The following day, Frankie stood with baby Edward in the foyer of the hospital. Lucas hadn’t come to her room the night and she’d woken feeling more alone than she had after finding out about Joey’s duplicity.
Lucas had told her, with great reluctance, that Charles was Edward’s great-grandfather. Obviously, he didn’t want to hurt her but there was something more, something she couldn’t quite work out. Lucas had looked as though he’d seen a ghost, almost as though he’d lost something precious.
She looked down at the sleeping child, not caring that tears were running down her face. It seemed all she’d done since arriving on Astoria had been to give her emotions free rein. Though her previous tears had been for other people, these were all for herself.
Lucas had been right; she’d denied the truth. She’d become way too attached, too quickly, to Victoria’s baby. She had harboured secret thoughts about taking the baby home with her and adopting him. Knowing he wasn’t hers to love hadn’t stopped the tide of emotion that flowed over her every time she looked at him.
Lucas approached, looking even worse than he had during their conversation about Charles. His curls stood away from his forehead as though he’d spent the night pulling his hand through his hair, as he did when he was frustrated; his jaw was heavy with stubble and his eyes squinted against the morning sun.
His expression softened as he reached her side and saw her distress. “I never should’ve let this go so far.”
“It wasn’t your decision to make, Lucas, it was mine. I don’t regret caring from him since Victoria left.”
“You were already so fragile. I shouldn’t have let you get so attached.”
“As though you had any choice, Lucas. You warned me, I didn’t listen.” She gave a helpless shake of her head. “I couldn’t help but become attached to him.”
She ignored the fact he thought she was fragile. In the circumstances, she’d been tough, definitely not weak. Frankie ran a finger across the baby’s smooth brow and kissed his forehead.
Charles and Hettie arrived, carrying a bag stuffed full of baby supplies they’d taken from the paediatric wing upstairs.
“Where will you stay?” Lucas asked the couple.
Frankie tried to say something—anything—but she couldn’t force the words past her tightened throat.
“We’re going straight over to the nearest camp. Hopefully we’ll find Victoria there. If not, we’ll leave word and go to Hettie’s. Her home is still standing,” Charles answered, looping an arm around Frankie’s shoulders.
“I don’t suppose this old man told you we dated some back in the day?” Hettie asked, looking between Lucas and Frankie.
“He did not.” Lucas shot a mock stern look at Charles. “I thought he’d managed to charm you in a world-record two days.”
Hettie snorted. “I’d hardly call him charming. He’s old, I’m old. We’re both lonely. I know he’s not a serial murderer. Sharing a home is economically viable, given the state of Astoria. It’s common sense.”
“She loves me.” Charles grinned.
Despite her distress, Frankie raised a smile. She knew they were deliberately trying to jolly her along to lessen her distress as they took Edward. Much as she appreciated their efforts, she couldn’t imagine ever feeling happy again. Everything hurt and overwhelming loss slithered around her like a spectre.
“Frankie.” Lucas spoke quietly. “It’s time.”
She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and handed the baby over to Hettie. Frankie folded her empty arms over the pain in her stomach but that didn’t stop a moan of pain forcing its way past her closed lips.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t….”
Lucas folded her into his arms, helping her to remain upright.
“You know we’ll take good care of him, Frankie. Lucas knows where I live. You can come see Edward before you go home.” Hettie spoke quickly.
Charles rubbed her back. “You’ve done a wonderful job, girl. I will never forget your care for this child or the fact you and the Doc saved my life. Never.”
Frankie nodded, robbed of the ability to answer them as her belly pulled tight with grief. She gripped the back of Lucas’s scrubs, the horribly raw sounds of her own sorrow loud in the empty foyer.
The heavy outer door whooshed open and let in the clammy, humid mid-morning air.
“It’s her! It’s Frankie!”
“Who’s she with?”
The intrusive calls of the media hit her like slaps to the face. Her distress morphed into molten anger. She fought to free herself from Lucas’s arms but he held her tighter, his arms bands of steel.
“I’ll deal with it.”