Betty was asleep. Maggie was still slumped against the cushions, looking anxious. And exhausted. And pale.
‘Febrile convulsion?’ she queried.
‘I’m assuming so,’ he told her. ‘But I’ll check her when your baby’s been checked.’ He was worrying in earnest now. She was looking too shocked, too pale. If he’d messed around this long and she was bleeding…‘Lie back and let me see.’
So she did, and in the middle of chaos there was suddenly peace.
There was no way to rush an ultrasound. There could be no urgency about it. He smoothed the gel over her tummy, settled the paddle and started moving it with care.
The screen beside him started showing images.
She was watching, too. He didn’t need to explain it to her. He moved his hand in careful, precise rhythm, taking in the whole picture with care.
He’d seen so many. This was just one baby more. There was nothing here to make his heart clench.
Only his chest was certainly tight.
One baby more…
Be professional, he told himself, and there was no choice to be anything but. He was focussing first on the placenta, moving carefully, seeing its position, noting carefully the visuals around it. He was looking for pooled blood. Looking for evidence of damage.
Not finding it.
One tiny heart, beating, beating.
A tiny fist curled close to the wand.
A tiny, perfect hand…
A miracle. Just like…
No. He felt himself blink and thought, hell, he was hardly hiding his emotions. If Maggie was watching him…
Only of course Maggie wasn’t watching him. She had eyes only for the screen. He glanced at her and saw tears coursing down her cheeks, and a tremulous smile.
‘He’s okay,’ she whispered, fighting to get the words out.
‘Did you think he wouldn’t be?’
‘I shouldn’t think. If I wasn’t a doctor I wouldn’t think. I wouldn’t have even known about torn placentas. I’d have felt him kick and thought he was fine.’
‘He is fine.’ Involuntarily he flicked a tear from her cheek and it was just as well he was still holding the paddle for he was suddenly aware of an almost overwhelming urge to let it go and gather her into his arms. To take away the look of almost unbearable strain.
This woman was so alone.
‘When did your husband die?’ he asked gently as he moved the wand on.
‘Three years ago.’
His hand paused in mid-stroke.
‘World’s longest pregnancy,’ Maggie whispered, still watching the screen. Then she managed a wavering smile. ‘Sorry. William had non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and we stored sperm before he started chemotherapy. When the chemotherapy didn’t work he said if I ever wanted to have his baby he’d be honoured. At first the thought was unbearable but gradually it seemed…right. But it took me this long and Betty’s coercion to feel strong enough, and maybe that strength was an illusion anyway.’
She winced and bit her lip, fighting for composure. ‘But, hey, it’s okay,’ she said, and struggled to smile again. ‘As long as my baby’s fine.’
‘He is,’ he said. And then he paused.
They were both looking at the screen.
‘You know you called him Archibald?’ Max ventured cautiously, not sure where to take this conversation with a colleague who was seeing exactly what he was seeing. ‘That may cause problems. Not that unusual names aren’t all the rage, but…’
‘
‘You didn’t know?’
She was staring at the screen in stunned amazement. ‘I had my last ultrasound at three months, but Betty and I always assumed it’d be a boy.’
‘Because?’
‘Because Betty has a blue crib,’ she breathed. ‘She’s been knitting blue matinee jackets for ever. Someone should alert the share market. It’s about to be flooded with blue.’ She looked again at the screen, seeing the irrefutable evidence, and she was smiling again, this time like she meant it. ‘Don’t tell Betty,’ she whispered.
‘You think she’ll be upset?’
‘She wants a boy so much, and why tell her?’ The smile faded and her voice was suddenly bleak again. ‘Do you think Betty will live to see my baby born?’
He glanced across at Betty. She’d collapsed into sleep but it was more than sleep. The amount of morphine he’d given her couldn’t explain the look of total lack of consciousness. He shifted slightly so he could reach over and take her wrist. Her skin was parched and dry, her pulse was thready and her fingers were cold to touch.
‘She needs fluids,’ he said. ‘She’s dehydrated. And blood tests. Is she hypoxic?’
‘I’m assuming so. She hasn’t let me do anything but give her pain relief for weeks now. But it’s okay. It’s what she wants. And now…now I know my baby’s okay…If you could just check the other one before you go…’
‘The other one?’
‘The one you left in the bathroom,’ she reminded him.
He knew that. But he was moving past it in his head. Facing the inevitable.
‘Okay, here’s the plan,’ he said softly. ‘I stay here. I attend to our bathroom baby. I dress your head and your knee, I keep a check on you tonight to make sure your head injury’s not causing trouble, and in the morning I find a way to get you X-rayed. Until those things happen I’m not leaving.’
She stared up at him for a long moment-and then she closed her eyes. For a moment he thought she was going to react with anger. With denial.
Instead she opened her eyes again and the relief he saw there was stunning. Her face looked lighter, younger. Free. As if an unbearable burden had been lifted.
He’d given her a promise of one night. Her eyes said it was much more.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered softly. ‘You have no idea how much I would love you to stay.’ And she reached up and took his hand and held it.
He’d finished the ultrasound. He’d sorted Maggie’s need for the night. His next priority was the baby in the bathroom. He should move.
Instead he stayed, looking into her eyes while her hand held his. Just looking.
Feeling the touch of Maggie’s hand, and knowing it was so much more.
Feeling a web he’d taken years to break free from tighten once more inexorably around his heart.
This woman was pregnant. This woman represented everything he ran from.
Yet still he couldn’t disengage his hand.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE tepid bath had worked. When he finally made it to the bathroom he found the little family comforted and happy.
‘We need two doctors so much,’ the woman said as he saw them to their car a little later, the baby wrapped in light cotton and nothing else. ‘We had old Doc Sharrandon, but the minute Maggie arrived he left. Said he’d waited ten years too long for retirement and he wasn’t waiting a minute longer. So instead of having one ancient doctor we have one pregnant one. Not that we’re complaining. Maggie’s lovely, only it’s too much for her.’
It was.
