Secret Baby, Surprise Parents. Liz Fielding
took her time putting Posie to bed.
She hadn’t been so close, so intimate with Josh in years and she needed to put a little time and space between them. Get her breathing, her heart rate back under control.
She didn’t hurry over changing her, washing her hands and face, feeding her little arms and legs into a clean sleep suit, all the time talking to her, tickling her tummy, kissing her toes. Telling her that she was the most beautiful baby in the world, just as Phoebe would have done.
Using the sweet little smiles to distract herself from vivid memories of Josh, naked in the shadowy light from a single lamp. His grey eyes turning molten as that first kiss had turned into hot, feverish, desperate need.
He’d been so beautiful. So perfect…
Posie waved a foot at her and she caught it, kissed it, peered into her eyes. Did all babies really have blue eyes? People said that, but was it true? Weren’t Posie’s a little bit grey? Then she saw the tiny flecks of brown and smiled.
‘You’re a beautiful, clever girl,’ she said, doing up the poppers, then picking her up and nuzzling her tummy before putting her in the cot, ‘and you’re going to be just like your daddy.’
She carried on talking to her as she wound up the musical mobile, teasing, laughing and, once she’d set it gently turning, singing to her, very softly.
Upstairs, Josh stopped at the open door to his brother’s small study. As always, it was immaculately tidy, with only his address book and an antique silver photograph frame on the desk.
He picked it up, stared at the picture of Phoebe cradling her new baby daughter. It looked perfect, but it was all wrong. A lie.
Even his perfect brother, who everyone had loved and thought could do no wrong, had one, unexpectedly human, frailty.
He carefully replaced the picture and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Later. He’d go through his papers later. Not that it would take long. He knew that all bills would be paid, life insurance up to date, will filed with the family lawyer.
Then he frowned. Had he changed it since Posie had been born? There hadn’t been much time but Michael had never, in the normal way of things, believed in leaving a mess for other people to clear up. But playing fast and loose with life, keeping secrets, even with the best of intentions, had a way of coming back to bite you. And that tended to make things very messy indeed.
Whatever he’d done, it seemed likely that Grace would be the person most affected.
He wondered if she had the least idea how her life was about to change. How, on top of the loss of her closest family, she might also lose the home she loved. The baby who she’d so selflessly surrendered and yet hadn’t totally surrendered, knowing that she would always be close to her. That she would still be hers to comfort. To hold.
He wiped those thoughts from his mind, took a breath, pushed open the kitchen door.
‘Sorry,’ he began. ‘I had to make…’
He stopped. Looked around. He could have sworn he’d heard her talking to Posie but the kitchen was empty.
He shrugged, crossed to the cutlery drawer, planning to lay the table. He’d barely opened it when he heard her again. ‘Night-night, Rosie Posie…’ she said, laughing softly. ‘Daddy’s gorgeous little girl.’
He spun around, then saw the baby monitor on the dresser. Was it two-way? Could she hear him? No, of course not. But even so he stepped away from the drawer, planning to escape before she came down and found him eavesdropping on her private conversation with her baby.
There was the sound of something being wound up, the gentle tinkling of a lullaby.
‘Night-night, sweetheart. Sleep tight…’
His imagination supplied the vivid image of her bending over to kiss this very precious baby.
And then she began to sing and nothing could have torn him away.
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