A Father This Christmas?. Louisa Heaton
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‘I see...’
‘Seb and I were just talking about lions. Apparently they’re his favourite animal.’
‘He loves lions.’
Jacob tilted his head at her curt tone, looking at her curiously. Then he asked Seb to put his head back against the pillow so that he could administer the glue. ‘Be brave, now—this might tingle a bit.’
Eva gripped her son’s hand tightly, smiling brightly into his face to encourage him to be brave.
He looked so like Jacob! Couldn’t Jacob see it? They both had the same almost black hair, slightly wavy. The same bright blue eyes...the same nose and mouth. It seemed that when genetics were being decided upon Mother Nature had decided to give Seb only his mother’s skin tone—very pale and creamy, with hints of pink in his cheeks. Apart from that, he was the spitting image of his father.
And this was not how she’d wanted Jacob to find out. She’d wanted to be able to tell him somewhere peaceful and neutral—perhaps the hospital grounds in a secluded corner? To buy him a coffee and ask him if he had time for a chat, and then slowly drip feed the information about what had happened after he left.
Not like this. Not in front of her son!
Seb winced as the glue went onto the edges of his wound and Jacob pinched them together to help them adhere.
‘You’re doing great, honey.’ Eva rubbed his hands in hers and wished she could take away the pain. The discomfort. Do what she could to make her son feel better.
‘I didn’t know you were a mother.’
She looked at Jacob quickly, and then away, guilt flooding her cheeks with heat. ‘No, well...things change.’
‘How old are you, Seb?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Three.’ Seb smiled. ‘It doesn’t hurt now.’
Jacob nodded and let go, and the wound’s edges stayed together. He pulled off his gloves and smiled. ‘There you go. It doesn’t need a plaster or anything. Just don’t get it wet. Well done, Seb! You’re very brave.’
Seb beamed with pleasure.
‘Can I take him home now?’ Eva started to gather her son’s things. His backpack had been put on the end of his bed, and his jacket.
‘He needs to stay here for an hour or two for observation. He has had a bump to the head.’
He was staring at her, his eyes full of questions.
He knows!
She had to get out of there! She did not want to have this conversation in front of Seb! She would not have this conversation in front of him. No. Not at all.
But he had to stay. For observation. Couldn’t she observe him at home? She was an A&E doctor after all...
‘May I have a word with you, Dr Corday?’
Oh, this is it. Here it comes...
‘Sure. But...um...later, maybe? I need to arrange cover if I’m going home.’
‘Could we talk now?’
She looked at Seb. Then back at Jacob.
‘Let me get him sorted first.’
She rummaged in his backpack and found his reading book. She passed it to him.
‘Have a read of your book, Seb. I’m just going to step outside the curtains and have a talk with Dr Dolan.’
Eva followed Jacob from the cubicle and went with him over to the quiet corner by the Christmas tree.
It looked beautiful this year. The team had really done themselves proud. For years they’d had a tired old fake tree that had been packed away each year in an old cardboard box, battered and unloved. But this year they had a real tree, beautifully decorated in gold and silver, with lots of pretend presents underneath.
Eva and Seb had been really looking forward to Christmas. This year it seemed Seb really understood what was going on, and what was happening, and the story of Santa Claus had got him so excited! They’d already put their own tree up at home.
But Eva wasn’t excited right now. She felt dread. And guilt. All those emotions she’d kept hidden away for years, since that first night with Jacob, neatly locked down, were now threatening to overwhelm her with their enormity.
She stood in front of Jacob like a naughty child before the headmaster. But then she thought about how he was guilty, too. About his part in all of this.
She squared her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. ‘Yes?’
‘You seem a little...distracted.’
She said nothing. Just stared at him. Waiting for the axe to fall.
‘Seb’s a great kid.’
‘He is. The best.’
‘You weren’t a mother when we met.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘No.’
‘But you are now. And he’s three?’
‘Yes.’
Jacob seemed to be mulling over his next words. Thinking about what he might say next. Whether she would rebut his words or accept them.
‘He looks like me.’
Eva stared deeply into his bright blue eyes...eyes so much like Seb’s. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—deny him the truth. He deserved that.
‘Yes.’
Jacob’s voice lowered. ‘Is he mine, Eva?’
Of course he’s yours! Surely it’s clear to everyone?
She wanted to yell. She wanted to confirm it to him angrily. Rage at him for all he’d put her through after he left. But she didn’t. She knew that could come later. Right now he just needed the plain facts.
‘Yes. Seb’s your son.’
He stood staring at her, his face incredulous.
The Christmas tree twinkled between them.
She couldn’t help but notice how his broad shoulders narrowed down into a neat, flat waist. How his expensively tailored trousers moulded his shape, his long, muscular legs. He looked mouth-wateringly good. The years he’d spent in Africa had obviously been good to him. He was vital and in peak condition.
Years before, when they’d met at that party, there’d been only hints of the man he was to become. But even then he’d been delicious... Now the heavier muscle and perfectly toned body looked amazing on him...
She swallowed hard.
All she’d known about him that night was his name and that he was going to work for some charity. That he was a doctor, like her, and was going to Africa. But just because that was what he’d said, she hadn’t been sure it was true. People lied. Especially at parties. To make themselves sound better or more interesting than they actually were.
Jacob. In her A&E. Standing there. As large as life. As gorgeous and as sexy as he’d ever been. A hundred times more so.
He was just staring back at her, his mouth slightly open, as if he’d had something he was about to say only it had never come out.
She couldn’t just stand there! Waiting for the axe to fall. To see his reaction. Waiting for him to reject them.
So Eva turned and headed in the opposite direction—back through the curtains of the cubicle that held her son.
Their son.
If she just accepted right now that Jacob wasn’t going to be sticking around—he was just a locum after all, here for the busy Christmas period—then it wouldn’t hurt