The Most Magical Gift of All (13 page)

At least she was wearing pyjamas.

He scratched his head, vaguely remembering the storm and Sophie bringing Imogen into bed because she was scared. She wasn't scared any longer, and she wasn't even in bed, but he was, and he'd been completely wrapped around Sophie like a second skin. He swallowed a groan. ‘It's number twenty today.'

‘OK.' Im found the number, peeled back the card board and put the chocolate in her mouth. ‘Can I watch TV?'

‘Sure,' Jack replied weakly, relieved that television was the topic of the question and not why he'd been cuddling Sophie when there wasn't a scary storm. ‘You go and get comfy on the couch and I'll be there in a minute to put on the DVD.'

‘A Christmas one.'

‘A Christmas one. Off you go and choose the one you want.'

Imogen ran from the room and Jack fell back on the pillow, his hands over his face.

Sophie started to laugh, the sound initially relieved before morphing into a full-on throaty chuckle. ‘Oh, poor Jack. You've worked so hard to compartmentalise your life and keep everything separate, and despite all that your lover and your ward end up in your bed—no doubt along with the elephant in the room, that is what the town might think. All in all, it's your worst nightmare.'

He propped himself up on his elbow, watching her animated face, and his indignation simmered. ‘I don't compartmentalise my life.'

Her face sobered. ‘Sure you do. You're like Jack in
The Importance of Being Earnest
. He was Earnest in town and Jack in the country.'

She'd nailed him perfectly and he didn't like it one bit. ‘That is a ridiculous analogy.'

Her brows rose arched in query. ‘I'll concede you don't change your name, but you do change your personality. Think about it.' She touched his arm, her fingers gently caressing him. ‘Just because your father worked out his wild streak before he settled down in Barragong, doesn't mean you have to subjugate yours and live this
sedate life which isn't really you. You can still be a wonderful doctor, a worthy member of the Armitage family
and
be true to yourself, and break out now and then when the whim takes you.'

Her words punched like the jarring sound of a nail gun, but he shut them out, not wanting to think about the town, his job and following in worthy footsteps. He pulled her into his arms instead. ‘I don't think you can call what we did at the water hole, the woolshed or the old mill “sedate”.'

‘No, it was far from sedate, thank you.' She kissed him with a light touch but then her dancing eyes clouded. ‘We ran away to do it, which I don't have a problem with, but it's hardly an example of you breaking out.'

‘I did it for you so you were out and away from the house and all the Christmas decorations.'

‘I appreciate that, but I don't think you were being one-hundred-percent philanthropic. I worry you're letting your distorted sense of duty to the town and your family cage you.'

He stiffened. ‘I don't need your worry or concern, Sophie. I'm a grown man.'

Honesty stared him down. ‘All I'm saying is that you need to either leave town or find a way of living in Barragong that works for you so you can be the man you really are. I know you have this thing about the town.'

His gut clenched. ‘You don't understand, Sophie. When Mary left, I was the talk of the town.'

‘So you locked yourself down and took your pleasures elsewhere—I get that. But, Jack, this town loves you. You're well-respected, and I know I wasn't here, but I can imagine most of the talk would have been more to do with people being incensed with Mary rather than it being about you. Now you've trapped yourself.'

The walls of the bedroom seemed to close in on him. ‘I'm not trapped. Hell, I'm leaving town in twelve days.'

‘I'm not talking a physical trap, Jack.' Her brow creased. ‘Perhaps in a way I am. All I know is that I've watched you with Imogen and you'd make a wonderful father, but how are you going to meet someone when you're hiding half of who you really are and letting your head jail you emotionally?'

It's me or the town, Jack.
‘You're forgetting my ex-wife. She knew me, and she couldn't handle living in the fish bowl that's this town.'

She sat up and crossed her arms. ‘Jack, a woman who loves you will stay. Look at your parents—your mum was happily married to your dad in this town, and from what you said they had a great partnership.'

He hated the way she'd seen down to his soul so he sat up and locked eyes with her. ‘So, now you've planned out my life, let's take a look at yours, shall we? I expected you to bolt the moment Imogen woke us up. Your look was pure horror.'

‘Well, she didn't look too emotionally scarred at seeing us in bed.' She leaned in close, her eyes twinkling. ‘Besides, we weren't doing anything x-rated, even if you were thinking about it.'

He recognised she was flirting with him to change the subject, and he should have called her on it now he'd worked out she used sex and flirting to keep everything superficial and to protect herself. But his body overruled his brain and he joined in, holding his arms up in mock ire. ‘Hey, I was asleep.'

‘Your body wasn't.' She kissed him, a combination of soft, enticing pressure and hard, erotic demand, her mouth so familiar with his that she knew exactly where
and how to arouse him. He remembered the sensational feeling of waking up wrapped around her. His body instantly responded.

‘Jack!' Imogen's voice drifted down the hall.

He groaned and broke the kiss.

Sophie grinned. ‘Tell you what, Jack—I'll help you out by going and putting on the DVD and making some tea while you make yourself decent.' She jumped out of bed and padded down the hall.

He didn't get up immediately, giving his body time to redistribute his blood from his groin. He hadn't shared his bed with a woman all night since Mary, and even then he couldn't recall feeling like this. But then this wasn't marriage with all its inherent pitfalls. What he and Sophie were sharing had absolutely nothing at all to do with real life. Sophie was gorgeous and exhilarating, but she was a fleeting visitor in his life. Despite what she'd said about how he lived, he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was the only way to be in Barragong.

The phone rang twice but stopped before his hand touched it. He sat up and pulled a T-shirt over his head, running through a mental list of Saturday chores. He'd promised to take Imogen to the Barragong gift shop so she could choose a present for his mother and Sophie, while Sophie conducted the morning clinic.

Pounding feet sounded in the hall and a moment later Sophie opened the door minus the tea tray. ‘That was Max—Diana's in labour. Solid contractions, two minutes apart.'

He frowned and pulled on his shorts. ‘She's four weeks early.'

Sophie twirled her hair on top of her head and jammed in a comb. ‘Max says she wants you.'

‘She and the baby need both of us.'

‘Fine, but it's Saturday—what about Imogen?'

The solution was simple. ‘She comes with us.'

 

Sophie set Imogen up in the nursing-home wing where she happily joined in having breakfast with the residents. ‘You ask Helen if you need anything, OK?'

Imogen patted Buddy, the old golden Labrador who was the spoilt resident-dog. ‘Will you come back?'

Sophie's heart hurt and she hugged her, hating that her mother had created in a lovely little girl this ever-present anxiety of being left. ‘Of course I'll come back.'

Imogen's eyes stared at her, so similar in colour to her own, their gaze tainted with a hint of scepticism. ‘OK.' Imogen went back to cuddling the dog.

Sophie bent down so she was the same height as the child. ‘Imogen, I'm coming back. When the baby is born, I'll come and get you, I promise.'

Helen, the nurse in charge, put her hand on Sophie's shoulder. ‘The residents love having visitors, and she's safe here. Now, you go and look after my best friend and help Jack deliver that longed-for baby.'

Sophie hesitated, feeling torn. Diana had Jack and a midwife, but Imogen didn't have anyone. Then again, the baby was early, and the more hands on deck the better. She bit her lip, wondering why she was vacillating. When she'd worked in a war zone she'd had to make hard decisions all the time, but one little dark-haired child had her pragmatism deserting her.

Her phone beeped with a text.

She flicked it open:
need you now!

Her choice had been made for her. ‘Soon, Imogen. I'll be back soon.'

Imogen didn't reply.

‘Go now,' Helen mouthed as she put her hand out to Imogen. ‘Can you help me feed Buddy?'

Sophie heard Imogen's ‘Yes,' and then she turned and ran down the corridor, ducking out into the courtyard, punching in the gate's security code, hauling it open and then sprinting down the drive to the main section of the hospital.

She arrived in the labour ward panting as much as Diana.

As she opened the door she was greeted by an almighty grunting noise. ‘Pushing sounds already? You're doing great, Diana.'

The nurse's contraction finished and she sank back into the pillow with a wail. ‘I just want it over.'

Jack gave Diana's knee a squeeze. ‘Next contraction, I want less noise and more pushing.'

Diana's green eyes flashed. ‘I'm doing my best!'

‘Darling, listen to Jack, he knows what he's talking about.' Max gently wiped his wife's face with a damp cloth. ‘He's delivered on average about twenty babies a year for the last five years, and our baby is going to be baby one hundred.'

Jack looked stunned. ‘Really?'

Max laughed. ‘As CEO of the hospital, I know the stats, mate. Don't you keep count?'

‘Arrgghhh.' Diana leaned forward, gripping her knees, and pushed.

Out of habit, Sophie flicked off the taps with her elbow, dried her hands and pulled on some gloves before starting her check on the paediatric set-up. A baby four weeks early could come out screaming or totally flat, and she planned to be very ready.

Jenny, the midwife, bustled through the door with the delivery-pack, saw Sophie and smiled. ‘Thank goodness
you're here. Rachel Pemberton's just arrived in good labour so I'll deliver her and leave you here with Jack to receive the baby.' She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I can't remember the last time two babies were born in Barragong on the same day, and so close to Christmas.'

‘I caught sight of black hair that time, Diana.' Jack placed the Doppler on Diana's abdomen to check the foetal heart-rate.

Sophie heard what sounded like rapid horses' hooves and counted the beats. One hundred and five beats per minute. She bit her lip. One hundred and ten was better. She connected the tiny mask to the small air viva just in case the baby came out flat.

‘Drink. Need water.' Diana leaned back, exhaustion clear on her face.

Max bent a straw and held it to his wife's mouth.

Sophie walked over to Jack, who'd stood up for a moment to stretch his back, before the next contraction had him down on the floor again. She spoke quietly. ‘Anything I should know? Meconium staining of the amniotic fluid?'

He shook his head. ‘So far so good. If the foetal heart drops any lower I'll use forceps, but right now we can afford to wait a bit longer. You check the foetal heart during each contraction.'

‘Right. Will do.' Sophie hadn't delivered a baby since her days as a medical student and although she trusted Jack's experience and expertise, it didn't extinguish the buzz of adrenaline. Basically, they faced the unknown when this baby came out.

‘Jack!' Diana pulled up against her knees, dropped her head down and pushed.

Jack dropped to his knees. ‘Great work, Diana.'

‘Foetal heart, one hundred.'

Diana snapped out of her contraction trance. ‘That's too low.'

‘Stop being a midwife, Diana, and just be a labouring woman. It's normal for the FH to drop during a contraction.' Jack sounded reassuring and stern at the same time.

Sophie squeezed Diana's hand. ‘You know he's right.'

But Diana didn't answer as another contraction hit.

Five contractions later, the baby's head sat on the perineum. Jack frowned in concentration. ‘OK, Diana, this time you're going to have to pant when I say, so I can guide this little one's head out and avoid stitches.'

‘Need. To. Push.' A wild-eyed Diana grabbed Jack's shoulder.

‘Pant, honey, pant.' Max blew up short breaths, encouraging Diana to do the same.

Sophie checked the foetal heart: ninety-five. ‘Jack…'

He gave her a curt nod, having heard the slow rate and knowing this baby needed to be delivered now. He picked up the scissors. ‘Diana, push hard.'

Sophie sent up a wish that Diana could deliver with this contraction and avoid the episiotomy.

With an almighty grunt, Diana pushed. Jack's fingers guided the baby's head through the perineum and out into the world.

‘Well done, Diana.' Jack did a visual check for cord around the neck. ‘Next contraction, we'll have a baby.'

A moment later Jack guided out the top shoulder, followed by the bottom shoulder, and then a dusky baby's body emerged.

Jack quickly passed the baby up onto Diana's stomach. ‘Quick cuddle, Diana. Max, you cut the cord.'

The stunned father's hands shook as he launched his child into the world as a separate being.

‘Which C is it?' Sophie asked as she hovered with the wrap.

Diana and Max checked the baby's sex together. ‘Caitlyn.'

‘Congratulations. But I need to take her for a minute or two.'

Max handed her the baby and Sophie quickly put her on the resus cot. Caitlyn was limp and flaccid, and her chest wasn't moving.