Bride on the Children's Ward / Marriage Reunited: Baby on the Way (29 page)

With Jack so close to her, Liz could feel his intense focus on Julie’s talk about analgesia during delivery. She frowned as she remembered his suggestion about having a Caesarean. He’d dropped the issue after she’d reassured him but she’d been left with the nagging conviction that he hadn’t been happy.

‘Any questions?’ Julie wrapped up the segment and moved on. ‘Okay, since we’ve all got partners tonight I want to do some extended stretches.’

Liz worked carefully through the positions, keeping her concentration on her movements, trying to dampen her response to Jack’s touch. She thought she was doing well until Julie had them pretzelled into a twist.

‘Ladies, I want you to breathe into the stretch and relax.’

Just about impossible with Jack leaning over her, his warm hands on her knee and her thigh. The pressure of his fingers branded her gently.

‘Partners, you can help relax her by rubbing these points.’ Julie was obviously demonstrating the position because a moment later Jack’s hand smoothed up her thigh and across her buttock.

She almost whimpered with pleasure. His touch was wonderful.
His touch was torture.
She was consumed with the thought of him making love to her. Could she ask him to? Could she be that bold? But what if he thought her pregnant body was unattractive? He’d been so fantastic she didn’t want to upset the link they’d forged since he’d come home. She bit down on a sob of frustration.

She couldn’t ask.

‘Are you all right? Am I pressing too hard?’

‘No, no. S-something in my eye.’

‘Vary the pressure,’ instructed Julie. ‘Partners, massage is a tool for you to take into the birthing room. Practise it as often as you can. But don’t forget that when it comes to the actual delivery there might be times when she doesn’t want to be touched so try to tune into what she needs.’

Jack’s hands had touched her nearly everywhere. Rubbing her lower back while she knelt on her hands and knees, kneading her shoulders while she practised squatting, stroking her stomach while she was relaxing. She’d watched his face then, seen the smile that played around his mouth as the baby pushed back against his pressure. He looked…enthralled. Not at all like a man who didn’t want children. Could he be changing his mind? She looked away, blinking back the sudden urge to weep for him.

By the time Julie was ready to put on the video, every inch of Liz’s skin felt as though it had been caressed and kneaded. Exhausted from the roller-coaster of physical and emotional sensations that had racketed through her during the evening, she settled back in the beanbag with Jack.

His arms came around her, holding her, his hands on hers and his cheek beside her hair. The position was undeniably comfortable and just sitting, resting against his body as they waited for the programme to start, was bliss.

The video was a shock.

Sure, she’d delivered babies, knew all the technicalities, the correct terms, the potential problems and interventions that might be necessary for a birth. Perhaps if her path to getting pregnant had been smooth and planned, the idea of Jack being at the birth would have been a delight. Instead, the images flashing on the screen drove home the confronting intimacy of the experience they would share in six weeks.

With her mind in turmoil, she didn’t notice Jack’s tension until the video reached the delivery scene. His fingers tightened on hers as the woman moaned in pain. The minor discomfort made her aware of the stiffness in his frame surrounding her. She looked up to see his face carved in grim lines.

‘Jack?’

‘Hmm?’ A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Liz turned back to watch the rest of the straightforward delivery. She sighed in resignation. His push for a Caesarean was probably going to take on a whole new impetus after this.

Liz searched for the words to reassure him as he slid into the driver’s seat a little later. She looked at his profile, the set jaw, the tight mouth. His hands on the steering-wheel flexed as he sat staring moodily through the windscreen.

‘It won’t seem so graphic when you’re in the birthing suite, Jack.’

‘Why?’ He turned, focussing his brooding gaze on her. ‘Will you have a Caesarean?’

‘No. But—’

‘Or an epidural?’

‘Not if I don’t need one, no.’

‘Then I don’t see how you can give me that reassurance.’

Liz regarded him somberly for a moment. ‘What is it that’s worrying you about this?’

‘I was a big baby. My sister was a big baby.’ He grimaced. ‘We nearly ripped Janet apart when she gave birth to us. She was lucky to survive.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘Yes. Often.’

Was there no end to the guilt his mother had been prepared to burden him with? Liz looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. How was she going to fight the damage done to the man she loved?

‘Jack, your—Janet had an illness. Her drug addiction made her say things that no one should say to a child. You have to let those things go.’ She wasn’t reaching him at all. She touched his arm, feeling the tautness of his muscles. ‘Darling, you don’t have to come to the birth if you don’t want to.’

He shifted, reaching for the ignition, breaking the contact. Liz squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let his action hurt. He’d come so far, she had to give him time. But their baby was due in six short weeks. So little time to heal all the scars his mother had left.

‘I’ll be there.’

L
IZ
wandered into the nursery, pausing for a moment in the doorway to enjoy the cheery feel of the room. Hard to believe this time last week it had been a glorified storage room. Everything was ready for little Emma’s arrival thanks to Jack’s mammoth effort on the weekend.

Everything was ready…
except Emma’s father
.

He’d withdrawn in some way that Liz found hard to define. She trailed her hand over the soft, embroidered blanket folded at the end of the cot. He wasn’t rude or difficult. He didn’t spend hours at the fire station. He looked after her, cooking meals and insisting she rest whenever possible.

But on odd occasions over the last week she’d caught him staring at her belly as though it was a problem that he needed to solve.

His unhappiness was palpable. She longed to reach out to him and had done so several times, hoping to soothe the tension that radiated from him. He tolerated her touch, but seemed relieved when she retreated.

Talking wasn’t working either. He simply wouldn’t discuss it and she was at a loss to know quite how to tackle the issue. Butting up against his strong, silent façade made her realise how much things had changed over the weeks since he’d returned. And she enjoyed those changes even while some small corner of her still struggled with her inexplicable ambivalence.

He was doing all the things he’d promised and more. She looked around the room, appreciating the butter-yellow walls and jolly cartoon figures cavorting across two surfaces. They’d spent hours shopping on Saturday, with Jack gently but firmly making sure she took breaks while he trundled gear out to the car.

Then, on Sunday, he’d sat her in the rocking chair to direct proceedings. Not that he’d really needed her there while he’d assembled furniture, hung the pictures, mobiles and curtains. Drawers had been packed exactly as she’d requested with the clothes and nappies and all the paraphernalia required by a newborn.

He’d made up the bassinette bedding, his large, tanned hands incongruous against the fluffy weave of the small blankets. Watching him work with such care had made her want to cry. Again.

She picked up a rainbow-coloured teddy that was sitting on the corner of the dresser, her fingers sinking into the plump, soft body. Its goofy grin drew a tremulous smile from her.

She longed to be able to find the words to help Jack through this patch, but each time she tried to broach the subject of the delivery he shut her out. She tried to explain that the labour process could be beneficial to mother and baby if it was allowed to progress naturally.

Her body was designed to give birth, she’d told him earnestly, and was preparing itself to do just that.

A tiny, watery chuckle escaped as she remembered the look of horror her comment had elicited. So much for the comfort she’d been hoping to give him. Had he wondered if she might give birth right then and there?

Even promising that she’d let Julie and Tony guide her at the birth if they thought painkillers or a Caesarean were absolutely necessary hadn’t eased his mind.

She wished she could get hold of the old maternity hospital notes for his mother. But the institution had closed and no one seemed to be able to tell her where the records were stored or if they’d been destroyed. Liz sighed, wondering if she’d done the right thing by deciding not to tell Jack about her enquiries. It seemed pointless since she couldn’t tell him the facts about his birth. Had it been the horror story Janet had related to her son or had she embellished it for dramatic value? Just the way he’d phrased it, words repeated from his past, smacked of histrionics.

She propped the teddy back on the dresser.

Blast the woman for using such an ill-chosen weapon to frighten an impressionable thirteen-year-old.

‘Everything all right?’

Liz turned at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was lounging in the doorway, arms folded with his shoulder against the jamb. She wondered if he’d been standing there long. ‘Yes, fine.’

‘Ready to go?’

The prenatal class. Liz sighed. What topics would they be covering tonight? Something else that might drive the wedge more firmly between them? If only she’d discouraged him from coming last week.

She managed a smile. ‘Yes, thanks.’

Fortunately, the class went much more smoothly, with Julie covering the stages of labour. It seemed as though the midwife had thrown all the curly issues into last week’s session and today she wanted to steer clear of confronting topics.

Even so, Jack’s attention was absolute. If Liz hadn’t understood the reasons behind his concentration, she might have been tempted to tease him that he’d be able to deliver their daughter himself.

He helped her through the stretches. Her body hummed with vitality as it soaked up his touch. His massage during the relaxation session was particularly exquisite torture.

To take her mind off his hands stroking her stomach, she studied him.

His face, with its strong, angular planes and lean cheeks was so dear to her. He was a good-looking man. Not in a flashy, pin-up way, but with a quiet, somehow reassuring masculinity. There was just a sprinkling of grey hair at his temple. He’d age well, look distinguished in another ten to twenty years. She smiled slightly as she acknowledged that he already looked distinguished.

Her eyes moved onto his mouth and traced the firm, well-shaped lips. The grooves in his cheeks that creased mischievously when he smiled were nearly invisible while his face was composed with concentration.

His eyes were downcast as he worked over every inch of her pregnant belly so she couldn’t see their piercing blue. The way his black lashes drooped slightly at the outer corners of his eyes gave him an air of sleepy sensuality. Deceptive because she knew there was nothing remotely slumberous about him, particularly not when he was bent on making love to her.

Oh, God.
She
mustn’t
let her mind wander along that track, not while he was touching her. Hoping to ward off the sudden attack of breathlessness that threatened, she took a deep lungful of air.

His hands stilled on her as his eyes, sharp and questioning, sought hers. ‘Liz?’

She felt a small thrill of panic. He always saw too much.

‘Sorry. Just a bit of, um, reflux.’ She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through her quick fabrication. She didn’t want to even hint at her capricious thoughts with the way things stood between them. What would he think of her?

‘Oh, God.’ His blue eyes widened suddenly with astonishment before he let out a short laugh. ‘That was both feet. I think you’ve got the Karate Kid in there.’

Glad to be distracted from her thoughts, she relaxed and grinned up at him. ‘It feels like that sometimes.’

He looked back down at her stomach. ‘Do you think I can get her to do it again?’

‘You can try. You never know.’ And if it kept his hands on her, Liz realised, she wouldn’t be sorry. She was a sad case. Fairness made her add, ‘But I think your daughter has developed great timing for the last word so don’t be disappointed if she doesn’t cooperate.’

Later that evening, after a relaxing bath, Liz smoothed cream over the tight skin of her belly. Her lips curved as she replayed the magical moment she’d shared with Jack in the class. His delight in his daughter’s silent communication had been wonderful to witness. And even though the baby hadn’t been enticed to give a repeat performance, he hadn’t minded.

Good for you, Emma. If I can’t help your daddy, perhaps you can. Now, if we could just make him comfortable with your method of arrival, things would be—

‘Liz, have you seen—?’

She gasped and swung to face the door. Jack was standing in the middle of the bedroom, his mouth open, his gaze riveted on her nearly naked form. In a microsecond his air of irritated abstraction was gone.

Her hands automatically moved to cover herself while a small corner of her mind acknowledged it was a futile exercise. She watched his eyes slowly track down her body. When he raised them again to her face she saw the bright blue had darkened to something sensual and possessive.

He swallowed. Even with her eyes fixed on his she could see the convulsive slide of his throat. She felt herself swallow in unison.

‘You don’t need to cover yourself, Liz.’ His voice was low and husky. ‘You’re beautiful.’

‘I’m pregnant.’ She sounded desperately breathless.

‘Mmm.’ His gaze made the trek to her belly and back to her eyes. She couldn’t doubt the sincerity she saw there. ‘Pregnant
and
beautiful.’

He moved towards her, slowly, almost cautiously. As though he expected her to bolt. Didn’t he realise she was frozen to the spot? Her body quivered with each hard, pounding beat of her heart. Unable to endure the intensity of his stare, she slid her focus down, fixing it on the rapid pulse that throbbed in his throat. She moistened her lips as he came to a halt in front of her.

The suspense was unbearable. Why didn’t he touch her, put her out of her misery? She was almost ready to beg when his hands lifted to her shoulders. A sigh of pleasure escaped as his long, strong fingers curled around her upper arms, sliding slowly down. The backs of his thumbs brushed the sides of her full, aching breasts lightly, so lightly the touch was indescribably exciting.

Because he was taller than she was, he easily bent over the baby bump. His head angled into the crook of her neck, his lips nuzzling her nape before he grazed his teeth over the sensitive flesh. Her response exploded through her body, leaving her weak and shaky.

He moved to her side as his hand stroked her naked stomach. His palms were slightly rough, rasping her taut skin as he made small circles. She lifted her face, sliding her hand into his thick, dark hair to bring his mouth down to hers. The kiss was delicious, a teasing caress full of promise.

‘I need you, Liz.’ He tightened his arm around her shoulders, cuddling her even closer to his body.

‘Yes.’

‘Please.’ His lips trailed small kisses over her face. ‘Let me make love to you.’

Oh, yes,
that was she wanted, too.
So much.
But they had to be careful. They had more than just themselves to consider, now. The baby. She had to think of the baby’s safety. She could hardly process the words to get them out, her body was one big shiver of sensation.

‘Have you got any protection?’ she gasped as he nibbled his way down the muscle of her throat and traced her clavicle with the tip of his tongue.

‘Why, sweetheart? You won’t get any more pregnant.’

She could feel the warm huff of his breath on her skin as he chuckled.

‘No…no, I meant…is it safe? F-for the baby? H-have you been with anyone else? While you were away?’ She pushed the questions out with an enormous effort.

Jack froze before his head jerked back as if she’d hit him.

‘Hell, Liz.’ His shocked eyes bored into hers and she could see his nostrils flare with a sharply inhaled breath. ‘What sort of question is that? If you don’t want me to touch you, all you have to do is say no.’

He stepped away and her body chilled instantly with the loss of his warmth. She stood mute, wanting to curl away from his disgust.

Wishing she could take the words back.

Needing an answer. Her heart felt as though it would shatter.

He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, shutting the door with a tiny, controlled snick. The sound snapped her out of her daze.

Pushing back tears, she thrust her arms into her shirt and struggled to fasten the buttons with trembling fingers.

How dare he hide behind injured male pride over this? She dragged on a pair of capri pants, fighting to get her feet through the clinging fabric. All she’d done was ask a perfectly reasonable question. Her timing might not have been ideal, but she was still entitled to an answer.

She flung open the door and stalked down to the kitchen. The door out to the patio was open. She stepped through and saw him at the railing, his hands braced as he stared moodily out into the night.

‘Well?’

He didn’t bother to turn. ‘Well, what?’

‘You haven’t answered my question, Jack.’

‘What does your female intuition tell you, Liz?’

‘I want to hear it from you.’ She leaned against the rail a couple of metres away from him, examining his grim profile, knowing the distance between them had never been greater.

‘You think I’ve been unfaithful.’ His voice was flat, full of hurt.

‘That’s not fair. I think I have a right to know. For my sake and for our baby’s sake.’

‘Yeah, I guess you do.’ He sighed, a sad, defeated sound that made her heart quail. ‘But I’d like to think you trust me.’

‘Like you trust me?’ She wrapped her arms tightly around her body. She wanted to be sensible about this. They’d parted on the brink of divorce. In theory, he’d have been free to play around. But she knew in her heart it would feel like betrayal. ‘You can ask me if the baby’s yours, but I can’t ask if you’ve slept with someone while you were away?’

‘I’ve wondered why you haven’t asked me about that.’ A muscle rippled in his jaw before he straightened and turned to look at her, his eyes shadowed but steady. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else. I wanted to…I’m not proud of the fact that I was going to. But I didn’t.’

‘You—you didn’t?’ The words seemed hard to comprehend.

‘No.’ Unequivocal.

She felt herself sag in relief, was tempted to leave it at that. But she needed to know it all now. ‘But—but we’d agreed to a divorce before you went, so why didn’t you feel free to do what you wanted?’

He laughed, but the sound was hollow, unamused. ‘Oh, I
tried
to feel free, Liz. But it didn’t work.’ He shrugged. ‘Something stopped me. It felt…like I was being unfaithful.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I couldn’t put someone else…couldn’t put
you
through that pain.’

‘Someone else?’ Thoughts tumbled through her mind. Had Jack been unfaithful in a previous relationship?
No
, if he was too principled to sleep with another woman when his marriage seemed doomed then he wouldn’t have done that. Enlightenment struck. ‘Someone’s been unfaithful to you, haven’t they?’