What she was sure of was she didn’t want to feel alone anymore. She wanted someone to lean on. Be near a person who had a connection to Joshua. Hear a story or two that she could tell her son or daughter about their father. Joshua and Ryan had been brothers in arms. Been there for each other. Joshua had assured her in his last letter seven months ago that if she needed anything, anything, Ryan was the person to find. Desperate, she was going to his house to see if that was true.
Phoebe located the house number. It was painted above the door in black against the white frame of the Victorian house. The car traveling down the street drew her attention for a second. She pulled the paper out and looked at the address again, then at the entrance once more. Studying the steps to the door, she hesitated. Now she was stalling.
What was she going to say to this guy?
She’d been rehearsing her speech for days and still didn’t know if she could get it out. On the tram coming across town she’d practiced again but couldn’t seem to get it right. Everything she’d planned made her sound crazy. Maybe she was. But she had to say something, give some explanation as to why she’d turned up on his doorstep.
Hi, I’m Phoebe Taylor. You were a friend of my husband’s. He said if I ever needed anything to come see you. So here I am.
That should get his attention. She placed a hand on her protruding middle and chuckled dryly. His first thought will probably be I’m here to accuse him of being the father.
The wind gusted again as she mounted the steps. There were no potted plants lining them, like most of the other houses. Holding the handrail, she all but pulled her way up to the stoop. Could she get any bigger? Her midwife Sophia had assured her she could, and would.
After catching her breath, Phoebe knocked on the door. She waited. Thankfully, the small alcove afforded her some shelter from the wind.
When there was no answer, she rapped again. Seconds went by and still no one came. She refused to go back home without speaking to Ryan. It had taken her months to muster the courage to come in the first place. It was getting late, surely he’d be home soon.
To the right side of the door was a small wooden bench. She’d just wait for a while to see if he showed up. Bracing a hand against the wall, she eased herself down. She chuckled humorously at the picture she must make. Like a beach ball sitting on top of a flowerpot.
She needed to rest anyway. Everything fatigued her these days. Trying to keep up with twenty grade fivers wore her out but she loved her job. At least her students kept her mind off the fact that she was having a baby soon. Alone.
Phoebe never made a habit of feeling sorry for herself, had prided herself on being strong, facing life head-on. She’d always managed to sound encouraging and supportive when Joshua had prepared to leave on tour again and again. When they’d married, she’d been aware of what she was getting into. So why was the idea of having this baby alone making her come emotionally undone?
Pulling her coat tighter and leaning her head into the corner of the veranda, she closed her eyes. She’d just rest a few minutes.
It was just after dark when Ryan Matthews pulled his sporty compact car into his usual parking spot along the street. It had been drizzling during his entire drive from the hospital. Street lamps lit the area. The trees cast shadows along the sidewalk and even across the steps leading to homes.
He’d had a long day that had involved more than one baby delivery and one of those a tough one. Nothing had seemed to go as planned. Not one but two of the babies had been breech. Regardless, the babies had joined the world kicking and screaming. He was grateful. All the other difficulties seemed to disappear the second he heard a healthy cry. He’d take welcoming a life over dealing with death any day.
Stepping out of the car, he reached behind the driver’s seat and grabbed his duffel bag stuffed with his street clothes. Too exhausted to change, he still wore his hospital uniform. As much as he loved his job, thirty-six hours straight was plenty. He was looking forward to a hot shower, bed and the next day off. It would be his first chance in over two weeks to spend time in his workshop. A half-finished chair, along with a table he’d promised to repair for a friend, waited. He wanted to think of nothing and just enjoy the process of creating something with his hands.
Duffel in hand, a wad of dirty uniforms under his arm, he climbed the steps. The light remained on over his door as he’d left it. Halfway up the steps he halted. There was an obviously pregnant woman asleep on his porch. He saw pregnant women regularly in his job as a midwife at Melbourne Victoria Hospital’s maternity unit. Today more than he’d wanted to. As if he didn’t have a full load at the hospital, they were now showing up on his doorstep.
By the blue tint of the woman’s lips and the way she was huddled into a ball, she’d been there for some time. Why was she out in the cold? She should be taking better care of herself, especially at this stage in her pregnancy. Her arms rested on her protruding middle. She wore a fashionable knit cap that covered the top of her head. Strawberry-blond hair twisted around her face and across her shoulders. With the rain and the temperature dropping, she must be uncomfortable.
Taking a resigned breath, Ryan moved farther up the steps. As he reached the top the mysterious woman roused and her eyes popped open. They were large and a dark sable brown with flecks of gold. He’d never seen more mesmerizing or sad ones in his life.
His first instinct was to protect her. He faltered. That wasn’t a feeling he experienced often. He made it his practice not to become involved with anyone. Not to care too deeply. He tamped the feeling down. Being tired was all there was to it. “Can I help you?”
The woman slowly straightened. She tugged the not-heavy-enough-for-the-weather coat closer as she stared at him.
When she didn’t answer right away he asked in a weary voice, “Do you need help?”
“Are you Ryan Matthews?” Her soft Aussie accent carried in the evening air.
His eyes widened and he stepped back half a pace, stopping before tumbling. Did he know her? She was such a tiny thing she couldn’t be more than a girl. Something about her looked familiar. Could he have seen her in the waiting room sometime?
Ryan glanced at her middle again. He’d always made it a practice to use birth control. Plus, this female was far too young for him. She must be seeking medical help.
“Yes.”
“I’m Phoebe Taylor.”
Was that supposed to mean something to him? He squinted, studying her face in the dim light. “Have we met before?”
“I should go.” She reached out to touch the wall as if she planned to use it as support in order to stand. When she did, a slip of paper fluttered to the stoop.
Ryan picked it up. In blue pen was written his name, address and phone number. Had she been given it at the clinic?
He glared at her. “Where did you get this?”
“I think I had better go.” She made a movement toward the steps. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know for sure what I wanted. I need to go.” Her words came out high-pitched and shaky.
He put out a hand as if she were a skittish animal he was trying to reassure. “Think of the baby.” That must be what this was all about.
Her eyes widened, taking on a hysterical look. She jerked away from him. “I’ve done nothing but think of this baby. I have to go. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come.” She sniffled. “I don’t know …” another louder sniffle “… what I was thinking. You don’t know me.” Her head went into her hands and she started to cry in earnest. “I’ll go. This is …” she sucked in air “… too