Just One Last Night Part 10

Her overnight bag had been packed for weeks and left in the same place, at the foot of their bed, but somehow Forde had been unable to find it until she had lent a hand. She glanced now at the speedometer, her voice deliberately casual when she said, 'We're doing fifty in a thirty zone, Forde.'

'I know.' His voice was a little strained.

'There's plenty of time.' But even as she spoke a new contraction gripped her, her muscles tightening until it was nigh on unbearable before loosening again.

'OK?' Forde hadn't slowed one iota and the glance he shot at her was desperate. 'I told you we should have left hours ago, Nell.'

'It's fine.' She was able to smile again. 'Three of the mothers from the antenatal cla.s.ses were sent home again due to false alarms and I'd just die if that was me. I wanted to make sure.'

Forde groaned. 'Would having the baby in the car convince you?' And then realising that wasn't the most tactful of remarks, he added quickly, 'Not that we wouldn't cope with that, of course, if it happened, but I'd prefer you to be in hospital.'

She would too, actually. And she was beginning to think she might have left it a little late-not that she'd admit that to Forde. Not the way he was driving.

Melanie focused her thoughts on the baby, willing herself to be calm and composed. They had decided they didn't want to know the s.e.x of their child at the twenty-week scan at the beginning of the year. It didn't matter. The only thing that was important was that the baby was healthy after all.

They arrived at the hospital in a violet twilight that was balmy and scented with summer, but for once Melanie was oblivious to the beauty of the flowering bushes surrounding the car park as another contraction held her stomach in a vice. She held onto Forde at the side of the car as it gathered steam and then began to pant like an animal, her nails digging into his flesh.

'I'll go and get a wheelchair,' he said, glancing round with a hunted expression on his face as though one were going to pop into his vision any moment. 'Sit back in the car.'

She held onto him with all her strength until the contraction was over and then said firmly, 'I am most certainly not using a wheelchair, Forde Masterson. They're four minutes apart so we can get to Reception before the next one and then I can wait a while before we go to the maternity unit.'

He looked at her with huge admiration. Since she had returned home with him after they had spent Christmas in the cottage, she had taken everything in her stride. He had to admit he had been like a cat on a hot tin roof the past couple of weeks waiting for the baby to come, but Melanie had been what he could only call serene. They had decorated the nursery in pale lemon and cream eight weeks ago and everything was ready for the new arrival. They just needed the baby now. His stomach jumped with excitement mixed with concern for Melanie. He hadn't expected her to be in such pain, although perhaps he should have.

They didn't make Reception before the next contraction had her clinging onto him. Now fear was added to the mix. He had visions of the baby being born in the car park and delivering it himself. He should have made her come to the hospital earlier, he told himself desperately as Melanie's fingers fastened on his wrists like steel bands. But she was so d.a.m.n stubborn. And wonderful and beautiful and amazing.

After what seemed an eternity her grip lessened, although he could see beads of perspiration on her brow. 'Wow.' She smiled shakily. 'Do you remember what they told us in the cla.s.ses if the baby comes unexpectedly?'

'Don't,' he said weakly.

He half carried her the rest of the way and once they stepped through the ma.s.sive gla.s.s doors into Reception the hospital machine took over with an efficiency Forde was thankful for. In no time they'd been whisked along to the maternity unit and placed in a delivery room. For a moment he remembered the last time they had been in the unit and his guts twisted, but when he looked at Melanie she was concentrating on following the midwife's instructions. He stared at her face, at her total look of concentration and the courage she was displaying, and his world swung back onto its axis.

'You're doing fine, sweetheart,' he murmured, wis.h.i.+ng he could share the pain. 'Not long now.'

In fact the contractions continued at three-minute intervals for the next two hours, which seemed a lifetime to Forde, although the hospital staff didn't seem unduly concerned.

Melanie was getting tired, even dozing between one contraction and the next in the couple of minutes' respite, but she still held onto his hand with the strength of a dozen women and every so often would smile and tell him everything was all right. He felt helpless, badgering the midwife once or twice until that good lady sent him a look like a dagger.

Then, suddenly, a little while after midnight, everything speeded up. Melanie began pus.h.i.+ng and another midwife joined them, the two women stationed either side of Melanie's bent legs while he sat by the bed holding her hand. He wouldn't have thought she had enough strength left for what was required but as ever she proved him wrong, pus.h.i.+ng with all her might when the midwives told her to push and panting like an animal again when they told her to stop.

Twenty minutes later their son was born and he was a whopper, according to the midwife who immediately placed him in Melanie's arms. Forde knew if he lived to be a hundred he would never forget the expression on Melanie's face as she gazed into the little screwed-up face. And the baby looked back with bright blue-grey eyes as if he knew his mother already. 'h.e.l.lo, you,' she whispered softly, the tears running down her face as she kissed his velvety brow. 'I'm your mummy, my precious darling. And this is your daddy.' She turned to Forde with a radiant smile to see his cheeks were wet too.

'He's so beautiful.' Forde kissed her tenderly before offering his finger to his son, who immediately grasped it with surprising strength, making them both laugh. 'And look at all that black hair.'

'He's going to be as handsome as his father,' said one of the midwives, beaming at them both and their transparent wonder at the little person they had created. 'My, he's a bonny lad and no mistake. Over ten pounds, I'll be bound.'

In actual fact, Luke Forde Masterson weighed in at ten pounds nine ounces-something, Melanie said in an aside and with great feeling, that didn't surprise her.

The midwives bustled off, promising to return in a few minutes with a cup of tea for them both. Melanie sat cradling her son with Forde perched on the bed at her side, his arm round her shoulders.

'How do you feel?' he said very softly as she stroked one tiny cheek with the tip of her finger.

She didn't try to prevaricate. 'Wonderful,' she said equally softly, 'and a tiny bit sad, but that's only natural, I suppose. It doesn't mean I love Luke any the less, just that I wish things had been different with Matthew.'

He nodded, his arm tightening for a moment.

'Isn't he beautiful, Forde? And he already looks like you,' she went on. 'He's got your nose. Can you see it?'

Forde looked at his son. He was beautiful, certainly the most beautiful child in the whole of England, but he simply looked like a baby, he thought, wondering how women could say these things and genuinely see what most men couldn't. He smiled. 'I'd prefer him to look like you.'

'Oh, no.' She shook her head. 'Our daughters will look like me and our sons like you.'

After what she had just been through he found it amazing she could talk of having more children just at that moment. He kissed her hard on the lips. 'I love you, Mrs Masterson.'

'And I love you, Mr Masterson. Always.'

EPILOGUE.

MELANIE and Forde went on to have the family they had dreamed of. Eighteen months after Luke was born, twin girls-Amy Melanie and Sophie Isabelle-made their appearance. True to Melanie's prediction the girls were the very image of their lovely mother. And two years after that another boy, John William-William had been Forde's father's name-made their family complete.

They had left the house in Kingston upon Thames just after the twins were born, moving to a huge old Elizabethan mansion in the country, which had acres of land attached to it along with magnificent gardens that would delight any child. It even came with a fine tree house built in one of the giant oak trees a little distance from the house, and this was nearly as big as Melanie's little cottage. She hadn't been able to bear to sell the cottage, not with all the memories it held of the wonderful Christmas when she and Forde had come together again, and now James had taken up residence there. With Melanie's growing family he had taken a larger part in the running of the firm, which had continued to go from strength to strength. James had three full-time employees and two part-time under his direction, along with a middle-aged lady who had taken on most of the paperwork involved with the company.

Tabitha and her little family had been joined by two rescue dogs-the cats ruling the roost with iron paws-and as time went on the children had a couple of small ponies so they could learn to ride, and an aged donkey-again a rescue animal-that Melanie wanted to end its days in comfort with others of its kind for company.

It was a happy household, but when John started school Melanie felt it was time to put an idea to Forde that had been in the back of her mind for a long time. Isabelle had been living with them for the past few years, having become too frail to continue in her own home, but sadly had died in the spring, peacefully though and in her own bed.

Melanie and Forde were sitting by the swimming pool Forde had had built shortly after they had moved to the house. They were watching the children and some of the children's friends playing in the water before Forde organised a barbecue for lunch. It was a beautiful summer's day at the beginning of June, the sky high and cornflower-blue without a cloud to be seen, and the scents from the garden intoxicating.

Melanie took a deep breath and turned to Forde, who was lying on the sunlounger next to hers clad only in his swimming shorts. As always when she looked at him, her pulse quickened. His body was as taut and lean as it had ever been and he oozed s.e.x appeal, which was all the more potent for his unawareness of his devastating attractiveness. She deposited a long kiss on his s.e.xy, uneven mouth before settling back on her own lounger. 'I need to talk to you.'

He smiled, his silver-blue eyes crinkling. 'You don't need to make an appointment, sweetheart. We are married, remember?'

Oh, yes, she remembered all right. The heavenly nights of bliss in their huge bed were a constant reminder.

'This is serious, Forde. I want us to start long-term fostering, taking in the sort of troubled child I was, the sort no one else is really keen to have.'

Forde sat up straighter.

'Now John's started school and your mother's gone, I feel it's the right time. When I was nursing Isabelle I felt she needed all my attention and a peaceful life at her age, but now that's not a consideration any more.'

Forde looked at his wife. He never tired of looking at her. He thought she got younger with every pa.s.sing year, the joy of family life turning her into a female Peter Pan. 'Are you sure about this?' he asked quietly. 'It would mean huge changes and it won't be easy some of the time. The children would have to make some adjustments too.'

Melanie nodded. He hadn't said no outright. 'I know that. This isn't a whim, believe me. As for our children, you know I love them beyond words and they will always come first. But ...' She paused, finding the right words. 'They have no idea of the unhappiness some children live with every day of their lives, and I'm glad they don't know that for themselves, of course I am, but sharing their home-and us-with such children will make our four better human beings in the long run. They are privileged, Forde, so privileged, and I'm grateful for that, but I don't want them to grow up without understanding everyone's not as fortunate as they are. I-I remember how it was for me as a child and I want to give something back. I want to help such little ones, give them a chance to feel wanted and loved. This is such a big house with wonderful grounds and we have four spare guest rooms we rarely use.'

Forde frowned. 'What about the sheer mechanics of caring for more children, giving them adequate time and attention? I can be around more but not all the time and I don't want you worked into the ground, Nell. It was hard work with my mother towards the end when she got very poorly and, although this will be different, you'll need help.'

'I know that.' She was trying very hard to keep the excitement out of her voice but nevertheless it sneaked in. 'And part of what makes me feel this is the time to do it is that I spoke to Janet the other day. You know we meet for lunch a couple of times a year?'

Forde nodded. It had been too far for Janet to travel when they had moved house, besides which Melanie had been keen to take over the role of full-time mother and housewife, which was why she had given most of the running of the business into James's capable hands. But she hadn't lost contact with their old housekeeper, meeting her occasionally and sending huge hampers to the house every Christmas.

'Well, her husband died last year as you know, and two of her children are married now and have left home. The girl that's left is the one with learning difficulties but she's great at cooking and cleaning like her mother. It's a rented house and I know Janet would love to come here as housekeeper and cook with her daughter helping her. Between the three of us we could run the house fine, and having Janet and her daughter here would free me up to take care of our children and any we foster, with Janet available as a back-up in any emergency. It would work, Forde. I know it would. But you have to want it too, I know that.'

'Where would Janet and her daughter live? In the granny annexe we built for Mother?'

'Would you mind that?'

'Of course not.' He ran a hand through his hair as he did when he was anxious or thoughtful. 'But I'd have to look into this more fully. We would have to look into it more fully.'

'Absolutely.'

'There'll be checks and red tape and who knows what. It'll mean opening up every area of our life to strangers before we could get a go-ahead.'

'I know that too but it would be worth it. I'd like to try, Forde. If nothing else I'd like us to try. If it doesn't happen-' she shrugged '-so be it.'

A slow smile spread over his rugged features. 'Nell, I know you well enough by now to know you don't mean a word of that. This is important to you, isn't it?'

'It is but unless you're completely happy we won't go ahead about even finding out the ins and outs.'

He leaned towards her, touching her cheek with his hand. 'If it's important to you it's important to me-you know that.'

When he looked at her like that all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and ravish him. She contented herself with cupping his face in her palms and kissing him deeply and pa.s.sionately. 'So I can go ahead and make some enquiries?'

Lifting her left hand to his lips, Forde pressed a gentle kiss on the finger that held her wedding and engagement rings. 'We'll do it together at every stage, OK?'

'OK,' Melanie whispered, wanting him, loving him.

Social Services welcomed them with open arms. As Forde had forecast the red tape stretched for ever, however, but by Christmas they had all the necessary pieces of paper in place and their initial two children, a boy and a girl who weren't related but had spent some time together in short-term care, had arrived to spend the Christmas holiday with them to see how they all got on.

The children's case histories were dire and there was no doubt they regarded all adults with deep distrust and, in the boy's case, a great deal of pent-up anger, but from the moment Melanie saw their small, wary faces she loved them. They came to the house a couple of days before Christmas and on Christmas Eve Melanie sat on the boy's bed and told him a story of a little girl who had been in care and who felt abandoned and alone. He listened with hostile eyes until the moment she told him she had been that little girl, and then it was clear she had taken him aback.

It was the breakthrough she had prayed for. From being surly and suspicious he began to ask her question after question and in so doing some of his own traumatic history came out quite naturally. The rest of the children were fast asleep, waiting for Santa to fill their stockings, and Melanie spent two hours talking to him before he settled down to sleep.

When she joined Forde downstairs, he reached out a hand to her, drawing her towards the French windows and opening them so the crisp, biting air caressed their faces. A few desultory snowflakes were beginning to fall on the sparkling ground, which was white with frost, and the trees surrounding the house looked breathtakingly beautiful in their mantle of white. 'A fresh new world,' he murmured softly, drawing her tight into his side. 'And that's what I want for these children, Nell. I crept up and listened at the bedroom door while you were talking to him and I know you're going to transform his life.'

'We both are,' she said softly, emotion making her voice husky.

'But you most of all.' He smiled, kissing her hard. 'We're going to have more Christmas miracles, Nell, and our family is going to grow in a way I hadn't thought of but which is perfect. Because of you, my love. All because of you. What did I ever do to deserve you?'

'That's what I think every time I look at you,' she whispered. 'You didn't let me go when I walked away. You came after me. You will never know what that meant.'

'We won't let these little ones go either.' He looked up into the pearly gray sky from which more and more snowflakes were falling. 'This is going to be another wonderful Christmas, my darling.'

And it was.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.a.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

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