Baby Miracle in the ER

by Sue MacKay

  His sister laughed. ‘I’m stoked! Michael, I just called to say I’m cooking dinner tonight. Crumbed chicken legs with roast vegetables. We’ll also be staying over since Steph’s working. Do you need me to get anything from the supermarket?’

  ‘Got it under control. We’re heading there now.’ Chantelle was helping him out for a second night in a row? She wanted something, for sure.

  ‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ Chantelle asked. ‘There will be trundlers going wild and toddlers running around not giving a care for an old guy on crutches. I can get whatever you need.’

  ‘I do not need babysitting twenty-four hours a day,’ he said grumpily, not telling his sister that Stephanie had already made sure he didn’t go alone. Bloody women—outmanoeuvring him all too easily.

  Chantelle laughed.

  Beside him Stephanie chuckled as she drove.

  ‘Give me a break, you two.’

  They both laughed harder. Ignoring them was the only way to go. But he couldn’t deny the warmth filtering in at the thought that they both cared.

  Then Chantelle quietened. ‘Michael, stop pushing me away. Let me do something for you for a change.’

  She paused. Gathering strength for battle?

  ‘I’ll see you round six-thirty. Bye.’

  Gone.

  Michael stared at the instrument in his hand. What had just happened? Chantelle wanted to stand up and be counted as a helpful sister? No, there had to be more to this, but damned if he knew what. There was only one way to find out—play the wait-and-see game. It wasn’t as if he had to be anywhere today apart from the supermarket. At least with his sister the wait wouldn’t take for ever, patience not being part of her make-up.

  Patience was supposed to be a virtue. But it was one Michael found he didn’t have any more of than his sister.

  Not when pensioners were clearly blind and in charge of shopping carts. Not when office workers in a hurry to get their lunch thought their getting served at the deli counter took precedence over everyone else. Not when Stephanie insisted on taking his shopping list and running up and down the aisles collecting items without consulting him on which coffee he preferred, how many grains he liked in his bread, and whether he preferred sirloin to fillet steak.

  ‘Give me that,’ he growled as she put a pack of steak in the trolley he was apparently supposed to be leaning against when he got tired of swinging around the place on his crutches.

  Reaching to get the pack, he ignored the stab of pain from bumping his thigh against the unforgiving corner of the shopping cart. Fillet steak was for girls. A decent, thick sirloin was the only steak he’d have in his house. After returning Stephanie’s choice to the cabinet he searched through every pack of sirloin to find the perfect piece of meat.

  ‘This one,’ he said with satisfaction, his mouth watering at the thought of eating steak for dinner. Except it would have to wait. His sister was on dinner duty tonight, and he couldn’t find it in himself to override her offer. It wouldn’t be fair when she was already busy and going out of her way for him.

  Chicken it was tonight. Tomorrow he’d be in charge of his kitchen and the steak.

  By the time Stephanie had loaded all the bags of groceries into the boot of his car and then loaded him into the passenger seat he was shattered.

  ‘Thanks for doing this. I’d have given up long before I got to the end of my list.’

  ‘I know.’

  Okay, so she could gloat.

  ‘We won’t go to my place. I can do that on the way to work.’

  It was in the opposite direction to the ambulance base.

  ‘What? And deprive me of an outing?’ He grinned. ‘It’s been years since I spent a whole day and night at home, let alone two. I’m going stir crazy.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  Somewhere amongst the cereals and the tinned vegetables she’d lightened up on him. He was back in favour—if only as someone she had to look after in a friendly manner. That kiss had been filed away somewhere in that beautiful head. Hopefully she’d think about it some more—when he was out of the firing line.

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’

  Leave it...say no more.

  ‘Stephanie, about earlier...?’ He was doing a lot of this apologising stuff lately.

  ‘Drop it, Michael. We’re adults. We make mistakes. Now we move on.’

  And the car, mirroring her words, bunny-hopped down the gap between rows of parked cars to the corner leading out onto the main road, where finally Stephanie got herself, or at least his car, under control.

  Neither said a word for the ten minutes it took to reach her house. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as if it was about to get away and she hunched forward, her eyes darting left, right, ahead, left and right again, as she’d have been taught on the ambulances.

  He hadn’t been there before, and her house came as a surprise. An early twentieth-century villa surrounded by established trees and overlong grass, it was delightful and reminded him of his grandparents’ home. The gardens were minimal—probably because she’d rented the place out while she’d been away.

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  And nothing like the home he’d have thought Stephanie would live in. These villas came with the continuous maintenance required by wooden window frames, lack of good insulation, and open fires that looked wonderful as they belched smoke and little heat.

  Steph sat back in her seat and stared out and around. ‘Yes, I fell for it the moment Freddy and I walked up the drive.’

  Her voice was low, but not as sad as he’d have expected. She was doing fine.

  ‘It was going to be perfect for us and those babies we wanted. The big bedrooms, massive lounge, all this lawn for swings and a sandpit, a vegetable garden out the back.’

  Her gaze slowly tracked from one side of the section to the other, seeing things he could only guess at.

  Michael’s heart slowed. This house had been her dream, had held all her wishes and ambitions. An unfulfilled dream.

  Reaching for her hand, he said, ‘I’m sorry.’ He really was.

  Startled eyes turned to him. ‘It’s okay. I’ve mostly moved on, but there are times when something flips me back to then. Like the other day, with those prem babies. I think it’s all part of settling back into Auckland—back into my old life without actually living that life again.’

  ‘Do you want to?’ He held his breath.

  A soft smile broke out. ‘No.’ Another glance at her property. ‘And I mean that. Like I told you, Freddy and I are history. It was a good marriage that didn’t survive the stress of my infertility. I don’t want to go back to what I had. I want to grab the future, make the most of what I do have, and not waste energy rueing my losses.’

  He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even move. She was so brave, and he knew that courage had come from what had gone on in her life. Her future was here, unfolding day by day.

  She hadn’t been ready for him two years ago. He’d hurt her by calling an end to their affair, but she wouldn’t have been able to cope with a full-on, permanent relationship then. She’d had to get away from the cloak that was Auckland and her family and a job she’d lost herself in.

  ‘I won’t be a minute.’ She opened her door.

  ‘Mind if I come in? I’d like to see around your home.’ He wanted to see her style. Modern or classic? Were there lots of books on shelves? Little ornaments in cabinets?

  ‘You just like knocking that leg, getting in and out of the car.’ Her smile widened and she was at his door in a flash, a hand offering him balance as he climbed out. ‘Don’t even think of offering to mow the lawns. I know they’re too long, but I’ll get them done at the weekend.’

  ‘Wouldn’t think of it,’ he fibbed.

  She was safe at the moment anyway.

  * * *
>
  Steph chuckled. ‘You can do better than that. I know you’re itching to get my mower out of the shed.’ Although it was a machine that needed new sparkplugs and its blades sharpened.

  ‘At the moment I’d be happy to sweep your drive.’

  ‘You’re bored. I get it. You’re also impatient.’

  Why was he laughing at that?

  ‘Come on—I’ll give you the grand tour.’

  She looked around the yard. There was a heap of work to be done before spring, when the trees would start sprouting. The hedge was out of control and the gardens were a riot of weeds. Exhaustion sank through her. She just couldn’t dredge up the enthusiasm those tasks had brought her in the past.

  Inside, the temperature could have done with being cranked up, but with her being away and the fire not lit it wasn’t going to happen. Besides, she’d run out of firewood days ago and hadn’t got around to ordering in another load, what with everything else she’d been doing. She knew that if she told her dad there’d be wood stacked in her shed by the end of the day. If she told him. She wouldn’t.

  Michael was right behind her as she entered the sitting room.

  ‘You could hold a party for a hundred people in here and have room to spare.’ He was looking around at the high ceilings, panelled walls, her minimal furniture tucked into one small space in front of the fireplace.

  ‘Sixty-five, actually.’ She shivered, and not only because it was freezing in here. ‘My twenty-sixth birthday.’

  It had been a wonderful night, and she’d been so happy. Now this room only gave her goosebumps.

  ‘Come and look at the rest.’

  Ten minutes later she was locking her front door, with a bag of clothes over her shoulder and the truth opening her eyes. This house no longer excited her. It was too big, too empty, too old. It was the past. Now she wanted to sell it and start again, with small and cosy, modern and easy-care. But could she afford it in Auckland’s current volatile housing market, where prices rose by the day?

  Only one way to find out.

  She’d talk to a real estate agent later.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘WHIPPITY-DO, FINALLY HOME...’ Steph sang off-key as she let herself into Michael’s house next morning. It had been a quiet shift compared to the previous one. She’d even managed to snatch an hour and a half sleep upstairs in one of the staff bedrooms towards the end.

  A yawn warned her that that wasn’t enough, but it would get her through the next hour or so while she made breakfast for everyone, and walked Zac, and checked out Michael’s leg.

  Michael.

  Yesterday’s incendiary kiss had been a warning. She could not continue to do this and come out unscathed. But then she’d known that when she’d decided to go for him. The only difference between before that kiss and after was that now she knew she’d be looking out for herself along the way.

  Zac bounded out from the kitchen, his thick tail flipping from side to side, endangering a large ceramic pot in the entranceway.

  ‘Hey, good to see you too,’ she said as she rubbed his solid head. Being welcomed home was cool—and nice. ‘Thanks for choosing my door to slobber all over the other day.’

  Michael was already up and in the kitchen, filling the kettle. ‘Morning. How was your night?’

  ‘No major emergencies for once. How about you? Get some sleep?’

  He wouldn’t admit it if the pain had kept him awake but she had to ask.

  ‘Plenty. I’ve been out running a lap of the block, given my car an oil change, and got a cake cooking in the oven.’ His mouth was tight, his lips white, but there was mischief in his eyes.

  Dropping her bag and keys on the table she grinned. ‘Good. What’re you planning on for dinner tonight?’

  Two mugs with teabags in them sat on the bench.

  ‘Chantelle gone already?’

  ‘She forgot to get Aaron clean clothes last night before coming here so she had to head away early.’

  Opening the fridge to get eggs, Steph spotted cooked chicken drumsticks and took one. ‘You did make dinner.’

  Though there hadn’t been any chicken in that shopping yesterday.

  Biting into the cold meat she felt her mouth water. ‘Yum.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Apparently I have a sister who’s quite capable of cooking.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she be? Look at Aaron—he’s not malnourished.’

  ‘Takeout food could do that.’ Scepticism resonated in his voice.

  ‘Come on, Michael, that’s not fair.’

  Glancing across at him she felt her mouth dry. Even in loose trackies and a sweatshirt he looked delectable. Way tastier than the chicken.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he muttered. ‘Chantelle has never been able to look after herself properly—has always had my number on speed dial...number one at that.’

  ‘This is the sister who’s been happy to stay here with you for the last two nights?’

  ‘The very one.’

  ‘You’re not making a lot of sense. The moment Chantelle heard about your accident she was here for you.’

  Opening the fridge, she stole another drumstick. To hell with eggs on toast. This was way quicker and easier. No cleaning up after involved.

  ‘That did surprise me, I admit.’ He got up to make the tea. ‘It’s not like her. I’ve always been there to help her, not the other way round. Same went for Carly, my other sister, until she went to England. “Michael, sort this.” “Michael, can you do that?” Of course I’m happy to help—always have been.’

  ‘Not so happy being on the receiving end, though.’

  Did he think he had a role to play in his sisters’ lives that only went one way? Back when she’d worked in the ED with him everyone had heard about his sisters and how he was always running around after them.

  ‘Maybe Chantelle’s saying thanks for everything you’ve done for her. Or maybe she’s just acting how family is supposed to—being there when you need help.’

  He stirred and stirred the teabags in the boiling water. ‘You know nothing about my family.’

  Putting a hand over his to stop the incessant stirring, she said, ‘Then tell me.’

  I want to know about them, about you, about how you all click.

  He shrugged her hand off, spooned out the teabags and added milk to the mix. ‘My dad left my mum when I was seven. I got to stay with him at weekends. He remarried and along came Carly and Chantelle. I adored them right from the first time I laid eyes on them. I finally had siblings and life was less lonely when I was hanging out at my dad’s house.’

  He sank onto his chair, sipped the tea.

  ‘Then Dad moved on again. I was thirteen, and he told me I had to step up and take care of my sisters because he couldn’t always be there for them. I wasn’t always there for them either since they lived with their mother, and me with mine a few streets away. At least he made it convenient in that respect.’

  That stank. Talk about handing over responsibility... Some parent that man had turned out to be.

  Steph took her mug to the table and sat down beside Michael. ‘I can see you taking on that responsibility.’ It was Michael to a tee. Or had being handed that role forged who he’d become? Forced him to take on the persona he didn’t know how to let go of?

  ‘There was a time when Chantelle lived on the edge. She was irresponsible and a little bit crazy.’

  ‘And you haven’t accepted that might be over now?’ Hang on. ‘You don’t blame yourself?’

  ‘I didn’t see the bad crowd she’d got in with for what it was until it was too late.’

  Yes, he was still definitely taking the fall for Chantelle. ‘Does she blame you?’

  ‘Of course not. But that doesn’t exonerate me. I gave my word I’d be there for my sisters no matter wha
t.’

  Steph took a gulp of tea. Okay, she was probably about to get kicked out—banished to the other side of the city. But...

  ‘You were thirteen and the girls’ half-brother. Not their father or their mother.’ Where was that woman in all this? ‘You didn’t have to shoulder all the responsibility. And even if you thought you had to when they were young they’re adults now. They can look out for themselves.’

  Michael stood up, snatched at his crutches as they started to slide towards the floor. ‘You’re wrong. It’s what I do, and what I will continue to do for Aaron as well. It’s why I live like this. There is no room for anyone else. There is no time for any more with my family and my job keeping me busy.’

  Message received, loud and clear. No time for her. Minutes for kissing, even more for sex, but nothing else. Certainly not involvement. And this was the man she loved, wanted to be with for the rest of her life.

  ‘You don’t want a family of your own?’

  Hurt filled his dark gaze even as he shook his head in denial. ‘You didn’t hear what I said?’

  ‘Yes, Michael, I did. But I don’t believe it all. I get it that you think you have to be there for your family. I don’t understand why you can’t have both. Others do and manage very well. It’s how families work.’ Hers did anyway.

  ‘Not mine.’ He started for the door.

  Steph stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘You sure that you’re not hiding behind this responsibility? That there’s not something else keeping you from finding happiness, having the life you want?’

  Something slipped into his gaze which she couldn’t read, but it suggested she’d touched a raw wound.

  ‘Stick to your day job, Stephanie. You’re so much better at that than trying to change me into what you think I should be.’

  Low blow. Probably deserved, but unfair. She loved him, and he had just closed the gate on going anywhere with that. Closed it and padlocked it. Why had she said anything? But she was always honest, no matter the consequences, and that was what she’d been just now. The price was huge, but at least she could live with herself.