Giving Up The Ghost

Giving up the Ghost

By Emma Daniels

Copyright 2011 Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

Belinda Carter woke with a start. She was shaking with absolute terror, not sure if she was dead or alive, because she had just dreamt about the heart-wrenching sensation of dying in childbirth.

She’d felt the agony of each contraction, the dizziness from gasping and straining to deliver a child that refused to leave her body. In the end she’d collapsed from sheer exhaustion as more and more blood oozed from her. And finally the slow, shallow breaths as her life-force slipped away, sending her spiraling into complete and utter blackness.

Throughout this horrifying ordeal a red-haired man had sat by her side, his weary face awash with fear and despair. Never in her life had she seen such torment in another person’s eyes, as he tried in vain to help her deliver the child that never came. They had been like two green pools of misery, rimmed with red and damp with tears.

There had been no nurses, no doctors, not one piece of medical equipment that Belinda could see. She’d been lying on some lumpy mattress which felt as though it had been stuffed with straw. A kerosene lantern standing in a corner had been the only illumination in a rough wood-paneled room.

When she realized she was awake, and back in her own soft bed under light summer sheets, Belinda sucked in deep, calming breaths to try and shove the horrifying imagery away. Instinctively her hands crept to her abdomen, only now starting to swell from the early months of pregnancy. She felt no pain, no cramps, nothing at all to indicate she was having a miscarriage.

Then what the Hell had that terrifying dream been trying to tell her?

That she was going to die giving birth?

Surely not in this day and age!

She might have to face the prospect of sole parenthood, but women no longer died from being unable to deliver. The medical staff whisked them off to theatre to do whatever was necessary to save both mother and child.

Belinda collapsed back against her pillows, and glanced at the clock radio. It was just after five in the morning, and still black as pitch outside. The neighbors hadn’t even let their dog out yet, the most effective alarm clock she’d ever met. The mutt barked at just about anything, including its own tail.

All Belinda could assume was that the dream signified her own fears and concerns. Getting pregnant certainly hadn’t featured in her immediate plans. But exiting the relationship had.

Now she wondered if she really should call it off. Sam Stanakis would be even less likely to stick around if he knew he had to take responsibility for something. Belinda might have been attracted to his carefree attitude to life in the early stages of their relationship, but she was pretty certain a baby would spell the end of their ‘fun’ period. They’d had a good time together, a relatively satisfying sex life, and he certainly knew how to make her laugh, but woe betide should she want to talk about anything serious. Then he was quick to find some excuse to head home, his dark, laughing eyes turning hard, and a frown furrowing his tanned brow.

For some reason it made her think of the red-haired man and how devastated he’d looked. His grief had been so intense, so consuming, rolling over waves of despair over her.

As she recalled his thin, pale face, and sad green eyes, she wondered if she knew him from somewhere. He felt familiar to her somehow.

In her work as an antique dealer, Belinda met all kinds of people. Perhaps she’d come across him at one of the many auctions, deceased estates or trade fairs she attended. He could have been someone selling his family heirlooms, and somehow she’d manifested him into her hideous nightmare. Someone with such bright hair and intense eyes wouldn’t be easy to forget, not to mention his handsome, angular face.

All she could assume was that the nightmare meant she was afraid of losing her baby, now almost eleven weeks along, the most critical period of pregnancy.

Please stay in there little one, she prayed silently, once again pressing her hands to her abdomen.

Belinda might have had her doubts in the beginning, but there was no way she’d part with her baby now. She was over thirty, after all, old enough to shoulder the responsibility, be it on her own, or as part of a couple.

Yes, it was time to tell Sam. He had a right to know, whether he liked it or not.

She would do it today, she decided, since she didn’t have to be in the store. In fact she had nothing too pressing on her plate all week, now that she’d brought Helen up to speed. Helen Howard pretty much ran the shop for her, leaving Belinda free to source new furniture and other bric-a-brac. Sam had been restoring them for her, but he wanted more stable employment, hence his regular visits to Sydney in search of work.

Well, this will be the deciding factor, Sam, my man, she muttered under her breath, as she climbed out of bed. Even though it was still early, dawn’s fingers already reached tentatively across the hillside. Belinda knew she wouldn’t get any more sleep anyway. Her mind was too churned up with worry. She had a sneaking suspicion she already knew which way Sam would go; north, to the big smoke, leaving her to bring up their child alone.

But still she continued to cling to a glimmer of hope as she got dressed, realizing as she tried to do up her jeans that they were now too tight. Yanking them off again, Belinda decided they would probably be too hot anyway, so she pulled on a patterned gypsy skirt with an elastic waistband. Much better, she thought.

Sam was almost forty, old enough to face up to his responsibilities. As if, she thought, recalling how he loved nothing more than to get drunk and muck around with his mates on Saturday nights. He had no brothers and sisters with children to set an example. His parents lived interstate, as did her own. She would get pity little support from them. The only person she could really turn to was her sister, whom she hadn’t seen in months.

Barbara was fifteen years her senior, and had never married, never even had a relationship as far as Belinda could tell. Barbara had become old before her time, looking after her little sister because both their parents worked full time. And now she was employed as a housekeeper for some rich family in Ulludulla, quite content to carry on with her matronly duties. Or so it seemed. Barbara had never confided in Belinda, no doubt still seeing her as too young to understand life’s ups and downs.

Well, now she was experiencing them first hand. Always having prided herself on her business skills and ability to find great deals, Belinda suspected raising a child was going to be vastly different to running a successful antique store.

Belinda lived above her shop, so she didn’t have far to go to work. Once she’d eaten a quick bowl of cereal, she took a cup of coffee and a piece of fruit downstairs with her, where she turned on the computer in the small, cluttered office to check her emails.

The nausea which had plagued her most mornings for the past two months was easing off, as was the tiredness, making her wonder why Sam hadn’t noticed the change in her. She had been going home earlier than usual, if she’d been at his place; seeing less of him during the week than previously, and generally not having much to say. They hadn’t made love in over two weeks. Not that Belinda missed it right now. Neither did she want to do anything that might pose a risk to the baby at this stage of her pregnancy.

Suddenly her mobile buzzed into life, belting out the Dr Who theme, meaning it could only be Sam since he’d downloaded it onto her phone in the first place.

But at this time of the day!

He rarely surfaced before ten.

I can’t take this anymore, Sam lunged straight into his spiel.

Hello to you too, Belinda interrupted. It had never really bothered her before, but today it irked her that he rarely bothered with pleasantries such as hello and goodbye.

Oh Belle, I can’t keep seeing you anymore… I’ve got a new girlfriend in Sydney, and I’m moving up there next week. Her Dad’s offered me a job restoring old cars. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted… His words tumbled over themselves in his haste to get his news over and done with.

Actually I have something to tell you too, Belinda interrupted.

Yes, I know what you've got to tell me, and that's why I'm leaving, Sam asserted, his voice growing cold.

What?... How? Belinda spluttered. She'd thought Sam oblivious to her current condition.

That night a couple of weeks ago when you asked me to get your car keys out of your bag, I saw the pregnancy test. I know what two blue lines means, he sneered. "I was wondering how long it would take

you to tell me."

And you still want to leave? she asked in disbelief.

I know you'd never get rid of it, not now you're over thirty. I thought I made it plainly clear early on in our relationship that I didn't want that kind of responsibility and you said you had birth control all sorted. Obviously you lied -

I did have it sorted, she insisted. I haven't forgotten a single pill, but it must have happened the week I got sick. All that throwing up must have -

I don't care how it happened, he interrupted her harshly. I don't want to be a father, ever.

Belinda was close to tears. His callousness was overwhelming. How could he be so cruel, so heartless? But I can make you pay maintenance.

Just try it. I'll make sure you never get a penny out of me. Besides you're in the money now with your bursting store and more in the back shed. Why hassle me about something I never wanted in the first place? he snarled.

Suddenly the line went dead. The dirty rotten creep had hung up on her!

Belinda was so mad she could scream. Sam couldn’t care less if she died in childbirth, she realized, the image of the sad, red-haired man once again swimming to the front of her mind. It made her aware that merely thinking about him helped calm her. She didn’t feel nearly as angry as she had a moment ago, because she’d had her fingers poised over the redial button, ready to ring Sam back with her own barrage of abuse. Now that she’d had a moment to reconsider, she knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Sam had made up his mind before making the call. He’d probably have turned his phone off already, not wanting to draw things out any more than necessary.

With a heavy sigh Belinda raked her long blonde bangs from her face, and turned her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Work, she thought. Work would help keep her mind off everything else that was troubling her. And that was exactly what she did.

For the next hour and a half Belinda concentrated on answering her messages, writing letters, and going through her inventory.

At a quarter to nine, she heard Helen’s key in the lock, as she let herself in via the front door. A short, slightly chubby woman in her mid-twenties, Helen had a mass of black curly hair and chocolate brown eyes. Even though she looked Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, both her parents were as Anglo as they came. She was also the complete opposite to Belinda, possibly why they got on so well. She had told Belinda often enough to lighten up, to stop taking life so seriously, but laughing had never come easily for the tall blonde woman, perhaps because she’d been brought up by such a dour older sister and distant parents. Barbara wouldn’t recognize a joke if she fell over it.

It made Belinda realize that a happy-go-lucky attitude worked well enough with friends but not in relationships with men. She’d always been drawn to the cheery jovial types, but invariably they ended up going their separate ways. She vowed to put some laughter into her child’s life, and decided it was time to tell Helen about the baby.

You look wrung out, Helen greeted her. Couldn’t you sleep again?

Leave the closed sign up, Belinda said when Helen turned to flip it over. There weren’t any customers lurking about outside were there?

Helen shook her head. I don’t know why you insist on opening at nine anyway. We never get busy until at least ten. She crossed the floor of the shop and entered the office, perching herself on the edge of the desk Belinda was working at. So what’s up?

Just my life caving in around me, Belinda said, cupping her chin in her hands as she rested her elbows on the desk. Guess who rang me at six-thirty this morning?

Helen raised a dark eyebrow. No one I know gets up that early.

Sam. And guess what he had to tell me?

Helen’s jovial round face suddenly turned serious as she realized Belinda’s news could not possibly be good.

He told me he’s moving to Sydney because he has a new job and a new girlfriend.

Well, you were thinking of calling it off anyway, Helen reminded her.

Yes, on my terms and in my own good time. But that’s not the worst of it… I’m pregnant. Almost twelve weeks… And that’s why he left. He wants nothing more to do with me or the baby. She felt the anger rising again, and decided it wasn’t such a bad thing to remain mad with him. If she ever did see him again, she would give him what for, but somehow suspected he’d make himself scarce from now on, making it virtually impossible for her to track him down. This meant he would be unlikely to even tell his parents where he was living, so she’d probably get no information out of them either.

Helen’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Pregnant? she gasped. What on earth are you going to do?

Have the baby of course, Belinda asserted.

Her dark eyes widened. On your own?

Why not? Women do it all the time, and it’s not like I can’t afford a child. It just might get a bit awkward sometimes when I need to go on business trips.

Helen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I could always help out with babysitting, not