Reunited By Their Pregnancy Surprise

At the hospital he had a team. He was supported. He had the most recent advancements, tests and medications at his fingertips. Was able to experience joy with the family as he brought new life into the world. Holding a newborn baby...there was nothing in the world like it. It was a privilege. Magical. A brand-new person and he would be the first one to hold it, before he delivered it into the hands of its parents. The elation, the thrill in the room could not be surpassed. And then, once the umbilical cord was clamped and cut, Sam’s job—Sam’s responsibility—was over. He could relax. Let go.

Sam loved delivering babies. Hadn’t he wanted to do that for so long? Hadn’t he delighted in the miracle of birth so much he had made it his vocation? Deciding that because he hadn’t been able to save Serena he could save others?

But after the birth?

No. That was when it could all go wrong. It was why he’d interviewed and hired the best, most elite team of neonatologists and paediatricians for aftercare at his Monterey centre.

He’d vowed never to put himself in that position again, and when he’d first met Emily he’d thought he’d found someone just like him. Someone who loved delivering babies but who didn’t want one of their own.

Wasn’t that what she’d said? Early on? He felt sure that she had. He had a blurry recollection of it.

They’d met in a delivery room. Their eyes meeting across a crowded stirrup. Em had been working as a private midwife and had brought in a couple whose home birth plan had gone awry. As the OB/GYN on call, he’d gone to the room to assist with a Ventouse delivery and had been physically struck by the sight of her beside her patient, clutching the mother’s hand through each contraction, coaching her, intently focused on her.

He recalled a brief moment of wondering who this beautiful new midwife was before he’d got to work, and once the baby had arrived—safely, of course—he had left the room. Only for her to follow him outside and thank him.

I stared at her.

He smiled at the memory. He’d literally been struck dumb. Unable to speak. Her blonde hair had been messy, her cheeks rosy, and she’d been wearing these crazy dangly earrings with turquoise stones that almost matched her eyes. And she’d been wearing flats, so she’d seemed only as tall as his shoulders, and he could remember thinking that she was like an elf.

Eventually he’d managed to get his tongue and mouth to form simple words. ‘You did a great job in there.’

‘Me? No, it was nothing to do with me. You did all the work.’

‘Well, it’s my job.’

‘Yes.’ She’d stared back at him as if she’d been trying to work something out in her head. ‘I love having babies.’

He’d frowned. ‘You have children of your own?’

She’d shaken her head, as if realising she’d said something that she shouldn’t. ‘No! God, no! I don’t want any yet.’

He’d smiled, intrigued. He’d wanted to know more about her. Wanted to see her.

His only focus had been to be with her. To soak her up. They’d had such fun together, shared so many likes and opinions.

It had been easy to get carried away in the whirlwind.

CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT DAY a young man called Matt came to Sam’s room to help him ‘mobilise’. He was in the middle of trying not to feel too dizzy and light-headed after standing up for the first time when Emily came into his room.

His heart soared at seeing her, despite all his dark thoughts the previous night. She looked fresh and bright, a bohemian chic angel, as if she’d had a really good night’s sleep, and she developed a huge smile on her face when she saw him standing up, holding onto a walker.

‘You’re up!’

‘Not for long.’ Sam collapsed down onto the bed and let out a heavy breath, clutching his head as if to steady it.

Matt cocked his head to one side. ‘Dizzy?’

‘Yeah, a little.’

‘It’ll pass if you take it easy. Try this: whilst you’re sitting down, really push your feet into the floor and flex and release your calf muscles. It’ll help pump the blood around your system and prevent a blood pressure drop next time you stand.’

Emily stood by his side and hesitantly laid a supportive hand upon his shoulder. She smelt minty fresh and was wearing a perfume he didn’t recognise, but liked.

He looked up at her, expecting her to kiss him hello, but she didn’t. Because of Matt’s presence? It seemed unlikely. But now that she was here he wanted to show her what he could do. Show her that he was going to get stronger every day. He wanted to be back on his feet. He wanted to be up and about again. Working. Being Sam. He hated being stuck in a hospital bed.

Gripping the walker once again, Sam stood. Slower this time. He took a moment to make sure the dizziness wasn’t about to make him collapse onto the floor and then pushed the walker to one side and took a step forward. Matt stood close, ready to steady him if needed.

Who knew lying on your back for ten days after a head injury would make you feel as weak as a baby bird? After just a few steps he was ready to sit down, but Sam was determined to push through. He kept going. Made it across the room, out of the door to the nurses’ station and back again. By the time he got back to his bed he was exhausted, sweating as if he’d just done a full day’s training in the gym, and he sank back onto the mattress with a broad grin on his face.

Matt smiled. ‘So...you’re one of those people.’

Sam raised an eyebrow in question.

‘Type A. High achiever. It’s good, but you also need to know when to stop.’

Emily sat beside him on the bed and passed him a towel to freshen up with. ‘He’s always pushed himself and strived for the best.’

‘Yes, well, just keep an eye on that blood pressure. It won’t always be as low as it was about five minutes ago.’

‘I’m fine, Matt. Honestly. I won’t stop pushing until I’m in my own home.’

Matt nodded. ‘And probably not even then. I’ll come back later, after your evening meal, and we’ll do some more. In the meantime, rest. You’re allowed to get up to use the bathroom only.’ Matt saluted him and walked away.

Emily peered into his eyes. ‘Do you remember home?’

Sam looked at her, tempted just to ignore the question and kiss her. Having her this close to him, smelling as good as she did, looking as beautiful as she did...

He reached up and tucked a strand of her choppy blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Are we still in the apartment? The two-bedroom place with the sliding doors out onto the balcony? View across the city?’

He could picture that quite clearly. It wasn’t a problem. He very much wanted to get back there.

But the slump in Emily’s shoulders informed him that it wasn’t the right answer. ‘No. We don’t live there any more.’

Sam tried to think hard. To force memories to the surface. But he couldn’t. It was as if there was a thick wall in his head, blocking them, and no matter how hard he pounded against it, no matter how ferociously he yelled at it and fought to knock it down, it resolutely remained.

‘Then where?’

‘We have a house in Beverly Hills now. You found it for us. It’s white. Very neo-classical—columns, balconies, topiaries, big doors...that sort of thing.’

He tried to imagine it, but was more concerned with the way she’d described it. ‘You don’t seem to like it.’

‘I do. It’s just...’ She paused for a moment, looking down at the cover on his bed and straightening out a ripple on the surface. ‘I guess we haven’t made it ours yet.’ She smiled weakly, but then stood up and tried to become more upbeat. ‘But look at you! Only woke yesterday and already you’re pounding the floors of the hospital!’

He could tell she wasn’t telling him everything. Did she not like their home? Was it a place that he’d liked and pushed her into buying? There was something...

But he dismissed it quickly as he thought of his triumph without the walker and stood up again, pulling her into his arms, searching her gorgeous blue-green eyes for that quirky happy girl he knew so well.

‘I’ve missed you.’

She wrapped her arms around his waist hesitantly, as if it was something she hadn’t done in a long time, as if she was trying not to make it seem like she was pulling away.

But why would that be? They’d only been married a short time—surely they were still very physical?

‘Kiss me.’

‘Sam! The physio said you should be resting. You need to get back into bed!’

‘And I will! But only if my wife joins me.’ Sam tilted her chin up and showed her a cheeky grin before he brought his lips to hers.

The last time he’d kissed her had been... Well, just after she’d accepted his proposal. In his mind, anyway. And he was still full of that celebratory need to show her how much he loved her, despite all that had happened—the car crash, the pregnancy, the head injury, the amnesia. As far as he knew he’d only just slipped that ring onto her finger and he was feeling full to the brim with happiness.

However...

They were married. And expecting a baby. So surely they had to be getting along. And, despite his trepidation, his fears and his doubts, there was one thing clear in his mind. His love for Emily. And right now he felt that he needed her. The last few hours had been a lot to take in. To believe he had lost two whole years of his life was...mind-blowing. His pet project—his dream—the Monterey Birth Centre had opened and begun trading all without his knowledge.

Okay, so technically he’d been there. He’d orchestrated it, arranged it, even shown up to work there, apparently, but that was just what Emily had told him had happened. As far as he was concerned it still hadn’t happened, and whilst he was stuck in this hospital life would continue to carry on without him. He needed to get home. Needed to see the Monterey in action. Needed to think about how he and Emily would tackle their new challenges.

He pulled back and looked into his wife’s eyes. ‘I can’t wait to get home.’

She seemed breathless, her eyes glazed. ‘Me too.’

* * *

It took two weeks before the hospital was even prepared to consider releasing Sam. In that time he received lots of welcome visitors—Emily, his parents, his siblings, some colleagues that, to him, were still relative strangers. Those visits were weird. He underwent a barrage of assessments—physiological, neurological, biological. He felt like every part of him had been poked and prodded or had blood drawn from it, and when that wasn’t happening he had visits from occupational therapists, psychologists, neurologists and the surgical team, who’d given him the low-down on his small procedure.

Most importantly, throughout it all, he had remained stable and his observations had been normal. He was ready now. Anxious to leave the hospital walls and get home. Desperate to get back and see if being there would spark anything.

No memories had yet returned, despite Em’s frequent visits with accompanying photos and videos of their wedding and the opening of the Monterey. She’d been so keen to show him what they had done. What they had enjoyed. But it had been like looking at photos of a stranger, even though he was in them. It had left him feeling disconcerted. As if he was in a strange bubble.

The waiting to leave hospital was more than a little infuriating, and over the last few days he’d found himself snapping at various people. The psychology team had reassured him and Emily that this was normal, as he adjusted to his new self and situation, and offered to assess him every month, for as long as he felt the need to talk about it. Mood swings, apparently, were to be expected.

He wasn’t sure he did want to talk about it. Not to them, anyway. They’d already cottoned on to the fact that he didn’t seem delighted at the idea of becoming a father, and he’d grown to hate his sessions with them, knowing that they would return to the questions he dreaded. He’d even tried sharing his frustration with Emily, but it seemed as if she didn’t know anything about Serena.

Was that possible? That they’d been married for eighteen months and he hadn’t told her? That had kept him silent on all fronts and contributed to his anger.

So he was particularly pleased that today the doctors had finally decided that he could return home—with the understanding that he wasn’t to work for a further three months.

‘But I can go in and look around? Get familiar with what’s going on?’ he’d asked.

‘Sure. But no working. You won’t be covered insurance-wise.’

And with that dire warning they’d left his bedside.

And now Emily was at his side in the car, driving them home.

She seemed really nervous. Edgy. Fidgety. But he put that down to the fact that for the last few weeks the hospital staff had been around to look after him and make sure he was recovering properly. Now that safety barrier would be gone and it would just be down to the two of them.

Well...nearly three of them.

Sam swallowed and tried not to think of the baby. Emily was nearly eleven weeks now, and apparently she was booked in for a scan in a few days. He would have to go with her. Act the dutiful husband and hold her hand if she’d let him—he’d noticed a curious reluctance and hesitation on Emily’s part to be physical with him—whilst they squeezed on that cold blue gel and then smile inanely at the images on screen.

He so wanted to be happy about this. And a part of him was. But whenever he thought about them having a baby he pictured his baby sister Serena and what had happened to her when he’d been left in charge...

A car horn sounded, pulling him back to reality, and he flinched, looking across at his wife driving the car.

‘Aren’t you scared?’

‘Of what?’

He wanted to know if she was afraid of becoming a parent. It had to be a big deal for anyone, right? But something stopped him from asking that particular question.

‘Driving. After the accident...’

She shook her head, her honey-blonde hair shifting around her shoulders like velvet. ‘I was. Not now. But I’m being very careful. We can’t just stop doing things because they make us afraid.’

Depends what worries you.

He smiled and glanced out at the streams of traffic. He knew this road. Knew this area. But he had no idea where they were headed except for the fact that Emily was taking them home.

Home. Would he recognise it? Would it spark a memory? Something—even if it was a little blurry? The doctors at the hospital had told them both that the memories might return, and that they might either come all at once or he’d experience the odd one or two at strange moments, in totally unexpected ways.

Brains were mysterious creatures.

Pulling off the freeway, Emily took a slip road and drove for a few more miles through beautiful streets lined with lush green trees and neat sidewalks. He saw a young woman walking a poodle that had been groomed to within an inch of its life, trotting along like a dressage horse. He saw beautiful properties, secure within their walls and at the end of long driveways, as they drove on beneath the heat of the sun in their dark saloon car, and then suddenly they were slowing and turning into a driveway.

He looked up.

A majestic house sat before him. Perfectly white, it glimmered in the midday heat against the glorious blue sky backdrop. It looked palatial. Like something fit for a film star or a minor member of royalty.

This is ours?

He tried to picture himself wanting to buy this and could see its perks. It was prestigious, and screamed quality, with tall oak front doors and what seemed like hundreds of windows flashing reflections of the sun into his eyes as they approached up the long, smooth driveway. It was very different from his childhood home.

As they neared, he saw grey clothed staff come near the car and open their car doors.

‘Welcome back, Mr Saint! So good to see you up and about.’

He smiled at faces he didn’t know and stepped out, looking around him. Emily appeared to be much more comfortable with her surroundings than he did, and she quickly indicated to the staff to take their bags from the trunk.

The bags were quickly hurried inside as Sam looked about him at the gardens, which were lush with green leafy trees and all-white flowers and blooms. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘You picked it. Don’t you remember?’

He heard the trepidation in her voice. The hope that he would remember. He hated disappointing her. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t.’

He needed control of his life back. Something he hadn’t had whilst he’d been stuck in a hospital bed as a passive observer.

‘Let’s go in. All your things are inside—there might be something...’

Something about the way her voice sounded made him look at her in question. Was it just the amnesia that was making him feel...? I’m in the dark...

It was a weird sensation, but the doctors had told him he would feel like this. That he was not to ponder on it, or worry about it, that it was normal. It was probably just him being over-sensitive right now.

Shrugging it off, he took her hand and clasped it tightly, kissing the back of it. Then he smiled at her and nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’

And they walked inside.

Sam had imagined that this would be a moment. A moment when a flood of memories would assail him. He would spot something—a chair, a table, a painting or piece of art, perhaps—that would ignite a memory that had lain dormant and hidden behind the wall.

But, looking around him, he felt—and remembered—nothing. He tried not to be too disappointed. But it was hard. He’d told himself in the hospital that when he got home he would remember. That walking through the door into familiar surroundings would give his brain the nudge it needed to start releasing the information he craved.

The fact that his brain was failing him—that his memories were refusing to leap to the surface of his mind—frustrated him. He was a man who had always been perfectly in control of everything, and the fact that he couldn’t even force his own brain to do something made him feel angry inside.

Emily let go of his hand and stepped away from him to lay her bag and keys down on a table. ‘Anything?’

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, trying not to be angry with himself. ‘No.’

She stared at him for a while. ‘Don’t worry. Something will trigger it. I’ll show you around.’

And she took him from room to room. Sitting room, dining room, library, study, kitchen, utility, staff quarters, the guest bedrooms, the bathrooms, shower rooms, games room... Even all the storage rooms and up into the roof space, which had been converted into yet another guest room. They were all beautiful. Elegantly designed. Minimalist. Expensive and sumptuous.

Remembered?

Not at all.

All the belongings, all the possessions that Emily pointed out, convinced he would remember, meant nothing. He felt nothing.

A simmering rage bubbled away beneath the surface of his neutral face. And for some reason he felt anger towards Emily. As if it was somehow her fault that he couldn’t remember. He knew it wasn’t. It was just because she was the closest person to him and he so desperately wanted to remember for her delight. Her joy. Plus, it would also prove to him that he could somehow conquer the two years that had been taken from him. Two years of missed birthdays and celebrations. All of it. He could somehow claim it back.

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