Bound by the Unborn Baby

by Bella Bucannon

  She consciously steadied her breathing. ‘You should warn me.’ It came out like a husky plea for more rather than a reproach.

  Ethan gave a low chuckle that resonated over her skin and skittered down her spine. ‘So it’s okay to kiss you any time as long as I don’t surprise you?’

  His amusement stretched already taut nerves. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ She scrunched her eyes and bit on her lip.

  ‘I’m not insensitive, Alina.’ He lifted his hand. Let it drop. ‘Every time I touch you I’m very aware of how you feel. Remember we need to portray a couple who can’t resist each other?’

  For him it was all for public image, so his declaration should please, not disappoint. Stupid hormones. She so had to check with the doctor why they were affecting her this way. In private.

  ‘I can handle the pretence.’ Liar. ‘I’m getting used to it.’ Double liar. ‘It’s... The doctor might ask for information I can’t...can’t give.’

  ‘Ah...’

  As if he understood. She shook with frustration. ‘No, you don’t get it. I can give her the dates she’ll need, fudge the method of conception. It’s... She’s bound to ask...’

  It had been bad enough writing details on the clinic’s patient information forms he’d accessed on Friday. She’d thanked him for his considerate action in allowing her to fill out her medical history privately. It was the idea of it being voiced out loud that was eating at her. There was no way to explain the dark place where she’d buried the unbearable pain and heartbreak.

  He wrapped his arms around her, drew her into his warmth. His hands began a soothing caress over her spine.

  His voice was gentle, as if speaking to a child. ‘You’re not alone, Alina. I’ll be with you.’ His hands stilled. ‘Unless you want to see her alone.’

  Of course she did.

  ‘No, that’s cowardly. I can handle it.’ Her quivering voice proved otherwise.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He meant it. And the compassion in his blue eyes and the generosity of his offer gave her strength.

  ‘You may have questions too. Besides, the father has the right to be there.’ With a jolt of amazement, she realised a simple truth. ‘I’d like you to be there.’

  ‘I am the father...’ His large hand covered her abdomen. ‘My baby. Our child.’

  She didn’t protest and he appeared satisfied. She’d never be able to use that phrase, never be able to care that way again. Hearing it resonate from him relieved her. He was going be a great father.

  * * *

  Ethan linked his fingers with hers as they entered the light, hospitable clinic. Her anxiety was palpable and he had no remedy. Give him a struggling business to rescue any time.

  ‘Relax, Alina. It’s only a preliminary examination.’

  At least his words earned him a faint smile. He steered her into an empty elevator and pressed the button. The compulsion to comfort her and drive the shadows from her soulful eyes rippled through him.

  ‘We’re bending the truth for our child’s sake, Alina. The book claims doctors need dates and medical history—nothing more. No one’s going to pry into your personal history.’

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘What book?’

  ‘The one I bought Tuesday morning, specifically written for expectant fathers.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Very informative and downright scary.’

  They stopped and he guided her out.

  She handed in the forms and her obligatory urine sample at Reception and were directed to an empty waiting room. Light classical music played softly in the background. Alina sat idly flipping the pages of a magazine. Ethan filled two plastic cups from an orange juice dispenser and offered one to her.

  She accepted it with a noticeably shaky hand and his heart sank. He noticed her agitated finger movements, half hidden by the bag on her lap, finishing in a clenched fist. Hoping their appointment wasn’t delayed, he put his cup on the low table and wrapped steadying fingers around her hand.

  ‘Patricia Conlan has a very good reputation.’ He raised the hand clasping the cup to her lips. ‘Now, drink. Slowly.’

  Alina obeyed, emptying the cup. He drained his, took both cups to a bin, then returned to sit beside her, studying a poster on the wall opposite.

  She kept her eyes downcast, wishing she had his self-discipline. He’d been predictably shaken by her initial bombshell, and angry a few times during subsequent conversations, but he’d rapidly recovered his composure every time. She, on the other hand, had trouble keeping any control over her emotions.

  She glanced sideways, surprised to find him looking more nervous than he’d let on. The long supple fingers of his right hand thrummed on his thigh, and she recalled them spanning her stomach. The image of them sensuously exploring her body flashed into her brain, and she couldn’t stifle a throaty gasp.

  He jerked round. ‘Alina, are you all right?’

  ‘Alina Fletcher?’

  She jumped up, willing her burning cheeks to cool, grateful for the interruption from the uniformed woman in the doorway.

  They were ushered into the consulting room.

  ‘Dr Conlan will be with you in... Ah, here she is.’

  ‘Alina, Ethan. It’s nice to meet you.’ The fortyish woman with slightly mussed brown hair and bright blue eyes clasped her hands, then Ethan’s, in genuine welcome.

  ‘Let’s sit down and get acquainted.’ She emanated compassion and invited trust.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Conlan.’ Alina took a seat, placing her handbag on the floor as a folder was opened and perused. Even Ethan’s reassurance couldn’t dispel her feeling of foreboding at the thought of queries about her past. An occasional note was written, an occasional ‘hmm’ mouthed.

  She noticed a slight resemblance to her husband’s Aunt Jean, triggering a pang of guilt. She’d only kept in token touch with everyone, had avoided personal contact. In a few weeks she’d have to notify them that she was living in Sydney. Remarried. Having another baby. The latter when Ethan decided to make the announcement.

  Sneaking a peek at him, she met genuine concern. Whatever he saw caused him to take her hand, link their fingers and squeeze. He had no idea how calming those slight actions were.

  Dr Conlan laid down her pen and glasses, placed her elbows on her desk and linked her fingers. She smiled sympathetically.

  ‘I appreciate this must revive painful memories for you, Alina, and I sincerely hope your new baby brings you happiness.’

  Ethan squeezed her hand again.

  ‘The sample you brought in officially confirms your pregnancy. If you’d like to go into the examination area, I’ll be in shortly. We’ll talk after.’

  Alina went to the open doorway indicated. The faint murmur of voices drifted in as she prepared and lay down on the examining table. She stared at the ceiling, silently chanting her mantra.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NICE AS THE doctor was, Alina felt relieved as they left. A referral for an ultrasound and an appointment card were in her handbag. Ethan held the door open, his free hand clasping the pamphlets they’d been given.

  She’d seen his surreptitious peek at his watch in the elevator. Catching his arm she stopped them both. ‘You need to get back to the office, don’t you?’

  ‘There’s always work to be done. We can—’

  ‘Hail a taxi and I’ll drop you off. The sooner you get back, the less chance of staying late.’ And she’d have some quiet contemplation time to mull over the doctor’s advice, read those pamphlets, and fully accept the path she’d chosen.

  His cobalt eyes gleamed with gratitude. His fingers rested gently on her cheek for a moment. ‘Spoken like a true corporate wife.’ He looked round. ‘There’s a snack bar over there. I’ll grab a sandwich to eat at my desk.’

 
He made one call during the taxi ride to his office, booking the ultrasound for Monday the twenty-first of April at ten. She wrote the date and time in her notebook as he repeated them for confirmation, realising it was the day after the wedding. When she would be recorded as his wife.

  Ethan sensed a change in her. Was she too beginning to realise the enormity of their agreement, so simple in words, so complex and mind-boggling in reality? In front of the doctor he’d claimed to be the father of her child. He’d said ‘our baby’, ‘our child’ so easily. Now he had to fulfil the promises he’d made to Alina and his sister’s memory.

  His pragmatic nature demanded everything be put in place quickly, privately. Nothing left to chance, no hesitation that might give anyone cause to believe he doubted his paternity. Even before she’d agreed he’d set up appointments without considering the effect on her. Even after learning of her loss he hadn’t deviated from his plan.

  He hadn’t allowed for the reality—hadn’t understood the impact it would have on them both.

  He reached for her hand, breathed in her sweet fragrance. She didn’t react; lost in a world he had no right to access.

  The taxi was nearing his office. He tilted her chin, took in her subdued expression and almost told the driver to keep going. What could he say or do? Nothing until she was ready to confide in him. A quick kiss on her forehead produced little response. He had no right or reason to be disappointed. Only a week ago he’d walked out on her.

  * * *

  Alina’s head was inside the kitchen island cupboard when the intercom buzzed at about eleven the next morning. She’d just managed to reach the small can in the back corner and jerked at the sound, banging her head.

  She walked over to the front door. Hesitated. Ethan hadn’t mentioned anyone coming. Would he want her to answer? Another buzz. She pressed.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Good morning. Is Ethan at home?’

  The hairs on the back of her neck lifted at the high-pitched, cultured voice. Her mouth dried. She swallowed twice, rubbed her neck. Finally managed a croaky reply. ‘No, I’m sorry, he’s not.’

  ‘I’m Sophia James. May I come up?’

  His mother—judgemental to the nth degree. Far worse than the ex-girlfriend she’d suspected. Should she let her in? What would she do if Alina refused her entry?

  ‘Hello? Are you still there?’ Slightly peeved.

  ‘Please come up.’ Denial only delayed the inevitable. In three weeks Sophia would be her mother-in-law. For a short time anyway.

  She raced to her bedroom to check her appearance. After brushing her already neat hair she went slowly back, taking long lung-filling breaths. Waited, slowly counted to nine after the bell rang before opening the door.

  Sophia James was the epitome of a stylish, sixtyish woman with all the resources to fight any sign of ageing. From her coiffured dark hair to the handmade high-heeled shoes colours matched, everything fitted perfectly. There was nothing soft about her at all. Not a trace of warmth in her red lips or in her flat brown eyes.

  Alina felt an irrational zing of satisfaction that both this woman’s children had expressive blue eyes, clearly inherited from another family member.

  ‘Please come in,’ she said, standing aside.

  Sophia walked in with an air of entitlement, scanning the area as if it were her territory. Scanning Alina as if she were an applicant for a lowly household position.

  ‘You are not the cleaner. Why isn’t Ethan here with you?’

  Spoken as if she couldn’t be trusted to be alone in his home. She felt a twinge of insecurity, then pride came to her rescue. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. She’s Ethan’s mother. Treat her with respect. She’s the baby’s grandmother. That last thought eased her resentment. This lady would not take kindly to any of the traditional titles given to a grandmother.

  ‘I’m Alina Fletcher. Would you like coffee or tea? Ethan’s at work.’ She held back on saying, But I’ll bet you know that.

  ‘Mild coffee, thank you. White. No sugar.’ As if she were ordering from a waitress in a café.

  Alina watched as Sophia stopped before entering the lounge, giving the area a thorough scrutiny before selecting one of the armchairs. Giving the impression that she had never seen the decor before. After popping a pod into the machine Alina joined her, staying on her feet to attend to the drinks.

  ‘You’re the girl with Ethan in the photograph a friend texted to me. You were kissing in the street, and now you’re acting like this is your home. Are you living with him?’ Blunt and insulting.

  She made a point of staring at Alina’s bare left hand, made no attempt to hide her displeasure. Alina’s attitude swung again. How dared this woman question and insult her?

  ‘I don’t discuss my private business with strangers.’

  Sophia’s lips thinned, almost disappeared. Her back stiffened. ‘I’m his mother. I have a right to know.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should ask him. Next time we’re in contact I’ll ask him to get in touch.’

  It was a definite dismissal. Forget coffee. Alina wanted her gone.

  The scathing look Sophia gave her was defused by the dull shade of red flooding her face. She rose stiffly to her feet.

  ‘Be warned, Ms Fletcher. You don’t fit. You may have him fooled for a short time, but his contemporaries will see through you as easily as I do.’

  Her movement to the door was as near to a stomp as Alina had ever seen anyone do in heels. She followed, far enough behind so that Sophia had to open the door herself.

  She turned for a parting shot. ‘Even suitable girls don’t seem to last long with Ethan. Your novelty will quickly pall for a man of my son’s impeccable taste.’

  She swept out, leaving the door open.

  Alina closed it, shaking with disbelief. She uncurled her clasped fingers to enable them to rub the back of her neck, tilted her head to the ceiling. What had she done? Apart from insulting his mother, and practically throwing her out of his home, she’d given the impression she had authority here.

  Ethan hadn’t wanted his parents to know about her yet. A public kiss hardly equated domestic cohabitation. Should she have lied?

  Her head reeled.

  Should she wait ’til he came home to tell him, when she’d be able to see his reaction? What if Sophia rang him first with a distorted version of events?

  Taking bites of some dark rich chocolate for courage, she debated the pros and cons...

  ‘She what?’ The outrage in Ethan’s voice seared down the phone line. She’d got no further than telling him his mother had visited before he’d exploded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t know whether to let her in. I—’

  ‘She’s never been there before—never been invited. What did she want?’ Barked out, agitating her even more.

  ‘Someone sent her a photo of us kissing. I didn’t know what to tell her.’

  She’d screwed up. No, he’d put her in that position by keeping her a secret. It was his family who had the issues.

  ‘You should contact her. I...I... I’ll see you tonight.’

  She hung up.

  * * *

  ‘Alina?’

  She’d gone. Ethan realised his knuckles were white from his grip on the mobile phone. His free fist ground onto his desk. She’d sounded distressed. What the hell had his mother said to her?

  He’d never been so angry. Or so worried when Alina didn’t answer his call back. He selected his mother’s number.

  ‘Ethan, we haven’t heard from you for a while.’

  Not since they’d criticised the wording for the gravestone. Lucky for her there was half a city between them else he’d be tempted to throttle her.

  ‘So you thought you’d pop into my home when you knew I wasn’t t
here?’

  She spluttered. He gave her no chance to refute his claim.

  ‘Don’t bother denying it. My receptionist logged the same female voice yesterday, saying she might call in. Your voice is quite distinctive.’

  It wasn’t said as a compliment. Anyone who truly knew him would have been wary of his low, controlled tone.

  ‘I was worried. I’d received a photograph of you with that girl I met in your apartment.’

  He almost lost it at her throwaway reference to Alina. Gritted his teeth, needing to know how his mother had discovered she was there. He waited for a long, tense moment.

  ‘Okay, I described her to an acquaintance who lives a few floors below you. She said she’d seen her—sometimes alone, sometimes with you. I’m only looking out for your welfare, Ethan. There’s something not quite right about her. She just about ordered me out.’

  ‘After, I’m guessing, you began to interrogate her. Listen carefully, Mother. You’ll have no more contact with me at all if you bother Alina again. Understand?’

  ‘Ethan, you—’

  ‘Goodbye, Mother.’

  He dragged his fingers through his hair. Alina, sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that. I made a mistake—should have known she’d start digging at the slightest rumour I might be dating.

  He tried the apartment. No answer. Tried Alina’s number twice more. It went to voicemail each time.

  * * *

  There was no sound in the apartment, no sign of Alina. Her mobile lay on the kitchen island. She has to be here. Has to be.

  Ethan strode to her bedroom. The breath he felt he’d been holding for ever whooshed out at the sight of her handbag by her dressing table. Her bathroom door was open. Not there. One place left to check.

  The gym area was silent apart from the low hum of the water pumps. The lights were dimmed, giving him limited vision of the figure floating in the pool. The only movements were slight flicks of her feet, gently propelling her along towards him. A rush of relief swamped his body. He sagged against the doorjamb, his heart racing. He’d had no reason to think she would run, yet he’d feared she might.