Their Own Little Miracle

by Caroline Anderson

  She felt her eyes fill, blinked hard and nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  He wasted every free minute of the day wondering how the scan had gone, if she’d been all right, how she was dealing with it. She came over in the evening after he’d called her to say he was home, and she walked in and handed him an envelope.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Just in case you wanted to see it.’

  He held it in his fingers like an unexploded bomb, staring at it in horrified fascination. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Fine. Everything looks good. It’s due on the eighth of July.’

  He dropped the envelope on the hall table like a hot brick and went into the kitchen, desperate to change the subject. ‘I made a curry.’

  ‘Not turkey, I hope.’

  ‘No. Not turkey. It’s venison.’

  ‘You didn’t shoot it!’

  He laughed and pulled her into his arms, relenting. ‘No, of course I didn’t shoot it. I don’t have a gun and, anyway, I don’t particularly like venison. It’s a Goan fish curry, very mild, so it shouldn’t give you acid reflux.’

  He bent his head and kissed her lingeringly, then let her go, laid the table and dished up.

  ‘I saw James,’ she told him. ‘He’d worked out weeks ago that I’m pregnant because I was avoiding Resus because of the radiation risk, but I explained the situation and he was brilliant about it.’

  He froze. ‘Did you tell him I was the donor?’ he asked, and she looked horrified.

  ‘No, of course not! I won’t tell anyone that. It’s nobody’s business but ours. This curry’s lovely, by the way. Thank you. How’s your aunt doing?’

  ‘OK. She’s back in the home, on iron supplements. They’re going to monitor her. It might be gastric erosion from painkillers, so they’ve switched her to something gentler on the stomach and put her on omeprazole. She’s not happy. She says the painkillers are useless.’

  They chatted more about her, then about his plans for the kitchen, his work schedule, but he wasn’t really concentrating because out of the corner of his eye he could see the envelope sitting on the hall table, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

  * * *

  He should have thrown it out. Should have done something with it—lit the fire with it, anything—because on New Year’s Day he took Elizabeth home for a festive lunch, turned his back to hang up their coats, and the first thing she did was pick it up.

  ‘You haven’t opened your card,’ she said, and before he could stop her she’d opened the envelope and pulled it out.

  ‘Don’t—’

  But he was too late. She opened the card, saw the grainy ultrasound photo and gasped softly. ‘Joe?’

  ‘Do you have no boundaries?’ he asked, snatching it out of her hand and stuffing it back in the envelope without looking at it, and she put her hand over her mouth and her eyes filled.

  ‘It’s Iona’s, isn’t it?’ she asked, ignoring his comment.

  ‘No. It’s her sister’s.’

  ‘But the name said Iona—’

  ‘It’s her sister’s baby,’ he said firmly. ‘She’s not keeping it.’

  ‘And yours.’

  ‘No!’ he denied, and then softened. ‘No. It’s not my baby, Elizabeth, it’s not her baby, either, and it’s definitely not our baby. She’s having it for Isla, so don’t get any ideas and start knitting, because it’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Oh, Joseph,’ she murmured sadly, and took his hand, a tear trickling down her cheek. ‘Dear boy—’

  He retrieved his hand. ‘I’m not a boy, Elizabeth. I’m a man, and I know my own mind, and I can make decisions for myself. And this was my decision, to do this for her, for them. So don’t waste sympathy on me, because I’m fine with it, so’s Iona. It’s all good.’

  ‘Is it? Then why are you so angry?’

  He had no answer for that, at least not one he was prepared to voice, so he led her through to the kitchen, parked her at the table and put the vegetables on to steam while he made the gravy and tried to get his emotions under control.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE WEATHER CHANGED, growing much colder as winter got into its stride, and Iona thought she felt a cooling in Joe, as well.

  The roads were icy, he didn’t want her risking an accident, and anyway he had work to do, another course to go on, another exam coming up...

  Excuses? It felt like it, but then out of the blue he’d pick her up, take her home, feed her, make love to her as if she was the most precious thing in the world, and then return her to her flat. Even then, he seemed distracted. The only emotion she felt from him was when they were making love, and otherwise he seemed to be trying to distance himself from her.

  Or from the baby?

  No. She didn’t think so, because when he made love to her, he’d caress her bump, lay kisses on it. Was that the action of a man who was trying to distance himself from it? Not that he could avoid it. She was noticeably pregnant now, the small bump above her pelvis appearing at fourteen weeks and continuing to grow. Her waist thickened, her breasts grew heavier, and her scrubs were barely hiding it.

  Maybe he was genuinely busy, and concerned for her on the icy roads? She didn’t know, but she needed to, so the next time he phoned and asked if she was free, she drove over to his house an hour earlier than planned and found the house in darkness.

  Stupid. He might be anywhere, expecting to pick her up on his way home. Or maybe he was in his study. She rang the doorbell, and the hall light came on and he opened the door.

  ‘Iona? I thought I was picking you up?’

  ‘You were. I thought I’d save you the job.’ She went in without waiting for him to ask, and turned to him, meeting his puzzled eyes with determination.

  ‘Is this some kind of test?’ she asked him bluntly.

  He frowned. ‘Test? Is what a test? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Leaving me in suspense from day to day, picking me up when it suits you, then dropping me again until the next time you can fit me into your schedule? Is it because you’re bored with me, or is it to see if I get bored like Natalie—?’

  ‘No! Iona, no, absolutely not! You’re nothing like her and I’m not in the slightest bit bored with you!’ He took her hands, unknotting them from each other and wrapping them tightly in his. ‘I just need to work and, believe me, I’d far rather not. And it’s not that I don’t want to see you. I do. I just can’t concentrate if you’re here, and I have to.’

  ‘Why? Why push yourself so hard if you don’t want to?’

  ‘Because there’s...’ He hesitated, clearly torn, then met her eyes again. ‘There’s a consultancy in the offing, totally unofficial and it may not happen, but my boss wants me for it, and I can’t blow this because I want it, too. I want it—need it—so badly I can taste it, but if you’re here I know I won’t work because I’ll want to be with you, I’ll get distracted, and I can’t afford to let that happen, not now, not with so much at stake, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. You must know how much I want you, God knows, I can’t disguise it, but I have to pass these exams if I’m going to stand a chance of the consultancy if it comes up.’

  She felt stupid. Needy, whinging, pathetic—

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise the pressure you were under. Of course you have to work. I’ll go—’

  ‘No! No, stay. I was nearly done. Make yourself a drink, let me just finish off what I was doing and then I’ll stop.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lingeringly, then let her go, strode down the hall to the study, turned off the light and came back. ‘I’m sure. I’m done. It’ll still be there tomorrow. Come in the sitting room and talk to me about anything you like except medicine.’

  They didn’t talk. Not for long. She ended up lying in h
is arms on the sofa while he kissed her tenderly, his fingers sifting through her hair. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, and he kissed her again.

  ‘I’ve missed you, too. The only thing that’s getting me through the work is knowing you’re there when I come up for air.’

  ‘Which isn’t often enough.’ She stroked his face. ‘You sound exhausted, Joe.’

  ‘I am. I could sleep for a week, but there’ll be time for that in the summer, when it’s all over.’

  It? The work—or the baby? Because by midsummer, the baby would be Isla’s... She sucked in a breath. ‘So—tell me about this consultancy. Is it a new post?’

  He nodded. ‘They’re trying to get funding. They’ve raised nearly all the money for the new angio-surgical suite, and my boss is going to be running it, which leaves the IR suite a bit in the lurch.’

  ‘Hence the job.’

  ‘Hence the job. So I need to make sure I’m ready for it. It could be my only chance to work here for years, by which time Elizabeth won’t be here any longer and I will have missed my opportunity to spend time with her. And I owe her that time, for all she’s done for me.’

  She smiled, just so he knew she was teasing. ‘So does she see you more than I do?’

  He laughed a little ruefully. ‘She does, but not for long, and she’s much less distracting,’ he added, trailing a fingertip down her throat and under the V of her jumper to linger tantalisingly in her cleavage.

  ‘What about your parents?’ she asked, retrieving his hand. ‘Don’t you owe them?’

  He sighed. ‘I guess, but they’re younger, they’ve got each other, so there’s time for them later. And this...’ He shifted, dropped a slow, lingering kiss in her cleavage and disentangled himself from her. ‘I need to go and cook. Or we could go to the pub.’

  ‘Or I could cook and you could go and finish whatever you were doing.’

  He searched her eyes. ‘Don’t you mind?’ he asked, and she had to laugh.

  ‘No, silly. I don’t mind at all. Go and do it, and I’ll investigate the fridge.’

  * * *

  It set a new pattern, one in which she took care of him instead of the other way round. She kept out of his way for most of the week and then when it fitted with their shifts, she went to him, taking food already prepared so he didn’t have to do it, and they spent the night together, talking, eating, making love.

  And then one day in February, she felt something—a tiny flutter? It could have been anything, a movement of her gut, a muscle twitch—but then the next day she felt it again, stronger, so that if she laid her hand over it, she could feel the faintest movement under her palm.

  Her baby was moving.

  She felt a surge of joy, and then reined it back. Not her baby, Isla’s baby. And in less than two weeks, they’d be coming down for the twenty-week anomaly scan.

  Except they didn’t. Isla had had been ill with a tummy bug in early January, and she phoned the day before the scan and said she still wasn’t right and couldn’t face the long journey from Northampton to Yoxburgh, so she’d made an appointment to see the doctor.

  ‘You should have told me you were still ill,’ she told Isla with a pang of guilt. ‘It’s been weeks since that bug, you shouldn’t still be feeling funny, so I’m glad you’re getting it checked out.’

  ‘But I’ll miss the scan, and I was so excited. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. You take care, let me know what they say, and don’t worry about not being here, it doesn’t matter. I’ll get you photos. You just get well.’

  She put the phone down and smoothed her hand absently over her bump. It was a shame they couldn’t make it, but the most important thing was that Isla went to the doctor and found out what was wrong.

  She thought of all the things it could be. Hepatitis of some sort? Pancreatitis? A food intolerance, like dairy? That could happen after a tummy bug, so when she got to Joe’s that evening she ran it by him.

  ‘That’s unusual,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘Did you tell her to get it checked out?’

  ‘She’s already got an appointment with the doctor. Joe, what if something’s really wrong?’

  ‘It won’t be. Lots of gastric bugs can trash you for weeks,’ he said firmly, wrapping his arms round her and holding her close, rocking her against his chest. ‘It’ll be something simple like a lactose intolerance after the bug. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I know you’re right, but I can’t help worrying. And they’re going to miss the scan. She sounded gutted about that.’

  ‘Do you need me to come with you?’ he said after a beat.

  Need? Or want? He sounded reluctant, and as far as she knew he hadn’t even looked at the first scan photo. The envelope was still lying on the hall table, gathering dust.

  ‘No, I’ll be fine—unless you want to come? You’re welcome.’

  Very welcome, and for a second she thought he hesitated, but then he shook his head and she knew she’d imagined it.

  ‘No, I’ll be busy, you know what it’s like. There’s a lot of elective stuff tomorrow, as well, so it’ll be like a production line. What time is it?’

  ‘Ten thirty.’

  ‘No. That’s right in the middle of it. Sorry.’

  Was that a tinge of regret in his voice? Could be. Or just her imagination. She buried her needy side and moved out of his arms, smiling up at him as she cradled his jaw and went up on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘Don’t worry. So, what’s for supper? I’m ravenous.’

  * * *

  He spent all day trying not to think about Iona and her scan, but the day was hell on wheels as he’d expected and of course nothing was easy, things went wrong—one patient arrested, another had such tight kinks in the radial artery he had to start again using the femoral artery, someone else reacted to the contrast medium and almost died—and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he had a call from Iona and her voice sounded odd.

  ‘Are you going to be long?’

  ‘No. I’m done—why?’

  ‘We need to talk. Can you come to mine?’

  His heart thudded against his chest. Was it Isla? The baby? ‘I’m on my way.’ He ran to his car, drove to hers and rang the doorbell, and she came straight down, her face ashen.

  ‘Right, let’s get you home,’ he said, slinging an arm around her and holding her close, and he led her to his car, drove her home, took her into the kitchen and sat her down. ‘Right, talk to me, Iona. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it the baby? Did they find something on the scan?’

  She closed her eyes briefly, shook her head, and his heart speeded up.

  ‘Is it Isla, then? Have they found something?’

  She nodded, and gave what could have been a strangled laugh, but it was more of a sob.

  ‘She’s...’ Her voice trailed off, but then she tried again. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  The blood drained from his head. ‘What?’

  ‘I know. I’ve spent all day convincing myself she’s got something awful, and it turns out she’s pregnant, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’

  He stared at her, stunned. ‘That’s impossible. I don’t understand. How can she be pregnant?’

  Iona shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but apparently she is.’

  He stood up, his legs shaking, and put the kettle on, stuck a carton of soup in the microwave while the kettle boiled, and then made them tea, plonking it down on the table in front of her and dropping back into his chair.

  ‘So, what exactly did she say?’

  She ignored the tea, using it as a hand warmer instead. ‘She’s thirteen weeks, give or take. She had no idea. She had a period, a bit light, a bit late, which she thought was odd, and then she got this horrible gastric bug which she thought was definitely a bug because she had diarrhoea, too, but she didn’t get better. And she started to wor
ry, so she went to the doctor today, which is why she couldn’t come down, and it was a locum who’d never seen her and didn’t know her history, and she said she thought it sounded as if she was pregnant, sent her off to produce a urine sample and it tested positive, but she couldn’t hear a heartbeat so because of her history they thought it might be a molar pregnancy and sent her straight to hospital for a scan, and they found a perfectly normal thirteen-week foetus. So she rang me,’ she ended, finally coming to a halt and taking a breath.

  ‘So—what happens now? With...’ No, not our. ‘With this baby?’

  Her eyes looked dazed. ‘I don’t know. We didn’t talk about our baby, just hers, but she said she didn’t know how to tell me. They’d only just found out, and she was a bit stunned. And of course there’s no guarantee their baby will survive. She had a miscarriage years ago, with Steve, but nothing since and they’ve been trying everything for the last five years, so this is completely unexpected and she’s convinced she’ll lose it, but—what if she doesn’t lose it, Joe?

  ‘What if she goes to term and they don’t want our baby? I mean, I know it sounds selfish and obviously I don’t want them to lose it, that would be tragic, and I’m overjoyed for them, but neither of us signed up for this. I can’t have a baby now, not at this stage in my career. And on the other hand, if they lose theirs and then still want ours, will they be able to love her? Will she be as precious, as loved, as the baby they lost? I don’t think so, and I couldn’t bear that, and I don’t know what to do—’

  ‘There’s nothing you need to do,’ he said, his heart pounding, because this was his worst nightmare come true, the fact that things had changed when she was already pregnant, and now there was no way back. ‘You don’t know what’s going to happen, whether she’s going to lose it or not, but even if they do lose their baby and have this one as planned, it will be precious and of course they’ll love it.’

  Except there was no ‘of course’ about it. Yes, they’d love it, but—as much as their own? No. How could they? Would they say they wanted it just as an insurance policy, in case their own baby died? That wasn’t why he’d agreed to this, to give Isla and Steve a backup baby! There was no way back, no way out of it, and he had to remind himself it wasn’t his mess. Iona was pregnant, she was having a baby for her sister, and his only role in this was support for her. How they’d sort it all between them wasn’t his business.