Marriage Reunited: Baby on the Way. Sharon Archer

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      She stared at him, unable to refute the claim. Her mother’s antipathy towards Jack had caused difficulty from the beginning of their marriage. Any sign that the union was over and her mother wouldn’t hesitate to voice her pleasure.

      ‘So why haven’t you?’ Jack interrupted her thoughts.

      ‘Because…Because…’ She searched for a reason that would set him back on his heels. Instead, her shoulders slumped as the anger seeped out of her. ‘Because an opportunity never seemed to present itself. And then I found out I was pregnant and it seemed even less appropriate.’

      She reached for the base of her glass, the liquid sloshing slightly as she pushed it to and fro.

      ‘It’s hardly the sort of thing I could share without making some sort of explanation, is it? What was I supposed to say? Hey, everyone! Guess what? Jack and I have decided to get a divorce. Oh, and by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pregnant. Isn’t it just peachy?’ She grimaced. ‘Hell, Jack, I’m a doctor. If I can’t get birth control right, what sort of example am I to my patients?’

      ‘Must have been tough for you.’ Jack gave her an understanding smile, which slowly faded when she frowned at him.

      He reached for her hand, stopping the restless movement of the glass. His thumb caressed her wedding ring, rubbing her skin lightly on either side. The warmth of his touch felt good, made her realise how chilled her fingers were.

      ‘Liz, let’s leave this for another time.’

      ‘I won’t change my mind.’ Her voice sounded wobbly, hoarse. She had to be strong. Hers wasn’t the only life affected by her decisions any more.

      ‘I know.’

      She sucked her lips between her teeth to quell their trembling. ‘Then what’s the point?’

      ‘The point is you’re tired, I’m still jet-lagged.’ He smiled in appeal. ‘I promise we can resume hostilities after a good night’s sleep. Scalpels at dawn. Cross my heart.’

      A snorting half-laugh escaped before she could stop it. ‘I hate that you can make me see the absurdity of this when I’m still mad as hell with you.’

      ‘I know.’ He grinned.

      ‘There’re a lot of things that need to be said.’ Still reluctant to be charmed by him, she said, ‘Serious things that you can’t smooth over with a bit of a joke, Jack.’

      ‘Yes, but there’s no rule that says we have to say all those things tonight, is there?’ He stroked her knuckles, his blue eyes held an engaging appeal. ‘Truce?’

      She contemplated him in silence, common sense and exhaustion waging a short war with her need to settle her future—their future—one way or the other. ‘All right. Until tomorrow.’

      ‘I’ll consider myself on notice.’ He gave her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and lifting his glass to chink it lightly on the edge of hers. ‘Until tomorrow.’

      The uneasy peace held until the end of the meal. Jack seemed to put himself out to enchant her in a way that he hadn’t since the very early days of their whirlwind courtship and spur-of-the-moment marriage.

      She pushed her plate away and sat back. The spring evening was chilling slightly, but she felt too lethargic to bother getting a cardigan. Moving might somehow break the spell that kept them in this civilised cocoon. And she was enjoying this reminder of her romance with Jack, a brief interlude before reality intruded again. She smiled slightly as the baby kicked against the hand she’d just rested in her lap. Not all reality was content to be ignored.

      ‘I spoke to Danny McIntyre,’ said Jack, breaking the companionable silence.

      ‘Did you?’ The lovely warm glow from her thoughts winked out abruptly. She met his eyes as she rubbed her stomach gently, trying to soothe the little being within.

      ‘The accident this morning sounded bad.’

      ‘Yes. I thought you didn’t want to argue,’ she said in a vain effort to stop the discussion. Might as well ask her unborn babe to stop using her bladder for football practice.

      ‘I don’t. We’re not.’

      She wasn’t fooled by his conversational tone. ‘So you get to choose a topic but I don’t? Maybe I don’t want to discuss this topic.’

      ‘Is that because you broke the first rule of first aid at the accident scene?’

      ‘Did Danny say that?’

      ‘No.’ He smiled slightly. ‘What Danny did was give me a glowing description of your courage as the car teetered on the bridge.’

      ‘Hardly teetering. By the time I got there they had the car stabilised. They were just waiting for the jaws-of-life.’ She frowned. ‘You didn’t give Danny a hard time about this, did you?’

      He ignored her question. ‘But it was still on the edge of the bridge. You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk.’

      ‘I made a judgement call. The woman was making her injuries worse by moving around,’ said Liz, her heart pounding. She’d been so afraid for the young victim. No force on earth could have prevented her from getting into that car. ‘What was I supposed to do? Leave her alone there until she severed something vital on a jagged edge? She was pregnant and afraid she was losing her baby, Jack.’

      ‘Is that why you did it?’ he asked softly after a moment. His eyes were dark, hard to read. ‘Because she was pregnant? Because you were viewing the situation as a fellow mother-to-be rather than a doctor?’

      ‘Yes. Is that so bad?’ But she already knew the rational answer. A responder putting themselves at risk at an accident could very well end up becoming another victim, making more work for others at the scene.

      ‘It could have been if something had gone wrong.’

      ‘Nothing did.’ His criticism of her actions hurt more than she’d thought possible. That he was right didn’t help. ‘You always say there’s no point dealing in could-have-beens.’

      ‘I also believe in reviewing ops afterwards and seeing where we could have been more effective.’

      ‘I was effective and I didn’t get hurt.’ Unable to sit any longer, she stood, picking up her plate and reaching for his, only to find both of them whisked out of her hands.

      ‘I’ll look after the dishes.’

      ‘I’m capable of carrying a few plates.’ She loitered beside her chair, heaviness dragging at her limbs.

      ‘Sure, but you don’t need to tonight. Go and sit down.’ He stacked the plates and scooped up the empty glasses before glancing up to find her standing in the same spot. ‘Are you still here?’

      ‘I—I think I’ll go to bed.’

      ‘Good idea. Take the master bedroom. I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed.’

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