Lincoln tried to stop his mouth from falling open. Pretty as a picture. The words danced around his mind. The dress fitted perfectly, with the cardigan over her shoulders to stop her fair skin from burning and her curly red hair framing her face. His eyes fell automatically to her legs. There was only the slightest amount of oedema around her ankles. A non-medic wouldn’t even notice and that was a good sign. He tossed her the sunhat. ‘Here you go, don’t want you getting scorched out there in the sun.’
She laughed and stuck the hat on her head. ‘Have you got any food?’
‘Have I got any food?’ Linc let out a hearty laugh, ‘Amy, when have you ever known me to go anywhere without food?’ He pointed to the door, where a small picnic basket sat on the floor, with a picnic blanket tucked under the handle.
‘Where on earth did you get that from?’
‘The kitchen staff. They love me. No, no, you don’t.’ He whipped the basket back up as she attempted to open the cover and peer inside. ‘You don’t get to look until we are sitting comfortably on the beach. Then you get to look.’
‘If you’re going to make me wait it had better be good, mister.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘How far away is the beach anyway?’
Lincoln picked up another bag he’d left at the doorway. ‘Apparently about two minutes down a path at the side of the hospital. Or we can take the path at the other side and head down to the harbour. Neither is too far and you should be fine, so take your pick.’
‘The beach. Definitely the beach. I can’t remember the last time I smelled the ocean.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t think I could take the smell from the fishing boats today.’
Linc gave her a smile and extended his arm towards her. ‘Then let’s go.’
* * *
Nope. She wasn’t imagining it. There were definitely tingles shooting up and down her arm. Her hand was tightly enclosed in his as he led her down the stone path towards the beach. It wasn’t particularly steep, or treacherous, but there was something nice about holding hands. Something familiar and yet intimate at the same time.
The beach already had a number of families set up for the day, with chairs and blankets spread out across the sand, and numerous little kids running around covered in white sunscreen, carting buckets filled with sea water across the sand. Linc pulled the blanket from the under the handle of the hamper and spread it on the sand. ‘Is here okay with you?’ he asked.
Amy nodded and settled down on the blanket. She slipped off her sandals and buried her toes in the sand. Bliss.
She shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun, already beating down on her pale legs. Thank God she’d thought to pack some factor fifty. It was a gorgeous day, but she didn’t want to end up frying in the sun. Her fingers caught the fine cotton material of her dress—the First Lady’s dress—and a little smile appeared on her face. The pale green material, dotted with tiny pink, blue and cream flowers, was gorgeous, the style perfect for her extended abdomen. She couldn’t have picked a more perfect dress if she’d tried.
With the hat firmly on her head and the cardigan protecting her shoulders, she leaned back on her hands and looked out over the ocean waves. Pelican Cove was apparently renowned for its surfing and today was no exception. There were numerous surfers out on the waves, their brightly coloured boards and shorts making them easy to pick out against the deep blue ocean.
Surfing. Another thing on the list of things she’d never tried. Maybe, once her baby was here, she would give it a go.
Lincoln pulled food from the basket and began setting it out on the blanket—chunky brown bread sandwiches, a pile of fruit and some sodas. He glanced around about them, acknowledging a few smiles and waves from people he recognised. People from the hospital at the beach with their families.
He’d only been here a few days and already people were recognising him. Was Pelican Cove really that small? Or was it just that friendly?
He watched as one of the nurses walked past, hand in hand with a chubby toddler. She gave him a small smile and joined her husband on a nearby blanket. Was that what they looked like? His head flicked from side to side. Did the other people on the beach assume that they were a family? He, Amy and the bump. Lincoln swallowed the lump currently fixed in his throat. That’s what they must look like—walking down the coastal path hand in hand, like a husband and wife with a baby on the way. Lincoln felt uncomfortable.
What did he want people to think? Amy had already told people that she was his wife. No one had questioned her different surname. Did they know she’d been lying? Or were they just being polite, and not asking any questions? Even Val and Ruth, the two NICU nurses he’d brought with him from San Francisco’s Children’s Hospital—two nurses who had known him for the last five years—hadn’t asked him about his wife. They knew he wasn’t married. So why hadn’t they asked any questions?
His eyes were drawn back to Amy. There was a smile on her face as she stared towards the ocean. Jennifer Taylor had been right about them being the same size. The outfit fitted perfectly, complementing her skin tone, even down to the wide-brimmed floppy hat.
The same question kept turning over and over in his mind. Why was Amy here? Was this just about her baby? Or had something else motivated her to come? Sure, he might be a good neonatologist, he might even be a great neonatologist, but there must have been someone else she worked with that she could have trusted—trusted with the life of her baby. Was it really just him? And was it really just his skills and expertise? Or was it something else, something deeper that had brought her here? And why, right now, was his stomach clenched in the hope that it was?
He blinked. Amy hadn’t moved, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. ‘What are you looking at?’
She smiled and turned towards him, leaning back on one of her elbows. ‘The surfers. Something on my list.’
‘Your list? What’s that?’
She gave a little sigh. ‘When I was sick I made myself a list of things I’d like to try once I was well again. It kind of helped me get through the bad days—the days when the chemo made me sick to my stomach and I thought I’d never get out of bed again.’
Lincoln felt a chill running down his spine. The thought she’d been that sick, that unwell really unnerved him. Why hadn’t someone been there for her? Why hadn’t he been there for her?
He forced a smile onto his face. ‘So, surfing’s on the list?’ She nodded. ‘What else?’
Amy leaned over and picked up one of the sandwiches he’d unpacked. She nibbled at a corner of it. ‘There are lots of things. Lots of places I want to visit. Lots of things I want to experience that I haven’t tried before.’ Her hands ran over her stomach and her eyes met his. ‘But there’s one thing on the list that I’ve already got.’
He nodded. It was obvious that would be on the list. She’d had to undergo a cycle of fertility drugs to stimulate her ovaries before undergoing chemo so it kind of went without saying that having kids would be on the ‘want to’ list.
‘Anything else I can help you with?’
She raised her eyebrow at him. ‘You want to help with what’s on the list?’ She looked a little unsure.
Lincoln nodded. ‘Why not?’ Was it guilt that was making him say that? Guilt, because he hadn’t been there for her when she’d been sick—even though she hadn’t asked?
Amy shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve never actually shown anyone my list,’ she murmured.
Lincoln sat backwards. ‘You actually have it—a list—written down?’
She nodded slowly, looking slightly amused. ‘That’s what a list is, Linc.’
This time as she watched him his smile reached his eyes, right up to the corners. Not like a few minutes ago. His eyes were twinkling. ‘I thought we were talking hypothetical, I didn’t realise you’d actually written it down
.’
Amy bent forward and rummaged around her bag, unzipping a pocket inside and pulling out a piece of red paper, which she carefully unfolded and placed in the middle of the blanket. Lincoln leaned forward, intrigued. ‘Silver pen?’ He raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Red and silver…’ he nodded towards her feet ‘…just like your toes.’
Amy looked surprised and wriggled her toes in the sand. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that, and I was planning on changing my toes.’ She wiggled them again. ‘I like the stars but thought maybe midnight blue with gold stars this time.’ She gave a little smile. ‘More dramatic.’ She waved her hand at the list. ‘That’s why I picked the red paper and silver pen, I wanted it to look bold, strong and powerful. Make me feel confident that I would be here to complete it.’ Her voice had faded away and she was staring out at the ocean again.
Almost on instinct Lincoln reached out his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. It was comfort, that was all. He was comforting a friend, showing support. So why did he feel the need to tell himself that inside his head?
He looked down at the paper again and gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘I think I would have to be a billionaire to help you with some of the things on this list.’
Amy looked embarrassed, pink tingeing her cheeks. ‘Not all of them.’ She leaned her head over next to his. ‘Some of these were just wishful thinking.’
He quirked one eyebrow. ‘That would be the two-carat diamond ring and the trip to Monte Carlo?’
She nodded. ‘Exactly.’ And took another bite of her sandwich. ‘The others are much more reasonable.’
He looked at the neat, deliberate writing in front of him. Small script, carefully written.
1. Do whatever it takes to have a family.