‘Finished your shopping?’
Sophie held up the bag she was carrying.
‘Would you believe it’s a present for you from Thomas? From the son you didn’t want to know.’
‘If he is my son,’ Gib said quietly, standing up but not approaching her.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Sophie demanded. ‘If you’re implying my sister slept around, I’ll—I’ll—’
‘Kick my teeth in?’ he said helpfully, making Sophie even more furious than she already was.
‘Something like that!’ she seethed.
‘Sophie, Hilary didn’t sleep around. She didn’t even sleep with me.’
‘Oh, no? Pregnancy by osmosis, was it?’
‘Pregnancy by donor—all I did was give some sperm to Hilary.’
‘You were a sperm donor?’ The notion was too much to take in, Sophie’s mind scrambling to find purchase in it. ‘But that’s anonymous—the donors are anonymous—and you said “my son”.’
‘It’s not anonymous when you do it for a friend,’ Gib said quietly, then, apparently realising Sophie had got beyond the teeth-kicking stage, he stepped towards her.
‘Let’s sit. I’ll explain. Do you want to go down by the river?’
Down by the river? With moonlight and lapping water? She mightn’t be as angry now, but she wasn’t insane.
‘No!’
‘Then we’ll sit on the step.’
He didn’t touch her, merely stood aside so she could reach the step, which wasn’t, when he sat down as well, nearly big enough for two people, especially when one of them didn’t want to be touching the other.
‘Hilary wanted a child,’ he began, his sombre tones suggesting the memories he was dredging up were painful. ‘I don’t know if she ever talked to you about it, but she talked to me, I guess because we were friends. Then one day she asked me if I’d donate sperm.’
Sophie’s heart, which had been beating erratically since she’d seen Gib on the step, now slowed to snail pace, while the pain she heard in Gib’s voice flowed along her nerves.
‘How could I give her a child when I hadn’t had one with Gillian?’ he whispered. ‘I said no, and that was that. Then Gillian died—died the way she did—and it was as if my whole world tilted off its axis. I was so hurt that she would do that to me, hurting that I’d lost her and angry with myself that somehow I should have known and stopped her. I know grief is always terrible to bear, but mine wasn’t clean grief, Sophie, it wasn’t even healthy grief. Can you understand that?’
She could and slid her hand across to touch his knee because the lump in her throat prevented speech.
‘I went back to the institute to finalise what I’d been doing before starting back at the NICU and found Hilary was nearly as miserable as I was. Her beloved grandmother had died and she was devastated, finally resigning, saying she was going back to Sydney to live with her sister.’
He covered Sophie’s hand with his, and gently squeezed her fingers.
‘You?’
Sophie nodded in the dark and waited, needing to hear it all.
‘She was grieving or I doubt she’d have said anything, but when I said goodbye to her she asked me again. She told me how desperate she was to have a child, and with her grandmother’s inheritance would even have had the resources to take five years off work to devote to her child until he or she went to school.’
He paused again, while an image of Hilary, crying as she’d boarded the plane to return to Brisbane after Gran’s funeral, flashed through Sophie’s head.
So unhappy, it had broken Sophie’s heart!
‘Anyway,’ Gib continued, ‘suddenly it made no sense that we should both be so unhappy, especially if there was some way I could perhaps bring her just some hope of joy. So I said I’d do it, but guilt still nagged at me—the guilt of making a child with someone other than Gillian. So, because of that, and out of respect for her memory, I told Hilary I didn’t want to know if she conceived. She promised me she wouldn’t reveal who the father was and that she’d make no claims on me. And in return I promised I would never tell my part of it or ever make a claim on the child.’
There was a long pause before he added two more words. ‘Not ever!’
‘So when you read the elephant story and saw Hilary’s photo…?’
Sophie couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t object when Gib put his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer.
‘I didn’t know what to do! To say I was gobsmacked—well, that doesn’t start to describe it. What were the odds of the two of us meeting? Of the child I didn’t know I had actually living under my roof? And to make matters worse, there was this woman who’d come into my life, bringing all the laughter and sunshine I hadn’t realised I’d been missing, and to add to my fears about failing her as I’d failed Gillian, I now discover the child she loves might just be my own.’
He held her against his body and stared into the darkness.
‘Should I have told you?’
Sophie stared into the darkness, searching for answer.
Was there one?
‘I don’t know,’ she said, while she tried to sort through all the things she’d heard. It was like putting a jigsaw puzzle together, fitting all the sky pieces but setting aside bits that didn’t fit.
‘The odds of our meeting weren’t that enormous,’ she said carefully, because, in spite of what he’d said about laughter and sunshine, he hadn’t mentioned love. ‘Yes, that I ended up working for you is a coincidence, and our living together stems from that, but I came to Brisbane to find you.’
Gib tightened his arm around her shoulders and wondered how she’d react if he dropped just a small kiss on her cheek.
He tried it, and when she didn’t hit him, he found the breath to repeat her words back to her.
‘You came to Brisbane to find me?’
She turned and pressed her lips to his cheek this time.
‘To find Thomas’s father,’ she explained. ‘That’s why I had the memorial service. Well, Hilary’s friend Paula had suggested it, and I went along with it so I could check out the men Hilary had worked with. It seemed as good a place as any to begin.’
Gib shook his head.
‘If that was all you wanted to do, why take a job here? Couldn’t you have flown up, stayed a couple of weeks then gone back to Sydney?’
‘I…’
He felt her stiffen and turned her in his arms, holding her close, wondering what it was that she found so hard to talk about.
‘I thought once his father knew about him, he might want to keep in touch, and it would be easier if we were in Brisbane. Thomas is a little boy—I thought one day he might need his father.’
Gib groaned as he processed the hoarsely whispered words. How could he not have considered that when he’d made his promise to Hilary?
He drew Sophie closer and kissed her cheek.
‘You did this on the off-chance a selfish man might one day realise the full extent of his selfishness? You left your home town and friends and family, and came up here for Thomas?’
He felt her shiver then edge away from him, shaking her head.
‘Don’t give me too much credit,’ she said. ‘I definitely had an ulterior motive for finding Thomas’s father. It wasn’t until after I’d decided I had to find him that I thought about the other stuff—about maybe being able to keep in touch.’
‘You had to find him?’ Gib probed.
A long soft sigh carried through the darkness towards him.
‘Did Hilary tell you much about our family?’
Gib shook his head then realised Sophie wouldn’t see the gesture in the darkness, so spoke as well.
‘She was a very private person,’ he said quietly. ‘I think maybe you are, too.’
Another sigh, then the woman he knew he loved crept closer, leaning against him, so it was only natural he’d put his arms around her.
‘Everyone talks about their dysfunctional familie
s, and I know really horrible things happen to children, and plenty of people would say our family was fine, but there was no love, Gib, and children can’t be reared without love.’
He tucked her closer, and squeezed her shoulder, waiting for this so private woman to dredge up a past she had put behind her.
‘I didn’t know Hilary’s father, but he was obviously just another of my mother’s enthusiasms. That’s what men were to her—enthusiasms. She’d grab one and totally focus on him to the exclusion of all else, then tire of him and he’d be discarded.’
‘But her children?’
‘Mistakes! Oh, she might have thought she wanted children, but she had no time for them at all. She paid for care for us, and that was that. I cannot remember one kiss my mother ever gave me, nor a hug, nor even a dressing-down for being naughty. And I was naughty.’
Sophie paused, feeling the pain of those years when she’d tried everything her small child’s mind could think of to attract the attention of the woman she’d adored.
‘She was beautiful, and carefree, always laughing—or so it seemed to me—with kisses and hugs for the men who came and went. Some, like my father and Hilary’s and the stuffed-shirt she’s with now, she married, but in between there were plenty more. Hilary was only four years older than me, but she became my mother. I don’t know if it was instinct, or if at some time one of my mother’s men had abused her, but when I was about three she put me in my stroller and we ran away for the first time. We always went to Gran’s and we were always taken back, but Hilary never gave up and Gran realised something was very wrong for her to keep doing it, so when I was five she started court proceedings. It took a long time, because I was eight and Hilary was twelve before Gran was appointed our legal guardian and we went to live with her. Gran was wonderful, but I think by then it was too late for Hilary to learn about love and affection and how a hug is sometimes all you need. She knew it worked for other people, for she’d hugged and kissed me all her life, but somehow she felt it couldn’t be that way for her.’
Gib stared into the darkness, seeing the two children who had gone through their formative years without love, understanding the reserved woman he had known at the institute and why the only way she could ever have had the child she longed for had been in the way they’d done it.
And understanding why Sophie had wanted someone free with hugs and kisses to help her care for Hilary’s child. Thomas would never suffer from a deprivation of love.
Thomas?
‘And Thomas? Finding his father?’
‘My mother wants him.’ Fear reverberated in the dry words, hurting Gib because there was pain behind them as well. ‘I think it was to do with image that she fought to keep Hilary and me. Her friends all had children who were put on display from time to time, so she had to have some, too. Her latest husband is some wealthy politician who seems to think bringing up a step-grandchild will be good for his image so my mother has started court proceedings. I’m single, I work long hours, I have to put Thomas into child care—she knows all the angles and has plenty of money to fight her case.’
‘Ah!’ Gib said as the rest of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. ‘So you had to find Thomas’s father to get his support for you to keep the little boy.’
Sophie nodded in the darkness, suddenly exhausted.
Had Gib sensed it, that he kissed her lightly on the head and said ‘Go to bed’?
Go to bed? That’s all?
But she was too tired to argue, and probably too tired to put much effort into the kisses she thought she’d have preferred. She let him help her to her feet and lead her into the flat, picking up her parcel and handing it to her as he gently kissed her goodnight outside her bedroom door.
She cupped her palm against his cheek and looked into his eyes, catching the glimmer of a smile lurking there.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said. ‘What are you up to?’
He bent his head and kissed her again.
‘I’m going to postpone Christmas,’ he said. ‘But first I have to get to the shops before they shut, then make a million phone calls. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’
None of it made sense so Sophie did as she was told and went to bed.
The next day was a work day, nothing more, Sophie realised as she woke to find Thomas standing by her bed, his eyes fixed anxiously on her face.
‘Is it Christmas yet?’ he asked. ‘Can we look under the tree?’
‘One more sleep,’ she said, because she couldn’t bear that he’d have this first Christmas when it meant something to him without her. ‘I have to go to work, and you’ll stay with Aunt Etty and—’
She was about to say Etty would take him to a party, but Gib’s strange remark about postponing Christmas popped into her head and she held back, wondering what on earth it meant.
‘One more sleep?’ Thomas checked, as he and his elephant climbed into bed with her and snuggled up against her.
‘That’s all,’ she promised, then she drew him into her arms and kissed him, kissing him all over until his giggling and squirming made her stop.
What next? she wondered as he in turn pressed giggling kisses on his elephant. She and Gib had talked and all the pieces of the puzzle were finally in place, but he’d made no commitment about Thomas—or towards her, although she could hardly expect that of him.
Yet, she thought wistfully as she got out of bed and hustled Thomas through to the kitchen for his breakfast, it would be such a simple solution—she and Gib could marry and that way he’d be twice Thomas’s father.
She shivered at the thought, not with delight but because she knew that fairy-tales rarely came true.
With Thomas washed and dressed, she phoned Etty to ask if she’d play along with the one-more-sleep scenario. Etty agreed, and it was only when Sophie added ‘So if you take him to Gib’s family party, could you tell him it’s a Christmas Eve party?’ that Etty seemed a little taken aback.
‘Of course,’ she said, but Sophie could hear doubt in her voice. Before she could wonder what was going on, Thomas tugged at her skirt, ready to get on with his day. She took him through to the house and handed him over to Etty, who announced they were going to make gingerbread men.
‘Gingerbread men?’ Thomas echoed, wonderment in his voice and adoration in his eyes as he looked up at the woman who brought such magic to his life.
‘That’s right,’ Etty said briskly. ‘Now, kiss Sophie goodbye and we’ll get started.’
Sophie smiled to herself as she drove to work. She sometimes wondered if she should be jealous of the love Thomas felt for Etty, but she never felt anything but gratitude and relief that Gib had made that particular arrangement possible. It was perfect, and Sophie knew that whatever happened between herself and Gib, Etty would always be there for Thomas.
‘Santa hat for you,’ Sally greeted her, when she reached the ward. As everyone in the hospital seemed to be wearing Santa hats, Sophie accepted hers with good grace.
So it was a day that started well, and continued that way. It was quiet in the unit. The new baby had gone home, Alexander John Neilsen had moved into the intermediate unit and Carly, Kristie and Angus, no longer needing monitoring, were in one of the family rooms with their mum and dad.
Sophie took advantage of the peace and slipped up to the ICU. Marty must have had the same idea as she was there, not counting foetal heartbeats but talking to the baby, telling it about Christmas.
‘Couldn’t resist?’ she teased Sophie, and Sophie smiled, admitting that she felt the woman and her unborn child deserved more than to be left alone on Christmas Day. Marty slipped away but Sophie stayed a while, holding the woman’s unresponsive hand and singing quietly to the baby.
Back in the unit little had changed.
‘It must be the Christmas spirit that’s made them all better this week,’ Maria said, nursing a sleeping Mackenzie in her arms.
‘It must be,’ Sophie agreed, as a disturbance in the
foyer made them both turn. A group of carol singers stood there, shuffling into order, their leader stepping forward to explain he knew they had to sing quietly here, and if they did, would it be OK?
‘Go right ahead,’ Sophie told them, and all the staff stopped what they were doing and turned to listen to the carols, Sophie looking at Maria and realising she and Mackenzie were symbolic of all the mothers and babies who came through this place. It had been a battle but eventually little Mackenzie would go home, where with the love and attention of her family she would thrive.
Family?
Apart from Gran and Hilary, it had been an alien concept to Sophie.
Up till now?
Could it happen?
Could she and Gib and Thomas become a family?
She hardly dared to hope—knowing Gib’s reservations, understanding them.
The singers segued into ‘Silent Night’ and Sophie forgot about Gib and thought only of her sister—of Hilary, who had taught her how to love.
Gib wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but by midnight on Christmas Eve he’d managed to pull it all together. He slept in on Christmas morning, at times hearing Thomas’s chatter as background noise but dozing off again without it disturbing him.
Tonight he’d talk to Sophie, then tomorrow…
He smiled to himself as he walked through the house, finding Thomas with Etty in the kitchen and asking him if he’d like a swim.
The little boy ran so happily—so trustingly—towards him, Gib felt his heart tighten with an emotion he’d never felt before. He swung Thomas into his arms and hugged him, sure this child must be the greatest Christmas gift a man could ever receive.
Although there was one more he’d like…
Sophie arrived home late, the staff going off duty insisting she have a Christmas drink with them, plying her with lemonade when she’d refused champagne.
Thomas was already in bed, asleep.
‘He was exhausted, poor wee lad,’ Etty explained.
‘I’m feeling a bit that way myself,’ Sophie told her, then remembered her manners. ‘Did you have a good day? Enjoy the Christmas party?’
Etty frowned at her.
‘But we’re having Christmas tomorrow,’ Etty reminded her, and Sophie was too tired to do anything but agree. She’d have liked to ask where Gib was, but guessed he was still visiting his family, and though disappointment shafted through her, she said goodnight to Etty and headed into the flat. She’d been eating Christmas goodies all day at the hospital—a cup of tea and some toast would be all she needed for dinner, then she’d go to bed.
A Father by Christmas Page 15
