West Wing to Maternity Wing!(17)

This time as she watched him his smile reached his eyes, right up to the  corners. Not like a few minutes ago. His eyes were twinkling. 'I  thought we were talking hypothetical, I didn't realise you'd actually  written it down.'

Amy bent forward and rummaged around her bag, unzipping a pocket inside  and pulling out a piece of red paper, which she carefully unfolded and  placed in the middle of the blanket. Lincoln leaned forward, intrigued.  'Silver pen?' He raised his eyebrows at her. 'Red and silver … ' he nodded  towards her feet ' … just like your toes.'

Amy looked surprised and wriggled her toes in the sand. 'I hadn't even  thought of that, and I was planning on changing my toes.' She wiggled  them again. 'I like the stars but thought maybe midnight blue with gold  stars this time.' She gave a little smile. 'More dramatic.' She waved  her hand at the list. 'That's why I picked the red paper and silver pen,  I wanted it to look bold, strong and powerful. Make me feel confident  that I would be here to complete it.' Her voice had faded away and she  was staring out at the ocean again.

Almost on instinct Lincoln reached out his hand and intertwined his  fingers with hers. It was comfort, that was all. He was comforting a  friend, showing support. So why did he feel the need to tell himself  that inside his head?

He looked down at the paper again and gave her fingers a squeeze. 'I  think I would have to be a billionaire to help you with some of the  things on this list.'

Amy looked embarrassed, pink tingeing her cheeks. 'Not all of them.' She  leaned her head over next to his. 'Some of these were just wishful  thinking.'

He quirked one eyebrow. 'That would be the two-carat diamond ring and the trip to Monte Carlo?'

She nodded. 'Exactly.' And took another bite of her sandwich. 'The others are much more reasonable.'

He looked at the neat, deliberate writing in front of him. Small script, carefully written.





1. Do whatever it takes to have a family.

2. Buy a gorgeous two-carat diamond ring.

3. Go on a trip to Monte Carlo and take a photograph outside the Hotel de Paris.

4. Learn to surf.

5. Learn to salsa.

6. Go to a Star Trek convention.

7. Travel on the cable cars in San Francisco.

8. Go back on the Amazon Aid Boat.

9. Join one of the social networking sites and find old friends.

10. Learn how to crochet and crochet a baby blanket.





A higgledy-piggledy, jumbled-up list. No priorities, just everything down there on paper.

The list looked a little well worn-rough around the edges-as if she'd  pulled it from her bag on many occasions to read it. The red paper was  still bright and the silver ink still glistened in the sun. It should be  a happy, sunny list.

But it terrified him. Because for him it was evidence that at some point  Amy had actually thought she was going to die. She'd actually put pen  to paper and written a list of things she still wanted to do. She may  have said the list was to make her feel better, but Linc was no fool.  People didn't just write these lists to plan ahead-they wrote these  lists as things to do before they died. And the thought made him feel  physically sick. The sun was shining in the sky above him but the hairs  on his arms were standing on end-as if he'd just walked through a chilly  morgue.

He tried to push his thoughts away. He couldn't think about this. It was  making him question everything about himself and his relationship with  Amy. They'd been skirting around things. Playing at being friends-when  they both knew there was a huge potential for more.

Did he want to have a relationship with Amy? Was it sensible? What if  this pregnancy made her cancer come back? How would he feel then? And  what about Amy's baby? Sure, he'd considered all the clinical aspects of  a premature baby, but he hadn't considered the emotional aspects. The  emotional aspects of having a relationship with a woman who had another  man's baby. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that the sperm  donor would never appear. But that was little consolation if something  happened to Amy. Would he be prepared to take on another man's child?  Could he even consider bringing a baby up himself-one he had no genetic  relationship with-if something happened to Amy?         

     



 

Lincoln gave himself a shake. The sun was getting to him. He tried to  focus on the list again and found his heart beating furiously in his  chest. He looked at the items again. It couldn't be a coincidence-the  boat and finding old friends. She'd produced a list when she'd been at  her lowest ebb and two of the references on it could be about him.

Okay, so the list didn't say 'Find Lincoln Adams'. But why would she  want to go back to the Amazon aid boat? And why would she decide to look  up old friends? Was it really all just some strange coincidence, or was  he making a mountain out of a molehill?

He cleared his throat, readying himself to ask the obvious question. 'So how many of these have you actually done?'

Amy gave up on the sandwich and picked one of peaches he'd unpacked from  the picnic basket, taking a big bite and letting the juice trickle down  her chin. 'From the list?' He nodded. She was licking the juice from  her fingers now. 'Just two.' Her voice sounded bright and breezy, as if  she were discussing the latest episode of her favourite TV drama,  instead of the 'try before you die' list.

He gave a little laugh. 'You're joking, right? Two? In five years?'

A wicked smile stole across her face. 'Let's just say I had a bit of a  slow start,' she teased. Her hands rubbed her bump. 'And, anyway, this  is a pretty big one. It's taken up a lot of my time.'

Lincoln leaned backwards. 'Okay, I'll give you that.' He watched as she  discarded the half-eaten peach, wrapping it in a napkin and pulling out a  lemon cupcake. 'Do you finish anything you eat these days?'

Amy peeled the case from the cupcake, tapping her stomach again. 'Not  much room in here these days. I tend to eat little and often at the  moment. I only really finish anything if it's the middle of the  night-for some reason I'm always starving then.'

'So what was number two?'

'What?' Amy was lost in the land of lemon cupcake.

'You said you'd done two things on your list. Number one is obvious so what's number two?'

Amy waved her hand. 'Oh, that was easy. I made myself a page on one of  those social networking sites so I could track down some old friends.'

And with that wave of her hand Lincoln felt his insides plummet. She'd  done the social networking, she'd tracked down 'old friends' and he  obviously wasn't among them.

He shifted uncomfortably on the sand. 'Which one did you use?'

She named the most popular one around, one where he had a page posted.

He bit his bottom lip. 'So did you track down your old friends?'

Amy picked up a can of soda. 'Yeah, loads of them. All my old classmates  from high school, old nursing friends from college, and people from  some of the towns we stayed in as a kid-we moved about a lot.'

Lincoln asked the next question with a sinking feeling. 'So how many friends have you got, then?'

'Eight hundred and forty-two.' Eight hundred and forty-two. As if it  were the easiest thing in the world. Pushing his paltry twenty-six  'friends' into oblivion. Amy changed position on the blanket. Moving up  on to her knees and digging deep in the basket, she lifted her eyes,  giving him an innocent smile. 'You know I reconnected with loads of  people from the Amazon aid boat-Lily Carter, John Rhodes, Frank Kelly,  Gene Hunt, Milly Johnson … ' She finally found what she was looking for, a  bunch of green grapes, and pulled them out from the basket. 'You  know-you should join.'

For the first time in years Lincoln could feel the flush of colour in his cheeks. 'I've got a page,' he murmured.

'You have?' Her eyes were that bright, sparkly way again. 'You should  send me a friend request, then-I'll accept.' A definite twinkle had  appeared in her eye. She was teasing him again.

He rolled over on the blanket, groaning and putting his head in his  hands. 'Okay, spill. How come you never sent me a friend request? You  seem to have sent … ' he waved his arms in front of him, out toward the  ocean ' … everyone else in the world one but me.'

Amy lay down next to him, resting her head in her hands, her hat  flopping over her eyes. She was so close the length of her body was  touching his, her bare legs next to his, the brim of her hat almost  touching his head. She looked out toward the ocean, back at the surfers,  and gave a little sigh.

'It just didn't feel right.'

His face was shadowed under her hat, his blue eyes even darker than normal. 'What do you mean, it didn't feel right?'         

     



 

She looked downwards, towards the sand that was now trickling through  her fingers. 'Some people knew that I'd been sick. They might have asked  me how I was doing. I didn't want you to read it online.'

Lincoln opened his mouth and then stopped. It was time to use his head,  not blurt out the first thing that came to mind. He pushed the thoughts  of why she hadn't sent a private message to one side-along with the quip  about whether it was more appropriate for her to turn up unannounced as  his pregnant wife.