The Nurse's Special Delivery Page 16

  ‘Yes, it was.’ Abbie still hadn’t mentioned that weird conversation with Nixon earlier this week and now she definitely wouldn’t. Not the right time or place. ‘Yes, let’s distract each other. Are we sure we’re happy with Michaela for a girl and Michael for a boy?’

  ‘Your call. If you want to honour your husband, then that’s great. Really great. If you want to move on, then that’s good too. This is your baby.’

  ‘Our baby. Yours and mine and Rosie’s. A collective effort for one very longed-for child.’ She looked at her beautiful friend wince in pain, and wondered how she could have agreed to put her through this, but knowing she’d have done the same if given a chance. Because families did come first and, above everything, Emma and Abbie were sisters in everything except blood.

  She wanted to ask her how she felt about handing the baby over after all of this, but couldn’t go there. It was something they’d have to deal with at the time. Nothing could prepare them for that moment. She stroked Emma’s hair back from her face.

  But Emma leaned forward, frowning. ‘What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that? Like I just broke your heart?’

  ‘I’m not. It’s not... I’m not.’ Abbie made herself smile.

  But Emma was starting to tense with the pain. ‘Am I imagining it, then? When I said it was your baby, you jumped right in and said ours. It’s not ours. It’s yours, Abbie. What’s the matter? Don’t you think—? Oh, my God! You don’t think I’m going to give it to you, do you?’

  This.

  On top of Cal leaving. It was too much. One moment Abbie had almost had everything and then...so close to losing everything. ‘I just thought... I couldn’t give my baby away. I don’t know how you can.’

  For a moment, Abbie thought Emma was going to growl at her, but her eyes softened and she covered Abbie’s plaster-casted hand with hers. ‘Oh, honey. I thought you were being a bit weird about it. Every time we talked about this moment you referred to the baby as ours, as if you were suggesting I wanted it and you were trying to keep me sweet. Don’t worry, okay? Whatever happens, I will give you this baby. I love it, yes, of course I do. It’s been inside me for so long I’ve definitely grown attached. But, not to the point of wanting to keep it all for me.’

  ‘So, you’re okay about handing it over? Are you sure?’ Relief rolled through Abbie; she’d been secretly so worried that at the end of these nine months she’d still have no baby to call her own. ‘I should have said something. I’m sorry. I should have trusted you more.’

  ‘Yes, you should have. Or we should have talked more about it. I thought you believed me, but I can imagine how you’ve been worrying. I know what you’re like, Abbie Cook.’

  ‘I heard some women gossiping at work and it sent my head into a spin.’ Seemed that happened a lot these days.

  Emma’s eyes closed for a moment and she seemed to be controlling her breathing; either riding the contraction or just pretending to feel better about things than she wanted to let on... Abbie would never really know. ‘I am absolutely one hundred per cent certain I do not want to keep your baby. I have one of my own, thanks, a sweet five-year-old, and I’m done with nappies and toddler tantrums. Plus, to be honest, I’m a little over heartburn and sleepless nights too. And this, yes, this, lying on a bed in agony...is not exactly fun. I don’t want to be pregnant again for a very long time. If ever... No. Never again!’ Her grip tightened around Abbie’s bruised fingers. ‘Okay. Here we go. This. Bloody. Hurts.’

  ‘I know. I know. I’m so sorry. I wish it was me. You know I can’t thank you enough for this, but...can you hold the other hand, please? This one is damaged enough.’

  ‘Sorry. Sorry. Not sorry. Pass me the gas and air.’ Emma screwed her eyes closed as Abbie ran round to the end of the bed and grabbed the cylinder and mouthpiece. Once back at Emma’s side she let her friend have some long puffs and then stroked her back. ‘You’re doing so well. So very well.’

  Emma puffed out as she breathed through the pain. ‘Things haven’t got interesting yet. We’ll see. Now, no more talk about who’s going to bring up this baby, okay? He’s yours. She’s yours. All yours. With love.’

  ‘Okay. Thank—’

  ‘Hello!’ A midwife came into the room. ‘How are we doing?’

  ‘Managing.’ With a grunt, Emma hauled herself up the bed and Abbie rearranged pillows, feeling useless.

  The midwife looked at the monitor printout and nodded. ‘We can take this off now. Everything is fine there. I just need to check on a couple more things, see how well you’re dilating. You want your friend here?’

  ‘No. She’s going to the shop. I’d like some magazines and mints, please.’ Tired eyes looked over. She was hurting but pretending she was fine. Story of Emma’s life. ‘Go. You never know who you might meet down there.’

  Cal had long gone, Abbie was sure. ‘Okay. Don’t do anything while I’m gone.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. See if you can find him. Talk to him. Phone him. Tell him how you feel.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because this is one chance you won’t have again.’

  ‘But, what about... Scotland? He lives in Scotland.’

  Emma was being draped with a towel and the midwife was about to get serious, but Emma flashed a smile that was filled with love and a positivity that actually hurt Abbie’s heart. ‘We’d get by. You saved me from myself, Abbie. You helped me when I had nowhere to go with that bastard of a man trying to hurt me. I owe you. So what’s a few thousand miles between friends?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go.’ She couldn’t. She couldn’t leave her friend, her family.

  Besides, he hadn’t asked. He understood. Which made it all so much harder.

  One last weak word as the midwife snapped on gloves. ‘Mints?’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Sorry. I’ll go now.’ Abbie tiptoed out and pulled the door behind her, pausing for time. Because she didn’t want to go downstairs and see that he wasn’t there.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CAL HAD MANAGED to keep a lid on things in the hospital, but out on the lake path he let rip; running at top speed for as long as he could push his body, until every muscle screamed for relief. Then doubling up as he hauled as much oxygen as he could into his lungs.

  He’d done the right thing. He had. But everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. He should have stayed with her. He should have told her how he felt.

  But then what? What good would that have done? It would have just mired them deeper into a situation they couldn’t fix.

  The lake was so calm today it was in direct contrast to his insides. He needed to run again. And fast. But, in perfect, typical timing, his phone rang.

  Cal was not in the mood to talk to his brother, but every time he saw the name Finn flash up on his display his heart thundered. Emergency? Depression? Who was watching him? ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. Fine.’ A long sigh. ‘What are you doing?’

  Cal fought for enough breath to manage more than two words. ‘Running. By the lake. Trouble sleeping?’

  ‘Aye. The usual.’

  ‘Maybe you need to do more exercise during the day, Finn. Tire yourself out physically, you know.’ Although right now it didn’t seem to be working for Cal. He felt painfully, hopelessly alive.

  There was a pause. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Cal walked to a lakeside bench. The same bench he’d been at when she’d run past him and challenged him to a race. Damn. Everything about Queenstown would be tinged with memories of her. Good job you’re leaving soon.

  ‘Look, pal, you’re my brother. I know when there’s something wrong. Your voice is flat. You’re not your usual sunny self.’ Finn laughed. Because Cal hadn’t ever been described as sunny and certainly never by his brother. ‘What’s got your goat this time? Job? Me? A w
oman?’

  There was a catch in Cal’s throat and he wheezed. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Ah. Woman.’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Spill the beans, man. I have all night, literally.’ As if to prove his point Finn stretched out on the sofa and Cal got a glimpse of the lounge. Tidy. Neat. Clean. Finn had shaved. Wow, things had taken a turn for the better, just from yesterday. There was something about him that was different too. He was...lighter somehow. His mood was better. Hope underpinned his voice.

  Unlike Cal’s. ‘I don’t feel much like talking.’

  There was another pause. Finn ran a hand over his jaw and smiled. Another unusual thing. ‘That’s not like you. I remember that long night on the ridge and how you blathered on and on and on. I couldn’t shut you up.’

  ‘I was trying to keep you awake. To keep you...you know...with me.’ They’d never talked about that night before. Never gone there. He wasn’t minded to go there now either.

  ‘And you did. And you have, many times since, Cal. I know. I’m grateful. I mean it.’ Finn actually looked a little embarrassed. ‘Really. I owe you. So talk again now.’

  ‘Ach, it’s nothing.’ It was everything. But if he started he might just never stop.

  When had he said that before? Ah yes, to her. And she’d made him talk and he had and he’d felt better. She’d made him better, had helped to heal some wounds.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Abbie.’ There was a fist of pain under his ribcage just saying it. He rubbed to make it go away. It didn’t.

  Finn’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what’s the problem with this Abbie?’

  Where to start? He couldn’t be in two places at once. Didn’t know if he had enough space in his head or his heart for her and a baby when he was already brimful of responsibilities. Plus, the distance. So many problems. But his subconscious seemed to be one step ahead as he blurted out, ‘She’s having a baby.’

  ‘What?’ First time in a while he’d seen his brother’s eyes shine. ‘Way to go! You wee randy devil.’

  Cal kept a small smile to himself, because no way would anyone believe him if he tried to explain the whole story. ‘No. Not mine.’

  ‘But you want it to be yours, right? You want her?’

  ‘Aye.’ More than anything. A huge admission, but yes. He wanted her and this baby.

  ‘So what’s stopping you?’

  You. Me. Fear. Duty. He cleared his throat; no point in going there. ‘How’s everything going?’

  Finn raised his hand and pointed to the clean room. ‘Better, so much better. It’s about time I got my act together and smartened things up—so don’t go thinking I miss you. I’ve got news too. The old boss said I could go back one day a week in the new year. See how I go.’

  ‘Back to work?’ Cal didn’t know how he felt about that. He thought for a moment. A ball of heat filled his chest. Proud, actually. A bit of trepidation. Feeling his brother slipping away a little. In a good way. Cutting some ties. ‘Good. That’s great. You’ll have to sort your sleeping out, though.’

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  It was something they could work on together. ‘Okay, well, we can make an appointment with the doctor and talk it through. When I’m home. I’ve been reading up on sleep routines—’

  ‘Leave it, Cal. I’m managing.’ His brother’s jaw had set. Not a good sign.

  ‘I’ll see you on the nineteenth. We can talk more about it then.’

  ‘Ah—yes. About that.’

  ‘I’ve got a shuttle booked from the airport and Maggie can get some food in. Don’t worry about anything.’

  Finn’s hands were palm up towards the screen. Stop. Stop. Stop. ‘Enough, Cal. Stop it. Stop.’ He scrubbed a hand over his hair, the sheepish look coming back. ‘Thing is...’ He took a big deep breath and blew out slowly. ‘Thing is... I don’t want you to come back.’

  What the hell? ‘Why not?’

  ‘I know you feel responsible for what happened, but you’re not. We made a stupid mistake and we don’t both need to spend the rest of our lives paying for it.’

  ‘But I said—’

  Finn nodded. ‘Yes, I know what you said. I heard every word through that freezing night. Your voice kept me alive Goddammit. You kept me alive.’ He actually did sound grateful and humbled, not angry. Even a little choked up. ‘And thank you, but all of this...living-with-me thing...it’s too much. You can’t put your life on hold for me in some sort of penance.’

  There was no question or debate; he had to look after his brother. ‘It’s not a penance.’

  ‘It’s a pain in the arse, is what it is. I can’t do anything without you telling me how to do it. I know it’s just your way, but I need to live my own life.’ Now he was back to his normal annoying self. Brothers. ‘Oh, and I’m sorry, but I have a confession to make.’

  ‘What?’ Cal’s interest was piqued along with his mood.

  Finn did that funny grimace men did when they didn’t want to say something but knew they had to. A sort of sorry, mate but...tough love kind of thing. ‘It was me who spoke to your boss about an exchange to New Zealand in the first place, and he agreed you needed some space. It was me who paid for the airfare—we didn’t get nearly as much as we wanted to by fundraising. I needed you out of my hair. I needed you to learn how to live without guilt. Everyone else just helped with the organisation and amped up the idea to make you go.’

  The last few months had been a set-up? ‘But I wanted to help you. I still do. It’s my job—you’re my brother. You’re family.’

  ‘Aye. And I still will be whether you live here or in New Zealand or Timbuktu. So—you’re free to do what you want. Go wild, have fun. Or...you know. Go get her.’

  ‘I can’t stop worrying about you just because you want me to.’ Depression sometimes came back. Cal wanted to be there in case it did.

  But Finn shook his head. ‘I’m fine. I’m getting stronger every day. Stop using me as an excuse not to live your life.’

  ‘I’m not. What about the Search and Rescue? My job.’

  ‘Excuses. Just excuses, trying to find reasons why not instead of, why the hell not? I should know, I’ve been doing the same for long enough. You’re scared to commit to anyone or anything in case it goes wrong. But look at me—things do go wrong, but we survive. We survive, Cal, and we live. Time to face reality and make the most of it.’

  ‘Well, now I want whatever it is that you’ve been taking.’ But Finn was right. Cal had worn his duties as a shield, held his job and his brother up as reasons why he couldn’t give his heart to Abbie. But she had it anyway, in the palm of that damaged hand of hers. He’d been afraid of letting her in, because the simple truth of it was that he hadn’t thought he had enough space in his life to take on more. But at what cost? Losing her altogether? Losing the chance of happiness? A life? A family of his own? He was losing all that by not even considering any other way.

  Could he let Finn go, though? Could he stand aside and watch him falter? He wanted so much for him to be well—maybe this was a first shaky step of actually allowing him to be.

  They had daily conversations across the world as it was—nothing there needed to change. And he could still be a brother and a husband and...a father. Something hopeful bloomed in his gut. ‘Er... Finn, you know that skiing trip?’

  ‘Aye?’

  He needed to get back to the hospital and tell her. He hoped she’d be willing to have him in her life. Was it too late? Had he already hurt her enough by leaving her right when she’d needed him most? Would she even want him, when she had her own little family already? He had to try at least. ‘I don’t think I can make it after all.’

  His brother grinned. ‘Well, thank God for that.’

  * * *

  ‘You’re doi
ng so well. So bloody well. I’m so proud of you. Keep breathing, that’s it. Pant. Pant.’ Abbie gripped Emma’s hand and let her squeeze as hard as she wanted to. For the last two hours they’d been in a tight, half-lit cocoon of contractions and hand-holding and tears as the contractions had become closer and stronger.

  But now things were really starting to happen. The midwife peered over Emma’s legs. ‘Good girl. The baby’s crowning. I can see the head.’

  ‘Oh, my God. Oh! This is it. This is real.’ There was a moment when Abbie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both.

  And Emma joined in. But hers were mixed with screams and grunts. ‘I’m...so glad...you didn’t miss this.’

  ‘It’s thanks to Callum that I’m here at all. He drove—’

  He drove me here. He made sure I was safe. He made me love him.

  He was missing out. His loss. She couldn’t believe he’d walked away like that. Or how much she’d hurt at the thought of him not being around. She didn’t want to think of waking up tomorrow and not seeing him. Or being at work hoping for the sound of his voice that would make her day so much better.

  She didn’t want to think of Christmas Day. For so long she’d been looking forward to Christmas and now it felt tarnished without him. But she couldn’t change the fact he didn’t want to be here, couldn’t be here.

  She pushed thoughts of him as far away from here and now as she could. She wiped her friend’s face with a cool damp flannel, wishing there was more she could do to help. ‘You’re amazing, Em. Not long to go.’

  ‘Whoa...! I need to push. Right now!’ And with that Emma took a huge breath and groaned and squeezed and pushed and pushed.

  And Abbie watched and waited and worried.

  ‘Good. Excellent. Yes...yes. Here! A girl. You’ve got a darling girl. All fingers and toes accounted for. She’s gorgeous.’ The midwife handed a squirming, wriggling, waxy baby into Abbie’s waiting hands, but she couldn’t hold it properly and her gut contracted. She dug deep and found enough strength to hold her long enough for one falling-in-love rush. ‘Here. Put her on Emma’s tummy.’