By the morning Julia had made up her mind.

Firstly, she would apologize to Mason. It was not his fault if he had misinterpreted her signals, or – rather – if he had not misinterpreted her signals. She did want him; only she wanted all of him, all of what he was. She knew she would never get this; she knew she had no right to claim it; therefore it was her fault exclusively.

No, really! If the man had loved his wife so much, it was very probable he’d never let the word cross his lips again, nor would he let the notion cross his mind. Not so soon, that was for sure.

Julia was not going to try to compete with Mary Capwell, alive or dead. She had liked her when she was alive, and respected her memory. She respected Mason’s grief, too, and could very well accept it was inconsolable.

What she could not accept was second-rate for herself. She would not be a woman who just happened to be available when Mason suddenly remembered he was a red-blooded man. He had to understand that. If he respected her – and it seemed to her he did – and as he was intelligent enough, she hoped he would understand.

It did hurt.

But in the morning, when she got to the office – half an hour early, so jumpy she was – there was no Mason. He did not appear on time, either, nor later. Julia did not know what to think. She tried phoning him but no one picked up the phone. The nanny at least should have been there, but there still was no answer. She was getting really worried.


*
When Julia walked out, Mason stood stupefied. He’d managed to insult her, had he?

She had said she loved him, and now she said she did not. Maybe what she meant was that he did not love her. But she had no right to demand that from him!

Matthew was breathing heavily.

“Hey,” Mason told him. “Don’t you start now. Please.”

But it was too late. Matt burst out crying.

He cried and cried and cried. He yelled, and then he sobbed. He did not want a bottle, he did not need changing, and he did not look at toys. At first Mason got annoyed with him. “Stop this very instant, do you hear?”

Then he started realizing something was wrong. Ever before, Matt’s behavior had been exemplary.

Desperate, Mason took Matt in his arms and held him close. That seemed to give the little one some comfort. “Just thought Daddy needed cheering up tonight, ah, Matt?” said Mason ironically. He was grateful the yelling had stopped.

It was one of the very few times he was holding the baby, and it felt strangely natural. He touched the baby’s head with his lips.

“Oh no, son. You’re got a fever!”

Matt took his cue and started whimpering again. Mason was desperate. In the dead of night, no nanny around, and he all alone with the sick baby. He panicked.

He put the violently protesting Matt back into his cot and rushed to the phone, to call an ambulance.

*
The ambulance came, and before the doctors took Matt to hospital Mason had had to collect some things the baby might need. However, he was so panicky he could not think of a single thing. He picked some diapers, and a baby hat, and a rattle that lay in Matt’s cradle, and a bottle. That was all probably. Of course he took his credit cards and cash.

“Will he be all right?” Mason asked.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “I hope so.”

That was no answer, in Mason’s opinion. “Is he in pain?” he asked. It looked like he was.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Capwell. Everything will be all right,” said the nurse.

Matt was so helpless, so defenseless, and he was looking at Mason with reproach: how could he allow his little one to suffer so? Daddy was a grown-up, the one in control, wasn’t he? Mason could not stand the gaze. For the first time in his life he found Matthew did look like Mary, and that scared him. It just terrified him.

“Please, let’s hurry up,” he begged.

“It’s just a fever,” the doc said. “Maybe a cold. Of course we will have to do some lab testing to see what it is. Any intestinal disorder?”

Mason shook his head. No, no, he had told them already. He prayed to God and he prayed to Mary that their boy should be safe and sound.

Matt was lying in his arms looking up at his dad, taking a rest after some mighty yelling. All the way to the hospital, Mason never had his eyes off the boy. He felt a bond between them he had never felt before.


*
Mason stayed at the hospital while the blood samples were being taken and while the lab tests were being performed. He paced the floors of the infants’ praying that Matt’d be all right. He never thought he should call anyone, Julia, or his father; it was his baby, and only his hell.

It turned out there was nothing serious with Matthew, thank God. The doc said he could leave the baby there or take him home. Mason hesitated.

What was there at home? There was no mummy who’d look after Matthew. On the other hand, it felt wrong to dump the little one at hospital again.

“Are you sure there’s nothing to worry about?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes, Mr. Capwell. Just a cold. And a fever resulting from it.”

“Could you leave him here just for today? I’d stay with him, and if it’s ok, I’ll take him home tonight.”

“Yes, Mr. Capwell.”

So he stayed. He phoned Mr. McKenna and asked for a day off.


Matt was lying in a tiny cot looking up at his daddy again. His eyes seemed clearer now, without the feverish mist. On the whole he seemed more content after he had got medication, but Mason could not bear to see the bruises the injection inflicted on that tender baby skin. He knew it was necessary, but still it hurt to see it.

“How are you doing, son?” Mason whispered.

Matt smiled, quite unexpectedly. Mason gave him a smile, too, if it was a bit wet; he felt as if he himself had been re-born.

Julia was watching them through the blinds on the glass ward door. It seemed father and son had finally started working it out. She ventured to put her head through the door.

“Mason?” she asked gently.

He raised his head. “Ah, Julia. Come in. See, Matt, we’ve got visitors already. Say hi to Julia.”

“Hi luv,” Julia said. “How are you feeling?”

It was quite okay as long as they did not have to talk to each other, she thought.

At least it seemed Mason did not object to having her there.

/Olga Lisenkova/

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