THE DREAM CHILD (18 page)

“It’s not mine,” he grated out, clenching his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

Sophie took a step towards him, and held out the small swaddled bundle. “Here Victor, why don’t you hold him, hold your son.”

“No!” Victor took a step back, but she held the baby closer, and he saw the tiny face, unfocused blue eyes blinking up at him, a rosebud mouth, cute little nose, and blonde curls.

“
No!”
he yelled, taking another step back.

She was taunting him with another man’s child, teasing him with what could never be his.

He turned and ran blindly into the night. Running… Running… Always running… To wake with tears in his eyes and angry welts on his palms from the struggle not to take the child, and its mother, into his arms.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophie was having the dream again in which she stood cradling her newborn baby, looking lovingly down at the tiny face, only to glance up to see Victor standing a few feet away in a shadowed alcove, despair clouding his face.

It made her long to take the pain away, and the only way she could think of was to give him his child.

“Here Victor, why don’t you hold him, hold your son.”

And like every other time she had the dream, he took a step back in denial, rejecting the child, rejecting her, before he turned to flee from them into the night.

As always Sophie woke with tears in her eyes, and her hand pressed to her swollen abdomen.

Her baby was due any day now, and she’d been having the same dream every night for the past three months.

It was driving her insane, because she knew he’d never accept the child. So why did his image continue to haunt her? Her only hope was that once the baby was born the dreams would go away.

And she couldn’t wait for that day. Apart from the torment of that dream, she was so hot and uncomfortable it made her want to scream. It was the hottest time of the year, the beginning of March, and trying to get everything organised feeling like a blimp hadn’t been easy.

The nursery was ready. She’d sold most of her beads and bead books on ebay during the weeks of her confinement, making quite a tidy little sum, enough to pay some of the doctor’s bills anyhow. But there had been some she couldn’t part with, so her own room was now rather cluttered with the extra desk and cupboard in it.

Her family had tried to talk her into moving somewhere larger, but Sophie hadn’t the energy to try and sell her unit, let alone trudge around looking at real estate in search of a villa or town house. Her mother said she and the baby could come and stay with her in the weeks after its birth, but Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She’d been warned about the prospect of post-natal depression. Because of her single mother status, her doctor was concerned she’d be a prime candidate for it, considering her history, and being stuck alone in a small unit with a tiny baby.

Somehow Sophie doubted it. She wanted this baby too much to think she’d get depressed about it. The only thing that bothered her was those cursed dreams about Victor.

She had no idea where he’d ended up working, not daring to look up his name on the staff database. She’d worked till the final six weeks, managing to hide the evidence of her pregnancy until only weeks before, when she’d suddenly ballooned from a growth spurt.

Of course this had elicited surprise and speculation, particularly from Marie and Louise whom she’d worked with the longest, but since she’d kept her personal life pretty much to herself, most of the other staff assumed she was married.

They had given her a lovely send off, with gifts for the baby, and an aromatherapy massage voucher for her.

She’d applied for twelve months off, knowing she would probably have to return at the end of that time, if not before, as half of that would be without pay. Since her family lived so far away she hadn’t mentioned any of this to them, but knew if she got into financial trouble, they’d help out any way they could.

Sophie wandered aimlessly about her silent apartment, waiting for the first signs of labour. She’d felt a few twinges over the past few days, and her doctor had told her the baby’s head was engaged, so it was only a matter of time.

She felt restless and bored, and contemplated going for a walk, but didn’t want to go too far from her home or her overnight bag, packed and ready beside the lounge.

Rita had told her to ring and she’d get Simon to drop whatever he was doing to take her to hospital. Her sister was tied down with her own new addition, another little girl they’d called Bernadette, or Bernie for short.

It made Sophie think of the names she had churning around in her head. A few weeks ago she’d changed her surname back to Bloom, her maiden name.

Since she’d never asked the ultrasound technicians to check the sex of the baby, she had a couple of boys and girls names in mind. What she couldn’t understand was why the baby was always a boy in her dreams. Like those she’d had to conceive the baby, were these ones also trying to tell her something?

The sudden knocking on her front door startled her, and she stopped in mid-stride, feeling a distinct cramp grip her back. Could this be it? she asked herself, the onset of labour.

It wasn’t until it had passed that she waddled over to the door, and unbolted it. Expecting it to be her sister with Lachlan and baby Bernadette, she didn’t recognise the man standing there at first.

Even though all the bruises and cuts on his face and arms appeared to have healed, he still didn’t look well. His face was gaunt and his skin pale. He also looked like he’d lost weight. His hair, which had always curled so becomingly about his face and collar had lost its golden shine, looking dull and lank.

“Vic! Wh – what on earth are you doing here?” she asked in stunned amazement.

“I want to know what the Hell I have to do to get you and that kid out of my dreams,” he said harshly, motioning to her distended stomach.

“Wh – what?” she stammered, taking a step back.

“Every night for the past three months I’ve had this one dream, over and over again, in which you keep telling me that child is mine, and you’re trying to make me hold him. It’s driving me
insane!
”

Sophie clasped her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she gasped through her fingers. “That’s the exact same dream
I’ve
been having.”

“What?” It was his turn to look stunned.

“Maybe you’d better come in. I don’t think we should discuss this on the doorstep, do you?”

“No, I suppose not.” He stepped over the threshold, amazed beyond belief that they were having the same dream. He was sure he’d never heard of anything like that happening to anyone else.

As he walked over to the lounge he could see into her spare room. Complete with cot, baby furniture and stuffed toys, it looked ready to welcome the newcomer.

Sophie was surprised he would have thought of that. It hadn’t even occurred to her until she’d taken it out of the car, and then tried to manoeuvre it up to the first landing. “I’ve decided to leave it in the garage and just carry the baby in my arms.”

“Looks like you’ve got all your bases covered then.” He turned to see her ease herself into the lounge chair opposite. “It can’t be long now. You’re huge.”

“I feel it too. Any day now… In fact I think I’m feeling another twinge.”

She shifted uncomfortably, a grimace on her face, but even with her enormous belly, she still looked beautiful to him.

He had deliberated for days, trying to decide whether or not to see her about the dreams, but the fact that they refused to go away, meant there had to be a reason for them, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, so he could finally put this part of his life behind him.

As if remembering all that he’d lost wasn’t bad enough, to constantly have that baby thrust at him, hearing her tell him to take the child, that it was
his
, was driving him to distraction. He hardly slept, couldn’t concentrate at work, had no appetite, and no interest in anything, except to see her.

Victor nodded, and Sophie took him through the sequence which never varied, never changed, how he rejected her and the child every single time.

“Well he does have blonde hair, but aren’t all babies’ eyes blue when they’re born?” he said eventually. “Why do you want to convince me he’s mine now, when all those months ago you told me you had a one night stand? Tell me what’s going on, Sophie?”

“Why don’t
you
tell me what’s going on?” she shot back. She was really going to lay it on the line now, but she didn’t care any more. She had nothing more to lose. So what did it matter if she finally told him the truth, a truth she knew he’d never accept.

“After years of trying to have a child, I finally fall pregnant, not through IVF, not through sex, but through a
dream.
I know this is going to sound insane, but I dreamt about you nine months ago, extremely explicit dreams that felt all too real, and happened to coincide precisely with my due date. Now you know why I made up the one night stand.”

Victor sat there staring at her in utter wonder, barely believing it to be real. She’d shared those dreams too, which could only mean one thing, she
was
carrying his child, which was precisely what their current shared dreams had also been trying to tell him.

Somehow a miracle had happened, a wonderful gift delivered unto both of them. But would she believe him when he told her his side of the story, particularly after his callous rejection of her all those months ago?

“I knew you’d think it crazy, but that’s how it happened from my perspective –“

But Victor cut her off, by getting up and coming to kneel down beside her lounge chair. He took both her hands in his. “I believe you Sophie, because I had those dreams too. They were something special, weren’t they?”

Sophie felt her cheeks burn. “You had the same dreams?”

“Want me to run through one of them in step by step detail?” he said with a small quirky grin.

Sophie vehemently shook her head, her face flushing even redder. “I thought I was going mad, particularly when I saw you for the first time in my office.” And then she remembered how he’d reacted once he’d seen her, stomping angrily out of the tea room.

“I never knew it would feel so hard,” he observed, stroking her through the thin cotton of her dress. Then he felt something move under his hand, and he snatched it away. “What was that?”

“Probably a foot or a knee, It’s just bubs wanting to say hello,” she told him with a smile.

“That must feel pretty weird from your perspective.”

Sophie groaned suddenly. Letting go of his hand, she clasped her back. “Now that one hurt. And it was only ten minutes since the last one, so if I have one more I’m heading straight for the hospital.”

“I’ll take you now, if you like.”

“Just let me see if they’re going to become regular first… So do you believe me now about the baby Vic?” she had to ask.