One Tiny Miracle... (5 page)

Waited for the balls to clatter to the floor, for everything to grind to a halt, for hopelessness to invade, yet as she stood there, held by him, all she did was pause, just this blink of a pause where she told her truth and, safe for a moment, regrouped.

‘Scared of what?’ After the longest time he asked her.

‘The baby deserves better.’

Ben closed his eyes in regret. Shameful regret because he had, at one time, thought the same too.

Two affluent parents, conceiving a baby that was planned, loved, wanted…

It had been his blueprint, his rage at the universe, because if he and Jen, with all they had, with all their plans and dreams, couldn’t get there, why should anyone else?

Only now he held Celeste and realised that, despite the circumstances, the woman in his arms met the last two on the list and, despite the odds, she’d make up for all the rest.

‘It’s got
you
.’ He stayed there, still holding her, and thought about it—thought how lucky that little baby was to have her, unplanned or whatever. It had Celeste—and he thought how she’d made him smile so many times, thought of the warmth of her affection and how lucky the recipient of that would be, and his neat blueprint faded from his mind.

‘Am I enough, though?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Oh, yes,’ he replied definitely.

She was absolutely enough.

More than enough.

So much more than enough, only he wasn’t talking
about the baby now, because holding her, for the first time holding her, he forgot what they were talking about, forgot that she was pregnant. She was simply Celeste, funny, kind and terribly, terribly sexy. The scent of her up close, the soft feel of her head against his chest, overcame him, and he was lost in her. As naturally as breathing, he told her how he felt with a kiss instead of words, just pulling up her chin and kissing her. He lowered his head onto dark red lips and confirmed how
enough
she was with his mouth, and as their lips met Ben experienced this heady rush, like sugar dissolving on his tongue, as he tasted temptation.

She was stunned, because this was nothing like she had ever felt before, because in Ben’s arms she felt safe, and just herself. Good, bad, whatever, she was herself with Ben. She had admitted to him that she was scared and the world had carried right on moving, only now it was even better than before.

His hands were in her hair and his mouth was moving with hers and she felt sexy—for the first time in her life she felt sexy and cherished and safe. And Ben felt it too, this tenderness and want rushing in that was
finally
without comparison. There was no logical thought to it—it was just a kiss, but one that tasted like heaven, surrounded by the scent of her hair and with her tongue cool from water. It was instinct, just the haven of instinct.

She kissed him back.

Kissed Ben in a way she never had before.

Not a practised kiss, not the type you have to think about—it was all about tasting, sharing, which was just how it should be. Ben’s privacy, the isolated place that
was him was suddenly hers to explore, and it tasted divine. Celeste had stepped inside the exclusive inner sanctum of this guarded man and she gloried in it.

‘Celeste.’ He groaned her name into her mouth, so she knew that she was there, knew she
was
the woman he was kissing tonight. One of his hands was on the back of her head, bringing her face to his, the other was on her bottom, her big fat dimply bottom, she vaguely thought, except he cupped it and stroked it till all it felt was fabulous. She hadn’t really known what sexy was, yet she was discovering it now, right now, when it should be the last thing on her mind. Yet she was only a woman and, as his hands gathered her closer to him, it was all she wanted to be.

He had never come closer to escape—to a place where it was just him.

It wasn’t a selfish escape.

Because also in that place was Celeste, and for a blissful few moments Ben was himself—the real him, the one that had been lost for ages. So he kissed her, tasted her, wanted her, without past or future, just succumbed to the heady taste of the present. He was hard, and he could feel her lovely bottom in his hands; he was in the place where bliss was no longer enough and then you reached for more, so he pulled her into his hardness, wanted to feel her softness against him, to shed her clothes, to drown in her. But instead he felt the solid weight of the baby that had been there only on the periphery of his mind now pressed into him. He could feel the dense weight of it and, tonight of all nights, it felt like a punch to the stomach, and it was Ben who pulled back.

‘I’m sorry.’ He released her so quickly it felt as if she were falling. ‘That shouldn’t have happened.’

Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it had. It wasn’t the kiss that embarrassed her—she was saving that for later. Right now it was his reaction—he was acting as though he was completely appalled at what he had done.

‘Forget it…’ She attempted casual, with a heart rate topping a hundred, as if shot awake from a blissful dream. Only now she was facing stark reality and just wanted out of there, as soon as she could. ‘Really, it’s no big deal.’

‘Celeste…’ Hell, he didn’t want to add to her problems—only he just had, Ben knew that. But he had forgotten in that moment that she was pregnant. As he’d held her, all she had been was Celeste. ‘Like I said, I’m not looking for—’

‘I get it, Ben,’ she interrupted. ‘And neither am I. It was just a kiss, just…’ She shrugged helplessly, because it had been so much more than just a kiss. She could still taste him on her lips, still feel the delicious crush of him holding her, and now he had taken it all away. ‘Just one of those things that should never have happened. It doesn’t change anything.’

O
NLY
everything changed.

He saw her come into work around lunchtime the next day and speak with Meg. Trying to pretend nothing had happened, she gave him a quick smile as she passed. It had been a kiss between friends, Ben told himself, that had maybe got just a little out of hand. He was certain they could move on from it, so when a little while later he met her in the corridor, he asked how she was.

‘Not bad.’ She gave him a breezy smile. ‘I’m officially on maternity leave.’

‘How are you, Celeste?’ Belinda clipped past on high heels and stopped to ask.

‘I was just telling Ben that I’ve been signed off.’ He could see it was with great effort she was maintaining that smile. ‘So I guess I’ll see you both when I’m a mum.’

There was a message for him in there, Ben knew it, and, feeling guilty, he was almost relieved to hear it. He was having trouble believing how stupid he’d been last night. She had enough on her plate without him messing
things up, and a waif with a baby was the very last thing he needed right now.

‘I hope she’s okay,’ Belinda said as Celeste waddled off.

‘She will be now she’s not working,’ Ben answered.

‘No.’ Belinda gave a little shake of her head. ‘I meant that I hope she’ll be okay on her own with a baby.’

‘She’s not a teenager…’ They were walking back to the office, and Ben was getting more and more irritated with Belinda’s gloom. ‘She’ll be fine.’

‘But, still, it isn’t going to be easy. I wonder who the father is? I mean, she’s never said, and surely he should be responsible for something…’

‘How’s your new man?’ Ben rapidly changed the subject as they reached their office. ‘Still going strong?’

‘Paul’s amazing,’ Belinda sighed happily. ‘We’re going away this weekend.’

‘I know.’ Ben grinned. ‘I’m covering for you.’

‘His ex-wife’s got the kids.’

‘Have you met them yet?’

‘God, no.’ Belinda rolled her eyes as she sorted out some paperwork. ‘The last thing I need is someone else’s kids.’

It was the last thing Ben needed too.

Of all the stupid things to do…As they worked on in silence, Ben was silently brooding. Whether he liked it or not, he was involved with Celeste and her baby up to a point. He couldn’t just stop going over to see her while she remained his neighbour…

‘Here.’ Belinda broke into his introspection. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

Ben went over to the computer and had to laugh as
twenty or so female faces pouted back at him from an internet dating agency’s website. ‘I typed in your details and came up with all these possibilities for you.’

‘I’m not interested in dating, and certainly not this way,’ he said.

‘Oh, get into the twenty-first century.’ Belinda laughed. ‘At least you know what you’re getting this way—I haven’t got time to go out to the clubs. And I know Paul’s not looking for a stay-at-home surrogate mother for his children—he knows from the start that my career comes first and I absolutely don’t want a baby. Look, she’s nice.’ She brought up a woman’s details and Ben read on.

‘She says she wants someone with no baggage,’ Ben pointed out. ‘I’ve got a truckload.’

‘We all have.’ Belinda shrugged. ‘You just have to lie a little. I mean, if you get to our age and have had any semblance of a life, baggage is the norm. Go on, Ben,’ she urged. ‘Give it a go.’

‘Leave it, Belinda,’ he warned. Colleagues he could deal with, friendly colleagues even, but Belinda was pushing the line. She was in love and hanging off lampposts and wanted to spread her happiness—but she was talking to the wrong guy. ‘I couldn’t be less interested in starting a relationship now.’

He meant it.

Four years ago tomorrow…He lay on the bed when he got home and closed his eyes.

Four years…

Had it been that long? It seemed like only yesterday—yet it had also stretched on for ever.

Four years…He snapped his eyes open suddenly, knowing that he just had to deal with the present problem that was Celeste before he could get on with remembering and mourning the past.

‘I was wondering…’ His voice trailed off. It had taken him ages to decide how best to deal with this and finally he had decided to drop by her place, to pretend nothing had happened, and then offer his solution. Except she had taken for ever to answer the door and when she did, it was clear that he had woken her up. There was a huge pillow crease down the side of her face and the usually sunny Celeste was decidedly grumpy and certainly not about to make this easy. ‘Were you asleep?’

‘Actually, yes, I was.’

‘Sorry.’ Ben cleared his throat. He didn’t want to just drop helping her, but he did want to pull back and this might just be the way! ‘I’ve got a day off tomorrow. I’m going to do a big shop because I’m having too many take-aways, and I wondered if you wanted to make a list. I could grab some stuff for you.’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘It really is no problem. You said you were struggling to get to the shops—’

‘I did my shopping this afternoon online,’ Celeste interrupted. ‘So I’m all right. I’ve got a friend coming over tomorrow and we’re going to make a load of meals and stock up the freezer.’

‘That’s…great.’

‘And the doctor said that I needed to rest a lot,’ Celeste continued, ‘so, I don’t mean to sound rude,
but…’ she gave an uncomfortable swallow ‘…I’m having a lot of trouble getting to sleep, and I’d just nodded off when you knocked.’

‘Sorry about that,’ he apologised.

‘You weren’t to know.’ She gave a slight smile, only it didn’t reach her eyes, and neither did her eyes meet his. ‘But it might be better if you don’t…’ she gave a tight shrug ‘…just drop over in future.’

‘Sure,’ Ben said. He should have been relieved. After all, he’d been hoping for the same thing. He was absolved from duty now, so why didn’t it feel great? ‘What did the doctor say?’ he asked, not able to leave it there.

‘I told you.’ Celeste’s usually sunny face was a closed mask. ‘I’m to rest…Look, Ben, it’s really not your concern.’

Then she closed the door.

He went back to his unit.

And as he had done for the last few years on this night, Ben tried and failed not to watch the clock.

The horrible thing about anniversaries, Ben had found, was the build-up to them—as if you were stuck in a portal, as if by somehow going over and over every detail, you could change the outcome, bargain with God.

Only not this night.

Oh, he did all that, but there was another layer there too.

Guilt.

Guilt, because when he surely should have been drowning his sorrows in whisky and thinking only of Jen, when he should surely be lacerating himself with thoughts of what could have been, this year he couldn’t sustain it.

Instead, he found himself standing at the window and wondering about Celeste.

Found himself thinking not about what could have been, but what already was.

And what could be?

Time did heal.

He’d been told it, had said it himself, but only now was he actually starting to believe it.

It didn’t consume him now, it didn’t walk with him constantly, there was room in his mind for other thoughts, so on a day that was usually spent locked in mourning, he awoke, showered and dressed, went to the cemetery and told them he loved them—always had, always would—but instead of heading to her parents’ home, instead of stopping, he started. He kept his appointment with the bank, saw the real-estate agent, looked around the house again, put a deposit on a boat, went home, saw that his sunflowers were dying, watered them, showered again, and got changed into shorts.

He did really well, actually!

Until Jen’s parents rang.

And then so too did his.

Followed by Jen’s sister.

And then it all finally caught up with him.

He tried not to look at the clock, tried not to remember ringing her from work, then tried to remember the
exact
tone of her voice when Jen had said she had a headache.

It had done nothing to alert him.

Well, actually it had, but he was a doctor and his wife was pregnant and also a doctor and between them they
could dream up a million and one scenarios if they so wished. So she had told him it was just a headache…and he had told himself the same.

‘
It’s just a headache, Ben
.’

Except when he suggested that she take something for it, instead of her usual rebuff, he’d been concerned to find out that she already had. Jen, who never took anything, had taken a couple of painkillers.

‘I’ll come home,’ he’d suggested.

‘For God’s sake, Ben.’ She’d sounded irritated. ‘It’s a headache, I’m just going to go and lie down.’

Yes, by early evening it had all caught up with him again.

He didn’t walk along the beach today, and he didn’t jog. He ran. Only the beach seemed too small—he could see Melbourne miles away in the sunset, but he felt as if he could make it in a few leaps, that he would never run out of energy, that he could run all his life and still never leave it behind.

He wasn’t wearing a watch, but he knew the time, knew it to the very second.

Ringing Jen and getting no answer, and telling himself she was just lying down.

He pounded the beach. His lungs were bursting but still,
still
he remembered walking up the garden path and trying not to run, because he was surely being stupid, because there was surely nothing wrong, then letting himself in and calling her name. It was five past seven, as he ran, Ben knew that, because suddenly he felt like swearing at the sky for cheating them, five past seven because he’d seen it on the clock as he had walked
into the lounge, seen her kneeling on the floor, her hands on her head on the sofa.

So still.

So pale.

So gone.

Pounding on her chest, ringing the ambulance.

He wanted her and if not he wanted a Caesarean—he wanted life to be salvaged from the wreckage he had come home to, except he knew, knew, knew even as he laid her flat on her back that it was too late.

He ran along that beach, not as if the devil was chasing him, because nothing could catch him now. He was the chaser, pounding on anger, and regret and hate and the unfairness of it all.

Temper split his mind.

He didn’t want Celeste and her baby.

He wanted
his!

It was a relief to be off work, but it was also the longest, loneliest time.

Her request to stay at her parents’ was met with a curt letter of refusal and a cheque, which Celeste would love to have not cashed on principle, but she couldn’t afford principles right now. Although she’d have loved to splurge and get her hair cut and buy something fantastic and non-essential for the baby, instead she trimmed her hair with the kitchen scissors, bought another two boxes of nappies and paid two months’ rent in advance, then crawled back into bed and carried on missing Ben.

And she did miss him.

Missed him more than she had Dean. Which made no sense, but it was how it was. Over and over she took out the memory of his kiss and explored it, remembered the moment that had ended them—and she wished she’d never tasted him, never been held by him, had never kissed him, because in that moment she’d glimpsed a different world. With just one kiss he’d shown her how good life could be—and then he’d ripped it away.

She thought about ignoring the knock at the door—but not for long. Maybe it was her parents to say they’d changed their minds, or the postman, or maybe, just maybe…

It was Ben.

‘I hope I didn’t wake you,’ he said.

‘You didn’t.’

‘And I’m sorry to drop round…’ His four-wheel drive was purring behind him, the engine still going, no doubt ready to make a quick escape.

‘It’s fine.’

Ben wasn’t finding this easy. The whole day hadn’t been easy, in fact—but it was something he had promised, something he had to do. ‘I went over to my sister’s to get the car seat for you.’

‘Oh!’

‘Look.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t want to offend you, so say if you don’t want them, really, you just have to say. But she gave me a few things…a crib, a stroller, one of those jogging ones…’

‘Do I have to promise to take up jogging?’ she asked.

‘No…’ Despite the strained circumstances, she still made him smile.

‘Only I might get challenged under the Trade Descriptions Act if I’m seen with it,’ she teased.

‘It’s good for walking on the beach too,’ Ben said. ‘Well, according to my sister.’

She couldn’t joke any more, really she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a question of being too proud to accept help, it was more that she’d had none, well, apart from her parents’ cheque. But this was real help and real thought and that it came from him made it as bitter as it was sweet.

‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely.

‘Do you want me to bring it in?’ He gestured to the vehicle behind him and she said thank you again, her nose a bit red from trying not to cry.

She offered to help, but he shooed her away and she sat on the sofa as a lot of wishes were granted—just not the one she wished for the most, because he couldn’t even look at her, Celeste noticed. Oh, he was kind and helpful and set up the crib and accepted a glass of iced tea while Celeste opened bag after bag, smiling at teeny tiny baby socks.

For Ben it was a nightmare.

All these things had been promised for him and Jen—the crib he was setting up now he hadn’t got to do four years ago. The little socks and vest Celeste was holding up made him sweat, and even driving here had been hard, with an empty baby seat in the back…

Still, she needed it and he never would—it was stupid to let it go to waste and he had promised her the car seat that night.

That
night.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ he said gruffly. It was almost more than he could stand to be in the room, surrounded by baby things, her home set up and almost ready now…almost more than he could stand to look at her, because she looked
terrible
!

So terrible, in fact, that he wanted to scoop her up and run—wanted someone to notice just how unwell this woman was. Where the hell were her parents?