Marion Lennox - His Secret Love-Child

‘Hey, I’m the paediatrician,’ Hamish said. ‘I’m in charge of all of this. You can’t trust underlings these days.’

‘And I’m here in a paramedic capacity,’ Mike told them, also smiling. ‘When there’s so many people packed into a small room, there’s a risk of crush injuries and fainting. Especially when emotions are running high.’ He smiled across at his friends, his brows rising as he noted their linked hands. ‘And emotions seem suddenly to be running a notch higher. Well, well.’

Gina blushed and tried to haul her hand away. Cal held it tighter.

‘But the baby’s OK?’

‘Lucky’s great,’ Jill said, smiling across at the pair of them. ‘He’s…lucky. And we were just talking…’

‘You were talking,’ Charles said. ‘Well, bossing, more like.’

‘I do not boss.’

‘Tell me what you were talking about,’ Gina said, taking pity on her.

‘We thought, seeing as this hospital has been so miserable…’

‘We’re not miserable,’ Cal said, and Gina gave her love a quelling look.

‘Shut up, Cal. You were saying?’

‘Tonight’s been declared a fire night.’

‘A fire night?’

‘We do it often,’ Cal told her, and there was such a smile in his voice that everyone heard it. Everyone saw it. Gina saw every one of their friends register his happiness, and her own joy increased because of it. ‘When we need to celebrate or commiserate or patch up a misunderstanding or whatever, we plan a fire night. We gather all the driftwood we can find on the beach and light it, like some sort of great tribal ceremony.’

‘Um,’ Gina said faintly. ‘Don’t tell me. You make sacrificial offerings and dance to the sound of didgeridoos, naked apart from three stripes of ochre on each cheek.’

‘Hey, I never thought of that,’ Hamish said, brightening.

‘We barbecue sausages,’ Jill said, quelling him with a look. ‘Much more civilised.’

‘Or prawns,’ Mike said, smiling down at their linked hands, ‘In times of high celebration we give sausages a miss and we barbecue prawns.’

‘I guess we are celebrating tonight,’ Em said softly. She put her finger through the access port in the incubator and stroked Lucky’s face. ‘We’ve had these awful deaths. We’ve had such awful…’ She paused for a moment. ‘Such awful things. But life goes on. CJ’s safe, and Lucky’s obs are completely normal. He’s wonderful. He really has been… Lucky.’

‘For more than just himself,’ Cal murmured, and Gina looked at her love and smiled.

‘He has.’

‘He’ll be loved to bits,’ Em said stoutly. ‘We’ll find his mum. I know we will. This little one was born to be loved. He’s just fine.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Cal said. ‘Everything and everything and everything.’

Megan woke, unsure for a moment where she was. Moonlight was streaming in over her coverlet. The shivering had stopped. Her bed was warm and soft, and for just a moment she felt safe and secure, as if everything was OK.

She’d been dreaming. And what a dream…

She’d been holding her baby. Her little son. She’d leaned down and let her face rest against the soft down of his cheek and she’d smelt the new-baby smell of him. It had been so real it was with her still, a reality in a world that had gone mad.

A reality.

It was real. She could see him clearly, and she could sense that he was loved and cared for and at peace.

Her baby was OK.

She was no true believer. Somewhere along the way Megan had lost what religion she’s had, had lost it in despair and bleakness and the sheer desperate grind for survival.

But now…

Her baby was dead, she thought, but her arms still cradled him, her heart still held him.

Her baby was loved.

Her little son…

He was waiting for her. Her tiny boy.

Her baby.

Away from the fire the beach was deserted. The last of the barbecued prawns had been eaten. Hamish was sitting on a mass of driftwood, strumming a guitar and humming something soft and sweet. Maybe dreaming of a girl back in Scotland? CJ and Rudolph had fallen asleep at his feet, a warm and contented bundle of small boy and dog, and when Cal looked queryingly at his friend, Hamish grinned and paused in his strumming long enough to indicate that his friend should go ahead. He’d take over child-and dog-minding duties.

So Cal was free to lead Gina along the beach, out of the pool of light cast by the fire. Out of earshot of their friends.

The night was still and warm. The tide was coming in and Gina and Cal were barefoot, soaking up the cool of the sea between their toes. Soaking up the serenity of the evening. The serenity of certainty-the knowledge that from here they’d move forward together.

‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid,’ Cal said softly. They’d been swinging their hands as they’d wandered toward the headland but now he paused and twisted so he was facing her. ‘What you’ve gone through alone, because of my stupidity…’

‘No.’ She took his face between her hands and smiled up at him. ‘Cal, if five years ago you’d wanted me, if you’d begged me to stay, if you’d wanted CJ as your son, there’d still have been Paul. And Paul was my husband. He was my friend. I’ve been thinking about it. If that phone call had come to say he’d been injured, and you’d loved me and wanted me, maybe I still would have had to go. And how much harder would it have been?’

‘You’d let me off…’

‘There’s no letting off,’ she told him. ‘Five years ago you weren’t ready for loving and I wasn’t free to return that love.’

He thought about that for a moment and still found it unsatisfactory. ‘OK, then,’ he said, grudgingly. ‘But no matter how you look at it, we’ve still wasted two days.’

‘Um…right.’

‘I don’t want to waste any more time.’

‘No.’

‘So will you marry me?’

She thought about it.

‘There’s a few conditions,’ she said at last.

‘Like what?’

She tried to make her face stern. She tried to keep the loving laughter at bay-the joy from showing in her response. This was important.

‘You’re never to ask what my insulin levels are,’ she managed. ‘You’d be my husband, Cal Jamieson, not my doctor. I’ve already asked Charles if he’ll be my physician and he’s agreed.’

‘But-’

‘No negotiation, Cal. I don’t need you as my doctor. Take it or leave it.’

‘I’ll take it.’

‘You’re never to sleep on the opposite side of the bed.’

He grinned. ‘That’s a given.’

‘You’re to tell me when you’re worried or when you’re sick or when you’re frightened.’

‘So you get to know my insulin levels but I don’t get to know yours?’

‘I have the upper hand,’ she said serenely. ‘It may be the last time it happens so I’m making the most of it. Promise me, Cal.’

‘You drive a hard bargain.’

‘I know,’ she said smugly. ‘But it has to start now. So start. Are you worried about anything now?’

‘Um…yes.’

‘Why?’

‘You might not promise to marry me.’

‘I have to think up some more conditions.’

‘What about loving?’ he said softly. ‘And needing. If I promise to need you every day of my life, every hour of every day, every moment…if I promise to need you…’

‘As much as I need you,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think that’s possible.’

‘How can you still need me?’

‘My son loves your stupid dog,’ she said, and her hands slipped to his waist and tugged him into her. ‘CJ loves your dopey dog. I love him and the only way I can get this whole crazy family together is to agree to marry you. So you see…’ But she was forced to pause as his lips met hers, and the pause lengthened and lengthened. When finally she managed to speak again her voice had grown breathless. ‘So you see,’ she whispered. ‘I do need you.’