A Mother's Secret (Mills & Boon Medical) Read online

  Gemma felt as if a fist was currently tightening its grip around her heart. ‘Of course she does.’

  ‘And what do you tell her?’

  She could feel the tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes. ‘I tell her as much of the truth as I dare. I tell her I was originally having a baby for my friends but I loved her too much to let her go.’

  Logan stayed silent for a few seconds, his eyes still on the photograph of Isla. ‘Does she ever ask to see them?’

  Gemma walked over and touched the picture with her finger. Thank goodness Isla wasn’t here right now. Thank goodness she hadn’t witnessed any of this.

  ‘She’s asked to see photographs and I’ve showed her some. I told her that they’d moved away.’

  His face turned towards hers. ‘Is that true?’

  A tear slipped down her face. It was like he was exposing every lie she’d ever told. And there was no excuse for lying—even with the best of intentions.

  She shook her head. ‘No. No, they haven’t. As far as I know, they’re still in Glasgow.’

  ‘Patrick wasn’t granted access rights?’

  She looked him in the eye. ‘Absolutely not. Patrick was the issue.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘But you didn’t tell anyone that. So how did you manage to get him denied access?’

  Gemma could hardly focus. ‘The judge decided the whole case was too emotive. He said it was better for Patrick not to be involved—to give everyone a fresh start.’ She put her hand on her chest. ‘My job was to protect my daughter. In the end, I had a really bad feeling about Patrick. I heard him one day in the hospital, being short with some kids in A and E. It made my blood run cold. And I didn’t have a doubt I was doing the right thing.’

  ‘Because the guy had a bad day?’ He made it sound so ridiculous, so flimsy. She could feel her anger bubbling up inside.

  ‘Don’t say it like that. Isla is my daughter. My daughter. It’s my duty to protect her. It was his manner with those kids. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear him. He didn’t realise I had just walked up. Then he snapped at the kids and threatened them—telling them if they didn’t behave he wouldn’t treat their mother. As soon as he realised I’d appeared, he was all nicey-nicey again. There was no way I was handing my daughter over to man like that. How could I be sure how he’d be behind closed doors? I already had a bad vibe from him.’

  Logan threw his hands up in the air. ‘I just don’t get it, Gemma. Part of me can’t believe you agreed to do this in the first place.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘How could you have even contemplated being able to give a baby away?’

  His words brought tears to her eyes instantly. ‘Because of people like Claire, Logan. Because of what infertility does to them. My friend Lesley was just like Claire. I went through it all with her. I wanted to help. I wanted to help my friend.’

  He shook his head. ‘But you didn’t.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I get what you’re saying about Patrick and Lesley. I get that you might have thought your baby was at risk. I’m just having a hard time dealing with the fact you were prepared to do it in the first place.’

  The tears started to drip down her cheeks. She pressed her hand to her chest. ‘But I didn’t know. I didn’t know how I would feel in here. I didn’t know I would become so attached. I didn’t know that every breath that I took would be about Isla. Would be about how much I loved my daughter.’

  He dropped his eyes. ‘And that’s just it, Gemma. Do I believe all this? Or do I just believe you didn’t want to give your baby up? Do I just believe you became attached and couldn’t give her away? Maybe none of this is true. Maybe it’s convenient to turn things around and put a shadow of doubt over Patrick.’

  ‘No. No, Logan. I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you? What do you expect me to say? My sister is virtually having a breakdown over people like you.’

  ‘People like me? Don’t say that.’ She pointed at his chest. ‘You have no idea what’s going to happen with your sister. She might get a surrogate and things will work out fine.’

  ‘And how could I support my sister in that decision when there’s people like you about? People who agree to do something then change their mind? Can you imagine what that would do to her? That would destroy what tiny part of her is left!’ It was frustration. It was pure frustration and she knew it.

  She could feel her whole body start to shake. She knew he believed what he was saying. She knew he felt so guilty about his sister right now that it could be affecting his reactions. She couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him at all.

  Because it was all true. She had no contact with Lesley any more. She’d all but destroyed her best friend and it was a horrendous truth to have to bear.

  And even though she hated it, there was a real thread of reality to his words. She was the worst example of a surrogate. Her press coverage alone must have put hundreds of people off using the surrogacy route, and that made her feel so sad.

  It made her feel guilty. It made her feel responsible.

  But deep down she didn’t doubt she’d made the right decision—even if she couldn’t prove it. She and Isla were happy. If she could go back and have her time again, no matter how much she regretted the overall outcome for Lesley, she couldn’t ever regret having Isla.

  It didn’t matter that the thought of Patrick sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t always felt like that towards him, obviously, or she wouldn’t have agreed to the surrogacy. But even if Patrick had been perfect, would she have started to have doubts about giving away her baby?

  Would she have become so attached to Isla and broken the hearts of her friends anyway?

  Her brain couldn’t even go there. Guilt had consumed her for so long that she couldn’t afford to spend any time or energy thinking about all the what-ifs. Dealing with the consequences of the reality was hard enough.

  Arran had felt like a safe haven. A little piece of quiet in this noisy world.

  What would happen when the news started to spread about her? Would people not want to see her in the surgery? Even worse, would parents not want her to treat their children?

  All she wanted was to do her job, have a quiet life and have a happy home for herself and Isla.

  Logan Scott had complicated all that. Logan had started to make her feel things that she hadn’t felt in years. His flirting and attention had made her start to consider the other possibilities out there. Made her start to think that she could find something else other than a life for herself and Isla.

  But that was finished just as quickly as it had started. Nothing could be clearer.

  She took a deep breath. ‘You’re not being rational, Logan. I know you’re upset about your sister. But you’re right. You can’t let my example influence how you feel about surrogacy. You have to help your sister make the right decision for her.’ She lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘And who are you to judge me? Who are you to make judgements on actions and decisions I made five years ago? We didn’t know each other then. But even if we had, my decision would stand.’

  His blue eyes were nearly hidden from her, his pupils had widened with anger, their blackness almost taking over his eyes. He held up his hand. ‘Don’t, Gemma. Don’t ever try and tell me something about my sister. And don’t dare give me advice on surrogacy. Stay away from my sister. I don’t want you anywhere near her. She has enough to deal with, without finding out what you’ve done.’ There was a finality about his words. ‘As for who am I to stand in judgement of you? I’m your work colleague, Gemma. And that’s all I’ll ever be.’

  And with that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the door.

  All the pent-up energy and frustration that had been holding Gemma together disintegrated in an instant. Her legs turned to jelly and she collapsed on the sofa, sobbing.

  Things couldn’t be any worse. How on earth could she and Logan work together now?

  And how on earth would she survive on Arr
an once word got out?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘MUMMY, WHAT DOES “belt up” mean?’

  Gemma choked on her cornflakes and milk spluttered everywhere. A fit of coughing followed and Isla calmly walked around the table and started hitting her on the back.

  After a few seconds the coughing stopped. Gemma stood up and walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass for some water.

  ‘Where on earth did you hear that, Isla?’ She was horrified and racking her brains to try and think who had spoken like that around her daughter.

  Isla was back to solemnly spooning her cereal into her mouth. Sometimes she seemed so much older than five. ‘Granny Scott said it to Logan. He’s her baby, you know,’ she added with a nod of her head. She was crayoning with her other hand, concentrating fiercely on her drawing.

  Gemma tried not to smile. ‘Yes, I did know that.’ She sat back down at the table. Why on earth would Mary be speaking to Logan like that? She chose her words carefully. ‘Did she actually say those words to Logan?’

  Isla nodded. ‘Why, Mummy?’ Then something obviously dawned on her and her eyes widened. ‘Is “belt up” a swear word, Mummy?’ she whispered.

  Gemma took a sip of her tea. ‘Not exactly. But it’s not something I’d like to hear you say. It’s definitely not a very nice thing to say to someone.’

  Isla nodded. ‘Logan wasn’t happy with his mum. He stomped around the house and slammed the door.’ She rummaged through the box for another crayon.

  Gemma winced. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be exposed to any family arguments.

  ‘His mummy told him he was being stupid.’ Isla was saying it matter-of-factly as she finished her breakfast and her drawing.

  Gemma bit her lip. She should cut this conversation dead—she knew she should. But curiosity was killing her. ‘Why did Mrs Scott say he was being stupid?’

  Isla shrugged. ‘Not sure.’ Then it seemed as if a little brainwave hit her. ‘She called him something else too. Ir-irr-national.’

  Gemma smiled at the mispronounced word. ‘Irrational?’

  Isla nodded. Gemma could feel her heart rate quicken. Had they been discussing her? Had Logan told his mother about her? She cringed. And if he had, would the news travel? Would people start treating her differently?

  Isla finished her drawing. ‘There. It’s for Logan. Do you think he’ll like it?’

  She started. ‘You did a drawing for Logan? Why did you do that?’ She stared at the picture. Logan on his boat. Her cheeks flushed—automatically going to her last memories of being there.

  She swallowed, despite the huge lump in her throat. Isla was smiling at her picture. ‘I think he’ll like it. He read me a book the other day about ten little tugboats. I think it’s my favourite now.’

  Gemma tried not to grimace. She knew that Logan would see Isla at his mother’s house. But it was obvious that he wasn’t letting their fallout affect his relationship with Isla. In a way she should be happy. He was interacting with her daughter. He was forming a relationship with her and Isla obviously liked him. But she couldn’t bear the thought of them talking about her. She’d experienced that enough for one lifetime. And here it was, starting all over again.

  It didn’t matter that it sounded as though Mary had tried to talk some sense into her son. Had told him he was being irrational. Mary had the same loyalties and ethics that he did. Claire was her daughter, just like she was his sister. But Mary obviously had the ability to step back and see the wider picture.

  It was just a pity that Logan didn’t.

  Gemma finished rinsing the plates and turned to face Isla. ‘Mum’s off today. Fancy going down to the beach with your fishing net and we’ll see what we can catch in the rock pools?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Isla jumped off her seat and scurried off to find her shoes. Gemma grabbed her jacket. She was determined to hold her head high. She’d made the right decision. And it was no one else’s business but hers.

  Heaven help anyone who tried to tell her differently.

  * * *

  The tension in the air could be sliced through like a thick, double chocolate cake. But a big piece of chocolate cake would be much more enjoyable than this. It was affecting everything and everyone around them.

  Julie was running around in the surgery like a headless chicken. She jumped every time he asked her to do something and barely looked him in the eye. Even his usual patients, who normally wanted to spend half their day in his consulting room, seemed to be catapulting in and out of the surgery. What on earth was going on?

  He knew that Gemma was meeting today with Mags, the health visitor, and Edith, the midwife, to discuss some patients there were concerns over. But he hadn’t seen her at all today so had no idea what was going on.

  He walked down the corridor to the staffroom, where he could smell the coffee brewing. The smell of coffee brewing in this place was like the Pied Piper with his magic pipe, usually luring all staff members out from their offices.

  But the staffroom was empty as he walked in. Milk was sitting on the counter, along with a number of freshly washed cups. Someone had just been here.

  He heard the low mumble of someone singing as he opened the cupboard in the search for some biscuits. Two minutes later the singing got a little clearer as Gemma walked in. She was wearing a red summer dress, a pair of flat sandals and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

  Her whole body stiffened as soon as she saw him. ‘Oh, sorry, Logan. Didn’t realise you were here.’

  Tension again. All around them. He eyed the packet of biscuits in her hand. ‘I was searching in the cupboard for something to eat—I see you were doing the same.’

  Why had he felt the urge to fill the silence around them? Because, like it or not, and whether he understood her or not, he was drawn to Gemma like a magnet. It was driving him crazy. And probably making him unbearable.

  He hated things that weren’t rational. He hated things that couldn’t be explained logically. Was it any wonder his friends nicknamed him Spock?

  He’d spent a good part of the day with Isla yesterday. She was delightful. She was gorgeous. And she was getting under his skin every bit as much as her mother.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been down this road before. It didn’t matter that he’d had a child torn away from him before. No one could help but enjoy her company and she was a happy, well-adjusted, sociable little girl.

  If only he and her mother could be happy, well-adjusted, sociable adults.

  Gemma gave a little nod and walked over to the counter, putting the biscuits down between them.

  She looked gorgeous, and until she’d realised he was there, she’d looked calm and relaxed at her work. No. Happy. She’d looked happy at her work.

  He watched as she filled a coffee cup and topped it up with milk. Yet again, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He wanted to. He wanted to just walk out and not look back. But his eyes were drawn by the curves in her dress and glimpse of tanned leg. She put the milk back in the refrigerator with a bang and spun around. ‘What? What is it you want, Logan? Is it to give me another lecture about a subject you know nothing about?’

  He was taken aback by her venom. He’d been staring. He’d been following her every move and she’d noticed.

  She tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders. ‘What do you want, Logan, because I’m sick of the atmosphere in this place.’ Her words were definite. It was clear she wasn’t going to move until this was resolved.

  He filled up his cup slowly, trying to choose his words carefully.

  The last few days had been a nightmare. He’d discussed with his mother his concerns about Claire. He’d almost fallen off his chair when she’d said that she thought the surrogacy option was worth looking into.

  He couldn’t believe it and he’d exploded and ended up telling his mother all about Gemma and Isla.

  He knew he shouldn’t have. It was Gemma’s business. And she probably hadn�
�t wanted to tell him in the first place. Now he looked back on the conversation he realised she’d probably felt backed into a corner and had had to speak.

  And his reaction hadn’t been the best.

  With hindsight, most of it had been shock value. And he hadn’t felt ready to sit down and be rational about it all. He still had so much guilt about Claire that he couldn’t even think straight.

  But his mother had been blunt and to the point. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about.’ She’d pointed to her chest. ‘I’m Claire’s mother. I’m the one who should have realised she needed some time out and some help. You hardly see her. I see her every few days. If anyone should have noticed that something was wrong, it was me.’

  And then he’d felt even more guilty about putting the burden of responsibility onto his mother. None of this was working out how he wanted.

  Here he was, stuck in a kitchen with a woman who looked ready to kill him, and all he could think about was running his fingers through her hair or touching the tanned skin on her shoulders.

  He took a deep breath. ‘Things aren’t great, are they?’ It was a simple enough statement. Acknowledging that something was wrong but not pointing the finger of blame anywhere.

  Gemma thumped her coffee mug down, sloshing coffee all over the worktop. ‘And that’s your fault, Logan. You’ve been walking about here like a bear with a sore head, snapping at everyone who talks to you. It’s as if there is a permanent black thundercloud hanging over the top of your head. You’re the one that’s created an atmosphere.’

  ‘What?’ Of course he’d noticed the oppressive atmosphere. But he hadn’t realised that he was the cause. ‘I have not,’ he said, automatically on the defensive as he tried to remember the last few days.

  Hmm. He might have been a little short with Julie. And he might have been a bit snappy with some of the rest of the staff too. Not deliberately. But just because his mind was so full of other things.

  Other things like Gemma Halliday.

  ‘Do you know what? If you’re mad at me then be mad at me.’ She waved her arm. ‘Don’t be mad at everyone else. They don’t deserve it.’ She frowned at her cup, noticing the spilled coffee all over the worktop, then fixed him with a steely glare. ‘And to be frank, I don’t think I deserve it either.’