Читать книгу The Bridesmaid's Baby - Barbara Hannay - Страница 8

THE impact of the explosion sent Will flying, tossed him like a child’s rag toy and dumped him hard. He woke with his heart thudding, his nerves screaming as he gripped at the bed sheets.

Bed sheets?

At first he couldn’t think how he’d arrived back in the bedroom of his schooldays, but then he slowly made sense of his surroundings.

He was no longer in Mongolia.

He was safe.

He wished it had all been a nightmare, but it was unfortunately true. He’d been conducting a prospecting inspection of an old abandoned mine when it had blown without warning. By some kind of miracle he’d escaped serious injury, but his two good friends were dead.

That was the savage reality. He’d been to the funerals of both Barney and Keith—one in Brisbane and the other in Ottawa.

He’d been to hell and back sitting in those separate chapels, listening to heartbreaking eulogies and wondering why he’d been spared when his friends had so not deserved to die.

And yet here he was, home at Tambaroora…

Where nothing had changed…

Squinting in the shuttered moonlight, Will could see the bookshelf that still held his old school textbooks. His swimming trophies lined the shelf above the bed, and he knew without looking that the first geological specimens he’d collected were in a small glass case on the desk beneath the window.

Even the photo of him with his brother, Josh, was still there on the dresser. It showed Will squashed onto a pathetic little tricycle that he was clearly too big for, while Josh looked tall and grown-up on his first two-wheeler bike.

Will rolled over so he couldn’t see the image. He didn’t want to be reminded that his brother had beaten him to just about everything that was important in his life. It hadn’t been enough for Josh Carruthers to monopolise their father’s affection, he’d laid first claim on Tambaroora and he’d won the heart of Will’s best friend.

That might have been OK if Josh had taken good care of Lucy.

An involuntary sigh whispered from Will’s lips.

Lucy.

Seeing her again tonight had unsettled him on all kinds of levels.

When he closed his eyes he could see the silvery-white gleam of moonlight on her hair as they’d stood outside the church. He could hear the familiar soft lilt in her voice.

Damn it. He’d wanted to tell her about the accident. He needed to talk about it.

He hadn’t told his family because he knew it would upset his mother. Jessie Carruthers had already lost one son and she didn’t need the news of her surviving son’s brush with death.

Will could have talked to Jake, of course. They’d worked together in Mongolia and Jake would have understood how upset he was, but he hadn’t wanted to throw a wet blanket on the eve of his mate’s wedding.

No, Lucy was the one person he would have liked to talk to. In the past, they’d often talked long into the night. As students they’d loved deep and meaningful discussions.

Yes, he could have told Lucy what he’d learned at those funerals.

But it was probably foolish to think he could resurrect the closeness they’d enjoyed as students.

After all this time, they’d both changed.

Hell, was it really eight years? He could still feel the shock of that December day when he’d been skiing in Norway and he’d received the news that Lucy and his brother were engaged to be married. He’d jumped on the first plane home.

With a groan, Will flung aside the sheet and swung out of bed, desperate to throw off the memories and the sickening guilt and anger that always accompanied his thoughts of that terrible summer.

But, with the benefit of hindsight, Will knew he’d been unreasonably angry with Josh for moving in on his best friend while his back was turned. He’d had no claim on Lucy. She’d never been his girlfriend. He’d gone overseas with Cara Howard and, although their relationship hadn’t lasted, he’d allowed himself to be distracted by new sights, new people, new adventures.

He’d let life take him by the hand, happy to go with the flow, finding it easier than settling down.

The news that Josh was going to marry Lucy shouldn’t have upset him, but perhaps he might have coped more easily if Lucy had chosen to marry a stranger. As it was, he’d never been able to shake off the feeling that Josh had moved in on her just to prove to his little brother that he could have whatever he desired.

Unfortunately, Will had chosen the very worst time to have it out with Josh.

He would never, to the end of his days, forget the early morning argument at the airfield, or Josh’s stubbornness, or the sight of that tiny plane tumbling out of the sky like an autumn leaf.

If only that had been the worst of it, but it was Gina who’d told him that the shock of Josh’s death had caused Lucy to have a miscarriage.

A miscarriage?

Will had been plagued by endless questions—questions he’d had no right to ask. Which had come first—the engagement or the pregnancy? Had Josh truly loved Lucy?

A week after the funeral he’d tried to speak to her, but Dr McKenty had been fiercely protective of his daughter and he’d turned Will away.

So the only certainties that he’d been left with were Josh’s death and Lucy’s loss, and he’d found it pitifully easy to take the blame for both.

To make amends, he’d actually tried to stay on at Tambaroora after Josh’s death. But he couldn’t replace Josh in his father’s eyes and he’d soon known that he didn’t fit in any more. He was a piece from a flashy foreign jigsaw trying to fit into a homemade puzzle.

For Will, it had made sense to leave again and to stay away longer. In time, he’d trained himself to stop dwelling on the worst of it. But of course he couldn’t stay away from his home and family for ever and there were always going to be times, like now, when everything came back to haunt him.

Lucy dreamed about Will.

In her dream they were back at Sydney University and they’d met in the refectory for coffee and to compare notes after a chemistry practical.

It was an incredibly simple but companionable scene. She and Will had always enjoyed hanging out together, and in her dream they were sitting at one of the little tables overlooking the courtyard, chatting and smiling and discussing the results of their latest experiments.

When it was time to leave for separate lectures, Lucy announced calmly, as if it was a normal extension of their everyday conversation, ‘Oh, by the way, Will, I’m pregnant.’

Will’s face broke into a beautiful smile and he drew her into his arms and hugged her, and Lucy knew that her pregnancy was the perfect and natural expression of their love.

She felt the special protection of his arms about her and she was filled with a sense of perfect happiness, of well-being, of everything being right in her world.

When she woke, she lay very still with her eyes closed, lingering for as long as she could in the happy afterglow of the dream, clinging to the impossible fantasy that she was pregnant.

Better than that, she was pregnant with Will’s baby. Not his brother’s…

The dream began to fade and she could no longer ignore the fact that morning sunlight was pulsing on the other side of her closed eyelids.

Reality reared its unwelcome head.

Damn.

Not that dream again. How stupid.

Actually, it was more like a recurring nightmare, so far divorced from Lucy’s real life that she always felt sick when she woke. She hated to think that her subconscious could still, after all this time, play such cruel tricks on her.

In truth, she’d never been brave enough to let her friendship with Will progress into anything deeper. At university, she’d seen all the other girls who’d fallen for him. She’d watched Will date them for a while and then move on, and she’d decided it was safer to simply be his buddy. His friend.

As his girlfriend she’d risk losing him and she couldn’t have coped with that. If they remained good friends, she could keep him for ever.

Or so she’d thought.

The plan had serious flaws, of course, which was no doubt why she was still plagued far too often by the dream.

But now, as Lucy opened her eyes, she knew it was time to wake up to more important realities. This wasn’t just any morning. It was Mattie’s wedding day.

This was a day for hair appointments and manicures, helping Mattie to dress and smiling for photographs. This was to be her friend’s perfect day.

Get over it, Lucy.

Get over yourself.

Stifling a lingering twinge of longing for the dream, she threw off the bedclothes, went to the window and looked out. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and filled with sunshine. She smiled.

No more useless longings. No more doleful thoughts.

Surely clear blue skies were a very promising omen?

In Willowbank everyone was abuzz.

With the help of friends and relatives from around the district, Mattie’s mum had grown masses of white petunias in pots and tubs and even in wheelbarrows.

Lucy happily helped a team of women to unload containers of flowers from their cars and place them strategically in the church and the grounds, as well as the marquee where the reception was to be held in an allotment next to the church hall. The instant floral effect was spectacular.

After that, the morning passed in a happy whirl, much to Lucy’s relief. First, she met up with Mattie and Gina at the hairdresser’s, then they popped into the salon next door for matching manicures, and finally they dashed back to Mattie’s for a delicious light lunch prepared by one of her doting aunts.

During lunch the phone seemed never to stop ringing and all kinds of messages flew back and forth. Gina’s mum, who was babysitting the twins, reported that they’d been fed and burped and were sleeping beautifully. Nurses from the Sydney hospital where the babies had been born rang to wish Mattie and Jake all the best for married life. The caterer had a question about the positioning of the wedding cake on the main table.

Lucy had to admire the way Mattie seemed to float through it all. She was the most serene bride ever. Nothing bothered her or was too much trouble. Mattie had always been sweet and easygoing, but she’d never been as blissfully relaxed and happy and confident as she was today.

It must be love, Lucy thought, and she wished it was contagious.

Shortly after lunch, the excitement really began. Refrigerated boxes arrived from the florist, filled with truly gorgeous bouquets. Then it was time for the girls to put on their make-up, laughing as they took turns in front of Mattie’s bedroom mirror, the same mirror where years ago they had first experimented with mascara and eyeliner while they’d gossiped about boys.

Back then, Lucy, being older and from the city, had been considered to be wiser and worldlier. The other girls had looked up to her with undisguised respect and considerable awe.

How the tables had turned. Now Gina was married and a mother, and Mattie was about to marry Jake, while Lucy was…

No! She wasn’t going to tolerate a single negative thought today.

When they’d achieved their best with makeup, Gina and Lucy slipped into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which were simply divine. The palest pink duchess satin looked equally pretty on Gina with her dark hair and olive complexion as it did on Lucy, who was blonde and fair-skinned.

Then it was time to fuss over Mattie, to fasten the dozens of tiny satin-covered buttons down her back, to help to secure her veil and then to gasp in sheer astonishment when they saw the completed picture of their best friend in her wedding gown.

‘You look absolutely breathtaking,’ Lucy whispered.

Gina was emotional. ‘You’re so beautiful Jake’s going to cry when he sees you.’

‘Please don’t say that.’ Mattie laughed nervously. ‘You’ll make me cry.’

‘And me,’ moaned Lucy.

Already, at the mere thought of an emotional bridegroom, she could feel mascara-threatening tears about to spill.

Oh, help. Weddings were such poignant affairs. And today Will was going to be there, looking dashing as the best man. How on earth was she going to get through the next few hours?

Dressed in matching dark formal suits with silver ties and orange blossoms in their lapels, Jake, Will and Tom were ushered into the minuscule vestry and instructed to wait till it was time to take their places at the front of the church.

Will anxiously patted a pocket in his suit jacket. ‘The rings are still safe.’

Jake grinned and laid a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘That’s the third time you’ve checked the rings in the past five minutes. Relax, man, they’re not going to grow legs and run away.’

‘Jake’s the guy who’s supposed to be nervous,’ added Tom with a grin.

Will nodded and tried to smile. ‘Sorry. Don’t know what’s got into me.’ He shot Jake a questioning glance. ‘Aren’t you even a little nervous?’

‘Why should I be nervous?’

‘You’re getting married.’ Will wished his voice wasn’t so hoarse. His sleepless night was really getting to him. ‘It’s par for the course for a bridegroom to have the jitters,’ he said.

‘But I’m marrying Mattie,’ Jake responded simply, as if that explained everything. And his glowing smile made it patently clear that he knew, without doubt, he was the luckiest man alive.

Will wished he felt a fraction of his mate’s happiness.

‘So where are you heading for your honeymoon?’ he asked. ‘Or is that a state secret?’

Jake grinned. ‘The exact location is a surprise for Mattie, but I’ll tell you two.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m taking her to Italy. She’s never been overseas, so we’re going to Venice, Lake Como and the Amalfi Coast.’

‘Wow!’ Tom’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s so over the top it’s fabulous. You’ll have an amazing time.’

Jake nodded happily but, before he could say anything else, the minister appeared at the vestry door and sent them a smiling wink. ‘Could you come this way now please, gentlemen?’

A chill ran down Will’s spine. For crying out loud, what was the matter with him today? Anyone would think he was the one getting married, or that they were criminals being led to the dock.

‘All the best, mate,’ he whispered gruffly to Jake.

‘Thanks.’

The two friends shook hands, then headed through the little doorway that led into the church, where an incredible transformation had occurred.

Not only was the place packed to the rafters with people dressed in their best finery, but there were flowers and white ribbons everywhere—dangling from the ends of pews, wound around columns, adorning windowsills and filling vases, large and small.

And there was organ music, billowing and rippling like the background music in a sentimental movie. Will tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Why was it that weddings were designed to zero straight in on unsuspecting emotions?

He glanced at Jake and saw his Adam’s apple jerk.

‘You OK?’ he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

‘I’ll be fine once Mattie gets here.’

‘She won’t be late,’ Will reassured him and again he nervously patted the rings in his pocket.

There was a flurry in the little porch at the back of the church and, as if everyone had been choreographed, the congregation turned. Will felt fine hairs lift on the back of his neck. His stomach tightened.

The girls appeared in a misty mirage of white and pink. Will blinked. Lucy, Gina and Mattie looked incredibly out-of-this-world beautiful in long feminine dresses and glamorous hairstyles, and with their arms filled with flowers.

He heard Jake catch his breath, felt goose-bumps lift on his arms.

The organist struck a dramatic chord.

Lucy and Gina, apparently satisfied with their arrangement of Mattie’s dress and veil, took their places in front of her, Lucy first.

Will couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t trembling.

Lucy stood, shoulders back, looking straight ahead, with her blonde head high, her blue eyes smiling. To Will she looked vulnerable and yet resolute and his heart began to thunder loudly.

It was so weird.

He’d seen countless weddings and endless processions of bridesmaids, but none of them had made him feel the way he felt now as the organist began to play and Lucy began to walk down the aisle with her smile carefully in place.

She’d always tried to pretend she was a tomboy, keeping her hair short and wispy and preferring to live in T-shirts and jeans, but today nothing could hide her femininity.

Her pastel off-the-shoulders dress and the soft pink lilies in her arms highlighted the paleness of her hair, the honey-gold tints in her skin, the pink lushness of her lips. She had never looked lovelier.

Except perhaps…that one night on a shadowy veranda, when she’d turned to him with tears in her eyes…

He willed her to look at him. Just one glance would do. For old friendship’s sake. He wanted eye contact, needed to send her one smile, longed for one tiny link with her.

Come on, look this way, Lucy.

She smiled at the people in the congregation, at her particular friends, at Jake, but her gaze didn’t flicker any further to the right. It was clear she did not want to see Will.

Or, perhaps, she simply felt no need.