Midwife's Baby Wish

by Gill Sanderson

  THE MIDWIFE’S BABY WISH

  GILL SANDERSON

  Life has to go on. Lyn Pierce's husband is dead. Now there is no need for her to worry about whether or not she can have children. Bringing babies into the world makes her happy and so she is more than contented with her life as a midwife. Then Dr Adam Fletcher joins her practice. They meet first when he rescues her from drowning and they quickly become more than just friends. But Adam loves children, and is determined to have a family. He loves Lyn as much as she loves him. But could she marry a man when the chances are that they will never have a child of their own?

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  It was Sunday morning, and officially a day off, so midwife Lyn Pierce wasn‘t in her. smart blue-and-white uniform. However, Lyn didn‘t pay much attention to days off. She had promised to call in so she would do so. Her work was her life – she had few other interests.

  She looked down at one-year-old Edward Harris. Edward gurgled happily back at her, seeming the least concerned of anyone in the room. Behind Lyn were Edward’s anxious parents, Bill and Julie. Behind them, and much more relaxed, sat Bill’s mother and father.

  Lyn reached down to pick up Edward, holding him to her with an expert hand. ‘Edward is a wonder baby. I wish all babies were as healthy and as well cared for as he is.’

  ‘But we’ve never left him before,’ Julie said. ‘Since he was born I’ve never spent more than an hour away from him. Going away seems sort of uncaring.’

  ‘Not at all. Don’t be selfish. Let Edward’s grandparents have a look-in. They certainly know what to do.’

  ‘We ought to,’ the grandmother said with a grin. ‘We’ve had five children of our own and there are three other grandchildren.’

  ‘I’m more worried about you and Bill than the baby,’ Lyn went on. ‘You’ve done a great job so far in bringing him up. Now you need a rest, a bit of self-indulgence. Getting away will do you the world of good.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Julie said slowly, ‘we would like to …’

  ‘I am sure, very sure. Now, get in that car, go away and enjoy yourselves.’

  ‘All right, we will.’ Julie had only needed a bit of reassurance and now she was suddenly quite determined. ‘Bill, fetch the cases down, we’ll get straight off.’

  Lyn winked at the grandparents, and the grandfather winked back. ‘I’ll be off, too,’ Lyn said. ‘I know there’ll be absolutely no need to call, but you have my mobile number.’ She walked out into the sunshine.

  Julie walked with her, now obviously delighted. ‘I’m looking forward to this now. Bill’s booked us into a hotel in York. I’ve packed clothes I haven’t worn for ages. And it’ll just be the two of us.’ She suddenly looked shocked. ‘Is that a terrible thing to say?’

  ‘No, Julie, it isn’t. Edward isn’t the only person in your life. You have a husband to love as well. Now, go and have a good time!’ Julie hesitated a moment and then left.

  Lyn walked to her car, checking that her boat was safe on its trailer. Then she drove away. As she headed out of the village of Keldale, she remembered the excitement, the joys, the fears of having a baby. And the pleasure of sharing those joys with a husband. Then she shook her head and drove a little faster. Those thoughts were none of her business now.

  She was driving to Lake Windermere, fifteen miles away. She loved it here in the Lake District at this time of year. The colours of the trees, lakes, sky and fields seemed different, more subtle in early autumn. Autumn suited her mood. She often felt autumnal, a little melancholy, as if the summer of her life was past. Then she shook herself. That was a foolish idea. She was a successful midwife, a career-woman of thirty-two.

  Lyn parked at the sailing club, slid off her loose trousers to reveal shorts underneath. Her smart trainers were changed for a disreputable pair with the toes cut off to let water out. Then she enjoyed herself, erecting the mast, rigging her dinghy, bending on the sails. Finally, blue sails flapping, she wheeled her dinghy to the hard and pushed it into the water.

  As she tethered it to a convenient bollard she caught sight of the name of her dinghy – the “Start Again”. Her shoulders hunched. Naming the dinghy had been a wild reaction against a malevolent fate. Sometimes now she thought it had been a little foolish. An over-reaction, perhaps.

  Back at the car, Lyn strapped on her lifejacket, then took a carefully wrapped parcel of papers and placed them into a waterproof box. She dropped in her mobile phone and her handbag. In a dinghy, you expected everything to fall overboard. Then she returned to the dinghy, carefully strapped down the box and pushed off. This was what she had come for.

  Carefully, she threaded her way through the other dinghies, passed visitors happily splashing in hired rowing boats, avoided the moored luxury cruisers. Nearer the shore the wind was erratic at first, but when she reached open water she found a stiff breeze that cracked open the sails and made her little craft heel. This was good!

  She sat out farther, listened to the hiss of water under the stem, felt the heat of the sun on the back of her neck. This north end of the lake was ringed by mountains, she could see the grey blue summits all around.

  Now she was away from other people. She was happy.

  Lyn tacked across to the west bank, turned to run along it to where she had been told there would be a large motor cruiser moored. After fifteen minutes she saw it – there was the blue superstructure, the flag indicating that it had been hired from the boatyard.

  As she saw it her boat heeled again and automatically she let air spill from the sails. A cold wind chilled her back and when she glanced over her shoulder she saw the dark line of a squall hastening towards her over the water. This was the Lake District, where the weather could change in half a minute. No matter, she’d soon be at the cruiser.

  She was calling on Dr Adam Fletcher. In a fortnight he was going to join the Keldale practice for six months while one of the other partners was on a training course. Lyn wasn’t looking forward to working with him.

  Just yesterday, when she’d accepted this job as water-borne postman, the senior partner of the practice, her friend Cal Mitchell had said, ‘It’ll raise the profile of the practice, Lyn. A real live television star. Just what we need to show how good we are.’

  ‘We don’t need a television star to prove we’re good. We’ve got the opinions of our patients. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘You don’t want to work with a TV star?’

  She knew Cal had been teasing her.

  ‘I want to do my work and be left alone! That’s all.’

  Cal had lifted a hand to calm her. ‘I interviewed him myself. I think he’ll be a good man. He has excellent references – medical ones, not from TV, from people I trust. And I’ve watched a couple of his programmes. I think they will help people.’

  ‘And don’t tell me – he looks absolutely wonderful.’

  ‘Yes, Lyn, he does look wonderful. But he’s still a good doctor. You have to give him a chance.’

  She trusted Cal’s judgement. ‘Whatever you say. I’ll give him a chance. Now, what is this packet I have to deliver?’

  ‘Just if you happen to be on Lake Windermere tomorrow. And you said you were. He’s hired a cruiser for a bit of peace. He wants to do some writing and some studying before he starts with us. I’ve told him there won’t be much chance afterwards. But this packet came for him and it looks important. I’d just like t
o get it to him to show him that we’re a practice that helps each other.’

  ‘OK, I’ll do it,’ Lyn had said. But she wasn’t looking forward to the job. She wasn’t expecting to like the new partner. She didn’t like successful, good-looking, flamboyant men. Not that she thought about men much at all.

  The wind was now growing stronger. Suddenly there were whitecaps to the waves and she found herself feeling cold. But she felt confident. She was a competent sailor, she could deal with this. She needed to be competent at everything she did.

  So far there was no sign of life on the cruiser ahead. Presumably, the doctor was writing or studying below decks. She was now almost alongside, and calculated that the best thing to do was to cut across the stern of the cruiser and come up on the shore side. There it would be sheltered; she could tie her dinghy to the side of the cruiser cockpit and climb aboard.

  She put her helm up, the dinghy careered across the cruiser stern and just at that moment the strongest squall so far raced across the lake. The dinghy heeled, water sloshed into it and she stretched and leaned backwards to jerk it back onto an even keel. She could hold it … just. But then there was a loud crack.

  No time for fear or panic. She knew her mast had snapped, knew that the sail would fall. The dinghy lurched upright and she was catapulted backwards. There was an instant’s shock as her body dropped into the cold water: Then a sudden blinding pain in her head. And then there was blackness.

  Lyn’s head hurt. She had been asleep, now she was waking up. Her head hurt and if she came thoroughly awake then her head would hurt more. She wanted to stay asleep, she didn’t want to wake up and hurt even more. But she didn’t seem to have any choice.

  Her eyes she kept carefully closed. What else did she know? She was warm, but some bits of her were damp. There were other pains apart from that in her head, and her right thigh hurt. She was lying on her back, more or less comfortable. How she wished she didn’t have to wake up. She couldn’t help it. She groaned.

  A voice said, ‘You’re waking up. Just lie there. You’ve had a nasty crack on the head but I think you’re going to be OK.’ It was a deep voice, a soothing voice, a comforting voice. She wanted to do what it said. But instead she opened her eyes. Just where was she?

  To her side was a brass porthole so she was on a boat – presumably the cruiser. Lyn turned her head and saw a shelf with a row of medical books. She looked downwards. There was a sheet and a blanket – and, suddenly, something else struck her.

  ‘Who undressed me?’ she asked.

  ‘I did. I thought it necessary. You were cold and wet and I wanted to look at your thigh to see how near that cut was to the artery. Besides, I am a doctor.’ The voice was reassuring but not apologetic. ‘Now, I’d like to look in your eyes.’

  His hands were gentle on the side of her head and Lyn stared upwards, not paying much attention to the face so close to hers. Of course, she knew what he was doing, checking for signs of concussion. Then she blinked and twitched, a cold drop of something having fallen on her face. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, and added, ‘Pupils are the same size. I don’t think there’s any need for you to go to hospital. But you should rest for a while and then I’ll see about stitching up your head.’

  By now she was more conscious, able to think about what had happened, to take in her surroundings. ‘You’re wet,’ she said.

  ‘I certainly am. I had to jump in to pull you out, you were floating away. There I was, quietly working, when there was this great thump on the stern. I came into the cockpit, thinking that I had a visitor. And I had, but she was unconscious.’

  She’d think more about that later. ‘My boat! What happened to my boat?’

  ‘I’ve tied it to the side of the cruiser. No problem there but you’re going to need a new mast.’

  ‘I see.’ Lyn’s headache was getting worse. ‘Can you tell me what happened? I was rounding the stern of your cruiser and my mast snapped so I … what happened then?’

  ‘You fell backwards onto the cruiser’s propeller. It gave you a nasty cut.’

  She struggled, tried to sit upright. ‘The box! There were papers for you in a box and I …’

  Gently, he eased her back to the pillow. ‘I found the box. It’s on board and we can worry about it later. Now, apart from the head and the thigh, are there any other aches or pains? I had a quick look at you but I couldn’t see anything.’

  ‘My head’s the worst, but I don’t think there’s anything much else.’

  ‘You didn’t swallow any water? I think I got you out in time.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to drown.’

  ‘Then that’s enough talking. Just lie there for a few minutes, there’s no need to worry about anything. We’ll sort things out later. I’ll be sitting here, reading.’

  He had a voice that inspired confidence; a deep voice that made you want to do what he said. She lay back, tried to relax and let her confused thoughts sort themselves out.

  Her hair was still wet. He had put a towel underneath her head and she could feel the bulk of some kind of dressing as well. She was pleasantly warm, but there was some dampness and she realised that when he’d undressed her he’d left on her bra and knickers.

  Then she had to blush a little. Most of the time she dressed in her uniform or, when at home, in shirt and jeans. She didn’t have much occasion to wear fancy clothes. But she had a secret vice. Her underwear was always of the finest, most delicate lace. Just the opposite of what would be expected of a sensible midwife.

  Well, he had seen it. Let him make of it what he wished.

  For a few moments more she lay there and then decided she was strong enough to talk again. ‘Did you say you thought my head should be sutured?’

  ‘I’d like to put at least one in. Head wounds bleed a lot but I don’t think there’s any serious damage.’

  ‘Will you have to cut the hair away?’ Lyn couldn’t stop the note of anxiety in her voice.

  He laughed. ‘I very much doubt it. If I do, it’ll be the absolute minimum. Now, before we go any further, should we tell anyone where you are? Is anyone going to worry about you?’

  ‘No one worries about me. I look after myself.’

  She hadn’t meant it to sound so defiant.

  ‘I see. And did you say that you had some papers for me? How did you know I was here?’

  She sighed. Now they would have to get professional, and an explanation would be required and so on. ‘My name’s Lyn Pierce. I’m the midwife at Keldale practice. And I know you’re Dr Adam Fletcher. A parcel of papers was sent to you at the practice and Cal Mitchell thought they might be important. So, since I was coming for a sail on the lake anyway, I thought I may as well bring them to you.’

  ‘That was very good of you. Midwife Lyn Pierce, I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  He held out a hand and as she took it he noticed her ring. ‘That’ll be Mrs Lyn Pierce?’

  ‘I hope it will be Lyn. And although I’m Mrs Pierce, I’m a widow.’ Then she sat upright and looked at him properly for the first time. And he was sensational!

  He had longish blond hair, still wet and now roughly pushed back. His eyes were large, but she couldn’t tell what colour they were. They seemed an odd, indeterminate grey-green. His expression was concerned, thoughtful, but she thought there was humour underneath. And he was a big man! He must have changed because his clothes were dry, but the dampness of his body made the muscles show.

  With a shock, she realised that she hadn’t been so instantly attracted to a man in years. And it was mutual. Something passed between them, some consciousness that things had changed, that life would never be quite the same again. She saw his eyes darken, his expression change. He was as lost as she was. She let go of his hand. She had no idea how long she had held it.

  She tried to find refuge in the ordinary. ‘Well, I’m feeling much better now, Dr Fletcher, and …’

  ‘It’s Adam,’ he said gently, ‘and, as your doctor, I say that you are
n’t much better. I prescribe at least another half-hour’s rest. I’ll fetch you a couple of painkillers and you can lie here quietly. I’ll go next door and read these papers you’ve been to so much trouble to bring. And you’re sure no one will worry about you?’

  ‘No one will worry about me.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s a pity.’ He handed her a glass of water and two pills. ‘Take these and try to rest.’

  So Lyn took them, and did as he told her. Soon the throbbing in her head diminished. It was strangely peaceful, lying there. She could just detect the slight rocking of the cruiser, hear the splashing of waves against the hull. She glanced round the room – no, it was a cabin. She was in a bunk, a double one. There were clothes on a stool and she could see male toiletries on a built-in dresser. A dressing gown hung from a hook. Obviously it was his bedroom and it felt oddly intimate.

  What had happened between them? Why that sudden feeling that they’d known each other before? She must be more shocked than she’d realised. But there was no chance that she would sleep. She’d just shut her eyes for a moment, and then call to him and...

  She seemed to have been asking herself this question a lot recently. Where was she?

  Then recollection flooded back. The trip across the lake, the accident, the pain in her head that was still with her. And meeting Dr Fletcher … Adam. He seemed to be … how did she know he was standing just above her? She opened her eyes, and there he was.

  ‘I heard your breathing change,’ he said, ‘I knew you were waking up so I brought you some tea. Want to sit up?’

  Adam put his arm behind her, eased her forward and dropped a pillow behind her back – just like an experienced nurse, she thought. But as Lyn sat upright the blanket and sheet fell away from her chest, and she clutched them back to her.

  Without changing expression, he threw her a large tracksuit top. ‘Wear this for now. It zips open so you don’t have to pull it over your head. Back in a minute.’ Then he left the room.

  He’s considerate, she thought, as she carefully pulled on the thick garment. We both know he’s undressed me, but he doesn’t want to embarrass me. I think I like him. She reached for the tea he had left her.