‘Craig, she’s so beautiful! So very, very beautiful!’
At the obvious awe in her voice, he felt a stab of rage; having seen the child, she would find its death that much harder to bear. Taylor seemed totally unaware of what was bound to happen.
‘Oh, darling! She’s only nine inches long but wait till you see her! She’s perfect! She even cried all by herself! Not many babies that early can!’ Taylor’s voice was as bright with pride as her eyes were with tears and Craig had to swallow hard before speaking.
‘I know, honey,’ he said. ‘But how are you feeling? That’s what I want to know.’
‘I’m great!’ she responded, ashen face and sunken cheeks refuting her words. ‘But don’t worry about that! Go and see your daughter!’
‘I will. Later. Right—’
‘No, Craig, now! She’s being transferred to one of the larger hospitals. One with better facilities.’
‘Okay, I’ll go,’ he said, wanting to pacify her. ‘But I’ll be back here quick smart, so don’t go anywhere!’ he teased, brushing his hand gently along her cheek.
Taylor smiled and shook her head. ‘They want to baptize her here before she’s moved...I’d like to call her Melanie Brooke. Is that all right with you?’
He nodded. ‘Sure, honey. Melanie Brooke is fine,’ he replied, feeling he was making promises he couldn’t keep.
Taylor received daily videos of her daughter from the hospital the child was transferred to, right up until she was discharged a week later with the proviso she take things extremely slowly. Despite the doctors’ warnings, she insisted on spending eighteen-hour days with her daughter, ignoring Craig’s pleas for her to get some rest, to spend more time at home, more time with him. Taylor obsessively followed her own agenda. So it was a pleasant surprise when one Saturday, while he was going over some work he’d brought home, she walked into the study in the middle of the afternoon.
‘You’re home early.’
She slumped wearily onto the sofa. ‘I’m going back later.’
Craig crouched before her, stroking her hair and her pale, fatigue-etched face. ‘I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you rest for a couple of hours, then we can go out for a romantic dinner, followed by dancing and—?’
Recoiling from his touch, she shrieked, ‘Dancing! My daughter stopped breathing today and you expect me to go dancing?’
‘Taylor! I had no idea...I’m sorry!’
She leaped to her feet, rage energizing her. ‘Sorry! Sorry! Craig, you’re probably only sorry that they revived her!’
‘Honey, that’s not true!’
‘Good!’ she screeched through her tears. ‘Because Melanie isn’t going to die! She’s tough! Like me! She’s not a quitter like her father! She won’t die! I won’t let her. I tell her that every day....’
‘Tay, honey, you have to be prepared for the worst.’ He reached for her, but she jumped away as if fearing contamination.
‘You’re a quitter, Craig Adams! I hate you!’ She was beyond reasoning with. ‘You never wanted a baby and the first time you saw this one you decided she was too small and too weak to survive, and that suited you! Well, she will survive! You hear me? She will!’
The strain between them from that point on became unbearable and Craig felt her drifting farther and farther away from him. In an effort to hang on to some semblance of the life they’d once shared, he threw himself into their business with maniacal ferocity. He even tried to establish a deal with the biggest staffing agency in Japan as he and Taylor had once wistfully discussed doing. But Taylor wasn’t interested in talking about it, about anything. She rarely even mentioned the baby to him, and when she did, it was always ‘my daughter, my Melanie’.
The final most bitter blow came when he arrived back from a three-day trip to Tokyo, which Taylor had insisted he take despite his reluctance to leave her. He’d walked into a silent house to discover an envelope with his name on it. Its handwritten contents read:
Dear Craig,
The doctors have said Melanie is well enough to leave hospital now so I’m taking my daughter home. Since you always believed I trapped you into fatherhood, I’ve decided to set you free—I think this is best, not just for us, but for Melanie.
I’m going to stay with my parents in Adelaide. You can contact me there to sort out whatever legal things have to be done about the business. But since the business was always more your ‘baby’ than mine, I know it’s better off with you, just as Melanie is better off with me.
There was no signature, but then none had been needed.
Now, nursing an empty bottle and a potential hangover, Craig wondered if five years later there was anything left to salvage between Taylor and him.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘YOU stupid, great useless animal!’ Taylor muttered as the huge, lumbering St Bernard raced to beat her up the stairs. ‘I’m not going to bed! I’m only getting changed!’
‘You better hurry,’ Melanie advised from the floor of the family room. ‘Daddy’ll be here in seven minutes.’
Taylor forced a smile. Like she needed reminding! Mel had been acting like the countdown voice for Mission Control ever since they’d got home from basketball practice. She on the other hand had been hoping for a phone call from Craig saying he had to cancel.
Glancing across at her daughter carefully colouring a picture intended for Craig, Taylor instantly regretted her selfish thoughts. It was important to Melanie that her father come—vitally important. She bit her lip as doubts that had kept her sleepless since she’d arrived back in Sydney assailed her yet again.
Had she done the right thing in coming back and practically forcing Craig to acknowledge Melanie’s existence? Even more disturbing was the question that had kept her awake each night since she’d walked into his office. Had she really come for her daughter’s sake, or was she simply using Melanie as an excuse to get Craig back into her own life?
Melanie called her and held up the drawing she’d been working on. ‘I tried to stay inside the lines. Do you like it?’ she asked.
‘Yeah! I think it’s great!’ Taylor replied.
‘It’s for Daddy to put in his office. Think he’ll like it?’
‘I’m sure he will.’
Realizing she was still in her bathrobe, her hair wet, and wasting time, she hurried up the stairs. Would Craig see any merit in the less than artistic scribbling of a five-year-old?
‘He’d better!’ she said, sliding open her wardrobe. ‘Or he’ll wear the meal he all but invited himself to!’ And that was something she meant to have out with him. His manipulative use of Melanie was inexcusable!
After extracting a simple white flared ankle-length dress in embroidered cotton, she tossed it onto the bed, next to the sleepy-looking dog now sprawled across it.
‘There, Bernie,’ she said. ‘No one could accuse me of dressing to impress! In fact,’ she added smugly, ‘I’m not even going to bother putting on make-up.’
Sitting on the bed, she plugged in the blow-drier and began drying her hair, but even the appliance’s droning hum didn’t drown out her daughter’s excited yell. ‘He’s here!’
Pulse skittering, Taylor dropped the drier and jumped to her feet. Already? Dammit, she wasn’t ready!
Craig owned up to more than a touch of apprehension as he climbed out of his