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Nick rushed down the hospital hall.
He thought that he had reconciled himself to the fact that he was having a child in five months, but when the phone call had come from Desiree that Allie was in hospital, he'd thoroughly shit himself. It was in the prospect of losing his unborn child that he realised now how much he truly wanted it.
Looking around frantically at the numbers on doors, he finally found the one he was seeking. His heart pounded as he screeched to a stop. Stepping forward to the open door, he struggled to collect his breath.
Standing in the doorway, he took in the sight before him: his mother-in-law was seated on a chair beside a bed upon which his wife lay. He only had eyes for her. Her top was up and her swelling belly was on display. Across her abdoman was a strap, and following the attached wire and cords, he saw a screen drawing regular waves, a regular beep with each rise.
Unfrozen, he stepped into the room. Taking the hand that Allie reached out to him, he leaned down and covered her lips with his. "Everything okay?" he whispered when they parted, his free hand bracketing her cheek.
Allie struggled to find the words and the best she could do was a nod of her head as a woman in a lab coat stepped into the room. Still firmly gripping his wife's hand, Nick turned when the doctor addressed him. "You the husband?"
"That's me Doc," confirmed Nick, swallowing hard as he unconsciously squeezed Allie's hand. "What can you tell us?"
"Mr and Mrs Buchanan," she began, "we've managed to stop the cramping and halt the early labour. Your baby is fine." There was a collective sigh of relief around the room. "However," the woman continued sternly, "that is not to say that you are out of the woods. There is still a chance of miscarriage."
Nick felt Allie stiffen next to him and moved in closer, his other hand clasping her shoulder. Both were struggling to process this and it was Desiree Kingston who spoke next. "What can we do?" she demanded to know, her gaze piercing.
"Well," replied the doctor, not fazed by the look, "this case was most likely brought on by stress, so..." She turned to the parents. "Have you had much stress in your life recently?"
Nick lay in front of the television.
The volume was on mute and the images flickering across the screen meant nothing to him. Flat on his back, one hand was on his forehead – his mind rather full, and his body exhausted – whilst Mia lay on his chest.
Allie had sent him home from the hospital to pick up Mia from after school care. He'd protested, wanting to stay with her overnight, but she'd been firm. "Mum is here, and I need you to tell Mia."
He'd been ready to argue, but taking in her weary form and her exhausted features, had barely restrained his tongue. "You call me if you need anything," he made her promise one last time as he clasped her neck.
"I will."
When he'd told Mia that her mother was in hospital, their usually rambunctious child had suddenly turned solemn. He'd quickly added that the baby was okay, and that they were staying in the hospital overnight so the doctors could look after them.
His reassurance hadn't reassured her. "This is my fault. I was being naughty this morning and so that's why she and the baby are in the hospital."
"No sweetheart," he quickly said, gathering her up into his arms. "It's not your fault. It's just... It's not your fault." He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "Mia, it's not your fault. At all. It just happened, and the doctors made her better."
She remained a clingy child for the rest of the evening and refused to leave his side, even when it came to bed time. Not willing to face the bed he shared with Allie just yet, he'd ended up on the lounge with Mia snuggled into him like old times. He'd been happy to indulge her need for closeness, still thoroughly rattled himself.
Mia was finally sleeping when the phone rang.
He used one hand to hold her in place as he swiftly reached for the mobile on the small table nearby. Noting caller id, he raised it to his ear. "Is everything okay?" He would have sat up, but the weight of the six year old kept him down.
His heart was pounding at a mile a minute and he was already making plans to dash into the hospital when her reply cut through his rushed thoughts. "I'm fine. I just wanted to call and check that everything is okay. Is Mia okay?"
"She's fine," he promised quickly. "How about you?"
"We're okay."
After a comfortable silence, his muscles starting to relax once again, his head on the couch cushion, Nick asked a question that was on his mind. "Hey Al," he asked softly.
"Mm?" replied Allie.
"Why didn't you call me first?"
He heard her sharp intake of breath. "I didn't want to scare you. If this turned out to be nothing, then you didn't need to know."
"You never planned on telling me?" he asked incredulously, his voice still soft, so as not to wake up Mia.
"I would have," replied Allie. "But only after I knew what was wrong. I wanted to, um, protect you." There was a pause before she added sheepishly. "I got Mum to call you from the hospital. I thought I'd be able to get through it myself."
"We are really going to have to do something about this doggone independence of yours," said Nick with a sigh, a trace of humour lining it.
"Mm," confirmed Allie and he could visualise her smiling. "I'm most likely a lost cause."
When the call ended shortly after with an "I love you and see you tomorrow", Allie placed the phone on the tall table near her bed. She startled when the mother she thought asleep in the chair spoke.
"Why did you call me first?" asked Desiree. Allie eyed her mother, expecting censure, but instead she found a genuine interest.
"I, um, didn't want to scare Nick until we knew what was wrong," she replied. "Because he..."
Desiree noticed the trailing off, but let it pass. "It's amazing the things we do for love isn't it?" she offered instead. "Your father was much like your man. He never wanted to leave my side." Desiree's face softened at the memory. "But he made sure that you weren't neglected either."
In the movement of shifting her body gingerly to be more comfortable, Allie frowned. "When were you in the hospital?"
The eyes that turned to her were clear. "When I miscarried your brother."
Allie's jaw dropped. "I had a brother?"
"You did," confirmed Desiree. "You would have been two and a half years old when he was born. But he died when I was four months pregnant."
Allie's hand unconsciously covered her stomach where her own child at the four month stage lay. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Desiree waved her hand, as if by doing so she could wave away the past. "There was nothing to be done and nothing to be gained from getting miserable over it. No point hanging onto something you can't change."
"Oh Mum..." admonished Allie, the start of tears in her eyes. She reached out her hand in her attempt at sympathy.
Desiree squeezed it briefly and then sat upright in her chair. "Now you can see why I pushed you to be as good as you could be," the older woman said briskly. "I only had one of you."
It was through the night, bonding over this private, painful memory that would not be spoken of again for a long time, that Allie and her mother finally began to repair their relationship.
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