*Rose was trying not to panic. Really, really trying, but it was hard, because her waters had broken and she was standing on a beach and already she felt a contraction banding her belly—a real one or a practice Braxton Hicks she didn’t know, but it was scary. She was only thirty-three weeks. She had three more weeks to go, according to the various consultants they’d seen, before the babies could possibly be delivered safely. Right then, with her hands on her precious bump, three weeks seemed like a very long time.
“Sam…” Her voice wobbled.
“Okay.” Sam snapped shut the lid of the black velvet box—that box!—and took her by the arm. “Let’s get back to the castle, and then we’ll go directly to hospital. See what’s what. It’s going to be fine, Rose, absolutely fine, I promise you.”
His voice was steady, his arm strong, and Rose was thankful—so thankful—that she was going to marry a man who was great in a crisis.
Except she hadn’t actually said yes yet, but surely that was just a technicality. A mere detail. They could have the rest of that conversation later, when their babies were safe. She could tell him how much she loved him, all of him, and how happy and thankful she was to be his bride. But right now they had more pressing matters to deal with.
With Sam talking steadily to her, holding her arm the whole way, they made it across the meadow. Every time Rose had a contraction, she drew her breath in sharply. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! She felt like wailing the words aloud, but of course there was no point. It was happening.
Back at the castle, Sam helped her into his Rover and then jogged into the house for his wallet and keys. Rose eased back into the passenger seat, her hands laced over her bump, willing her babies to stay strong. To stay alive—legs kicking, hearts beating, bodies growing.
A few seconds later, Sam was sliding into the driver’s seat, clearly in crisis mode. “I told Seph what happened, and she’ll tell everyone else,” he said calmly as he started the car and started to reverse. “You don’t need to worry about that side of things at all.”
“Okay,” Rose said, and then let out a gasp.
Sam glanced at her, his forehead crinkled. “Another contraction?”
“Yes.”
“They’re happening about every eight minutes, which isn’t too bad.”
She let out a choked laugh. “How do you know that?”
“I was keeping time when we walked from the beach.”
She shook her head slowly, smiling despite her fears, her tears. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
The grin Sam gave her was both heartbreaking and wonderful. He looked so chuffed, and she loved him so much. “Why, thank you,” he said.
The contractions kept coming all the way to the hospital, a band of muscles tightening and releasing across her bump. It was so strange, to have her body acting of its own accord, springing into action mode without her say-so. And scary, because it was too soon.
As if he could read her thoughts—and perhaps he could—Sam stated in the same calm voice, “Thirty-three weeks is still a decent gestation.”
“But the smaller one…” She bit her lip, not wanting to say it aloud. It was bad enough to let that dark fear skirt the edges of her mind.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, Sam held hers with his other, squeezing gently. “We’re going to be okay,” he told her firmly. “All of us.”
And even though Rose knew he couldn’t promise any such thing, she appreciated him saying it. A lot.
In the hospital they went to A&E and then were referred to the maternity ward, a place Rose had been before several times, but which now felt scary and real. Was she about to be one of those lumbering, labouring mothers, breathing through contractions, her hospital gown gaping at the back, and far too soon?
“We’ll do a scan,” the consultant on duty told her, his manner both efficient and reassuring. “And see where we are. Then we’ll need to make some decisions. Our priority is to keep these babies safely inside for as long as possible.”
“And can that happen?” Rose asked, hearing how high and thin her voice sounded, like a child’s. “Even when my waters have broken and I’m having contractions?”
The doctor’s expression was grave, which made Rose feel like shrieking. This was serious. Really serious. She knew it was; she felt it. Her babies. “It is possible,” he told her, “but it will require some intervention. You’ll need to stay at hospital, and we can give you antibiotics to prevent possible infection and also a steroid to help your babies’ lungs develop more quickly. We’ll get you on an IV to keep you hydrated, which can sometimes help stop the preterm contractions.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know this is frightening, but we’ll do all we can to keep these babies safe.”
All they can. But what if it wasn’t enough?
The next hour seemed to pass in a blur of both terror and unreality. She had a scan, which showed, thankfully that the babies were not in distress. Yet. Then she was taken to a room on the ward and hooked up to an IV, given steroids and antibiotics, and told to stay in bed, that she’d be checked every hour.
Sam sat next to her, holding her hand, while Rose fought tears. This wasn’t the way she’d envisioned this at all.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, trying not to cry.
“I know.” His voice was calm, but she saw how pale he was, how dark and clouded his normally bright blue eyes. He was scared, too. Of course he was.
What if they lost their babies? It was a prospect Rose hadn’t let herself consider—not when her waters had broken, not when the contractions had started, not when she’d had the scan. Her mind simply wouldn’t go there, but now it did. If their babies died, what would happen to them as a couple?
The only reason they were together was because of their two children nestled in her womb. Yes, Sam had told her he loved her, but had it simply been a case of when given lemons, make lemonade? The best of a bad situation? If he was truly free from obligations and responsibility, why wouldn’t he take off for Kathmandu or Kilimanjaro or wherever the next charitable adventure took him?
Rose was used to people not sticking around. Leaving her in the lurch when it mattered most. Why should Sam, who hadn’t asked for any of this anyway, be different?
“Rose?” He held her cold hand between his own, rubbing it softly. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t even know.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.” She sounded irritable, but the reassurance she’d craved earlier annoyed her now. There were no guarantees. She knew that, and so did Sam. “You can’t know that it’s going to be okay,” she told him.
Sam looked down at their hands, seeming chastened. “That’s true.”
Rose slipped her hand from his and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m cold.”
“Let me get you a blanket.”
She watched him leave the room to fetch an extra blanket, missing him already and yet also strangely glad he was gone. Maybe, she thought darkly, she’d need to get used to it. Maybe it was better not to depend on his company, make herself even more vulnerable.
And yet what was more vulnerable than this?
When he came back in the room, he had two blankets and a cup of tea, milky and sweet, the way she liked it. Tears filled Rose’s eyes. Again. She almost couldn’t bear him being nice to her, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because every other time she’d been in a crisis, there had been no one to help. To care. To fetch her tea and hold her hand. And she didn’t know how to handle it now.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Sam looked taken aback. “Sorry. What for?”
“For everything.”
“Rose…”
“I dragged you into this—” she persisted stubbornly, feeling like she had to say it.
“Rose.” Sam looked both hurt and exasperated. “You didn’t drag me into anything.”
“You didn’t ask to be a dad—”
“I’m glad to be a dad. Rose, please. Don’t talk like this, not now. I’m here. I’m staying here. You can trust me. Okay?”
She bit her lip, longing to believe him yet still afraid to, even now. “Rose?” he prompted softly, taking her hand once more, and she let him. She was being stupid, she told herself. Stupid and scared and unfair, to assume Sam wouldn’t be there for her, just because other people hadn’t. He’d shown himself trustworthy and true time and time again, and just as he’d had to shake off the burdens of the past, so did she. She wouldn’t let old hurts and regrets taint the present or tarnish her future. She could choose to believe, to trust. Right now.
“I know I can,” she said, and she squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Sam smiled and then he leaned forward and very gently kissed her lips. Rose closed her eyes, savouring the caress. The closeness.
A quick tap on the door had them easing apart and a midwife came in with a briskly cheerful smile. “Time to check your babies’ heartbeats,” she announced, and Rose nodded while Sam sat back, his hands braced on his thighs.
A few seconds later they heard it, a steady whooshing sound that reassured Rose until she saw the midwife frown.
“Is something wrong?”
“The heartbeat is a little slower than we’d like,” she said as she rose from her chair. “I’ll just ask the consultant to have a listen.”
Rose shot Sam a terrified glance, and she saw how stricken he looked for a second before he smoothed his features into a bracing look.
“We’re getting the best care we can,” he told her.
Which didn’t mean all that much, she thought, the panic mounting inside her as the consultant came in the room and listened to the heartbeats. Then he was frowning too, and Rose felt as if everything was moving very fast, and yet also in slow motion. She was wheeled out for another scan, which passed in a blur, then the doctor was telling her that the babies were in distress, and she would need to have an emergency C-section immediately.
“Wait…now?” She gaped, scrambled to keep hold of her thoughts, and then turned to look pleadingly at Sam. “Sam—”
“I’ll be with you, Rose.” Sam’s face was pale as he reached for her hand.
“I’m afraid your partner cannot be present in this situation,” the consultant informed them both swiftly. “We have to act quickly. But he’ll be waiting for you when you emerge from theatre.”
“But—”
“We need your consent for this procedure before we begin. We wouldn’t be recommending it unless we thought it was the best option for your well-being and your babies’ survival.”
Survival. She stared at the consultant wildly for a moment before she nodded. “Yes. Yes—”
Then she was scribbling her name on a form, and Sam was kissing her forehead with tears in his eyes, before she was wheeled into theatre, her mind racing so hard and fast she felt dizzy, while nurses and doctors moved around, setting up lamps, pushing in a trolley of instruments, erecting a blue tent over her chest so she couldn’t even see her bump anymore and she felt as if she were drifting alone in an endless sea, even as people surrounded her, seeming so urgent and important.
“Count to ten backwards for me,” the anaesthetist instructed.
Rose stared at him in confusion for a second before she began in wobbly voice, “Ten, nine…”
Then the world went black.
*
He wasn’t going to panic. He was definitely not going to panic, Sam told himself as he took deep, even breaths and his mind raced and spun. Everything had happened so fast. Just a few hours ago he’d been down on one knee, the happiest man on earth, or about to be, with Rose looking down at him in teary-eyed wonder.
And now…now it felt as if everything was fragile, tenuous. Breaking. His phone buzzed in his pocket and a nurse walking swiftly down the corridor gave him a quelling look.
“No phone calls in the hospital, please,” she told him briskly.
Sam glanced down at the screen. It was Althea, no doubt wanting to know what was going on. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t leave Rose. What if something happened? He had to be there. One hundred per cent, he had to be. He knew that absolutely, knew it in his gut, his heart. He would not leave Rose now, not even for a moment. Quickly he thumbed a text reply: At hospital. Can’t take calls. Will text when there’s news.
Then he slid his phone back in his pocket and paced in front of the doors. How long did a C-section take? When would he know if Rose was okay? If their babies were?
Every second felt like an age, an absolute eternity, crawling past so slowly Sam felt like screaming. Instead he tried to focus on practicalities, what he could do, what Rose might need after the surgery. Would the babies need a specialist? Rose would need a room downstairs at Casterglass; he had a notion that stairs were to be avoided after a C-section, but maybe that was old-fashioned. She could use the morning room, perhaps. She’d like the sunshine that room got, since it faced the sea…
And what about the babies? All the clothes they’d bought would be far too big. He hadn’t even set up the Moses baskets yet, or the cots, or the pram…but realistically, he knew, they wouldn’t need any of that for some time. Their babies might be in the hospital for weeks…
Dear God, please keep them safe. Please keep Rose safe.
It was a prayer he felt in every atom of his being, from the deepest recesses of his heart to the tips of his fingers.
The doors to the theatre opened, and a consultant stood there, dressed in scrubs and smiling wearily, but it was a cautious smile, a smile of sympathy rather than congratulations…or was it?
Sam found he couldn’t speak.
“The babies have been delivered,” the consultant said. “Two girls.”
Girls. He had daughters. “They’re…” Sam’s voice sounded scratchy and his lips felt funny, like he’d forgotten how to form words. “They’re okay?”
The consultant’s smile slipped, just a little. Sam felt as if he’d staggered, even though he hadn’t moved.
“They’re in good health, but they’re very small,” the consultant told him. “The smaller one weighs only a kilogram and a half.”
A kilogram and a half! Just over three pounds. Tiny. How could a human being that small live? And yet they had to live. They had to.
“They’re being taken to the NICU,” the consultant told him. “While your wife recovers.”
“Is she awake? Rose?” Sam asked, gulping.
The consultant shook his head. “Not yet. It will be another half hour or so before she comes round.”
“And the babies—” His daughters. “Can I see them?”
“Yes, in a little while. They’re receiving the best care possible right now, but it would be better for you to wait until they’ve been checked over and stabilised. The smaller one might need a breathing tube to help get her lungs going.” He paused. “Look, I’ll give you the bottom line, because I know that’s what parents always ask for. Your daughters are in good shape for their gestation—the larger one weighed over two kilograms and could breathe well on her own. The smaller one is going to have more trouble, but my hope is she will get there.”
“But how likely—”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t deal in percentages. The next few hours and weeks will be crucial. A human being that small is understandably very fragile, very vulnerable. But babies are often stronger than we think, and premature girls tend to be better fighters than boys. So there’s every chance you’ll be able to take your twins home one day soon.”
Sam gulped again and then nodded. The consultant wasn’t promising him anything, and he was very aware of that. It all sounded so…tenuous. Even more tenuous than it had been when Rose had been in theatre.
“Thank you,” he managed, and the consultant nodded and walked away.
With half an hour before Rose would wake up and no opportunity to see his daughters, Sam decided to call Althea back. His whole family would be desperate for news, he knew, and he needed to talk to someone. He had to share this burden.
Outside the hospital he leaned against the wall, swiping to call Althea with trembling fingers before he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Sam?” She’d answered after only one ring. “What’s going on? What’s happened? Is Rose—”
“She had a C-section. The babies are…they’re girls. They’re alive.”
Althea’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Alive…”
“The bigger one seems okay. The smaller one…” They didn’t even have names, he thought. He and Rose had never discussed names. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to jinx themselves, but he wished they’d thought of names now. He wanted his children to have names. “The smaller one,” he resumed, his voice wobbling just a little, “is having more of a struggle. I’m not sure how much. She’ll probably have a breathing tube. They said the next few hours and days are crucial…”
That was when he lost it. He, who had always tried to be strong, who had been proving himself over and over again to anyone who cared, who couldn’t bear to show his weakness or fear, broke down and wept. He pressed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger as he tried to stem the sobs and found he couldn’t. He didn’t even want to. This was too big for him.
“Oh, Sam,” Althea said softly. “Sam, Sam. Let us help you. Do you want someone to come—”
“No.” He drew a clogged breath. “No, I need to get back to Rose. She’ll be waking up soon, and I have to be there when she does.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he drew another breath. “I’ll call you when I have more news.”
“We’re thinking of you, Sam. Praying—”
“I know.”
He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket and wiping his eyes again. Then, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, he headed back into the hospital, to find his family.