A Family Worth Waiting For: The Midwife's Miracle Baby

Campbell resisted the urge to pull her close. She smelt fantastic and the feel of her skin beneath his hands was glorious. They stood stock still while the hubbub of hospital life went on around them. She looked at him through sleep-hazed eyes, her lips parted, strands of her dark hair stuck to her lipstick.

‘Can I do something for you?’ he asked quietly, brushing the stray hairs from her mouth with one finger.

Yes. Pick me up and carry me away from here to a big nice soft bed somewhere and lie with me. Claire didn’t know if lack of sleep was making her delirious, but suddenly a solution to her earlier problem was standing right in front of her.

‘Do you mean that?’ Some of the fog was clearing from her brain.

‘Sure.’

‘Are you? I know we didn’t exactly part under the best of circumstances the other day …’

‘I’m an adult, Claire. I can take it. What do you need?’

‘A favour would be great.’

‘Anything.’

‘No strings?’ This time she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

‘Of course!’ His insulted look was rather endearing. ‘Are you going to be at work all day?’

‘Until about five.’

‘Can I crash at your place?’

‘Uh … sure.’ Confusion furrowed his brow. ‘Why? I mean, what’s wrong with your place?’

‘My dad has a poker game at our house every Monday morning. If I’m home, sleeping, he’ll be stressing out about being quiet. I don’t want to spoil his fun.’

‘I knew I loved poker for a reason.’ He grinned and fished his keys out of his pocket.

‘It’s just for five or six hours. I’ll be gone by the time you get home.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘I will be gone, Campbell.’

‘I know. I know.’

* * *

Claire let herself into Campbell’s apartment and rang home straight away. She informed her father of her whereabouts and that she’d be home later in the afternoon. He seemed quite pleased by the arrangement. No doubt, all part of his push to have her get out more.

Zombie-like, Claire got in and out of the shower and quickly towelled herself dry on one of Campbell’s fluffy towels. It was kind of bizarre, being here again after all that had happened between them.

She could have picked up the phone and dialled a handful of friends who would have been only too happy to oblige and give her a bed for the day. Why ask Campbell? The one person she should be keeping her distance from?

Because he’d been right there when the idea had come to her. He had been the quickest, easiest and most convenient person to ask. No wasting time, ringing around. Just a quick request and a quick answer. Tired minds didn’t always come up with the wisest ideas!

Plus, geographically, his place was the closest. It hadn’t even taken her ten minutes to get here. When bone-deep tiredness had you in its grip, a long car trip could end in disaster.

Claire briefly debated where to sleep. Campbell had a guest bedroom, she should use that. But as she stood in his doorway, his king-sized bed beckoned. The bed where she had slept with him only a few nights before. It was unmade, the sheets twisted, the pillows skew. She could almost picture him in it. Maybe if she’d been less tired and had had greater capacity to think rationally, she’d have chosen the guest room, but his bed was just too tempting to ignore.

As her head hit his pillow, she wondered fleetingly at the wisdom of being naked in his bed. But she was going to be out of here before he got home. Besides, she was too tired to move now. And the pillow smelt so-o-o good. It smelt like man. It smelt like Campbell.

* * *

For a day that had started out as bleakly as Campbell’s, it had improved rapidly. Just the thought of Claire in his bed was enough to keep a smile permanently plastered on his face. Campbell’s behaviour was enough, without gossip from William Casey, to confirm to all and sundry at St Jude’s that he had indeed made progress with Sister West.

Campbell was sure he even saw money exchange hands on some of his rounds. It seemed his frivolity, along with the idiotic grin that he didn’t seem to be able to shift, was enough to declare him the winner. Given that the opposite was true, he knew Claire would be furious, but he was just too damned happy to care at the moment.

He tried really hard all day not to fantasise about her asleep in his bed. And not to speculate about what she was wearing, because that led to images of a naked Claire and he really couldn’t concentrate on his job. At all.

And he had to keep reminding himself that she had insisted she wasn’t going to be there when he got home. Still, at least he could lie down where she’d been and smell her scent once again. It had started to fade from his sheets.

Campbell had a morning theatre list, which he whistled his way through. It was amazing he didn’t accidentally incise something he wasn’t supposed to, given how shot his concentration was. Luckily, they were procedures he could perform with his eyes closed.

The last op was a Caesarean for transverse foetal position. This scenario was a no-brainer for Campbell. Babies lying sideways across the uterus couldn’t be born any other way. He tugged the wet and slippery baby from the safety of her mother’s womb and was pleased to hear the little girl wail heartily at the intrusion.

He held the baby up over the top of the drape so her parents could grab a quick look before a nurse whisked her off to check her over. She returned the precious package to the parents a few minutes later, wrapped up as snug as a bug in a rug. Baby Anne looked very content, Campbell thought as he prepared to close the surgical incision.

He tried to tackle some paperwork at lunchtime but instead daydreamed about Claire and subsequently got nothing much achieved.

His afternoon clinic commenced at two and was filled with the usual antenatal checks. Weight, urine, baby’s position, foetal growth and heartbeat.

He’d finished for the day and was signing his name to the last chart when Andrea popped her head in.

‘Sorry, Campbell, I’ve just had a call from Hillary Beetson.’

‘Do I know her?’ Campbell searched his memory bank unsuccessfully.

‘No. She’s one of Martin’s patients, but everyone has left for the day and you’re on call. She’s just rung to say she hasn’t felt the baby move all day. I told her to come straight up and you could squeeze her in.’ She ended with a sweet, pleading look, handing Hillary’s chart to him.

‘How many weeks?’

‘Thirty-six.’

Despite Campbell’s urge to make a quick getaway, he knew he had to see this client. ‘Let me know when she gets here,’ he sighed, thumbing through the chart.

The scenario was common enough. As the pregnancy reached its advanced stages and the foetus grew larger, there was less and less room for the baby to move. Decreased foetal movements were common in the last few weeks and usually meant nothing.

But Campbell also knew that it couldn’t be ignored. An intra-uterine death at this late stage was unlikely but it was one of the more sinister possibilities. He pushed fantasies of Claire at home in his bed to one side and focused.

Five minutes later Andrea informed him that his patient had arrived.

‘Afternoon, Hillary,’ he greeted her confidently, introducing himself.

‘Hi,’ she said. She looked anxious and Campbell pulled up a chair beside his patient, hoping to allay her fears.

‘Andrea tells me you haven’t felt the baby move today.’

‘That’s right, I only realised a little while ago I haven’t felt any movements since last night. It’s usually so active but I’ve been so busy today …’ she replied softly, obviously worried. ‘What does that mean?’