The Most Magical Gift of All (15 page)

His eyebrows rose. ‘You've taken her to and from kinder, reminded her to clean her teeth and made her an emu costume.'

‘That's childcare, not mothering. It comes under the “responsible adult” banner you wave all the time.'

Incredulity rolled across his handsome face. ‘It's been so much more than that. You've cuddled up with her in bed, read her stories and splashed and laughed with her in the pool. I've watched you unwind around her, seen you enjoy her—and the other night when she refused to eat dinner you were the one that kept your cool, not me.' His hand rested gently on her shoulder. ‘Let the past go, Soph, and trust yourself that you can do this. You're not a teenager any more, you're a mature woman, and it's time you accepted you're a good mother.'

His words rained down on her, terrifying her. She didn't dare believe him, didn't dare consider staying, because if he was wrong—and she was sure he was—she'd hurt both Imogen and Jack even more than if she left now. ‘I don't want this, Jack. I want my freedom.'

‘Freedom?' He snorted. ‘You don't have freedom, Sophie, you're too busy running to be free. What are you going to do—spend your life going from war zone to war zone until you fall in a heap? You deserve better than that. You aren't living your life, you're running from it, and it's time to stop. This so-called freedom you believe in is just fear.'

Everything inside her stilled. Like the knife that had pared into her palm and sliced down to her tendon, he'd just sliced through every protective layer she'd ever wrapped around herself and exposed the truth. The truth that held all her worst fears. Fear that she would hurt who she loved—hurt an innocent child. Fear she couldn't be the woman Jack wanted as the mother of his children.

Pain lacerated her and she knew she had to do the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life—make him not want her to stay at all.

‘I'm not one of your projects, Jack, and I don't need saving.'

Jack heard a brittle hardness in Sophie's voice he'd never encountered. It ate at the edges of his belief that he was right, and that with some encouragement she would realise that being with him and Imogen was what she wanted most in the world. ‘I think you need Im and I in your life.'

She tossed her head, her eyes flashing. ‘You think wrong. This is your problem, Jack. It's your over-developed sense of duty getting in the way of what you really want. Yes, Imogen needs a family, but it's not your job to marry me and provide it. Think about it, Jack—if you marry me and adopt Imogen, it's a repeat scenario of what made you so unhappy when your father died. You came back here earlier than you wanted to and married Mary because you thought the doctor in town should be settled. It's made you resentful, and you need to take your trip, because if you don't you'll end up resenting Imogen.'

‘You're right about my marriage but you're way off the mark with Imogen.' A slow, burning anger curled through his belly like a snake as incredulity rocked him. She didn't get it; she had no clue. ‘I can't believe you're suggesting I leave Imogen for three months.'

Her arms folded tightly across her chest. ‘I'm trying to get you to see sense.'

He threw his arm out towards the house. ‘There's a little girl in there who's been abandoned by her mother and she needs all the stability I can give her.'

For less than a second her gaze wavered and then she tilted her chin. ‘And your mother will provide that while you're away.'

He stared at her, wondering if he really knew her
at all—if yesterday he'd misread the love and care in her eyes for him and Imogen. ‘Oh, right—I take a selfish holiday and destroy the fledgling trust I've started to build up with her, and instead instil such a level of anxiety that she spends the next five years waiting for me to leave. Won't that make adolescence fun?'

She didn't say a word, and his conviction that she loved him and Imogen was snuffed out like a flame starved of oxygen. Memories of Mary hovered—arms crossed and ultimatums issued.

A woman who loves you will stay.

Sophie had spoken those words to him yesterday morning.

Nothing about her body language hinted at her staying, and the reality of the situation fell irreparably into place. ‘You're going to turn your back on Imogen and I and leave, aren't you?'

She bit her lip, her face pale under her freckles. ‘It's better that I go now. Better for you and Imogen.'

His heart ripped in half and he gripped the railing so hard he thought he'd crush it. ‘How do you figure that?'

‘You'll hate me less for it now than later.'

Her words crushed him. ‘That's the only thing you've said that makes any sense.' Then, unable to stop it, he felt his lip curl, he gave into anger and let hurt have full rein. ‘But I was forgetting you're an expert at this, having already left Simon for the same reason.'

She recoiled as if he'd slapped her across the cheek.

He thought he heard her mumble, ‘I didn't love him,' but he realised that was just his own desperate imagination.

When she finally spoke, her words were loud and clear and her face distant and determined. ‘I've
never pretended to you that I wanted a family or a relationship.'

‘That's because you're too busy pretending you don't.'

‘I'm sorry, Jack.' It came out as a plea.

But he didn't want to stay and listen to nonsensical platitudes, and no way in hell was he offering her absolution. ‘Move your stuff into the Barragong Motel and book yourself on the Boxing Day bus. Your last day of duty is Christmas Day.'

She didn't even flinch at the date he'd deliberately chosen to hurt her with as he tried to offset his own pain which ran so deep.

‘What will you tell Imogen—?'

Her voice cracked on the little girl's name but he had no sympathy for her. She'd made her choice abundantly clear. He glared at her, so angry and so bereft that he wanted to sob, but with Herculean effort he held it together. ‘What I tell her is none of your concern. Your leaving forfeits that right.'

He heard her shocked gasp but he didn't wait for a reply. Wrenching open the door, he strode to Imogen's room. Standing quietly in the doorway he watched his daughter sleep, seeking refuge in the one constant that made sense in his life when all his hopes and dreams had turned to ash.

 

‘Diana's champing at the bit to be discharged.' Jenny, the straight-talking midwife, greeted Sophie as she arrived on to the ward. ‘I rang Jack thinking he might come in and do it this morning, because I know you've been flat out, but he says he's not working and you're it. You look like hell, by the way.'

Sophie tried to smile and act like everything was
as normal as it had been last week, even though absolutely nothing came close to resembling normal. ‘It's Christmas Eve; Jack's minding Imogen and he's probably busy preparing for tonight's carol service.'

Jenny frowned. ‘That accounts for today, but what about the last forty-eight hours? You two have shared the clinic and hospital patients for the last three weeks and juggled Imogen between you, so why change now?'

Because I hurt him; because he hates me.
‘Jack's technically on holidays, and I'm the one supposed to be working.' Sophie grabbed Diana's chart out of the midwife's hands. ‘I better go and see her before she checks herself out.'

She hurried down the corridor, desperate to escape Jenny's questions. She knew she looked like death warmed up but there wasn't much she could do about that, seeing as she hadn't slept in three nights. The motel wasn't anything stunning, but even if she'd been in a five-star international hotel she still wouldn't have been able to sleep.

Why was doing the right thing so hard? She loved Jack but she had to leave him, because she'd only let him down when she made a hash of motherhood, and then it would all end in acrimony. She would have done anything to leave town two days ago but she had a contract to honour, even though Jack was cutting it off early. He'd played hardball, insisting she stay until Boxing Day, but she knew he'd done that for Imogen because he didn't want to be on call until his mother was home.

Will you come back?
She tried to stop the agitated feeling that thudded through her whenever she thought of Imogen. For the umpteenth time she told herself that she was the adult and by leaving now she was protecting the child. Besides, it had only been three short weeks, and
it was unlikely that Imogen would have really become attached to her. Jack was her main carer and when anything went wrong it was Jack who Imogen wanted.

But her heart kept disagreeing with her head, sending nausea swilling through her gut.
You've let her down badly.
She entered Diana's room and her feet stopped as if glued to the floor. Baby Caitlyn was snuggled at her mother's breast, gulping in milk, and Diana gazed down at her daughter, cocooning her in love.

A pain lanced Sophie so sharply, she almost doubled over.
You could have had this.

I'd ruin it.

‘How are mother and daughter doing?'

Diana glanced up with a smile, which wavered before creasing into a slight frown. ‘Better than you, by the looks of it. Has A&E gone troppo?'

‘Sorry I didn't make it before lunch.' Sophie stroked the baby's head. ‘How's she been feeding?'

‘She's doing so well for a thirty-six weeker that I'm thinking perhaps my dates were wrong.'

‘She's certainly more awake than the average prem baby, and she's gained weight, which is what we like to see. My only concern is her slight jaundice, so keep an eye on that, and if she does get sleepy bring her in.'

Diana nodded her understanding. ‘I'll let the early-morning sunshine come in for some natural phototherapy.'

‘Good idea.' Sophie smiled. ‘Do you have any questions before I officially discharge you?'

Diana eased the now-sleeping Caitlyn off the breast. ‘Can you hold her for a minute?'

Sophie hesitated. She'd prefer not to have anything to do with children at the moment.

‘You won't break her.' Diana held her daughter out towards her, her gaze disconcertingly direct.

Sophie's arms started to throb with an ache very familiar to most women, an ache dating back to the dawn of time. She slid them around the swaddled baby and breathed in the fresh, baby scent—but instead of the sweet, milky aroma she could suddenly smell apples and freshly washed hair so strongly it was as if both were in the room with her. The memory of the scent of Imogen's shampoo, the sight of tangled, wet curls, and the touch of a warm, slippery body as she threw herself into the fluffy towel that Sophie always held up, thundered through her. Tears pricked her eyes and her heart bled.
I did the right thing, though, didn't I?

Diana adjusted her feeding bra and buttoned up her blouse. ‘I go through almost as many clothes as Caitie does.'

Sophie tried to smile but her mouth refused to curve upwards. ‘How are you finding it?'

‘It?' Diana looked perplexed.

‘Motherhood.'

‘It's only day five, but we're learning together. I think that's what being a mother is all about, or at least that's what my mother tells me. Often you're only one step ahead of the kid, and sometimes you're a step behind.'

Sophie knew exactly what she meant. She'd always felt a giant step behind with Minty, and a few steps with Imogen, although just lately she'd had moments of being ahead. ‘Doesn't that scare you? I mean, what if you make a mistake?'

The new mother pondered the question. ‘I don't think I'm scared. A bit nervous, perhaps.' She gave a wry laugh. ‘I know I'll probably make a heap of mistakes, because that goes with the territory, but I'll be doing my
absolute best and that's all I can do.' She smiled serenely. ‘I've got Max to balance off against, so you've got to hope one of us will have our act together if the other one is floundering.'

We'll make great parents.
She pushed away Jack's beguiling voice. She knew the truth about herself even if he refused to recognise it.

Diana eyes studied Sophie's face. ‘What's going on, Sophie? Max says Jack looks as drawn as you do.'

She handed Caitlyn back. ‘It's the heat.'

‘It's way more than the heat.' Diana's hand touched her arm. ‘I don't understand. I've seen the way the two of you have been looking at each other since you arrived. Everyone in town's talking about how good you are together, and how great you both are with Imogen.'

‘Jack's the one who's great with Imogen. Unlike me, he's a natural with children.' Sophie stood up and pulled out her stethoscope. ‘Let's examine this little one so you can take her home.'

Diana unwrapped the baby from the bunny rug. ‘Jack does have an unnatural amount of patience. We've all tried to hate him for it, especially when we get annoyed and snap when some kid has pushed us to the end of our rope. But he's no saint, Sophie, and he does crack sometimes.'

You were the one that kept your cool, not me.
She thought back to the dinner when Imogen had refused to eat her vegetables. They'd all been hot and tired, and she'd had to fight so hard against yelling and falling apart. But it was Jack who'd got cross. She'd been the one to compromise with Imogen, trading off carrots and capsicum against the refused broccoli.

But so many other times she'd floundered, not really knowing if she was doing the right thing or not—mostly
listening to her gut and always second guessing her decisions. Was that what being a mother was all about—instinct, not science?

She rolled her shoulders back. She was a doctor who dealt with facts; she might not know how to be a mother but she knew exactly how to be a doctor. Shoving the stethoscope into her ears, she listened to Caitlyn's heart and checked her reflexes, her hips and spine before putting the nappy back on.