For the Babies' Sakes (Expecting) (Harlequin Presents, No. 2280) (14 page)

He bent and put his cheek against hers, holding her tightly, silently tasting her tears, hearing her choking sobs.

‘I want you in there!' she whimpered. ‘I don't want you to go! I feel safe with you!'

‘I must go,' he said softly. ‘I'll be outside. Ready to thump anyone who doesn't do their job right. OK?'

‘Dan,' she sniffed. ‘If—if anything hap-happens to me, you'll look after the babies, won't you?'

Oh, God. He couldn't handle that. All he could do was grunt and nod. Couldn't even assure her she'd come through this. Fat help he was.

But now he knew what she meant to him and what he was missing—would miss—by not being her husband in every sense. Whatever happened, he had lost the love of his life. And all because of Celine.

They were pulling him away, gently, kindly, but with firm insistence. He stood up, eyes swimming, and found a brave smile for her. Ruffled her hair. Patted her cheek. No words possible.

‘See you soon, Dan,' she breathed, trying to be brave.
‘We—we had good times together, didn't we?' she added plaintively.

He cracked up. Told her everything with his eyes, but by then she'd vanished into the operating theatre, a pathetic little face with enormous smoky eyes fixed on him. And he was left with a nurse patting his back soothingly.

Nothing had ever affected him so powerfully. If this was emotion then he wasn't sure he liked it.

He paced. Wished he smoked. Rang Diane, who was excited and concerned in equal measures. Spoke to Helen's parents again. Paced more furiously than ever, trying not to imagine what was going on inside there, what they were doing to Helen, to their tiny twins…

Ten minutes. He'd only been here ten lousy minutes! And he'd probably have an hour or more to wait and in that time he'd go mad…

He was walking miles up and down that corridor. Tried to work out how many, multiplying figures in his head to keep his mind off Helen's ordeal. It was a living nightmare and he wouldn't have wished it on anyone.

 

Sleepily, Helen opened her heavy eyelids, her mouth horribly dry.

‘Helen!'

Smiling, she turned her head and saw Dan bending over her. ‘Herro,' she mumbled stupidly.

‘Thank God!'

‘Mmm?'

‘You're all right!'

‘Woozy.' She blinked, remembering, and clutched Dan's arm. ‘The babies! Are they…?'

‘Fine,' he said, oddly husky.

She waited. He just stared down at her.

‘Fine what? The variety, Dan! Boys, girls, budgies, werewolves—'

‘Oh.' He grinned, sheepishly. ‘A girl and a boy,' he said, as if savouring the words to himself.

‘Wicked!' She smiled in delight. ‘How lovely! One of each. That's clever of us. Details, Dan!' she urged. ‘I missed it all, remember?'

‘They were born at nine forty-one and nine forty-two,' he said softly, ‘the girl first—'

‘Typical. Impatient, like her mother,' she said happily. ‘Weights?'

‘Our son came in at three pounds, our daughter two ounces heavier. Quite a good weight, considering,' he said proudly.

‘Our daughter. Our son,' she said with a dreamy sigh. ‘Will they be all right? Really?'

‘No reason why not.'

‘Have you seen them?' she asked anxiously.

‘Not yet. But I'm assured all the right bits are in the right places.' Dan cleared his throat. ‘They'll take you up to the abour ward in a while, and make me up a bed next to you. You'll be monitored all the time. The babies, too. I can't believe that everything's OK. Staff here are wonderful, aren't they?'

‘Mmm,' she agreed and promptly fell asleep.

Dan picked up the information books he'd been given about the prem unit and studied them carefully. All day he stayed with Helen, though she seemed spaced out most of the time. He didn't care. It meant he could stare at her, eat her up with his eyes, without her noticing. Over and over again he kept thinking how lucky they were, how blessed.

And then, at last, he was taken to see the twins. Their assigned nurse, Maggie, introduced herself and led him to the incubators. Stunned, he stared at the minute scraps of life, feeling a mixture of elation and deep shock at the same time. Being a father was incredible, but the babies
were unnervingly small and the mass of wires and taped tubes seemed an insult to their tiny bodies.

Our babies. He couldn't take it in but knew his heart had already been claimed by them. It was lurching about all over the place.

‘Can they really survive all this?' he asked quietly, sobered by the dangers to their tiny lives.

‘It's early days, but there's no reason why they shouldn't. Their lungs haven't had time to develop properly, Dan, that's why they need help to breathe. They've been given caffeine as a stimulation and morphine for the shock of birth,' Maggie said gently. ‘Your daughter is doing well and she may be off the oxygen soon.'

‘And…my son?'

He swallowed, knocked sideways by the rush of emotion that had surged up when he'd said those words. My son.
My son. My daughter.
He said this to himself again and again, amazed at the thrill it gave him to be father to these babies: flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone. Part of him, part of Helen.

‘He's not so strong, but that's the way with boys!' Maggie replied with a laugh. ‘Get to know them, Dan. Talk to them. Sing, if you like.'

Choked up, he sat beside his daughter and fought for control as he studied the pathetic little body. She had eyelashes. And top-to-toe wrinkles. But she was beautiful in his eyes. A miracle.

‘Hello, baby,' he said hoarsely. And began to whisper things; private, sentimental, loving. More than anything, he wanted these babies to be in his care. He ached to spend as much time as possible with them when they came out of hospital.

That meant one thing. He must see Celine as soon as he could get a spare hour or two. He would go to her when all this was over and the babies were home.

He stayed a while and then, suddenly needing human comfort, he went up to where Helen slept, stripped to his underwear and pulled his bed close so that he could put his arm around her. She stirred and smiled, snuggling closer.

And immediately his mind was filled with Celine. What he would do, what he'd say…hell, he could hardly wait.

He thought of how he'd walked out of the bathroom and seen her standing so boldly in that blue towel of Helen's and he couldn't stop himself from groaning. All his frustration would be solved once he'd seen her. It was a matter of patience. But he'd count the days, dear heaven, he'd count the minutes and seconds, too.

A
FTER
three weeks, the twins—now lovingly named Kate and Mark—were transferred to Brighton and it was with mutual relief that Helen and Dan were able to return to live at Deep Dene. Since she couldn't drive for several weeks because of the Caesarean, he ferried her back and forth to the hospital and they spent all their waking time at the baby unit.

Helen's parents came, remaining—for the moment—blissfully unaware of the impending divorce. Helen felt she couldn't handle their distress. They adored Dan.

‘Isn't he wonderful?' her mother marvelled, watching Dan singing to his son. ‘No silly inhibitions about not being macho. Mind you, Dan could never look less than one hundred per cent masculine if he was wearing fluffy pink bedroom slippers, a tutu and an Alice band.'

Her father laughed and kissed his wife with affection. ‘You're a lucky woman, Helen. You'll need his help and it looks as if he's more than willing to pull his weight. Look how he handles my grandson! And I swear little Mark turns to the sound of Dan's voice.'

‘Yes,' she said shakily. ‘He is amazing with them.'

‘And you've settled well in your lovely home, and, judging by all the cards here, you've made lots of friends.'

‘I have.'

The warmth of the villagers had been touching. They had taken her to their hearts with all their messages of goodwill. Dan, too, of course, though he'd been around less. But the shocked reaction of the people from the vil
lage would be another hurdle she'd have to face, when they learnt that she and Dan were to part.

Her mother sighed contentedly. ‘We can go home knowing you're happy,' she said, giving Helen a fond kiss. ‘You don't know how much that means to us, to see for ourselves that our daughter has no worries. Other than how to learn juggling so she can handle both babies at once,' she added with a grin.

‘Oh, Mum!' she whispered, her eyes bright with tears. And she leaned over to grasp her mother's hand.

Her parents had been married for thirty-five years. She would have managed less than three.

Helen could feel her baby daughter's tiny little bottom nestling into the palm of her hand. And she knew that she wasn't giving Kate and Mark everything she wanted to.

Oh, with Dan's devotion they wouldn't lose out, but it wasn't what she'd visualised, it wasn't what she had planned for her children—parents who were polite and distant.

It shamed her that part of her was glad when her mother and father flew back to California. Keeping up the appearances of a normal relationship with Dan had been very difficult. He'd seemed determined to put his arm around her and kiss her more than was necessary, in an effort to convince her parents that nothing was wrong.

But she couldn't fault him where the babies were concerned. He was utterly devoted to them. It was he who, urged on by Maggie, first ventured to hold one in his big hands and even Maggie had wiped away a surreptitious tear to see the look on his face. Helen had just blubbed.

It was Dan, too, who had helped her to gain confidence in handling the babies until she'd become as capable as he was.

Sitting with Dan, she spent hours talking and singing and gently stroking the twins and they did seem to know
their voices, as Maggie had promised they would, turning their funny little faces in the right direction. It was like winning the pools.

And with every day she adored them more, the bond between her and the twins strengthening till she realised what it truly was to give birth to children and to have your whole mind and body and emotions devoted to their welfare.

Each day they learnt something new about Kate and Mark. Gradually she and Dan became expert at interpreting the babies' body language: smooth and relaxed movements meaning they were fine, and tension or limpness meaning they weren't. Mark had been poorly for a while but was now putting on weight and Helen felt able to relax her vigilance at last, especially as the babies were in open incubators and could be properly cuddled.

She had to admit that Dan had been terrific. An absolute rock. In the early days in Portsmouth, apart from a quick shopping trip to get pyjamas and clean clothes and a couple of nighties for her, he hadn't left her side. Each night, especially when she'd been upset by little Mark's sudden poor health, he had fussed over her and been so attentive that she'd felt bemused and touched by his unselfishness.

He must have been worried, too, but he'd brushed aside her concern for him and concentrated on making sure she'd been reassured. A man in a million, she thought sadly, wishing he were
her
man in
her
million.

He'd had absolutely no time to himself and she worried about his loss of weight, his haggard looks and thin face, which only softened when he was with the babies.

His devotion was extraordinary and she knew she could trust him totally with the twins. As promised, he'd proved to be totally committed to them.

Why couldn't he give her the same amount of love and devotion? They were together all the time—and yet emo
tionally they were apart. With all her heart she wanted them to be reconciled.

‘You look awful,' she commented to Dan, who was opening his shirt so that Kate—tubes and all—could be snuggled against his chest.

‘Thanks,' he said drily. ‘Come on, Kate. Snuggle up, sweetheart.'

With loving care, he closed his shirt around little Kate, giving her what Maggie called a ‘kangaroo cuddle', and the baby visibly relaxed at the familiar skin-to-skin contact.

‘You ought to take a break,' Helen said, engrossed in kangaroo cuddling herself. She looked down at her precious son who slept as if he hadn't a care in the world. Her heart ached with love for him. For them all. ‘Dan, you must be worried about your business. You've been here all the hours of daylight and beyond. I won't think badly of you if you take time to catch up on work.'

‘I couldn't!' he declared, shocked. ‘It's not important, Helen. I learnt that when we went to Kirsty and Tom's. The important thing is that I—we—spend time with them now they need us. The business is doing well without me. I have someone I can trust at the helm. New contracts have come in and we're set for life.'

‘But it's your…' She smiled wryly. ‘It's your baby. You started it up. You made it what it was. Don't you miss it?'

‘I haven't given it a thought, to be honest. My work is not as important as this. You need a chauffeur and you also need another pair of hands. That's my role for the time being.'

Helen kissed the top of Mark's small head. He was right. He needed time to bond with the children. She watched him shaking a rattle gently, in an attempt to gain Kate's attention.

‘Hello, Kate!' he cooed. ‘Look at Daddy!'

She couldn't bear it and took a deep breath, her nerves frayed. She remembered what he'd said about putting your trust in someone if they had a track record of reliability.

She thought of Dan's devotion to the babies, his tenderness and the huge well of love that he was offering to his children. And wanted part of that love.

His behaviour had opened her eyes again. They'd had a falling-out and now it was time to heal the breach before it was too late.

Nervously she gathered up all her courage and went for it.

‘I—I'd rather you had another role,' she said huskily. Her smoke-dark eyes met his startled gaze. Tenderly she stroked Mark's cheek, her eyes soft with passion. ‘We have so much in common. All those years we spent together… Couldn't we…? Oh, Dan, if you only said you were sorry for betraying me with Celine, I—'

‘I can't,' he said tersely, his face grim.

Helen stared in dismay. He was lifting Kate out, putting her back in the heated cot. Doing up his shirt. She felt a terrible hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach.

‘Why not?' she breathed. ‘If a simple apology would mean that we could be together properly—'

‘No, Helen!'

Dear heaven, she thought. He looks terrible. Angry and wounded.

‘I want you back!' she mumbled plaintively.

His jaw quivered. ‘Then you must trust me totally. Believe in me.'

The wobbling of her mouth almost stopped her from answering.

‘No woman on earth would witness that scene with Celine and believe what you said!' she declared miserably.

Dan eyed her with such sadness that she felt her heart would break.

‘I'll have the car outside in two hours,' he said in a remote tone. And walked out.

Helen spent the time in deep thought. Finally she came to the conclusion that her wounded pride was getting in the way. She and Dan could make a go of their marriage, she knew it. That meant…that she must trust him.

It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. They'd start again, wiser, more loving than before.

All through the drive home, she kept smiling secretly to herself, knowing what she'd do. Dan disappeared into his study as usual, and she went straight upstairs to put on something that flattered her slowly returning figure and then headed for the woodshed.

Axe in hand, she sauntered into the hall and lifted the axe with great care not to strain her ‘nice little bikini cut'—though by now she felt as fit as a fiddle. And brought the blade crashing down against the door of Dan's flat.

There was a yell from inside and she quickly dealt it another blow.

‘Helen!' he bellowed. ‘Stop! You'll hurt yourself!'

She waited and the door was cautiously opened. Her huge eyes regarded him solemnly.

‘If you feel like that about me,' he said jerkily, ‘then get someone else to beat me up. Don't hurt yourself, please, Helen.'

Delighted that he was thinking of her, she smiled and lowered the axe. ‘I was only breaking the door down,' she said, all innocence.

‘I'd gathered that,' he said with a grunt.

‘Ask me why.'

He gave an exasperated sigh and humoured her. ‘Why?'

‘Because I don't want you to live in a flat. I don't want you and me to be living separately when the twins come
home. I want us to be properly together; married, normal, parents.'

‘We've tried that—'

‘Listen to me, Dan,' she said softly, coming closer. He gave his collar a very satisfyingly nervous tweak. ‘I've watched you with Kate and Mark. I could trust you with them totally. And I reckon that you wouldn't do anything that might jeopardise their future.'

‘No. Of course I wouldn't—'

‘So I feel that I can trust you, too. I don't care about Celine any more. It doesn't matter to me either way what happened. You are everything I've always wanted and I don't intend to let you become estranged from me any longer. Come back to me, Dan. No questions, no recriminations, just you and me and our children. I love you. I've always loved you. I want you to trust me.'

‘You believe me?'

‘I trust you.'

Starved of affection, she walked straight into his waiting arms. He gave a huge sigh and kissed her. Hard. They went into the sitting room and sat together, just content to be in one another's embrace.

Now she was happy. Her heart was full. And that night they curled up body to body, sleeping more deeply than either of them had done so for weeks.

 

Christmas was wonderful. New Year, too. Helen had never known such happiness could exist. By the time the twins were three months old—and their ‘proper' birth date of late January was reached—they had gained sufficient weight to be released from hospital. They were coming home and all the worries, all the tiring journeys to and from the hospital were over.

‘I'm stopping for supplies. Will you be OK for a while, or do you want to come round the supermarket with me?'
Dan asked on the way back, their precious cargo safely secured in two navy and white striped car seats.

Helen turned her head and took her thousandth smug glance at the sleeping babies. They were adorable. Kate had Dan's thick black hair and Mark boasted Dan's fabulous black lashes. Their little faces had filled out and Dan claimed that Kate was going to have her mother's classically beautiful features and long legs. They were the most beautiful babies she'd ever seen. Of course. She smiled blissfully and turned back to Dan.

‘We did the shopping yesterday. That's enough, surely? Can't we go straight home?' she asked wistfully.

‘I'd love to. But I'm worried about the level of the river,' Dan replied. ‘It's rained so much over this year that the ground is saturated and there are severe flood warnings on our river. The last thing we want is to be stranded and run out of nappies. I'd like to get in an extra store of food, in case there's trouble. Just as a precaution.'

‘You're right. We'll be fine in the car. I'll listen to the radio. You'll be able to scoot around faster without us in tow. We'd be sure to draw a crowd!'

Dan laughed and squeezed Helen's hand. ‘I know! I think we'll have to build in cooing time for any trips out. And I suppose we ought to be careful about crowds. The babies still need protection. They're very tiny still.'

‘I love you, Dan,' she said softly, stroking his arm. And melted at his warm answering smile.

He'd been right about the flood levels. All around Lewes the fields had been turned into lakes. The radio had forecast more storms and put out warnings to people in flood plains. When they set off again from the supermarket, the rain began to lash the car and she felt glad of Dan's foresight in stocking up.

A while later she was frowning at the sight of the lane
ahead into the village, which had water rushing across it from a higher field to a lower.

‘It wasn't like this when we left early this morning,' she worried. ‘Oh, Dan! Can we make it?'

‘Of course,' he soothed. ‘It's not too deep.'

‘What if we're at home and we're cut off and the twins are ill?' she asked, holding her breath as the four-wheel drive approached the churning water.