“It can be a bit traumatic,” the doctor sympathised, handing Emma another Styrofoam cup filled with cold water. Rohan sat on the bed in the corner, cupping his chin in one hand and refusing to catch Emma’s eye.
“Oh, will you both stop with the leg stuff?” she exclaimed in frustration. Now she’d purged the last of the morning’s cup of tea, her stomach growled in hunger, further irritating her. The breeze from outside caused goose pimples to rise on her bare flesh and she felt like the Elephant Man on a trip to the supermarket. Nurses came and went, mainly out of curiosity and only one of them thought to wrap her in a thin blanket, for which Emma was truly grateful. “It’s not the damn leg! I never liked that one anyway. I always preferred your left one with the little mole on your...” She halted her sentence at the look of warning on her husband’s face.
Emma stared up at the ceiling, testing the temporary vertigo which could happen again if she stood up too soon. The white plaster rose decorating the centre of the room stayed where it was. All good. Emma slipped the blanket from her shoulders, exposing her bra while the doctor watched with interest. She pushed her arms and head through her vest and then added the sweatshirt. Still ok. She took another sip of water, deciding the fleece might be a step too far for the moment. She focussed on the ornate architrave around an alcove, testament to the age of the converted old house. Thoughts of Anton’s mansion rose to the forefront of her mind, too big to talk about right then. But her other problem pressed on her chest like a concrete block and Emma sighed, feeling as though her head would explode with it all if she didn’t confess something.
“Please could I have a moment with my husband?” Emma asked the doctor, registering his reluctance to leave. She waited while he messed around with some paperwork and then left, closing the door behind him. Still Rohan said nothing, looking at his hands and adjusting the blanket covering his knees and the scarring below. Emma stood gingerly, finding she felt ok. She walked over to Rohan and tugged at the blanket, engaging in a violent version of the table cloth trick.
“Stop it!” he complained as the blanket fell to the floor, exposing his silky black boxer shorts and the covering of blonde hair on his muscular thighs. He gritted his teeth in irritation.
“Rohan Andreyev, stop being such a big baby.” Emma pushed herself between his legs, feeling his thighs part but his chest remained hard, like a wall of muscle. He made no attempt to embrace her. “I’m not sick because of your damn leg.” Emma pressed herself closer into her husband and turned her face sideways to snuggle into his warm neck. “It’s morning sickness,” she whispered. “I’ve been trying to tell you a few things since yesterday and one of them is that I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Rohan’s neck crinkled as he craned it to try and see Emma’s face. Failing, he grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her up. “What did you just say?”
“You heard. I’m not repeating it,” Emma replied stubbornly, watching the myriad of emotions cross Rohan’s handsome face. He worked his way through the full gamut, shock, disbelief, shock and then hope.
“Pregnant?” He bit his lip and tried to hide the smile which threatened at the corners of his mouth, wrenching his lips upwards to reach the ceiling. “Really?”
Emma glared at him. “If you even dare to ask if it’s yours, I’ll slap your face!”
Rohan shrugged and looked confused. “That never occurred to me. But how can you know already? I mean yesterday...”
“Whoa boy!” Emma’s brow knitted in consternation. “Back up a month more like it, to a certain night at the start of November and a nice red dress which you ripped and I had to mend!”
Rohan’s eyes widened. “Then? Wow!” He swallowed and looked at Emma as though she was made of delicate china. His grip on her upper arms relaxed to a caress. Then his face clouded. “So you were pregnant when they kidnapped you?” His jaw hardened and he swore. “I’ll find who started this and make them sorry!” He ran a shaking hand across his face. “Argh! Eddie drugged you. What if it hurts the baby? How can we find out?”
Emma shuddered at the memory of that night and the beautiful, burning mansion. She shook her head and Rohan dismissed the rage, burying it somewhere inside him for another time. Emma pushed herself into her husband’s chest and he held her tightly, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing his face into her long dark curls. “What will be, will be,” Emma muttered. “We’ll deal with it if it happens.”
The doctor returned with reinforcements, a white coated gentleman and another nurse. He knocked on the door with a tentative little rat-tat-tat and entered despite being ignored. The little group stopped at the sight of the couple entwined around each other. The new doctor stepped forward and offered his outstretched hand to Rohan. “Captain Andreyev, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Emma released herself from Rohan’s arms and sat on the bed next to him, keeping hold of his powerful bicep in case the floor began to move in her vision again. Rohan accepted the man’s handshake and observed him through blue, dancing eyes filled with life. “I understand you’re upset at the length of time it’ll take to mend your prosthetic leg,” the doctor began, his voice filled with more authority than his colleague. “I’ve had a word with the boys in the workshop...” he corrected himself. “Laboratory, sorry. They think they could have it ready by this Friday, late afternoon. So you’ll have to manage until then but hopefully you’ll have it back before Christmas.” The man looked nervously for Rohan’s approval.
Rohan considered for a moment and then gave it. “Sounds fair. My son’s six. I want to be able to play with him on Christmas Day.” He looked at Emma and smiled, his face bursting with happiness. He touched her stomach with tender fingers as she balanced on the edge of the bed. “I’ve already missed far too much,” he whispered.