Bound by Their Babies

by Caroline Anderson

  * * *

  She took the coffee through to the sitting room where Jake was perched on the sofa staring at the floor, Matilda at his feet building a tower with stacking cups while Zach watched her intently.

  ‘Hey,’ she said softly, and Jake looked up and met her eyes, his own filled with a worry that he wasn’t even trying to disguise. At least the anger was gone, for now at least, but he just looked desperate and she wanted to hug him. She perched next to him and handed him his coffee and one of the gooey chocolate cookies instead.

  ‘That’s my second.’

  ‘Who’s counting? So, what are you going to do?’ she asked, keeping her voice to a low murmur, and he shrugged helplessly.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t honestly know what I’m going to do. I’m on carer’s leave at the moment but that’s just crisis management and it can only be for a maximum of ten days, besides which we’re short-staffed as it is, and I don’t want to use the nursery. It seems wrong, when she’s just been abandoned by her mother. What if she thought I’d abandoned her, too? What if she hates it? And anyway, I work crazy hours. She’d practically have to live there, and what about nights when I’m on call? The only way round it is to find a full-time nanny, and they don’t grow on trees, and what the hell do I do in the meantime?’

  ‘I’ll come and stay,’ she said without a second thought, and it shocked him into silence for a moment. Then he shook his head, the hope that she’d seen in his troubled eyes replaced by despair.

  ‘No. No, I can’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘You’re not, I’m volunteering, and it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me since Pete died, not to mention the rest of the last twenty years. It’ll get you out of a fix in the short term, give you time to think.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking. I’ve done nothing but think since yesterday afternoon. There isn’t an answer, Em, and this certainly isn’t it.’

  ‘No, not long term, of course it isn’t, but I’m still on maternity leave until the middle of June, I’m not doing anything else and how much harder can it be to look after two babies than one?’ she asked, lifting Zach up before he lunged at the plastic cups Matilda had carefully stacked and knocked them all down.

  ‘Matilda’s not a baby. She can be—’

  ‘A two-year-old?’ she asked lightly, raising an eyebrow, and he laughed despairingly.

  ‘Yes. Exactly. And there are the practicalities, like I haven’t got a cot any longer because she’s in a bed.’

  ‘I’ve got a travel cot for Zach, and we can buy a double buggy from somewhere if we need to, so I can take them out. It’s not an issue, Jake, and it’s not as if we haven’t lived together before. We’re both house-trained. I’m sure we’ll survive. And you can get your life back on track and stop worrying about letting everyone down while you work out what to do next.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I want to. Please, let me help you.’

  He held her eyes for the longest moment, then let out a defeated sigh and nodded. ‘OK. If I wasn’t at my wit’s end I wouldn’t let you do this, but if you’re really sure, it would be amazing. So—when are we talking about? Next week?’

  She laughed. ‘I was thinking today? My fridge is all but empty, and it seems like a good time to do it.’

  His mouth twitched into what could have been a smile. ‘I have to tell you my fridge isn’t a lot better, but I can soon fix that. I’ll take Matilda shopping and make the bed, and I’ll see you later, if you’re really sure?’

  ‘That again?’ She laughed, and he gave another crooked grin and hugged her with his free arm.

  ‘I love you, Em, you’re a star,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re such a good friend. I don’t know how to thank you.’

  Her heart hitched. ‘You don’t need to grovel,’ she said lightly, but she wanted to curl up and cry, because he’d been amazing to her—more than a friend, really, more of a rock in her life, the only constant for the last twenty years, and especially since Pete’s terminal diagnosis.

  He did love her, she knew that, and she loved him, too. He was the best friend anyone could have and she’d do anything to help him, but she realised this would help her, too, because it meant she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts from the moment Zach went down for the night to the moment he woke in the morning, and she was so sick of being alone...

  ‘You head on back, then, and I’ll pack our stuff and see you later—about five? Then I can give Zach supper before his bedtime so I don’t mess up his routine.’

  ‘Five’s fine. What does he eat?’

  She laughed, her mood suddenly lighter for some reason. ‘I have no idea. It changes from minute to minute. I’ll bring stuff for him, I’ve got baby food and formula. It’s the only thing I have got. And you know me. I eat anything.’

  * * *

  She was early, of course.

  He’d been expecting that. Em was always early. Always had been, unlike him, although he had a golden rule of never being late. Just on time.

  So although he’d been shopping and made the bed, the house was still a bit chaotic because he’d brought in Matilda’s things and dumped them in the hall and they hadn’t got any further. On the plus side, he’d borrowed a double buggy and another high chair from Daisy Walker, his clinical lead’s wife, but on the downside they were in the hall as well.

  She’d dropped them round on her way to pick up the older children from school, and she’d even given him a lesson in how to fold the buggy, most of which had gone clean over his head. He just hoped Emily could work it out, because he was damned if he could.

  He moved it out of the way so she didn’t trip over it, opened the front door and was handed a baby.

  ‘Here, can you take him, I’ll empty the car,’ she said, and was only halfway down the path when Matilda tugged his jeans and frowned up at him.

  ‘Baby down,’ she said crossly. ‘My daddy.’

  He crouched down with a soft, coaxing laugh. ‘Of course I’m your daddy, Tilly. I’m just holding Zach for Emily. Say hello to him.’

  ‘No.’ She turned her back on him, folded her arms and tilted her head. ‘I not.’

  He stifled the smile and stood up, just as Emily came back with an armful of bags and the travel cot.

  ‘What’s up with her?’ she asked softly, and he rolled his eyes.

  ‘My daddy,’ he mouthed, and she bit her lip and shook her head.

  ‘Oops. Oh, well, she’ll get over it. And so will he,’ she said, taking Zach before he fell out of Jake’s arms leaning over trying to reach her.

  ‘Why don’t I empty the car?’ he suggested drily, and headed out of the door, leaving Matilda standing in the hall with Emily.

  ‘Daddy!’ she wailed, running after him, and he turned and caught her as she tripped on the step, lifting her up into his arms and holding her close as she sobbed against his neck.

  His gut wrenched. ‘Hey, little one, I was only getting Emily’s things from the car,’ he said gently, stroking her hair. ‘Do you want to help me?’

  She hiccupped and nodded, and he handed her a teddy that was falling out of the top of a bag, picked up the bag and Emily’s suitcase in his other hand and went back inside.

  Em greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged. ‘As you said, they’ll get over it.’

  He just hoped she was right, because right then none of them had a choice.

  * * *

  He came down from settling Matilda in bed and sorting out the travel cot to find Emily ensconced on the sofa, feeding Zach.

  ‘You’re still breastfeeding,’ he said gruffly, stating the obvious and floundering to a halt, the sudden wash of conflicting emotions taking him totally by surprise.

  She looked up and smiled, her face tender and mellow in the light from the lamp, and his heart turned over. ‘He’s still only a
baby. He isn’t ten months yet, and he’s going to be my only child, so I might as well carry on as long as he wants to. It’s only morning and evening, and it means so much to both of us.’

  ‘Hell, Em, you don’t have to justify it to me, I’m heartily in favour of you doing what nature intended, but you’d talked about formula milk so I was just surprised,’ he said lightly, trying to ignore his crazy reaction.

  Since when had breastfeeding been erotic?

  ‘I’m going to put our food on. Cup of tea while it cooks?’

  ‘Please—decaf if you’ve got it?’

  ‘Of course. I have enough trouble sleeping without chucking caffeine into the mix.’

  ‘Do you need a hand?’

  ‘No, you’re all right. You stay there with Zach.’

  He headed for the kitchen, trying to work out what was going on in his head. He knew what was going on in his body, and it was entirely inappropriate and out of order.

  Didn’t stop it, though.

  He turned on the oven, put the kettle on, braced his hands on the edge of the worktop and let his head drop.

  He did not need this—this sudden and unexpected and unwelcome complication to a situation that was already complicated beyond belief. She was a widow, a vulnerable woman with a young child, putting herself out to help him. The last thing—absolutely the last thing—she needed was him turning weird on her. Protective he could cope with. Lust—no. Absolutely not.

  He thrust himself away from the worktop, put the supermarket ready meal into the oven, then prepped the veg.

  Not that opening a tray of pre-prepared sugar snap peas, baby corn and tenderstem broccoli took much prepping, but anything rather than go back in there while she was still feeding Zach. And that in itself was ridiculous. He spent his life surrounded by women in various stages of undress, was thoroughly familiar with their most intimate anatomy, saw new mothers breastfeeding on a daily basis. So why was he reacting like this now, and why with Emily, of all people in the world?

  And there was no way—no way!—he was letting himself answer that question! It was a whole other can of worms, and he needed to get a grip. He wasn’t an adolescent exploring and exploiting his emerging sexuality, he was an adult, more than twice the age he’d been when he’d first met Emily. Surely to goodness he’d developed a little self-control and discretion in all that time?

  Not to mention common decency.

  With a low growl, he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, made the tea and went back in, studiously avoiding looking anywhere near her chest. Not that he could see anything, anyway. She was being incredibly discreet and she’d obviously got it down to a fine art—

  ‘I think there must be some kind of narcotic in breastmilk,’ she said with a smile that sent his resolutions into a tailspin. ‘It’s like he’s drugged, he’s so heavily asleep.’

  He hauled his eyes off the sliver of smooth, pale skin he could see above the baby’s downy head as she tugged her top down. ‘Will you be able to sneak him into his cot, or will he wake up the minute you let go of him?’

  She gave a wry laugh. ‘I’m guessing that was Matilda?’

  ‘Yup. Every time.’

  ‘Zach’s usually all right. I might go and try if you don’t think I’ll wake her?’

  ‘No, she should be fine. Go for it. The travel cot’s ready.’

  She unravelled her legs and stood up gracefully, and he gritted his teeth and dragged his eyes off the smoothly rounded curve of her bottom as she headed through the door.

  What the hell was going on with him?

  He picked up his tea, cradled the mug in his hands and blew the steam away crossly.

  He was better than this. If ever a woman was off limits, it was Emily, and especially now. He knew that. It was just getting his body to listen that was the difficult bit, and right now it seemed to have gone stone deaf.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JAKE WAS HUNCHED over his tea when she went back to the sitting room. He looked deep in thought, and the thoughts didn’t look happy from where she was standing.

  ‘Thanks for getting the travel cot ready for me, he’s gone down like a dream,’ she said, and he glanced up at her, his eyes unreadable.

  ‘You’re welcome. I didn’t know if you’d still want him in your room, but I thought it was better to be on the safe side as it’s a strange place. We can always move him, I’m not short of bedrooms.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I keep meaning to move him out, but—I don’t know. I quite like knowing there’s someone else there with me. It wards off the self-pity a bit.’

  She knew her smile was wry, and his eyes locked with hers searchingly.

  ‘Don’t you mean grief?’ he asked her, his voice gentle, and she shrugged.

  ‘Same thing, really, isn’t it? I miss Pete, but he doesn’t miss me, he can’t, and I’m sure he wouldn’t miss the pain he was in, or the dread of what was to come, or the worry about how we were going to cope without him. He’s spared all that now. It’s those left behind who have to pick up their lives and carry on, so in many ways grief is just a selfish emotion.’

  ‘Or an acknowledgement of the person he was, and the part he played in your life. It’s OK to grieve, Emily.’

  She smiled. ‘I know, but I’ve done that. I did most of my grieving while he was still alive, because to be honest I never really dared to let myself believe he was cured when they gave him the all-clear, so when it metastasised there was a sort of horrible inevitability about it all. I think I always knew it was coming, and now it’s just juggling the things that need to be done with the lack of support and practical help. Things like cutting the hedge and putting up shelves in Zach’s room and all the other stuff that he used to do that I’m rubbish at.’

  ‘I’ve offered to help,’ he reminded her, but she didn’t need reminding. She dropped onto the sofa beside him, tucked her arm in his and squeezed it firmly.

  ‘And you have helped. You’ll never know how much you’ve helped me, Jake. I wouldn’t have got through it without you, but I need to toughen up now and get a grip. Time to return the favour, and I’m really sorry it’s because of Jo doing a runner and turning your life upside down, but I’m here, I’m not going to run out on you, and I’ll stay until you don’t need me anymore.’

  She held his eyes for an age, but then something flashed through them and he turned away, as if he couldn’t look at her any longer, and shook his head.

  ‘I can’t ask that of you,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Yes, you can—and by the way I rescued the supper. There was an interesting smell coming from the kitchen so I turned off the oven and opened the door a bit.’

  He swore and leapt to his feet, and she followed him into the kitchen as he whipped open the oven door and stared into it.

  ‘Is it OK?’

  He pulled the dish out and inspected it. ‘Debatable.’

  He put it onto the hob and prodded at it with a fork, and she chuckled softly and peered over his shoulder at the bits of singed pasta sticking up out of a rather dark golden crust.

  ‘Will we live?’

  He grunted. ‘Just about. There are one or two bits that might need ditching, but it won’t kill us.’

  She tutted. ‘You’re a slow learner, Stratton. I taught you to use an oven timer twenty years ago. I would have thought you’d mastered it by now.’

  He gave a low chuckle, and she slid her arms around him and rested her head against his broad, solid shoulders that were curiously comforting. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Jake. I meant what I said, I don’t know how I would have coped without you.’

  She straightened up and slackened her arms, and he turned in them and gave her a brief hug, then reached for the kettle.

  ‘You’re welcome. Now go and drink your tea and put your feet up,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’ve g
ot to steam the veg but that won’t take long. I’ll call you when it’s ready.’

  ‘Don’t forget to time it,’ she said with a cheeky little wink designed to needle him, and took herself out of range before he threw something at her.

  * * *

  He watched her go, the feel of her still imprinted on his body, front and back, then he closed his eyes and swore softly and comprehensively under his breath.

  What was wrong with him?

  He plonked the pan on the hob, poured boiling water into the steamer under the veg and laid the table, then stuck his head round the door. ‘It’s ready.’

  ‘Good, I’m starving. So—what is this?’ she asked, poking at the slightly over-browned crust as she sat down at the table.

  ‘Chicken, tomato and mascarpone pasta bake. And yes, I timed the veg,’ he growled.

  ‘Wonders will never cease,’ she mocked, rolling her eyes, then stuck a forkful of the pasta bake in her mouth and moaned. ‘Oh, that’s really tasty. Good job I caught it in time.’

  He opened his mouth to reply, and she raised both hands, her lips twitching at the corners, and he gave a soft huff of laughter and rolled his eyes. ‘Why don’t you just shut up and eat it before it’s cold?’ he said drily, and she smiled, stuck her fork into her food and then looked up at him again, her eyes almost luminous, her voice wistful.

  ‘You know, it’s really nice having someone to eat with, especially someone I can have a conversation with.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Zach doesn’t talk to you?’

  It got a laugh out of her, although it was just a little one. ‘You know what I mean. I love him to bits, but it’s not the same as sharing a meal with an adult. It’s a long while since I’ve done that, and even longer since someone cooked for me. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said softly, grateful for the timely reminder that she’d only lost her husband less than eighteen months ago. Dragging his eyes off hers, he turned his attention firmly back to the food.