‘I understand from your family doctor that you also lost your sister recently?’
Imogen could have howled with impatience. Why didn’t he just tell her what was wrong with her?
Thierry’s warm hand caressed her shoulder in a gesture of support that helped her gather her scattered wits.
‘That’s right. She died suddenly in an accident.’
‘And then your mother became ill?’
Imogen nodded. ‘Very soon afterwards. But I don’t see how that’s relevant.’
Sympathetic grey eyes held hers. ‘Stress and grief can do amazing things, Madame Girard.’
‘I don’t understand.’ She leaned forward, dislodging Thierry’s grip. ‘Please, just tell me what’s going on.’
‘I’m pleased to say that, on the basis of these very extensive tests, there’s nothing physically wrong with you.’
‘But that can’t be! I’m not imagining those headaches. They’re so bad they even affect my vision.’
The doctor nodded. ‘I’m sure they are. Tell me, are they still as frequent?’
Imogen hesitated, calculating. ‘No, not as often as before.’ She spoke slowly. ‘I haven’t had one since Paris.’ She couldn’t remember the exact date and darted a sideways glance at Thierry but he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was fixed on the doctor.
‘So you’re saying all this is the result of stress?’ Thierry’s voice held a note of disbelief that matched her own. ‘There’s no physical cause?’
‘That doesn’t make the pain any less real. I have no doubt the symptoms your wife has experienced were every bit as disturbing as ones caused by a tumour.’ He looked down at his notes then up at Imogen. ‘It seems to me that you’ve been through a very traumatic time, Madame Girard. The best remedy is rest, and...’ a small smile played at his mouth ‘...something positive in your life. Like a baby to look forward to.’
‘You’re serious?’ Imogen couldn’t take it in.
‘Absolutely. The symptoms you’re experiencing will pass with time.’
A great hiccupping sob rose in her throat, and she crossed her arms around her middle, folding in on herself as shock detonated at her core. Through a blur of emotion she heard the doctor reassure her, telling her he’d be happy to see her again if she had any questions later, and more that she didn’t really take in.
All she registered was that she was okay. She and her baby were going to live. Everything would be all right.
And one other detail. The fact that Thierry hadn’t touched her again. She missed the warmth of his large, reassuring hand.
* * *
‘I feel like such a fool,’ she said again, watching the streets pass by as Thierry drove them out of the city. ‘I just can’t believe it. It seems so incredible.’
Thierry didn’t say anything. When she turned to look, his profile was set in lines of concentration, his brow furrowed and his mouth firm.
The traffic was heavy, she told herself. Of course he needed to focus on that. Even to her own ears she sounded like a broken record, replaying the same phrases again and again. But she needed to talk about this to make it real. It was so unexpected, so much the miracle she’d never dared hope for, that she couldn’t quite believe it.
Her palm covered her belly and gratitude overcame her. Her baby would be all right. She felt the weight of every anxious night ease from her shoulders as tears pricked her eyes. She let her head sink back against the headrest, relief vying with so many other emotions she couldn’t get a grip on.
Just as well it was Thierry driving. She wouldn’t have trusted herself.
‘I still don’t believe it,’ she murmured. ‘The one and only time I act on impulse.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘All my life I’ve been cautious, the one who never acted rashly, always considering the pros and cons before making a decision. Yet that one time I acted on the spur of the moment...’
That day in the Sydney waiting room, defeat had pressed down so hard, there’d seemed no room for doubt. She’d known she had the same fatal illness as her mother. ‘I should have stayed for that appointment instead of haring off to the other side of the globe.’
But if you had, you’d never have met Thierry. You wouldn’t be expecting this child.
Shocking as it was to find herself pregnant, Imogen couldn’t wish that undone.
She turned and peeked at Thierry through her lashes. His jaw was hard-set, emphasising the strong thrust of his nose and the slashing lines of his cheekbones.