. It made him smile.

  ‘Shut your eyes, little girl, you’re not old enough for this,’ he murmured, and stripped off his clothes, turning back to Kate to draw her into his arms. The warmth of her skin, silky soft, smooth under his hands, the firmness of her belly, the soft fullness of her breasts—they intoxicated him, making him feel drugged with happiness, swept away by the beauty and the honesty of her body.

  He lowered his head and kissed her, and felt her catch fire, her hands searching his body, urgency replacing reverence as he laid her down in the huge and wonderful bed they’d chosen together.

  And soon it would become their marriage bed.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete in all his life. It was his last coherent thought before the wildfire raging inside him engulfed them both.

  * * *

  ‘Can we get married here?’

  They were sitting on the veranda, drinking coffee from the wonderful built-in machine James had had installed and had grieved about leaving behind, and nibbling pastries for breakfast.

  It felt wonderfully decadent, almost honeymoon-like, but they had plans to make soon if she didn’t want to be so far into her pregnancy that she waddled down the aisle.

  ‘I don’t think it’s legal.’

  ‘No, probably not. Can we do the ceremony paperwork somewhere else and then come back here for the party?’

  ‘Then we can’t leave, and I might want to get you on your own.’

  ‘Oh, might you?’ she said, laughing softly and batting his hands away as he explored her body yet again.

  ‘Yes, I might. I might want to do it now.’

  ‘Behave. You’ve got to go to work in a minute. Can we have a sensible conversation about this?’

  ‘We’ve had that conversation. I think we should have the party elsewhere, so we can escape—and anyway, the weather might be wet, you can’t be sure. Is there anywhere here with a smallish function room we could hire?’

  ‘Zacharelli’s?’ she suggested. ‘Although it’s probably hideously expensive.’

  ‘Let’s find out,’ he said, and glanced at his watch. ‘Oh, damn, I have to go, I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes. You could try ringing them. See what dates they’ve got.’

  He dropped his feet to the floor, kissed her goodbye and grabbed his car keys. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘OK. See you.’

&n
bsp; She watched him drive away, feeling warm and fuzzy inside, and sat back, letting the fresh June morning air fill her lungs for a few more minutes before she cleared away their breakfast things and went and wrote, of all things calculated to make Sam laugh his head off, a to-do list.

  * * *

  ‘So, I’ve got some dates for Zacharelli’s,’ she said when she caught up with Sam in the ED later. ‘They haven’t got any Saturdays except one in four weeks because they’ve had a cancellation. Is that too soon?’

  ‘Probably not. We need to sort it with the registrar. I’m due a break, I’ll ring them. Can you give me the exact date?’

  She handed him her notes, and he raised his eyebrows and stifled a smile. ‘Is this a to-do list?’ he asked carefully, and she closed her eyes and tried to look offended.

  ‘You are so rude.’

  His lips twitched. ‘Surely not. OK, leave it with me. Did you get any prices?’

  ‘They’re emailing me.’

  ‘OK. So once we’ve got it confirmed, we need to tell people. Do you want to draw up your guest list?’

  ‘It’ll take me all of two minutes.’

  ‘How about your foster parents?’ he suggested, his voice gentle.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I owe them so much, but it’s sort of difficult.’

  ‘I know. Think about it, though, and maybe at least tell them.’

  She nodded slowly, then glanced at the clock. ‘I’d better get on. I’m due in Minors. I’ll let you know what I find out.’

  He dropped a kiss on her lips, winked at her and sauntered off, and James, coming round the corner at that moment, raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘Tut-tut, public displays of affection in the workplace,’ he murmured, but she could see he was smiling.

  ‘How’s the house?’ she asked.

  ‘Chaotic. Congratulations, by the way. Sam tells me you’re getting married.’

  ‘Yes. I can’t quite believe it, really. How’s Connie?’

  ‘Getting bigger. Only ten weeks to go now. Why don’t you both come over and see the house and have a drink with us this evening?’