Reunited at The Altar

She lifted her chin. ‘You’re not going to like this.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

She took a deep breath. ‘OK. You wanted it straight, so I’ll give it to you straight. I’m pregnant.’

As the words sank in, his head spun.

Abigail was going to have a baby.

His baby.

‘But... How?’

‘Oh, come on, Dr Powell,’ she scoffed. ‘You did biology A level and a doctorate in biochemistry—at Cambridge, no less. You know how babies are made.’

‘Of course I know how babies are made,’ he said. ‘But how—?’ No, that was the wrong question. ‘When?’

She swallowed hard. ‘It has to be the night of Ruby’s wedding.’ Her breath hitched. ‘I can’t remember if we used a condom. My head’s blank. But it has to be then.’

He knew she was right. They hadn’t made love again until two nights ago, and it would be way too soon for her to know that she was pregnant from then.

Had they used a condom, that first night?

He thought about it, and his head drew a blank, too.

And he didn’t know what to say.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Panic flooded through him.

A father.

Would he even make a good father? Everyone had thought he was close to his own father, and in some ways he had been; but half the time he’d worked so hard, driven himself, just to prove himself to Jim. It had felt almost like being in a competition. And not in a good way.

He hadn’t been great as a son, as a brother, as a husband. So how could he possibly be a good dad?

* * *

Abby knew that look.

She’d seen it in Brad’s eyes before, after Jim’s death. The look that told her he was bottling up his feelings and he was going to withdraw from everyone.

So much for thinking that they’d gone a long way to sort out the issues between them. So much for thinking that Brad would change. He might want to change, but maybe at the end of the day that was simply asking too much of him and he couldn’t.

It looked as if she was going to be bringing up the baby alone.

* * *

No. No, no, no. Brad fought against the panic. This was where it had gone wrong last time, because he hadn’t talked. This was way too important for him to mess up. Even if the wrong words came out, he could fix that. He might have to grovel for weeks, but at least they’d be talking. Silence was what would drive her away.

‘Right now,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what to say. I need to think about this. But what I do know is that I’m here for you. Now and always. That’s not going to change. Ever.’

She didn’t look as if she believed him. Then again, he’d let her down before. How did he convince her that it would be different, now? He took her hand. ‘When did you first realise?’

‘Today. When you dropped me off at the café, I walked in and the smell of cooking bacon made me feel really queasy. And then I didn’t want my coffee.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I thought I was being ridiculous and making two plus two make twenty, until I counted back and realised my period’s a week overdue.’

‘So Ruby’s wedding was right in the middle of your cycle.’ He knew he was analysing this instead of making the right emotional noises, but for pity’s sake he was a scientist. Analysing things was the way he managed his life. It was the way he’d work out what to do next. ‘And you did a test?’

Another tear slid down her cheek. ‘I even went two towns away to buy one, to a supermarket where I knew nobody would have a clue who I was.’

So nobody would gossip. That was the thing about living in a small town: everyone knew everyone else, and also knew all their business. If anyone had seen Abby buying a pregnancy test today, the whole of Great Crowmell would have known by now.

‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘And it was positive.’ It was a statement, not a question. Even though she was probably panicking every second that she waited for the results, Abby wouldn’t have misread it.

She nodded. ‘I bought one of the digital ones, the ones that actually use words instead of coloured lines, so there could be no mistake. No squinting at it and trying to work out if there’s really a line or if you just think it’s there. Plain text.’