Her Baby Out of the Blue
Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Copyright

Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

CHAPTER ONE

‘YES! I think we’ve found her.’

Dylan McKenzie straightened in his chair, his heart beating a little faster as he recognised the figure. The bundle in his arms squirmed at the soft sound of his voice but Sophie didn’t wake, bless her. She had been as patient as he’d had to be, waiting for this Jane Walters to answer her pager.

Not that it had been a problem. You couldn’t just walk into an emergency department and demand that a surgeon be summoned from Theatre. Even for something as important as this.

He couldn’t cross the busy department and introduce himself either. He had to leave that up to the cute triage nurse, Mandy, who had been kind enough to let him sit in this empty cubicle while he waited. He tried to catch Mandy’s attention now, to alert her to the brisk arrival of the woman in surgical scrubs who had entered through the double doors leading further into this big city hospital.

But Mandy was bending over an ambulance stretcher, talking to an elderly woman.

‘Are you having any chest pain now?’

‘Just a little, dear. Nothing to bother about. It’s much better than it was.’

‘She’s had five milligrams of morphine,’ a paramedic told Mandy.

Dylan took a second look at the latest arrival to the department. Was it her? She looked to be in her mid-thirties and a wisp or two of dark blonde hair had escaped the disposable hat she was wearing, but she didn’t look exactly like the photograph he had currently tucked away in his pocket next to his passport and a crumpled boarding pass.

The baggy scrub suit was a good disguise but it was more the way this woman held herself that prompted the doubt. Dylan had the feeling that when she got changed, her civvies would be very smart. A slim-fitting black skirt, perhaps, with a tailored jacket to match. And boots. Definitely boots. Black, with spiky heels.

‘Let’s get her into Resus 2. I think it’s free.’ Mandy turned to check the availability of a space with cardiac monitoring facilities and must have seen the surgeon, because her head swung around to look for Dylan and her quick smile and nod suggested she would be able to attend to his request as soon as this patient was sorted.

So it was her. Even though the woman in his photograph was wearing jeans rolled up to her knees with her toes covered by soft white sand and had hair that kind of flowed to rest on her shoulders and—maybe the biggest difference—she was smiling.

This woman, now being intercepted by Mandy, was not smiling.

‘Dr Walters?’ Mandy’s call sounded faintly through the hum of the activity around them.

It was inconvenient the way many female surgeons preferred to be called ‘Doctor’. Now that Dylan had confirmation of her identity, it would have been useful to add her marital status to the information he was gathering. Was there a husband in the picture? Children?

He hoped not. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Josh about details like that? Because it hadn’t seemed important at the time, that’s why. Dylan’s breath escaped in a sigh as he shut away memories fresh enough to have the potential to derail him.

It was impossible to hear what Mandy was saying now but it was obvious she was informing Dr Walters that he had asked to see her. Maybe that he’d been waiting a long time. He felt the intensity of the glance that came his way and saw how her eyes widened just enough to advertise surprise.

OK, it had been a slight exaggeration to say he knew her. That he was a friend. But they would hardly have paged her otherwise, would they?

She was frowning now. Quite possibly displeased at having her busy schedule interrupted by something this random. She would be trying to make sense of it. Wondering whether she had, in fact, ever met him before.

Dylan could sense imminent dismissal. He couldn’t let that happen so he did something that almost always achieved the desired result.

He smiled at her.

Who the hell was he?

Attractive young men did not generally sit in the ED and smile at her as if…as if just seeing her was enough to make him happy. His curly hair was far too long and he was wearing a black T-shirt beneath a leather jacket that looked old and very soft. His blue jeans were so faded the knees were white and did those scuffed-looking toes belong to cowboy boots? He probably had a gold ring in one of his ears.

While he didn’t look at all put out to be holding a baby, Jane had the distinct impression he would look even more at home holding a guitar. Sitting by a camp fire, maybe, with a gypsy caravan in the background. Certainly not the type of person she ever encountered in her limited social circle.

‘He said he knew me?’

Mandy nodded. ‘He’s got a baby with him. Her name’s Sophie and she’s about four weeks old. Such a cutie—’

‘Is the baby sick?’ Was he a parent of a recent patient? No. The last neonate she’d been called to see had been a couple of weeks ago. A newborn boy with a cleft palate serious enough to make feeding an issue.

‘No.’ Mandy shook her head this time. ‘At least, I don’t think so. All he said was that he really needed to see you.’

‘And he’s been waiting how long?’

‘A couple of hours? Maybe more. I rang Theatre as soon as he arrived but you were just starting a case.’

A long, complicated case. The end of a back-to-back load that had left Jane with aching muscles and a strong desire for a hot shower and a break she couldn’t afford to take. A ward round that would probably keep her in this building until 8 p.m. was waiting. She should have sent her registrar to deal with this. Irritation at precious time being wasted surfaced.

‘And you’ve let him take up a cubicle space in Emergency for that whole time?’

Mandy flushed. ‘He was so…I…’

Jane could feel her lips pressing themselves into a thin line. He’d smiled at her, hadn’t he? Of course Mandy would have melted under a smile like that, especially when it belonged to a tall, more than slightly disreputable-looking young man with a mop of unruly black curls and a cute baby in his arms.

Why was he here with a baby?

Jane made the mistake of taking a second glance. She didn’t know him and she certainly wasn’t a friend. For whatever reason, this man had lied in order to see her and now he was sitting there, taking up valuable space in a busy department with the most unrepentant smile she had ever seen. Charming, maybe. Irresponsible, definitely.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she muttered. ‘Fine. I’ll talk to him.’

She’d talk to him all right. He was going to get an earful of just how busy clinicians in this hospital were. How short-staffed nurses were. How unhelpful it was to take up space that could be used by someone who genuinely needed it.

Just who did he think he was?

What did he think he could possibly have to say to her that would justify the kind of arrogance he was displaying? Demanding to see her.

He was still smiling as Jane marched into the cubicle. She didn’t bother pulling the curtain.

‘Hi.’ He stood up, adjusting the burden he held carefully.

Jane said nothing. He had three seconds, max, to say something that might get him off the hook. And if he didn’t manage that, he was going to feel the brunt of every frustration and extra bit of pressure she’d been under for the entire week. Jane was drawing in a long, slow breath. Ready to let loose.

‘Meet Sophie,’ the stranger said, holding out the bundle in his arms. ‘Your daughter.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘EXCUSE me?’

Jane whisked the curtain shut behind her. Mandy was watching but hopefully she had been too far away to hear that extraordinary introduction. She turned back to what now felt like a small space. There was a narrow bed and a single chair beside it. A baby’s car seat with a handle was on the floor beside the chair and it had a bag inside it with what looked like a nappy poking through the zip. The rest of the space was taken up by a very large man holding a very small baby. Jane glared at the man.

‘What did you just say?’

‘This is Sophie,’ the stranger repeated patiently. At least he spoke more quietly this time. Maybe Jane’s horrified whisper had made him realise his mistake.

‘Sophie McKenzie,’ he continued. ‘I’m Dylan McKenzie. My older brother was Josh and he was married to—’

‘Izzy,’ Jane finished for him, her tone hollow.

A tiny silence fell in which the name seemed to hang in the air despite the busy sounds from outside the curtain. A patient groaning in the next cubicle. A child shrieking a little further away. The rattle of an IV trolley going past and the general paging system requesting a doctor in Resus 1 immediately.

Izzy. Jane’s best friend. At times wild, always passionate, the life of any party. The person she’d loved enough to go way further than an extra mile for. Her fellow student, flatmate…the sister she’d never had.

Dylan was watching her. He had dark blue eyes, Jane thought irrelevantly. And black hair and fair skin. Irish colouring but his accent was Scottish. Josh had been Scottish, too. Working abroad as a registrar when he’d met Izzy and they’d fallen madly in love.

‘The love of my life,’ Izzy had said more than once. ‘My soulmate. This is death-till-we-part stuff, Janey.’

The expression in those dark blue eyes looked horribly like…sympathy.

‘Where is she?’ Jane’s voice came out sounding strange. A kind of soft croak. She knew, dammit. This was why the emails had stopped and the phone messages hadn’t been returned. She still had to ask. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m so sorry.’ The accent became stronger as his voice dropped. ‘But Izzy died. A month ago now.’

Jane gasped. A moment ago all those sounds around them had been quite intelligible. A familiar cacophony Jane was so used to she could just pick what she needed to hear from it. Now those sounds became a buzz that pressed in on her ears like waves. Rushing in and then receding. She had no idea she was swaying on her feet until she felt her arm gripped firmly.

‘Sit down,’ came the command.

Jane sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair beside the bed.

‘Put your head down,’ the voice continued. ‘Should I call someone for you?’

‘N-no!’ The buzzing receded enough for Jane’s mind to grasp something solid. The knowledge that this was very personal.

Private business.

She put a hand over her eyes. Took a breath and then another. Then she dropped the hand and looked up.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dylan said again.

He meant it. If he hadn’t had a baby in his arms, Jane was sure he would have hugged her. Not that she would have welcomed a hug from a complete stranger, of course. She stared at him for a moment longer. Why did she have the ridiculous disappointment that he was holding that baby, then?

‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that you’d better tell me everything.’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

Jane gave her head a tiny shake. ‘No, not here.’

He looked over his shoulder, as though he could see through the curtain to the noisy, crowded area it screened. ‘Fair enough. Where?’

‘My office, I suppose.’

‘Now?’

‘Do you have the time?’

A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and for a moment his whole face lightened. ‘I’ve travelled all the way from Edinburgh for this, hen. I’ve all the time in the world.’ He raised a black eyebrow. ‘More to the point, have you the time?’

‘I’ll find it.’Jane stood up carefully, trying to push back the devastating news she had just received. Not Izzy. Oh, God! She couldn’t deal with it just yet. Thank goodness her training and her job enabled the kind of self-control she needed rather badly right now. ‘Come with me.’

Mandy was still watching from behind the triage desk. She stared at Jane.

‘Are you all right, Dr Walters?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is there anything…?’

Mandy was clearly disconcerted. Did she look that awful? Jane pulled off the disposable hat and ran her hand over her head to check that her hair was still mostly confined in the neat braid. The nurse’s gaze slid past her to Dylan, who had the baby on one arm and the car seat and bag in his other hand. ‘Your backpack…?’

‘Could I leave it with you just for now?’

Mandy was getting one of those killer smiles. Jane could tell by the way the nurse breathed out in what looked like a soft sigh. ‘Sure. It’s out of the way in the ambulance bay locker.’

‘There is something you could do, Mandy.’ Jane was pleased to hear her voice sounding almost normal. ‘Page my registrar and tell him to start the ward round without me. I’ll catch up with the post-ops later. For anything urgent, I can be paged.’

It was quite a walk to Dr Walters’s office.

A silent walk apart from the occasional greeting directed at the woman half a step ahead of Dylan.

‘Dr Walters.’

‘Jane! How are you?’

She acknowledged the greetings but her step never wavered. Her back was straight, her gaze fixed on a point well ahead of them and her stride determined enough for Dylan’s long legs to move at a comfortable pace.

He stole more than one sideways glance. This Jane Walters was considerably more pale than she had been when he had first set eyes on her, but was that the only indication she might be upset? Were her features always this set?

Ice Queen sprang to mind.

Except it didn’t quite fit.

Dylan had met his sister-in-law some time ago now. Last Christmas, when the couple had arrived back in Scotland. Izzy had been a delight. So vibrant. So full of life and laughter, and she had talked about Jane all the time. Her very best friend that she missed terribly. The person who was going to be so excited when—if the miracle really happened.

The miracle had happened.

But right now Dylan found he couldn’t imagine Jane Walters getting excited about anything. Pleased, perhaps. Satisfied, certainly. The notion that excitement could dent the aura of control—power, even—that emanated from this slim figure he was following was quite bizarre.

She was important here, that was obvious. She might be oblivious to the quick glances and smiles that advertised respect but Dylan wasn’t. He knew the kind of hierarchy that existed in hospitals only too well and he knew he was walking with royalty.

And if he hadn’t picked it up on the journey, he couldn’t have missed the information from the office he was ushered into. By the standards of most hospitals, it was palatial. With a view to the beautiful city park that bordered the hospital grounds. A glimpse of the river even.

There was a wall completely covered with framed diplomas and postgraduate degrees and floor-to-ceiling shelving with meticulously filed stacks of medical journals and a wealth of reference books. The blotter on the surface of the large desk was unsullied by any doodling and the chair was tidily pushed in. Jane didn’t go to that side of her desk, however. She stopped beside one of the two comfortable armchairs that flanked a coffee table.

‘Have a seat,’ she directed. ‘Um…does the baby need anything?’

‘Her name’s Sophie.’ Dylan’s smile felt forced. God, he was tired. ‘And no, she’s fine for the moment. I fed and changed her while we were waiting in Emergency.’

‘Right.’ Jane sat on the edge of the other chair, which made her look uncomfortable. Her hands were curled into loose fists and the skin around her nose and mouth was pale enough to be of concern.

She looked terrible, Dylan decided. He was studying her face as she raised her gaze and then he couldn’t look away. She had an unusual eye colour. Green? Brown? He couldn’t tell because the pupils were large. She looked…grief-stricken.

‘What happened?’ A tiny catch in her voice added to his impression. ‘Was it a complication of childbirth?’

‘No. That all went perfectly. They were taking Sophie home from the hospital a few days after the birth and there was an accident on the M1. Izzy was killed instantly. Josh…broke his neck. He survived in the spinal unit for three weeks but died of respiratory complications.’ Dylan had to pause for a moment. ‘Actually,’ he added softly, ‘I think he died of a broken heart.’

‘And the…? And Sophie? She was in the car?’

‘She was in her new state-of-the-art car seat.’ Dylan tilted his head to where he’d left the items he had carried with him on the floor beside his chair. ‘She’s fine.’ He looked down at the tiny face he could see in the folds of soft blanket. His arms tightened a little and something huge squeezed his heart. ‘Better than fine,’ he added. ‘She’s perfect.’

Jane wasn’t looking at Sophie. She was staring at her hands, now tightly clasped in her lap.

‘I knew something was wrong. Izzy had been hinting at a surprise and, at first, I thought they were planning a visit back to Christchurch. I’ve been half expecting to open my door and find them there, laughing at me. It’s never been this long without an email or phone call. I’ve rung so many times.’

‘I got the message you left last week.’

‘Why didn’t you contact me, then? Why didn’t someone call me as soon as it had happened?’ There was anger in her voice now. ‘Josh knew how close Izzy and I were. He must have known I’d want to be there for…for her funeral. I was the only real family Izzy had.’

‘Izzy was a McKenzie,’ Dylan said steadily. ‘My sister-in-law. My brother’s wife. My father’s daughter-in-law. The only daughter he ever had. We were her family. And we all loved her.’

Eyebrows a shade or two darker than the rich golden brown of Jane’s hair were lowered into a scowl. She didn’t like that.

‘Josh was too ill that first week,’ Dylan continued. ‘On a ventilator in the intensive care unit. My father was distraught. I had to make all the arrangements. All the decisions.’

‘You had no right to exclude me.’

‘I’m sorry.’And he was. He hadn’t bargained on this. The grief he could feel. Jane had been just a name. An entity a world away from the tragedy he’d been dealing with. He hated that he was causing her so much pain. ‘There was someone else who had to take priority in all the decisions I made.’ He glanced down again and his voice softened. ‘This wee lassie.’

Dylan looked up and waited until Jane met his gaze. ‘Your daughter,’ he added.

‘No!’ Jane shot up as though her chair had scorched her. ‘You’ve made a mistake. There’s no way this child is mine.’

Dylan had to look up a lot further this time but he remained sitting. He had to try and stay calm. This was a shock for her, he reminded himself. She needed time. She needed to see Sophie. Really look at her. Touch her. And then she would feel the way he did. That nothing mattered except for what was going to be best for this precious baby.

Was she distracting herself from grief for her friend by launching herself into denial? She was certainly focused. Controlled. Attributes she needed, no doubt, in order to perform her job. He needed to be controlled himself. Stick to the facts if he could and not let emotion take over.

‘My understanding is that you donated the eggs that Josh and Izzy used for their IVF treatments.’

Jane’s breath came out in an exasperated huff. ‘Yes…but that was more than two years ago. The treatments failed. Both of them. Izzy was too upset to think about doing it again. That’s why they decided to go back to Scotland. To start a new life.’ Jane had turned and was pacing towards the bookshelves. She whirled back to face Dylan. ‘I was there. We were all upset that it hadn’t worked but I didn’t offer to provide any more eggs and Izzy didn’t ask.’

‘There was a final embryo. When they were tying up loose ends before they left the country, they contacted the fertility clinic and were told about it and asked to make a decision about whether to keep it or not. I don’t know why it had been kept and not used in the earlier attempts. Josh said something about its viability being in question.’

‘There were only four viable embryos. Two got implanted with each attempt. Both attempts failed. That was the end of it.’

Dylan nodded. He could understand why Jane was so adamant. ‘That’s what they thought as well but apparently there was the extra one. The odds of the implantation being successful were minimal but they decided to use it so they wouldn’t be left wondering.’

‘No.’ Jane shook her head decisively. ‘Izzy would have told me.’

‘She didn’t think it would work. She didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes, especially her own. She thought if she and Josh were the only people to know, it would be easier to deal with another failure. She had the implantation procedure and that was it as far as they were concerned. They’d tried their best and it was time to put it all behind them and start a new life.’

A flash of pain appeared to mix with the anger and sheer disbelief on Jane’s face. Was she feeling shut out? Distressed that her best friend could have kept such a secret from her?

‘She would have told me when she knew she was pregnant.’

‘She couldn’t believe it to start with. Didn’t she lose a baby the first time? At about eight or nine weeks?’

Jane gave a single nod.

‘They waited until they thought it was safe and then they waited because they wanted to surprise you.’

‘How do you know so much about this?’

Yes. There was jealousy there. And pain. A lot of pain. Not really an ice queen, then, despite her attempts to appear perfectly in control.

‘Josh was my brother,’ Dylan said gently. ‘He was a few years older than me but we were very close. We lost Mum when we were quite young and there was just the three of us. Josh was like another parent as well as my best mate.’

He drew in a ragged breath. No more tears, he told himself. Not here. Not in front of her. Please.

‘He came out of Intensive Care and I had two weeks sitting beside his bed in the spinal unit. Sleeping beside it. Dad and I took turns but it was too hard on my father so I stayed virtually the whole time.’

He had to sniff. To clear his throat. ‘There was nothing to do apart from hold his hand and talk. To let him meet his daughter. To let him grieve for Izzy—the love of his life. And to grieve for the future he was never going to have.’

The pain in his voice was palpable.

Jane had never had a sibling but she’d had her chosen sister, Izzy. How would it have been to have been sitting with her for weeks if her beloved Josh was gone? With them both knowing that even if she survived she would be unable to look after the baby she had longed for so desperately?

It was unimaginable. Jane’s heart went out to this man sitting here with the baby. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, Jane moved slowly back to the empty chair and sat down.

‘I’m sorry.’ She closed her eyes as she sighed. Words could be so inadequate at times. ‘It must have been terrible for you. Josh was…he was a lovely guy.’

‘You knew him?’ The tone of surprise was squashed. ‘Of course you did, with you and Izzy being so close.’

‘We lived together. Josh moved in with us within a few days of meeting Izzy.’ Jane found a smile. ‘It really was a case of love at first sight.’

‘I would have come for the wedding if I’d been invited.’

He sounded…jealous? Jane had shared a special moment of his brother’s life that he’d been excluded from. She couldn’t feel sorry for him, surely, after what she’d been excluded from.

Maybe she could.

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. A celebrant, a beach and a couple of surfers for witnesses. Izzy and Josh said it was the commitment to each other that mattered, not putting on a show for anyone else.’ Another smile tugged at her mouth even as something sad and raw twisted inside her. ‘We all wore jeans and we went paddling afterwards.’

‘In jeans? On a beach?’ Dylan shifted the baby in his arms and fished in the pocket of his well-worn leather jacket. A slightly crumpled photograph was produced. ‘Was that when this picture was taken?’

‘Yes.’ Jane had to press her lips together. She didn’t want to cry in front of a stranger. She needed to wind this interview up and have a little time to herself, hopefully, before her pager summoned her. ‘That…that was my official bridesmaid portrait.’

Dylan shook his head. ‘Why did it have to be so rushed? I would have come.’

‘It was kind of a celebration, I guess.’

‘Of what?’

Jane sighed. ‘Maybe resolution would be a better word. It had been a rather intense few weeks. Josh had proposed but Izzy refused to marry him and it was tearing her to pieces. Tearing us all to pieces.’

Dylan’s eyebrows rose. ‘I thought it was love at first sight? Why did she refuse?’

At least there was something Jane knew more about than Izzy’s brother-in-law.

‘She knew she couldn’t have babies and there was nothing Josh could say that would convince her it didn’t matter. Izzy could get very passionate about things. She had got it into her head that the only way she could show Josh how much she loved him was to have his baby.’

‘And why couldn’t she?’

‘Early menopause. Hit her at twenty-nine. Way before she met Josh. There was no warning, either, so she couldn’t try and harvest her own eggs and store them.’

‘So you stepped in and offered yours?’

‘Not exactly.’ He made it sound as if it had been a casual thing. An easy solution. ‘As I said, it was…intense.’ Fraught, more like. Izzy had made it seem that futures and friendships were on the line. ‘Izzy knew I was never going to have my own children. I—’

‘Why?’ The interruption was puzzled. ‘How did you know that for sure?’

‘Because I made a choice to have a career that doesn’t leave time to raise children, that’s why.’ Jane’s tone hardened. ‘Because my parents had full-on careers and I know what it’s like to be raised by parents who don’t have the time.’ Not that her upbringing was any of his business. ‘Yes, I got persuaded to help Izzy but, if I’m honest, I had doubts about it. There was an element of relief when it didn’t work.’

‘But it did work.’

As if to support the quiet statement, the baby in his arms stirred and squeaked.

I’m here, the noise said. I’m real.

‘I have her birth certificate if you’d like to see it.’

A cold prickle ran down Jane’s spine. ‘And that’s relevant because…?’

‘Because it has your name on it. As her mother.’

‘I’m not her mother!’

‘Biologically, you are. It was Josh who thought it was the best plan. We got legal advice and medical records as supportive evidence. You signed a consent to have your identity available.’

‘Only in case of a family medical history being needed. Or…a bone-marrow transplant or something.’ Jane stood up again. She needed to move. ‘This is ridiculous. I did not choose to have a child.’

Sophie squeaked more loudly. A grizzle that threatened to turn into a cry. Did she sense the rejection?

‘There’s lots of mothers out there who didn’t exactly choose to have a child.’The outrageous calm of Dylan’s voice showed he had absolutely no understanding of the implications of this situation. ‘They still bond with them when they arrive. They bring them up and they make good mothers.’

‘I have no intention of bonding with this baby.’ Oh, Lord, that sounded callous but it was the truth. ‘And I’m not about to have motherhood forced on me.’

Jane was pacing again. Towards her desk. Her nice tidy desk—as organised and precise as her life. There was the gold clock, the box of pens, a pad of sticky notes, another box with her business cards.

‘Here.’ Jane picked up one of the cards and marched back to present it to Dylan. ‘Here are my contact details. Call me tomorrow when I’ve had time to contact my solicitors. We’ll sort something out. A way I can contribute to this child’s welfare.’

‘That’s big of you.’ Dylan took the card and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood up, seemingly oblivious to the steady wail Sophie was now emitting. ‘But wee Sophie needs a bit more than money.’

‘It’s the best I can offer.’

‘I don’t agree.’

‘Look.’ The noise the baby was making was filling Jane’s head and making it impossible to think clearly. She had to escape. Find time to think about this. ‘She’s got you. You’re her uncle and you obviously care about her. I’ll help however I can but—’

Along with the strident sound of a distressed baby came the insistent beeping of Jane’s pager. She was needed. Where she belonged. In the paediatric intensive care unit or the ward or an operating theatre. She had to escape and step back into her real life.

Away from this nightmare.

Jane turned, ready to pick up the telephone on her desk and find out where she was needed.

‘Oi!’

Jane’s jaw dropped. Her astonishment at such an inappropriate command was enough to actually make her turn back.

‘You made a choice,’ Dylan said, his voice low and dangerous. ‘You made it possible for this baby to come into the world. You have to take responsibility for that choice.’

‘But I told you. I—’

‘No.’ He was furious now, the word was ground out from a clenched jaw. ‘I won’t have it. Sophie deserves better than this. Sophie,’ he repeated, holding out the shrieking bundle. ‘Your daughter.’

She had no idea how it happened. It was all too fast and noisy and totally unexpected. There she was, facing an angry man and a baby making a sound that would scramble anyone’s brains, and a heartbeat later—here she was…

Holding that baby and watching incredulously as the man stormed out of her office.

CHAPTER THREE

HOW could he have done that?

Walked out and left her—literally—holding the baby?

An incredulous huff left Jane’s lungs as she scanned the now deserted corridor outside her office.

‘Shh!’ She jiggled the baby but, if anything, the decibel level increased.

Jane stepped back into her office and shut the door with her foot. Perhaps it was lucky the corridor was deserted. What would her colleagues think of this?

Jane Walters—dedicated paediatric surgeon who was letting nothing interfere with her meteoric rise through the consultant ranks. An accidental mother? Without ever having had sex with the baby’s father or having been pregnant?

There would be an endless stream of jokes about immaculate conceptions and stress-free pregnancies. People would be sniggering at her instead of giving her the respect she had worked so hard to earn.

With an inward groan, Jane recognised the kind of single-minded focus she had given her career taking over yet again. This was rather bigger than being labelled a nerd because she wanted to study instead of partying, however. She was turning the spotlight on herself and her career instead of what actually mattered in this moment of time.

Izzy…

No. She couldn’t go there and imagine a world without the person she loved the most. Falling to pieces here and now wasn’t going to help anyone, and if it became known it might do more damage to her credibility than producing an unexpected baby.

Izzy’s baby.

One that she had wanted desperately enough to beg her for help. What if Izzy could see her now? It was too easy to imagine her friend’s passionate expression. To feel the bond that had made them so close.

Please, Izzy would say. You have to help me here, Janey. You’re the only person who can.

‘Shh!’ Jane tried to push away the echo of Izzy’s voice. She looked down at the tiny, screwed-up face amongst the folds of fuzzy blanket. ‘Goodness, you’re red!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is there something wrong with you, baby?’

She could deal with that. Jane sat on the edge of the chair and leaned forward to lay the bundle down carefully on the floor. She peeled back the blanket.

Izzy’s baby, she reminded herself as she looked at tiny starfish hands and a miniature body in a soft, stretchy, pink suit.

‘Maybe you’re too hot.’

It certainly felt hot. And damp. And the smell was a lot less than pleasant. Jane found herself automatically looking up, half expecting a nurse or parent to step in and deal with this.

Jane diagnosed things. She saw babies when they were clean and awake. Often when they were crying like this, in fact. She saw them later, when they were sedated and quiet and again when they were recuperating and, of course, the time she almost loved the most—when they were completely asleep.

Anaesthetised.

A time when she could use her not inconsiderable powers of concentration and learned skills to fix whatever was wrong and make life a whole lot better for them.

Jane Walters did not change dirty nappies. Or feed babies. She cuddled them sometimes. Once she got to know them—inside and out—they were a part of her professional life and she cared passionately about those children. So much so that she’d never once regretted her decision not to have children of her own. She didn’t have the time or need for them. Being able to go home and have a complete break was what enabled her to give everything she had—and more sometimes—to her patients.

This baby had sprung from her personal life, not her professional one. Jane didn’t cuddle babies like this. Not when they needed the kind of attention a nurse could deliver much more effectively. Not when they needed their mothers.

Oh….God!

Jane stared down at the miserable scrap of humanity on her floor.

Was it really possible she was the closest thing to a real mother this child would ever have? No. Being a mother had far more to do with what happened after the biological chemistry took place. She wasn’t a mother. She couldn’t even begin to feel like a mother. She didn’t want to!

The ringing of her desk phone took a while to penetrate both the noise of Sophie crying and Jane’s stunned thought processes. By leaning back in her chair she could reach the phone on the corner of her desk.

‘Dr Walters?’

It was her registrar. ‘Mike. How’s it going?’

‘Did you get my pager message?’

Good grief. Jane had completely forgotten her pager had even sounded. Her life was in chaos.

‘Hang on.’ She unclipped it from the elastic band of her scrub suit pants. ‘You’re in ICU?’

‘Yes. Where are you?’

‘Um…’ There was no way he wouldn’t be able to hear the background noise. ‘I had to go down to Emergency.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got an unhappy customer.’

‘Yes.’ The baby was still howling but it was a tired sound now, with an occasional, miserable hiccup. Jane’s gaze slid towards the car seat Dylan McKenzie had also left behind. To the bag with the visible nappy. Was there a bottle in there as well? Formula?

‘A neonate?’ Mike sounded interested at the prospect of a new patient.

‘Yes.’ Jane needed to change the subject. To find out what Mike wanted and then get off the phone so she could try and think of how to cope. ‘What’s happening with William? He looked stable when I saw him in Recovery.’

‘He’s tachycardic. Blood pressure’s dropped a bit.’

‘Any abdominal signs? What’s happening with drainage?’

‘I can’t see any indication of bleeding. Drainage is minimal. There’s no distension.’

‘Urine output?’

‘Also minimal.’

‘Oxygen saturation?’

‘Good. Ninety-eight per cent.’

‘Increase the rate of IV fluids and see if you can get his BP stable. I’ll be up as soon as I can. I just need a few minutes to sort this…’

What—this baby? The situation? The feeling like she’d been sideswiped from her chosen path through life and was falling into a huge crevasse?

Mike didn’t wait for an explanation. As always, he was eager to impress. ‘I’ll be here. I’ve finished on the ward for now. Everything’s looking good.’

‘Fine. I’ll pop in there later.’

Jane ended the call. The ward wasn’t far away. The charge nurse, Margaret, was experienced and unflappable. Just the person Jane needed right now.

My friend’s in trouble, she practised silently as she wrapped Sophie back in her blanket and took the bag from the car seat. A family emergency. I’ve got to look after this baby for a little while and I really need some assistance. Just until I’ve seen all my patients.

And possibly taken one back to Theatre, but even so it shouldn’t be for more than an hour or two. Jane eased the safety strap over the lumpy bundle and secured Sophie into the carry seat.

And what then?

Jane carried the seat in one hand and the bag in the other, leaving her office and heading towards the paediatric wards. What if Izzy’s brother-in-law didn’t come back and take over the care of this infant?

She couldn’t very well leave it in the hospital over-night. Questions would be asked. Social Services might be contacted. The truth would emerge.

At least it was Friday. At worst, if she had to take the baby home, all she had to deal with workwise tomorrow was a morning ward round. Then she would have until Monday morning to get this mess sorted out.

And she would get it sorted out.

There was simply no alternative.

Nine p.m.

Dylan McKenzie returned the smiles from a group of young girls who teetered on their high heels as they passed the park bench he was sitting on. The ones who weren’t flat out texting absent friends on their mobile phones turned their heads for another look.

‘Come with us,’ one of them called cheekily. ‘It’s Friday night. Time to party!’

Dylan shook his head, his smile fading. ‘I’ve got a date,’ he responded. ‘But you have fun. And take care,’ he added.

They were far too young to be heading for a night on the town in their skimpy tops and tight jeans. No more than fifteen or sixteen, surely? Did their parents know where they were and what they were up to?

Would Sophie be off doing things like this when she should still be safely under adult supervision?

Dylan sighed. Funny how one’s view of the world changed so dramatically when one became a parent.

Or an almost parent.

He sighed again. More than twenty-four hours of travelling to get from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Christchurch, New Zealand, were taking their toll. He’d never felt this tired.

Or this despondent.

Okay, he’d hardly expected Jane Walters to fall over herself in delighted surprise at being presented with her baby but she’d been so obviously uninterested. Appalled, in fact.

She didn’t want Sophie.

She’d offered him money to try and make the problem go away.

Not many things made Dylan really furious. He prided himself on being able to see both sides of any conflict and being able to retain dignity, if not a sense of humour, in dealing with adverse circumstances, but that had made him angry.

So angry that walking out had seemed the only way to make his point. That Dr Walters had to shoulder at least some of the responsibility. And he’d been worried sick ever since.

What was happening? She might have left Sophie in the care of someone else. It wouldn’t be impossible for someone in her position to engage the help of the paediatric ward staff, for instance, and knowing that had been why Dylan hadn’t immediately turned round and gone back after his dramatic exit.

But she might have called the police. They might be hunting for him right now, with a warrant for his arrest for having abandoned a helpless baby. If so, he’d be easy enough to find, sitting here in public view beside the river only a few minutes’ walk from the hospital. With a backpack beside him to advertise that he wasn’t a local.

He’d been sitting here for a very long time now. Hours. Trying to see a way forward. A future he had never envisioned. It wasn’t that he wasn’t prepared to turn his world upside down to care for his niece because he was quite willing to do that. So was his father, but they’d both agreed that what Sophie really needed was a mother.

Preferably her own. The woman who was genetically closer to Sophie than either her uncle or her grandfather. It had been worth a try, anyway, but it certainly wasn’t looking a likely prospect.

Dylan’s legs felt stiff as he finally got up from the bench. According to the business card in his hand and the map now stuffed into the side pocket of his backpack, he was about at the halfway point between the hospital and the address where Jane Walters lived.

She would be home by now. If she had even a spark of responsibility or humanity, she would have taken her baby with her. If she hadn’t, that would be that as far as Dylan was concerned. He would find where Sophie was and take her back to the other side of the world.

Why wouldn’t she stop crying?

Margaret had said she had just been fed and changed when Jane had collected her from the ward around 8 p.m. Tucked into the car seat, the baby had been happy enough until the short taxi ride to her apartment block had ended. The miserable wailing had started as Jane had slipped the key into the lock of her penthouse door and it hadn’t stopped since.

This baby knew it was in the wrong place and with the wrong person and there was nothing Jane could do about that because that’s how it was. She paced the distance of her open-plan living, dining and kitchen area. Round and round. Rocking the baby. Talking to her. Trying to reassure both the baby and herself. Trying to unravel the knot of anxiety that could morph into something close to panic as it sat there, like a stone, in her stomach.

She actually felt sick. There had been no time to boil a kettle for a hot drink, let alone think about making any dinner. Jane still hadn’t even pulled the drapes that covered the wall of glass overlooking the huge central city park across the road.

‘It’ll be OK,’ she told Sophie. ‘He’s coming back. You were happy enough with him before, weren’t you?’

A lot happier than she was with her biological mother, that was for sure.

‘He’ll look after you. He loves you.’

He had certainly given the impression that he loved this baby. She had looked so comfortable and safe in those strong, male arms.

‘He looks like a very nice man.’

His brother had been at any rate. Jane had never allowed a serious relationship to interfere with her life goals. No, that wasn’t entirely true. The men she’d been attracted to were like herself. Highly intelligent, focused and ambitious, and she was not the type of woman they wanted in their lives. Those men wanted support and admiration, not competition.

Izzy had loved her work and had been smart enough to find it easy, but she had been more than willing to give up any notion of a high-powered job as a consultant to be a wife and mother. She’d been planning to work as a general practitioner. To share a practice and life and parenthood with the man who had captured her heart so completely.

And while Jane couldn’t think of anything worse as far as a career went, she’d been envious of that overwhelming kind of love. Like being a mother, it was something she knew she’d chosen not to allow room for in her life.

Sophie was still crying. The knot in Jane’s stomach was like a cramp now and thoughts of Izzy were crowding in on her. Izzy and Josh. She could imagine how incredulous they would have been to discover the IVF treatment had succeeded. How special it must have been to keep their secret and wait. She could see them so clearly. Josh with his hand on an expanding belly and Izzy with her face shining with hope and excitement and love…

And now Jane had tears streaming down her own face as she kept walking, and she was holding Sophie more tightly, her head bent so that the fuzzy duck blanket soaked up her tears. The baby’s crying was like an echo of her own grief and Jane hardly heard it until she became aware of the insistent knocking on her door.

Was she disturbing the elderly tenants that lived below? Had they come to see what on earth was going on? To complain?

Jane scrubbed her face with the corner of the blanket and took a deep, shuddering breath, determined to gain control. Her neighbours were going to have to deal with this temporary inconvenience.

Just like she was doing.

The ice queen had been crying!

Dylan gave himself a mental shake. The title was inappropriate.

His anger and anxiety had left in a rush a few minutes ago when he’d been standing over the road and had seen Jane walking past her windows, her head bowed over the bundle she was holding in her arms.

She’d done the right thing and had taken her daughter home with her and she was holding her. Cuddling her. Hearing the sound of the baby crying had been a surprise. Seeing how wrecked Jane Walters looked when she opened the door was disturbing.

She was still very pale and now there were dark circles under eyes that were reddened and had drops of moisture clumping the lashes. Wordlessly, Dylan stepped inside and took Sophie from her arms.

‘Hey, hinny,’ he said softly. ‘What’s the matter? It’s all right. Everything’s all right.’

The door closed behind him as he rocked the baby. From the corner of his eye he saw the way Jane leaned back against the door and closed her eyes, folding her arms around herself as though she still needed something to hold. Dylan had to fight the urge to use one arm to draw her close. To…comfort her.

Instead, he pretended complete focus on Sophie and kept his tone neutral.

‘Is she hungry?’

‘She was fed about an hour ago. And changed.’ Jane was straightening up now.

‘And have you eaten?’

‘N-no.’ She sounded surprised that he would ask.

‘Neither have I.’ Dylan was still rocking Sophie and her cries were fading. ‘Have you got enough of something for both of us?’

‘I…ah…’ Jane was staring at the baby whose eyes— and, mercifully, her mouth—were finally closing. ‘How did you do that? What was I doing wrong?’

Dylan smiled. ‘Don’t take it personally. She knows me, that’s all.’

Jane didn’t return the smile. Her chin came up and a flash of anger sparked in her eyes. ‘So why did you abandon her, then? Leave her with total strangers?’

Dylan’s sympathy with the way Jane was looking evaporated. Had she missed the point here entirely? Had he been worried sick for hours for no good reason?

‘I wanted you to think about the part you have in this wee lassie’s life.’

Jane wasn’t looking at Sophie now. She was glaring at Dylan and she had the nerve to look self-righteous.

‘I could have called the police. Or Social Services.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No. Lucky for you. There are laws about child neglect. Abandonment.’

‘Why didn’t you call them, then?’

Her gaze slid sideways. ‘Because I didn’t want people knowing about this.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s private.’

‘Maybe you don’t want people knowing that you’re not prepared to acknowledge your own child?’

‘I am prepared to acknowledge her! I’m prepared to support her in whatever way I can. I want what’s best for her—just like you do. And…’ The glance at the sleeping infant was triumphant. ‘Being with you is clearly what’s best for her.’ Jane walked past Dylan. ‘Have a seat,’ she instructed. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’m make us something to eat and we can talk. Scrambled eggs all right with you?’

‘Fine.’ But Dylan did not obey the command to be seated. He might be prepared to do anything for wee Sophie but he’d had enough of Dr Walters giving orders. And assuming that she had control and had just made all the decisions that needed to be made. Seething quietly, Dylan walked towards the windows, turned and surveyed what he could see of this luxurious apartment.

Jane was busy in the kitchen area. Opening cupboards and a gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator. A saucepan and a bowl and a tray of eggs were already on the spotless black bench top.

‘Very nice,’ he said eventually, into a silence that was being broken only by the sound of Jane preparing their meal.

‘Thanks. I like it.’

‘Close to the hospital.’

‘Yes. I take a longer route through the park in the summer and get my exercise that way. It’s beautiful.’

‘Must be hard—keeping white furniture so clean.’

Jane was cracking eggs into the bowl. ‘Not at all. I live alone, have no desire to keep pets and I have a cleaner who comes twice a week.’ She turned her head as she reached to pick up a whisk. ‘My apartment, like my life, is exactly the way I like it. The way I planned it to be.’

Dylan said nothing. It figured. An important position in a large hospital would leave little time to create a home and this was nothing like a home. It looked like a set for a photo shoot by some house-and-garden publication. The perfect city pad for the young professional. Tasteful, modern, comfortable and…completely without soul.

Had the interior designer chosen the artwork hanging on the walls? Random splashes of colour that were echoes of carefully positioned items like cushions and rugs to try and tone down the sterile white on white of everything else. Here it was well into November but there was no hint of Christmas coming. Did she have a white, artificial tree packed away somewhere? With white icicle lights to hang on it, maybe?

It was all so unsuitable for a baby it was a joke. As funny as trying to imagine Jane changing nappies or playing with a baby in a bath. Blowing bubbles or swimming a plastic duck through the water and making quacking noises.

Except it wasn’t funny, was it?

It was incredibly sad.

The eggs were fabulous. Lots of chopped parsley and freshly ground black pepper and thick, toasted whole-grain bread. Jane hadn’t realised how hungry she was. Normally, she would have poured herself a nice glass of chilled sauvignon blanc to go with the meal but it didn’t seem appropriate tonight. You didn’t quaff alcohol when you were looking after a baby, did you?

Except that the responsibility had now been handed back. The relief and release of tension was as good as several glasses of wine could have achieved. Jane took another mouthful of the eggs and savoured it, then glanced up to see Dylan picking up some egg-laden toast with his fingers.

‘All right?’

‘Wonderful. You can cook.’

‘You sound surprised.’

Dylan’s grin was charmingly shamefaced. ‘I guess it’s not a skill I associate with important, busy surgeons.’

‘How many important, busy surgeons do you know?’

‘Oh, heaps.’

‘Oh?’

Curiosity about her unexpected visitor surfaced. He had shed the leather jacket now and looked…larger, somehow. Well-defined muscles on his bare upper arms suggested he was fit. The tan might mean he worked outdoors. The hair was too wild to fit with a white-collar job and…Good grief, she’d been right to suspect an ear piercing. It wasn’t a gold ring, though. Just a tiny gold stud.

‘So what do you do?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m a nurse.’

The statement was terse. Cut off by a mouthful of food, but Jane was being watched. Those dark blue eyes were on her face. Waiting for her reaction.

He was a male nurse. She was a female surgeon. Was he expecting some kind of put-down? Jane simply nodded.

‘So you and Josh both went into medicine, then. Do you have a specialty area?’

The hesitation was so brief Jane wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching for his reaction to her reaction. She saw her words being registered and she saw the wariness leave his eyes and an approving gleam take its place.

And, for some inexplicable reason, she felt like she’d passed a test. Supplied the correct answer. Won a prize, even. A tingle of pleasure made her aware of just how tense and miserable she’d been ever since this man had appeared in her life with his devastating news and his alarming young companion.

‘I love kids,’ Dylan answered when he’d swallowed. ‘I’ve done a fair bit of time in Theatre but I prefer my patients awake. I’ve done everything over the years. Nursing’s a great job to travel with and I’ve got the world’s itchiest feet. I never stay in one place for more than a few months.’

So she’d been right about more than the ear piercing. He was a gypsy. Would he cart Sophie from pillar to post with him?

Jane opened her mouth to tell him how unsuitable a life that would be for a young child and then snapped it shut. It wasn’t her place to criticise. He loved the baby. She was happy with him. He was a nurse and he loved kids and he was Sophie’s uncle. End of story.

Any niggling doubt was erased by looking down to where Sophie was sound asleep in her car seat beside Dylan’s chair.

‘Is she all right, sleeping in there? Doesn’t she need a cot or bassinette or something?’

‘She’ll be fine. I’ll make up a bed with pillows and she can share my bed.’ Dylan was scraping up the last of his scrambled eggs. ‘When I find one, that is.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I came straight to the hospital from the airport. I was going to ask you for a recommendation for accommodation but we didn’t really get that far, did we?’

‘You mean you haven’t got something booked? It’s after 10 p.m.! What have you been doing for the last few hours? I thought you’d be getting yourself sorted. With a hotel and a cot and supplies and so on.’

‘Did you now?’ Dylan’s gaze was steady. ‘You hoped I’d be riding back in on my white charger to rescue you from any responsibility?’

Jane could feel the heat creeping up from her neck to her cheeks. It was exactly what she’d been hoping.

‘Um…how long are you expecting to stay?’

‘As long as it takes.’

‘As long as what takes?’ Dismay enveloped Jane. This was actually a very long way from being sorted.

‘You need time,’ Dylan said calmly. ‘A chance to get used to the idea that you’re a mother. Your only chance to be one, from what you’ve said.’ He pushed his plate away but he was watching Jane with that intense kind of focus he seemed very good at. ‘You never intended having a child and you’re not about to change your mind.’

Jane would have confirmed his statement but he didn’t give her the chance. He kept talking. Quietly. His voice was compelling.

‘If you send us away, we’ll go, but you’ll probably never see Sophie again. You’ll never know what it’s like to hold a baby in your arms and know that she’s yours. That she’s utterly dependent on you and that she’s going to love you in a way that no one else can ever love you. Don’t be in too much of a hurry to break that connection, Jane. It might very well be the only one you ever have.’

He’d called her Jane. In that soft, lilting tone he’d used throughout that extraordinary short speech.

He’d go away, he said. If she chose. He’d go away and take the baby with him.

She wouldn’t have to hear him tell her about the responsibility she should be taking on. She wouldn’t have to feel guilty or contemplate the shattering effect this child could have on her life.

She wouldn’t have to see him sitting here—so out of place in her perfect apartment—with his big, masculine body and his tousled hair. She wouldn’t have to listen to that accent that reminded her of Josh and…and Izzy.

She wouldn’t hear him calling her ‘Jane’ like that. Like he knew her.

Like she mattered.

Jane had to swallow hard. And move. She gathered up the empty plates.

‘Fine,’ she managed to choke out as she stood up. ‘You can stay here tonight.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SOMETHING was different.

Flipping open another set of patient notes that Mike handed her, Jane took a quick glance at her watch. It was 9 a.m. and they were well into their Saturday morning rounds that had started at 8. ICU had been covered and they were on their way around the ward. Not behind or ahead of themselves. Nothing important had been missed. Everything was the same as it always was.

Except it wasn’t. Something different, that shouldn’t be here at work, was making its presence felt, even though Jane couldn’t identify what it was. She tried to push the odd feeling of disquiet away. It was hardly surprising that life seemed slightly out of kilter this morning, given that she’d left a half-naked man and a baby in her apartment.

Well, not really half-naked. Dylan had been wearing those faded blue denim jeans and a singlet when she’d discovered him in her kitchen at 6 a.m. He had been mixing baby formula with one hand, his other arm occupied by holding Sophie, and he was making what had to be an awkward task look effortless.

Jane hadn’t heard the baby awaken. The apartment had been peaceful and disconcertingly normal when she’d shut herself in the bathroom for a shower. They must have just emerged from the small spare bedroom when Jane had found them. The baby’s fine dark hair had been almost as tousled as her uncle’s, but only Dylan had smiled at Jane. Sophie had taken one look and started wailing.

‘Coffee,’ Jane muttered—as she had done in response to the ear-splittingly loud noise that baby was capable of producing.

‘Sorry?’ Mike sounded startled. ‘You want…um…coffee?’

‘No.’ Jane gave her head a sharp shake. ‘Of course not. I…’ She glanced up from the notes she was holding into the door of the room they were standing outside, her brain finding an escape route with commendable speed. ‘Matthew’s parents are looking pretty tired, don’t you think? They might appreciate a coffee.’

Her registrar gave her a strange look. Jane ignored him and stepped briskly into the room where fifteen-month-old Matthew was standing in his cot, banging a plastic hammer on the top bar. His father was trying to read him a story and his mother, Sarah, was picking up toys that looked as though they had been flung from the cot.

Jane smiled. ‘I see Matthew’s feeling a lot better.’

Sarah’s smile chased much of the weariness from her face. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? He’s almost himself again.’

‘Did you get any sleep?’

‘Not much.’

‘We can let Matthew have a bit more freedom today. He’s doing exceptionally well, seeing as his surgery was only three days ago.’

‘What about the results?’ Matthew’s father had discarded the picture book. ‘Are they all in now?’

‘Most of them. They’ve confirmed the first results we obtained during the surgery. Matthew’s neuroblastoma is definitely Stage 1.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Sarah dropped the toys she was holding into the cot and responded automatically to her son’s raised arms and demanding chirps, scooping him up gently to hold him.

‘It’s the best we could have hoped for,’ Jane agreed. ‘We’ve managed to remove the tumour completely and there’s very few signs of any microscopic residual disease. Tests on the lymph nodes have all come back negative.’

Tears shone in Sarah’s eyes. ‘So he’s going to be all right?’

‘He’s low risk.’ Jane had to add a note of caution. ‘My part in his treatment is over for the moment. The paediatric oncology team will be in to see Matthew and talk to you very soon. They’ll be the ones to make any decisions about chemotherapy and any other treatments.’

‘So it could come back.’ Matthew’s father moved closer to his wife and son. He put his arm around Sarah. Matthew smiled and reached up with a chubby fist.

‘Dad dad dad,’ he said proudly.

‘The five-year survival rate for children with Stage 1 disease is seventy to ninety per cent,’ Jane told them, trying to sound upbeat. ‘We’re going to watch Matthew very carefully but the odds are good. Very good.’

But not good enough, judging by the fear Jane could still see in the eyes of Matthew’s parents.

She had seen that fear before. Many times. Jane specialised in dealing with patients like little Matthew who had needed surgery for childhood cancers. She was very good at what she did and she knew that her skills improved the odds for survival. Sometimes even provided a complete cure.

Yes, she was used to seeing that fear. Understanding it and reassuring people as much as possible.

But this time it was different.

Jane could not only see the fear and understand it. She could feel it. As if it were her own. As if it were Izzy and Josh standing there, holding Sophie, and she had just delivered a verdict on odds that didn’t sound so great if you turned them around and said that this baby had a ten to thirty per cent chance of not surviving.

This was what was different today.

Because her world had tipped and now included a baby she was connected to—whether she liked it or not— Jane was seeing her world through a new perspective.

A dangerous perspective. One that she had deliberately avoided. Yes, she was good at what she did but she intended to get a whole lot better. She couldn’t afford distraction or burnout and if she became too emotionally involved with her caseload, that was precisely what could happen.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t or didn’t empathise with her patients and their families, but Jane had to hang on to the clear, scientific perspective that enough distance could provide. She had to think like a doctor, not a parent.

She had always known that if she became a parent it had the potential to cloud her judgement. Colour her decisions. Leach a little more of her strength every time she had a difficult choice to make or a heartbreaking result.

She couldn’t be a parent.

Sophie seemed to know that, too, because she hated the sight of her, as she had demonstrated so ably again this morning. And that was a good thing. It would make sorting this situation so much easier. It was also good that the rest of this weekend was available to focus on doing exactly that.

Jane popped into the ward office before she left work a little after 11.30 a.m.

‘Sally? Thanks again for your help yesterday.’

‘My pleasure.’ The older nurse manager smiled at Jane. ‘What a wee poppet. It was a treat to have a healthy baby to play with for a while.’ She reached for the files Jane had put down on the side bench. ‘We tend to forget that most of the babies in the world are like her. Our perspective gets a little skewed, working in a place like this.’

‘Mmm.’ Jane had the disconcerting thought that Sally sensed the way her perception had been challenged that morning.

Had Sally touched on how paediatric doctors who were also parents coped? By being aware of that balance? Did they get to relieve some of the stress engendered by work by appreciating what was normal and healthy?

They still had to be too much in tune with how their patients’ parents felt, however, and that had to dilute the kind of focus you needed if you wanted to be exceptional in your field.

The way she intended to be.

Sally was slotting the files into the trolley in alphabetical order. ‘Did it get sorted?’ she queried. ‘The crisis that left you looking after Sophie?’

‘We’re working on it.’ Jane’s hesitation was only momentary. Sally had seen it all over the years, hadn’t she? She was motherly and wise. ‘The baby’s actually an orphan.’

‘Oh!’ Sally’s face creased in sympathy. ‘The poor wee mite!’

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