Читать книгу Newborn Baby For Christmas - Fiona Lowe - Страница 9

‘EXCUSE me?’ Hamish tugged at his ear, certain he must have misheard.

‘I want a baby, Haim. I want you to be the father.’

His building anxiety exploded, sending his blood swooping to his feet and making his head spin. The crushing weight of unease pressed down so hard on his chest that it made breathing difficult. Of all the things he’d anticipated her asking, this wasn’t one of them.

He half fell onto his chair, sending it skating backwards. ‘What the …? Georgie, I don’t want to be a father.’

Her mouth flattened on one side. ‘I know you don’t and I’m not asking you to be one.’

He shook his head, trying to quieten the white noise so he could make sense of what she was saying. ‘You just said you want me to be the father of your baby.’

She wrung her hands. ‘I know. Sorry. This isn’t coming out right.’

‘Damn right it isn’t.’ His tight throat and dry mouth barely allowed words to be formed. ‘You and Luke should be having this conversation, not you and me.’

‘Luke’s in Perth. We split up three months ago.’ The words fell flat as her breasts rose and fell. ‘He doesn’t want to be a father.’

‘Neither do I,’ he heard himself yell.

She sat down and pulled her chair up to the desk so she was opposite him and she leaned in close. Yearning burned so brightly in her eyes that he squinted.

‘Although it’s a shock to you, Haim, I’ve had time to think about this and to argue out every single pro and con. This isn’t a whim. Please hear me out.’

Her entreaty penetrated his shock and a sigh rolled through him. What harm was there in listening?

Plenty.

But he couldn’t get past that desolate look in her eyes. ‘Shoot.’

She gave a brisk nod of thanks and sat back on her chair, all businesslike and professional. ‘It’s no secret that I’ve always wanted a family. Growing up an only child is … quiet. Lonely. When Mum and Dad died …’ She bit her lip and breathed in deeply. ‘Since they died two years ago, it’s like I have this empty space inside me, constantly reminding me I’m alone. I thought when Luke suggested we buy a house in Perth it meant we were moving forward as a couple into the future. A future with children, a family.’

Her voice wobbled for a moment. ‘But I was wrong. The moment I brought up the idea of children, Luke bolted and the relationship crashed and burned.’

Hamish totally related to the running but he wasn’t fool enough to say so. All he knew was that when a woman he was dating started pointing to strollers in the street, he was out the door faster than an athlete on steroids.

Georgie’s fingers drummed on the polished oak of his desk, her agitation palpable. ‘My biological clock isn’t just ticking, it’s on full scream continuous alarm. I’m running out of time. In three days I’m turning thirty-five,’ her voice cracked and rose. ‘Thirty-five, Hamish. The age you told me it was okay to panic.’

An accusatory finger pointed at him, bringing back his off-the-cuff comment from so long ago to haunt him like a tormented ghost. How easy it was to spout words—they evaporated long before the mark they left started to fade.

Her intensity had his heart pounding as tendrils of unease threatened to coalesce into fear. It was time to put perspective back into the conversation.

‘So all of this is because of your birthday?’ He tried a reassuring smile. ‘Come on, Georgie, you know I knew nothing at twenty-six. I was just talking through my hat and thirty-five was a random number I plucked out of the air to cheer you up at the time. You and I both know that thirty-five isn’t old.’

She jerked in her seat as if he’d just fired a bullet through her and her mouth hardened. ‘You remember Sue Lipton?’

Hamish nodded, wondering why someone they hadn’t seen in years was being brought into the conversation. ‘Sure, didn’t she do anaesthetics?’

‘Yes, and she married Ryan Spedding. They’re on the IVF programme.’ She pressed her forefinger of her right hand against the thumb of her left, numbering off. ‘So are Emily and Lewis Pearce, and Jessica James has been trying to get pregnant for eleven months.’

He rubbed his forehead as an ache started behind his eyes. ‘And you’re telling me this why?’

‘Because they’re our age and they’re having problems. You’re a doctor, Hamish, and you know that every single day that passes reduces my fertility just that little bit more. I don’t have any more time to waste. If I want a family of my own I have to get pregnant now.’

‘I know you’ve always loved the drama of life but now you need perspective.’ He heard his voice—the tone he used to soothe distressed patients. ‘You do have time to meet someone else.’

‘Stop and listen to yourself, Hamish.’ Her arm shot out for emphasis. ‘You’re the perfect example of the men out there running from commitment. I respect your choice but because you and so many other men are making it, we both know my chances of meeting someone who wants marriage and a family are not remotely good betting odds.’

She folded her hands in her lap as if she was searching for calmness, and when she spoke her voice was softer. ‘So I’m bypassing that step. I have a good job, I’m financially secure, sadly thanks to Mum and Dad’s deaths I can buy a house outright and I want a baby. I want my own family, Haim, and if I have to do it on my own then so be it.’

Her abject frustration and disillusionment bounced between them. He’d never wanted a child but Georgie had longed for one for almost as long as he’d known her. That fact didn’t lessen the reality that her request of him was too much to ask.

‘I get it. You want a kid and you’re skipping the relationship part to get one. So use an anonymous donor.’

She chewed her lip. ‘I could, but …’

Every part of him yelled, Stay firm, don’t ask, but she looked so forlorn that he heard himself saying, ‘But what?’

She leaned toward him again, her face earnest and bright and willing him to understand. ‘A donor’s bio of height, weight, eye, hair colour and job doesn’t tell me personality and that’s not reassuring. You’re my best friend and I know you, warts and all. Despite your love of a party, you’re great stock with a sturdy gene pool.’

‘You make me sound like a racehorse,’ he spluttered as effrontery swirled around the ego-warming compliment that she wanted her child to have his genes.

She shot him a wry smile. ‘You’re intelligent, healthy, giving and most importantly not a psychopath. I want my child to have the smarts to deal with life.’

He spun in the chair, trying to cache his thoughts so he could separate them from the abject terror that thundered through his veins at the thought of a child. ‘I’ve spent years making sure I didn’t create a little Hamish and now you want me to do it deliberately? Aren’t you worried you might be adding another male to the world who isn’t interested in playing happy families?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I might be adding a girl or perhaps a boy like your brothers or a throwback to your dad. As a father of three sons he obviously had no concerns about being a father.’

Four sons. But he didn’t correct her because he’d never told her about Aaron. Once he’d left his home town of Jindi River to go to university, he’d never mentioned his beloved younger brother to anyone—not even Georgie. It was so much easier that way.

She unzipped her massive handbag and pulled out some printed pages bound with green tape and laid them on the table between them. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this, Hamish, and I want to reassure you that all I want is your sperm. Not you, not your time or your money. This will be my baby.’

A niggle of concern jabbed him under his ribs. ‘And when the kid asks about his father?’

Her mouth firmed with resolve. ‘I’ll tell him or her that I used a donor.’

He studied her closely, trying to work out if her words really matched her beliefs. ‘So, you don’t even expect me to be Uncle Hamish?’

She laughed—a spurt of disbelieving sound. ‘Do you even know how to be an uncle? I’m not sure your nephews know you very well, do they?’

He tried to feel insulted but failed because she was right. No matter how much he might want to argue with her on that point, the fact was he didn’t see his five nephews very often at all. They were good kids and he sent them birthday gifts and happily enjoyed their company at Christmas, but that was enough. He was the fun uncle and if he didn’t see much of them then he couldn’t let them down like he’d let down Aaron.

He couldn’t risk having his own child and repeating past mistakes.

He tried to head off this crazy request by going straight to the heart of the matter. ‘Georgie, something like this could ruin our friendship.’

Her straight-shooting gaze hooked him, filled with honesty. ‘It won’t. Another reason I’m asking you is because I know you don’t want a child.’

He had a moment of feeling like he was fighting quicksand. ‘I don’t understand how me not wanting a child makes you ask me.’

‘You’ll leave me in peace to raise him or her alone and do things my way. This is my baby, my new-start family.’

He stared at her as if she were a stranger. Georgie had always wanted the happy-ever-after and the white picket fence so very, very much that he couldn’t believe she was abandoning it completely. ‘Are you really sure you want to do this all on your own? You always said—’

‘That’s the past.’ Her plump lips compressed as her jaw tightened. ‘I want my own family again, to feel part of something. Connected.’

The quiver in her voice socked him straight in the heart. Supporting Georgie through the funeral of her parents had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He had relatives coming out of his ears but Georgie didn’t.

Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘Hey, I know it’s not perfect, but what in life is? The baby and I will be a team of two, and you know what? It’s okay because the flip side is that I get to make all the decisions. I have control and so there’s no risk of me and the baby being abandoned when a man decides yet again that I’m not enough for him.’

He saw the facts on her face and in the depths of her eyes matching up with her words. She was deadly serious. He knew she’d always liked to try and control things in her life and not take too many risks, but having a baby? Hell. He ran his hands through his hair. Having a baby was the biggest out-of-control step in life a person could take.

A long-ago image of Aaron on his bike and he himself screaming ‘Stop!’ rose in his head like a spectre—a haunting ghost who refused to be completely silenced. No matter how many years he’d worked as a doctor, saving lives, travelling to developing countries to help improve the lives of others, the pain of losing a brother had become as much a part of him as his own gristle and bone.

He tried to breathe but it was like trying to move his chest against circular bands of steel. He had to tell her he couldn’t do this and he would, the moment he could get the words out.

‘Haim, I realise I’ve shocked you and my request is totally out of the blue for you.’ She pushed the paperwork towards him and leaned in. ‘But for me it’s a long-held dream. A child will make my life more worthwhile and give me family again. I want a baby so badly that my arms and heart ache constantly.’

He was intimate with heartache and the throb of a faded despair that never fully went away. A baby would make him revisit a maelstrom of emotions and he refused to go there. ‘I’m sorry, Georgie … I don’t think I can help you.’

Her shoulders slumped for a moment and then her chocolate-brown eyes hooked his gaze, filled with everything they’d ever shared. ‘I’ve never asked you for anything, Hamish, and I never will again, but right now I’m asking you, my closest friend in the whole world, not to make a hasty decision, not to say yes or no. All I’m asking is that you think about it. Sleep on it and tell me tomorrow or in three days.’

‘It’s not going—’

‘It might. Time to think is always good. Please, Hamish. Take the papers, read them, write down all your questions and call me.’ She slid her hand over his, her expression filled with pleading. ‘We’ve always talked and shared everything.’

Not quite everything. He swallowed against a constricted throat. God, he hadn’t thought about Aaron in such a long time and today he was present in every sentence.

Tell her you can’t be a sperm donor. Tell her it’s an unequivocal no.

But her longing and despair swirled all around him, pulling at him in ways that made him hesitate.

‘Hamish?’

Her voice sounded small and uncertain, reminding him of the weeks after her parents had died, and he found himself saying, ‘I can’t promise you anything, George, except I’ll read the papers.’

‘Thank you.’ She rose to her feet and hugged him—her arms wrapping around him more tightly than usual.

Her breasts pressed against his chest and her fresh scent of summer flowers swirled around him, and for a split second his off-kilter world steadied. Then she stepped back and life went back to whatever could be called normal.

Hamish put a pouting Stephanie into a taxi and after a distracted goodbye kiss he headed back inside and poured himself a large glass of merlot. As he sat in his study and opened the legal document that Georgie had left him, he hoped he’d find the clause that would provide the perfect excuse for him to say an absolute and indisputable no to her request that he give her a baby.

God, he’d wanted to say no, but every time he’d tried, it had been like being in a fight and having two guys grab hold of his arms to prevent him from taking a swing. He’d opened his mouth but the look on her face when she’d talked about not having a family had stopped him dead. It shouldn’t have because this was as much about him as it was about her, and he knew exactly why he should say no.

He’d failed to keep Aaron safe, failed miserably at being a big brother, and wasn’t that the training ground for fatherhood? He couldn’t be responsible for a child.

So tell her that.

But that would involve telling her about his little brother, about the day that was etched into his mind like a tattoo. He wasn’t prepared to do that. He’d found a way to live with his guilt and resurrecting the past had no value at all. Besides, Georgie wasn’t asking him to be a hands-on father. She’d been very clear on that. He’d be a donor known only to her and with no connection to the baby other than his donated DNA.

Could he do that? He stared out the window. He knew men who prided themselves on being sperm donors and didn’t seem to give a moment’s thought to the fact that they were creating a child—a human being who one day might knock on their door, wanting to connect. Hell, he didn’t want that to happen. He wasn’t father material and he wasn’t letting another child down. He knew the catastrophic consequences of that.

He took a slug of wine, wishing Georgie had never asked him such a huge favour and yet he knew and understood exactly why she had.

What had started out all those years ago as him encouraging ‘the quiet girl’ at college to get involved had unexpectedly turned into a special friendship that had got them both through the tough life of being a med student, the fraught life of an intern and had survived both of them taking slightly different paths in medicine. Not to mention weathering their relationships with other people. Their bond was stronger than superglue and he’d stopped counting how often she’d randomly called him just at a time when he’d needed some support.

Georgie was the antithesis of him. He’d act first, think second. She’d weigh up the pros and cons, which was a great strategy for a doctor but not when it was a movie or a quick meal choice, but once she committed to something she gave it her all. He loved that about her. She’d put herself out of her comfort zone more than once, hiking the overland track in Tasmania with him and learning to surf. Throughout the years they’d always been there for each other, although up until now they’d never really tested the promise they’d made nine years ago.

No matter where I am, if you need me, I’m only a phone call away. He’d made that offer to her in good faith and believing in it utterly.

Son, never make a promise you don’t intend to keep.

He gave an ironic groan. He was pretty sure his father hadn’t been thinking about sharing genes when he’d hammered that lesson into him between the ages of five and twenty. Not even the thought of sex was enough to allay his anxiety. Not that he was against the idea of sex with Georgie. He’d never pursued it because their friendship had always come first and he’d never wanted to risk losing it, but, hell, he was male and there’d been times when he’d wondered what it would be like to bury his head in those amazing breasts. The night they’d graduated he’d got close and then common sense had made them both jump away from each other with an embarrassed laugh, both agreeing that it was a bad idea generated by too much champagne.

He rubbed his face with his hands, feeling the rasp of stubble against his palms. If he applied logic to the problem and removed the emotions, it came down to a single fact. His best friend, a woman who would do anything for him, needed his help. Help he’d offered in the past. Help he was honour-bound to provide.

But where was the line drawn on the statute of reasonable friendship requests?

As much as he was concerned about the impact that him saying yes would have on their friendship, he was more worried about the impact of saying, no.

Georgie held her breath as she sat opposite Hamish in a quiet café overlooking the bay. It had been thirty hours since she’d asked him to be a sperm donor and she’d almost become obsessive compulsive in that time, constantly checking her phone. Last night as she’d sat curled up on the couch—there’d been no point going to bed because sleep had been beyond her—she’d lurched between He agreed to read the paperwork, which means he’s considering it and will say yes, and the more resounding, He’ll say no.

The fact he’d finally called her and said, ‘I need to ask you some questions,’ had fired hope into her, but it was now tinged with dread as she watched Hamish’s clear and steady gaze move over the printed words. Her heart bounced against her ribs and the sound echoed in her ears, deafening her.

Was it too much to ask of him?

Maybe. No. It had never occurred to her not to ask him. He was her best friend and it made total sense to her that he would be the sperm donor for her child. He had great genes, a caring nature and for reasons he’d never really elucidated, despite some gentle probing over the years, he didn’t want to be a father.

She, on the other hand, wanted a baby so much it hurt. She was an experienced doctor, enjoyed family medicine and had been told hundreds of times she was great with kids so she knew she could do this parenting gig on her own and not involve him at all. It was a win-win situation all round.

Hamish glanced up from the second page of the document with a familiar wicked gleam in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since she’d floored him with her request. ‘So, no sex?’

Her usually deep laugh sounded high-pitched and nervous.

She’d be lying to herself if she said she’d never fantasised about what sex would be like with Hamish. What woman wouldn’t when faced with six feet two of a toned, tanned and buff surfer-fit body? But that had been a long time ago and she’d never been one for casual sex, especially if it risked their friendship.

‘Sex is too random and this is too important to leave to chance. I want the back-up of science and technology to maximise my chances of getting pregnant quickly. I’ll have ultrasounds, and thirty-six hours before the intra-uterine insemination, I’ll jab myself with follicle-stimulating hormone.’

His shoulders squared as they tightened with apprehension and his expression became serious once again. ‘So I travel to the IVF clinic in Tasmania to make my deposits?’

‘Yup. They have movies and magazines.’ She tried to lighten his mood. ‘That’s the fun part for you.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly, but we won’t go there. Why Tasmania?’

‘Privacy for both of us. The medical community here is too small and everyone knows everyone. Even if we went to Melbourne, we’d run into people from university. I’ll pay for your air fares and your time because I don’t want you embarrassed or compromised. I figured you could go down for a couple of weekends, enjoy a mini-break on the apple isle and bank a few deposits, so to speak.’

A grudging flash of admiration crossed his face. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’

She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘It’s all I’ve been thinking about for months.’

Thinking, dreaming and planning.

He nodded slowly, his expression contemplative, and he returned to the document.

Time slowed down to a crawl and she wished she could dive inside his head and see and hear exactly what he was thinking. Instead, she had to sit and wait. She was so used to being in charge at work that it didn’t sit easily.

‘They’ll freeze the sperm?’

‘Yes.’

His gaze bored into her. ‘And if you don’t get pregnant from my donations, what then?’

She chewed on her lip. ‘Would you be prepared to donate more?’

A long sigh rumbled out of him. ‘To be honest, George, I’m not even certain I want to do it once.’

‘Oh.’ Her stomach sank as hope dribbled away. She now wished he’d just said no over the phone. She sat tracing the pool of condensation from her water that had dribbled down onto the tabletop.

Hamish leaned forward and stirred his coffee so hard that some splashed into the saucer. ‘I won’t have my name on the birth certificate,’ he muttered softly, ‘and I doubt you can get around that.’

His clipped words hammered her and she spoke quickly, leaping onto a spluttering kernel of hope, keen to allay his concerns. ‘You won’t be named. The one thing that Mum and Dad’s deaths has given me is financial security. When I add in my income, even though it will be reduced with part-time work, I won’t need to claim family assistance. That gives me a loophole to avoid naming the father and I promise that you won’t be named.’

‘What about us spending time together after the baby’s born?’

‘I …’ God, why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d emphasised that this baby was hers and only hers, and she believed that utterly. She shredded a paper napkin and tried to think, realising for the first time that a baby might change everything between them. ‘I understand what you’re saying. I guess I get a babysitter.’ A heavy feeling gathered in her chest and she rubbed her sternum.

He ran one hand across the back of his neck as if his appeal against a death sentence had just been squashed and then he finally closed the document. ‘If I do this, I have a rule.’

If.

A squeal of excitement bubbled up in her as she sensed she was unexpectedly close to getting what she wanted. ‘What is it?’

A seriously stern look entered his eyes, extinguishing the usual fun that mostly lived there. The only other times she’d seen him like this had been when he’d had to deliver bad news to patients or their relatives. The bubbles of excitement inside her burst, splattering trepidation from tip to toe.

‘Georgie, my parents must never find out. Ever.’

His words roared around her and she wasn’t totally certain she understood. ‘Your parents?’

He nodded stiffly. ‘They can’t know they have another grandchild. If they found out it would hurt them too much and I don’t want to inflict that sort of pain on them. They’d also descend on me and then you.’ His hand raked through his hair. ‘And I can’t be responsible for the consequences.’

Sheer relief made her laugh because this so wasn’t a problem. ‘Now who’s being overdramatic? Haim, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve met your family, what …?’ She did a mental count. ‘Three times, so this request is easily met. I’m in Melbourne and they’re in Jindi River so we’re hardly likely to run into each other. I’m making you a solemn promise that your parents will never find out about the baby.’ She stared into his eyes, willing him to say yes.

He raised his outback-blue eyes to hers, meeting them full on, and deep down inside her something lurched. Confused and unsettled, she dropped her gaze and crossed her legs over the discombobulating sensation that spun there. ‘You’re a sperm donor. Nothing more and nothing less.’

Only for some odd reason she wasn’t totally certain exactly who she was reassuring.

Silently, he picked up the pen she’d earlier placed on the table between them with a great deal of hope, and he drew off the lid very slowly. He pushed it onto the top of the pen before bringing the nib down towards the paper with an excruciating lack of speed, as if he still might stall and not sign.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

He paused with the pen a millimetre away from signing. ‘It’s a hell of thing to ask, George.’

‘I know.’

‘If a child is born from this, it’s totally your kid and nothing to do with me.’

‘Absolutely. It’s in the contract you’re about to sign.’

Tension shot through his square jaw. ‘If you do get pregnant, I don’t want blow-by-blow updates or ultrasound pictures. I’m nothing more than a three-time donor.’

Three times? She wanted to argue that, ask for more, but she knew better. She’d take what she could get. ‘I understand.’

‘I don’t want invitations to birthday parties either.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted.’ A tiny whisper of concern gained volume. ‘Haim, baby or no baby, we’re still going to be friends, right?’

‘I want to hope we can be.’ He scrawled his name across the document.

Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

Hamish didn’t meet her gaze or reply. Instead, he downed his coffee in one long gulp.

Georgie picked up the legal papers, hugging them tightly to her chest, and sent up a heartfelt wish. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.