The Heart Surgeon's Baby Surprise

‘To your stay in Australia,’ he proposed, and Grace acknowledged the toast with a dip of her head. Tiny flowers fell forward onto the table and, realising they must be in her hair, she lifted a hand to brush them out.

‘Don’t,’ he said, reaching out his free hand to catch hers in mid-air. ‘They look so pretty.’

‘Pretty?’ she echoed, the despair finding voice in bitterness. ‘That’s the last thing anyone’s ever called me.’

Still holding her hand, he brought it down to the table, where he rested it, leaving his lying negligently on top of it.

‘The flowers are pretty—they’re pretty in your hair,’ he said, and her bitterness deepened. ‘But you, you’re way past pretty—you’re beautiful.’

He raised his glass again then took a sip of the wine, but she was too flabbergasted by what he’d said to even think about sipping hers.

Beautiful?

He must want something.

She was good-looking, she knew that, even attractive most of the time, but her mouth was too big and her nose too long for beauty and she was too tall…

She shook her head, denying his assertion, and sipped some wine, then wiggled her hand out from under his and tucked it under the table where she had hoped it would stop remembering the feel of the weight of his and the texture of his skin.

Eventually!

‘Eat!’ he ordered, and by now she was too confused to do anything but obey him.

The meal was delicious, the wine smooth and mellow, slipping down so easily he was filling her glass before she realised she’d emptied it. They talked of the hospital, of the genesis of the paediatric surgery unit at the hospital called Jimmie’s, its future, and the people in the team. Doctors and nurses, Theo classified them all for her, every one of them good in their own way but each with special talents.

‘And your future—after your time in Sydney?’ he asked as the waitress took her plate and she’d said no to dessert. She sat back to enjoy the rest of the wine in her glass, more relaxed than she could believe possible.

‘I’ll go back home. I’ve been offered a place on a similar team in Cape Town. My father lives there and as he’s not getting any younger I want to be near him.’

‘Family’s important,’ Theo agreed, and whether it was the wine, or that simple statement, or just that she really, really needed to find out if he was the one, she found herself explaining once again.

‘My father is to me,’ she said. ‘He brought me up. My mother died when I was too young to remember her, and though he was a busy man—he was an orthopaedic surgeon—he always had time for me, time to read me a story at bedtime, and to listen to my worries and concerns, and to encourage me to do better, and to help me with my studies.’

She paused, wondering what effect this sudden outpouring of information was having on her companion, but Theo was leaning back in his chair, sipping his wine, if not absorbed in her conversation at least listening politely.

So she barged on, anxious to get it said once and for all.

‘It’s because of him I want a child—well, partly because of him. He’s seventy at the end of the year and I know a grandchild isn’t a normal kind of birthday present, but you have to understand my father. He can trace his family back for generations—back to the Scottish Jacobite rebellions, and further, even to the Vikings who conquered parts of Scotland from time to time. His grandfather emigrated to South Africa, but my father has always been interested in his Scottish heritage—in family. But with my mother dying, and him not marrying again, he was left with an only child and one who, at the moment, looks like being the end of the line. I know he’s proud of all I’ve achieved, and he’d never think less of me for not having a child, but deep down I feel I’ve let him down by not producing one—not producing someone to carry on his bloodline.’

She sneaked another look at Theo but he hadn’t fallen asleep neither was he yawning with boredom.

‘As I said, I’m thirty-five so I haven’t got much time, quite apart from his milestone birthday being this year. Which is what I wanted to ask you—being single and not in a relationship and all. I considered IVF but I don’t really want an unknown donor and there’d be no responsibility on your part, of course, it would be like you gave at the sperm bank—’

‘Grace!’

He didn’t yell her name but he said it with enough force to stop her in mid-flight.

‘Yes?’

He’d abandoned his wineglass and his relaxed pose and was leaning forward across the table, frowning fiercely at her.

‘Are you for real? Are you honestly sitting there, asking a virtual stranger—we only met yesterday, after all—for some of his sperm? Why not ask some hobo out in the street? For a few dollars you’d probably get all you need. Better still, go down to the beach and ask some of the board-riders—they’re outdoors all day, healthy—’

‘Stop! What you’re saying is ridiculous. Of course, what I asked was ridiculous as well, but you’re a doctor, you should understand. If I know where it’s come from I have some idea of genetic qualities. Yes, I know it was stupid to ask you when we’ve only just met, but I’ve thought about—about getting, you know, into a kind of relationship with someone so I could do this, but I’m not good at flirting and I’m a disaster with relationships, and anyway going to bed with someone I didn’t like just to get pregnant seemed wrong somehow, quite apart from the fact that if I did get pregnant I’d feel guilty, as if I’d stolen something from him.’

‘And asking a man for some sperm over dinner seemed OK?’ His voice, crisp with disbelief, seemed to echo around the outdoor space. She knew she was blushing fiercely again and that made her even angrier—mostly with herself, but surely this man could have been just a little more understanding!

‘Of course it’s not ideal but when would be? Think about it—halfway through a team meeting can I say, “Would one of you guys mind obliging?” And, anyway, most of the team are married and having a biological child by someone other than their wife, even if they didn’t acknowledge it, could cause problems in their marriage. I’m not totally insensitive!’

‘No?’ He was smiling now, the rat! Taking absolute delight in her embarrassment. ‘I must say it would enliven team meetings no end for you to suddenly come out with a request for a sperm donor.’

‘It’s all very well for you to joke,’ Grace snapped, hating him more and more for she’d never found it easy to deal with teasing. ‘But this is a serious problem for me.’

She sank back in her chair, swigged down the rest of the wine, and sighed.

Theo looked at her, reading the dejection in her pose, the embarrassment that lay behind it, and seeing also, behind the façade of confidence, the motherless little girl who wanted nothing more than to please the father she obviously adored.

It was the little girl who sneaked through his defences, although when he replayed Grace’s rationale in his head he suspected there was more to her wanting a child than she’d said. Oh, it had sounded very sensible—but was she using her father’s desire to see the family line continued to hide her own longing? He’d seen her at the hospital—seen the way she looked at the small patients—and wondered if she felt it would weaken her somehow to admit she wanted a child for herself?

He sighed.

‘Look, I’m sorry for teasing you, and I do see how difficult it must be for you, but if you’ve thought this through at all, you must realise that the chances of you getting pregnant right off from one…er, donation are very slim. What are you going to do then? Ask someone else?’

She stared at him, such horror in her eyes he knew immediately she hadn’t considered the possibility of not getting pregnant straight away.

‘But I ovulate regularly and I’ve been tested and I’m still producing viable eggs so if I time it right, why not? People get pregnant accidentally all the time, so surely if I stick to the right date, so will I.’

Theo shook his head at her desperate protest.

‘Are you really such an innocent?’ he demanded, then was sorry when he saw the colour creep into her cheeks again. And although he found her blushing attractive he was sure she hated it, so he regretted he’d embarrassed her.

‘Of course not!’ she said indignantly, but he heard a lie in the words. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

‘You must think I’m stupid—stupid for not realizing. Even more stupid for having such a pathetic idea—a baby for a birthday present…’

She stood up, adding, ‘Let’s go. I’m paying,’ in the kind of voice he heard from her in the hospital—cool, efficient, in control.

But not totally in control for her handbag had fallen from her lap, spilling its contents on the floor.

She bent to gather things, obviously flustered, and he bent with her, picking up a lipstick tube, thinking how attractive she was when her mask of self-control slipped. And suddenly the idea of being a sperm donor for this woman didn’t seem such a bad idea, although…

‘There, I think that’s it,’ he said, pressing a small pack of tissues into her hand, touching her fingers, looking into her clear eyes, the full lips so close he could have kissed them.

Tension he didn’t understand built between them, growing stronger by the second until he had to diffuse it—or kiss her!

He let her pay the bill, and as they left the restaurant she turned back towards the hospital.

‘Aren’t you living on Kensington Terrace?’ he asked.

She nodded, as if still afraid to speak in case she said something more she’d regret.

‘Then you don’t have to go back to the hospital. We can walk across the park.’

‘Do you live in that direction?’ she asked, studying him now, suspicious…

‘I don’t, I live closer to the city, but it’s not much further for me to walk through the park then from your place to the hospital where my car is than it is to walk from here. I’ll see you home.’

Definitely suspicious but although her lips—he really had to stop looking at her lips—opened to protest, they closed again, and she didn’t shake off his hand when he put it on her elbow to guide her across the road and in through the park gates.

Grace had seen the park in daylight but had not had time to explore it, although someone on the team had mentioned ponds with ducks and geese, and riding trails and dog exercise areas. None of which had much relevance for her, so she’d not taken much notice. And certainly no one had spoken of the romantic possibilities of the area, although as they walked along well-lit paths, in and out of patches of shadows cast by huge old trees, the park assumed a very romantic atmosphere.

Romantic atmosphere? What was wrong with her? One devastatingly embarrassing meal with a colleague and she was thinking romance?

‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Theo remarked, as they wandered along the path through a particularly dense bit of shadow.

‘Yes, very!’ she said quickly. Peaceful was a much better description than romantic!

‘You’ve settled into your flat?’ her companion asked, and once again she was grateful. Perhaps he’d forgotten her stupidity at dinner.

‘Yes, although I need to find a supermarket and do some proper shopping, and probably find a means of transport to get to and from the shops. I assume there are buses.’

‘There are buses but I could drive you. You’ll probably have a lot of stuff to get and bringing it home in the car is easier than carting it home on a bus. After work tomorrow? We’d better check with Jean-Luc as he’ll probably need to find a supermarket as well.’

Why was he doing this? Making arrangements that meant he would see more of her? Theo puzzled over this dilemma as they exited the park, a little part of him feeling regret that they’d not taken advantage of the night-time romantic ambience.

He must be crazy, although Jean-Luc would probably be with them the following day.

Jean-Luc? Grace was living in a flat above him. Surely he’d have been a better candidate for a sperm donation.

‘Why not Jean-Luc?’ Theo asked, as they waited for traffic to clear before crossing the road to the big old house that had been divided into flats and was kept by the hospital for visiting medical personnel. She turned to him, hesitated an instant, then offered him a smile that was only marginally better than a grimace. They crossed the road before she answered.

She turned to face him on the footpath outside the house. ‘Believe it or not, I did consider it.’ There was enough honesty in her voice for him to know it was the truth. ‘But how embarrassing for both of us if he felt he didn’t want to do it,’ she continued, ‘and probably worse if he did agree. No, it had to be someone a little more at arm’s length, if you know what I mean. Anyway, thanks to your common sense I’ve realised I was being unduly optimistic and definitely irrational in thinking I could do it my way. I’ll get in touch with an IVF clinic here and find out what’s involved in getting on a programme.’

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