It had been as much as Em could do not to front the woman and slap her. It wouldn’t have been a good look on her wedding day—bride smacks mother-in-law—but she’d come awfully close. But Oliver had never talked of it.
It was only when the adoption thing had come up when Josh had died that the ghosts had come from nowhere. And she couldn’t fight them, for Oliver wouldn’t speak of them.
‘Oliver, we’re doing our best,’ she told him now, gentling, reminding herself that it was his ghosts talking, not him. She knew it was his ghosts, but she’d never been allowed close enough to fight them. ‘Mum and I are loving these kids to bits. We’re doing all we possibly can …’
‘It won’t be enough.’
‘Maybe it won’t.’ She was suddenly bone weary again. Understanding could only go so far. ‘But we’re trying the best that we can. We’ll give these kids our hearts, and if that’s not enough to let them thrive then we’ll be incredibly sad but we won’t be regretful. We have love to give and we’re giving it. We’re trying, whereas you … You lacked courage to even think about it. “No adoptions,” you said, end of story. I know your background. I know how hard it was for you to be raised with Brett but your parents were dumb and cruel. The whole world doesn’t have to be like that.’
‘And if you ever had a child of your own?’
‘You’re saying I shouldn’t go near Gretta or Toby because I might, conceivably, still have a child biologically?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He raked his hair again, in that gesture she’d known and loved. She had a sudden urge to rake it herself, settle it, touch his face, take away the pain.
Because there was pain. She could see it. This man was torn.
But she couldn’t help him if he wouldn’t talk about it. To be helped you had to admit you needed help. He’d simply closed off, shut her out, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She’d moved on, but he was still hurting. She couldn’t help him.
‘Go home,’ she said, gently again. ‘I’m sorry, Oliver, I have no right to bring up the past, but neither do you have a right to question what I’m doing. Our marriage is over and we need to remember it. We need to finalise our divorce. Meanwhile, thank you for tonight, for Adrianna’s birthday. I’m deeply appreciative, but if you want to pull out of Saturday’s childminding, I understand.’
‘I’ll be here.’
‘You don’t need to …’
‘I will be here.’
‘Fine, then,’ she said, and took a step back in the face of his sudden blaze of anger. ‘That’s good. That’s great. I’ll see you then.’
‘I’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow,’ he said. ‘With Ruby.’
And her heart sank. Of course. She was going to see this man, often. She needed to work with him.
She needed to ignore the pain she still saw in his eyes. She needed to tell herself, over and over, that it had nothing to do with her.
The problem was, that wasn’t Em’s skill. Ignoring pain.
But he didn’t want her interference. He never had.
He didn’t want her.
Moving on …
‘Goodnight, then,’ she managed, and she couldn’t help herself. She touched his face with her hand and then stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed him—a feather touch, the faintest brush of lips against lips. ‘Goodnight, Oliver. I’m sorry for your demons but your demons aren’t mine. I give my heart for always, non-negotiable, adoption, fostering, marriage … Ollie, I can no more change myself than fly. I’m just sorry you can’t share.’
And she couldn’t say another word. She was suddenly so close to tears that she pushed away and would have stumbled.
Oliver’s hand came out to catch her. She steadied and then brushed him off. She did it more roughly than she’d intended but she was out of her depth.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and turned away. ‘Goodnight.’ And she turned and fled into the house.
Oliver was left standing in the shadows, watching the lights inside the house, knowing he should leave, knowing he had to.
‘I give my heart for always.’
What sort of statement was that?
She’d been talking about the kids, he told himself, but still …
She’d included marriage in the statement, and it was a statement to give a man pause.
EM HARDLY SAW Oliver the next day. The maternity ward was busy, and when she wasn’t wanted in the birthing suites, she mostly stayed with Ruby.
The kid was so alone. Today was full of fill-in-the-blanks medical forms and last-minute checks, ready for surgery the next day. The ultrasounds, the visit and check by the anaesthetist, the constant checking and rechecking that the baby hadn’t moved, that the scans that had shown the problem a week ago were correct, that they had little choice but to operate … Everything was necessary but by the end of the day Ruby was ready to get up and run.
She needed her mum, a sister, a mate, anyone, Em thought. That she was so alone was frightening. Isla dropped in for a while. Ruby was part of Isla’s teen mums programme and Ruby relaxed with her, but she was Ruby’s only visitor.
‘Isn’t there anyone I can call?’ Em asked as the day wore on and Ruby grew more and more tense.
‘No one’ll come near me,’ Ruby said tersely. ‘Mum said if I didn’t have an abortion she’d wash her hands of me. She said if I stayed near her I’d expect her to keep the kid and she wasn’t having a thing to do with it. And she told my sisters they could stay away, too.’
‘And your baby’s father?’
‘I told you before, the minute I told him about it, he was off. Couldn’t see him for dust.’
‘Oh, Ruby, there must be someone.’
‘I’ll be okay,’ Ruby said with bravado that was patently false. ‘I’ll get this kid adopted and then I’ll get a job in a shop or something. I just wish it was over now.’
‘We all wish that.’
And it was Oliver again. He moved around the wards like a great prowling cat, Em thought crossly. He should wear a bell.
‘What?’ he demanded, as she turned towards him, and she thought she really had to learn to stop showing her feelings on her face.
‘Knock!’
‘Sorry.
