Читать книгу Christmas Brides And Babies Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 31

The lake

DRIVING AWAY FROM the house, he felt like a load fell from his shoulders. He never had done other people’s family events well and the feeling of being an outcast had grown exponentially when he’d had to add the words ‘ex-inmate’ to his CV.

He realised Maeve was quiet too, not something he remembered about her, and he looked away from the road to see her face. Beautiful. She was watching him. He looked back at the road. Better not run over any kids on Christmas morning, riding their new bikes.

‘So where are we going?’

‘I saw a boathouse down on the lake. Thought we’d just sit on one of the park benches beside the water.’ He looked at her again. ‘That okay?’ He could smell the scent of her hair from where he was sitting. He remembered that citrus smell from nine months ago.

‘Sure.’ She shrugged and glanced at the seat between them. ‘What’s in the basket?’

He had to smile at that. Smile at the memory of Louisa’s need to give. ‘Emergency food supplies Simon’s grandmother worried we might need.’

Maeve peered under the lid and groaned. ‘She put in rum balls. I love rum balls. And I can’t have them.’

He frowned. She could have what she liked. He’d give her the world if he had the right. ‘Why can’t you have rum balls?’

She sighed with exasperation. ‘Because I’m pregnant and foetuses don’t drink alcohol.’

He looked at her face and for the first time in a long time he felt like laughing. But he wasn’t sure he’d be game to.

Instead, he said, trying to keep his mouth serious, ‘I hope our baby appreciates the sacrifices its mother has been through.’

Tartly. ‘I hope its father does.’

That was a kick to the gut. He did. Very much. He turned into the parking area of the boatshed and parked. Turned off the engine. Turned to face her.

‘Yes. I do. And I am sorry I haven’t been here for you.’

She sighed. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t know. That I couldn’t share the pregnancy with you.’

He thought of his state of mind in that prison if he’d known Maeve was pregnant and he couldn’t get to her. God, no. ‘I’m not.’ He saw her flinch.

‘Surely you don’t mean that now. That’s horrible.’ She opened the car door and he could feel her agitation. Regretted immensely he’d hurt her, but couldn’t regret the words. Saw her struggle to get out of the low car with her centre of balance all haywire from the awkwardness of the belly poking out front.

Suddenly realised it sounded harsh from her perspective. He didn’t know how to explain about the absolute hell of being locked up. About the prospect of staying locked up for years. About his guilt that his mother had died to get him out and he’d actually been glad. He still couldn’t think about the load of guilt that carried. He opened his own door and walked swiftly round to help her out.

Finally Rayne said very quietly, ‘I would have gone mad if I’d known you were pregnant and I couldn’t get to you. There was a chance I wasn’t coming out for years and years.’

She stopped struggling to get herself from the car. Wiped the tears on her cheek. Looked up at him. ‘Oh. Is that why you didn’t read the letters?’

‘I lost access to everything, Maeve. I was a faceless perpetrator surrounded by men who hated the world. I’d never hated the world before but I hated it in there. The only way I could stay sane in that toxic environment was to seal myself off from it. Create a wall and not let anything in. The last thing I needed was sunshine that I couldn’t touch and that’s what your letters were to me. That way led to madness and I had to stay strong behind my wall.’

‘I shouldn’t have sent them, then?’

It certainly hadn’t been her fault for sending them. She was an angel—especially now he’d read them. ‘You couldn’t have known. But they were something I looked forward to. I was going to open them when I got out. As soon as I got out. But then I got scared you would tell me not to come and I needed to see you and Simon one more time to explain. So I decided to open them after I saw you.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m so sorry I caused you pain.’

Maeve looked up at Rayne and saw what she’d seen nine months ago. Big shoulders under a black shirt, black hair cut shorter to the strong bones of his head, dark, dark eyes, even more difficult to read, but maybe they were only easy to read on the way to the bedroom. And that wicked mouth, lips that could work magic or drop words that made her go cold.

This was going to be tougher than she’d expected it to be. Something Tara had said to her a couple of days ago filtered back into her memory. Something about her knowing men who had been to prison and were harder, more distanced from others when they got out.

The problem was Rayne had already been distanced from people before he’d been wrongly convicted.

But when he’d said he was glad he hadn’t opened her letters, and she’d responded emotionally with the hurt of it, she’d been thinking about herself. Not about why he would say something hurtful like that. Not about what he’d been through. She promised herself she would try to help heal the scars that experience had left him with—not make the whole transition more difficult.

Guess she’d have to learn to filter her reactions through his eyes. And that wasn’t going to be easy because she liked looking at things her way.

But it should be easier with him here, not harder. The thought made her feel cross. ‘For goodness’ sake, help me out of this damn car.’ Not what she’d intended to say but now she thought about it she’d be a whole lot more comfortable with him not standing over her.

The dirty rat laughed.

But at least he put his hand out and again she sailed upwards with ridiculous ease until she was standing beside him.

‘You really are a princess, you know that?’

She glared at him as she adjusted her dress and straightened her shoulders. Re-establishing her personal space. ‘You have a problem with that?’

He looked at her, and if she wasn’t mistaken there could even be a little softening in that hard expression. ‘Nope. I love it.’

Warmth expanded inside her. There was hope for the man yet.

Rayne shut the door behind her and picked up the basket. Tucked her hand under his other arm, and she liked that closeness as they sauntered across to the lakeside seats.

Like nothing was wrong. She let it go. She’d always been a ‘temper fast and then forget it’ person so that was lucky because she had the feeling they had a bit of getting used to each other to come.

Further down the shore, a young boy and his dad were launching an obviously new sailing boat into the lake and a small dog was barking at the ducks heading their way away from those other noisy intruders.

‘I love ducks,’ Maeve said. ‘Always have. I used to have a baby one, it grew up to be an amazing pet. Used to waddle up and meet me when I came home from school.’

‘What did you call it?’

She could feel a blush on her cheeks. He was going to laugh. Maybe she could make up a different name. A cool one.

He bumped her shoulder gently with his as if he’d read her mind. ‘I want the real name.’

She glared at him. ‘I was going to give you the real one.’

‘Sure you were.’

Quietly. ‘Cinderella.’

Yep, he laughed. But it was a good sound. And so did she. Especially for Christmas morning, from a man only a few weeks out of prison who’d recently lost his mother and found out he was going to be a father. Going to be a father very soon. It felt good she’d made him laugh.

‘Imagine,’ he said. Then he turned and studied her face. His eyes were unreadable but his voice was sombre. ‘Thank you for even thinking of giving me a chance.’ And when she saw the sincerity, and just a touch of trepidation, now she felt like crying.

Wasn’t sure she should tell him about this morning—what if she scared him?—but couldn’t resist the chance. ‘You know, I woke up today and all I wanted for Christmas was to be able to talk to you.’

His eyes widened in shock. And something else—she wasn’t sure but it could have been fear. Yep, she’d scared him. Fool.

She felt her anger rise. Anger because it shouldn’t be this hard to connect with a guy she’d been powerless to resist and it wasn’t like he’d been doing something he hadn’t agreed to either that night they’d created this baby together. So there was a force greater than them that she believed in but she wasn’t so sure it worked if only one of them was a convert. ‘It’s not that hard to understand. I’m having a baby and there is supposed to be two of us. And if you don’t hate me, think about it.’

She turned away from him. Didn’t want to see anything negative at this moment. She watched the little boy jumping up and down as his little sailing boat picked up the breeze and sailed out towards the middle of the lake.

Nope. She needed to say it all. Get it out there because if it wasn’t going to happen she needed to know now. She turned back to him. ‘So what I’m saying is thank you for coming, even though you didn’t know I was pregnant, thank you for driving all this way on Christmas to see us.’

‘That’s nothing.’

‘I haven’t finished.’

He held up his hands. ‘Go on, then.’

‘If you want to do the right thing, do something for me.’ She took a big breath. ‘I’m asking you to stay. At least until after the birth. Be with me during the birth, because if you’re there I will be able to look forward to this occasion as I should be—not dreading the emptiness and fear of being alone.’

Rayne got that. He also got how freaking brave this woman was. To lay herself out there to be knocked back—not that he would, but, sheesh, how much guts had it taken for her to actually put that request into words? He felt the rock in his heart that had cracked that morning shift and crack a little more.

Heck. ‘Of course I’ll stay. Just ask for anything.’ Well, not anything. He didn’t think he was the type of guy to move in with, play happy families with, but he could certainly see himself being a little involved with the baby. He was good with babies. Good with children. For the first time in a long time he remembered he had an amazing job helping children and their parents and maybe it was a job he should go back to some time.

But he had no experience about making a family. No idea how to be a father. No idea what a father even did, except for those he’d seen at work. Simon’s father had just seemed to be ‘there’. He didn’t know how to do ‘being there’.

He glanced around the peaceful scene. Another little family were riding shiny pushbikes along the path. They all wore matching red helmets. The dad was riding at the back and he guessed he was making sure everyone was okay. That seemed reasonable. Maybe he could do that. The birds were chirping and hopping in the branches above his head like the thoughts in his brain.

This place had an amazing vibe to it. Or it could be the collective consciousness of celebrating Christmas with family and friends creating the goodwill. But he’d never felt anything like it. He looked at Maeve. Or seen anyone like her.

She was staring over the water into the distance but there was tension in her shoulders. Rigidity in her neck. And he’d put that there. He’d need to be a lot better at looking after her if he was going to be her support person in one of the most defining moments of her life. Of both their lives.

He stepped up behind her and pulled her back to lean into his body. Lifted his hands to her shoulders and dug gently into the firm muscles, kneaded with slowly increasing depth until she moaned and pushed her bottom back into him until her whole weight was sagged against him.

She moaned again and he could feel the stir of his body as it came awake. Down, boy. Not now. Definitely not now. He could barely get his head around any of this, let alone lose the lot in a fog of Maeve sex.

‘That feels so-o-o good,’ she said.

He just knew her eyes were closed. He smiled. ‘I’d need to get lots of practice to build up my stamina for the event.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ she agreed sleepily.

He shifted his fingers so that they were circling the hard little knot in her neck and she drooped even more.

‘You might need to sit down.’ He could hear the smile in his voice. Drew her to the bench they were standing beside and steered her into a sitting position. Went back around the bench so he was standing behind her—which helped the libido problem as he wasn’t touching her whole body now.

He began again. Slow circular rotations of his fingers, kneading and swirling and soothing the rigidity away, for her, anyway. His body was as stiff as a pole.

He’d never had this desire to comfort and heal a woman before. Plenty of times he’d wanted to carry one to bed with him, but this? This was different. His hand stilled.

‘Don’t stop.’

He stepped back. Created distance from something he knew he wasn’t ready for. Might never be ready for. ‘I remembered the bread.’ Pulled the brown paper bag from his pocket and gave it to her. A heaven-sent distraction to stop her interrogation into why he’d stepped back.

‘For the ducks,’ he said.

‘Oh.’ He heard the disappointment fade from her voice. Watched her straighten her shoulders with new enthusiasm. She was like a child. And he envied her so much. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt like a child.

Then she was into planning mode again. ‘You’ll have to stay at the manse so I can find you when I need you.’

Just like that. Room, please. ‘I can’t just gatecrash Simon’s grandmother’s house.’

She threw a knobby crust of bread at a duck, which wrestled with it in a splash of lake water. ‘Sure you can. Locum doctors and agency midwives come all the time when one of the hospital staff goes away. That’s where they stay. The manse has lots of rooms and Louisa loves looking after people.’

Unfortunately too easy. He’d said he’d be there for the birth. He said he’d be her support person. He’d said he’d do anything and the second thing she asked for he was thinking, No!

H pushed back the panic. It would be better than the hotel. And not as bad as just moving into a house with Maeve and having her there twenty-four seven as his responsibility not to let anything happen to her.

Now, that was a frightening thought.

He wasn’t on a good statistical run with saving people, which would be why he was an orphan now, and he went cold. Couldn’t imagine surviving if anything happened to Maeve on his watch.

He did not want to do this. ‘Sure. If Simon’s grandmother says it’s fine.’ He thought about his friend. ‘If Simon doesn’t think I’m pushing my way into his family.’

‘Simon spends every available minute with Tara. Which reminds me. Tara is my midwife. I might ask her to run through some stuff with us for working together in labour. She’s done a course and it works beautifully for couples.’

His neck tightened and he resisted the impulse to rub it. Hard. Or turn and run away. Couple? Now they were a couple? She must have sensed his withdrawal because she made a little sound of distress and he threw her a glance. Saw a pink flood of colour rise from her cleavage. Was distracted for a moment at the truly glorious sight that was Meave’s cleavage, and then looked up at her face.

She mumbled, ‘I meant a couple as in you are my support person in labour.’

Hell. He nodded, dropped his hands back onto her shoulders. Tried not to glance over the top of her so he could see down her dress. He was an emotionally stunted disgrace, and he had no idea what Maeve saw in him or why she would want to continue seeing him. He needed to be thankful she was willing to include him at all.

But he couldn’t come up with any words to fix it. He watched her throw some more bread scraps to a flotilla of black ducks that had made an armada towards Maeve. They were floating back and forth, their little propeller legs going nineteen to the dozen under the water. A bit like he was feeling, with all these currents pulling him every which way.

Across the lake the Christmas sailboat was almost at the other side. He could see the father and the little boat boy walking around the path to meet it. That father knew what to do. He wasn’t stressing to the max about letting his kid down. What training did he have? Maybe, if bad things didn’t happen, if he didn’t stuff up, if Maeve didn’t realise she deserved way better than him, he’d do that one day with his own son.

Or kick a ball. Ride bikes with him and buy him a little red helmet.

Or maybe Maeve’s baby would be a little miniature Maeve. That was really scary. Imagine having to keep her safe? The air around him seemed to have less oxygen that it had before, leaving him with a breathless feeling.

‘Want to see what’s in the basket?’ Maeve was pulling it onto the seat beside her. ‘We’d better eat something out of it before we go back.’

She handed him the rum balls. ‘Eat these so I don’t.’ Began to put mugs and spoons out.

He took them. Battened down the surge of responsibility that was crowding in on him as Maeve began to make a little picnic. Like any other family at the side of the lake. He didn’t know where the conversation should go or what he was supposed to do. She handed him a cup of tea and he almost dropped it.

He felt her eyes on him. ‘Relax, Rayne.’ Her voice was soft, understanding, and he wasn’t sure he deserved that understanding but he did allow his shoulders to drop a little. ‘It’s all been a shock for you. Let’s get through the next week and worry about long term later. I’m just glad you’re here and that you’ve said you’ll stay for the labour.’

She was right. He felt the stress leach away like the tea seemed to have soaked into the brown dirt. He sat down beside her.

She handed him the bag of crumbs. ‘Bread-throwing is therapeutic.’

Like a child. ‘You are therapeutic.’ But he took the bag. Before he could throw more crumbs, a tiny, yapping black-curled poodle came bounding up to them, the red bow around his neck waving in the slight breeze. He raced at the ducks and stopped at the edge of the water, and the black ducks took off in a noisy burst of complaint because they’d just found another benefactor in Rayne and now they had to leave.

A little girl’s tremulous cry called the dog from further down the street and the black dog turned, cocked an ear, and then bounded off towards his mistress.

‘So much for duck therapy.’

‘Poor Rayne. Come, snuggle up to me and I’ll make you feel better.’

He smiled and was about to say something when they heard the quack of another duck from the bushes beside them. He frowned and they both looked.

‘Is it a nest?’

‘Could be tangled in something.’ He was about to stand up and check the bush when the sound came again and the branches rustled with movement. He stilled in case he frightened whatever was caught in there and they watched the bushes part until a little brown bird appeared, not a duck at all, a slim bird with a long drooping tail that shook itself free of the undergrowth.

‘Ohh …’ Maeve whispered on a long sigh of delight. ‘It’s not a duck making that noise—it’s a lyrebird.’

Rayne watched in amazement. ‘A lyrebird mimic? As in Lyrebird Lake? I guess that figures.’ But there was something so amazing about the pure fearlessness of a wild creature glaring at them as it moved a step closer and cocked his head to stare their way.

Then the little bird, no larger than a thin hen, straightened, spread his fan-shaped tail in a shimmer of movement and proceeded to dance at the edge of the lake for Maeve and Rayne.

A gift for Christmas.

Backward and forward, shimmering his harp-shaped tail as it swayed above his feathered head, and Rayne had never seen anything like it in his life as he clutched Maeve’s hand in his and felt the tight knot in his chest mysteriously loosen the longer it went on. He glanced at Maeve and saw silver tears glistening.

He hugged her closer, drank in the magic without questioning why they were being gifted with it. All too soon it was over and the tail was lowered. One more stern look from the bird and he stepped nonchalantly back into the bush and with a crackle of foliage he disappeared.

They didn’t speak for a moment as the moment sank into both of them.

‘Wow,’ whispered Maeve.

‘Wow is right,’ Rayne said, as he turned and wiped away the silver droplets from Maeve’s face. Leant over and kissed her damp cheek. ‘I feel like we’ve just been blessed.’

‘Me, too.’ And they sat there in silence for a few minutes longer, in an aura of peace between them that had been missing before, and slowly the real ducks came floating back.