A Life Worth Living

by Amanda Canham

  She was learning.

  Stacey found herself moving closer to Cam as they sifted through the pile of presents. He must have moved towards her as well, because they were almost touching now, from shoulder to hip. Awareness shot through her body at the proximity, but she didn’t pull away. Neither did he, which gave her an added thrill.

  Her iced chocolate arrived as she got to the last bag. Oops. That was hers. No need to show that one. She shoved it to the side and pointed to the rolls of wrapping paper lying on the table.

  ‘I figured you probably didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I picked you up some, as well as tape and scissors, oh and a card. I hope that’s okay,’ she asked, reaching across him to pull out the birthday card she’d selected.

  The musky scent of his cologne invaded her senses with the closer proximity, and she inhaled deeply. Her breasts accidentally brushed against his arm, sending fireworks shooting through her body. His sharp intake of breath at the movement did nothing to stem the tide of desire rising inside her. She fought the urge to nuzzle deeper, to rest her head against his chest, to press her body against his. She should move away, put some distance between them, but she couldn’t. He was bedazzling her and she didn’t want it to end. He was consuming her, pushing every sane reasonable thought, every painful memory, from her mind.

  From somewhere deep inside she found the strength to pull away, sitting back in her chair holding the card out for him to look at. The fire in her veins dimmed once they were no longer touching, turning from a raging inferno to a slow burn, enough to allow basic thought processes to return.

  ‘Are you sure that’s it? What about that bag?’ he asked, pointing to the small one she’d pushed to the side before.

  ‘That’s mine. It’s nothing, really.’ She looked away, grabbing the bag and holding it under the table. The content of the bag was something she was most definitely keeping to herself.

  ‘Aw, that’s not fair. You can’t tease a man like that.’

  She grinned up at him, a wicked glint in her eye. ‘I can and I will.’

  Desire flared in his eyes, and she felt an answering kick inside her, the slow burn in her veins flaring up.

  ‘You’re not going to make me beg, are you?’

  ‘Now, that’s something I’d like to see,’ she answered throatily. He leaned forward in his chair, clearly enjoying himself as much as she was.

  ‘So, if I say please, you’ll show me what’s in your little bag?’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’

  ‘But you will,’ he answered confidently. He folded his hands, steeping them in front of him on the table. ‘Please, Stacey, will you show me what’s in your bag?’

  The denial already forming on her lips, Stacey looked down into his mock-pleading blue eyes and paused. What would happen if she gave in and showed him her purchase? She’d have to explain why she bought it, and she wasn’t sure she was ready. Explaining why she bought it meant telling him about her plans for the future—her closely guarded plans she hadn’t shared with anyone.

  No. She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t open herself up like that, expose herself to his judgement.

  But then again, she was going to have to tell him eventually. She was going to have to tell everyone one day soon. So maybe she should start now. Cam could be a trial run. He was the one person in this place that really seemed to get her, so he’d be a good person to start with.

  Besides which, she was really excited about her purchase. It would be fantastic to share her news with someone who would understand and be pleased for her.

  ‘Fine. Here you go, look to your heart’s content,’ she said, handing over the bag. Cameron grabbed hold of it, sliding the solitary item out, unfolding it. As she watched, the desire in his eyes dimmed when he realised there wasn’t enough material for it to fit Stacey. He held it up between them. The material was soft, and pale yellow with little birds all over it. The amusement, the curiosity she’d anticipated failed to materialise. Instead, he stared at it in horror. It was clearly the very last thing he’d expected to see.

  ‘Isn’t it the most gorgeous little all-in-one you’ve ever seen?’

  ‘Yes, it’s very cute,’ but the playful excitement was gone from his voice.

  ‘I saw it, and I just couldn’t resist.’ Stacey reached over and touched the fabric, running her hands lovingly over it. Okay, so his reaction wasn’t all she’d been expecting – but really, she had kind of led him to believe it was something else. A little time to adjust to the surprise was understandable.

  ‘Is it for any baby in particular? Or is this a bit like your cartoon watching?’ He asked, his eyes guarded; his tone half-mocking, half-wary. Stacey let out a nervous giggle.

  ‘A real baby, of course.’

  ‘But whose baby?’

  Stacey felt his eyes on her, automatically dropping to her belly, looking for the tell-tale little bulge. Of course there was nothing to see – not yet! But soon! Soon! It felt as though she was almost bouncing off the seat in excitement, and she couldn’t help the massive smile she knew was lighting her face.

  ‘My baby, Cam. I’m going to have a baby!’

  As Stacey stared at him expectantly, the colour drained from his face, his jaw dropped open; his eyes blinked rapidly as though he was in shock. He threw the baby outfit at her so fast, it was as though a hot coal had burned him.

  Okay, so she knew it was going to be a surprise. But she’d never have thought her news would induce such horror in the man. Anyone would think she’d just confessed to murder.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard her properly.

  ‘Uh, well, congratulations,’ he gasped at her between deep breaths.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied, sucking deeply on her drink, her eyes carefully trained on him. What was going on? He looked like he was in the middle of a panic attack – all pale, and clammy and hyperventilating.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, starting to get worried. His eyes flicked to hers briefly, then down to her stomach. He visibly flinched before looking away – out the window, across the restaurant, at the toys strewn across the table. Anywhere but at her.

  ‘Cam! Cam!’ Stacey snapped her fingers in his face, trying to get his attention. He blinked once, twice. His hands gripped the edge of the table as he seemed to finally get control of himself, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

  ‘Sorry, Stace, that. . .uh, you kind of took me by surprise.’

  ‘No kidding,’ she scoffed, trying not to let it show how much his reaction had hurt; so much for the awesome trial run.

  ‘So, uh, how far along are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘But, before. . .you said you didn’t have kids. If you don’t have kids and you’re not pregnant, then how is this for your baby?’ he asked indicating what he clearly considered an offending garment lying in the middle of the table.

  Stacey put her drink down and turned to face him. She clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap, nervous. It was crunch time, and after his initial reaction she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him the rest.

  But she couldn’t stop now.

  ‘So I’m not pregnant, yet. But I will be. Soon. Well, soonish. I-’

  ‘I didn’t know you were seeing someone.’ Cam interrupted, moving away from her, and if felt as though he was putting a mental and physical distance between them.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then. . .what? I don’t understand.’

  ‘If you’d let me finish then you would.’ Stacey grizzled good-naturedly. She was perversely pleased that he was upset at the thought of her seeing someone.

  ‘Alright. I’ll shut up.’

  ‘I’m going to use an anonymous sperm donor.’

  Cameron’s eyes went wide, as he stared at her, his jaw dropping open – again. When he didn’t comment, simply sat there staring at her, she continued.

  ‘There’s a twelve month wait, otherwise I’d probably be pregnant now. I registered s
ix months, three weeks and four days ago. So, only just over five months to go, then I can start making a baby,’ she finished, smiling nervously at him.

  Her smile started to fade as he continued to stare at her. Interminable minutes dragged by without a word.

  ‘Okay, you can start talking again anytime now,’ she prompted hopefully.

  ‘I. . .um. . .I really don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You could say “Hooray!” or “Congratulations, Stacey. You’re going to make an excellent Mum”.’ She laughed a little at her own enthusiasm but it petered out as Cam continued to stare at her, a mix of horror and disbelief on his face. Stacey looked down at the table, stirring the straw in her empty glass, all the wind knocked out of her sails.

  ‘Have you really thought this through? Raising a child is hard work. Especially when you’re on your own.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Stacey asked, not quite believing what she’d heard. She saw his lips move and form the words, but she couldn’t believe he’d actually said them.

  ‘There are plenty of single mother’s out there. And yes, they do it tough, but they still do it. They still have and raise a child they love. Why shouldn’t I?’ She continued without waiting for a response.

  ‘But I’d say most of them don’t choose to be a single mum. Certainly not from the start, before they even have the baby.’

  ‘So because I’m realistic and realise that relationships rarely work I shouldn’t be allowed to have a family? Only couples who believe in some imaginary thing called love have the right to have a baby? Then what about accidental pregnancies? Contraception fails all the time. There would be thousands of babies each year conceived outside of a loving, family relationship. Would you be saying the same thing to those women?’ Stacey demanded, trying, but failing, to stay calm.

  ‘Quite possibly. Raising children is hard work. But in their situation, the deed is already done. That’s not the case with you. You are actively choosing to raise a child in a single parent household.’

  ‘So what? At least my baby is planned. I will be prepared.’

  ‘You can never be prepared enough to handle a newborn baby. It’s more than just a cute little bundle to cuddle. They cry. A lot. And you can’t give them back. You often won’t even know why they’re crying. You can’t share the burden, either, if you’re alone. And they don’t like to sleep; they spit-up, and poop. And if they get sick, you just feel so utterly helpless.’ He explained, his lips twisted in a bitter-sweet smile.

  ‘How would you know all that?’

  ‘I. . .’ but he didn’t say whatever was in his mind. It was like he decided he’d already said too much; a shutter came down on the burning passion in his eyes. ‘I see the parents of our patients every day. They all have a hard time, especially if the child is sick. But the single parents—mothers and fathers—they have it so much tougher.’

  ‘Of course they do. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy—’

  ‘Then why put yourself and your child through it? Why not wait until you find yourself another man? Then you can settle down and make yourself a nice little happy family with a good support network.’

  His words turned her stomach, and she didn’t even try to hide the derision in her voice. ‘Get with the times, Cameron. I don’t want the fairytale. I tried that and I ended up not so happy ever after. I don’t need a man to make my life complete. And now, thanks to technology, I don’t need a man in my life to give me a child, either. I’ve been there, done that. Brian promised me a child. He promised me a whole brood of children, so I waited. For years I stayed in that marriage, waiting to have the family I always wanted, and then he went and—ugh. No! I am not waiting around for another man to give me a family.’ Anger made her voice harsh as she bit out the words.

  This was exactly why she hadn’t told anybody of her plans. The judgement, the assumptions. . .but she’d thought Cam was different. She’d expected. . .well, she didn’t know what she’d thought he’d say when she told him, but it hadn’t been this.

  She should have just kept her big mouth shut.

  ‘You’re wrong. Clearly you’re still hurting from this break-up, but that’s no reason to have a child. It’s just being selfish.’

  Stacey glared at him, white-hot fury shooting from her eyes.

  ‘That is NOT why I’m going to have this child. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you have no right to tell me how to live my life!’ She picked up her solitary purchase, shoving it into her handbag and stormed out of the café.

  ‘Stacey, wait,’ Cameron called, following her out onto the street. ‘At least let me take you home.’

  ‘Are you serious? I’m not getting in a car with you! I can’t even look at you right now! Just leave me alone!’ She yelled at him.

  Turning she strode away, anger emanating from every step. Soon, though, the anger died away and the tears arrived blurring the footpath in front of her.

  Telling him had clearly been a mistake. She’d thought they were. . .Oh, it didn’t matter what she’d thought anymore. She’d been wrong. He didn’t understand, and he mustn’t know her at all if he thought she’d made this decision lightly.

  Chapter 4

  ‘I bought this for you.’

  Stacey studiously ignored the voice, even as it sent shivers down her spine. Instead, she kept her head down and continued writing her notes in the patient’s chart. She was still mad at Cam, but the white hot fury from Saturday had dulled a little.

  But not enough to forgive him, even if he was persistently sliding a piece of passion fruit slice in front of her.

  Minutes passed and he stayed right next to her as she kept writing. Surely he could take a hint? Eventually she gave in, signing and closing the chart with a flourish so that he would understand that she was only giving him attention now that she’d finished what she was doing.

  Her heart did a little flip-flop as she looked up at him. As hot as he’d been in the casual outfit on the weekend, there was something decidedly sexy about a man, especially this man, in a suit. The cream shirt accentuated his olive skin, and the blue tie matched his bright blue eyes that were sparkling with good humour as he pointed down at the slice again, shoving it towards her.

  ‘For you,’ he repeated.

  ‘For?’ she asked, eyebrows arched. She refused to be a push-over.

  ‘To say thank you for buying Kaidee’s presents. She loved them, and I think they may have elevated me to favourite uncle status. My brother is extremely jealous. And it’s all because of you,’ he finished with a grin.

  ‘Is it for anything else?’ she asked. He was acting as though their fight had never happened. But it had. And she wasn’t going to make nice with him until he apologised. No matter how gorgeous he was in his excitement over his niece.

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like an apology for what you said?’

  He shook his head. ‘I didn’t say anything wrong.’

  ‘Yes you did. You were-’ Stacey broke off as another nurse walked into the nurses’ station. She flicked a curious glance their way before continuing on to the medicine lock-up. This was not the time or place to have this out. Stacey could feel the fury building up inside her veins again, but she couldn’t lose it. Not like this, at work. When she was here, she was a professional. There were sick children that needed looking after. They didn’t need to see two adults fighting.

  Stacey took a deep breath to calm herself. She was above this. She was.

  She toyed with the plate of slice in front of her, spinning it in a circle.

  ‘Don’t you have work to do, doctor?’ she reminded him, turning away and picking up the next chart.

  ‘Of course, I just-’ Cam was still standing next to her, hesitating.

  She tilted her head to the side, an eyebrow arched in query. Still he hesitated. She made a shooing motion with her hand.

  ‘Just go.’

  He glanced down at his watch. ‘Alright, but thanks for the presents. They really
did. . .’ but Stacey had turned back to her charts and was no longer listening. She heard his voice peter out, and then he turned and strode down the corridor towards the consulting rooms.

  ‘Cam,’ Stacey called out when he was half-way down the hallway. He spun around instantly, and stood there, waiting.

  Stacey held up the plate with the slice.

  ‘This is what I think of your thanks,’ she said, tipping the plate so the slice slid into the bin at her feet. His face blanched and he turned on his heel.

  Take that! She might not be able to vent her anger properly at work, but she could still get her point across.

  It was a victory, of sorts, so Stacey smiled at his retreating back. The smile faded as she realised that though she’d won that little tussle, she wasn’t actually happy. Inside, all she felt was empty.

  ‘I’ve got a five-year old boy with Duchennes MD in respiratory failure. I need that ventilator set up yesterday.’ Stacey heard Cameron call out as he pushed the doors to the respiratory ward open.

  ‘Room two is set up and waiting,’ she called back, grabbing the full-face mask and tubing for the NIV. When she went into the room, Cameron was bagging the patient, watching the little boy’s chest intently to ensure it rose and fell in pace with his squeezes. There was a woman, presumably the boy’s mother, standing on the other side of the child, holding his hand and whispering in his ear.

  ‘I thought he was stable,’ Stacey whispered as she connected the mask and tubing to the machine.

  ‘He was,’ Cam replied glancing up at her momentarily. ‘He stopped breathing in the elevator on the way up.’

  ‘Okay, we’re all set up here. What settings do you want?’ Stacey asked, looking over at Cam. The woman lifted her head then, and Stacey recognised her as one of their regulars. Her heart sank as she realised the patient was Toby and he must have had another relapse. She’d really been hoping he’d last longer than this before needing to be re-admitted.

  ‘Eight on inspiration and four on expiration. Resp rate needs to be-’

  ‘Wait. This isn’t his first time on a ventilator. Do you want me to grab the file?’