Found: His Family. Nicola Marsh
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the sudden realisation that even if he was compatible, that even if Toby underwent every form of life-saving treatment known to man he could still die hit home with the force of a hurricane with the potential to leave as much devastation in its wake.
‘Right. Let’s get this underway, then.’
If the doctor had appeared cold and detached before, he seemed positively frosty now. Must be his way of distancing himself in a world filled with bad news and worse.
‘You OK?’ Jed turned to Aimee as her hand fluttered nervously near her face, pushing a frizzy blonde strand out of her eyes, determined to show she wasn’t intimidated despite the solemnity of the occasion.
He’d always admired that about her, her ability to take on anyone and anything. Bold, brash and undeniably feisty, his Aimee had been a woman going places. Unfortunately, she wasn’t ‘his Aimee’ any longer and the only place they were both going for the next few months was straight to a living hell.
‘Yeah, how about you?’
‘I can do without the whole needle thing but I’m OK.’
Her lips twitched in a small, tight smile, drawing his attention to their shape, their fullness, reminding him how they had once contoured to his so perfectly. Before he felt like an absolute bastard for remembering something like that when Toby’s life was at stake.
‘Still don’t like needles, huh?’
‘I’ll survive,’ he said, wanting to kick himself for his poor choice of words as her mouth drooped and she paled.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘If you’ll follow me, we can get started.’ The doctor bustled back in the room, preventing him from trying to make up for that horrible gaffe. Though what could he do—take it back?
Hell. He hadn’t even met Toby yet and he was already bumbling along like a loser. What hope did he have?
‘Come on.’ Aimee stood up, her movements stiff and jerky, and before he knew what was happening the doctor had ushered them out the door and into the cold, sterile corridor that led to a waiting room jam-packed with people. People with pale faces, worried faces, people hoping for a miracle just as they were.
‘He’s going to be OK. We have to believe that,’ she said, her voice so soft he had to lean forward to catch her words, as if she was reciting an often practised mantra.
This was crazy.
A few hours ago he’d been a guy on top of the world, Australia’s answer to Jamie Oliver, whipping up gourmet meals in his award-winning restaurant in Sydney while hosting his own TV series on a weekly basis. A guy who enjoyed life, who valued fine food, good wine and cherished his private down-time when he loved to sail. A guy who’d been looking forward to catching up with an old flame, curiosity quickening his heartbeat in anticipation as to why she’d wanted to see him.
Now all that had changed. That carefree guy had become a father, a father of a sick child, and nothing would ever be the same again.
‘Your strength is amazing,’ he said, wanting to cup Aimee’s cheek, to savour the soft skin beneath his palm but unable to broach the huge emotional gap between them. That comforting hug back at the shop had only served to push them further apart; he’d been annoyed for being a softie when his anger was still raw and she’d looked downright uncomfortable. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re spot on. Toby’s going to be all right.’
He has to be, for all our sakes.
Her eyes misted but she didn’t cry, the gold flecks shining through her unshed tears, her bravery setting a clamp around his heart and squeezing, hard.
‘Yes, he’s going to be all right,’ she echoed, staring at him with fervent hope in her eyes, as he wished he had half her conviction.
Aimee slipped into Toby’s room while Jed underwent testing, being careful not to wake her sleeping son. She tiptoed across the faded linoleum floor imprinted with bunnies, wrinkling her nose at the pungent disinfectant smell so characteristic of hospitals. She hated it. Give her the smell of warm chocolate, cinnamon and baking any day.
Reaching his bedside, she stood over her beautiful son, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the dark blonde hair plastered to his scalp in messy whorls, his long eyelashes casting shadows against his pale cheeks. Swaddled in sheets, he looked so small, so helpless. So sick.
Toby had rarely been ill over the last five years, apart from a bout of chickenpox as a toddler and the occasional cold. He was a strong, resilient boy who loved to run along St Kilda beach, kicking his feet through the sand and frolicking in the waves during summer. He’d climb anything, jump off anything, his daredevil attitude leaving her with her heart in her mouth on several occasions.
But nothing like this.
Nothing like this totally useless feeling that consumed her, that ate away at her till she wanted to scream. Her son could be dying and there wasn’t one darn thing she could do about it.
Though contacting Jed had been proactive even if it was the last thing she’d wanted to do. She didn’t want him in her life, in Toby’s life. It could only lead to pain and disappointment and she’d already been there, done that.
Jed wasn’t a family man. He didn’t know the meaning of the word, while she’d raised Toby, built a flourishing business and created a comfortable home for them.
Uh-uh, there was no room for Jed in their lives yet fate had changed all that, had taken away her options.
And now he was here, bristling with anger, blaming her when he had no right. He’d given up his rights the minute he’d walked away from her without looking back.
Though at least he’d come when she’d asked and that had to count for something. Not only that, but she’d also seen him push aside his own feelings and concentrate on Toby, the son he’d just discovered. It took a big man to do that and, despite her own twisted bitterness towards him for ruining their future and breaking her heart in the process, she had to admire him for standing up when it counted.
Toby stirred, his head thrashing from side to side as if he was trapped in a nightmare. Her heart clenching with fear at the real, live nightmare they all faced over the next few months, she leaned forward, smoothed his brow and dropped a light kiss on his clammy forehead.
‘I love you, Tobes,’ she murmured, inhaling his little-boy smell the way she had used to when he was a baby, savouring their closeness, thanking God that he’d come into her life.
He snuffled and turned onto his side, snuggling into the blankets, a small smile playing around his mouth.
Yes, he was definitely a precious miracle she was thankful for every day. Now, if only Jed was compatible, the treatment worked and Toby lived the long, happy life he deserved, that would be a true miracle indeed.
Stifling the sob that rose in her throat, she swiped at her tears and crept from the room.
And walked straight into the man who held Toby’s life in his hands.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘TOBY’s sleeping,’ Aimee said, her gaze fixed on Jed’s lapels.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, not with the strange fluttering in her belly that began the minute he’d steadied her, his hands warm and firm against her bare upper arms. Darn it, she remembered that feeling all too well, the buzz of being held by him, the yearning to get closer.
But what was the deal now? Those feelings were long gone. She’d seen to that with the many nights she’d spent talking to the baby she carried, focusing on the new life growing inside her rather than the guy who’d helped create it. Being pregnant had been a godsend, channelling all her energy into a positive outcome rather than the assured pity party she would’ve thrown had she returned to Melbourne alone and broken-hearted.
‘Is