The Baby Swap Miracle (2 page)

Comfort food.

And, boy, did she need it. Those few minutes in the car had given her breathing space but they’d done nothing to change the truth. A truth neither of them had come up with. A truth that changed everything.

She looked up and met his impenetrable slate-blue gaze, and wondered if her child would inherit those exquisite and remarkable eyes…

It was a different sort of mix-up entirely, something that had never crossed Sam’s mind.

Something that should never have happened, an accident which he’d always taken positive steps to avoid in his personal life for very good reasons, and which he’d trusted the clinic to be equally careful of, but it seemed they’d failed, because this woman sitting opposite him—this very lovely, warm and gentle woman—was pregnant with his child, and she wasn’t going to be handing it over to Emily and
Andrew, as he’d feared, because it wasn’t Emily’s baby. It was Emelia’s. And his.

Our child.

He looked away, his eyes carefully avoiding the smooth, pretty curve containing a bomb that was about to blow his life apart. His child was growing inside her body—a body he’d had to force himself to ignore on every one of the occasions they’d met in the past eighteen months. Very few occasions. Hardly any, really. Just enough for her to get right under his skin and haunt his dreams…

His eyes dropped to the gentle but unmistakeable swell of their baby, and something elemental kicked him in the gut, just as it had when he’d held her. Almost as if he’d known—

Damn. He couldn’t do this. Not again. And it wasn’t how it was meant to be. It was supposed to be quick and clean and straightforward. His brother couldn’t have children. This had been something he could do, a way to give them a desperately wanted child which he could legitimately love at a distance and have no further responsibility towards except in the role of uncle.

Tidy. Clean. Simple.

Yeah, right.

And then this. Some
administrative anomaly
that had totally changed all the rules.

He yanked his eyes away from the evidence and put his own feelings aside for now. He’d deal with them later, alone. For now he had to think of her, the woman carrying not her husband’s child, but the child of a comparative stranger. And that wasn’t going to be any easier for her than it was for him, he realised. Probably a damn sight harder. They said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but to lose twice? Because she
was losing James again, in a way, her dream replaced with a living nightmare, and that was just downright cruel.

He met her eyes, the muted green smudged slightly with tears of pain and bewilderment, and his heart ached for her. ‘I’m so sorry, Emelia.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said softly. ‘It’s not your fault.’

His voice was gruff. ‘I know, but—thinking it had worked, thinking all this time you were having his baby, and then to be told it isn’t—you must be just gutted.’

She felt the familiar grief amongst this new rash of emotions, but also guilt, because the man who was the father of her child was sitting opposite her and even now, with the shock of this revelation, she realised she was aware of him with every cell of her body, as she’d been aware of him every time they’d met.

She tried to speak logically, to find something sensible to say to this man when James seemed so long ago and all she could think about now was Sam’s baby growing inside her womb—

Stick to the facts!

‘Sam, really, it’s OK,’ she said eventually. ‘I never really expected it to work. The sperm quality wasn’t good, James and I knew that from the beginning. It was always going to be a long shot if we tried it, and I know it sounds stupid but I was astonished when I found I was pregnant because I never really expected it to happen, so in many ways maybe it’s for the best.’

‘The best?’

Not from where he was looking at it, but maybe she had a different perspective altogether. She shrugged, her slender shoulders lifting in a gesture almost of defeat, and he had a crazy urge to gather her up in his arms and tell her it was all right, she didn’t have to be brave, it was OK to be angry
and sad and confused. But then she spoke, and it seemed she wasn’t being brave at all, she was being honest.

‘It’s been harder than I thought. My in-laws were starting to suffocate me. They were completely taking over, as if it was their baby,’ she told him, realising in surprise that, despite the sadness she felt that she wasn’t carrying his child, for the first time since James’ death she felt free.

Free of the suffocating and controlling interference of Julia and Brian, free of the obligation to share her life with them for the sake of their grandchild. She hadn’t realised how much she’d started to resent it, but now, it was as if someone had opened the windows on a hot summer’s day and let in a blast of cool, refreshing air.

But the air had a chill in it, she realised as her emotions see-sawed and righted, and it dawned on her, that instead of her in-laws, she’d be linked to this man, this stranger—this charming, handsome, virile stranger with the unsmiling mouth and stormy eyes—for the next twenty years or more. The feeling of relief was short-lived, and was rapidly being replaced by some very confusing emotions.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘It must have been very difficult for you from the beginning, this whole process. Emily said you were struggling with all the emotional stuff.’

‘I was—and of course I’m sad, but maybe it’s time to let go—and anyway, it’s not just me, is it? What about Em and Andrew?’ she said, not allowing herself to think about Sam yet, thinking instead of her friends, because it was easier. Safer. ‘I’m gutted for them, because it could so easily have worked this time and the treatment’s so physically and mentally gruelling. To think they’ll have to go through it again…’ She fell silent for a moment. Poor Em. Poor all of them.

‘I’m not sure they’ll want to try again,’ Sam said after a thoughtful pause. And thinking about it, he wasn’t sure
he could help them. He’d found it harder with each cycle, been more reluctant the more time he’d had to think about it, and now—

‘It’s such a mix-up,’ she said, sifting through the clinic director’s words and trying to make some sense of them.

‘Tell me about it,’ he said tautly, prodding his black coffee with a teaspoon and scowling at it.

He looked frustrated and unhappy, and she could understand that. She’d forgotten much of the conversation, the clinic director’s words wiped from her memory by the shock of his revelation, but she remembered the gist of it, and as she trawled through it again in her head she was just as bewildered as she’d been during their meeting.

‘I still can’t really see how it could have happened,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They seemed absolutely certain about what went wrong—certain enough to check the DNA of the remaining frozen embryos—which means that everything was properly documented, so why wasn’t it picked up at the time? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Because the embryologist was so distracted she didn’t even realise she’d made a mistake. She was clearly not fit to be at work and didn’t pay sufficient attention to detail, hence the confusion between your names.’

‘What—Eastwood and Hunter? I don’t think so.’

‘But Emelia and Emily? They’re quite similar if you’re not concentrating, and she’d missed off your surnames, and spelt your name with an “i” in the middle, which just made it worse. And it was only when the new embryologist sorted out the backlog of paperwork that the inconsistent reference numbers alerted her. Did you miss that bit?’

‘I must have done,’ she said slowly. ‘I wasn’t really listening, to be honest, after he’d told us what had happened, but if she left off our surnames it makes a mix-up more understandable, I suppose…’

‘Absolutely, but it’s no justification,’ he said flatly, dropping the teaspoon back into his saucer and leaning back. ‘It’s just attention to detail. It’s critical in a job like that. If you’re incompetent, for whatever reason, then you shouldn’t be working there. It’s inexcusable. They’ve created a child that should never have existed, put both of us in an untenable situation, and no amount of compensation can atone for that.’

There was a hint of steel in his voice, and she realised he was more than frustrated and unhappy, he was angry. Furiously angry. Because he didn’t want some random woman having his child? Reasonable, under the circumstances. She’d feel the same in his shoes. But the embryologist—

‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ she murmured. ‘She’d just learned her husband was dying. I know how that feels.’

Something flickered in his eyes, and he nodded briefly. ‘Sorry. Of course you do. I didn’t mean to sound harsh, and it was the clinic managers who were at fault. They should have given her compassionate leave or someone to work with to keep a quiet eye on what she was doing, not just left it to chance. But that doesn’t alter what’s happened to you and the situation you’ve been left in.’

And him, of course. She wasn’t the only one who was affected, but she was the only one who couldn’t walk away—the only one in what he’d called an untenable situation. And he looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but here, so she owed him that chance.

‘Sam, this needn’t make any difference to you,’ she said carefully. ‘I’m not asking you to sign up to any kind of responsibility for the baby—’

He gave a hollow grunt of laughter and drained his coffee.

‘Emelia, I signed up to give my brother a child. A child
who’d be brought up by a loving, devoted couple. A child who’d have not only a mother, but a father. I didn’t sign up to be a sperm donor, to hand over my genetic material to a stranger and take no further part in my child’s life. That was never on the agenda and it’s not something I’d ever do, but that’s not the point now. The point is you’re having my baby, and I won’t walk away from that. From either of you.’

A muscle worked in his jaw and she swallowed. Was that what she wanted for her child? A dutiful, angry father stomping about in their lives? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know him—and he was right, he didn’t know her. Time to change that, maybe.

‘I’m not that strange,’ she said, trying for a smile, and he laughed again, but his voice was gentler this time.

‘No. No, you’re not that strange, but you are alone, and you didn’t sign up for this either, Emelia. You were supposed to be having your late husband’s baby, with the support of his parents. Now, there’s no possibility of that ever happening, and you’re pregnant with a stranger’s child—a stranger who’s very much alive and involved with this, and I can’t imagine how you feel about it. About any of it. Or how your in-laws will feel, come to that.’

Good question. How did she feel? She didn’t know yet. It was far too complicated and she needed time to sift though it and come to terms with it before she could share it with Sam. Her in-laws were another question altogether, and she had a fair idea how they would feel.

‘It’s going to be horrendous breaking it to them. They’ve grown so used to the idea that this was James’ baby, and they keep feeling my bump, Julia especially. Really, you’d think it was hers the way she just assumes she can touch me.’

He felt a stab of regret, because he’d wanted to ask if
he could feel it, felt a crazy need to lay his hands on the beautiful, smooth curve that held his child, but of course he couldn’t. It was far too intrusive and he had no right to touch her. No rights over her at all. Lord, what a crazy situation.

‘So what do you do? When she does that?’

‘I let her. What can I do? She smiles this proud, secret little smile, as if it’s all her doing, and she’s constantly buying things—the nursery’s so full I can hardly get in there.’

‘And they’re all things for James’ baby, not mine,’ he murmured, realising that this mix-up was going to have a devastating effect on so many people.

She nodded.

‘That’s right. And they need to know.’

She swallowed. She couldn’t put this off any longer, and she needed time alone to think. Sam sitting there simmering with anger and some other emotion she couldn’t get a handle on wasn’t helping at all. ‘I ought to get back and tell them.’

‘Do you want me to come?’

She stared at him, wishing he could, knowing he couldn’t, and he realised that, obviously, because he went on hastily, ‘No, of course you don’t. Sorry. You have to tell them alone, I can see that, but we need to talk sometime, Emelia. This won’t go away.’

She nodded. ‘I know—but not yet. I need time for it to sink in, Sam. Give me a while. Let me tell them, try and explain, and let me think about my options, because this changes everything. My whole future.’

Sam searched her soft, wounded eyes. She was being so brave about it, but what if it wasn’t what she wanted? What if, when she’d considered her options—?

‘If you don’t want to go through with this, if you want
to take the clinic up on their offer—it’s your decision,’ he said brusquely, a painful twisting in his gut as he said the words—words that could end his child’s life. Words he’d had to say, even though they went deeply against his every instinct.

Her eyes widened, her hand flying down to cover the little bump that he so wanted to lay his hands against, and she stood up abruptly.

‘No way. This is my baby, Sam,’ she said flatly. ‘I haven’t asked you to get involved in its life, and I don’t expect you to if you don’t want to, but there’s no way I’m taking them up on their
“offer”
, as you so delicately put it. I’ll have it, and I’ll love it, and nothing and nobody will get in the way of that. And if you don’t like it, then sue me.’

And lifting her chin, she scooped up her keys, grabbed her bag off the other chair and walked swiftly out of the café, leaving him sitting there staring after her. The relief left him weak at the knees, and it took him a second, but then he snapped his mouth shut, got up and strode after her.

‘Wait!’ he said, yanking open her car door before she could drive off. ‘Emelia, that’s not what I was trying to say. I just thought—’

‘Well, you thought wrong,’ she retorted, and grabbed the door handle.