The Fiancé He Can't Forget

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Do you know what it is now?’

  She shook her head, and he checked on the chart in the rack by the door. ‘One-sixty over 80. Still high, but coming down well. What’s your baseline?’

  ‘One-twenty over 70. I can’t believe that. That’s shocking!’

  ‘Yes. It wasn’t great,’ he said drily.

  ‘Were you there?’

  He nodded. ‘I was, pretty much all the time. Ben dragged me away for a few minutes a couple of times in the first twenty-four hours, but mostly I was there, and—well, it wasn’t great spectator sport, let’s put it like that. I’d rather be on the other side organising the treatment any day.’

  She looked down, fiddling with the edge of the sheet. ‘There’s something I can’t— Did we have a row? It’s really foggy, I’m not sure if I dreamed it or what, but—did I accuse you of lying to me?’

  His eyebrows scrunched up slightly, and he gave a reluctant nod. ‘Yes. Yes, you did, but—’

  ‘About the baby?’

  ‘You were drugged up to the eyeballs, Amy. You didn’t know what was going on.’

  ‘I thought he was dead, didn’t I?’ she said slowly, sifting through the snippets of memory lurking in the fog, and then she looked up and met his eyes. ‘I thought it was—last time,’ she said softly. ‘Didn’t I?’

  He nodded slowly, his eyes pained. ‘Yes. You muddled them up, and thought I was lying when I said he was all right.’

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. ‘It still seems wrong that this baby’s OK and—’ She broke off, then carried on, ‘We need a name for him. We can’t just keep calling him the baby.’

  ‘Daisy said you liked Joshua.’

  ‘I do, but I wanted to ask you. He’s your baby, too. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s fine—yes, I do. It’s a good name.’ He hesitated, not sure how to say this, how it would land. ‘I thought—maybe we could call him Joshua Samuel.’

  Her breath caught on a tiny sob. ‘That’s lovely,’ she said, and biting her lip, she turned away.

  Joshua Samuel. Both her boys.

  Oh, lord.

  She started to cry, broken, hiccupping little sobs, and found herself cradled tenderly against a broad, firm chest. ‘I miss him,’ she wept, and she felt him tense under her hands.

  ‘I know, sweetheart, I know,’ he murmured gruffly. ‘I miss him, too.’

  ‘Why did he have to die?’ she asked, sniffing back the tears and pulling away. Her hands scrubbed at her face, swiping the tears aside, but fresh ones took their place and he reached for a tissue and handed it to her.

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll never know. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, or you. It was just one of those things.’

  ‘We went for a walk—the day before. A long one.’

  ‘Yes. We did. But we often walked, Amy. It was what we did. We walked miles all the time, so it was nothing new. And you know that. You can’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault, or anything you or anybody else did. I braked sharply in the car on the way home, on the motorway. It could have been that, but it’s unlikely. It was just one of those unexplained tragedies that happen in obstetrics. You know we don’t have the answer to all of them. Sometimes things just happen.’

  She nodded, and looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘I need to feed him. They said if he’s gained weight, I can have him with me here, and then we can go home together in a few days. They’re really pleased with him.’

  ‘Good.’ His smile was wry. ‘I’m really pleased with him, too. I would have liked to have been here with you, to have known you were pregnant, to have shared it.’

  She swallowed the guilt. It was too late to do anything about it, but even if she could, she wouldn’t have told him until after 26 weeks, at least. ‘I’m sorry. I just—’

  ‘Couldn’t let yourself believe it would be all right?’

  Her smile was sad. ‘Something like that,’ she admitted.

  ‘So what do we do now, Amy?’ he asked, his voice soft. ‘What happens next?’

  The real question was too hard to answer, so she didn’t even try.

  ‘Now, we feed the baby,’ she said, and started the slow and uncomfortable process of getting out of bed.

  She had a rest later, and Ben came in and they went outside in the grounds with a coffee.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Ben asked quietly, echoing his own words to Amy, and Matt felt himself frown.

  ‘I don’t know. It all depends on Amy, on what she feels about my involvement.’

  ‘Are you taking paternity leave?’

  He gave a short huff of laughter. ‘I have no idea. I haven’t really had time to consider it. It’s not a good time at work, but then it never is, is it? I’ve got some twins I don’t really want to delegate—I need to be backwards and forwards. But if Amy will let me, I want to be around, and I’m certainly going to be part of his life.’

  ‘I didn’t doubt it for a moment,’ Ben said drily. ‘I just wonder if Amy’s thought it through, or if she never let herself get that far. She hasn’t bought any baby equipment according to Daisy. Not so much as a nappy.’

  He frowned again. She really had been blanking it out. He wondered why. Was it simply because she didn’t think it would be all right? Or was it because she’d never really grieved for Samuel and hadn’t moved on? Their relationship had fallen apart so soon after she lost him that Matt had no idea how she’d dealt with it. Now, he was beginning to wonder if she’d dealt with it at all.

  He wasn’t sure how well he’d dealt with it—not well at the time, certainly, and the thought of his first son left a hollow ache in his chest even now. But this was Joshua’s time, he told himself firmly, and wondered how much of him he’d see, in reality.

  Should he take paternity leave? Instinct said yes, but Amy might have other ideas. He’d talk to her about it, but he’d certainly investigate the possibility.

  They kept her in for the rest of the week, and it felt like the busiest week of his life.

  He had twins he was monitoring at the unit in London, and his specialist registrar called on Monday night to say they were concerned, so he drove down, weighed up all the results, added in his gut feeling and delivered them at four in the morning, then went into his office and cleared his outstanding paperwork. By the time HR were in at nine, he’d delegated responsibility for his cases, divvied them out according to severity, written a short—very short—list of patients he insisted on seeing himself, and was ready to go back.

  The time he’d been away had enabled him to make one decision, at least. He phoned HR, told them he was taking paternity leave, notified them of the cover arrangements he’d put in place, and after a short detour to his house to pack some things, he was back in Suffolk by Amy’s side before lunch.

  ‘Gosh, you look tired.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Yeah. Been a bit busy. Some twins decided they’d had enough.’

  ‘In London?’

  He nodded. ‘They were only twenty-seven weeks, but they were already struggling and they hadn’t grown for five days. They’re OK, but they were tiny.’

  ‘They would be,’ she said softly. ‘Heavens. And I’m worried about our Josh.’

  ‘Are you?’ he asked instantly, and she shook her head.

  ‘No. Not any more. Sorry, that was a bad choice of words. It’s just that I mostly deliver babies that are term, and anything as small as those twins must be…’

  Brings back Samuel, he thought, understanding instantly, and he wondered how she did her job, how she coped with stillbirths and labours so early that the babies couldn’t be viable. By blanking it out? Well, it worked for him. More or less.

  ‘How’s the feeding going?’ he asked, sticking to a safe topic, and her face softened into a smile.

  ‘Great. He’s doing really well. I think they’re going to say we can go home in a day or two.’ The smile faded, and she bit her lip.

  ‘What?’ he said quietly.

 
; ‘I’ve been a bit silly,’ she admitted. It was easy to say it, now he was all right, but before—well it had been hard to plan ahead. ‘I haven’t bought anything for him. No clothes, nappies, cot—nothing. I was going to do it as soon as I started maternity leave.’ If she’d got that far. Well, she certainly had now, she thought wryly. ‘I wonder how long things take to come if you order them over the internet. Sometimes it’s quite quick.’

  ‘Or you could write me a list. I’ll just get the basic stuff in ready for you to bring him home, and you can have all the fun of the cute, pretty stuff with Daisy once you’re a bit stronger.’

  It was so tempting. Just hand it all over to him and sit back and concentrate on Joshua. Which of course was what she should be doing, she realised. ‘Would you mind? And it really needn’t be a lot. I’ll move some money into your bank account—’

  ‘I hardly think it’s necessary for you to refund me for basic purchases I make for my own child,’ he said with that quiet implacability she was beginning to realise she couldn’t argue with. Well, not and win, anyway. Pointless trying, so she vowed to keep the list as short as possible and do the bulk of the shopping once he’d gone back. He couldn’t take much longer off work, surely?

  ‘Incidentally, I’m on paternity leave,’ he told her, as if he’d read her mind. ‘Except for a few days here and there. I still need to go back a couple of days a week and I’m on standby for emergencies in my trickier cases, but otherwise I’ll be here, giving you a hand until you’re back on your feet.’

  He wasn’t asking, she noticed, and she wondered if she ought to mind, but in fact it was a relief. She’d been dreading going home, having to cope alone or, her reluctant alternative in an emergency, troubling Ben and Daisy.

  She was sure they wouldn’t mind. They’d been brilliant. Daisy had been in twice, Ben was always popping in because, like Matt, there were cases he didn’t feel he could hand over, but they had their own new baby to worry about, and she didn’t want to get in the way of that joyful time.

  And now, she wouldn’t have to, because she’d have the baby’s father there staking his claim—

  No! Stop it! Of course he has rights, and you want him to be there for your baby!

  ‘If you’re sure you can spare the time, that would be really helpful for a few days,’ she said.

  A few days.

  He’d had in mind a lifetime, but after the road they’d travelled in the last four years, he’d settle for a few days as an opener.

  ‘Let’s write your list,’ he said, pulling out his phone. It doubled as a notebook, so he keyed in the items as she thought of them, and when she was done he closed it and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘I think it’s time for a cuddle,’ he said, standing up and peeling back the little blanket carefully, and sliding his hands under him he picked Joshua up without disturbing him at all.

  She watched him, loving the sure, confident way he handled his son, knowing he was safe. She’d always loved watching him with babies. When she’d first worked with him, six years ago, she’d known he’d be good with his own. That had been one of the hardest things about losing Samuel—watching Matt holding him, the gentleness of his hands as he’d cradled the much-too-tiny baby, kissed him, before laying him tenderly on the white cloth, covering him…

  She’d never seen him cry for Samuel, but she’d heard him. She’d envied him, because she hadn’t been able to, not then, not for a long time.

  But now—now he was holding Joshua, and his hands were just as gentle, just as sure, and the love in his eyes was just as certain.

  If only he loved her. If only she could trust that love.

  No. She wanted him in Josh’s life, and she could trust him with her son without a doubt. She just wasn’t sure she could trust him with herself.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE WENT back to see her that evening, and found several of her colleagues standing around her, laughing and talking.

  The moment he walked in, however, they stopped dead, smiled at him and left. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, holding up his hands, but they went anyway, and he shook his head, slightly bemused, and sat down next to Amy.

  ‘Was it something I said?’

  ‘No, of course not. They’re just—they don’t really know what to say to you.’

  ‘Hello would be a good start,’ he said drily, and she chuckled, but then she pulled a face.

  ‘One of the advantages of giving birth in your workplace is that you get spoilt to bits, but the disadvantage is that they think of you as public property, and there’s only been one question on all their minds since they realised I was pregnant, and they’ve just found out the answer’s you. That’s why they can’t talk to you. I think they feel a bit awkward, with you being Ben’s brother.’

  He was puzzled. ‘Didn’t they know I was the father?’

  ‘No, of course not. I hadn’t said anything about you, and I actively discouraged curious questions, but I suppose now I’m on the mend, and the baby’s all right, they’ve stopped worrying about us and I can just hear the cogs turning. You know what hospitals are like.’

  ‘You don’t think they’d worked it out before?’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Several of them were there for the evening do at the wedding, so it’s quite possible someone saw us together and worked it out. Nobody really seems surprised, I guess.’

  ‘No. I imagine they just want to know all the gory details.’

  ‘Well, they aren’t getting them from me,’ she said firmly. ‘I hate being the object of curiosity.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. How’s Josh?’

  ‘OK. He’s under the UV light. I thought he was looking a bit jaundiced when I changed his nappy, so they called the paediatrician. I thought they would have told you.’

  ‘They did. It’s quite common, nothing to worry about.’

  He didn’t know why he was reassuring her, except that she looked a little glum, and she tried to smile.

  ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘It just seems odd without him here.’

  ‘It’s not for long.’

  ‘I know.’

  He frowned. There was something in her voice, something that didn’t feel quite right, and he got up and went over to her, perching on the edge of the bed and looking down at her searchingly.

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’ he asked softly, brushing her cheek with his knuckles, and just like that tears slid down her cheek.

  ‘Oh, Amy,’ he murmured, and easing her into his arms, he cradled her against his shoulder and rocked her gently. ‘What’s up, sweetheart? Are you worried about him? You don’t need to be.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I just miss him being here. It scares me,’ she said, hiccupping on a sob. ‘I don’t like it when I can’t see him, and I need to feed him, and my milk’s come in and I feel as if I’ve got rocks on my chest and everything hurts—’

  She broke off, sobbing in earnest now, and he shushed her gently and smoothed her hair.

  ‘You’ve got the four-day blues, ’ he said tenderly. ‘All those hormones sloshing around. It’ll soon pass. Do you want to go down there and feed him?’

  She sniffed and nodded, and he got off the bed and handed her a hot, wrung-out face flannel to wipe away her tears, and then he helped her out of bed and walked her down to the neonatal unit. She was steady on her feet now, but he walked with his arm round her—just in case there was anyone there left in any doubt that he was Josh’s father and definitely in the picture—and he handed Josh to her and sat beside her while she was feeding him.

  ‘Ow, they’re too full, it hurts,’ she said, her eyes welling again, and he gave her another hug.

  ‘It’ll soon be easier. Give it a minute and you’ll be fine, and it’ll get better. You’d rather it was this way than you didn’t have enough.’

  ‘Do you have to be right about everything?’ she sniped tearfully, and he blew out his breath slowly and took his arm away.

  ‘Sorry. I was only trying to help.’r />
  ‘Well, don’t. I know all that. I don’t need to be told—’

  She broke off, knowing full well she was being unreasonable, but…

  ‘Do you want me to go home?’ he asked quietly, and she thought, Home? As in your home, in London, or my home? The answer was the same, whatever. She shook her head.

  ‘No. I’m sorry, I’m just tired,’ she said. ‘Tired and fed up and I want to go home myself.’

  He gave a short sigh and put his arm round her again. To hell with it. She needed comforting, and he was right here, and the person who arguably should be doing it. Who else, for heaven’s sake?

  ‘You can come home soon,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘You could come home tonight, if you wanted. You’re well enough. It’s only the feeding, and you could spend the days here and stay at home for the nights. You could express the milk—’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t leave him, Matt. I can’t leave my baby all night. I can’t…’

  Poor Amy. She’d been on an emotional rollercoaster for the last few months, and it wasn’t over yet, he knew. They had so many unresolved issues, and if nothing else, they had to build a working relationship for the future.

  ‘Stay, then, but I think you should restrict your visitors. They’re wearing you out.’

  She sighed and leant into him, her head finding its natural resting place on his shoulder. ‘But they’re lovely to me,’ she said wearily. ‘They’ve brought all sorts of presents, and they make me laugh and they’re so kind, really.’

  ‘I know they are, but you’re tired, Amy. You need some rest. Come on, let me take him and deal with him now, and you go back to bed and get some rest.’

  She nodded, and he took Josh, resting him against his shoulder where Amy’s head had just been. He was getting good at winding him—he’d been practising on Thomas in between times, and he’d got it down to a fine art now.

  He put him back under the UV light with his eye-shade on, changed his nappy and left him to sleep. He fussed for a moment and then settled, and Matt went back to Amy and found her curled on her side in the bed, clutching a handful of tissues and sniffing.