AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She lifts her gaze to mine, and stiffens. “I don’t want anything from you.”
I lean forward and put my mug on the table, then sit forward, elbows on my knees, and link my fingers. “That’s your prerogative, and I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But if I am the father, I have a vested interest in your health and the health of the baby, and I hope you’ll accept that.” I frown. “And also, if I came across any pregnant woman who was alone and without support, I like to think I’d help her out, and that she wouldn’t be too proud to accept it, for the baby’s sake, if nothing else.”
She puts her coffee mug on the table, then picks at her fingernails again, eyes downcast.
I note that she’s not wearing any jewelry, and that reminds me. “By the way, I have something of yours.” I extract my keys from my trouser pocket, then lean forward as I turn the keys, finding the item I want.
Taking the silver shamrock in my fingers, I carefully move the loop through the metal ring until it comes off. Then I put it on my palm and hold it out to her. “I’m sorry, I took off the earring hook. Do you still have the other one?”
She stares at it and gives a small nod.
“If you’d like to bring it in, I’ll get them both put onto matching hooks for you.”
Without taking it, she lifts her gaze to mine. “You kept it all this time?”
I shrug. “It reminded me of you.”
With a shaking hand, she reaches out and takes it. She turns it over in her fingers. Her bottom lip trembles. Then she covers her face with a hand and bursts into tears.
“Ah, shit.” I can’t do anything right this morning. I get up and drop to my haunches in front of her. “Hey, come on. It’s okay.”
“I never cry,” she squeaks through heartfelt sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s the baby hormones.” One thing that I’ve learned over the past year or so of learning about IVF and pregnancy is what a toll the roller coaster of hormones can have on a woman.
I think of the fact that she moved all the way to Wellington, and she has no family and no friends to give her any support. My heart goes out to her. “Do you want a hug?”
She lowers her hand and looks at me with watery eyes. She seems surprised by my offer. I seem to remember back in July commenting that someone had done a real job on her. I have a nasty feeling that nobody has been kind to her for a very long time.
She doesn’t say yes, but her eyes answer for her. I move closer, then carefully put my arms around her.
She buries her face in the crook of my neck, and I feel her deep, shuddering breaths as she fights for control.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, rubbing her back. “Everything’s going to be all right. I think there’s an angel watching over you and the baby, don’t you? Someone made you come here today.”
That just makes her sob even louder, so I shut up and don’t say anything more. Despite her height and bump, she feels tiny and fragile in my arms, and I feel a surge of protectiveness that surprises me. I’m not sure if it’s connected to the fact that the baby might be mine, or if it’s just that I’m pleased to see her, and her sobs are breaking my heart.
Eventually, she quietens, and she draws back. Releasing her, I get up, go over to my desk, and take out a couple of serviettes I’ve chucked in there over the weeks after working lunches, and bring them back to her. She blows her nose and wipes her cheeks as I sit back in the chair opposite her.
“The earrings are obviously precious to you,” I say. They must have sentimental value, because they only look like silver, unless they’re white gold, and even then that wouldn’t make them expensive.
“They were my mum’s,” she whispers.
Were, as in her mum gave them to her? Or were, as in her mother is no longer here? Looking at her watery eyes, I decide not to ask right now.
I glance at my watch—it’s getting close to nine a.m., and I can’t afford to miss my call with Titus in England. “I’ve got a busy morning, as you heard,” I say, “but I could come by your house and pick you up at lunchtime, and we could talk some more?”
She gives me a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I’ll be working next door, won’t I?”
“It’s all right, we’ll find someone else to cover.”
Her brows draw together. “Saxon, I need the money.” She swallows hard, and I can see it takes a lot for her to beg, “Please don’t send me home.”
I run my tongue across my top teeth. I’d happily write her a check right now so she can pay off any debt, fill her cupboards, and get whatever else she needs for both her and the baby, but I know I’m going to have to work hard to get her to take any money from me.
“All right,” I tell her, “as long as you feel okay.”
“I’m fine. Sorry I look bedraggled. It’s not a great advert for your company, I know. I’ll make more of an effort tomorrow.”
