A Family Worth Waiting For. Josie Metcalfe

‘Wait? Maybe you didn’t need anything? Maybe you’ve come to wave the white flag and go out to dinner with me?’

      He laughed and she smiled despite the fog clogging her brain. He recovered easily after such a heavy conversation. He was too quick on his feet.

      ‘Sorry, just a signature,’ she said, handing him the document.

      ‘Alas,’ he mocked as he signed it and gave it back. ‘I haven’t forgotten your little challenge, Claire. In fact, I look forward to it.’

      ‘You’re wasting your time,’ she stated, more calmly than she felt, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

      She made her way back to the birth centre in a haze of mixed emotions. Something was happening to her which she couldn’t define. It was new and unwelcome and scary and all Campbell Deane’s fault!

      Before he’d come into her life she’d had clearly defined goals. Establish a birth centre. Make it strong and successful. Offer a real alternative to the women of Brisbane. Suddenly it didn’t feel enough. She wanted more.

      At least she now knew his views on genetic illness. He’d unwittingly given her the perfect weapon. All she had to do was tell him the truth and watch his interest die. See him run for the hills. Just like Shane.

      But she knew she wouldn’t. She’d made such a habit of concealing it she doubted she’d even know how to start. She didn’t want people to treat her differently. She might have to live with it hanging over her head but she refused to let this disease define her.

      It was her deep, dark, family secret. Her business and hers alone. And now, thankfully, a constant reminder to give Campbell Deane a wide berth.

       CHAPTER THREE

      WHEN Claire arrived at work the next morning a spectacular flower arrangement was waiting for her. ‘Let the games begin,’ she muttered to herself.

      They were absolutely gorgeous. Claire knew they would have cost Campbell a fortune, with exotics like sprigs of wattle, grevillia, bird of paradise and dried rosellas. She fingered the card. Her impulse was to throw it in the bin but curiosity overwhelmed her. That they were from him was a foregone conclusion, but what words had he used to woo her? Romantic? Poetic? Flowery?

      She glanced at the bold, black print. A gasp escaped involuntarily. Claire screwed it up and tossed it in her bin as if scalded.

      LET THE GAMES BEGIN.

      Was the man capable of reading her mind now? She didn’t like it that he’d chosen the same words she’d only just thought. She didn’t want to be on his wavelength.

      Claire reeled in her frantic thoughts. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. And if he thought that flowers would do it then he was sorely mistaken. Ignoring the part of her that loved, adored and appreciated things as beautiful as these flowers, she picked them up and marched them down to Obstetric Outpatients.

      She dumped them in Andrea’s arms, ignoring her surprise and curiosity. ‘This place could do with some nice flowers to make it a little less hospital-like. Shove these in a few vases, will you?’

      Andrea was well used to Claire’s private life being a taboo subject so she didn’t ask. They had become firm friends over the years despite Claire’s reticence over indulging too much personal information. Andrea knew that Shane had hurt her very badly, although Claire had never told her the reason for their break-up.

      Before she could change her mind and snatch them back, Claire turned abruptly and left a stunned-looking Andrea in her wake. Mission accomplished, she sat down at her desk to review her day. Her concentration, however, was shot by the lingering scent of wattle.

      ‘Who were the flowers from?’ asked Pauline, entering the room and sitting at her desk. She was the centre’s receptionist.

      ‘Someone who hasn’t got the message yet,’ said Claire, her voice shorter and sharper than Pauline deserved.

      ‘What did you do with them?’

      ‘I gave them to Andrea down in Outpatients. It’s too clinical-looking down there.’

      ‘Claire,’ Pauline said, with all the exasperated patience of someone who was well used to Claire’s rejection of men. ‘Next time, I’ll have them. We could do with some around here, too.’ Pauline laughed at Claire’s unimpressed look. ‘What poor man are you trying to annihilate with your rejection this time?’

      ‘I wouldn’t worry about this one. He’s got pretty thick skin.’

      ‘Pretty big wallet, too, judging by that bouquet.’

      She was right. Claire was beginning to regret her rash action. She had been too hell-bent on getting them as far away from her as possible to think very rationally. All she knew was that she’d desperately wanted to bury her head in them and inhale their bushy fragrance. And if she’d succumbed to that temptation, she doubted she’d have been able to give them away.

      And then they’d be sitting here on her desk, a constant reminder of him. He may as well be sitting on her desk because she knew that’s all she’d be able to see when she looked at them. His smiling face, his red-blonde hair flopping in his eyes. Eyes that sparkled green and were so easy to read. His impressive physique …

      She groaned and shook her head. No. She had done the right thing. Heaven knew, she was thinking about him enough now and the damn flowers were nowhere in sight. Despite her good intentions, too much of her time of late had been taken up by thoughts of Campbell. Her mind just kept wandering there of its own accord!

      She made a determined effort to put him from her head and mentally braced herself for the day. She crossed her fingers and hoped that their paths wouldn’t cross.

      A very expensive bunch of flowers was an impressive opening salvo in this cat-and-mouse game they were playing. It was certainly going to be followed up. Claire braced herself for that also.

      At ten o’clock Claire wandered into the radiology department and found Lex Craven sitting there, reading a magazine.

      ‘How are you, Lex? Ready to see your baby?’ Claire sat down beside her client.

      ‘I’m so excited. I can’t wait. I hope they’re not running too late, I’m sure my bladder’s going to burst any moment.’

      Claire laughed. A full bladder was required for the scan. It provided a clearer picture of the uterus and the baby within it. Patients were told to drink at least a litre of water prior to their appointment. A big ask for many pregnant women.

      Luck was on Lex’s side when they were ushered in five minutes later. The radiologist, Darren, gave Lex a gown to change into.

      ‘How’s that baby of yours coming along, Darren? He must be six months old by now,’ Claire asked. She had looked after Darren and his wife in Labour Ward and had delivered their son.

      ‘Six months tomorrow. Impressive recall, Claire.’

      Claire laughed. She did seem to have a photographic memory regarding the babies she had delivered. Claire was sure she could remember every baby she’d helped into the world. The moment of birth was so magical that each baby seemed to be indelibly imprinted into her memory bank. And if, occasionally, a birth did slip her mind, she only needed to refer to her scrapbook at home that had a picture and some basic information on all her deliveries. It was quite thick now, boasting over four hundred photos.

      Lex rejoined them and climbed up onto the narrow bed. Darren pressed some buttons on the machine while Claire helped prepare Lex, exposing what was necessary and keeping everything else covered. Darren flicked a switch and killed the overhead lights.

      ‘OK. Let’s start. Goo first,’ he said, squeezing a generous daub of the warmed gel onto Lex’s tummy. A bright glow emitted from the screen and three pairs of eyes