From Heartache to Forever

by Caroline Anderson

  If that was what you could call her, the woman you’d had a brief affair with, who’d ended up giving birth to a baby whose heart was so compromised she’d been doomed from the moment of conception.

  There had to be a better word than ‘friend.’ It was what she’d called herself when he’d thanked her for all her help, but she was so much more than that, their relationship so complicated, and he knew they’d be bound together for ever by the heartbreaking loss of their tiny daughter.

  His chest squeezed, and he focused his attention on his patient and put Beth, their baby and his guilt out of his mind.

  * * *

  It was after eight before she heard the scrunch of tyres, and she gave the bedding a last swipe with her hand to straighten it, then opened the door.

  ‘Beth, I can’t believe you’re still here!’ he said instantly, his face hugely apologetic. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be gone ages ago. Have they not come yet?’

  ‘Yes, of course they have, they came at five. I’ve just been pottering and waiting for you. Jenny rang me so I knew you’d be late.’

  ‘I didn’t. Not this late, anyway, and there was no way I could leave.’

  ‘No, I gather you had another really nasty RTC with multiple casualties. Nice, gentle introduction on your first day.’

  He snorted softly. ‘Tell me about it. At least I was working with you, which made it significantly easier. So I assume everything was OK with the furniture?’

  ‘Fine—lovely. Come and have a look.’

  She opened the bedroom door, and he stopped in his tracks.

  ‘They built the bed?’

  ‘No, I did, because I didn’t think you’d want to do it after such a hectic shift.’

  He stared at her. ‘You did it? Wow. I didn’t for a moment expect you to do that, Beth. Thank you.’

  ‘It was easy,’ she said, lying slightly because another pair of hands would have been hugely useful. ‘Eight bolts and a few screws.’ She waggled an Allen key at him. ‘They even provided the technology.’

  He gave a soft laugh, and hugged her.

  ‘Thank you so much. I really wasn’t expecting—’

  She put her hand over his mouth, cutting him off. ‘Hush. You’ve spent your life looking after people. I thought it was time someone looked after you a bit.’

  He reached up and caught her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm before threading his fingers through hers.

  ‘Thank you.’

  His eyes were filled with a host of conflicting emotions, and she guessed he was just as confused as she was. And it really didn’t help that there was a massive bed right beside them...

  She retrieved her hand gently and stepped out of reach, ignoring the tingling in her palm. ‘I hope I used the right bedding. It was new, but it was all I could find that would fit.’

  ‘No, that’s great, it’s all there is,’ he said, his voice unexpectedly gruff. ‘Did the sofa come?’

  ‘Yes, they unpacked it and the coffee table and took all the packaging away. It looks really good. Go and see.’

  She followed him into the sitting room with a silent sigh of relief, and he sat down on the sofa, then swung his legs up and groaned contentedly. ‘Wow. An actual sofa, long enough to lie on—and it’s comfy. That’s such a luxury.’ He looked around and laughed softly. ‘It looks almost homely, in a rather bare sort of way. And the floor’s beautiful.’

  He got to his feet, staring down into her eyes searchingly. ‘Look, I could do with a shower, but I’m hungry, and if you haven’t eaten yet, how about going out for something? Nothing fancy, just a pub—or we can go posh, if you like. Up to you.’

  Her stomach rumbled, and she gave him a wry smile. ‘Food’s probably a good idea. I haven’t even given it a thought but there’s not a lot in my fridge. I was going shopping after work but I got slightly side-tracked.’

  ‘Then I’m definitely buying you dinner,’ he said firmly, the guilt back in his eyes. ‘Go home, get changed while I shower, and I’ll pick you up in half an hour. And work out where you want to go.’

  She nodded, then on impulse went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. The brush of stubble against her lips sent a shockwave through her body, and she dropped back onto her heels and headed for the door, more confused than ever.

  ‘See you in half an hour, then,’ she said lightly, and walked out, letting out a quiet rush of breath.

  Clearly her body hadn’t forgotten him, then...

  * * *

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I thought the Harbour Inn?’

  Really? He glanced at her, then away again quickly before she could read his expression. Of all the places to choose...

  ‘If you like. It’s nice and close.’

  He headed down towards the little yacht harbour, to the pub where they’d had lunch nearly two and a half years ago, just before he’d kissed her for the first time and set the ball rolling.

  He’d split up with Katie when he’d realised she was trying to get pregnant to stop him joining MFA, and Beth had been right there at the time, working alongside him in Theatre, intriguing him, tempting him—but when after a few weeks he’d asked her out she’d said no, holding him at arm’s length because she didn’t want a relationship.

  Well, neither did he, not so soon after Katie, and maybe not for years, but that didn’t make him a monk, and after a week when everyone in the Midlands seemed hell-bent on injuring themselves and they’d been trapped together in Theatre for countless hours, the tension simmering between them had reached breaking point.

  He’d needed to get away, get out of the city and away from Beth, but by sheer coincidence they’d both been scheduled for a long weekend off, so he’d put his cards on the table and asked her to go away with him. No strings, no commitment, no relationship, just a few days of adult fun by the seaside after the week from hell, and with any luck it’d get it out of his system.

  If she’d said no it would have made life awkward, but frankly it had been awkward enough, so he’d had nothing to lose.

  She hadn’t. To his astonishment she’d said yes, so he’d booked a room in a posh spa hotel in Yoxburgh and picked her up on the Saturday morning with a tingling sense of anticipation. They’d been too early to check in, so they’d driven down to the harbour, found the little pub and had lunch, then gone for a stroll along the riverbank to kill time.

  And then he’d lifted her down off the stile and kissed her.

  She hadn’t held him at arm’s length then, and they’d spent most of the next two days in bed having the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life.

  He parked the car, slammed the door on his thoughts and headed into the pub with Beth.

  ‘It hasn’t changed at all,’ he murmured.

  ‘No. I doubt if it’s changed for decades. All part of its charm, I guess. So, what are we having?’

  ‘Fish and chips.’

  She laughed at him. ‘Well, that’s healthy.’

  ‘I don’t care. You can have whatever you like, but after a day like today I need comfort food and calories.’

  She gave a low chuckle, the sound running over his nerves like teasing fingertips, and his body leapt to life.

  ‘I might have the baked cod with a salad,’ she said, and then she tilted her head and looked at him. ‘How’s Jim? Any news?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s OK. They took out his left kidney, and he’s got an ex-fix on his leg, but he’s doing all right. He’s alive, anyway.’

  ‘Good. How about the RTC that held you up this evening?’

  ‘Well, they all made it, which is a relief. It’s never good to lose a patient on your first day.’

  She chuckled again, and he gave her an answering smile, but hers faded and she studied him thoughtfully.

  ‘It was good working together again,’ she said, and he nodded slowly.


  ‘Yes. Yes, it was. I’d almost forgotten how intuitive we are together. It was like you knew what I’d want without me asking, but then you always could read my mind.’

  ‘Or maybe I’m just a good nurse and know my stuff.’

  He arched a brow, and she pretended to scowl at him, her mouth puckering and making him want to kiss it.

  He put his hands in the air, giving up the fight to hold back his smile. ‘Sorry, sorry. You are a good nurse. Best I’ve ever worked with. Is that better?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’ Her smile was back, playing around her mouth and softening her eyes, and for a moment he had an overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her—

  ‘Fish and chips?’

  He sat back, took a long, slow breath and looked up at their server.

  ‘Yeah, that’s mine.’ And in the nick of time...

  * * *

  ‘Coffee? Unless you want to get back to your lovely new bed?’

  He hesitated, then gave in, knowing it was foolish, knowing he was on a knife edge but unable to walk away.

  ‘It’ll keep another half hour. Coffee would be lovely.’ He cut the engine and followed her into her house. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘No, you’re fine, go and sit down, I’ll bring it through.’

  So while she put the kettle on he wandered into the sitting room and closed the curtains, then sat down to wait for her, his eyes seeking out the little silver box as they always did, his heart heavy.

  If they’d known before that weekend what was to follow, none of this would have happened, but of course they hadn’t. They’d spent the next two months together in blissful ignorance, and then in late January MFA had sent him on his first posting.

  No strings, he’d said, so he’d had no contact with her, which had been fine because he’d been too busy to think about anything else, but then he’d come back on leave in early May, and he’d discovered she was pregnant.

  It was his worst nightmare, the last thing he’d ever wanted to hear, and his first instinct was anger because he thought she’d done it on purpose, but then she told him their baby girl had such hugely complex congenital heart defects that she was unlikely to make it to term, and his world fell apart.

  He was still reeling with shock when they lost her at twenty-seven weeks, the child he hadn’t even known about until the week before. The child he hadn’t wanted—or hadn’t known he wanted until it was too late. The child he would never have the chance to get to know because her little heart had given up the unequal struggle and stopped beating before he could meet her and tell her how much he loved her.

  He’d spent two years trying to forget, but he knew now he never would.

  He walked over to the little silver box and picked it up with infinite tenderness, nestling it in his palm, his other hand stroking it, needing to touch it, to touch her, to hold her again.

  His poor, perfect, broken baby girl.

  Why?

  ‘Ry?’

  He put the heart down gently, as if not to wake her, and walked into Beth’s open arms.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured gruffly, his voice a little ragged. ‘Why did it happen, Beth? Did they ever find out?’

  ‘No. They have no idea. They didn’t find anything in the tests—no chromosomal abnormalities, no genetic links, nothing to indicate it was anything other than a fault in her embryonic development. Just a glitch. One of those things.’

  She eased out of his arms and sat down, patting the sofa beside her.

  ‘Come on, sit down and drink your coffee.’

  He sat, but his eyes kept going back to the little heart and the pretty box beside it. Pandora’s box...

  She put her mug down and looked at him, her eyes searching.

  ‘Do you want to look at it now?’

  Could she read his mind? Maybe.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She got up again and went over to the box, bringing it back and putting it down on the coffee table, just out of reach. He could feel his heart beating, feel every thud against his ribs, taste the fear.

  But fear of what? The contents of the box, or his own feelings? Maybe it was time to face them both.

  He put his mug down and reached out, picking up the box and resting it gently on his knees. Like Pandora’s box, once opened, things could never go back to how they’d been. Could he risk that?

  He swallowed, sucked in a long, slow breath and lifted the lid.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WAS THE letter that finished him.

  He was expecting the rest. The beautiful little box contained all the poignant things he’d tried to blank out, like the tiny, precious footprints the midwife had made for them, the photographs she’d taken of them together holding Grace, the blanket they’d wrapped her in as they’d held her for hours in their arms before they said goodbye.

  But at the bottom of the box was a single folded sheet of paper, and he lifted it out and unfolded it, totally unprepared for what it was.

  A letter, from Beth to her baby daughter.

  My darling Grace

  I can’t tell you how much I love you, how much I miss you every single day, with all my heart. But you’ll always be part of me, and you’re with me wherever I go.

  Carrying you in my body for your short life, giving birth to you, holding you in my arms, was an honour and a privilege I will never forget, and I’m so grateful I had that chance.

  You are the best part of me, and I will treasure you forever.

  Sleep tight, my darling.

  Mummy xxx

  The words swam in front of him, and she took the letter gently from his nerveless fingers and replaced it in the box with all the other precious things, then gathered him in her arms and held him while the racking sobs tore him apart.

  She said nothing, just held him and rocked him, and gradually the pain subsided, leaving him feeling oddly cleansed, as if he’d been wiped clean.

  Except not, because Grace’s name, her footprints, her photo, and the memories they’d made that day were engraved on his heart, an indelible part of him just as they were of Beth, and it felt right.

  She handed him tissues, then said gently, ‘I guess that’s been a long time coming.’

  He gave a ragged, fractured laugh and met her eyes, tender with understanding. ‘I guess so. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It’s OK to cry. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve cried for her.’

  He swiped the tears off his cheeks again with the palms of his hands and shook his head to clear it. ‘I haven’t, though. I haven’t let myself. That’s why I didn’t want to see. I suppose I’ve been in denial, really, ignoring it, but it didn’t work, because it’s always been there, deep inside, gnawing away at me like acid. It’s odd. It doesn’t feel like that any more. I’m sad, of course I’m sad, and I guess I always will be, but it’s like a weight’s lifted—does that make sense?’

  She nodded. ‘It makes absolute sense. It’s acceptance, Ry. It takes a while to get there, but it makes it easier. You’ll still have bad days, though, times when things bring it all back and it catches you on your blind side.’

  He nodded and leant back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and holding her as they sat there quietly together. They didn’t speak, but for the first time he let himself think about the events of that day, the day their daughter had been born.

  He thought about her delivery, how hard it had been all night knowing that at the end of it they would have nothing but memories. They’d induced her, because Beth didn’t want to wait, and she’d refused all pain relief, wanting to feel every last moment of it because it was the last thing she could do for her daughter, so he’d been there for her, supporting her as well as he could while his heart felt as if it had been locked in ice.

  It had been a long night, and then as the
first fingers of dawn crept over the horizon and touched the sky with gold, the midwife lifted Grace’s tiny body tenderly into Beth’s waiting arms.

  He’d stood there helpless in the deafening silence, the silence that should have been filled with a baby’s cries, feeling as if he had no place there, no role in the tragedy, no way of making it better, but he’d been unable to leave them and so he’d stayed, eyes dry and gritty with exhaustion, his body as tight as a bowstring, his heart numb while Beth wept silent tears and spoke softly to her daughter.

  And then she’d placed the baby in his arms, and his heart had cracked in two. It was the first and last time he’d cried for her, until tonight, and even then he hadn’t really let go.

  A week later they’d gone together to register her birth and death, and then they’d held a quiet funeral service for her. Three days later he’d been recalled for his next posting by MFA and she’d told him to go, so he’d gone, relieved to be able to escape the all-consuming grief and get on and do something useful that would help someone somewhere, even though he couldn’t help her or himself.

  Except of course there had been no escape, just a fierce suppression of his emotions until he’d become so used to it he’d thought he was over it.

  Apparently not. Not by a long way.

  He broke the silence at last, needing to acknowledge what she’d been through and his guilt for leaving her to deal with it alone. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t more help. I don’t know how you did it—how you were so strong, so brave, through all of it.’

  ‘I wasn’t brave, Ry, not at all. I was just doing what had to be done, and then once it was done I just felt empty.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have left you.’

  She took his hand and kissed it, then held it in her hands, warm and firm and kind, Beth all over.

  ‘I sent you away, Ryan. I couldn’t deal with your grief as well as mine, and that was wrong. We should have grieved together for our daughter, but we didn’t know each other well enough. We still don’t, but we’re learning, day by day, and we’ll get there.’