Yesterday's Bride. Alison Kelly

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      Taylor pulled her daughter into a fierce hug, silent tears scalding paths down her face and her body trembling, as despair clawed her heart.

      What had happened to them? What the hell had happened to the all-consuming love they’d shared? And when, dear lord, when would she stop feeling its loss?

      It was well after midnight before Craig had the luxury of removing his tie and stretching out in his favourite reclining chair. He sighed wearily, lifting the glass of bourbon to his lips and savouring its soothing warmth.

      His dinner meeting had gone on far longer than he’d anticipated or wanted. He allowed himself a smile as he ruefully admitted that part of the reason had been his inability to keep his mind on what was being discussed. If Taylor had consented to seeing him tonight, he’d have cancelled the engagement without a second thought. Considering the way the events of the day had distracted him from the business at hand, he would have been best served to have done so, regardless! His mind had been constantly sidetracked from the topic under discussion by images of a beautiful, green-eyed, honey-haired woman.

      Taylor was back. Sexier and more beautiful than ever. And with her she’d brought a small, almost porcelain fragile, child who by rights should never have survived beyond a few days of life. He shivered as an image of his daughter’s face imprinted itself in his mind. His daughter. The reason Taylor had walked out on him.

      He took another sip of his drink, wondering if the confused emotions he felt towards the child were genuine or simply a side-effect of those he felt for her mother. And what exactly was he feeling?

      Guilt? Yeah. Well, sure. He’d always felt he’d failed Taylor in some way from the moment she’d suggested they consider having a child, but suddenly the guilt felt different. Fresher, more biting.

      His anger was nothing new; it had remained just below the surface of his day-to-day existence for the past five years. He’d never been sure if the bulk of it was directed at Taylor for walking out or himself for letting her. He also allowed himself to admit that until today a huge chunk of it had been focused on Melanie.

      Melanie. Until scant hours ago, he’d rarely thought of the child and never by name. It had been the easiest way of managing the gut-wrenching jealousy that consumed him. Jealousy.

      God! Yet another ugly emotion he’d fallen victim to, made worse by the fact it had been directed towards a tiny premature baby. The notion left a sick taste in his mouth and he quickly poured himself another drink, tossing it down in one gulp. Sighing, he contemplated the empty glass. For five years his life had been equally empty. Ever since the love Taylor always claimed was exclusively his had been redirected.

      If she’d turned her affection to another man, Craig knew he’d have fought tooth and nail to win her back; he was cocky enough to believe no man was capable of taking her from him. But he hadn’t counted on losing her to a baby. How did a grown man compete with a helpless child? Of course, back then he’d never really tried to compete; shattered by the discovery he’d been relegated to a distant second on Taylor’s list of priorities, it had been easier to simply let her go.

      And now? Well, now she was back. He didn’t delude himself it was because she loved him—oh, no. It was maternal love that had prompted her to introduce him to his daughter. And neither did he delude himself he could forgive her for deliberately falling pregnant, but he sure as hell intended to make amends for the way he’d held the child responsible for what had happened between them.

      There was an unaffected honesty about Melanie that intrigued him and he had little doubt he’d grow to like the child. To be honest, he hoped she’d grow to like him, too, for reasons other than the fact he was her father. But he knew he had no love to give his daughter; her mother had that and she always would. It was his trust Taylor had forfeited.

      He might never have wanted to be a father, but he sure as hell was going to be one now.

      Strangely, having made that decision eased some of the tension from his body. Then again, he thought drily, perhaps it was simply the Jack Daniel’s kicking in. Pouring another glass, he forced his mind to that part of his life he normally only confronted in nightmares—The Past....

      

      In the sterile surrounds of the hospital waiting room, Craig’s hand shook as he took the polystyrene cup from Taylor’s closest friend, Liz O’Shea. Emotional turmoil made him oblivious to the hot liquid that spilled onto his hand.

      ‘Why, Liz? Why did she have to go and put herself at risk like this? I never wanted or needed a baby. She knew that! But I can’t live without her. I can’t live without Taylor!’

      ‘Craig, her doctor is the best. She’s in good hands. There’s not a thing on God’s earth you can do now except wait.’

      It had seemed like a lifetime later that Craig looked up and saw the obstetrician striding towards them.

      ‘Well?’ he demanded of the older man. ‘Where is she? What’s happened?’

      ‘She’s resting, Mr Adams. But things aren’t good.’

      ‘What do you mean, aren’t good? If anything—’

      ‘Mr Adams, your wife is in labour.’

      ‘But it’s too early!’

      ‘Taylor has a condition called placenta previa, caused by—’

      ‘I don’t give a stuff what it’s called or what causes it! I want to know if she’s going to be all right!’

      ‘I expect so, yes. But your wife is going to have to remain here. It’s the baby we need to concern ourselves with—’

      ‘Forget the baby! It’s Taylor I care about. You put her first!’ He grabbed the front of the doctor’s coat. ‘You understand me? It’s Taylor who’s important here!’

      ‘For heaven’s sake, Craig! Pull yourself together and listen!’ Liz urged, shaking his arm.

      Realizing what he was doing, Craig released the doctor’s coat and stepped away.

      ‘I...I’m sorry, Doctor. It’s just that if anything happened...’

      The doctor’s face relaxed. ‘Believe me, I do understand.’

      ‘So,’ Craig said wearily, ‘what’s the bottom line in all this?’

      ‘Your wife is in labour at twenty-five weeks along. Far, far too early. However, if we can keep the baby at bay until even twenty-seven weeks, I’ll be a lot happier. I’ve made arrangements to have the baby transferred to the hospital with the best antenatal facilities in the city as soon as it’s born. But I’ll be honest with you. Even then, the child’s chances of survival aren’t good.’

      ‘Taylor is your first priority,’ Craig reminded him.

      From then on, Craig haunted the hospital, going home only to shower, change and snatch a few hours’ sleep. Twice more he had to stand helplessly by as Taylor again went into labour despite all the drugs administered to forestall such occurrences and the millions of dollars’ worth of equipment monitoring both her and her unborn child. He watched, too, as she endured painful steroid injections aimed at accelerating the unborn child’s lung capacity, physically flinching when agony distorted her beautiful face and squeezed tears from her exhaustion-glazed eyes. When he voiced his feelings about how much it hurt him to watch her suffer, Taylor gave a weak smile and clutched his hand.

      ‘Darling, every bit of prodding, poking and pain is worth it, if it delays delivery. The doctors said if I can hang in for two more weeks, our baby will have a much better chance of surviving.’ Fierce determination lit her weary features. ‘I’m going to do it, Craig. I have to.’

      And she did, just. Exactly fourteen days after her admission, Taylor went into labour for the final time, haemorrhaging heavily, but Craig wasn’t with her, and by the time he reached the hospital, Taylor was undergoing an emergency Caesarean, and a short time later he learned he was the father