The Surgeon's One-Night Baby

by Charlotte Hawkes

  Actually, she hadn’t thought past this awful meeting. But now he looked so dark, so forbidding, so cold, it was like being plunged into an icy, glacial milk flow. She got the sense that no amount of shivering would ever be able to warm her up while his eyes bored into her like this.

  It occurred to her that her best form of defence right now was attack. She folded her arms, tilting her chin up and out as she forced herself to stare him down. Refusing to cower, however he might make her feel.

  ‘No, Kaspar. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. Marriage isn’t a mistake I intend to make again.’

  ‘So then what? You thought you’d drop the bombshell and then hop on the next plane back to the UK?’

  He was goading her, his scepticism unmistakeable. It was a struggle not to bristle. She had no idea how she forced herself to her feet. Took her first few steps across the room as though she was in complete control of herself.

  ‘I don’t know what I expected you to do. Any more than, I suspect, you know what to do right now. But I just felt I owed it to you to at least tell you I was pregnant.’ It was a hauteur she hadn’t even known she possessed. ‘Now that I have, I think it’s time for me to leave.’

  Kaspar, apparently, wasn’t as impressed as she was.

  ‘Sit back down, Archie,’ he ground out furiously. ‘You’re mad if you think I’m letting you go anywhere with my baby.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHAT THE HELL was he playing at?

  Pacing silently on the other side of the curtain as Catherine conducted a thorough examination of Archie, he struggled to quell the out-of-control fear that was spiralling inside him.

  He wasn’t ready to be a father. He’d never thought he ever would be. And that was another of the reasons why he’d always avoided romantic entanglements. He could never, ever risk being the kind of parent his father had been. Worse, being the kind of parent his mother had been. He remembered how it had felt to feel insignificant, unworthy, not...enough. Pain and grief poured through him, like the boilermakers he’d drunk as an unhappy, lost, late-teen; a shot of whisky chased down by a strong beer.

  But now his life and Archie’s were bound together. For ever. He’d known that after the first few moments of blind panic had cleared, back in his office. He would never allow a child to grow up the way he had, feeling unwanted or unloved.

  He had to be the kind of father to his child that Archie’s father had been to his own kids. The closest thing Kaspar had ever had to a father himself. He owed it to Archie. The woman whose door he suspected he would have been banging down months ago had he not kept the expanse of the Atlantic between them.

  Which made no sense. Because that absolutely wasn’t him. He didn’t know what had come over him. The ghosts she had been resurrecting ever since that first night together when he’d realised who she was. When he hadn’t been able to help himself from claiming her anyway.

  It was all he could do to stay this side of the screen and not march around that blue curtain and demand to know exactly what was going on. But staying here was as much about trying not to crowd or frighten Archie as it was about stopping himself from trying to tell Catherine Jarvis how to do her job. As much as she might like and respect him, Catherine wouldn’t think twice about calling him out for interfering where one of her patients was concerned.

  ‘Right,’ Catherine addressed Archie. ‘Let’s clean you up and then you can sort yourself out. When you’re ready, come back around and we can all have a bit of a chat.’

  His stomach lurched. It was exactly the professional, calm tone he used when he suspected a serious issue but didn’t want to worry anyone. Or perhaps it was his imagination.

  It was strange, being this side of the proverbial table. He felt ill at ease, lost, and he didn’t like it at all.

  So how must Archie feel?

  An unexpected wave of...something flooded through him. He’d told her that he wasn’t about to play happy families. And that was true, he didn’t want that. But there was something else there, too.

  Had any other woman walked back into his life and declared herself pregnant with his child he might have expected to feel anger, resentment, and maybe there was a little of that with Archie. But there was something more. Like it was his duty to look after her. To protect her?

  It was like a physical blow. For a moment all he could do was fight to maintain his balance, rocking on the balls of his feet. His whole career he’d fought for his patients. To the last moment and without exception. Because it was his duty, and because they mattered.

  He’d felt a kind of protectiveness towards her as a kid, but that had been completely different. Certainly never in his entire adult life had he felt the urge to protect someone because he cared about them, on some...emotional level. He hadn’t even thought he was capable of such an impulse.

  What was he even to do with such sentimentality?

  Unnerved, Kaspar thrust the plethora of questions from his head. He would concentrate on the medicine. That, at least, would make more sense. Sitting down, he forced himself to engage in polite conversation with his colleague, none of which he could recall even a minute later, and waited for Archie to appear.

  The sight of her wan, nervous face twisted inside him. Instantly, he switched into cool surgeon mode.

  ‘What did you find, Catherine?’

  ‘Right. So, I did a full examination of you, Archana, and I would concur that you are approximately twenty weeks pregnant.’

  ‘What is the issue?’ Kaspar prompted sharply. This might not be his field of expertise but he wasn’t considered a top surgeon for being oblivious to other fields. The way his colleague’s examination had progressed, and the comments and questions she’d been asking didn’t fit with a smooth, non-complicated pregnancy. Sure enough, she turned to him with an almost imperceptible nod. One colleague to another.

  ‘I did see faint evidence of funnelling but I stress it is faint. I could send you for an MRI but I’d prefer to concentrate on the cervix length before making any firm decisions.’ She turned back to Archie. ‘However, I don’t have a baseline length without calling your doctors and requesting your notes.’

  Kaspar nodded, turning expectantly to Archie, whose expression was even more pinched and white. Instinctively, he reached out to take her icy-cold hand in his.

  ‘Archie,’ he prompted gently.

  Slowly, so slowly, she turned her head to him, her eyes taking a little longer to focus.

  ‘Archie, we need your doctors’ details so that Catherine can contact them.’

  ‘No one told me there was a problem.’ Her voice was so quiet they had to strain to hear her.

  ‘Archana.’ Catherine’s voice was gentle, coaxing. The way his usually was with other patients. But this wasn’t other patients, this was Archie. ‘Would you like me to explain this in more detail?’

  Archie nodded stiffly. She didn’t look at him but her fingers gripped his surprisingly tightly. Something shot through him, a powerful but fleeting sensation. He couldn’t identify it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

  ‘All right, during pregnancy the cervix, or the neck of your womb, normally remains closed and long, rather like a tube. As the pregnancy progresses and you get ready to give birth, the cervix begins to soften, shortening in length and opening up.’

  Catherine paused, waiting for confirmation as Archie jerked her head in a semblance of a nod.

  He bit back his own questions. He couldn’t take over, he had to let Archie go at her own pace.

  ‘However,’ Catherine continued gently as Archie mumbled a vague acknowledgement, ‘in your instance, there is evidence to suggest that the neck of your womb might be shortening. It’s very faint and without knowing what the measurements were at the start of your pregnancy I can’t be sure. It isn’t, at this point in time, less than twenty-five millimetres, which is the point at whi
ch I would usually advise having an emergency, or rescue, cervical suture. However, with your past history of miscarriage I would suggest that there is a high enough risk of premature delivery for me to consider performing the suture on you.’

  ‘So...? We...wait?’ Archie managed, frowning as if she was having trouble processing it all.

  ‘For right now, yes. But we don’t want to wait too much longer.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘After twenty-four weeks we don’t usually perform cervical sutures either here in the US or back at your home in the UK. The standard of care for preemies is of such a high standard that it’s generally considered that the risks of being born early is less than the risk to the baby of attempting to delay labour with an emergency suture.’

  ‘So there are risks?’

  For the first time, Archie’s head snapped up, as though she was hauling herself back to reality by her very fingernails.

  Kaspar felt a sliver of pride slip through him, and he clasped her hand tighter as if that could somehow lend her strength.

  ‘There are risks with any procedure,’ his colleague answered, ‘but particularly in an emergency procedure where the cervix has already shortened and is partly dilated. There’s a risk of waters breaking and of infection developing. In your case, there’s only faint evidence of effacement and no dilation.’

  ‘But if I’m going to have it, it has to be now?’ Archie asked tightly.

  ‘As I said, I’d like a baseline measurement first, and we’ll go from there.’

  ‘Why didn’t my doctor pick up on it?’

  Her pained expression tugged and twisted at something inside him. He wasn’t prepared for it. It was a strange, inner tussle not to jump in and grill Catherine on a much more detailed, medical level. Instead, he forced himself to continue sitting quietly, allowing Archie to go at her pace. The kind of questions he wanted to ask would only frighten her unnecessarily. They would deal with any other issues if and when they had to. Still, he would be calling Catherine as soon as he got a moment alone.

  ‘As I said, it’s very faint. This is my area of expertise...’

  ‘They’re supposed to be experts too...’ Archie cut in, panicked, and, with an instinct he hadn’t known he possessed, Kaspar found himself drawing her to him, making her meet his gaze. His voice quiet, level, as one might use to a frightened, cornered animal.

  ‘Catherine is a highly specialised, world-class neonatal and maternal-foetal surgeon,’ he soothed. ‘We will deal with this. She will deal with it.’

  ‘But if we miss it. If I don’t have the...the...’

  ‘Cervical suture,’ he supplied evenly, wondering if this raging storm inside him was how every patient felt when they were sitting opposite him and he was the one delivering their diagnoses or prognoses.

  ‘Right. If I don’t have that then I lose this baby like I did before?’

  ‘There’s no way to know,’ continued Catherine. ‘You’re past the point at which the previous miscarriage occurred. However, there is some evidence that your cervix might be beginning to efface. It’s possible you could go to term like this, without any intervention. I can’t be sure. I need more information. In cases like yours, where it isn’t clear, the suture is usually only put in if there’s a history of two or more late miscarriages or premature births.’

  ‘Lose two babies?’ Archie gasped, horrified. ‘Before they will do anything? No. No, I can’t lose another baby. I can’t.’

  ‘I know it’s hard, I’m sorry. But sometimes we have to be sure,’ Catherine was saying, but he couldn’t sit quietly any longer.

  ‘If Archie doesn’t have the cervical suture and then after that twenty-four-week mark begins to go into labour, you’ll do what?’ he asked his colleague sharply. ‘Pessaries?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded, turning her focus back to Archie. ‘If that is the case, then we would probably offer you progesterone or pessaries instead. As you mentioned during the examination, they tried an Arabin pessary with your first baby.’

  ‘Which didn’t work,’ Archie choked out as Catherine bobbed her head, again softly.

  ‘And that’s why I’d like to request your medical records from your doctor to determine whether a cervical suture might be a sensible precaution.’

  ‘And it will stop me from losing my baby?’

  ‘There’s no guarantee. Research into how well cervical sutures stop preterm birth is always ongoing, but it is thought to reduce the risk of early delivery by significant percentages. Once I have more information, I’ll bring you back for a further examination and we’ll discuss things in greater depth if we feel we might go ahead.’

  ‘But...’

  The pleading in her tone twisted at Kapar’s gut, but he couldn’t indulge it. He had to be the strong one.

  ‘Archie, give Catherine your doctors’ contact details. Once she has your full notes she can make a more informed decision and, I promise you, we’ll answer every single one of your questions then.’

  ‘Right.’ Catherine shot him a grateful look. ‘You have full insurance?’

  ‘No...’ She froze, as if she hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

  ‘The medical expenses will be covered,’ Kaspar cut in firmly.

  He’d pay for it out of his own pocket if necessary.

  ‘And she’s staying with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He ignored Archie as she glowered at him.

  ‘Good.’ Catherine nodded, holding out a form for Archie’s medical contact details.

  Grimly he took it, coaxing the information out of Archie, line by line. And when it was finally done, he helped her up, sorted out her scant belongings, and led her out of his colleague’s office with a word of thanks.

  She looked dazed, thrown. The exact way he felt. But he refused to give in to it. He couldn’t afford to. If it sucked him in, he’d be no use to Archie, and right now he knew she needed him more than ever.

  * * *

  ‘I didn’t come here for your money,’ Archie muttered as she found herself being ushered out of the office. Her mind was grappling for some diversion, however banal, from the bone-gripping terror that she might lose this baby the way she’d lost Faith.

  ‘Or for you to house me,’ she added absently.

  She had given Dr Jarvis the right name, hadn’t she? The right address for her doctor’s surgery?

  ‘What should I have said, Archie? That you jumped on a plane and came out here wholly unprepared?’

  She pursed her lips, his tone exactly what she’d feared when she’d been halfway across the Atlantic. The accusation out before she could stop it.

  ‘You’d rather I hadn’t told you about the baby.’

  ‘That isn’t what I said.’ He blew out an angry breath and, for one moment, if she hadn’t known it to be impossible she would have thought he was as confused as she was.

  ‘I’ll stay in a hotel.’ It was hard to summon some semblance of pride when all she wanted to do was break down on his shoulder and howl.

  Kaspar let out a scornful snort.

  ‘You’re pregnant. With my baby. You will remain with me. For the duration. It isn’t up for debate, Archana.’

  ‘There is no duration. What you and Catherine seem to be forgetting is that I don’t come from here, and besides I can’t afford medical care. I need to go back home and I need to speak to my own doctors.’

  ‘You can’t just run away,’ Kaspar snapped. ‘And as for medical costs, I will deal with that. You won’t be going back to the UK while you’re pregnant. In fact, you won’t be going back at all.’

  ‘Sorry? What?’ she asked. Very calmly. Very deliberately.

  She couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly.

  Did it make it better, or worse, that he looked equally stupefied?

  ‘You won’t be returning to the UK,’ he said slowly
, as if he wasn’t really sure of the words coming out of his own mouth.

  It was disconcerting to see the famously focussed Kaspar Athari uncertain about anything.

  ‘I... I...’ Archie was aware that, for a moment, she opened and closed her mouth feeling much like the fish in the calming tank in the luxurious waiting area outside. Finally, her voice came back. ‘I can assure you that is exactly what I’ll be doing. It’s where my flat is, my career, my life.’

  ‘Except that now you’re carrying my baby.’

  ‘I had noticed.’ Her heart pounded so loudly she was afraid it was ready to slam its way right out of her chest. ‘But you told me we wouldn’t be playing happy families.’

  ‘That was before.’

  The conversation was all too similar to the one she’d had when her ex-husband had told her about his job opportunity in Zurich. She’d known then that there was no way she wanted to leave the UK, that her life was there. This time she heard the words but she didn’t feel the same passion.

  She told herself the difference was the baby. Not Kaspar.

  It couldn’t be him. She couldn’t afford to let it be. She turned on him.

  ‘Before what?’

  ‘Just...before,’ he ground out. ‘I don’t know, Archie. You need to give me time. You’ve had months to get your head around this pregnancy. I’ve barely had a couple of hours. You’ll stay here until I have a plan.’

  She could see what it cost him to admit to her that he, Kaspar Athari, had no idea what to do right at this moment. She could more than relate. But she couldn’t afford to crumble right now, much as she might want to. Much as the weaker Archie wanted to lean on him, even cling to him. She forced her head up.

  ‘I can’t stay here forever. I think Immigration might have something to say about that.’

  Far from throwing Kaspar, her words seemed to galvanise him. The powerful, authoritative man the world knew was coming back. Shutting out once and for all that tiny glimpse she’d seen of a remotely vulnerable side to him.

  ‘We’ll sort that out.’ His disdainful rebuttal was aggravating. ‘We’ll have to. You’re carrying my baby. My blood. Which means, whether I like it or not, you’re now my family. And I’ll do whatever I need to in order to keep my family with me. I won’t allow this baby to grow up thinking she wasn’t wanted. Feeling she doesn’t have a home.’