Free The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell by Caroline Anderson / Janice Lynn Page B

looked up the table to his mother, ignoring the hastily scribbled notes in his pocket and deciding to wing it. This was his mother, after all. If he couldn’t tell her what he thought of her without notes, it was a pretty poor thing.
    ‘You had no idea what you started thirty-four years ago, did you, Mum?’ he teased. ‘Well, let me tell you. You made me curious. You made me want to know the answers, to persevere until I got them, to change the way it was if I didn’t like what I learned, and to live with what I couldn’t change. You taught me never to give up, never to give in, never to walk away from anything except a fight. You taught me the difference between right and wrong, the difference between pride and arrogance. You taught me to walk, to ride, to swim, to laugh at myself and not others, to read all sorts of fascinating and amazing things—and to love. You taught me not only to work, but also to play, the value of family, the importance of caring.
    ‘You’re a remarkable woman, and you’ve made me what I am; I owe it all to you, so thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart.’
    He sat down again, a lump in his throat, and felt Libby’s hand squeeze his under the table before she turned towards Will. He was on his feet, and as they all waited for him to speak, the applause died away until the silence in the room was deafening.
    Libby swallowed and bit her lip, her hand still in Andrew’s, her eyes fixed on his brother. For the first time, Will wasn’t smiling, and she felt her heart miss a beat.
    ‘Well, what can I say?’ he began eventually. ‘I do public speaking all the time as part of my fundraising work, but this isn’t public, this is my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, who taught me all the things she taught Andrew—and, technically, she’s entitled to her pension now, but there’s no way I’m going to let her retire from the fray without a fight,’ he said, smiling briefly at the ripple of laughter through the room. But then his smile faded and he carried on.
    ‘She had no idea when she had us, as Andrew said, what she was letting herself in for. I’m sure we were vile to bring up. Two healthy young boys, hell bent on living as fast and as hard as possible, but then it all got a little more serious, and without Ma’s quick thinking I know I wouldn’t be here today, so I cannot— cannot —underestimate what she means to me, and to the charities for which she works so tirelessly.
    ‘It’s because of her,’ he concluded, ‘that I’m able to stand here in front of you today on my own two feet, to thank her, and to ask you to join with me in raising a glass to her and wishing her a very happy birthday. Happy birthday, Ma. And thank you.’
    Everyone got to their feet, the applause thunderous as Will turned to his mother and hugged her hard, then sat down, his eyes over-bright.
    She glanced up at Andrew and realised he wasn’t doing much better as he turned to her and held the chair for her to sit down again.
    ‘You OK?’ she murmured, and he smiled wryly and nodded.
    ‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just—he never talks about it like that. Not so openly, not to her. And it’s—’
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention, please?’
    Sally was on her feet now, standing beside Will with an envelope in her hand, and she looked round at everyone, then continued as silence fell, ‘Her sons don’t know this, but Lady Ashenden asked not to receive any presents for her birthday. As she put it, “What on earth could a woman of my age possibly need that I haven’t already got?” And so, at her suggestion, anyone who felt that they would like to commemorate her birthday in this way was invited to make a donation to the charities they support for meningitis research and meningococcal disease, and I have to say you’ve been amazingly generous, because the total at the moment, not counting several last-minute donations, stands at twenty-seven thousand, six