A Miracle for the Baby Doctor

by Meredith Webber

  ‘Fine,’ she said, but he knew it was a lie.

  She was busying herself with the other purple dishes now, looking at them with naked eyes before shifting one to the microscope.

  ‘I have to go back to the Inuis,’ he said, ‘but I’m not going to the hospital, so perhaps we can have lunch together.’

  He supposed it was a statement that didn’t need a reply, so after a brief pause he went back to the clinic.

  Something was eluding him and he had no idea what. In truth, they’d known each other barely a week, so he could hardly expect to fully understand her—if such a thing was ever possible between two people.

  But he tried anyway, thinking back to the fairly uptight woman he’d met off the plane, then seeing the gradual change in her as the island worked its magic. In bed, he’d discovered, she was a woman who held nothing back, and yet she was obviously holding back a whole lot of who she was.

  His thoughts were becoming so entangled he forced his mind away from Fran, turning it to the couple he was about to send home full of hope and probably a little apprehension.

  They were standing with Alex in the waiting room as he explained when they should come back, giving them a date in nine days’ time.

  ‘We’ll do the pregnancy test then and again at twelve days to be sure, and we want you to be positive about this. Yes, we’ve talked about the statistics and you know it might not happen with your first IVF cycle, but remember that it can and possibly will, so hold tight to that thought.’

  Alex was good, Steve thought. Maybe in another year he could head up a permanent IVF clinic here. He, Steve, could afford to sponsor another O and G specialist for the hospital and the two could work together as he and Alex had.

  And then he could get on with the last item on his list because he wouldn’t have to leave a wife and family for four weeks three times a year.

  Was he thinking that because he’d met Fran?

  Liked Fran?

  Maybe loved her?

  Had that thought somehow flown through the air and transmitted itself to Fran, causing her to ask, as they were finishing their lunch, why, with a family so important on his ‘to-do’ list, he hadn’t started earlier.

  ‘I did think about it,’ he admitted, then knew he wanted her to know.

  ‘I did more than think about it. I met a woman, got engaged, made plans for a wedding in the not-too-distant future, and children. I’d finished my intern year and residency and was starting my O and G specialty so I was well on my way.’

  He paused, mainly because the memory still hurt.

  ‘Then Liane turned up. The stepsister I told you about. She’d always considered my apartment as a second home. You have to understand that Liane had been badly abused as a young child. She was a broken spirit, and not even all the love Hallie and Pop gave her could fix her. But she was special and we all loved and protected her.’

  ‘Such a terrible thing for a child,’ Fran said quietly, obviously understanding, so Steve continued.

  ‘She was on drugs at the time, and as low as I’d ever seen her, so I spent a lot of time with her, helping her reduce her intake gradually so that she didn’t suffer seizures. Finally, I got her into a detox centre. She came out so well and happy that I thought if she got away for a real holiday, this time the detox might work.’

  ‘And how was your fiancée with all this?’ Fran asked, although no doubt she’d guessed the answer.

  He studied her, thinking back to that time.

  ‘I’d always thought she understood—understood that to me Liane was family, so I had to take care of her. It didn’t make me love Sally any less, and I thought she knew that.’

  ‘Did you tell her?’

  He paused, startled by Fran’s words.

  ‘She’d have known,’ he said. ‘Although I knew, at first, she was slightly put out that Liane needed so much of my attention, I was sure she understood. But it was only when I paid for a trip to Bali for Liane that Sally got particularly frosty, reminding me I’d been promising she and I would have a holiday like that. We worked through it somehow but when Liane returned, she was determined to start afresh and focus on her career. She was a wonderful singer. It wasn’t long before she hooked up with an agent who offered her a flat, a job and, eventually, drugs.’

  ‘Poor woman,’ Fran said, shaking her head.

  ‘Poor woman indeed,’ he said, remembering the woman he’d loved for so long when she’d come back to his place that last time. ‘She turned to me again when she discovered she was five months pregnant by someone she’d met in Bali—and although she wanted the baby and knew the drugs were bad for it, she couldn’t keep off them.’

  He’d been toying with his fork but now he looked up at Fran.

  ‘I had to take her in, but it was too late. The baby, Nikki, was drug addicted when she was born, and Liane died soon after.’

  ‘And your fiancée?’

  ‘Gone the day Liane came back that last time. Gone because she felt I cared more for Liane than I did for her.’

  ‘She was your sister,’ Fran said, reaching out to remove the fork from his hand and hold it in hers.

  ‘She was. And when I was ten years old I had loved Liane. But Sally was to be my wife! I should have seen what was happening, understood how she felt, made more of an effort to help her accept the situation.’

  ‘And would that have helped?’ Fran asked.

  He shrugged and shook his head, the memories so painful there were no words.

  Although...

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘Actually, apart from losing not only a fiancée and also a good nurse, and not marrying at that stage of my life, the rest of it turned out all right. One of my other foster sisters adopted Liane’s baby, and battled through the early years when little Nikki was so sick. But in the end, by sheer serendipity, she met and fell in love with Nikki’s birth father—the man Liane had met in Bali. They’re married now and expecting another child, so fairy-tales do happen.’

  ‘Just not to you?’

  He looked up into Fran’s lovely eyes.

  ‘I was beginning to think perhaps they did,’ he said softly, and saw tears well again as she shook her head, let go his hand, and began to busily clear the table.

  But talking of the past—of Sally—had reminded him that relationships with work colleagues weren’t a particularly good thing.

  Although Fran was only a temporary work colleague...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHILE THE NIGHTS remained filled with sensual delight and sexual satisfaction, the days developed a routine, Steve implanting tiny embryos, Fran freezing those that had developed sufficiently to be used in the future. It was here that she had to be meticulous, showing Arthur how to choose the best ones to freeze, then how to extract all the water from the tiny bunch of cells, replacing it with a special anti-freeze.

  Next came freezing, placing the tiny embryo in a straw, cooling them very slowly so no shards of ice formed to pierce the precious cells. Once frozen, the straws went into canes, and with this the embryologist had to be particularly careful with identification. Fran continued using coloured tags within the little containers, further labelling them all with names and numbers corresponding to the various couples.

  But even though she was busy with the freezing, she was finding the wait for confirmation of pregnancy very difficult. She knew it was partly because it brought back memories of her own days of waiting, but it seemed worse because she knew and liked these people, had spoken to them, and now dreaded to think how they’d react if they found the IVF cycle they’d been through had failed.

  ‘Worrying about failure?’ Steve asked, breezing into the lab where she had been watching Arthur do ICSI on Mrs Yellow’s eggs.

  ‘Do I look worried?’ she snapped, m
ostly because seeing him unexpectedly like this did terrible things to her heart, and different terrible things to her body.

  Her heart was weeping because it knew their time together was nearly over, while her body still wanted to rush him off to bed—or anywhere private—every time she saw him.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, coming closer and resting his hand on her forearm. ‘Knowing the statistics—that terrible forty percent success rate that’s considered the norm—we’re all entitled to worry. But we never take on patients unless they’ve been through a lot of counselling and they know the odds as well as we do.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Fran said. ‘I suppose it’s different because I’ve met them, talked to them. Back in the lab at the hospital in Sydney, I not only didn’t know the couples, but often I didn’t know who’d conceived and who hadn’t. This is too close, I suppose.’

  Steve was watching her as she spoke, and guessed there was more to it than she said. She was as uptight as the couples who were waiting for news, possibly more so. And in bed there seemed to be a desperation in her lovemaking, as if she wanted to drown out all thought with passion.

  Could he take her away?

  Over to Kakuhla?

  He did the numbers in his head.

  ‘What’s worrying you?’

  Fran’s voice broke into his calculations.

  Aware Alex was in the room with them, he had to phrase his reply carefully.

  ‘I was thinking, as we’re nearing the end of your visit to the islands, I could show you around a little, maybe take you over to Kakuhla Island, which is beautiful and not too far to travel.’

  ‘But won’t the Reds be ready for testing about the same time you’re implanting the embryo in the Purples?’

  He nodded. He might have known she could add up as well as he could.

  ‘I was thinking that I could leave Alex to do the first of the pregnancy testing—after all, the couples involved have no doubt been doing tests themselves. But then I realised I couldn’t—couldn’t let down the couples by not being there should this cycle have been a failure. I want to be the one with them, and to talk to them about options. It’s why we stay a month.’

  He brooded on it for a moment, then rather reluctantly added, ‘Although you could go over to the island, or do a few island-hopping trips yourself. Zoe would be happy to show you around.’

  Her smile was so bright he was struck by the realisation he loved this woman, so when she said, ‘You’re a good man, Steve Ransome,’ he was filled with happiness.

  And knew he had to fight to keep her.

  He left the lab, needing to think through this latest development.

  Yes, he’d known almost from the start that he’d wanted the relationship to continue when they both returned to Sydney because she was intelligent, good company, understood his work and another dozen reasons, including their compatibility in bed.

  But love?

  He’d set romance aside after the disaster with Sally. Instead, he’d concentrated on learning all he could about IVF before setting up his own clinic. There’d been women since, but none had been more important than his work, so they’d shared mutual enjoyment and passed on.

  But Fran was different.

  Fran really was a keeper!

  But how to convince her that they were meant to be together?

  Did she not love him?

  That was certainly a possibility but their lovemaking was no longer ‘fling’ stuff, it had grown into something special, wild at times admittedly but nurturing, caring...

  Loving?

  He shook his head, going back into the clinic to talk to Alex because thinking about Fran was driving him insane.

  Especially when she appeared five minutes later, not having given him time to get her right out of his head.

  ‘What about the other couple?’ she asked. ‘The ones you said might not be quite ready for egg retrieval. Surely by now they would be?’

  Still reeling from the realisation that he was in love with her, Steve couldn’t work out an answer, so Alex took the question.

  ‘The cycle failed,’ he said quietly, and Steve saw Fran flinch. ‘The eggs failed to develop. Steve and I were discussing it now, thinking we might try IVM on them. Not right away, of course, because the cycle might have caused some special problem, but in a couple of months.’

  Fran nodded, although the pain she felt for this couple was almost overwhelming. Her third cycle had ended this way, and that’s when she had been told it would be useless to try again.

  Which had seemed only to please Nigel.

  She turned to Steve. ‘You’d come back to do it?’

  ‘Alex and I were talking about that as well. I’ve got a young O and G specialist who’s been working in my clinic for a few months. I’m wondering whether, with his experience and Alex’s, and a good embryologist, they could do it themselves. It’s where we’d always hoped to go, to have people here who could handle the whole process.’

  Fran thought about it for a moment.

  ‘Do the islands have the population numbers to make it viable?’ she asked, and he smiled.

  She wished he wouldn’t—it distracted her—so she had to catch up with what he was saying.

  ‘Probably not, although time will tell. But it wouldn’t have to make a profit and the hospital can use the services of two O and G specialists. The embryologist would be a problem as there wouldn’t be full-time work.’

  And suddenly a way opened up and the future became clear.

  Steve was setting this up so he could be at home, finding a wife, starting a family, so...

  And Andy would know...

  Talk to her about it...

  Which would be a thousand times worse than her mother’s progress reports on Clarissa’s pregnancy, which, now she came to think of it, no longer bothered her at all!

  ‘I could stay,’ she said, letting the thought settle about her and feeling how right it was. ‘I don’t need a full-time income, and I already love this place and the people. I could help with counselling too, because I’ve done that with couples who want to know how the whole process works. I’d have to give notice at work, and sort out my apartment, sell or rent, pack up, but I could do it.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Alex said, ‘because your job is so important to the whole cycle. Arthur is good but he is still learning, and with your experience you could help with advice to me, and the new doctor, should we need it. We could make a wonderful team.’

  ‘Andy would kill me for taking you away from him,’ Steve said, although his voice seemed strained as if there were other things he’d rather be saying. ‘He went on about it enough when I only wanted to borrow you for four weeks.’

  ‘Andy has plenty of good people to take my place,’ she told him. ‘I should know, I trained most of them.’

  ‘Then maybe one of them might like the island life as much as you seem to,’ he said, and she had to smile, although she knew it was a weak effort.

  ‘I was here first,’ she said firmly, although inside she was quaking, well aware she’d made this decision because it seemed to solve her loving-Steve dilemma. Removed from him by a large ocean, she’d surely get over him one day?

  ‘Well, if you’re really serious that’s a fantastic offer,’ Steve said bluntly, ‘but I think we’re running before we can walk. Alex and I were still at the talking-about-it stage, and I’ll be back in three or four months anyway so the couple who failed can join that programme. Now, if we’re quite finished here, I’ve got an appointment at the hospital.’

  Alex looked rather surprised by this announcement, and as Steve walked out the door, Alex turned to Fran.

  ‘What’s eating him?’ he asked. ‘I’ve known Steve for years and although I’ve seen him upset when cycles don’t produce pre
gnancies, and angry when people make mistakes, today he just seems grumpy, and I’d have sworn he was one man who didn’t do grumpy.’

  ‘Everyone does grumpy,’ Fran told Alex, hoping she didn’t sound similarly bad-tempered.

  She left the clinic, going back down to the quarters, feeling thwarted. For a few minutes it had seemed as if she’d been offered a lifeline—a way of getting away from Steve for long enough to get over him—but he’d cut it off.

  Although...

  She remembered Andy asking her if she’d known Steve, way back when this trip had first been mooted, and she’d told him no, so if they’d both been living in the same city for years and hadn’t run into each other, how likely was it that they would when they got back?

  Unless he persisted with this idea that whatever they had could continue in Sydney.

  She should tell him.

  And have him pity her?

  Hadn’t she had enough of that from Nigel’s colleagues’ wives, who had apparently known about her trouble getting pregnant from the start?

  Former friends they were now, unable to understand the pain she felt whenever she saw their happy, healthy, children.

  Body in automatic mode, she’d pulled food from the refrigerator while these dismal thoughts raced through her head. But looking at it now, the makings of a salad, a wrap to put around it—she didn’t feel hungry. She had nothing to do, so she’d go for a walk—maybe even a run.

  * * *

  Steve made his way over to the hospital, only too aware there was no reason for him to be going there, although he knew he’d find someone to talk to or something to do.

  Not that he’d be much use to anyone, his mind was too full of questions.

  First was the revelation that had struck him back at the clinic—the realisation that what he felt for Fran might be love.

  Could it be?

  His reaction to her offer to stay on here certainly suggested it was. He’d felt physically sick at the thought of not seeing her, not sitting with her over meals, sleeping in the same bed.