The Baby Swap Miracle (6 page)

CHAPTER THREE

I
T WAS
a mess, of course—overgrown, with climbers hanging off the walls and the old gravelled paths swamped with weeds and grass, but under the chaos she could see it had once been beautiful.

Old shrub roses in the wide borders were smothered in buds, and she could see some already starting to open. There was a lilac on the point of bursting, and amongst the weeds, perennials were struggling towards the sun.

She closed her eyes and let her other senses take over. The low hum of bees, the growl of a tractor in the distance, a dog barking, the pure, sweet song of a blackbird. Somewhere fairly close, a cockerel crowed. Sam’s? Probably. She’d heard one this morning at some ungodly hour.

Her eyes still closed, she breathed in deeply through her nose and caught the scent of new-mown grass and the heady sweetness of a spring-flowering viburnum. And it was warm—so much warmer than outside, the sheltering embrace of the walls making a micro-climate where tender plants would thrive.

All it needed was some loving care.

‘It’s lovely,’ she sighed wistfully, looking around again and trying to take it all in. ‘A real secret garden.’

‘Exactly—it’s a mess,’ he said with a wry laugh, but she shook her head.

‘It’s full of treasures, Sam. Some of these roses are ancient, and they just need careful pruning and a bit of a feed, and they’ll be wonderful again.’

‘But it all takes time and I’ve been concentrating on the house. It seemed fairly important as the roof was falling in.’

‘Oops.’ She smiled and met his eyes, wondering yet again if their baby would inherit them. Beautiful, beautiful eyes… ‘Emily said you were a bit mad buying it,’ she said, bringing her mind back to order, and his mouth twitched.

‘Did she?’ He looked around, taking in the faded beauty of the house and garden—not nearly so bad if you half closed your eyes so it went into soft focus. ‘She’s probably right,’ he admitted slowly, ‘but I love it here. I bought it at auction. I was trawling the net, looking at property, feeling restless—it wasn’t a good time in my life and I just wanted—well, whatever, I saw it, and it was being auctioned that day, so I got in the car and drove out here and had a quick walk through the ground floor and the outside of the house and bid for it.’

‘And you got it?’

He knew his smile would be wry. ‘There was a bit of a tussle.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ she said with a little chuckle. ‘It’s gorgeous. So—you didn’t have a survey first?’

‘No. No time. Literally. I had ten minutes to decide if I was going to bid or not, but they say you make up your mind about a house in the first eleven seconds or some such ridiculous thing. It didn’t even take me that long. I’d decided before I set foot in the house, after I stuck my head in here on the way round. That was enough to convince
me. And there was dry rot in the roof, and the bedrooms underneath were trashed because the weather had been coming in, and it was a mess. But that was fine. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted by throwing money and a lot of effort at it, so that’s what I’ve been doing. There’s a cottage that was sort of habitable, and I lived in that and started getting the house sorted out, bit by bit, and then once the kitchen was useable and I had a bathroom and a couple of bedrooms and somewhere to sit in the evening by a fire, I moved in here and started work on the cottage.’

‘On the
cottage
?’ she said, puzzled that he hadn’t finished off the house first. They were strolling along the paths between the beds, and she could see the structure of the garden, the little lavender hedges that had escaped and run wild…

‘I needed guest accommodation, but it’ll make a lovely holiday cottage eventually, so I’ve been fixing it up, but it’s just about done and then I need to turn my attention back to the house. There’s still loads that needs doing, but it’ll take a while.’

She looked up at the house and blanched at the thought of the maintenance and repair bills—never mind a major renovation.

‘The cost must be horrendous. Do you have a really good job or are you just naturally wealthy?’

He gave a hollow, slightly cynical laugh. ‘No, I’m not naturally wealthy, but I’ve worked hard. I used to buy and sell companies. I kept a few and I’ve got a steady income, but to be honest I’ve lost interest in that way of life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be and I can’t be bothered to chase it any more.’

‘So you threw everything you had at this place and ran away to the country?’

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, for some reason.
‘Pretty much. Not quite everything, but I’ve stepped back from the front line, as it were, and I’m taking time out and fixing the house. That’s a task and a half, but I’m enjoying the challenge. I know every nook and cranny of the house now, and it’s becoming part of me. It’s damned hard work, but you know the saying, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And I’m only doing what I can. There’s a specialist team waiting to come in once the planners are happy.’

Well, of course there was. It was a huge task, even her inexperienced eyes could see that, and there was no way one man could do it alone.

He paused at the gate. ‘Want to meet the chickens?’

She laughed softly, and he felt his guts curl at the musical sound. Crazy. She was pregnant! How could he want her like this?

Because it’s your baby? Or just because she’s beautiful?

‘Do they need meeting?’ And then, when he stared at her blankly, she added, ‘The chickens?’

He gave her a smile that was probably a little off kilter. ‘You might be less resentful when they wake you up at stupid o’clock.’

‘You could have a point.’ She chuckled again, and yet again his guts curled up and whimpered.

‘Come on, Daisy,’ he said, slapping his leg and trying not to think about Emelia.

‘So—why chickens?’ she asked as they walked. ‘Isn’t it easier to buy eggs from the shops?’

Sam laughed. ‘Much, especially since they hardly ever lay anything, but I inherited them with the house and in a moment of weakness I gave them names so I guess they’re with me till the fox gets them or they fall off their perches,’ he admitted ruefully, making her smile so that
her nose crinkled in a scarily sexy way that just took his breath away.

She felt her smile waver as he frowned at her for some reason. Or at himself for his sentimentality? She wasn’t sure.

‘Come on, we’ll go and introduce you,’ he said, and abruptly led the way to the kitchen garden. It was separate from the house, the empty beds arranged in a grid pattern between the gravel paths.

‘I want to have a go at growing vegetables again this year,’ he told her. ‘I know it sounds like a load of old romantic nonsense, but I love it. It’s just a case of time, though—and I don’t have enough,’ he said honestly.

She watched the chickens happily scratching in the beds, and hoped the vegetables and eggs weren’t a significant contribution to the household budget. The veg didn’t stand a chance and it would take a heck of a lot of eggs to pay the builders.

She looked back at the house thoughtfully. ‘It must have been amazing in its hey-day,’ she said softly, and he nodded, his expression gentling as he looked up at it.

‘Yes. And I want to bring it back to life. I’ve got so many plans for it, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day and everything seems to take twice as long as you think, but one day I’ll get there and it’ll be a fantastic home again.’ There was a tension in him, a kind of pent-up excitement in his eyes that reminded her of James. He’d been like this—full of wild plans and crazy schemes. They’d been going to do so much, had so many plans, all now turned to dust.

And as Sam finished speaking, she saw the light go out of his eyes before he turned away, and she wondered what had happened to send him into retreat. Because that was
what he was doing—pulling up the drawbridge, going into some kind of bucolic trance.

It wasn’t a good time in my life.

He walked on, and after a moment she followed him. Emily had hinted at something in his past, but she hadn’t given away any secrets. Secrets there were, though, of that Emelia was sure, and she found herself reassessing her opinion of him.

He’d always seemed so confident, so assured, so grounded on their previous meetings. And maybe he was, but it was as if some thread in his life had snapped and left him changed from the man he’d been.

I’ve lost interest in that way of life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

What had happened? He seemed—maybe not lonely, exactly, but there was a sense of isolation that didn’t quite gel, as if he was building this wonderful family home and knew there would only ever be him in it.

It’s nothing to do with you, she told herself firmly, and followed him as he left the kitchen garden and took her on a guided tour of the rest of the house.

It was beautiful, but there was much still left to do, and as he talked about it, telling her his plans, she felt a twinge of regret that she would never be part of them, never share his dream, and from the way he was talking, neither would anyone else. He never said ‘we’, only ‘I’ or ‘me’. A loner, for whatever reason. But maybe their child would be the one to share it with him, would bring warmth and joy into his life and make him happy again.

And as for her…

He’d offered her his friendship. That was all. Grudgingly. No, not grudgingly, but reluctantly. His friendship and a safe place to stay until she’d sorted out her options. And
building pipe dreams about some rosy future with him, even for a second, was completely and utterly ridiculous…

‘I ought to make a few phone calls, work out what I’m going to do, where I’m going to go,’ she said pensively.

They were back at the kitchen table, and Sam felt himself frown. One minute she’d been talking about finding work locally, the next she was talking about leaving. He frankly wasn’t sure which was worse—staying, probably, and he was beginning to think that was a generally thoroughly lousy idea. But he’d offered, so he’d thought he’d just have to shut up and cope with it. But now—now she was talking about leaving, and he suddenly felt uneasy that she might settle miles away and he’d lose sight of the baby.

That was worse. Definitely. But only because of the baby. That was all he was worried about, he told himself firmly. Well, not quite all, if he was going to be brutally honest, but it was only the baby he’d allow himself to care about.

‘Why don’t you go down into the village and find the primary school and talk to them about the possibility of doing some supply teaching?’ he said, hoping there would be something that would keep her and the baby close, because otherwise his life would get even more complicated. ‘They might need someone for the odd day, and maybe you could earn enough to tide you over till the compensation comes through.’

‘It’s an idea,’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe I could find a little cottage or something to rent close by, just until after the baby’s born. It would give us a chance to get to know each other, and if we’re going to share this baby in any meaningful way—not that I know if we are, but
if
we are—then we ought to know each other, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ he said, wondering if knowing her better would make it easier or just a damn sight harder. ‘And we are.’

‘We are?’

‘Going to be sharing the baby in a meaningful way. I meant what I said. I don’t walk away from commitment.’

‘But you didn’t want this, Sam. It was never part of the plan for you to have a child—not like this.’

He sighed softly. ‘Neither of us wanted this, Emelia, but it’s happening and we have to find a way to deal with it. And I think you living close by is a good idea, at least until after the baby’s born. So—sure, go down to the primary school and have a chat to them, and maybe they’ll have something for you, and then we’ll start to think about where you should live.’

She nodded and got slowly to her feet. ‘Do you know where it is?’

‘Out of the gates, turn left and go down to the village. It’s got road signs and things. You can’t miss it.’

They didn’t have anything.

The head was lovely and very welcoming, but they had no need for a supply teacher at the moment.

‘I’ll take your number, but I don’t expect there will be anything,’ she warned.

Defeated at the first hurdle, Emelia drove back to the house, realising as she did so just what a huge and sprawling place it was. Not the house. The house was quite neat and tidy, really, although only someone truly overindulged would describe it as small in any way, but the grounds and other buildings that went with it must be a constant drain on his resources, and not just financial.

And he was doing a lot of the work himself.

She admired him for that. He was clearly successful, and yet he’d turned his back on the high-flying world of
big-city finance and was concentrating on a dream. She could see him now, driving the little lawn tractor, and she pulled over and waited for him as he changed direction and headed towards her.

‘Hi. How did you get on?’ he asked, cutting the engine and propping his arms on the steering wheel so he could see her through the car window.

‘OK. She was very nice—but they haven’t got anything at the moment.’

‘Anything in the pipeline?’

She shook her head, wishing she could give him some other news, because he was right, they needed to be near each other to sort out their relationship. If you could call it that. She supposed it was.

‘I tell you what, I’m nearly done. Why don’t you go and put the kettle on and I’ll be there in a minute or two. We can talk about it over a cup of tea. The back door’s unlocked.’

She nodded, went back to the house and gave Daisy a hug, then put the kettle on and waited. True to his word—something she was beginning to realise was typical of Sam Hunter—he was there in a very few minutes, by which time she’d discovered she couldn’t find anything in his kitchen.

‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked.

‘Coffee, please, if there’s a choice. I was going to make it but I couldn’t find it, only decaf tea.’