Читать книгу The Package Deal: Nine Months to Change His Life / From Neighbours...to Newlyweds? / The Bonus Mum - Jennifer Greene, Brenda Harlen - Страница 14

CHAPTER NINE

HE HAD A diary packed with meetings.

He sat on the grass and ate sandwiches and drank soda with the mother of his child.

It seemed she’d done what she’d come to do. As far as Mary was concerned, the baby conversation was over. She chatted about the devastation caused by Cyclone Lila, about the rebuilding efforts, about Barbara and Henry’s dejection at the possibility of selling a cyclone-ravaged island.

‘Maybe I can buy it,’ Ben found himself saying.

‘Why on earth would you?’ She’d hardly touched her sandwich, he noted. When she thought he wasn’t watching she broke bits off and stuffed them into her bag.

Just how bad was the morning sickness?

‘Because I can?’

‘Just how rich are you?’

‘Too rich for my own good,’ he said, and grinned. ‘It’s a problem.’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘He died ten years ago. Heart attack. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.’

‘You really hated him.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I did. He was a total controller. Jake and I were supposed to go straight into the business. The power he wielded... We went into the army to get away from it. There was another dumb decision. It was only when he died that I took the first forays into commerce and found I loved it.’

‘It doesn’t mean you’re like him.’

‘No.’ His voice told her not to go there, and she respected it. She abandoned her sandwich, lay back on the grass and looked up through the trees.

‘It’s the same here as in New Zealand,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘Trees. Grass. Sky. Nice.’

‘You’d never want to live here.’

‘No.’

He looked down at her. She’d come all the way from New Zealand to tell him something that could have been said over the phone. He’d reacted just about as badly as it was possible to react. She was in a strange country, she was jet-lagged and she was morning sick.

She looked happy?

‘What?’ she said, seeing his confusion.

‘You could be a bit angry.’

‘What’s to be angry about?’

‘If you had a half-decent dad he’d be here with a shotgun. I’d be being marched down the aisle and we’d be living happily ever after.’

‘I don’t see shotgun weddings leading to happy ever after.’

‘But you’re happy without it.’

‘I’ll have a job I love, my roller-derby team, a baby I think I’ll adore to bits, enough money to exist on and trees, grass, sky. Oh, and Heinz. What more could a woman want?’

She was so...brave. He had so many emotions running through his head he didn’t know how to handle them, but he looked down at her and he thought, involved or not, he wanted to help. Despite her protestations, he knew how hard the life she’d chosen would be, and the thought of this woman facing it alone was doing his head in.

‘Mary, you won’t have just enough money to exist,’ he growled. ‘You’re having my child. I’ll buy you a decent house; set you up with everything you need. You needn’t go back to work.’

She thought about that for a bit.

He wanted to lie beside her. He was wearing an Armani suit. The grass...

‘The grass is comfy,’ she said.

And he thought, What the hell, and lay beside her.

She was gazing up through the treetops. The sky was amazingly blue. The tree was vast. He felt...small.

His body was touching hers. She was so close. He wanted...

‘Just enough for the baby,’ she said.

And he thought, What? What had they been talking about?

‘The money,’ she said, as if she’d heard his unspoken question. ‘I don’t want anything for me, but it’d be nice to think if he or she wants to go to university the choice won’t be dictated by my finances. You’re the dad. Our kid’ll be smart.’

She said it like she was pleased. Like she’d made a good decision to choose him to father his child.

He sat up again. ‘Mary...’

And once again she got what he was thinking. ‘I did not plan this,’ she said evenly.

‘How do I know?’

‘What, lie on an island and wait for a stud to be washed up? Hope to be pregnant? Why?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You also have no idea how this pregnancy will affect my family,’ she said, in that soft, even voice that he was growing to trust. ‘They’ll hate me. They’ve been forced to back down in their accusations. Now I’ll turn up pregnant when my sister’s just lost her baby. They’ll tell me I’m rubbing their faces in it. It’ll hurt. This isn’t all roses, Ben.’

‘But did you want it?’

‘No,’ she said, and she said it in such a way that he believed her. ‘To be honest, I’ve avoided relationships. My father’s...desertion gutted me, and I’ve always thought if I can’t trust my dad, who can I trust? Like you, my family background doesn’t leave me aching to copy it. But now...maybe you’re right in one sense. Even though I didn’t set you up, I’m welcoming this baby. Somehow the night of the storm changed things for me. I do want it.’

‘Despite you not being in a position to afford it.’

‘I can afford it. I didn’t come here for money. Set up a trust or something for the baby if you want, but I want nothing.’

Nothing.

He thought of all he had here. A financial empire. An apartment overlooking Central Park. Any material thing he could possibly desire.

What would happen if he lost everything?

He’d have trees, grass, sky. Right now they felt okay.

It might get draughty in winter, he conceded, and he looked at Mary and he thought she’d just build a willow cabin or find a cave. She was a survivor and she didn’t complain. She’d care for this baby.

And suddenly he felt...jealous? That was weird, he conceded, but there it was. He was jealous of an unborn child—because it’d have a mother like Mary.

‘How’s the book going?’ he asked, feeling disoriented, trying to get things back on track, though he wasn’t sure where the track was.

He saw her flinch.

‘You don’t have to tell me.’

She thought about it. ‘That’s okay,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe I have to open up a bit there, too. It’s always been my private escape, my writing. If I’m to have this baby then I need to share.’

‘So...share?’ The request felt huge, he thought. It was only about a book, he reminded himself. Nothing else. ‘Is it proceeding?’ he asked.

‘It is.’ He could see her make a conscious effort to relax. ‘In your fictional life you’ve been drinking weird, smoky cocktails with three slutty sisters, squeezing them for information, and all of a sudden they’ve transformed themselves into dragons. Very gruesome it is, and rather hot, but you’re handling yourself nicely.’

‘A true hero?’

‘You’d better believe it.’

‘Will you try for publication?’

‘A million authors are striving for publication. What makes you think anyone would like my book?’

‘I like it.’

‘That’s ’cos you’re the hero. I’ll send you a copy when I’ve worked out my happy ever after.’

‘Happy ever after works in books?’

‘You have to believe in it somewhere.’

A cloud drifted over the sun. A shadow crossed Mary’s face and she shivered. Enough. He rose and put down a hand to help her up.

She stared at it for a moment as if she was considering whether to take it. Whether she should.

‘You need to let me help a little,’ he said gently. ‘I’d like to.’

‘I’d like to help, too,’ she said. ‘Where’s Jake?’

‘Still in New Zealand, winding up his movie.’

‘Would you like me to talk to him?’

‘No.’

‘That’s not very polite.’

‘Families are complicated.

‘You don’t need to tell me that.’ She ignored his hand and pushed herself to her feet, wincing a little as she did.

‘You’re hurt?’ The tiny flash of pain did something to him. She was pregnant. What did he know about pregnancy? Surely she shouldn’t have flown. What if there were complications? What if...?

‘Twenty-four hours squashed in a tin can is enough to make anyone achy,’ she said. ‘So let’s get that “Call the artillery and have me carted off to Emergency” look off your face.’

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where are you staying?’

She told him and he struggled to keep his face still. Not a salubrious district. Cheap.

This was the mother of his child.

No. This was Mary.

‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.

‘I’ve just figured out the subway.’

‘Good for you but I’ll still take you home.’

‘You have a car?’

He hauled out his cellphone. ‘James will be here in two minutes.’

‘Wow,’ she whispered. ‘Wow, wow, wow. Bring on James.’

* * *

She sat in the back of a car that’d have everybody back home gathered round and staring. She sat beside Ben, and a chauffeur called James drove her back to her hotel.

It wasn’t in a salubrious part of town. It wasn’t a salubrious hotel.

The chauffeur pulled to a halt out the front of the less-than-five-star establishment and turned to Ben.

‘Is this the right address, sir?’

‘No,’ Ben said. ‘It’s not.’ He turned to Mary. ‘When did you arrive?’

‘The day before yesterday?’

‘You’ve stayed here for two nights?’ His tone was incredulous.

‘It’s clean,’ she said. ‘I checked it out on the internet before coming. It has everything I need and it’s near the subway.’

‘It doesn’t have everything I need. This is a dodgy neighbourhood at the best of times. I bet you’ve been walking around alone, too. It’s a miracle you weren’t mugged.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Not if you’re staying here you can’t.’ He sighed. ‘James, stay with the car. Do not under any circumstances leave it alone in this district. We’ll be as fast as possible.’

‘We?’ Mary pushed open the car door. ‘There’s no we. You’ve brought me home. Thank you very much. Goodbye.’

‘You’re not staying here.’

‘Says you and whose army?’

‘I am,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘a trained commando. I’ll take you by force if necessary.’

‘Oooooh,’ she said, pretending to cower. And then she sighed. ‘Quit it with the dramatics. Bye, Ben.’ She was out of the car and up the steps of the hotel—but he was right beside her.

‘I said goodbye,’ she hissed.

‘I heard. Let me see inside.’

‘No.’

‘It’s a public hotel.’

‘No!’

‘You’re the mother of my baby,’ he said, loudly, possessively, and she stopped and stared.

‘My baby?’

‘That’s why you came all the way to New York. To tell me I have a share in this. I might not be able to dictate where you stay but I will have a say in how safe our child is.’

She stared at him.

She hadn’t thought this through, she decided. Had she given him the right to dictate how she treated...his child?

What had she done?

‘It’s fine,’ she said through gritted teeth, and he took her arm and smiled down at her, and she knew that smile. It was his I’m in charge and you’d better come along quietly or I’ll turn into a Logan smile.

‘Let’s just see, shall we?’

* * *

Which explained why twenty minutes later she was standing on the doorstep of what must be one of the most awesome apartments in Manhattan, staring around with shocked amazement.

‘I can’t stay here!’

He hadn’t quite picked her up and carried her but he might as well have. One look at her dreary hotel room, with its window that looked at a brick wall, with the smell of the downstairs hamburger joint drifting through the window and a bathroom with mould, and the father of her child had simply gathered her possessions and led her out. All the way to his place.

‘I have plenty of room,’ he said, dumping her decidedly downmarket duffel on the floor of his breathtaking apartment. She could see her face in the marble floor tiles. Her duffel was travel-stained and old. It looked ridiculous sitting against such opulence.

‘My father bought this as his alternative to home when Rita’s histrionics got too much,’ he said briefly. ‘Five bedrooms. My father never did things small.’

‘N-no.’ She crossed to the wall of French windows leading to the balcony. Leading to Central Park.

She needn’t have bothered asking to have her picnic there. She could see the Lennon garden from here.

‘It’s convenient,’ he told her. ‘You’ll be able to sightsee until you go home.’

‘I should go home now.’

‘But your flight isn’t until Monday.’

‘I... Yes.’ Her last-minute decision to come here and tell him had meant last-minute tickets. Which meant not the weekend. Today was Friday. She’d have two days living in this...this...place.

‘It’s scary,’ she said, staring around at the cool, grey and white marble, the kitchen that boasted four ovens, the massive leather lounge suites, the tinkling waterfall behind the living room wall. ‘It scares me to death.’

‘It beats the cave on Hideaway.’

‘On Hideaway we had cushions and Barbara’s quilt. Comfy. How do you get comfy here?’

‘I’m not here much.’

‘Social life?’

‘I work.’ He crossed to the kitchen, opened the massive fridge and stared into its interior as if he didn’t know what the contents were but knew he’d find something.

‘Soda? Cheese and crackers? Cold chicken?’

‘I’ve just had lunch. Who fills your refrigerator?’

‘A housekeeping service.’

‘A housekeeper?’

‘It’s a service. More convenient than just the one employee. I don’t need to worry about holidays.’

‘So you don’t even need to know your housekeeper.’

‘They come and go when I’m not here.’

‘That’s awful.’

‘What’s awful about it?’

‘You really are alone.’

‘I don’t need anyone,’ he told her. ‘I like my life.’

‘You need Jake.’

A shadow crossed his face then. How had this woman guessed what was hurting him?

He didn’t want to talk about it but then...this was Mary. Maybe he did.

‘We fight to be independent,’ he told her. ‘But the twin thing makes it harder. When he was hurt in Afghanistan I damned near died myself. And when I didn’t know whether that chopper had made it...it’s not a sensation I’d like to repeat.’

‘So you don’t want to get close to anyone else?’

‘I don’t want the responsibility of loving like that—but I will do the right thing by your baby.’

‘You just said it was our baby.’

‘It is,’ he said, and he sounded strained. ‘So I will do what I can.’

‘I hope he’s grateful.’ She gazed around with distaste. ‘I can tell you one thing, though. If he’s any child of mine, he won’t want to inherit this place.’

Inherit. The word was a biggie. Why had she said it? It took things to a whole new level.

She watched Ben’s face change again.

‘I didn’t mean...’ She spoke too fast, trying to take things back. ‘Ben, I’m not expecting anything, I told you. This baby...if you want, he can be brought up not even knowing he’s your son. Or daughter for that matter. Inheritance is nonsense. We won’t interfere with your life.’

‘You already have interfered.’

‘I shouldn’t have told you?’

‘Of course you should.’ He raked his hair in that gesture she was starting to know. It softened him, she thought. It took away the image of businessman Ben and gave her back the image of Ben in a cave. The Ben she needed to care for.

‘Ben, you like your isolation,’ she said softly. ‘We’re not threatening that. I’ll return to New Zealand and ask nothing of you. If you want, you can set up a trust for this child’s education, but I’ll not raise him expecting anything from you. You can walk away.’

‘I can’t walk away.’

‘But I can,’ she said. ‘And I will. Come Monday. Meanwhile, which of these doors leads to a bedroom I can use?’

‘The bedroom at the end of the hall’s mine. Choose any other. They all have en suites.’

‘Of course.’

‘Mary?

‘Yes?’

‘Have a nap,’ he told her. ‘Then I’ll take you out to dinner.’

‘I’m having a sleep, not a nap,’ she told him. ‘A really long one. I’m jet-lagged like you wouldn’t believe and this pregnancy makes me want to sleep all the time. You can go back to whatever you were doing. You need to be independent and I’m not messing with that. Thank you, Ben, and goodnight.’

* * *

She slept. He headed for his study and stared out over the park.

He needed time to work out all that was inside him.

Maybe it wasn’t possible for him to work it out.

Mary was carrying his child. He was going to be a father.

Coming, ready or not.

The old chant, sung by children for ages past in the game of hide and seek, was suddenly echoing around in his head, almost as a taunt.

A father.

Abortion? The word drifted through his consciousness but when he tried to work out some way he could say it to her, something like a wall rose up.

He couldn’t say it.

He didn’t want to say it.

This would be Mary’s baby and he didn’t want her not to have a child. It was a convoluted thought but it was there as a certainty. And somehow... The time in the cave with her had been time out, like a watershed, where fear had laid all bare. That a child should come of it... It seemed okay.

Was that sentiment? Was it hope?

He couldn’t get his head around it.

He didn’t have to, he told himself. For some reason Mary had come halfway around the world to tell him, yet she was proposing leaving again on Monday. He never needed to see her again. He could pay into a trust account once a month. He could stop thinking about it.

How could he stop thinking about it? He slammed his fist down on the desk so hard it hurt, and suddenly he wished he could talk to Jake. Ring him. ‘Jake, I’ve screwed up...’

In his present mood Jake could well say he should tell someone who cared.

In this position Jake might do better, he conceded. Jake would be able to play the caring dad. He was great at acting.

If he himself was better at acting, maybe he could pull this off.

Pull what off? Being a caring dad?

He couldn’t do it. He didn’t know how. He thought back to the rages and the coldness that had been his childhood. He tried to think how he could possibly relate to a child.

He could try, but he couldn’t act, and if he felt nothing...

His father had felt nothing. His mother...she’d told them she’d loved them but in different ways all the time. Like she was playing different roles.

‘I won’t act,’ he told himself. ‘I can only do what I can do, and I won’t put myself in a position of power.’

So what could he do? Send money? That felt so much like what his father would do. Send money and get rid of the problem.

On impulse he hit the internet, heading for the site where Smash ’em Mary flew round the track, dodging and weaving, leading her team to victory.

It was a rough game, and that was putting it mildly.

Surely she wouldn’t be able to play now she was pregnant.

The words of the lawyer he’d sent to help her echoed in his ears as well.

‘We’ve won her monetary compensation, and she’s been reinstated in her position as district nurse, but there is local antagonism,’ he’d told him. ‘Her father and stepmother are wealthy. They control much of the commerce in the town and people are afraid to upset them. Her stepmother is vindictive, more so now that we’ve forced this resolution. Life’s not going to be easy for your Mary.’

Your Mary. The words had swept over him then, but they came back to haunt him now.

She wasn’t His Mary. She was a woman he scarcely knew. He’d been stranded with her for two days. Two days was tiny.

She was a woman who’d come half a world to tell him she was pregnant because it was the right thing to do.

His fist slammed on the desk again. Lucky the walls were solid. Lucky Mary was sleeping three bedrooms away.

He needed to get away. Think. Go back to the office? Do something to stop him going mad.

He headed back to the living room. He’d carried Mary’s duffel into her bedroom for her but her capacious purse was still on the bench. It looked shabby, worn, and it pricked his conscience as nothing else could.

A folder was edging out the top.

And suddenly he was back at the cave, waiting for Mary to come back from her interminable search of the island, hating himself that he couldn’t be with her. Distracting himself by reading Mary’s make-believe. He’d been the hero.

‘I wonder what I’ve done now?’ he said aloud, and looked at the purse again.

She knew he’d read the beginning. It was sitting on the bench, an open invitation. She’d said he was facing dragons.

He could just...read.

But not here. The proximity to Mary—to a woman he hardly knew, he reminded himself—was doing his head in.

He lifted the folder from her purse and put it in his briefcase.

He’d just go...somewhere and disappear into Mary’s fictional world.

Maybe Jake was right. Maybe reality had too much to answer for.