Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘What book?’
‘The one I bought Tuesday morning, specifically written for expectant fathers.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Very informative and downright scary.’
They stopped and he guided her out.
She handed in the forms and her obligatory urine sample at Reception and were directed to an empty waiting room. Light classical music played softly in the background. Alina sat idly flipping the pages of a magazine. Ethan filled two plastic cups from an orange juice dispenser and offered one to her.
She accepted it with a noticeably shaky hand and his heart sank. He noticed her agitated finger movements, half hidden by the bag on her lap, finishing in a clenched fist. Hoping their appointment wasn’t delayed, he put his cup on the low table and wrapped steadying fingers around her hand.
‘Patricia Conlan has a very good reputation.’ He raised the hand clasping the cup to her lips. ‘Now, drink. Slowly.’
Alina obeyed, emptying the cup. He drained his, took both cups to a bin, then returned to sit beside her, studying a poster on the wall opposite.
She kept her eyes downcast, wishing she had his self-discipline. He’d been predictably shaken by her initial bombshell, and angry a few times during subsequent conversations, but he’d rapidly recovered his composure every time. She, on the other hand, had trouble keeping any control over her emotions.
She glanced sideways, surprised to find him looking more nervous than he’d let on. The long supple fingers of his right hand thrummed on his thigh, and she recalled them spanning her stomach. The image of them sensuously exploring her body flashed into her brain, and she couldn’t stifle a throaty gasp.
He jerked round. ‘Alina, are you all right?’
‘Alina Fletcher?’
She jumped up, willing her burning cheeks to cool, grateful for the interruption from the uniformed woman in the doorway.
They were ushered into the consulting room.
‘Dr Conlan will be with you in... Ah, here she is.’
‘Alina, Ethan. It’s nice to meet you.’ The fortyish woman with slightly mussed brown hair and bright blue eyes clasped her hands, then Ethan’s, in genuine welcome.
‘Let’s sit down and get acquainted.’ She emanated compassion and invited trust.
‘Thank you, Dr Conlan.’ Alina took a seat, placing her handbag on the floor as a folder was opened and perused. Even Ethan’s reassurance couldn’t dispel her feeling of foreboding at the thought of queries about her past. An occasional note was written, an occasional ‘hmm’ mouthed.
She noticed a slight resemblance to her husband’s Aunt Jean, triggering a pang of guilt. She’d only kept in token touch with everyone, had avoided personal contact. In a few weeks she’d have to notify them that she was living in Sydney. Remarried. Having another baby. The latter when Ethan decided to make the announcement.
Sneaking a peek at him, she met genuine concern. Whatever he saw caused him to take her hand, link their fingers and squeeze. He had no idea how calming those slight actions were.
Dr Conlan laid down her pen and glasses, placed her elbows on her desk and linked her fingers. She smiled sympathetically.
‘I appreciate this must revive painful memories for you, Alina, and I sincerely hope your new baby brings you happiness.’
Ethan squeezed her hand again.
‘The sample you brought in officially confirms your pregnancy. If you’d like to go into the examination area, I’ll be in shortly. We’ll talk after.’
Alina went to the open doorway indicated. The faint murmur of voices drifted in as she prepared and lay down on the examining table. She stared at the ceiling, silently chanting her mantra.
NICE AS THE doctor was, Alina felt relieved as they left. A referral for an ultrasound and an appointment card were in her handbag. Ethan held the door open, his free hand clasping the pamphlets they’d been given.
She’d seen his surreptitious peek at his watch in the elevator. Catching his arm she stopped them both. ‘You need to get back to the office, don’t you?’
‘There’s always work to be done. We can—’
‘Hail a taxi and I’ll drop you off. The sooner you get back, the less chance of staying late.’ And she’d have some quiet contemplation time to mull over the doctor’s advice, read those pamphlets, and fully accept the path she’d chosen.
His cobalt eyes gleamed with gratitude. His fingers rested gently on her cheek for a moment. ‘Spoken like a true corporate wife.’ He looked round. ‘There’s a snack bar over there. I’ll grab a sandwich to eat at my desk.’
He made one call during the taxi ride to his office, booking the ultrasound for Monday the twenty-first of April at ten. She wrote the date and time in her notebook as he repeated them for confirmation, realising it was the day after the wedding. When she would be recorded as his wife.
Ethan sensed a change in her. Was she too beginning to realise the enormity of their agreement, so simple in words, so complex and mind-boggling in reality? In front of the doctor he’d claimed to be the father of her child. He’d said ‘our baby’, ‘our child’ so easily. Now he had to fulfil the promises he’d made to Alina and his sister’s memory.
His pragmatic nature demanded everything be put in place quickly, privately. Nothing left to chance, no hesitation that might give anyone cause to believe he doubted his paternity. Even before she’d agreed he’d set up appointments without considering the effect on her. Even after learning of her loss he hadn’t deviated from his plan.
He hadn’t allowed for the reality—hadn’t understood the impact it would have on them both.
He reached for her hand, breathed in her sweet fragrance. She didn’t react; lost in a world he had no right to access.
The taxi was nearing his office. He tilted her chin, took in her subdued expression and almost told the driver to keep going. What could he say or do? Nothing until she was ready to confide in him. A quick kiss on her forehead produced little response. He had no right or reason to be disappointed. Only a week ago he’d walked out on her.
* * *
Alina’s head was inside the kitchen island cupboard when the intercom buzzed at about eleven the next morning. She’d just managed to reach the small can in the back corner and jerked at the sound, banging her head.
She walked over to the front door. Hesitated. Ethan hadn’t mentioned anyone coming. Would he want her to answer? Another buzz. She pressed.
‘Hello.’
‘Good morning. Is Ethan at home?’
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted at the high-pitched, cultured voice. Her mouth dried. She swallowed twice, rubbed her neck. Finally managed a croaky reply. ‘No, I’m sorry, he’s not.’
‘I’m Sophia James. May I come up?’
His mother—judgemental to the nth degree. Far worse than the ex-girlfriend she’d suspected. Should she let her in? What would she do if Alina refused her entry?
‘Hello? Are you still there?’ Slightly peeved.
‘Please come up.’ Denial only delayed the inevitable. In three weeks Sophia would be her mother-in-law. For a short time anyway.
She raced to her bedroom to check her appearance. After brushing her already neat hair she went slowly back, taking long lung-filling breaths. Waited, slowly counted to nine after the bell rang before opening the door.
Sophia James