Her New Year Baby Surprise

by Sue MacKay

  ‘Merry Christmas, Nixon.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EMMA GRINNED. A WIDE, excited grin that tightened his gut with apprehension. ‘Hey, Nixon, we’re having a baby. How awesome is that?’ She was grinning and dancing around ED as if she’d won the lottery. To her she probably had.

  Not to him. He didn’t need a lottery of any sort. ‘A b-baby?’ Nixon stuttered. ‘Really?’ Not true. She was teasing. He watched her, and heat filled his veins. He wanted her. Despite her bombshell he wanted to get close and hold her lithe body against his, to make love slowly and tenderly. To look into her eyes as she came and fall into the depths of their togetherness. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not when they hadn’t discussed this or anything about their future.

  Now Emma moved closer and closer, her hands rubbing her stomach—her swollen, pregnant stomach. Those small hands spread across the taut cloth of her scrubs, gently holding her belly. ‘Hey, put your hand on here,’ she whispered. ‘You can feel him kicking.’

  Nixon stepped back, his butt coming up against the desk. ‘You’ve had a test?’

  Her eyes rolled. ‘Do you think we need one?’

  He thought they were not having a baby between them. Not yet. Probably never. He wasn’t ready to be a dad.

  Clapping filled the department, banged in his ears, slammed around his skull.

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Emma persisted.

  Nixon shot up on the couch, sweat covering his skin, his heart pounding so hard his ribs were about to snap. The sheet was tangled around his feet, his pillow on the floor.

  ‘Santa’s been,’ shouted Thomas. ‘Get up, Uncle Nixon. We’ve got presents.’

  Nixon gulped and stared at the two boys in their pyjamas and dragging laden pillowcases through the room. What the hell? He was in his cousin’s lounge. There was a Christmas tree in the corner. Voices were coming from down the hall. His watch said five-ten. The sun was barely up.

  ‘Look what we found on our beds, Uncle Nixon.’ Mathew brought his goodies over to be inspected.

  Nixon’s feet hit the floor and he pushed himself to standing. He needed out of here, fresh air and solitude: not excited kids with their Christmas bounty. Emma and a baby? It was a bloody dream. Dream? Nightmare more like. He shivered despite the early sunlight coming through the windows. ‘Em?’ he croaked. It was a dream, man. Yeah, but what he wouldn’t do to have her wrap her arms around him and say it was only a stupid nightmare.

  ‘Some tea wouldn’t go amiss about now.’ Henry strolled into the room looking unfazed at the early hour.

  ‘Be right with you,’ Nixon managed as he pushed past to go to the bathroom, where he snapped the shower on and stood under an icy blast of water. Tried to blot out the image of Emma’s hands gliding over her belly. Over their baby. It had been a nightmare. It would fade. He could not ruin Christmas day thinking about what it meant. His life had been turning around; he’d been so happy being with Emma and her girl. But a baby? Not this side of the next century. That was going too far. He wouldn’t know how to cope, how to love the child, how to be the parent he’d missed and wanted all his life.

  The shower didn’t work. The dream remained at the forefront of his mind.

  Watching the boys unwrapping presents and squealing with excitement pushed Emma aside briefly, but she returned the moment the family sat down for brunch. The laughter and chatter, the mountain of delicious food, champagne—his family. Despite the dream, he accepted their warmth and involvement with him. The kids were great, and he was getting to know them better. But one of his own? He had not moved that far forward.

  It wasn’t for real.

  The dream was a warning to go slowly, be careful. A reminder of how life went belly up when he stepped outside his parameters.

  His phone rang. Emma. He couldn’t talk to her right now. He didn’t know what to say, doubted he could talk without fear clogging his throat. Fear of losing her. Fear of having it all: Emma, Rosie, a home, more kids. He wasn’t going there. He was the wrong man for her. He was a mess.

  The ringing stopped, was quickly followed by a text. ‘Call us when you’re free.’

  Next Christmas?

  *

  Nearly two hours later Nixon stared at the excited scene on his screen. ‘I see the puppy’s a hit.’

  Em laughed softly. ‘Rosie hasn’t let her out of sight all morning.’

  ‘Nixon, have you seen Bella? She’s gorgeous. I love her. Mummy says I have to teach her about going to the toilet outside.’

  ‘That’ll be interesting,’ he quipped around a huge lump blocking his windpipe. If only he could be with Emma today. And Rosie. If only he hadn’t had that dream and didn’t feel a deep trepidation. He’d had a wake-up call, could no longer continue seeing Emma if he felt so stressed over the thought of having children. He glanced at the woman inadvertently causing him anguish. ‘How’re you feeling today?’

  Em’s smile appeared forced. ‘Great. Had a massive breakfast as only Mum knows how to make. She’s already busy in the kitchen working on Christmas dinner. I’d help but turns out Daniel’s girlfriend loves cooking so I got shunted out, told to put my feet up. How about you? Having a good time with your family?’

  Yesterday’s dark shadows under her eyes hadn’t disappeared overnight. Say what she liked, she hadn’t fully recovered yet. ‘We were woken just after five by two lads who’d discovered Santa’s presents on their beds, and nothing quietened down until a few minutes ago when everyone except Henry disappeared to the beach with some of the toys.’

  Emma’s soft laughter warmed him when he needed to be strong and stepping aside. ‘You’re glad you’re with them?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I am.’ The loud, loving greeting from everyone when he’d walked in the door of his cousin’s house last night had stunned him. His family cared about him, had probably always loved him. Today, when he wasn’t denying Emma and what they could have together if he could deal with the gremlins, he’d begun giving it back, cautiously sure, but he was stepping into new territory—and enjoying it.

  ‘Nixon, look what my puppy does.’ No peace when Rosie was around.

  The dog was licking Rosie’s face. ‘Yukky.’ He chuckled, happy to be a part of this child’s life. At the moment. For how long was up to him and Emma. Once he’d worked his way through all his hang-ups. If he got through them.

  ‘Here comes the gang,’ Emma warned. ‘Hope you’re wearing your armour.’

  The screen was taken over by her family, full of good cheer and a load of cheeky questions. By the time he hit ‘end’ Nixon felt as tired as Emma looked. Her family were full on—just like his, he realised. He’d noticed the easy care and love in her family before he had in his. They’d got him thinking about his past in ways he’d never considered before. They? Or Emma? Definitely Emma. She was becoming special. Becoming? Emma was the most important person in his life. Did he love her? Was it possible? Why not? She was beautiful, loyal, strong, generous to a fault. What wasn’t to love about her?

  ‘They sound like a great bunch.’ Henry handed him a coffee. ‘Emma someone special?’

  Had he been listening to the whole conversation? Avoiding the loaded question, Nixon sipped the coffee and went with one of his own. ‘Did I shut down immediately that day? Or did it take some time?’ Then he clarified. ‘We’ve never talked about it. Neither of us like talking about the deep and personal, but lately I find I need to know what makes me tick.’

  ‘You withdrew the moment you were told about the accident.’ Henry studied him for a long time. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Sorry, lad, I should’ve found a way to bring it up but…’ he shrugged ‘…I’m the one who never talks about our losses and unfortunately you learnt from me. Not the best role model you could’ve had.’

  ‘I could’ve done a lot worse.’ Nixon took another mouthful of coffee. Strong but not hitting the places that needed it. ‘Any of that champagne left over from brunch?’

  ‘Help
yourself, and pour me one while you’re at it.’ Henry sat down at the outdoor table and stared out over the lawn.

  Nixon was in charge of roasting the turkey so he poked the massive bird with a fork, adjusted the oven temperature and took two full glasses outside.

  They sat relaxed in each other’s company. Nixon couldn’t remember a time when he’d done this before. His visits were usually focused, busy and followed a standard formula. Check how everyone was, see that Henry didn’t need anything, have a meal to celebrate whatever occasion had brought him here, and then head away relieved it was over until the next time. This time he’d come for two nights, not the usual one, and for once he had no desire to hit the road back to Queenstown in a hurry.

  Yet he did because Emma was there. Despite his fright over a baby he still wanted to see her, hold that sensational body and breathe her in, listen to her happy voice. She hadn’t been happy yesterday. Downright sad because of Grace not being hers. She’d have loved the dream. His gut twisted tight. Dream for her, nightmare for him. Hopefully after a good night’s sleep Emma realised her hormones had been at play, nothing else. This morning that sadness still lingered, so who knew what she felt about babies today? As much as he couldn’t wait to see her, the brakes were clamping down on his feelings, making him hesitate. He wanted her in all facets of his life. And at the same time, he didn’t. What if he didn’t love her enough and hurt her accidentally? What if he did love her enough and got hurt himself?

  ‘Don’t make the same mistakes I did,’ Henry intoned. Talking about himself would be as normal as a worm flying past.

  Nixon didn’t move a muscle, afraid he’d distract his uncle and that’d be the end of this odd conversation. Just because Henry had admitted to being closed, didn’t mean he intended talking about everything from the past.

  ‘Being older, my kids knew me way better than you and didn’t let me get away with a thing. But it was easy to stay aloof from you. You shut down, held in all the pain, the fear, the uncertainty. I knew what was going on in your head.’

  ‘I’ve finally worked that out.’ Now he could see it was so obvious. No hugs, no talks about his family. But he’d been cared for, safe, fed and clothed. ‘You lost your wife, and then your sister.’

  ‘It was a bad time.’ Henry drained his glass.

  Nixon went to refill it. It was Christmas morning after all and they were having quite the conversation. Damn it. He took the bottle outside. ‘Tell me about Mum. I remember her always laughing, and she sang a lot.’

  ‘You call that singing? Haven’t I taught you anything?’ Henry chuckled. ‘But, yes, she loved to sing. But most of all she loved her boys. You were everything to her. You two and your father. I’d never known her to be so happy.’

  Nixon sipped his wine, absorbing this knowledge. ‘Thank you.’

  Out on the street some youngsters played, shouting and laughing, reminding him of Rosie. Such a well-rounded girl because she had a wonderful, caring, fiercely protective mother. Emma didn’t have any problems letting him get close to her daughter, to taking part in small ways in her life. Had Emma let her guard down? Was he worthy of her trust?

  ‘Don’t make the same mistakes I did.’ There was a ton of regret in Henry’s voice. ‘I could’ve remarried, had another chance at happiness but I refused to let her in.’

  ‘It’s not too late.’

  Henry sipped his drink. ‘No, lad, it’s not.’

  *

  ‘Doing anything exciting tonight?’ Steph asked Emma as they headed into ED a week later.

  It was New Year’s Eve and Queenstown would be party central. ‘Staying out at the Valley. Mum and Dad always have open house.’ Emma laughed. ‘Rosie and I have been there since Christmas.’ The three days she’d been at work had been busy, and she was looking forward to the New Year public holidays for some rest. When would she start to feel normal again? This tiredness had gone on too long.

  ‘How’s that puppy coping with Rosie?’ Nixon called from his office as she passed.

  Emma’s heart fluttered. She’d missed him. His uncle had taken ill on Boxing Day and Nixon had remained in Dunedin until last night, making sure Henry rested. They’d talked every day but it wasn’t the same as being with him. There’d been a hesitation in his voice she couldn’t pinpoint. Stepping inside the office, she told him, ‘They’re inseparable. How’s Henry?’ Damn but he was beautiful. That lean body and those tight muscles at the edges of his scrubs’ sleeves. That mouth that did amazing things to her body.

  ‘Back to his usual taciturn self,’ Nixon replied fondly, which was unusual. He was normally guarded when talking about his family. How likely was it that they’d talked about the past and whatever held Nixon back?

  Walking around the desk, she leaned in to kiss him, inhaled him, felt his shoulders under her hands. ‘I missed you. You still game for tonight?’ She’d invited him to join her at her family’s home for the night. As in, stay over in the spare bedroom, and hopefully sneak down the hall to her room like two naughty teens when the lights went out.

  Pewter eyes met hers, clear of any hesitation now. ‘You bet.’

  ‘Good answer.’ She’d held lingering doubts that he was going to continue seeing her when he returned. That meltdown she’d had on Christmas Eve had rattled him as much as her, though for different reasons. Shock had marred his face when she’d said she wanted a baby. As well it might. They weren’t anywhere near ready for that level of commitment. Nor was she ready to carry another baby. She had to wait, enjoy being with Nixon and slowly bring him around to seeing he could have a loving life with her and Rosie. If he wanted to…and she thought he might.

  Nixon cupped her head to draw her close again.

  ‘Hmm,’ Steph cleared her throat. ‘Nixon, you’re needed in Resus.’

  ‘Right.’ He was up and moving towards the door. ‘Nothing like reality to remind me where we are.’

  Following him, Emma envied the energy blasting off him as those long legs ate up the distance to Resus. Right on cue a yawn stretched her mouth.

  ‘You’re still doing that?’ Nixon asked as he reached for the patient notes being held out to him. But then he was reading and she ducked out of answering.

  Until the middle of shift when he caught her out again. ‘Think you need your iron levels checked? The pregnancy could’ve caused anaemia.’

  ‘My haemoglobin is around one twenty.’ Not anaemic by any stretch.

  ‘Let’s get it checked anyway.’ Nixon took her elbow and led her to his office. ‘I’ll fill out a lab request so you can get it done before you leave work.’

  With Nixon acting on her exhaustion she felt worse. This tiredness was for real, not something her imagination had conjured up. ‘Okay.’

  Nixon printed a request form and signed it with a flourish. ‘Don’t put it off.’

  ‘I said okay,’ she snapped, letting the tiredness get to her. Instead of gaining more energy, her body was on a downhill slide and even her boobs had returned to aching at inconvenient moments.

  ‘Go now while we’re not busy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She’d be a load of fun tonight like this. The lift was waiting, as though expecting her. She hit the floor number and leaned back against the cool wall. Her boobs ached. As they had when her milk was drying up. Or when she was in the early stages of pregnancy with Grace.

  Emma straightened up fast. ‘No way. Can’t be.’

  Women didn’t get pregnant this soon after giving birth. Huh? Which nursing textbook did she get that out of? Just as breastfeeding didn’t act as birth control, there was no downtime when sex was safe. But she and Nixon had been careful, always used condoms. Had to be low iron. Could not be any other reason.

  It had been a month since Grace’s arrival. No bloody way.

  The lab form shook in her hand as she stared at the tests Nixon had requested. CBC and iron studies. Nothing startling, nothing to change the momentum of her life. Unless the CBC showed some abnormality with her white or r
ed cells, or platelets, which hadn’t occurred to either her or Nixon. But nor had that idea her brain had just thrown at her. Had they used a condom each and every time they’d made love? Yes, she’d swear they had.

  The lift shook to a stop on the floor holding the lab. Emma shivered. Stepping through the door, she hesitated, wanted to run, head home to hide under the bedcovers. Go to sleep and wake up knowing she’d been silly even to consider she might be pregnant. Glancing down the hall, she saw Cindy, a pal from school who’d played goal shoot to her goal defence when she played netball in winter. If ever she needed Cindy, now was it.

  ‘Hello, what brings you up here?’ asked Cindy the moment she saw Emma.

  ‘I need a blood test.’ She shoved the form into Cindy’s hand. ‘I know it’s not your job but can you take the specimen? I need to ask you something.’ Lab technicians were trained to take blood samples.

  ‘Come with me.’ Cindy led her into a little used cubicle. ‘Sit and tell me what’s got you in a sweat.’

  ‘You’re working in biochemistry, right?’ When Cindy nodded, she continued. ‘Is there any chance you could run an HCG for me? I’ll make it legit by paying, but I don’t want the result going to the doctor who signed the form.’

  Cindy’s eyes widened, but all she said was, ‘Sure.’

  Within minutes Emma was on her way back to the department, the worry that had been gnawing at her for hours put to rest. It was as though, now she’d faced the real possibility she could be pregnant, she wasn’t bothered. The panic had gone. Only to return if the HCG test showed positive.

  Then she’d have to face reality and make some difficult decisions.

  She’d have to think of Rosie, and her family.

  Her job. How could she continue to work if she had a baby as well as a school-age child?

  She’d have to confront Nixon.

  Panic flared, returned harder and tighter than the first round. Emma backed up against the wall, out of the way of patients and staff, working at keeping herself from doing a face plant as her knees no longer had the strength to hold her upright.