Seven Days Horizons Read online

  “Why are you creeping around like a burglar?”

  “You scared me half to death!”

  “I thought you were at work.”

  “I thought you were at work!”

  As soon as the first shock had worn off, relief took its place and Wesley lifted Zoe onto his knees in the only chair in the room and patted her back.

  “My darling girl, I think we each had a need to come home. Our minds are so attuned to each other that we came to the same place at the same time.”

  He took a deep breath and gently kissed her cheek. “Are we thinking there’s something important we have to discuss?’

  “You first,” she murmured.

  “All right, then. I want to have a baby with you, my beautiful Zoe.”

  The breath that he had just used was gone and he stopped inhaling so as not to miss a tiny syllable of her reply. Seconds ticked by. The silence in the room deepened.

  Zoe snuggled down into his embrace and the whole story of her doubts and fears tumbled out in rapid succession while Wesley tried to keep up with breathing and thinking and remembering all at once.

  When she finally ran out of words and quivered to a stop, he waited to be sure she was finished, then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “I didn’t know it till recently. I had to think it through myself first. Are you angry with me?”

  He kissed the top of her head and replied, “Never! my darling wife. Never!”

  Chapter 7

  Suzanne had been Zoe’s personal assistant before ascending to the role of Financial Executive Officer at Excelsior. They maintained close contact, as two women banded together in a mostly-male environment are wont to do. Zoe applied to Suzanne for advice on how to extract herself for a weekend in Scotland without alerting the rest of the company and they sat down in Zoe’s office with cups of coffee to see what could be devised.

  “Ugh! This is not the standard of my coffee. What is the new girl using?”

  “Oh, she has some blend she swears by but you’re right, Suzanne. It’s not as good. I’ll do something about it.”

  “Never mind that minor issue, Chief. I have an idea for your weekend.”

  “Good! I can’t take time away again or there will be talk around the company that I am slacking off.”

  “Huh! As if they would dare in my hearing. Why not announce you are doing some research on the Portal project? There must be a breast cancer charity in Glasgow worth taking a look at. I’m sure I’ve seen huge sponsored marathons with the pink ribbons on television around this time of year. Of course there’s no need to give out information at all unless someone important asks questions.”

  “That’s true! As long as you monitor my business calls for me, Suzanne, I could just be on a quick visit to friends up north.”

  Suzanne nodded agreement and Zoe thought this explanation was at least partially correct. She had made a call to Sandra Halder and received an invitation to join her in a Glasgow hotel for a couple of nights. Sandra had said she was due a visit to the Day Care and would be delighted to escort her.

  One more short visit to see her father and Aunt Isobel, and she would have accomplished her goal.

  Wesley was now on board completely. He was encouraging her to do whatever gave her insight and made the idea of a child more acceptable. While she was away, he was going to visit his doctor and be checked out.

  As he declared a few nights ago in bed, “It’s not just you, Zoe. I need to make sure everything is ready from my end of things.”

  She nudged him in the side and they dissolved in laughter at his phraseology. They had laughed a lot since Zoe confessed her worries. Wesley insisted it was the best kind of medicine to guarantee success for any couple, in any endeavour whatsoever.

  Suzanne had not enquired about the purpose of the trip. Zoe relied on her discretion. As the good friend she had become, Zoe knew it was enough for Suzanne that she was trusted by her boss.

  * * *

  Zoe took an early train to Glasgow. It was a clear, cool morning with a promise of bright sun later. Nonetheless, she was wearing a rainproof coat and had pulled the matching cloche hat down over her brow. Suzanne insisted London weather was not a good predictor of what she would find in Scotland. She carried a soft bag with just her overnight things and she had scooped up a pile of newspapers and magazines while waiting for the train. It was going to be a treat to sit back for four hours and relax with trivial news items. She had promised Wesley she would not fret about what she would discover on this trip and she meant to keep that promise.

  The First Class carriage was quiet. Only a handful of passengers occupied the seats and those seemed determined to catch up on business matters. They had no sooner pulled away from the station than an attendant appeared to take her breakfast orders. There was quite an extensive menu on offer including something called a ‘bacon or sausage roll’. Zoe had not eaten such a thing in many years but she had a dim memory of her father buying the sausage version from a bakery he favoured. When breakfast arrived, she discovered the flaky, pastry-wrapped item her father had liked was not what was being served. Instead she found a warm, white bread, floured, bun with a split sausage inside and a good dollop of brown sauce added for flavour. She bit into the roll and her mouth was flooded with tasty sensations. She chuckled silently to think this is what Wesley must have meant when he advised her to eat more in case she was going to be pregnant. According to him, heavier women get pregnant faster than thin ones. This advice, at least, would not be too difficult to take if the rest of Scottish food met a similar standard.

  She was leaning back, sipping a fresh mug of tea and browsing the newspapers when she caught sight of a banner on the front of one of the women’s magazines she had picked up.

  Zoe Morton revealed! See page 45

  With trembling fingers she found the page and saw at once the photo of herself and Wesley she had given to Abigail Beck. The photo had been enlarged and the focus was mainly on their two bodies.

  Her first thought was that she was now exposed. She looked around the carriage to see if anyone else was reading the same magazine. The few passengers were still immersed in mobile phones and tablets but people read all kinds of publications on those devices these days so there was no telling when someone would look across to her and know exactly who she was. Her pleasant anonymity was gone.

  She reached for her hat and pulled it down over her forehead.

  What had she been thinking, trusting a young woman with her privacy? What had Abigail Beck done?

  Zoe was afraid to read the article under the photo but she decided it was best to know the worst.

  The headline did not reassure her.

  Excelsior Exec Exposed?

  She scrambled through the rest of it growing more and more upset as she read. It mentioned the Mexican vacation, the happy expressions and the summery clothes. Next, the speculation began about her companion.

  Is this the mysterious man in the background of Zoe Morton’s private life? Look closely at our reporter’s photo shot to see what appears to be a wedding ring. Is this man Zoe’s husband?

  * * *

  Nervous perspiration was now gathering on her forehead and trickling down her spine. She could feel panic developing and at once she felt an urgent desire for Wesley’s comforting words. He knew her emotions better than anyone else alive. He had shepherded her through the worst trauma of her life.

  This incident had no comparison to that deep shock and fear but fragments of the same terror were beginning to surface. She reached for her mobile phone which she had switched off intending to be out of communication for the weekend. She turned it on but while waiting for it to connect she realized she could not tell Wesley what had happened without being overheard by others around her, thereby drawing unwanted attention; the last thing she needed in the present circumstances. She thought of texting him but that was too impersonal. She wanted to hear his reassuring voice. She needed it now.

>   The glass cover of her mobile phone became a mirror as she switched it off. She saw an unfamiliar, worried face under an obscuring hat and was shocked into action. This was not good. She would not be able to make a private contact with Wesley for some hours but he had given her resources she could call upon anytime and anywhere. Although she had not had occasion to recall his teaching for several years, this was an emergency.

  She sat back again and deliberately calmed her breathing. She closed her eyes and imagined Wesley’s soothing voice.

  “Remember who you are. Remember your strong sense of self. Remember your survival instincts that have brought you safely to this point. Remember the child inside who has been healed. There is nothing to fear now. You are free.”

  She repeated the mantra three times and reclaimed her equilibrium. She was heading to Glasgow where no one cared about her private business. The people who read this colourful magazine were likely to be in England. For the time being she was anonymous. In any case she had to face up to the realities of her life sooner than later, especially if she was about to make major changes that could not be concealed for long.

  Zoe Morton stuffed the hat back in her purse, smoothed down her hair and sat up straight. She would leave the offending magazine behind in the newspaper pile and concentrate on the matter in hand.

  Chapter 8

  Sandra Halder had awakened in a room in the Grand Central Hotel. It was positioned inside the Central Train Station and the constant announcements about arriving or departing trains could be heard in the distance even through the double glazing. Sandra was not fazed by this. She found it exciting to be back in the hustle and bustle of the city after her quiet, retired life on the island of Mull.

  She had several things to look forward to on this short visit. It would be lovely to see her daughters and grandchildren. The little ones grew so fast, it was as if she had to get to know them all over again whenever she returned to the day care facility. Not that she needed to check up on their progress. Joanne had done a great job of helming the operation. She had bought a house in the neighbourhood which allowed her to be on the spot very early in the morning for their first clients. The old family home that had sheltered Sandra and Ian’s family during their childhoods had gradually been converted into a first class facility serving all the needs of babies and children in their care. Nurse Rachel being on board was the factor that reassured nervous parents that they could safely leave their little darlings while they pursued the working lives with salaries enabling them to purchase a home for the future. House prices these days were outrageous, Sandra thought. If she and Ian were starting out now, they would never be able to afford the kind of residence that had provided a home for five and become the excellent day care establishment she had created for her girls.

  Sandra was hoping to see middle daughter Sharon this evening. As financial manager, she supervised the operation of the day care business but it was only one of her concerns. She had accounting jobs for several small businesses in the city, primarily those run by women, in addition to a part-time teaching job. Of all the girls she was the most ambitious and most like her father Ian.

  Sandra had booked a table in the Grand Hotel’s dining room for the evening in hopes she could entertain her daughters and Zoe there before spending the night with Zoe.

  Her thoughts turned to Zoe Morton as she finished brushing out her hair and applying subtle make-up enhancements. It was Zoe who had advised her to wear her hair in an upswept style but that was only one of the suggestions that had changed her life. Zoe’s encouragement had led to a whole renewal of Sandra’s energies. She had returned home from their Lake District week with ambitions to lose weight and take control of her life. The results of those decisions were evident in the mirror image she was inspecting. It wasn’t only her neat figure and well-fitting city outfit, it was there in her expression. No longer the apologetic look of the woman whose life was passing her by with frightening rapidity, she looked confident and serene. The outside matched the inside for the first time in her life.

  Giving the mirror a last knowing smile, Sandra Halder picked up her purse and set off to meet Zoe Morton from her train with the hope that she could somehow return some of the help that had been given to her so generously. Whatever Zoe wanted on this mysterious trip, Sandra was ready and willing to supply.

  * * *

  The taxi ride through the centre of Glasgow soon gave way to the suburbs in the west end of the city.

  Most of the houses were bungalows with established gardens and little walls bordering the property.

  It looked like a nicely settled area to Zoe, much like the house in which she had been raised. Further on, there were newer streets with two storey houses and it was before one of these that Sandra asked the driver to halt. Zoe saw the sign on the front lawn advertising Day Care Services. By the time Sandra paid the taxi fare, a taller version of Sandra had emerged from the garage door with a baby in her arms.

  “Mum! Here you are at last. And this must be Zoe. Welcome. I can’t imagine why you would want to spend time in this mad house but come right in. I’ll give you the tour in a minute. Mum could you come and see something I’ve done in the conservatory? I’ll just be a second, Zoe. Here! Hold on to Adrian for me. He’s good as gold, believe me.”

  The Sandra lookalike had led the way through the garage, into the kitchen and over to a large conservatory, talking rapidly all the while. When she turned and deposited the baby in Zoe’s arms, she almost dropped the child from shock. Before she could protest, Sandra whispered, “Joanne’s always like this. I’ll be right back. Sit here in the rocking chair with Adrian.”

  Zoe practically collapsed into a padded wooden chair with broad arms. It began to move back and forth with her weight. The baby Adrian looked up at this unfamiliar stranger with wide grey eyes which he soon scrunched together as if he was uncomfortable or unhappy. Zoe suddenly realized this little boy was about to cry. How upsetting! She rocked the chair and patted the rigid little back making murmuring noises that she hoped would calm him down enough to prevent an outcry.

  After a minute, this seemed to do the trick. Adrian looked curiously at the stranger’s face and reached up a tiny hand to pull on the wing of black hair hanging down toward him.

  “Ouch!” said the stranger.

  “Ha!” said the boy, and did it again.

  “No!” stated Zoe firmly, withdrawing the hand and blowing a kiss into his palm.

  “Oooh!” said Adrian, and offered his hand for another kiss.

  Zoe smiled at his male precociousness.

  The boy’s entire body soon relaxed into a curved shape that seemed to fit her arm comfortably.

  She looked down at his perfect skin and cherub mouth and saw his eyelashes gradually sink onto his cheeks where they formed a delicate fan. His breathing grew deeper and a flush coloured his cheeks.

  It took a moment more for Zoe to understand that this child had accepted her enough to fall asleep in her arms. It was her very first contact with a baby and it was mind-blowing.

  Nothing in any way approaching this had ever happened to her. She was completely unprepared for the sensations that overwhelmed her. It was as if a hidden door had opened in her mind allowing the unthinkable to become possible. She felt the warm weight of the little body and listened to the breath waft in and out of his lungs. This was a child, a new soul, a responsibility beyond all others but also a privilege she had never before been able to comprehend. Having a child with Wesley was not something to be feared. It was something to be desired; the fulfillment of their love for each other.

  She had come to this place to discover if she had the capacity to endure the disruption of children in her controlled and perfect life. Before she had time to apply her decisive brain to the question, she had been overtaken with emotions she did not know she had inside. Her mind knew this was too easy. She knew nothing could be this simple. There were mountains to climb but at this moment all that was inconsequential. Wi
thout her volition her heart had taken over. A small child had shown her the way.

  * * *

  “Goodness! I am so sorry, Zoe. We didn’t mean to leave you here alone for so long. Mother does get carried away with new ideas. Adrian has mussed up your skirt, I’m afraid. I’ll take him and you can go on the tour with my mother. Thank you for giving us the chance to do some catching up.”

  All at once the warm weight was gone and Zoe Morton felt a loss she could hardly understand.

  As Joanne disappeared with her charge, Sandra arrived, and with her the noise of children playing in the garden emerged from the open conservatory door. They went outside together, through the groups of children busy with toys and mini bikes to the charming shed covered with flowering vines where a tea party was in progress. Zoe was offered a plastic cup and saucer and found her hand unexplainably shaking as she accepted the gift. She was unable to speak, so much was rushing through her mind and body. She managed a weak smile in thanks and was glad to exit after Sandra.

  “Help! I didn’t think to give you a pair of flat shoes to wear! Those beautiful shoes will be ruined by this grass. Let’s go back inside and I’ll show you the quiet rooms upstairs and Rachel’s health department.”

  Zoe never even glanced at the mud and grass stains on her high-heeled shoes. She had found a new life interest that surpassed any satisfaction she could achieve with fancy shoes.

  The remainder of the day care tour went ahead. Sandra wondered if she was boring Zoe. There did not seem to be much response from the elegant young woman as they inspected the upper level rooms set apart for babies’ sleeping quarters, isolation beds and nursing needs. Perhaps, she thought, the damage to her shoes and that lovely outfit had annoyed her. Sandra had no way of knowing the seismic shift that had occurred in her companion. What she saw as lack of interest was, in fact, a complete internal revision of Zoe Morton’s life view. The years of self-development and business concerns had first been swept aside by her feelings for Wesley Philips, but that immense change was as nothing compared to the future she was now contemplating. She had no frame into which she could place that future but she knew it was now inevitable that it included a small person. God Willing, of course. Part of her wanted to flee back to Wesley’s side for comfort and reassurance. Part of her was still adjusting to the new Zoe and wanted more information.