her. But he didn’t. He didn’t deserve to be a part of the circle. Felt more of an outsider than he ever had, despite the efforts of others. It was his fault he felt like that and he knew it. Just couldn’t do anything about it.
He watched Simon take a present from the eldest child and hand it solemnly to Tara. When she opened it he saw her eyes flash to Simon’s, saw the tremulous smile and the stroke of her finger down the painted face of the Russian doll. Those dolls that had other dolls inside. This looked like a very expensive version of those.
Cute. But a strange present to give. Though he had no idea about giving presents himself. He frowned, realising he should have thought about that on the way here. He didn’t have any to give.
Tara didn’t seem to know about the tinier dolls inside and Simon laughed and showed her how they came apart and another pretty painted doll was removed from the centre. And another and another. Until there was a dozen little painted dolls in a line along the arm of the chair. Simon’s little sisters had eyes wide with wonder and he suspected there was a little moisture in Tara’s eyes, and even Maeve’s. He was missing something here.
Maeve shifted her body so she was closer to him and gestured for him to lean down.
‘Tara’s parents died when she was six. So she was in an orphanage until she grew up. Since then she’s never owned a doll.’
Damn! No wonder she understood a little of his awkwardness on arrival. He wasn’t the only one who’d had it hard. He’d always been grateful his mum had stayed straight long enough to keep him out of care. Even though he’d been the one doing the caring at home. At least it had been his home and he had had a mother.
The present-giving moved on and Maeve was given a little hand-made wheatpack, a drink bottle with a straw, and a pair of warm socks as comfort aids for labour, and they all laughed.
He watched Maeve smile and thank Tara, but the little twitch in her eyelid made him wonder just how calm the woman having his baby really was about the approaching birth.
His own uneasiness grew with the thought. It wasn’t like neither of them didn’t know a lot about birth. He’d been at many, but mostly he had been the paediatrician there for Caesarean babies or other newborns at risk.
And Maeve had done her midwifery so she was well versed in what would happen. But it was a bit different when it was this close to home. There were those other times when the unexpected happened.
He really needed to talk to her about that. He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes since last time he’d looked at it. Not too bad. And then it was over. The paper was collected, hugs were exchanged and everyone sat back. Louisa asked about fresh coffee or tea and Maeve shifted to the edge of her chair. He put out his hand and helped her up.
Her hand felt good in his. He tightened his grip.
‘We’re going for a drive.’ She said it to the room in general and there was a little pause in the conversation. Then she looked at Louisa and smiled. ‘I’ll be back by two-thirty to make that brandy sauce.’
Simon groaned. ‘Make sure you are. That sauce is to die for.’ Everyone laughed again and Rayne wondered, with dry amusement, if he really was the only one who got the warning directed their way.
Louisa said, ‘Hold on for a minute.’
And Maeve shrugged and said, ‘I’ll just go to the loo before we go.’ He thought they’d never get away.
Then Louisa was back with a small basket. Quickest pack he’d ever seen. ‘Just a Thermos of tea and a cold drink. Some Christmas cake and rum balls in case you get hungry.’
He looked at her. ‘I’m pretty sure nobody could be hungry leaving this house.’ Looked at her plump cheeks, pink from exertion. Her kind eyes crinkled with the pleasure of giving her food. ‘Thank you.’ He lowered his voice so that nobody else heard. ‘I was going to take Maeve to the seats by the boatshed. This is perfect.’
She held up a finger. ‘One more thing, then.’ And within seconds was back with a small brown paper bag. ‘Bread scraps for the ducks.’
He shook his head. He had never ever met anyone like her. ‘You are my new favourite person.’
Then Maeve came back and he tucked the paper bag into his pocket so he could take her hand and carried the basket in the other.
The lake
DRIVING AWAY FROM the house, he felt like a load fell from his shoulders. He never had done other people’s family events well and the feeling of being an outcast had grown exponentially when he’d had to add the words ‘ex-inmate’ to his CV.
He realised Maeve was quiet too, not something he remembered about her, and he looked away from the road to see her face. Beautiful. She was watching him. He looked back at the road. Better not run over any kids on Christmas morning, riding their new bikes.
‘So where are we going?’
‘I saw a boathouse down on the lake. Thought we’d just sit on one of the park benches beside the water.’ He looked at her again. ‘That okay?’ He could smell the scent of her hair from where he was sitting. He remembered that citrus smell from nine months ago.
‘Sure.’ She shrugged and glanced at the seat between them. ‘What’s in the basket?’
He had to smile at that. Smile at the memory of Louisa’s need to give. ‘Emergency food supplies Simon’s grandmother worried we might need.’
Maeve peered under the lid and groaned. ‘She put in rum balls. I love rum balls. And I can’t have them.’
He frowned. She could have what she liked. He’d give her the world if he had the right. ‘Why can’t you have rum balls?’
She sighed with exasperation. ‘Because I’m pregnant and foetuses don’t drink alcohol.’
He looked at her face and for the first time in a long time he felt like laughing. But he wasn’t sure he’d be game to.
Instead, he said, trying to keep his mouth serious, ‘I hope our baby appreciates the sacrifices its mother has been through.’
Tartly. ‘I hope its father does.’
That was a kick to the gut. He did. Very much. He turned into the parking area of the boatshed and parked. Turned off the engine. Turned to face her.
‘Yes. I do. And I am sorry I haven’t been here for you.’
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t know. That I couldn’t share the pregnancy with you.’
He thought of his state of mind in that prison if he’d known Maeve was pregnant and he couldn’t get to her. God, no. ‘I’m not.’ He saw her flinch.
‘Surely you don’t mean that now. That’s horrible.’ She opened the car door and he could feel her agitation. Regretted immensely he’d hurt her, but couldn’t regret the words. Saw her struggle to get out of the low car with her centre of balance all haywire from the awkwardness of the belly poking out front.
Suddenly realised it sounded harsh from her perspective. He didn’t know how to explain about the absolute hell of being locked up. About the prospect of staying locked up for years. About his guilt that his mother had died to get him out and he’d actually been glad. He still couldn’t think about the load of guilt that carried. He opened his own door and walked swiftly round to help her out.
Finally Rayne said very quietly, ‘I would have gone mad if I’d known you were pregnant and I couldn’t get to you. There was a chance I wasn’t coming out for years and years.’
She stopped struggling to get herself from the car. Wiped the tears on her cheek. Looked up at him. ‘Oh.