Читать книгу A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle - Barbara Hannay - Страница 12

IT WAS mid-afternoon when they landed at Dirranvale, a short distance inland from Sugar Bay. After collecting Freya’s car from the airport’s overnight car park, they drove to the coast along a road that wound through tall fields of sugar cane.

Everything was exactly as Gus remembered—the gentle undulating countryside, the rich red soil, the endless sea of feathery mauve plumes on top of the waving stalks of cane. He was caught by an unexpected slug of nostalgia.

He remembered the first time he’d made this journey at the age of sixteen, slouched beside his sister in the back of his parents’ station wagon. Back then, they were both furious about their father’s transfer to the Bay, hating that he’d dragged them away from their city school and their friends.

They’d sulked and squabbled throughout the entire journey from Brisbane…until they’d crested the last rise…and the Bay had lain before them in all its singular, perfect beauty.

Remembering his first sight of the beach town that had been his home for two magical years, Gus felt a ripple of excitement. His nostrils twitched, already anticipating the briny scent of the sea and the tang of sunscreen. He could almost feel the sand, soft and warm under his feet, and the sun’s burning heat on his bare shoulders.

He could practically hear the rolling thump and rush of the surf and, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself remembering the out-of-this-world thrill of riding a board down the glassy face of a breaking wave.

He’d loved this place. Why on earth had he taken so long to come back?

He turned to Freya. ‘I bet Nick loves living here.’

‘Oh, he does. No doubt about that.’

Most of her face was hidden by sunglasses, but Gus saw the awkward pucker of her mouth and he knew she was nervous, possibly even more nervous than he was.

They hadn’t talked much on the plane, mainly because a nosy middle-aged woman who’d sat next to them had tried to join in every conversation.

He’d learned, however, that Nick was staying at Poppy’s place while Freya was away, but that Freya and the boy normally lived in a flat attached to an art gallery. They’d agreed that Gus would stay at the Sugar Bay Hotel.

‘I suppose you’ve warned Poppy to expect me?’ he asked.

‘Actually, no,’ Freya said, surprising him. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’ She chewed at her lip.

‘Is there a reason you haven’t told her? Does she still have a problem with me?’

Not quite smiling, Freya shook her head. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself. She wouldn’t have been able to keep the news to herself. She might have told Nick about you, and got him all worked up.’

It was understandable, Gus supposed, given how restless and on edge he’d felt ever since he’d learned about his son. ‘So how do you want to handle this? Will I go straight to the hotel and wait to be summoned?’

They’d come to a junction in the road and Freya concentrated on giving right of way to oncoming traffic before she turned.

When this was accomplished, she answered Gus’s question. ‘Nick’s playing football this afternoon and I thought it might be a good idea if you went to the game.’ Quickly she added, ‘It would be a more relaxed atmosphere.’

At first Gus was too surprised to speak. All day he’d been trying to imagine meeting his son, and he’d always pictured an awkward introduction indoors with Poppy and Freya hovering anxiously over the whole proceedings. A football match was the last thing he’d expected, but the idea of meeting Nick at a relaxed social event appealed.

‘That’s smart thinking,’ he told her. ‘What kind of football does Nick play?’

‘Rugby league.’

Gus swallowed against the rapid constriction in his throat. There’d been a time when he’d lived to play rugby league. He’d loved it almost as much as surfing. ‘How can Nick play league in his condition? It’s such a tough game.’

‘I know.’ Freya shrugged. ‘I thought the doctors would put a stop to it, but they said he’s fine to play while his medication’s still working.’

‘That’s amazing.’

‘Except…as I told you, the medication has a time limit.’

Gus scowled. ‘So when will you tell him who I am, and why I’m here?’

‘I don’t think we can talk about that sort of thing at the game. We should go back to my place.’

Her place.

Unreasonably, that cold feeling of exclusion encircled Gus again. Freya and Nick had a home where they’d lived as a special unit for all these years. Without him.

It was only then that he realised they were cresting the last rise—and suddenly there was the Bay lying below them, even more beautiful than he remembered.

Considerately, Freya stopped the car so he could take in the view. The small town hugged the pristine curve of pale yellow sand strung between two green headlands that reached out like arms to embrace the sparkling, rolling sea.

‘Wow.’ He hadn’t dared to hope that it might still be the sleepy seaside village he remembered. ‘It hasn’t changed.’

‘Not too much.’

‘I was worried the beach would be crawling with tourists by now, or spoiled by developers.’

‘There are a lot more houses.’ Freya waved to the crosshatching of streets and rooftops that stretched back from the beachfront. ‘And there are new blocks of units on The Esplanade.’

She pointed out a handful of tall buildings that stood, boldly out of place, near the shops overlooking the sea. ‘The local councillors have been very strict, though. They won’t allow any building taller than six floors.’

‘Good thinking.’

Disconnected memories came rushing back. Eating fish and chips on the beach straight from the paper they were wrapped in. Watching the flashes of summer lightning out to sea. Surfing the waves and feeling at one with the forces of nature, with the whole universe.

That last summer, which he’d forever thought of as Freya’s summer.

Gus felt as if a thorn had pierced his heart.

Freya started up the car again and, as they headed down the hill, he saw the house his parents had owned, perched on a clifftop overlooking the bay. Lower down, they reached the suburban streets where many of their friends had lived, and then the high school, with the new addition of an impressive brick gymnasium.

Neither Gus nor Freya spoke as they continued on two blocks beyond the school to the football field ringed by massive banyan trees.

Gus stared through the windscreen and his throat was tighter than ever as he glimpsed the grassy sports oval between the trees. He saw the white timber goalposts, the young boys in colourful jerseys, the rows of parked cars and the players’ friends and families gathered along the sidelines, or sitting on folding chairs in the shade.

For two happy years, this had been his world.

Now it was his son’s world.

The picture swam before him and he was forced to blink.

Freya turned off the engine.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

‘I’m a bit shaky.’

Gus nodded. Shaky was exactly how he felt. This was such a big moment. Huge. Almost as momentous and huge as getting married, or witnessing a birth. Twelve years too late, he was about to become a father.

A roar erupted from the crowd as they got out of the car and Freya sent a quick glance over her shoulder to the field.

‘Looks like the other team has scored a try.’ She pouted her lower lip in mock despair.

‘Who’s the opposition?’

‘Dirranvale. They usually beat us.’

‘Nothing’s changed, then.’ Gus sent her a quick grin, and he was rewarded by an answering grin.

Wow.

Wow. Wow. Wow. Even when Freya’s face was half hidden by sunglasses, the grin transformed her. She was the laughing beach girl of his past, and his heart leapt and rolled like a breaking wave.

Impulsively, he reached an arm around her shoulders, moved by an overpowering urge to plant a deep, appreciative kiss on her smiling mouth.

Just in time, he remembered that she’d chosen to keep him out of her life, out of his son’s life, and he stamped down on the impulse.

Just as well. Freya wouldn’t have welcomed it. Even his casual hug troubled her. Her lips trembled, her smile disintegrated and she moved away, leaving his arm dangling in mid-air.

Fool. Gus shoved his hands in his pockets. He was here to meet Nick, to save Nick. Flirting with the boy’s mother was not an option. Neither of them wanted to rake up out-of-date emotions and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t put a foot wrong during this visit.

Hurrying ahead of him, Freya had already reached the sideline and some of the bystanders turned, smiled and waved to her or called hello. As Gus joined her, they eyed him with marked curiosity, but he paid them scant attention. His interest was immediately fixed on the team of boys in the blue and gold Sugar Bay jerseys.

His son was one of those boys.

Right now, they were standing in a disconsolate row, watching as the opposition’s goal kicker booted the ball over the bar and between the posts. The whistle blew, the Dirranvale team’s score jumped another two points, then both teams regrouped, ready to resume the game.

Fine hairs lifted on the back of Gus’s neck. ‘Where’s Nick?’ he murmured to Freya. ‘Is he on the field?’

She nodded. ‘I bet you’ll recognise him.’

Gus felt a spurt of panic. Was he supposed to instantly know which boy was his? Was this some kind of test?

Freya’s sunglasses hid the direction of her gaze and his heart thumped as he scanned the field. There were thirteen boys out there in the Sugar Bay jerseys. He had no idea if Nick was dark or fair, tall or thickset, if he took after the Wilder family or the Joneses.

Should he be looking for a kid who was frailer than the rest? Or was his son the chubby kid, red-faced and panting and avoiding the ball?

The Sugar Bay team had possession of the ball and parents yelled instructions from the sidelines. The boys were running down the field, throwing passes, trying to make ground and dodge being tackled. As far as Gus could see, they were all happy and healthy and bursting with energy. It was hard to believe that any one of them could be seriously ill.

The boy in the number seven jersey suddenly broke ahead of the pack. He had a shock of black hair and dark grey eyes, and there was something about his face. Gus felt a jolt, a lightning bolt of connection. Recognition?

‘I don’t suppose that could be him, could it?’ His voice was choked. ‘Number seven?’

‘Yes, that’s Nick!’ Freya’s cry was close to a sob and she stood beside him with her arms tightly crossed, hugging her middle.

Nick. His kid. Nicholas Angus. Gus felt a rush of adrenaline as he watched the boy and he tried to pinpoint why he was so familiar. Apart from colouring, they weren’t really alike.

But there was something.

Gus’s eyes were riveted on Nick’s dashing dark-haired figure as he cleverly sidestepped an attempted tackle, then passed the ball.

He was good. Hey, Nick was really good. He moved forward again, ready for another chance to take possession, and Gus couldn’t suppress a fierce glow of pride.

The kid was fast. He was a halfback, a key position in any team, requiring speed and ball-playing skills and a quick mind rather than brute strength.

Chest bursting, Gus watched as Nick took the ball once more and passed it on neatly and deftly, a split second before he was tackled to the ground.

Gus elbowed Freya’s arm. ‘You didn’t tell me he was terrific.’

Her mouth pulled out of shape, halfway between a happy grin and heartbreak.

And suddenly Gus felt as if he’d swallowed the damn football. He looked away, staring into the canopy of one of the ancient trees as he willed his emotions into some kind of order. Once the game was over, he would meet Nick and he’d have to play it cool.

But it was such a massive thing to know that this wonderful kid was his child. He was flooded by a rush of emotion—of responsibility, of happiness and pride—and all of it tangled with fear and the weight of loss for all the years he’d been deprived of this pleasure.

If I’d seen him in the street I would have walked straight past and totally ignored him.

Knowing made such a difference.

But there was so much more he wanted to know. How could he and Nick possibly bridge all their missing years?

Freya thought she might burst with the tension.

She’d hoped that viewing the game from the sidelines would be an easier induction for Gus, giving him the chance to take a good long look at Nick before he had to cope with introductions. But she wasn’t finding it easy at all. With each minute that passed, she was more on edge.

She’d watched Nick play football many times, but she usually chatted with other mums and paid only fleeting attention to what was happening on the field. Today, she couldn’t drag her eyes from her boy, kept trying to see him though Gus’s eyes.

She knew she was hopelessly biased, but Nick was gorgeous, with his lovely dark hair and beautiful, soulful, intelligent grey eyes. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Gus to be seeing his son for the first time.

She remembered her own introduction to Nick. All those years ago.

With Poppy at her side as her birthing coach, there’d been gentle music playing in the background and the scents of lavender aromatherapy candles. Poppy had helped Freya to breathe through her contractions and, although the whole process was hard work, Nick’s arrival had been a calm and beautiful experience.

And he was perfect. Eight and a half pounds, with lovely dark hair, sturdy limbs and great energetic lungs.

It was only later, after Poppy and the midwife left Freya alone to rest, that she’d allowed herself to cry.

She’d cried for Gus.

And she’d cried oceans. She’d missed him so terribly, and she’d longed for him to see their baby. She’d cried and cried so hard and for so long that the nurse had called the doctor, who’d come hurrying back, and he’d been worried and wanted to prescribe a sedative.

Freya had been breastfeeding and she was sure a sedative couldn’t be good for her baby, so she’d rallied. From her first days as a mother, she’d always put Nick’s needs first.

But, because she’d managed just fine without ever meeting her dad, she’d convinced herself that her son could manage without a father. She’d told herself that she would unite the boy and his dad once Nick was old enough to understand…but by then Gus had been in the depths of Africa.

Freya was so wrapped in her worries she hadn’t even realised that the game was over until she saw the boys on the field shaking hands and reaching for water bottles. It was obvious from their body language that the Sugar Bay team had lost.

She glanced quickly at Gus. His body language spoke volumes too. He was so tense he was practically standing to attention.

Out on the field, Nick’s coach, Mel Crane, was giving the boy a pat on the back. Nick turned and saw Freya and he grinned and waved, called to his team-mates, then began to jog across the field towards her.

Nick was halfway to them before he saw Gus and his pace slowed. By contrast, Freya’s heart began to canter. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down, and she stifled a longing to reach for Gus’s hand. How crazy would that be? Gus was here to help Nick, and for no other reason.

She mustn’t give the impression that she needed him too. And she certainly mustn’t send Nick mixed messages about her relationship with his father. There must be no confusion.

Beside her, Gus dipped his head and spoke close to her ear. ‘I’ll take my cues from you.’

She nodded and pinned on a smile. Always assuming I know how to handle this. Problem was, etiquette advice didn’t cover this kind of introduction.

Nick didn’t run into Freya’s arms as he might have done a few years ago, but he let her kiss him. He smelled hot and dusty and sweaty and she relished the smell—the scent of a normal, healthy eleven-year-old footballer.

‘You were fantastic,’ she told him, as she told him after every game. ‘And you’ll beat them next time, for sure.’

Nick accepted this with a smiling shrug. Then he shot a curious glance at Gus.

Freya jumped in quickly. ‘Nick, this is Gus Wilder. He’s come back from Darwin with me.’

Nick’s dark eyes widened and a mixture of tension and curiosity crept into his face. ‘Hi,’ he said.

‘How do you do, Nick?’ Gus’s deep voice held exactly the right note of friendly warmth. He held out his hand and Freya’s heart tumbled as her son and his father exchanged a manly handshake.

‘You made some great plays out there,’ Gus said.

‘Thanks.’ Nick grinned, clearly warmed by the praise. He looked at Freya, his eyes flashing questions. Dropping his voice, he asked, ‘Is Mr Wilder—’

‘You can call him Gus, Nick. He’s a friend.’ Conscious of the people milling around them, Freya chose her words carefully. ‘He’s hoping to be a good match for you.’

‘Really?’ Nick’s grin widened and this time when he looked at Gus, his eyes absolutely glowed. ‘Wow!’

Gus’s eyes glowed too as he cracked a shaky smile.

‘So how did you find—’

‘Hey, Gus, is that you?’ a voice called from behind them. ‘Gus Wilder?’

Mel Crane, the football coach, was an old classmate from Sugar Bay High and he grinned madly and slapped a beefy hand on Gus’s shoulder. ‘Thought it was you. Good to see you, mate.’

‘Mel, how are you?’

‘Not bad. Not bad. What brings you back to the Bay? Are you here for long?’

Gus’s smile was guarded. ‘Just a short trip.’

Mel Crane’s pale blue eyes flickered with keen interest, and Freya’s anxiety levels began to climb. As Nick’s coach, Mel was one of the few people in the Bay who knew about the boy’s condition. He also knew that Freya and Gus had once been an item.

It wouldn’t be long before he put two and two together.

‘Young Nick played a terrific game today.’ Mel ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘But you know, Nick, Gus here was a great footballer.’ He gave Gus another hearty thump on the shoulder. ‘Lucky for me, he was also good at maths. He used to let me copy his homework.’

Nick laughed and Freya could see that his admiration for Gus was rapidly escalating to hero worship.

‘How do you know my mum and my coach?’ Nick asked Gus. ‘Did you used to live here?’

‘Ages ago,’ Gus said, carefully avoiding Freya’s eyes. ‘But I only lived here for a couple of years. Last two years of high school.’

Stepping in quickly before too many memories were laid bare, Freya said, ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to whisk Gus away now, Mel. We want to catch a few of the sights before it gets dark.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Mel said. ‘If you’ve got a spare moment while you’re here, Gus, drop in to the garage.’

‘Still the same place down on The Esplanade?’

‘Yep. My brother Jim and I have taken over from the old man.’

Gus shook Mel’s hand. ‘I’m staying at the hotel. I’ll call in.’

‘Lovely,’ said Freya quickly. ‘I think we’d better get going now.’ Keen to avoid being held up by anyone else, she shepherded Nick and Gus ahead of her to the car.

The worst wasn’t over yet.

For Gus, it felt surreal to be sitting in the car beside Freya, with their son in the rear, unaware that his life was about to change for ever.

‘So what sights do you want to see, Gus?’ Nick asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Gus shot Freya a questioning glance.

‘I think we should go straight home,’ she said.

‘But you told Mr Crane—’

‘I know what I told Mr Crane, Nick, but I needed an excuse to get away. I want to take Gus back to our place. There’s a lot to talk about.’

‘About the kidney?’

‘Yes.’

Nick flopped back in his seat and stopped asking questions. In the stretch of silence, Gus stole a glance back over his shoulder and found the boy watching him, his eyes huge and wondering. Gus sent him a smiling wink. Nick smiled shyly, and Gus felt his heart turn over.

Freya turned the car onto The Esplanade, where late afternoon shadows stretched across the beach. Sunbathers were packing up but a handful of hardy board riders were still catching waves. He watched them. He’d been like them once, not wanting to leave the water till it was almost dark, much to his mother’s consternation.

To his surprise, he saw that Freya was turning into a driveway. ‘Do you live here? Right on the beachfront?’

‘Where else?’ A quick smile flitted across her features, but it disappeared in a hurry and Gus knew she was nervous again.

The driveway ran next to a modern building of timber and glass. He caught sight of a sign in the front garden, with The Driftwood Gallery painted in pale tan on a cream background.

‘Hey, Urchin!’ A doggy blur and a wagging tail greeted Nick as they got out of the car. After giving the dog a rough and enthusiastic hug, the boy called to his mother, ‘I’m starving.’

‘Nothing new there,’ Freya responded with an elaborate roll of her eyes.

Gus retrieved their overnight bags from the boot while Freya opened bi-fold doors, and he followed her into an open-plan living area.

‘Hey, this is beautiful,’ he said, looking around him.

‘Not bad, is it?’ She dumped her purse and keys on a granite topped counter. ‘I manage the gallery, and this flat is part of the deal. Please, take a seat and I’ll make some coffee. Is plunger coffee OK?’

‘Yes, perfect, thanks.’

Gus remained standing, taking in details of the off-white walls, gleaming pale timber floors and large picture windows looking out to the sea.

The place felt perfect for Freya. It was so much like her—close to the beach and decorated simply but beautifully in neutral tones with soft touches of peach or sea-green. The colours were repeated in the watercolours that hung on the walls and there was a wistful elegance about the paintings that made him wonder if they were hers.

Nick was at the fridge and helping himself to a brightly coloured sports drink. ‘What can I have to eat?’

‘The usual,’ Freya told him. Already, she’d filled a kettle and switched it on and was retrieving the makings of a sandwich. She shot Gus a quick apologetic smile. ‘Excuse us for a moment, please.’

‘Of course. You have to feed the hungry beast.’

Nick grinned at him and came to the counter beside his mother, took slices of cheese from a packet and added them to the bread she’d buttered.

‘I hope you’ve washed your hands.’

‘Washed them at the sink just now.’

‘Would you like tomato with this?’

Nick shook his head. ‘Cheese is fine.’ He added an extra slice, then fetched a plate for his sandwich.

They looked so at home, Gus thought. This routine was so familiar to them, and his outsider status washed over him like a physical pain.

As if sensing how he felt, Freya said, ‘What about you, Gus? Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich?’

He smiled. ‘No, thanks. Coffee’s fine.’

Leaning against the counter, plate in hand, Nick munched on his snack. He was still wearing his football gear and Gus saw green smears where he’d landed heavily on the grass, and there was a graze on his knee.

How the hell can this kid be sick? Gus thought. He looks so normal.

It seemed so wrong. So cruel.

‘So has Mum told you all about my global warning?’ the boy asked suddenly, smiling between mouthfuls.

Gus’s stomach took a dive. ‘Yes, it’s rotten luck, but I’m hoping we can turn that around.’

Freya, in the middle of retrieving coffee mugs from an overhead cupboard, appeared to freeze.

‘Awesome,’ said Nick. ‘So do you have O blood, the same as me?’

‘I do.’

‘But Gus still has to have more tests before we can be absolutely sure he’s a perfect match,’ Freya countered.

Nick nodded and looked thoughtful as he chewed again on his sandwich, while the kitchen filled with the smell of coffee.

Across the silence, Gus met Freya’s gaze. She sent him a wobbly smile.

‘If you could help to carry these things, we can make ourselves comfortable,’ she said.

‘Sure.’ Immediately he snapped into action, and they carried the pot and mugs, a milk jug and a plate of pecan cookies to a low coffee table set amidst comfortably grouped squishy armchairs upholstered in cream linen.

‘You want me to hang around?’ Nick asked.

Freya’s throat rippled as she swallowed. ‘Yes, honey, of course. We need to talk to you.’

He came and perched on the arm of one of the chairs, sports drink in one hand, plate with the remains of his sandwich in the other, and he frowned as he watched his mother pour coffee. ‘So did you guys know each other before? When Gus used to live here?’

‘Yes.’ Freya’s voice was a shade too tight.

Nick stared at her and his face sobered. He slid a quick look to Gus, then another glance back to his mother. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything really crazy, are you? Like Gus is my father or something?’