Their Mistletoe Baby Read online

  ‘Thanks for the lift.’ All she wanted to do was climb into her bed and alternately thank her lucky stars and feel sorry for herself. Today had brought back a lot of unhappy memories and worry, not to mention the overwhelming relief to still be coming home as a mother-to-be. The effort of it all had left her bone weary.

  ‘I told you, you don’t have to go through this on your own.’ There was still no sign of any emotional attachment beyond his sense of obligation and even if there had been it would take a lot for her to believe in him again.

  By the time she’d got out of the car he’d already opened the front door. She’d forgotten he still had a key. In the naive hope he’d arrive home during those early days of his absence she’d been afraid to change the locks. Now it seemed as though he was quite happy to waltz in as though nothing had happened and take over. She wasn’t up for another fight but Lucas pretending he wanted to be part of this was just as bad as not having him in her life, if not worse. It certainly wouldn’t make him love her any more—in fact, he’d probably come to resent her for trapping him into a relationship of sorts.

  ‘I am in this on my own. I have been for quite some time in case you’ve forgotten.’ She pushed past him into the house they’d once shared, not really prepared for the sight of him here again in very different circumstances from those she’d ever imagined.

  ‘There’s nothing I can do to change the past but I will be here for you and the baby if you’ll let me. I know that neither of us planned this, but you still need to take it easy and I’m looking for a place to stay, so this seems like the ideal solution to me.’ He tossed his keys onto the table in the hallway just as he always had, so casually an outsider would’ve sworn he’d never been away. If she’d stockpiled the forest’s worth of handkerchiefs she’d cried into, they would tell a different story, but she’d long since picked herself back up and no longer lay around waiting for him to save her from her misery.

  ‘That all sounds very practical but I can manage. This doesn’t have to affect you at all.’ Today had been a wake-up call. She didn’t need stress in her life and that included dealing with an ex who’d never wanted to be a father. The baby came first and she was planning on taking some sick leave until the danger period had passed and even then she might cut back her hours.

  Lucas plumped up some of the cushions on the couch and guided her towards a seat, as though he’d just started working in an old people’s home. This wasn’t the heart-warming return of her husband she’d once dreamed of—it was an act of pity.

  ‘I couldn’t be more affected. I’m going to be a father.’ He waited until she sat down before he presented his argument. Although he didn’t raise his voice, the furrow in his forehead and the careful delivery of his words had her flinching all the same.

  In all the scenarios she’d run in her head this wasn’t how she’d imagined he would find out either. A threatened miscarriage had barely given him time to get used to the idea of becoming a father before all hell had broken loose. Still, she didn’t want the drama to cloud his judgement on the matter when he’d been so adamant he hadn’t wanted to start a family with her.

  ‘You don’t have to be. I was fully prepared to do this on my own. Just walk away and forget about it. You’re good at that.’ Now the immediate threat of losing her baby had passed, she was preparing to go into emotional lockdown again. There was no point in letting him get close again, only for him to run when he realised this life wasn’t for him. The next time there’d be more than her feelings hurt.

  Instead of storming out and slamming the door behind him, which she’d expected and almost hoped for, he sat down on the seat beside her. ‘I haven’t behaved well towards you, I know that, but I want to make it up to you. I can take you to appointments, help get the house ready for the little one coming, pay the bills, do all the things a partner should do.’

  Except love her. That was something that he couldn’t seem to force himself to do. She didn’t want to play house. It would be too painful when she couldn’t have him in her life as more than an obligated father to her baby.

  ‘All the things I can do on my own.’ It wasn’t going to be easy but she would manage somehow. Time and again she’d found out the hard way she couldn’t rely on anyone except herself.

  ‘This house is still half mine, Freya. I could just move back but I want us to work together as a team on this. Look, I’ll move out once the baby’s safely here if that’s what you want. Just let me help.’ There was probably a legal argument against it since he’d effectively abandoned her and said ‘house’ but she knew it was only a matter of time before she caved. Partly because he looked so utterly adorable and sincere but mostly because deep down she knew that was what she wanted.

  ‘I’m tired and I’m scared, Lucas. If I agree to this it’s only for the baby’s sake. You don’t get to interfere in my life. Think of it as a supporting role rather than the lead man.’ She needed to protect herself emotionally if they were going to be under the same roof again. They needed clear boundaries so they didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past and she could protect what was left of her shattered heart.

  ‘That’s fine with me.’

  She’d known it would be. After all, it wasn’t really her he felt duty-bound to protect. If that had been the case, he would’ve come back long ago. Her vision blurred with tears and she knew she had to leave before she frightened him off again with actual feelings.

  ‘You know where the spare room is.’ He was a lodger now and it was best she start to see him that way. Which might be easier if she moved all his things out of the bedroom they’d once shared. His shirts still hung in the closet for the same reason she’d never changed the locks: she’d still held out that hope for a reconciliation. Just not one like this—where he’d been trapped into it and she was as unhappy and lonely as ever.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve made you some vegetable soup and crusty bread. There’s even some chocolate cake for dessert.’ Lucas balanced the tray on one hand whilst he knocked gently on Freya’s door and tried to coax her out with some comfort food.

  She needed plenty of bed rest but it wouldn’t be healthy for her to confine herself completely to her room if he moved in. He wanted one last chance to prove how much he loved her and to make a go of their marriage, but she was so fragile at the minute, and skittish around him, he didn’t want to push her. After everything he’d done she had no reason to trust him but he would be here for her in whatever capacity she would have him. Even if it was only as a chauffeur or home help. Anything was better than spending the rest of his days without her in his life.

  ‘Thanks.’ She opened the door wide enough to take the tray and for him to see how pale she was, defying the idea of that mythical pregnancy bloom.

  ‘Are you okay? You’re not queasy or having pains again?’ He hoped she would tell him if that was the case but since she hadn’t seen fit to even confide in him about the pregnancy he wasn’t so sure.

  ‘No. Just tired.’ It was obvious the attempt at a smile was for his benefit, to get him off her back, but it only managed to deepen his frown. The lack of communication and fractured trust was a side effect, not merely from his illness but also from his continued mishandling of their relationship. In trying to control the situation and prevent the worst from happening, he’d steered them into an even bigger mess. If he didn’t want to end up a replica of his father he was going to have to step up and fix things, instead of leaving them to fester out of control.

  Which was difficult to do when he was staring at the closed door again, Freya having retreated into her cave with her food like some sort of frightened animal.

  He rested his forehead on the cool wood, trying to come up with a solution. As a doctor it was his job to treat the symptoms of an illness but this was about much more than a physical ailment. Freya was unhappy and frightened about the future. He needed so
mething to convince her she could trust him to be there for her and there was one obvious treatment to help get her back to her happy, smiling best. Christmas.

  It was only a couple of weeks away, and though he was happy to let the season pass him by without as much as writing a card, Freya in December without tinsel was like Lapland without snow. It simply wasn’t the same.

  * * *

  Lucas wrestled the Christmas tree into a bucket in the middle of the living room, sweat running down his back and pine needles pricking every inch of available skin. It had been the biggest, bushiest tree on the lot and he’d picked it specifically because of its close resemblance to those they’d seen in Lapland. Now he’d cut it free of its bindings and the limbs had sprung free, he wondered if he’d been too sentimental in his choice. Although Freya had always insisted there could be no such thing as over-enthusiasm at Christmas, it wouldn’t come as any surprise if he’d discover a family of woodland animals living in the swaying branches of this majestic beauty. It would certainly make an impact on Freya and that was all he wanted.

  His single begrudged contribution during their one Christmas together here had been the heavy lifting of decorations from the attic, so he continued his quest there. One by one he carried the boxes of Freya’s treasured baubles down the ladder and into the living room, with a greater deal of optimism than the last time. By that stage he’d already been struggling to come to terms with the news of his father’s death and questioning his own suitability as a family man. It was ironic now that impending fatherhood should bring him back.

  He didn’t know what kind of dad he was going to make, which was why he’d been afraid to take the risk of finding out. That decision had since been taken out of his hands. Even if he was financially supportive, or a physical presence in his child’s life, there was no guarantee he’d be able to give that emotional support he’d never received from his parents but he was certainly willing to try. The one thing he was certain of was that Freya would make the best mum. She simply needed a little help to enjoy the pregnancy.

  He ripped the tape off the boxes with an enthusiasm he’d never experienced around the season and it was all for her benefit. The amount of glittery fairies and snow-dusted teddy bears surrounding him was quite overwhelming but he vaguely remembered these were the ‘room’ decorations and set about filling every available furniture space with the oddities. The six-foot artificial pine tree lying in the corner of the attic with its bent branches and the remnants of a few broken ornaments still attached had seen better days. Although it confirmed he’d made the right decision in buying a real tree, images of Freya struggling up the ladder to pack away the decorations alone whilst he had been holed up in his friend’s apartment pricked his conscience.

  The uncared-for symbol of her emotions last year disturbed him more than the over-the-top nod to a childhood he’d only dreamed of ever could. He’d never understood the whole build-up to one day because he hadn’t experienced that excitement himself. It had just been the same as every other day in his house, only perhaps with added disappointment. Freya, on the other hand, craved it, or at least she had until he’d tainted the memory of it. She needed this more than ever.

  He was out of his depth in the tangle of fairy lights and tinsel but he draped them around the branches as best he could. It might not win any style awards but as he stood back to admire his handiwork he was quite proud of the display. Even he had to admit it brightened up an otherwise dull December day.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ a bemused Freya said from behind him.

  He stood aside so she could enjoy the full effect of his efforts. ‘Christmas isn’t far away. I thought we should put a few decorations up to mark the occasion.’

  ‘A few? It looks like an explosion in a tinsel factory.’ The corners of her mouth tilted up as she took in the scene and made it all worth it.

  ‘I thought that was the style you preferred?’ He risked a little teasing back, hoping to encourage her back to her usual sparky self.

  ‘Believe it or not, there is some order called for when it comes to Christmas decoration. Symmetry is usually a good place to start.’ Freya advanced towards the wonky tree and began to rearrange the ornaments and lights, which even Lucas had to agree he’d chucked on rather than placed with any sort of precision. The criticism didn’t bother him when it seemed he’d achieved the purpose of getting her to interact with the world outside her bedroom again.

  ‘You’re the expert. I’m still on the beginner’s level.’ In more areas than just tree decorating.

  ‘I can’t believe you went out and bought a real tree. You always complained about the mess they made...’

  He’d been in too much turmoil to be bothered with the hassle then but seeing her happy made a valuable argument for going to all the trouble.

  ‘I’m a different man from the one I was then. I wanted you to see that.’ Lucas wanted to show her he’d do anything to make her happy, that she could trust him again. More than that, he wanted to convince her this time he was back for good.

  * * *

  As she watched his attempt to decorate the tree, Freya wondered if it wasn’t doing her more harm than good to have Lucas here, pretending she could count on him. His gesture was so thoughtful it hurt but she kept asking herself why he would do such a thing if he was only here to save face. No one but the two of them would ever know he’d done this, not even the baby, unless they made it into an anecdote someday. Hope bubbled inside her that this was his way of proving his commitment to her with the one thing she loved almost as much as him.

  ‘You never did this with your mother?’ She handed him another box of decorations before she started blubbing again and he wouldn’t be able to distinguish her happy tears from all the rest.

  Of course she knew now of the strained relationship he’d had with his father but she’d heard nothing about his mother beyond the fact she’d abandoned him when he’d been little. It seemed almost Dickensian that no one should ever have shown him the simple joys of Christmas, such as hanging baubles on a tree or sledding down a hill in the snow, yet he was as awkward in these activities as she was enthusiastic.

  He paused as he hung the blue and white snowflake her gran had crocheted for her on his side of the tree.

  ‘I might’ve done when I was very young but I don’t remember much about her at all other than my father’s temper and drinking getting worse after she left.’ He shrugged his shoulders and continued to upset her sense of visual balance.

  It was no wonder she’d had such a hard time persuading him this was fun when the only memories he had associated with the season were probably tied to a sense of loss and gave his actions now more meaning than ever. He was doing this to give her something to look forward to, to take her mind off anything other than happy thoughts, even though it would be a huge personal challenge for him. He was putting her first.

  ‘Is that why you’re here now? For the baby?’ She wanted him to spell it out for her so there would be no misunderstanding on either side. If this was about proving himself and abandonment issues he’d never fully explored, she’d rather know upfront instead of waiting to find out eight months down the line and have her heart broken again. It was obvious to her she was still in love with him when it had hurt so much to see him today and that he was still the only one she’d wanted with her when she’d thought she was going to lose the baby. Then again, she’d never actually stopped loving him. She doubted she ever would.

  ‘I’m here for both of you.’ He reached over and gave her a half-hug, the first body contact they’d had since he’d comforted her in the hospital. It could’ve been her hormonal imagination but the gesture seemed to last longer than a mere show of solidarity ought to. There was time for his warmth to seep into her skin and somehow make her feel as though he really could protect her from all the bad stuff. When he did let go he kept his gaze ce
ntred on the tree rather than anywhere near her and she wanted to believe it was because he’d felt that connection again too. Just like the one they’d had in the igloo when their world had been each other and nothing else had mattered.

  ‘What’s this one? I don’t remember seeing this before.’ Lucas picked up the little porcelain angel that held so much importance to her.

  She could’ve played down its significance the way she’d done last year when she’d purposely left it in the box. By consigning her heartache to the past and focusing on a future, she’d believed they’d had, she’d thought she’d be able to move past the pain. The ensuing months of misery had shown her otherwise. Lucas had confronted his demons and it was about time she did the same.

  ‘I bought this for the baby I lost.’ She took the angel dangling from his index finger and hung it on the front of the tree, where she would see it every day.

  Lucas watched it swinging on the tree in a reverent silence that Freya appreciated. Not everyone around her had been as respectful of her loss at the time. As though the early miscarriage somehow hadn’t counted as the death of a child. It had felt traumatic enough to a young girl who’d been carrying the much-wanted baby.

  ‘Was it my fault? Did it happen when I left?’ he asked finally, clenching his hands into fists as he shared his unwarranted fears over something that had happened long before he’d ever been on the scene.

  Freya shook her head. ‘No. I was only eighteen when I fell pregnant the first time. We were engaged, I thought we were in love, but he ran out on me the second he found out. I don’t know if it was the stress that caused the miscarriage but I guess it was something I never really got over. In hindsight, perhaps my enthusiasm to start a family with you as soon as we were married was my way to get past the tragedy of losing my baby so young. I should never have rushed you into a place you weren’t ready to go.’

  ‘I wish you’d told me.’ The tenderness in his voice made her question her decision not to tell him from the start, but they’d both made mistakes in those early days of their marriage. With a baby on the way they were going to have to be more mature than ever about how they handled such important issues.