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‘Really?’
‘Really. Have a chip before we lose the lot.’
The kids were asleep when she got home, and so was Adrianna. The house was in darkness. Oliver swung out of the driver’s seat as if he meant to accompany her to the door, but she practically ran.
‘I need my bed, Oliver. Goodnight.’
He was still watching her as she closed the front door. She’d been rude, she admitted as she headed for the children’s bedroom. He’d given her a day out, a day off. If he’d been a stranger she would have spent time thanking him.
She should still thank him.
Except … he’d kissed her. He’d said he loved her.
She stood in the kids’ bedroom, between the two cots, watching them sleeping in the dim light cast by a Humpty Dumpty figure that glowed a soft pink to blue and then back again.
She had to work with him, she reminded herself. She needed to get things back to a formal footing, fast.
Resolute, she grabbed her phone and texted.
Thank you for today. It was really generous. The kiss was a mistake but I dare say the gulls are grateful. And Mum and I are grateful, too.
That’s what was needed, she thought. Make it light. Put the gratitude back to the plural—herself and her mother—and the seagulls? She was thanking someone she’d once known for a generous gesture.
Only … was it more than that? Surely.
He’d kissed her. Her fingers crept involuntarily to her mouth. She could still feel him, she thought. She could still taste him.
After five years, her body hadn’t forgotten him.
Her body still wanted him.
He’d said he still loved her.
Had she been crazy to walk away from him all those years ago? Her body said yes, but here in this silent house, listening to the breathing of two children who’d become her own, knowing clearly and bleakly where they’d be if she hadn’t taken them in, she could have no regrets. Her mind didn’t.
It was only her heart and her body that said something else entirely.
What he wanted to do was stand outside and watch the house for a while. Why? Because it felt like his family was in there.
That was a dumb thought. He’d laid down his ultimatum five years ago and he’d moved on. He’d had five professionally satisfying years getting the skills he needed to be one of the world’s top in-utero surgeons. Babies lived now because of him. He’d never have had that chance if he’d stayed here—if he’d become part of Em’s menagerie.
He couldn’t stay standing outside the house, like a stalker, like someone creepy. What he’d like was to take his little Morgan for a long drive along the coast. The car was like his balm, his escape.
Em had smashed his car. She’d also smashed … something else.
She’d destroyed the equilibrium he’d built around himself over the last few years. She’d destroyed the fallacy that said he was a loner; that said he didn’t need anyone.
He wanted her. Fiercely, he wanted her. He’d kissed her tonight and it would have been worth all the fish.
It had felt right.
It had felt like he’d been coming home.
His phone pinged and he flipped it open. Em’s polite thank-you note greeted him, and he snapped it shut.
She was making light of the kiss. Maybe that was wise.
Dammit, he couldn’t keep standing here. Any moment now she’d look out the window and see him. Ex-husband loitering …
He headed back to the hire car. He had an apartment at the hospital but he wasn’t ready for sleep yet. Instead, he headed back to the beach. He parked, got rid of his shoes and walked along the sand.
The night was still and warm. This evening the beach had been filled with families, kids whooping it up, soaking up the last of Melbourne’s summer, but now the beach seemed to be the domain of couples. Couples walking hand in hand in the shallows. Couples lying on rugs on the sand, holding each other.
Young loves?
He walked on and passed a couple who looked to be in their seventies, maybe even older. They were walking slowly. The guy had a limp, a gammy hip? The woman was holding his hand as if she was supporting him.
But the hold wasn’t one of pure physical support, he thought. Their body language said they’d been holding each other for fifty years.
He wanted it still. So badly …
Could he take on the kids? Could he take that risk?
Was it a risk? He’d held Gretta today and what he’d felt …
She had Down’s syndrome with complications. Tristan said her life expectancy could be measured in months. It was stupid—impossible even—to give your heart to such a kid.
He could still hear his adoptive mother …
‘It’s not like he’s really ours. If we hadn’t had Brett then we wouldn’t have known what love really is. And now … we’re stuck with him. It’s like we have a cuckoo in the nest …’
If he ever felt like that …
It was too hard. He didn’t know how to feel.
But Em had made the decision for him. She’d moved on, saying he was free to find someone and have kids of his own. Kids who he could truly love.
Hell. He raked his hair and stared out at the moonlit water.
Melbourne’s bay was protected. The waves were small, even when the weather was wild, but on a night like this they were practically non-existent. The windsurfers had completely run out of wind. The moonlight was a silver shimmer over the sea and the night seemingly an endless reflection of the starlit sky.
He wanted Em with him.
He wanted her to be … free?
It wasn’t going to happen. She had encumbrances. No, he thought, she has people she loves. Kids. Her mother. Not him.
It’s for the best, he thought, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and practically glaring at the moon. I should never have come to the Victoria. I wouldn’t have if I’d known Em would be here.
So leave?
Maybe he would, he thought. He’d agreed with Charles Delamere on a three-month trial.
Twelve weeks to go?
CHAPTER TEN
ON MONDAY OLIVER hit the wards early. He’d been in the day before, not because he’d been on duty but because he’d wanted to check on Ruby. But Ruby was doing all the right things and so was her baby, so he didn’t check her first. He worked on the things he needed for his embryonic research lab, then decided to check the midwives’ roster and choose a time to visit Ruby when he knew Em wouldn’t be around.
So he headed—surreptitiously, he thought—to the nurses’ station in the birthing centre—just as Isla Delamere came flying down the corridor, looking, for Isla, very harassed indeed.
When she saw Oliver she practically sagged in relief.
‘Dr Evans. Oliver. I know your specialty’s in-utero stuff and I know Charles has said you can spend the rest of your time on your research but you’re an obstetrician first and foremost, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Of course he was.
‘I have four births happening and we’re stretched. Two are problems. Emily’s coping with one, I have the other. Mine’s a bit of a spoilt socialite—she was booked at a private hospital but had hysterics at the first labour pain so her husband’s brought her here because we’re closer. I can deal with that. But Em’s looking after a surrogate mum. She’s carrying her sister’s child—her sister’s egg, her sister’s husband’s sperm, all very organised—but the emotion in there seems off the planet. Maggie’s a multigravida, four kids of her own, no trouble with any, but now she’s slowed right down and her sister’s practically hysterical. But we can’t kick her out. Oliver, Em needs support. Our registrar’s off sick, Darcie’s at a conference, Sean’s coping with a Caesar so that leaves you. Can you help?’
‘Of course.’
‘Excellent. Here are the case notes. Suite Four.’
‘You’re okay with yours?’
‘My one wants pethidine, morphine, spinal blocks, amputation at the waist, an immediate airlift to Hawaii and her body back,’ Isla said grimly. ‘And she’s only two centimetres dilated. Heaven help us when it’s time to push. But I’ve coped with worse than this in my time. What Em’s coping with seems harder. She needs you, Dr Evans. Go.’
The last time he’d seen her he’d kissed her. Now …
Em seemed to be preparing to do a vaginal examination. She was scrubbed, dressed in theatre gear, looking every inch a midwife. Every inch a professional. And the look she gave him as he slipped into the room had nothing to do with the kiss, nothing to do with what was between them. It was pure, professional relief.
‘Here’s Dr Evans,’ she said briskly to the room in general. ‘He’s one of our best obstetricians. You’re in good hands now, Maggie.’
‘She doesn’t need to be in good hands.’ A woman who looked almost the mirror image of the woman in the bed—except that she was smartly dressed, not a hair out of place, looking like she was about to step into a boardroom—was edging round the end of the bed to see what Em was doing. She ignored Oliver. ‘Maggie, you just need to push. Thirty-six hours … You can do this. It’s taking too long. Just push.’
Em cast him a beseeching look—and he got it in one. The whole set-up.
A guy who was presumably Maggie’s husband was sitting beside her, holding her hand. He looked almost as stressed as his labouring wife.
The other woman had a guy with her, as well, presumably her husband, too? He was dressed in casual chinos and a cashmere sweater. Expensive. Smooth.
Both he and his wife seemed focused on where the action should be taking place. Where their child would be born. Even though the woman had been talking to Maggie, she’d been looking at the wrong end of the bed.
Surrogate parenthood … Oliver had been present for a couple of those before, and he’d found the emotion involved was unbelievable. Surrogacy for payment was illegal in this country. It had to be a gift, and what a gift! To carry a child for your sister …
But Maggie wasn’t looking as if she was thinking of gifts. She was looking beyond exhaustion.
Thirty-six hours …
‘Can’t you push?’ Maggie’s sister said again, fretfully. ‘Come on, Maggie, with all of yours it was over in less than twelve hours. The book says it should be faster for later pregnancies. You can do it. You have to try.’
‘Maggie needs to go at her own pace,’ Em said, in a tone that told him she’d said it before, possibly a lot more than once. ‘This baby will come when she’s ready.’
‘But all she needs to do is push …’
He’d seen enough. He’d heard enough. Oliver looked at Maggie’s face, and that of her husband. He looked at Em and saw sheer frustration and he moved.
‘Tell me your names,’ he said, firmly, cutting off the woman who looked about to issue another order. ‘Maggie, I already know yours. Who are the rest of you?’
‘I’m Rob,’ said the man holding Maggie’s hand, sounding weary to the bone. ‘I’m Maggie’s husband. And this is Leonie, Maggie’s sister, and her husband, Connor. This is Leonie and Connor’s baby.’
‘Maybe we need to get something straight,’ Oliver said, gently but still firmly. He was focusing on Maggie, talking to the room in general but holding the exhausted woman’s gaze with his. ‘This baby may well be Leonie and Connor’s when it’s born, but right now it has to be Maggie’s. Maggie needs to own this baby if she’s going to give birth successfully. And I’m looking at Maggie’s exhaustion level and I’m thinking we need to clear the room. She needs some space.’
‘But it’s our baby.’ Leonie looked horrified. ‘Maggie’s agreed—’
‘To bear a baby for you,’ he finished for her. Em was watching him, warily now, waiting to see where he was going. ‘But right now Maggie’s body’s saying it’s hers and her body needs that belief if she’s to have a strong labour. I’m sorry, Leonie and Connor, but unless you want your sister to have a Caesarean, I need you to leave.’
‘We can’t leave,’ Leonie gasped. ‘We need to see her born.’
‘You may well—if it’s okay with Maggie.’ They were in one of the teaching suites, geared to help train students. It had a mirror to one side. ‘Maggie, that’s an observation window, with one-way glass. Is it okay if your sister and her husband move into there?’
‘No.’ Leonie frowned at Oliver but the look on both Maggie and Rob’s faces was one of relief.
‘I just … need … to go at my own pace,’ Maggie whispered.
‘But I want to be the first one to hold our baby,’ Leonie snapped, and Oliver bit his tongue to stop himself snapping back. This situation was fraught. He could understand that sisterly love was being put on the back burner in the face of the enormity of their baby’s birth, but his responsibility was for Maggie and her baby’s health. Anything else had to come second.
‘What Maggie is doing for you is one of the most generous gifts one woman can ever give another,’ he said, forcing himself to stay gentle. ‘She’s bearing your baby, but for now every single hormone, every ounce of energy she has, needs to believe it’s her baby. You need to get things into perspective. Maggie will bear this baby in her own time. Her body will dictate that, and there’s nothing you or Connor can say or do to alter it. If Maggie wants to, she’ll hold her when she’s born. That’s her right. Then and only then, when she’s ready and not before, she’ll make the decision to let her baby go. Emily, do you agree?’
‘I agree,’ she said.
Em had been silent, watching not him but Maggie. She was a wonderful midwife, Oliver thought. There was no midwife he’d rather have on his team, and by the look on her face what he was suggesting was exactly what she wanted. The problem, though, was that the biological parents exuded authority. He wouldn’t mind betting Leonie was older than Maggie and that both she and her husband held positions of corporate power. Here they looked like they’d been using their authority to push Maggie, and they wouldn’t have listened to Em.
Isla had sent him in for a reason. If this had been a normal delivery then Em could have coped alone, but with the level of Maggie’s exhaustion it was getting less likely to be a normal delivery.
Sometimes there were advantages to having the word Doctor in front of his name. Sometimes there were advantages to being a surgeon, to having given lectures to some of the most competent doctors in the world, to have the gravitas of professional clout behind him.
Sometimes it behoved a doctor to invoke his power, too.
‘Maggie, would you like to have a break from too many people?’ he asked now.
And Maggie looked up at him, her eyes brimming with gratitude. ‘I … Yes. I mean, I always said that Leonie could be here but—’
‘But your body needs peace,’ Oliver said. He walked to the door and pulled it wide. ‘Leonie, Connor, please take seats in the observation room. If it’s okay with Maggie you can stay watching. However, the mirror is actually an electric screen. Emily’s about to do a pelvic examination so we’ll shut the screen for that so you can’t see, but we’ll turn it back on again as soon as Maggie says it’s okay. Is that what you want, Maggie?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘But she promised …’ Leonie gasped.
‘Your sister promised you a baby,’ Oliver told her, still gently but with steel in every word. ‘To my mind, that gift needs something in return. If Maggie needs privacy in this last stage of her labour, then surely you can grant it to her.’
And Leonie’s face crumpled. ‘It’s just … It’s just … Maggie, I’m sorry …’
She’d just forgotten, Oliver thought, watching as Leonie swiped away tears. This was a decent woman who was totally focused on the fact that she was about to become a mother. She’d simply forgotten her sister. Like every other mother in the world, all she wanted was her baby.
She’d have to wait.
He held the door open. Leonie cast a wild, beseeching look at Maggie but Em moved fast, cutting off Maggie’s view of her sister’s distress. Maggie didn’t need anyone else’s emotion. She couldn’t handle it—all her body needed to focus on was this baby.
‘We’ll call you in when Maggie’s ready to receive you,’ Oliver said cheerfully, as if this was something that happened every day. ‘There’s a coffee machine down the hall. Go make yourself comfortable while Maggie lets us help her bring your baby into the world.’
And he stood at the door, calm but undeniably authoritative. This was his world, his body language said, and he knew it. Not theirs.
They had no choice.
They left.
Em felt so grateful she could have thrown herself on his chest and wept.
The last couple of hours had been a nightmare, with every suggestion she made being overridden or simply talked over by Leonie, who knew everything. But Maggie had made a promise and Maggie hadn’t been standing up to her. Em had had to respect that promise, but now Oliver had taken control and turned the situation around.
Now there were only four of them in the birthing suite. Oliver flicked the two switches at the window.
‘I’ve turned off sight and sound for the moment,’ he told Maggie. ‘If you want, we’ll turn on sight when you’re ready, but I suggest we don’t turn on sound. That way you can say whatever you want, yell whatever you want, and only we will hear you.’
‘She wants to be here …’ Maggie whispered, holding her husband’s hand like she was drowning.
‘She does, but right now this is all about you and your baby.’ He put the emphasis on the your. ‘Emily, you were about to do an examination. Maggie, would you like me to leave while she does?’
Em blinked. An obstetrician, offering to leave while the midwife did the pelvic exam? Talk about trust …
‘But you’re a doctor,’ Maggie whispered.
‘Yes,’
‘Then stay. I sort of … I mean … I need …’
‘You need Oliver’s clout with your sister,’ Em finished for her. ‘You need a guy who can boss people round with the best of them. You’ve got the right doctor for that here. Oliver knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. Right now Oliver wants a safe delivery for your baby and there’s no one more likely than Oliver to help you achieve it.’
He stayed. Maggie’s labour had eased right off. She lay back exhausted and Em offered to give her a gentle massage.
He watched as Em’s hands did magical things to Maggie’s body, easing pain, easing stress.
Once upon a time she’d massaged him. He’d loved …
He loved …
Peace descended on the little room. At Maggie’s request Oliver flicked the window switch again so Leonie and Connor could watch, but she agreed with Oliver about the sound.
As far as Leonie and Connor were concerned, there was no audio link. Any noise Maggie made, anything they said, stayed in the room.
Maggie’s relief was almost palpable, and as Em’s gentle fingers worked their magic, as Maggie relaxed, the contractions started again. Good and strong. Stage two was on them almost before they knew it.
‘She’s coming,’ Maggie gasped. ‘Oh, I want to see.’
And Oliver supported her on one side and Rob supported her on the other, while Em gently encouraged.
‘She’s almost here. One more push … One more push, Maggie, and you’ll have a daughter.’
And finally, finally, a tiny scrap of humanity slithered into the world. And Em did as she did with every delivery. She slid the baby up onto Maggie’s tummy, so Maggie could touch, could feel, could savour the knowledge that she’d safely delivered a daughter.
The look on Maggie’s face …
Oliver watched her hand touch her tiny baby, he watched her face crumple—and he made a fast decision. He deliberately glanced at the end of the bed and carefully frowned—as if he was seeing something that could be a problem—and then he flicked the window to black again.
He put his head out the door as he did.
‘It’s great,’ he told Leonie and Connor, whose noses were hard against the glass, who turned as he opened the door as if to rush in, but his body blocked them. ‘You can see we have a lovely, healthy baby girl, but there’s been a small bleed. We need to do a bit of patching before you come in.’
‘Can we take her? Can we hold her?’
‘Maggie needs to hold her. The sensation of holding her, maybe letting her suckle, will help the delivery of the placenta; it’ll keep things normal. Maggie’s needs come first right now. I assume you agree?’
‘I … Yes,’ Leonie whispered. ‘But we agreed she wouldn’t feed her. I just so want to hold her.’
‘I suspect you’ll have all the time in the world to hold her,’ Oliver told her. ‘But the feeding is part of the birthing process and it’s important. I’m sorry but, promises or not, right now my focus is on Maggie.’
Em’s focus was also on Maggie. She watched while Maggie savoured the sight of her little daughter, while she watched, awed, as the little girl found her breast and suckled fiercely.
Her husband sat beside her, silent, his hand on her arm. He, too, was watching the baby.
Without words Em and Oliver had changed places—
Oliver was coping with the delivery of the placenta, checking everything was intact, doing the medical stuff. This was a normal delivery—there was no need for him to be here—but still there was pressure from outside the room and he knew that once he left Leonie and Connor would be in here.
‘You know,’ he said mildly, to the room in general, ‘there’s never been a law that says a surrogate mother has to give away her baby. No matter how this baby was conceived, Maggie, you’re still legally her birth mother. If you want to pull back now …’
But Maggie was smiling. She was cradling her little one with love and with awe, and tears were slipping down her face, but the smile stayed there.
‘This little one’s Leonie’s,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve seen Leonie at her worst—she’s been frantic about her baby and it was no wonder she was over the top at the end. But I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve given us space to say goodbye. To send her on with love.’
How could she do this? Oliver wondered, stunned. She’d gently changed sides now so the baby was sucking from the other breast. The bonding seemed complete; perfect.
‘It’s not like we’re losing her,’ Rob ventured, touching the little one’s cheek. ‘She’ll be our niece and our goddaughter.’
‘And probably a bit more than that,’ Maggie said, still smiling. ‘Our kids will have a cousin. My sister will have a baby. To be able to do this … She’s not ours, you can see. She has Connor’s hair. None of ours ever looked like this. But, oh, it’s been good to have this time.’ She looked up at them and smiled, her eyes misty with tears. ‘Em, would you like to ask them to come in now?’
‘You’re sure?’ Em asked, with all the gentleness in the world. ‘Maggie, this is your decision. As Oliver says, it’s not too late to change your mind.’
‘My mind never changed,’ Maggie said, serene now, seemingly at peace. ‘While I was having her she felt all mine and that was how I wanted to feel. Thank you for realising that. But now … now it’s time for my sister to meet her baby.’
‘How could she do that?’
With medical necessities out of the way, Oliver and Em were able to back out of the room. Leonie was holding her daughter now, her face crumpled, tears tracking unchecked. Connor, too, seemed awed.
Rob was still holding Maggie but the two of them were watching Leonie and Connor with quiet satisfaction.
‘Love,’ Em said softly, as they headed to the sinks. ‘I don’t know how surrogacy can work without it.’
‘Do you seriously think Leonie can make a good mother?’
‘I do. I’ve seen her lots of times during Maggie’s pregnancy—she’s been with her all the way. Yeah, she’s a corporate bigwig, but her life has been prescribed because she and Connor couldn’t have children. Maggie seems the ultimate earth mother—and she is—but she and Leonie love each other to bits. I suspect the over-the-top reaction we saw from Leonie in there—and which you saved us from—was simply too much emotion. It felt like her baby was being born. She wanted what was best for her baby and everything else got ignored. Mums are like that,’ she said simply. ‘And thank God for it.’