do you mean?’ Gus asked, his voice hoarse.
Holly clenched her hands together until the knuckles turned white, hoping and praying that there was still hope for the baby.
‘There is much we still need to talk about,’ Mr Haggerty stressed, ‘but I can tell you, Gus, that thanks to the quick actions of the flight crew, combined with the skill and determination of everyone in Theatre, you now have a son.’
A son.
He had a son.
The words hammered inside Gus’s head, and for several moments all he could hear was the rushing of blood in his veins as it pulsed with a matching rhythm … a son, a son, a son, a son.
A shiver of reaction ran down his spine. As he struggled to control the welling of emotion that brought an uncharacteristic sting to his eyes he felt the light brush of Holly’s fingers on the back of his hand. Without conscious thought he gratefully accepted the physical contact, moving so they were palm to palm, their fingers naturally interlocking.
‘My s-son …?’ he asked, stumbling as he voiced the word aloud for the first time. ‘How is he?’
‘He’s a fighter. Given the trauma of the accident and the delivery—and the suggestion that he could be up to four weeks premature—he’s in miraculously good shape. So far,’ Mr Haggerty informed them.
Relieved despite the words of caution, Gus expelled a shaky breath. ‘Thank God.’
Holly’s fingers tightened on his and he returned the pressure, overwhelmed after the nerve-racking and stressful wait for news that his son was alive. Not only alive, but by all accounts with a real chance of survival.
‘We’re transferring him to the paediatric intensive care unit in the maternity wing so we can monitor him closely,’ the consultant continued. ‘He’s small. And he’s bruised. It appears your wife wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, so he must have taken a battering in the crash, and then there was his somewhat unceremonious entry into the world. We need to do some tests—’
‘What kind of tests?’ Gus demanded, anxiety once more rising within him.
‘As I said, your son seems remarkably robust. At the moment we can’t tell whether he’s suffered any ill-effects from the accident … how long he experienced any loss of oxygen or blood-flow, for example. There are a couple of other issues we need to clarify with you, too,’ the man added, a frown on his face.
Gus’s chest tightened. ‘What kind of issues? What’s wrong?’
‘We have questions about the validity of his due date—’
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ Gus interrupted, tension ripping through him. It was one of the few things he was certain about.
The older man raised an eyebrow. ‘No room for error at all?’ he asked, a note of disbelief edging his voice.
‘None,’ Gus confirmed, although he had no intention of explaining why he was so certain about his baby’s conception—especially in front of Holly.
‘If that’s so,’ the consultant remarked, his doubts obvious, ‘then he’s unusually well-developed. He’s not displaying the signs of prematurity we would expect in a baby of that age.’
‘Maybe the upheaval of the accident and delivery are masking other things,’ Holly suggested softly.
Gus glanced at her, noting the pallor of her skin and feeling the tremor of her hand in his. Her support of him took his breath away. And confused him. Guilt and self-disgust about the fateful night in question—the one that had resulted in the baby and sparked off everything else—returned with a vengeance. As did the memory of Holly’s reaction … her anger, confusion, hurt, and the cool disdain in her eyes when she’d looked at him that had chilled him to the marrow of his bones.
A short-lived but virulent virus which had kept him off work for a few days had knocked him for six—as had the medication prescribed to combat some of the more debilitating symptoms. Only the prospect of his first proper date with Holly could have tempted him out that evening. A date which, he’d hoped, would mark a turning point in their relationship, moving it from platonic friendship to something more intimate and permanent.
He’d been waiting for Holly in the Strathlochan Arms, the favoured haunt of many of the local services personnel, where he’d been renting a room until contracts were signed and he could move into his new house. Holly had not only stood him up without contacting him herself, but she’d ensured her rejection was delivered in the most public and humiliating of ways in front of many of their colleagues.
He’d been ridiculously early, sitting at a table near the log fire and counting the seconds until Holly’s arrival, excitement and hopeful expectation firing his blood and distracting him from how rough he was feeling. A change in the atmosphere had drawn his attention and he’d glanced up to see a striking-looking woman walking towards him. A noticeable buzz of tension and anticipation had rippled through those present in the bar.
There had been no doubting the stranger’s outward beauty, capturing as she had the interest of most of the men in the room—and the envy of many of the women. She’d been tall, her platinum-blonde hair sleek and styled to perfection, its fashionable cut framing the somewhat angular bone structure of her face. Given the colour of her skin, she had been no stranger to sunbeds and fake tan. Her hazel eyes had been almond-shaped, her nose narrow and up-tilted at the tip, while her pouting lips—which he’d suspected were a result of filler injections rather than Mother Nature—had been defined with siren-red lipstick. Skin-tight jeans tucked inside knee-length leather boots had emphasised long, long legs, while an expensive cashmere top had clung to her slender figure.
In Gus’s view she had been too slender, too polished and too artificial. He’d infinitely preferred Holly’s womanly curves and natural beauty. The disinterested assessment had run rapidly through his mind as the unknown woman approached him, and he’d regarded her with suspicion when she stopped at his table.
‘Are you Gus Buchanan?’ she asked, her head tilted coquettishly to one side.
Wary, Gus nodded. ‘Yes, I am. Why?’
‘My name is Julia Tait.’ The woman paused for a moment before completing her introduction. ‘I’m Holly’s sister.’
‘Her sister?’ Gus repeated, aware of the shock and confusion in his voice.
‘Let me guess … Holly never told you about me.’
Embarrassed by the unexpected situation, Gus frowned, puzzled and annoyed by Holly’s blatant omission—and Julia’s apparent expectation of it. ‘No. No, I—’
‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it,’ Julia admitted, rescuing him from his clumsy efforts to explain the unexplainable. With a sigh, she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid Holly has been lost to me for some time … she only acknowledges me or asks for help when she wants something. And this time, I’m afraid, my uncomfortable mission is to tell you that Holly’s changed her mind about dating you. She’s not coming, Gus … tonight or any other night.’
As she paused something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before he could identify it. He was having enough trouble hiding his dismay as the full realisation of what she
