random and this is too important to leave to chance. I want the back-up of science and technology to maximise my chances of getting pregnant quickly. I’ll have ultrasounds, and thirty-six hours before the intra-uterine insemination, I’ll jab myself with follicle-stimulating hormone.’
His shoulders squared as they tightened with apprehension and his expression became serious once again. ‘So I travel to the IVF clinic in Tasmania to make my deposits?’
‘Yup. They have movies and magazines.’ She tried to lighten his mood. ‘That’s the fun part for you.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly, but we won’t go there. Why Tasmania?’
‘Privacy for both of us. The medical community here is too small and everyone knows everyone. Even if we went to Melbourne, we’d run into people from university. I’ll pay for your air fares and your time because I don’t want you embarrassed or compromised. I figured you could go down for a couple of weekends, enjoy a mini-break on the apple isle and bank a few deposits, so to speak.’
A grudging flash of admiration crossed his face. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’
She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘It’s all I’ve been thinking about for months.’
Thinking, dreaming and planning.
He nodded slowly, his expression contemplative, and he returned to the document.
Time slowed down to a crawl and she wished she could dive inside his head and see and hear exactly what he was thinking. Instead, she had to sit and wait. She was so used to being in charge at work that it didn’t sit easily.
‘They’ll freeze the sperm?’
‘Yes.’
His gaze bored into her. ‘And if you don’t get pregnant from my donations, what then?’
She chewed on her lip. ‘Would you be prepared to donate more?’
A long sigh rumbled out of him. ‘To be honest, George, I’m not even certain I want to do it once.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach sank as hope dribbled away. She now wished he’d just said no over the phone. She sat tracing the pool of condensation from her water that had dribbled down onto the tabletop.
Hamish leaned forward and stirred his coffee so hard that some splashed into the saucer. ‘I won’t have my name on the birth certificate,’ he muttered softly, ‘and I doubt you can get around that.’
His clipped words hammered her and she spoke quickly, leaping onto a spluttering kernel of hope, keen to allay his concerns. ‘You won’t be named. The one thing that Mum and Dad’s deaths has given me is financial security. When I add in my income, even though it will be reduced with part-time work, I won’t need to claim family assistance. That gives me a loophole to avoid naming the father and I promise that you won’t be named.’
‘What about us spending time together after the baby’s born?’
‘I …’ God, why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d emphasised that this baby was hers and only hers, and she believed that utterly. She shredded a paper napkin and tried to think, realising for the first time that a baby might change everything between them. ‘I understand what you’re saying. I guess I get a babysitter.’ A heavy feeling gathered in her chest and she rubbed her sternum.
He ran one hand across the back of his neck as if his appeal against a death sentence had just been squashed and then he finally closed the document. ‘If I do this, I have a rule.’
If.
A squeal of excitement bubbled up in her as she sensed she was unexpectedly close to getting what she wanted. ‘What is it?’
A seriously stern look entered his eyes, extinguishing the usual fun that mostly lived there. The only other times she’d seen him like this had been when he’d had to deliver bad news to patients or their relatives. The bubbles of excitement inside her burst, splattering trepidation from tip to toe.
‘Georgie, my parents must never find out. Ever.’
His words roared around her and she wasn’t totally certain she understood. ‘Your parents?’
He nodded stiffly. ‘They can’t know they have another grandchild. If they found out it would hurt them too much and I don’t want to inflict that sort of pain on them. They’d also descend on me and then you.’ His hand raked through his hair. ‘And I can’t be responsible for the consequences.’
Sheer relief made her laugh because this so wasn’t a problem. ‘Now who’s being overdramatic? Haim, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve met your family, what …?’ She did a mental count. ‘Three times, so this request is easily met. I’m in Melbourne and they’re in Jindi River so we’re hardly likely to run into each other. I’m making you a solemn promise that your parents will never find out about the baby.’ She stared into his eyes, willing him to say yes.
He raised his outback-blue eyes to hers, meeting them full on, and deep down inside her something lurched. Confused and unsettled, she dropped her gaze and crossed her legs over the discombobulating sensation that spun there. ‘You’re a sperm donor. Nothing more and nothing less.’
Only for some odd reason she wasn’t totally certain exactly who she was reassuring.
Silently, he picked up the pen she’d earlier placed on the table between them with a great deal of hope, and he drew off the lid very slowly. He pushed it onto the top of the pen before bringing the nib down towards the paper with an excruciating lack of speed, as if he still might stall and not sign.
She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
He paused with the pen a millimetre away from signing. ‘It’s a hell of thing to ask, George.’
‘I know.’
‘If a child is born from this, it’s totally your kid and nothing to do with me.’
‘Absolutely. It’s in the contract you’re about to sign.’
Tension shot through his square jaw. ‘If you do get pregnant, I don’t want blow-by-blow updates or ultrasound pictures. I’m nothing more than a three-time donor.’
Three times? She wanted to argue that, ask for more, but she knew better. She’d take what she could get. ‘I understand.’
‘I don’t want invitations to birthday parties either.’
‘You’re preaching to the converted.’ A tiny whisper of concern gained volume. ‘Haim, baby or no baby, we’re still going to be friends, right?’
‘I want to hope we can be.’ He scrawled his name across the document.
Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
Hamish didn’t meet her gaze or reply. Instead, he downed his coffee in one long gulp.
Georgie picked up the legal papers, hugging them tightly to her chest, and sent up a heartfelt wish. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
