The Accidental Daddy

by Meredith Webber

  He was in danger and the ring was right here on her finger!

  And she was feeling sorry for herself?

  Worry over Max’s safety now joined her concern for Harry and it took every bit of inner strength that she possessed to focus on her child—tiny and vulnerable on the operating table—and the operation.

  * * *

  Harry would be on the table now. A clock chiming somewhere nearby reminded Max where he should have been. He kept patching up the passenger who’d been allotted to him, but in his head he pictured Joey, there alone in theatre, seeing a knife cut into their child.

  Melodrama, Max? the cynic muttered in his head, and Max knew it was right. Harry was in the very best of hands.

  And Joey?

  He wished with all his heart she hadn’t experienced what life with him could offer quite so soon.

  She was a doctor, she’d understand.

  Wouldn’t she?

  ‘Is it worse than you thought?’

  His patient’s voice saved him from further mental torture, recalling him to the task his hands were undertaking automatically.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, startled out of his meandering thoughts.

  ‘You look so worried.’

  He smiled at the elderly man and finished bandaging the gash on his arm.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ he assured him. ‘We could send you to a hospital to have this cleaned better and maybe stitched, but the emergency rooms will all be very busy and you’d probably have to wait for hours. Do you have a GP you could see some time today?’

  The man agreed his own doctor would fit him in.

  ‘Once I tell him I was in the crash he’ll be only too pleased,’ he added. ‘Everyone will want to know about it.’

  Max smiled and wished him luck and moved on to the next patient.

  * * *

  They took Harry to the neonatal intensive care unit after the op, and Joey was sitting there beside his covered crib when Max came in. One look confirmed where he’d been. He’d obviously showered as his hair was still damp. He was wearing clean clothes under a theatre coat, but there were scratches on his face and his arms.

  He limped towards her and panic filled her chest.

  ‘You’re hurt!’

  He looked surprised.

  ‘Me, no, but I had to come straight here to say I was sorry, and just look at Harry. He’s okay? There was this crash, you see, and I was almost there.’

  ‘I heard, I guessed it’s where you were,’ Joey said crossly, worry still fluttering in her chest, ‘but why are you limping if you’re not hurt?’

  He looked down at his feet, covered with the soft cloth they used for theatre protection. He then lifted one of them.

  ‘No laces in this sneaker—it keeps coming off, even under the theatre cover. Bob loaned me clean clothes—he has an apartment here—but his shoes are two sizes too small. And his pants are too big—this belt is barely holding them up. But I didn’t want to waste time getting here.’

  She was so relieved she wanted to hit him, but he was already asking about the operation, about how Harry was doing.

  Joey kissed his scratched cheek.

  ‘Harry’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘Go and rest. You look exhausted.’

  He took her hand, looked into her face.

  ‘I am. And you? I hate that this had to happen, but it’s what I do.’

  ‘And you could no more ignore it than you could stop breathing,’ Joey said, kissing him again, this time on the lips.

  She didn’t add that she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Didn’t share her doubts about her ability to cope with what was obviously a very important part of his life.

  Did he read those doubts in her eyes that he squeezed her hand, touched her shoulder, and said quietly, ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

  Then he was gone, a tall, rangy, man, limping along to keep his shoe on...

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TO JOEY’S AND probably Max’s delight, Harry recovered quickly, off the ventilator within twenty-four hours and out of the NICU within forty-eight.

  Somehow Max had established a schedule, whereby he stayed by Harry’s crib at night, with Joey doing the day shifts. It had begun when he’d reminded her that she needed rest to ensure her milk supply—hardly a romantic notion but a thoughtful one nonetheless.

  But Joey was disappointed because it meant they saw less of one another, and she was beginning to believe that a marriage of convenience, for Harry’s benefit, was all Max wanted.

  A marriage of convenience with sex, she amended, remembering the heated kisses they’d shared on the occasions when they’d been alone in her room—or one day in the park, in daylight, when he’d insisted she take a walk in the sunshine.

  ‘I’ll be back to sit with him tonight,’ Max assured her, four days after the operation—the day Harry was due to start feeding on her breast, having tolerated the breast milk she’d been expressing for him. ‘And I’ll be here in the morning when they try him on the breast.’

  Harry, always Harry. Max was so clinical and detached, the medical staff the ‘they’ who would ‘try him on the breast’.

  And Joey snapped.

  ‘Hey, it’s me who’ll be helping him breastfeed for the first time, not some unrelated “they.”’

  Max looked surprised.

  ‘You’re upset?’

  ‘Now why on earth would you think that?’ she retorted, before her anger faded out with the swiftness of air from a pricked balloon.

  Because she knew his next question would be why, and how could she explain, when she really didn’t know herself?

  Had it been the stark realisation that their relationship was just a convenient one that had thrown her so much?

  He’d certainly be puzzled if she told him that, because it was obvious that’s all he was considering it to be.

  But he didn’t ask why, simply took her in his arms and held her close, and, weak female that she was deep down inside, she leaned on him and made the most of his warmth and comfort.

  She went to bed—so Harry’s breast milk supply would be top-notch, of course—but something had shifted between them.

  Since the op, or since the handing over of the ring?

  She wasn’t sure and really didn’t want to worry about it for fear her worry would communicate itself to Harry, and the first natural feeding would prove difficult.

  Not for Harry, as it turned out!

  With Max and a senior nurse watching, he fussed a little in the beginning then took to this new supply of food with great enthusiasm, so much so there was talk of him going home much earlier than they’d expected and excitement began to build in Joey.

  But in bed that night the excitement turned to apprehension.

  Would they all be going home?

  All three of them?

  To her home?

  If things between her and Max had become awkward here where they could get away from each other, how much worse would it be in her apartment?

  And would Max be expecting to be invited to live in her apartment or would the idea horrify him?

  Why, oh, why had she not thought through all this stuff?

  At least talked to him about it?

  Worrying over it wasn’t doing her any good. Max would be in with Harry, giving him the night feeds with milk she’d expressed earlier. She’d go and talk to him right now.

  And say what?

  She turned over in bed, pulled the pillow over her head and tried to sleep.

  ‘How about you come up to the coast with me today?’ he suggested two days later. ‘Get right away from the hospital for the day? Harry will be fine without us, you’ve got enough expressed breast milk there to feed a dozen babies, and you could
do with a break. I need to see the dean at the university but shouldn’t be more than an hour with him. You can take the hire car down to the beach and walk in the sand, splash in the waves, think about when we can take Harry to the beach.’

  She pushed away, stupid disappointment flooding the weak female part of her because yet again he was thinking not of her but of Harry.

  It’s convenience, she reminded herself for the thousandth time, but the reminder did little more than intensify the ache that had taken up residence in the region of her heart.

  ‘Thanks, but, no, thanks,’ she said, then thought back through his words to something that had caught her attention momentarily.

  ‘You hired a car? You could have taken mine.’

  Had it been yesterday or the day before, he’d proudly announced he’d fitted the baby capsule and returned her car to the private car park on the terrace?

  ‘I didn’t think of it.’

  The words came out slowly, and he studied her intently, then took her in his arms again.

  ‘We’re strangers, aren’t we?’ he said softly, pressing his head against the top of hers so the words were filtered through her hair. ‘With all the awkwardness that that entails.’

  He hugged her tightly then released her to hold her where he could see her face again.

  ‘It means we have to talk more to each other, until we learn to read each other’s moods and know each other’s secret doubts and fears. I’ve upset you, I know that, but I don’t know why. All I can say, Joey, is that I’d never knowingly hurt you, and I hope to heaven that I won’t do it unknowingly too often.’

  Heaven help me, Joey thought, hugging him in turn. How could I not have fallen in love with this man?

  Which didn’t help all the nagging worries she had one bit!

  He left the hospital and, knowing she’d not see him for the rest of the day, Joey decided it was time to think.

  Really think, not get all muddled as she had the last time she’d considered the immediate future.

  She had to work out, calmly and logically, just how they were going to go about this strange arrangement they had made.

  What did it mean in practical terms?

  First things first. Harry was due to come out of hospital any day now—would Max expect to move in?

  Did he want to move in?

  Did she want Max moving in?

  And if he did move in, would the fact that he wouldn’t always be there make things better or worse?

  The shiver that went through her body could have been telling her she did want him to move in, for more than simple convenience. But it could equally have been apprehension. Could she live with this man she loved in the ‘just good friends’ way a convenient marriage seemed to dictate?

  Except surely they’d got past that, discussing sex as part of the convenience?

  She sighed and shut her eyes then opened them and looked up at the ceiling.

  Nothing helped so she was actually pleased when there was a tap on the door and a nurse appeared, followed by another nurse wheeling a crib.

  Harry’s crib!

  ‘Okay, Mum, are you ready for this?’ the first one asked, and Joey forgot everything in the overwhelming rush of joy that, finally, she was going to be looking after her baby.

  Just her!

  Well, just her right now. For today, at least.

  ‘Of course I am,’ she said, and waited until the nurse had wheeled the crib in beside the bed and set it securely in place.

  Joey lifted out the little boy, his eyes wide as he took in new surroundings. His head turned, then he focussed on her face, which she knew wasn’t much more than a white blob to him right now.

  But she was his white blob, and he seemed to know it, for he snuggled into her and her heart swelled with such love she thought it might explode.

  ‘Ring if you need anything and don’t forget he needs his sleep,’ the older nurse reminded her, then the pair departed and Joey was alone with her son.

  She knew tears were dribbling down her cheeks, and the tears reminded her of Max, who’d always seemed to be about to mop them up for her. She, who was never teary, had been like a waterspout here in the hospital.

  ‘Your daddy should be here,’ she told Harry, setting him down on the bed so she could examine him from top to toe, feeling him, touching him, finally believing he was truly hers.

  And Max’s, because she knew his love was just as great—his love for Harry, that was.

  He slept in his crib beside the bed, Joey unable to take her eyes off him. He woke and fed, and she changed and talked to him, feeling the intensity of his regard, aware that right from the moment he’d been born he’d been taking in the big wide world around him, learning all the time.

  It was late afternoon when the visitors arrived, barely making the visiting hours the hospital adhered to fairly strictly.

  And after the euphoria of the day with her son, their arrival was so startling, shocking even, Joey couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

  Not that her silence was even noticed by David’s mother, Marion, who was drawn to the crib the moment she entered the room.

  While Paul, David’s father, greeted Joey with a gentle kiss and deposited an armload of gifts on the bed, Marion was bending over the crib, peering at Harry, the smile on her face so vibrant, so alive with love and delight Joey knew she’d never be able to tell her.

  Never!

  ‘He’s awake! Can I hold him?’ Marion looked up at Joey, who had to laugh when she caught the expression of guilt that flashed across her visitor’s face. ‘Oh, Joey,’ she continued, ‘I didn’t even say hello. How are you? Are you well? Is everything all right? The operation? Your email said it went well?’

  ‘Of course you can hold him, and everything’s fine with Harry and with me,’ Joey replied.

  Mostly!

  She watched as Marion lifted Harry, holding him as if he was the most precious thing on earth, peering down at him, studying him, finally lifting her head to look at Joey again.

  ‘He’s the spitting image of David when he was born,’ she said, tears now streaking her cheeks. ‘He got so fair later, David, but when he was born he was as dark as this, and look...’

  She carried Harry closer, sitting down on the bed beside Joey and unwinding the top of the wrap that snuggled him up. ‘See, it’s the McMillan thistle! You’d remember David had it too. And Paul—show her, Paul.’

  Joey’s mind all but shut down.

  Shock, disbelief and an overwhelming desire to yell or scream jostled in her mind, while her heart raced with a desperation she didn’t fully understand.

  But Marion was pointing to the faintest of marks that could, with a lot of imagination, have been the shape of a thistle, just behind Harry’s left armpit.

  Joey blinked. She’d bathed and changed Harry many times since he’d left the SCU, and not noticed it.

  How could she not have noticed it?

  And not been reminded that David had had just such a mark—very faint—in exactly the same place?

  Because she’d been too busy thinking of Max instead of David?

  Now guilt joined the mess of emotions rattling through her, so while Paul obligingly took off his shirt to show his birthmark and Marion clucked and fussed, instantly besotted over Harry, Joey sat in stunned bemusement, rather hoping it might all turn out to be a dream.

  Marion was sitting in a chair now, Harry asleep in her arms, and Paul was explaining how they’d begun to make arrangements to return home as soon as they’d received Joey’s email about the baby’s early arrival.

  ‘Marion wouldn’t have seen anything of Ireland if she’d stayed,’ he said. ‘Her mind was totally focussed on getting home, although it wasn’t all that easy to arrange because we were on this tour with group b
ookings and all.’

  ‘It was so good of you to come,’ Joey managed to say, although she was still finding it difficult to think, let alone speak. ‘You’ll stay for a while. I can give you the keys to the flat, although I left in such a hurry it could be in a mess.’

  Paul shook his head.

  ‘We’re booked back to Melbourne on an evening flight. There’s another complication, something we didn’t want to tell you while you were pregnant. We took the trip because Marion’s not well. She’s got cancer. She’s had treatment, and was in remission—but...’

  Now tears were welling in his eyes and Joey left the bed to give him a hug.

  ‘She can have more treatment,’ Paul explained, ‘but now we’re home, the sooner they start it the better.’

  Joey felt her own tears returning and swallowed hard. She looked across at Marion, whose eyes were feasting on the baby in her arms, and saw the slightly sallow skin, the loss of weight.

  ‘Come up whenever you can, and I’ll come down to you if you’ll have us both,’ Joey said to Paul. ‘Once I’ve got Harry into a routine, I’ll be happy to travel with him.’

  Paul hugged her and they sat a while in silence, until Marion stood up, gently settled Harry in his crib, then crossed to Joey, hugging her hard.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and the simple, oft-used words almost broke Joey’s heart.

  They left as suddenly as they’d arrived, insisting Joey stay in her room with Harry rather than seeing them even as far as the elevator.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ Marion said. ‘Now I’ve got a grandson to love, I refuse to let that cancer beat me.’

  Joey collapsed on the bed and studied the ceiling—again! No answers written there, but now the reality of what had happened—the clinic, despite all their assurances, had made not one but two mistakes—was sinking in and, rising from the mess, a tall, lanky figure with unruly hair and green eyes...

  Max loved Harry as much as she did, and now she’d have to tell him.

  Tell him what?

  Harry wasn’t his child?

  They’d have to do a DNA test, but the thistle birthmark surely told the truth...

  She lifted the phone and asked the nurse at the desk to put her through to Bob Jenkins. By now he knew the whole story of the muddled IVF—or of what they’d thought was the whole story. She could talk to him about it.