by Zee Monodee
Michael turned to the nurse. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care if he refused to be in the theatre.”
The nurse chuckled. “At least he didn’t faint at the mere idea. S’been known to happen on quite a few occasions.”
“Will you keep us posted?”
“Sure, luv. Looks like he’ll need all your support.”
Michael acquiesced and went in search of a coffee machine. They had at least an hour to kill before they heard anything, and coffee would provide a distraction, as well as sober Phil some.
The wait took longer, much longer. Both he and Phillip were on the edge when the nurse finally popped her head in.
“Congratulations, young man. It’s a boy.”
Phil’s eyes grew wide, before he smiled and hugged Michael. Welcome laughter escaped them both, defusing the tension that had plagued them.
“Do you want to see him?” The nurse touched Phillip’s arm. “I’m afraid they won’t let you hold him yet. He’s been placed in an incubator at the neonatal nursery.”
Both men grew quiet, and Phillip stood. His back was ramrod stiff, and Michael didn’t know whether he’d stand still or keel over.
“I … I better go, innit?”
Michael nodded and watched his friend walk away towards the corridor.
The nurse turned to him. “You want to accompany him? He seems a bit off.”
“Can I?”
“They’ll only let both of you look through the glass. Sure, you can go, too.”
He stood and thanked the nurse. In the hallway, he turned left towards the neonatal department. He paused, his gaze going right toward the other nursery, that of the full-term babies.
Had Phillip noticed the path he had taken? Maybe now that the baby was here, his friend would wake up and realize that the prospect of a child wasn’t simply an abstract notion to drown in the bottom of a bottle.
With a heavy step, he started down the long corridor. Despite the bright fluorescent lights, one couldn’t shake the idea that things weren’t exactly right in the room at the end of the hallway. Life that had barely had time to exist in the outside world hung in the balance there, the tiny beeps of the many machines enclosing the babies setting the false lull of safety as long as the sounds remained steady and regular.
He stopped on the edge of the anteroom separated from the nursery by a wide glass window. Incubators housed tiny human beings on the other side of the clear panel, and the babies seemed to sleep peacefully despite the many apparatus attached to them. A couple of nurses walked around the clear boxes, stopping here and there to check on something or the other.
He settled his gaze on his friend, who cut a lone figure right in front of the window. Phillip hugged his sides, his shoulders slumped.
Michael walked to his side, placing a hand softly on his friend’s back. “You okay, mate?”
Phillip nodded.
“Where is he?”
Phillip indicated an incubator in the middle.
“He’s the only boy, apparently.” He let his gaze linger on the tiny body inside the incubator. The baby looked fragile and terribly vulnerable. “Blimey, Mike. He’ll be fine, won’t he?”
Phillip’s voice was strangled, and he knew his friend was coming to grips with the realization that he had a child that was real and alive.
“They’ll take good care of him.” He grabbed Phil’s shoulder. “Preemies make it nowadays.”
Phillip shivered. “He’s so … small.”
“Babies usually are, Phil.”
“I’m a dad.” Awe hung heavy in every word.
“Yes, you are.” Michael’s voice was low and almost strangled, too. “Congrats.” Silence settled between them, before he broke it. “Have you seen Claire?”
Phillip’s jaw clenched. “No.”
“You should go see her.”
“What for? Now that the baby is here, there’s nothing left between us.”
“Phil ...” Caution rang heavy in the word.
“No, Mike, I mean it. She used to dangle her pregnancy before me to keep me in line. But she doesn’t have that any longer.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not going back to her.”
“And what about your son?”
“I won’t be an arse, Mike. I’ll be there for him as best as I can. And I promise you Claire won’t use him like a pawn in her games.”
They remained silent for a while, both staring at the little person who slept a few yards away.
A startled voice came from behind them. “You’re here?”
They turned to see Claire being brought in on a wheelchair.
Phillip didn’t reply her, though Michael nodded in acknowledgement. “How are you?”
She shrugged.
“Phil? The doctors say we can go in to see him for a few minutes.”
“I’ll catch you later, mate.” He thumped Phillip on the back before he left the nursery.
His step quickened in the corridor, and he wanted to get out of the ward as soon as possible. One thought kept churning inside his head.
What was Phillip going through, seeing his child hanging between life and death like that? How did anyone live through such an ordeal?
Before he could prevent it, his thoughts went to Jane. He hoped and prayed she never had to go through such a plight. Anything could happen to her now. She was already seven and a half months gone—
“Mike!”
Shaken out of his thoughts, he looked up. His mother was coming towards him in front of the nurses’ station.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Claire. Her mother called me. They’re back in her room. You came with Phil?”
He nodded.
“How is he?” She took his arm and led him out towards the sofas by the wide bay windows at the front of the floor.
They sat down, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s over. Phil and Claire.”
“No!” She gasped.
He sighed. “I’m afraid so. At least, Phil intends to look after his son.”
“She’ll be devastated. She was crying back there, thinking he hadn’t bothered to come.”
“Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to.”
“Like for you and Jane?”
He remained silent.
Jane. How he wanted to see her. Being in the hospital made him think of her even more, and he craved some reassurance as to her health. However much he wanted to, he couldn’t forget her and not be concerned.
“You’re thinking about Jane, aren’t you?”
Read like an open book. He didn’t even bother to deny her words, merely shrugged. He’d told his mother all about the two of them, without mentioning the part about keeping her and Umberto apart. She knew he’d met Jane after he had left on her birthday, and one thing leading to another, how he’d shouldered the responsibility of her and her baby.
“Have you heard from her?” His mother patted his knee.
“No.”
“And you didn’t contact her, either.”
He clenched his jaw, not wanting to reply. What good would it have done?
“Well, if you want to know, she’s doing well. Umberto told me just this morning.”
“What?”
How did he know about that?
“She’s gone back to work.”
“But she shouldn’t. The doctor expressly told her—” He stopped talking when he realized he was getting carried away. Instead, he stood. “I have to go.”
He didn’t look back and walked out of the hospital to his car in the parking lot. Once in the driver’s seat, he didn’t start the engine and simply sat with his hands on the wheel.
Damn, damn, and double damn.
Get out of my head, Jane. Why didn’t you when you walked out of my life?
He cursed and thumped the flat of his palm against the dashboard, the sharp sound echoing in the confines of the Mercedes.
He closed his eyes and tried to will the image, the very idea, of Jane out of his mind. But he couldn’t. Until he heard more about her, his mind wouldn’t be at rest, and the worry would eat him alive.
He couldn’t call her, though. What would he say? He also couldn’t speak to anyone in her entourage, and the doctor would surely slam the phone down if he asked for any update on Jane’s health.
He had no one he could turn to.
Unless ...
No, that wasn’t an option.
It’s the only one you have.
No, he screamed inside.
You have to.
He fought the little voice in his head for a long time. In the end, when he realized fighting was more destructive than agreeing and when the worry simply wouldn’t leave, he surrendered.
Switching the engine on, he backed the car out of its space and set it on the road.
He didn’t pause to think too much about what he was about to do. All he knew was that he needed to do it.
Damn you, Jane.
Chapter Seventeen
Michael stood on the front porch of the terraced house in Kensington. Dusk had fallen, sending shadows looming on the closed door inside the secluded alcove.
He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. He wanted to turn tail and leave right then, but a part of him knew he couldn’t. He had come this far; he wouldn’t back down.
With resignation, he raised his hand and pressed the tiny button of the doorbell.
The chime echoed inside. Would the house’s owner be surprised to receive an unexpected visit at this time of the evening?
He didn’t shuffle as he waited. Finally, the door swung open, and time seemed to freeze.
Astonishment was evident on the face of the man who stood before him. Lines crinkled his wide forehead, and his mouth hung open.
“Michael?”
“Umberto.”
Silence stretched between them before Umberto spoke. “What are you doing here?”
Michael cleared his throat so much the words proved hard to scrape out past his vocal chords. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. Sure.”
The older man moved aside to let him pass. Michael walked in with a big step. He felt he needed to take this wide leap into the premises.
He gazed over the cosy entrance done in pale shades of blue. The first time he was setting foot into his father’s house.
There, he’d said it.
His father.
“The lounge is over here.”
Umberto led the way. Michael followed him into a large room done in light blue shades, too.
“Have a seat.”
He did, sitting on the edge of a settee near the large windowpane. Umberto settled on the three-seater across from him.
They both remained quiet. Tension lingered between them, neither wanting to take the first step and ask the other the question that plagued him.
“You look drained.” Umberto appeared uncomfortable as he spoke first.
His words were slow, careful, watchful. He had to be wondering what had led Michael to come to him of his own accord.
He nearly chuckled aloud.
Umberto had thrown an olive branch, one he would grasp. It would do them both no good for him to remain silent.
“You remember my friend, Phillip? Donald Campbell’s son?”
Umberto nodded.
“I was with him at the hospital for most of the afternoon. His girlfriend gave birth to their son prematurely.”
“How are they?”
“Shaken. I hadn’t heard about the prognosis for the baby when I left.”
Silence blanketed them again. Sod it. He had to jump in. The sooner he did so, the sooner he’d be out of here. This place played on his nerves.
“How is she?”
Relief flooded him once he’d gotten the words out, and he was able to breathe more easily.
“I suppose you mean Jane?”
He brought his head up at the quiet knowledge in the older man’s voice and nodded.
“She’s doing well. Or so she says.”
His senses prickled upon hearing that. Jane so didn’t heed warning signs about her health usually.
“You have reason to doubt that?” All his thoughts focused on Jane, obliterating the identity of the man he spoke with.
Umberto shrugged. “She tires easily, and her moves are slower. But I think it’s to be expected at her stage.”
He clenched his jaw. “Did she tell you anything else?”
Umberto chuckled.
“Actually, yes.” He paused. “She’s expecting a little girl.”
A fist slammed into his gut. A daughter. Jane would have a daughter. A little girl who could look just like her. She would be happy. A smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth at the realization, before he recalled their estranged relationship.
What was it to him that she would have a little girl?
“A daughter, Michael. Do you realize? We haven’t had a girl in the family for generations.”
He did, but something else was of importance here.
“She isn’t mine.”
Umberto stared right at him, and he felt the burn of the dark eyes on him. “You were ready to claim her as yours.”
Temporary madness. Jane had rectified that lapse at the hospital. He remained silent.
“That’s what matters.” His father inclined his head.
Michael looked the other way. “Tell Jane that.”
“I just might.”
“What?”
Umberto waved his question away. “If that’s what it takes to get you both to wake up.”
“Slow down here.” He battled with amazement. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re clueless, aren’t you?”
Anger pointed the tip of its nose at the slighting rhetoric; he hated when people took him for a fool. “I beg your pardon? And I suppose you hold all the answers, don’t you?”
“Why did you let her go?”
“I didn’t. She gave up on us.”
If ever he’d thought he’d be having this conversation with anyone, let alone the man he’d held in contempt for all of his life, he would’ve said he’d had to have gone mad.
But maybe he had. Jane had knocked down every sensible and logical part of him. How else could he explain what he was doing here, a place where he had sworn he’d never be caught dead?
“You know, when I asked her, her reply didn’t make sense, but it’s starting to now.”
He simply raised an eyebrow in question.
“She said, ‘I didn’t deserve any of him.’ That sounds just like her, doesn’t it?”
“What are you getting at?”
Umberto smiled. “Come on, Michael. Jane has a brilliant mind, but she doesn’t exactly know how to use it where her private life is concerned.”
“And this means?”
“She looks after everyone, but doesn’t know how to look after herself. She also never rocks the boat because she doesn’t believe in herself enough.”
He’d come to that same conclusion, and that’s why it hurt so much when he thought of her alone. “When did she come back to work?”
“On the Friday after the debacle with the tabloids. Good thing she did, in a way. I was starting to get worried.”
“How come?”
“I was concerned I’d have no one to pick up after me.”
Michael shot to his feet, his anger finally rising, and he allowed it to boil over. “For God’s sake, she’s pregnant, and her health isn’t brilliant. All you care about is that she’s here to pick up after you?”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Umberto shook his head with quiet wisdom, in the way an adult did when confronted with a belligerent child.
Michael saw red, but somehow, he couldn’t move one foot in front of the other to leave this damn place.
“Jane is thirty-two. She holds two honours bachelor’s degrees,
one in administration and the other in finance, and a master’s degree in banking. Yet, she took on a job as a mere personal assistant to a bank’s chief executive officer. That’s a waste of good competence, wouldn’t you say?”
Despite himself, he nodded. He, too, had never understood how Jane could have such non-existent professional aspirations.
“She was a dedicated PA. One day, soon after she started the job, I was late for an important deal. When I walked in, certain I’d lose the client because I hadn’t had the time to prepare the full case file, she handed me a portfolio she had compiled. She had done a thorough analysis, her research had been extensive, and her strategies better than even what I would’ve come up with.
“From that day on, I took a step back from the work. Jane took it all in her stride. I found a file waiting for me every time the bank needed to conclude business. We haven’t lost one deal since she started down this road.”
Michael could start to see what Umberto was getting at. Banking and the law were quite similar in a way. Nothing beat experience in those arenas, and with every case came better knowledge that armed the person with even more confidence and savvy.
“I played the loopy old fool around her, and she fell for the act hook, line, and sinker.”
“And all this time, she was learning more about the job. Your job.” He shook his head.
Umberto settled back into his seat. “Exactly. Do you see what I mean when I say she’s here to pick up after me?”
He nodded. “You’re grooming her for an executive position. Even for the top job.”
“Yet, for all her intelligence, Jane doesn’t see any farther than the tip of her nose where people are concerned. She thinks she’s a liability, while in fact, she’s probably the biggest asset for the ones she cares for.”
True, he wanted to say, but another thought occurred.
Umberto couldn’t be that much an idiot if he could suss people out so easily. What did that say for his father?
His father.
He settled his gaze on the older man. There was no love lost between them, but now, he also knew the anger and bitterness that had burned in him all these years didn’t thrive so intensely any longer.
Maybe there was more to matters than what he wanted to acknowledge.
Jane had told him that once.
“You’re sure she’s really okay?” He lowered his head a little as a sign of newly found respect.
