Read the book: «The Monticello Baby Miracles»

CHAPTER ONE

‘CONGRATULATIONS, CLAUDIA. You’re having twins!’

Claudia Monticello’s deep brown eyes, inherited from her Italian father, widened like dollhouse-sized plates against her alabaster skin, a present from her Irish mother. In a rush of panic and disbelief, her gaze darted from the gel-covered bump of her stomach to the grainy black-and-white images on the screen, then to the pleased as punch radiologist’s face before finally looking up to the ceiling to where she imagined heaven might be. Not that she thought her parents would be smiling down at her after what she had done.

Suddenly the room became very hot and she struggled a little to breathe. The clammy fingers of one hand reached for the sides of the examination table to steady herself. Two babies. Her mouth had dropped open slightly, but her lips had not curved to anything close to a smile. In denial, she shook her head from side to side and nervously chewed on the nails of the other hand. There had to be a mistake. The radiologist, still smiling at the screen and apparently unaware of the panic blanketing her patient, gently moved the hand piece over Claudia’s stomach to capture additional images.

She must have zoomed in too quickly, Claudia mused.

Double imaged.

Misread the data.

Be new at her job.

But Claudia knew without doubt, as she slowly and purposefully focused on the screen, there was no mistake. There were two tiny babies with two distinct heartbeats. The radiologist was using her finger to point to them. Her excitement was palpable. A reaction juxtaposed to Claudia’s. At twenty-nine years of age, Claudia Monticello was anything but excited to be the single mother of twins. For many reasons... The first was her living five thousand miles from home...and the second was the fact her children would never meet their father.

* * *

Twenty weeks had passed since Claudia discovered she was to be the mother of two and, as she dropped her chin and looked down at her ample midsection while waiting for the elevator, she was pleased to see they were healthy-sized babies. Her waist was somewhere hidden underneath her forty-five-inch circumference and she hadn’t seen her ankles for weeks. Her mood was one of anticipation as she waited for the doors to open on her floor. Her final obstetric visit was imminent and she was thinking about little else than her flight home to London the next day. It couldn’t come quickly enough for her. She couldn’t wait to farewell Los Angeles.

And turn her back on the disappointment and heartache the city had brought.

Or, more correctly, that she had invited into her life.

The day was warm and she was wearing a sleeveless floral maternity dress, one of three she’d picked up on the sale rack in Macy’s when she rapidly outgrew all her other clothes, flat white sandals and her oversized camel-coloured handbag that she took everywhere. Her deep chocolate curls were short and framed her pretty face, but her eyes were filled with sadness. She pictured her suitcases, packed and waiting just inside the door of her apartment. She was finally leaving the place she had called home for almost a year. The fully furnished apartment was in a prime high-rise gated community on Wilshire Boulevard and in demand. The home would have new tenants within days. It had only been temporary, like so much in that town, and she wondered who would be sleeping in the king-sized bed later that week and what the future held for them. She hoped for their sake they hadn’t rushed into something they would live to regret.

The way she had.

* * *

Patrick Spencer waited inside the elevator for the doors to open. It had only managed to travel down one floor and was already stopping. A sigh escaped from his lips. He prayed it wouldn’t stop on every floor on the way to street level. His patience was already tested. He was having another one of those days. A day when he felt frustrated with life and struggled with a cocktail of resentment mixed with equal parts of doubt and disappointment and a dash of boredom with his new reality. Not that his reality was devoid of life’s luxuries, but it was missing the passion he’d once felt. It was another day when he felt cheated out of what he had planned and wanted for his future, even though he was the one who’d walked away from everything. A day when he almost didn’t give a damn. And whenever he had those days he always put on his sunglasses and tried to block out the world in which he lived. He had been cornered into this new life. That was how he saw it.

If things had not gone so terribly wrong, he would be living in London instead of calling Los Angeles home.

* * *

With melancholy colouring her mood, Claudia paid little attention to the tall, darkly dressed figure when she stepped into the elevator. But she noticed the affected way he was wearing wraparound sunglasses with his suit. It was more of the same pretentious LA behaviour.

Sunglasses inside an elevator? In Claudia’s sadly tainted opinion, all men were hiding something; perhaps this one was nursing a hangover. She rolled her eyes, confident in the fact he couldn’t see anything from behind the dark lenses and even more sure he wouldn’t be looking in her direction anyway. Probably obsessed with his own thoughts and problems. Just like so many in this town. A town full of actors, many with an inflated sense of self-worth and a complete lack of morals. Perhaps this man filled that same bill, she surmised. She felt sick to her stomach even thinking about the man who had wooed her with lies and then walked out of her life as shamelessly as he had walked into it.

She patted her stomach protectively and, not caring a damn what he thought, she whispered, ‘You may have been a surprise, boys, but I love you both to the moon and back already.’ Then she silently added, And I will make sure you don’t run away from your responsibilities...or wear sunglasses in a lift!

‘They’re very lucky little boys.’ Patrick said it matter-of-factly. It surprised even him that he had made a comment but hearing the woman speak so genuinely to her unborn children in an accent once so familiar struck a chord with him. In a town so devoid of anything genuine, Patrick felt compelled to comment.

Claudia thought for a fleeting moment his words had been delivered with genuine sentiment. But her body stiffened as she reminded herself there was little or no sentiment in that town. Maternal hormones, she assumed, had temporarily dressed her vision with rose-coloured glasses. His English accent, for some reason, made her drop her guard just a little. Against her better judgement, she looked over to see the man remove his sunglasses. His lips were curved slightly. Not to a full smile, not even a half smile, but she could see his teeth just a little. They were almost perfect but not veneer flawless.

He was tall, six foot one or two, she guessed, as she was five foot nine in bare feet or the flat shoes she was wearing that day. He was broad-shouldered and, she imagined from the way his shirt fell, buff, but he wasn’t overly tanned. His hair was short and light brown in colour and it was matched with a light covering of stubble on his face. His grooming was impeccable but, aside from the stubble, quite conservative. While his looks, she conceded, were worthy of a billboard, his styling was more professional than the usual LA playboy slash actor type. Or, in his case, an English ex-pat playing the LA field.

‘I’m sorry?’ she finally said after her assessment. She was hoping he would shrug his shoulders, put his sunglasses back on and return to thoughts of himself or his most recent conquest.

But he didn’t.

‘I said that your babies are very fortunate that you care for them so much even before they enter the world. I hope they make you proud.’

Patrick had not said anything like that in twelve years. They were words he used to say every day as a matter of routine, but never so routine that they were not sincere. But something about this woman and the palpable love he could see in her eyes and hear in her voice made it impossible not to make comment. She appeared different from the women he knew.

And a very long way from the women he bedded. She was cute and beautiful, not unlike a china doll. His women were not fragile like that.

And her love for her unborn children was special. It was something Patrick very much appreciated.

Claudia felt her stance stiffen again and her expression become quite strained. His accent was cultured and, with her own English upbringing and resultant class-consciousness, she suspected he had more than likely experienced a privileged boarding school education. His clothes were high end designer. She knew he must have an ulterior motive. All men did. There were a handful of people she had met in the year since she’d left London to make Hollywood her home who had shown a level of genuine kindness but she doubted this man would join those ranks. In fact, she doubted that any man would ever again join that group. Her desired demeanour was defensive and with little effort she reached it. No man was going to get within a mile of her or, more particularly, her children with any line. She had told herself that she had finished with men and all of their agendas. And she decided to prove it to herself.

Her first step would be keeping this man, albeit a very attractive man, at arm’s length. Perhaps even offside.

‘You really should refrain from eavesdropping; it’s rude,’ she said before turning her attention back to the blank gunmetal doors. There—it was done! She had stood up for herself and it brought her a sense of empowerment.

It had been a long time coming and she conceded her ire was directed towards the wrong man but she had finally felt strong enough to say something. And it felt good. As if she was claiming her power back.

But the elevator didn’t feel good or seem to have any power. It seemed to be slowing and, for want of a better word in her head, since she didn’t particularly like confined spaces, it seemed to be struggling in its descent. She wished it would pick up speed and get her out of the awkward situation. Deep down inside, she knew her response had been overly dramatic and cutting but she was still proud she had found the strength to do it. There were only another fifteen floors and she hoped the elevator would reach the ground before he handed her a business card and she discovered the reason he’d struck up the conversation. Insurance, investment or even real estate. There had to be something behind the smile. Since she was so heavily pregnant, she felt very confident it was not going to segue into a pick-up line.

With her chin lifted slightly, she felt the colour rising in her cheeks; she played with her small pearl earrings the way she always did when she was nervous.

Patrick considered her in silence for a moment as he watched her fidget with the small pearl studs. He had made an uncharacteristic effort to acknowledge her pregnancy and he was taken back at her disparaging remark. He hadn’t expected it as she had appeared at first glance to be very sweet. Her pretty face was framed with dark curls and he thought she had an innocence about her. He hadn’t foreseen her reaction and to his mind he definitely did not deserve the harsh retort. He wasn’t going to take it on the chin.

Without making eye contact as he stared at the same gunmetal door, he decided to answer her abrupt reply with one equally insensitive. ‘I think you’re the rude one here. You enter a lift, or should I say elevator, due to our location, with only one other person, that being me, and begin a conversation with your unborn children, for which I did not judge you to be mad, but in fact complimented you, and then you remark that I’m rude for making a comment.’

Claudia was surprised by his formal and acerbic rebuttal. His response had been articulate and he had not raised his voice but she wasn’t in the mood to eat humble pie. Men, or rather one man, had just let her down very badly and she wasn’t going to break her promise to herself. They were all the same if they were given the opportunity. And she had no intention of ever giving a man such an opportunity with her again.

With her eyes facing straight ahead at their shared focal point, she was about to reply when she was stopped by a twinge in her stomach. Her body stiffened with the pain and she hunched a little, almost protectively.

She knew it couldn’t be a contraction. It was too early. One hand instinctively reached for her babies and her stomach suddenly felt hard to her touch. She was grateful the stranger was looking away as she leant a little on the elevator wall. She told herself it must be the Braxton Hicks contractions that her obstetrician had mentioned but it seemed to be quite intense and more than a little painful.

It passed quite quickly and finally, after catching her breath, she replied, ‘I think it was obvious I was having a private conversation. And clearly you are judging me, by implying that I’m mad. That’s hardly a nice thing to say to someone you don’t know.’

‘You’re right,’ he responded and turned to face her. ‘I concede it was less than polite but you have to agree that you most definitely left your manners back up on the thirty-fourth floor.’ He looked away as he finished his tersely delivered response and checked for mobile phone reception.

By his abrupt tone and the fact he had noticed which floor she lived on, Claudia looked out of the corner of her eyes at him and wondered for a moment if he was a lawyer. Lawyers always paid attention to details that the general public ignored. Of course, she thought, she would have the slowest ride to the ground with an overbearing man with a legal background. She dropped her chin a little but not to admire her middle; instead she looked tentatively across the elevator to where the man stood. He was wearing highly polished shoes. Slightly raising her chin, she noted his perfectly pressed charcoal-grey slacks and finally, with her head turned a little more in his direction as she gave in to her curiosity, she saw his crisp white shirt and jacket. She had thought initially that he was wearing a suit but on closer, but not too obvious, inspection, she could see flecked threads in the weave. And then there was his expensive Swiss watch. Not forgetting the fact he was already in the elevator when she’d entered, which meant he either lived, or had a client, on the only floor above her. The penthouse on the thirty-fifth floor.

Suddenly she felt another twinge. She wanted to get out of the lift and get to her obstetric appointment immediately. She didn’t want to be dragged into a conversation.

‘I apologise—I’m sorry,’ she returned sharply and without emotion as she once again faced the elevator doors. She rubbed the hollow of her back that was beginning to ache. The niggling pain was spreading and becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She just wanted the short time in the relatively tiny space to be uneventful, so she took the easy option and hoped the conversation would end there.

But it didn’t.

‘Frankly, I think I’m a little past caring for your less than genuine apology.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Claudia knew the handsome stranger had called the situation correctly; she just didn’t want to admit it.

‘I think you’re just giving me lip service,’ he continued. ‘Forget I said anything nice at all. To be honest, I’m sorry I did, so let’s just go back to an awkward silence that comes with sharing an elevator with a stranger and hope the thing picks up speed for both of our sakes.’

Claudia felt a little tug at her heart. The stranger really had been trying to make pleasant conversation and compliment her in the process and she had shot him down.

‘Gosh, I did sound awfully rude, didn’t I?’ she asked, as much to herself as him. Wishing she had not been as dismissive and had put some meaning behind the words, she offered a more contrite apology. ‘I really am sorry. I do mean it.’

‘Perhaps.’

Her eyes met his and she could see they were not warm and forgiving but neither were they icy. They were sad. They were filled with a look close to disappointment and she felt her heart sink a little further. She had never been quite so rude to a stranger before. Heaven knew what day he had endured and she had behaved abominably.

Circumstance had made her distrust the male population. She had not even thought how her behaviour would affect the handsome stranger sharing the slowest elevator on the west coast of North America, until he’d pointed it out. But she was surprised by his reaction. She assumed most men would have shrugged it off but he seemed genuinely disappointed, almost as if he was directing the disappointment inward for some reason.

With a humble and heartfelt expression she replied, ‘I really do apologise. I’m very sorry and there’s really no excuse for my behaviour.’ Taking a deep breath, she outstretched her hand like an olive branch. ‘I’m Claudia Monticello, slightly hormonal mother-to-be and having a very bad day. I could add that I’m perhaps a little stressed right now as I’m flying back to the UK tomorrow and I have so much still to do. I have to see my obstetrician and finish packing. There’s so many things I have to remember...’ And so much she wanted to forget. But she had no intention of telling the handsome stranger that.

‘Well, perhaps you do have a reason to be a little on edge,’ he said, looking into her eyes, almost piercing her soul. ‘Apology accepted. Patrick Spencer, doctor, not eavesdropper.’

Claudia smiled. She had picked the wrong profession too. As she kept staring into his eyes, she noticed they were a deep blue with flecks of grey. Like storm clouds swirling over the deepest part of the ocean. She felt herself wondering why he hid such stunning eyes behind dark sunglasses. They were too captivating a shade to be hidden. She shook herself. His eye colour was not something she needed to busy her mind with at that time. Nothing about him was her concern, she told herself as she noticed there was only a short trip of eight floors until they reached street level and she would never see the man again.

But it did feel strangely reassuring to be in the elevator with a man with a medical background after the fleeting contraction she’d experienced. She knew they were commonplace nearing the latter part of pregnancy and it appeared to have been a once-off but his nearness made her feel a little safer.

No, very safe and she didn’t know why.

Out of a sense of awkwardness in the silence that were now sharing, she glanced up again to check how many floors they had travelled. The elevator had not picked up any speed. She was glad they weren’t in the Burj Khalifa in Dubai or the boys would be ready for pre-school at the rate they were travelling.

With her mind brought to travel, Claudia was excited to be heading home. Once her obstetrician signed her flight clearance she would be on her way back to London. Her contract with the television studio had finally ended, leaving her free to return home. Instinctively, she patted the recent ultrasound scans tucked safely in her bag. She had no swelling in her legs and her blood pressure had been fine at the last visit. Her pregnancy had been uneventful until the twinge, something which was at complete odds with her disastrous personal life. But she was grateful she had something positive upon which to focus.

As they passed the fourth floor and the elevator seemed to almost pause, suddenly she felt another more intense contraction. Claudia tried to smile through it but suspected it was closer to a grimace. Braxton Hicks contractions were a lot different to what she had expected. She had been told that a woman could experience up to four in an hour but she hadn’t thought they would be so close together.

Patrick eyed her with concern but, just as he opened his mouth, the stalling elevator came to a jarring halt. Claudia grabbed the railing to steady herself and they both looked up to see the floor light flickering and waited for the doors to open. But they didn’t. Instead the lift dropped what she imagined to be another floor and stopped. Patrick had already taken two purposeful steps towards Claudia and she felt his strong arms wrap around her to prevent her from falling. His touch should have worried her but instead a wave of relief washed over her. She was not alone.

‘Let’s get you on the floor. It will be safer.’ Hastily he pulled off his jacket and dropped it to the elevator floor before gently lowering Claudia onto it.

‘Your jacket—it will be ruined.’

‘At this moment, a ruined jacket is not my concern. You are,’ he said matter-of-factly but with an unmistakable warmth in his voice and one Claudia didn’t believe she truly deserved after her behaviour. ‘When are the babies due?’

‘The twins aren’t due for another six and a half weeks and I’m fine, really I am,’ she insisted as she tried to sit gently and not move and crease the jacket underneath her. ‘I’m flying out tomorrow with the doctor’s approval; it’s the last possible day that the airline will allow me to travel.’

‘You’re cutting it fine with the whole long haul at almost thirty-four weeks,’ he replied with his brows knitted. He added, ‘You seemed to be in pain a moment ago.’ It was a question he framed as a statement. He didn’t want to appear overbearing but he was concerned. He was also doubtful whether she should be travelling at such a late stage of pregnancy. Even with a clean bill of health, it seemed risky for her to take a long haul flight so close to delivering.

‘Yes, just one of these Braxton Hicks contractions.’

‘You’re sure?’ His frown had not lifted as he spoke.

This time it was a question and she sensed genuine concern. It heightened hers.

‘Absolutely,’ she said, followed by a nod. It wasn’t the truth. The truth was that she had never been quite so scared in her life but she had to push that reality from her mind and remain positive. The worst-case scenario was too overwhelmingly frightening to consider without collapsing into a heap. She had been holding everything together tenuously for so many months her nerves were threadbare.

‘If you say so,’ he told her, doubt about her response evident in his tone. ‘Just stay seated till we reach the ground.’ He retrieved his mobile phone from his trouser pocket, but Claudia assumed there was no reception through the heavy elevator walls as he turned and reached for the emergency telephone.

He didn’t take his eyes away from Claudia, even when the standard response finished and he cut in. ‘This is Dr Patrick Spencer, I’m in Terrace Park Towers, Wilshire Boulevard, not far from Highland. We’re somewhere between the fourth floor and street level and the elevator’s come to a halt. I have a female resident with me. Approximately thirty-four weeks pregnant.’ He paused. ‘No, no, there’s no immediate medical emergency. I have the resident seated and there’s no obvious physical injuries but I want a crew to get us out stat. And after the jolt it would be wise to send an ambulance. The patient may need to head to the hospital for a routine obstetric examination.’

With that he hung up and turned his full attention back to Claudia.

Her resolve to remain calm had deserted her, despite attempts to tell herself she was overreacting. She wasn’t overreacting. Her eyes darted to the steel doors, willing them to open, and then back to Patrick, unsure what she was willing him to do.

‘We’ll be out of here before you know it,’ he said and very gently wiped the wisps of hair from her brow, now covered in tiny beads of perspiration. ‘They’re on their way.’

‘Yes, they are... I’m afraid.’

‘There’s nothing to fear. Just stay calm and the crew will have us out of here very quickly. And there’ll be an ambulance on hand if we need one.’

‘It’s not the crew I’m talking about...it’s the babies. I’m afraid my twins are on their way... This isn’t Braxton Hicks, Patrick. I’m in labour.’