[Baby on Board 26] - Their Miracle Twins

by Nikki Logan

  Bel frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Things were strained between our two boys,’ Alice said. ‘It wasn’t comfortable for anyone when they were together back then. We all tried not to take sides, but Gwendoline was fiercely loyal to Drew, we could see that. Actually, I respected that even if I didn’t like it.’

  Denise snorted. ‘We’re not having this argument again.’

  Alice rolled her eyes kindly and heaved the kettle off the hob to pour boiling water into three mugs. ‘Andrew did not leave us because of Gwendoline Rochester, and well you know it,’ she said to her daughter. She tightened her lips and then turned back to Bel and addressed the rest of the story to her. ‘But I’ll grant you she was the reason he stayed away. He loved that girl beyond compare.’

  Beyond compare. Alice understood what her living grandson didn’t. That some loves just didn’t tarnish.

  ‘Sounds like he was lucky to have found that in life,’ Bel murmured.

  Alice looked at her strangely. ‘You sound almost wistful. Don’t tell me the newly-wed shine is wearing off already?’

  A love beyond compare—with Flynn? Bel couldn’t see it happening, no matter what she felt. There were too many secrets and lies between them. And a honking great court case.

  As if recognising the shadows in Bel’s gaze, Alice rushed on past her own insensitivity. ‘Well, regardless, suffice to say that despite having an identical accent to our other daughter-in-law, your character has restored our faith in the people of Britain.’

  Her smile was weak. Her accent must bring Gwen to mind every day for them. She waved an imaginary flag. ‘Bully for me.’

  ‘Not to mention making Flynn the happiest I’ve seen him.’

  Bel narrowed her eyes. While the past few weeks were most definitely the happiest she’d seen him, it said a lot about his usual demeanour if he was achieving some kind of lifetime personal best in the happiness stakes.

  She took a deep breath and stuck her nose firmly into her husband’s business, rubbing a twinge low along her hip. ‘What happened between Flynn and his brother?’

  ‘Anyone who says hell hath no fury like a woman scorned has clearly never met Flynn Douglas Bradley,’ Alice said chuckling.

  Bel frowned. ‘But … didn’t Drew trigger it? By leaving?’

  ‘I’m sure Flynn would have you believe so, but no … Drew ended it by leaving. And not a moment too soon before they did some permanent damage to their relationship.’ Her eyes grew sad. ‘Although no one could have foreseen what was going to happen on his travels.’

  ‘Can you tell me the story?’

  Denise snorted. ‘Oh, we’d need a white-out longer than this one to tell the whole sorry saga, Bel …’

  She looked around them and shrugged. ‘I’ve got nowhere to be.’

  And so it came out. The whole hurtful mess. Flynn, the young boy with a borderline learning disability who’d idolised his older brother, who followed him around like a puppy when he was younger. Flynn, the awkward adolescent having trouble fitting into his mismatched thirteen-year-old body parts, who was never quite as bright, quite as talented or quite as popular as his big brother—the brother who hit high school two years ahead of him and whose life grew too busy to have a kid tag along. Flynn, the boy who finally found acceptance and even adulation amongst a ratbag group of boys from troubled homes in the Sydney suburbs and finally found a way of getting noticed. Getting some spotlight.

  The good boy turned bad.

  Immediately Flynn’s words months ago made more sense. He must have felt sub-standard his whole life because of the slow start he got on his education. And Bel could most definitely relate to the self-worth issue. Flynn’s troubles with Drew were not because he hated him, they were because he loved him. Too much.

  ‘Everything he did was to get Drew’s attention,’ Bel whispered, her heart aching for the hurting young boy he must have been.

  ‘Oh, he got it,’ Alice murmured. ‘Just not the way he’d hoped.’

  Such a promising little boy had become a damaged young man, despite having the best parents a kid could want. It brought her own life journey into sharp relief. If she’d had the love of her parents, would she have chosen to resent Gwen for being the favoured child instead of clinging desperately to her love? Building a life around hers? Were her life decisions all that different from Flynn’s?

  Leaving home. Dropping out of school. The fashion. The sullen determination to go her own way.

  Had they just been a cry to be noticed by her—heartbreakingly oblivious—family?

  She lifted damp eyes. ‘And they never got past it? Drew and Flynn?’ She knew the answer. But was desperate for a hint of light in the dark tale.

  ‘Drew becoming such a global success was the final nail in Flynn’s emotional coffin,’ Alice whispered. ‘He felt he’d been left far, far behind. Like he didn’t cut it.’

  ‘But he’s so good at what he does. So capable.’ And his kind of capable was insanely attractive whether it was at a computer or in a paddock …

  ‘Flynn developed a different kind of smarts to his brother,’ Denise said.

  ‘I know which brother I’d want with me in a crisis,’ Bel agreed automatically. And it was true. For all Drew’s brilliance and corporate smarts and talent, he’d hired in others to take care of life’s more practical or unpleasant necessities.

  If Flynn had been on that Thai ferry he would have saved Gwen.

  The thought came out of nowhere and shook her. Hard. Her heart pulsed in her chest and started to gallop as old loyalties battled with new. She’d never in a million years imagined herself thinking something like that about Drew. She didn’t blame him for Gwen’s death—she didn’t! So where had it come from?

  You know where …

  It didn’t matter how important Drew had been to her before, it was Flynn who was important to her now. It was Flynn she loved. And respected. And honoured. Just like the vows they’d never said.

  ‘You say that like you knew him,’ Denise cut in, offended, and Bel realised how dangerous this whole conversation was becoming. ‘But Drew was a wonderful, loving boy who never caused us a moment of grief growing up.’

  Alice smiled sadly, sliding a fresh brew towards her. ‘I’m glad Flynn talks to you about him. He needs to let go of some of his old feelings.’

  Bel stretched across the kitchen counter to take the mug of hot tea and as she did her body crumpled in on itself as a vicious spasm hit her mid-section. It managed to be sharp, dull, heavy and laser-precise all at the same time. Her mug knocked and spilled hot tea across the kitchen benchtop.

  Oh, God …

  ‘Bel?’ Denise got there first, supporting her lest she tumble from the stool she was perched on.

  ‘Get her onto the sofa.’

  Distantly she realised that all the acrimony of just moments before was lost as Alice went straight into midwife mode and Denise willingly complied. Alice glanced at her watch. Then at Denise. Bel caught the look they exchanged.

  The funny moments of earlier today made sudden, awful sense. The weird offish feeling, the sharp pains low below her bump, the racing heart, the tight gut …

  ‘No …’

  ‘Don’t panic, love,’ Alice said, patting her shoulder as she sank into the sofa. ‘It’s probably just Braxton Hicks. Very common. But I’ll keep time just in case.’

  The landline was out. Their mobile phones were jostling their way towards Oberon township in Bill’s utility. There was always Flynn’s car but Alice didn’t drive and Denise couldn’t safely without her glasses, which were also in Oberon being repaired. And there was no way Bel could have squeezed her enormous belly behind a steering wheel even if she wasn’t doubled over in pain. They were just going to have to make do until the men returned.

  ‘Flynn …’ she whispered under her breath. She’d never wanted someone by her side more in her life. Capable, sensible Flynn.

  ‘He’ll be home soon,’ Denise crooned reassuringly. But the
second glance the two older women exchanged when they thought she wasn’t looking told a different story.

  ‘It’s too early,’ Bel gritted as the wave of ache slowly eased off.

  Alice stroked strands of hair from Bel’s suddenly clammy forehead. ‘Not for twins, love. Now, you just relax and I’ll make you a fresh cuppa. You may not have a single twinge more all day.’

  Or not.

  Bel lay stretched out on the living room rug with the now-drenched quilt from the spare room under her and a pile of sofa cushions propping her into a half sitting position, the only position she’d been able to find in five hours of labour that was vaguely comfortable.

  Labour. Several weeks early but otherwise progressing quite by the book which was probably the only good news as far as she was concerned. She fell back against the pillows following another contraction and took a sip from the lukewarm water Denise offered her.

  ‘God, I’m so glad you’re both here,’ she said to the women who she was lying to every minute of every day. Along with everyone else. Including Flynn, now that she had to hide her true feelings from him twenty-four-seven.

  Alice clucked. ‘There are much worse people to be stranded in labour with than a midwife and a woman who’s birthed two healthy babies of her own.’ But she still glanced at the wall clock and, though her expression didn’t change much, it added another wrinkle to the corner of her carefully neutral eyes. ‘And much worse places in this weather than a comfortable house with electricity and hot running water.’

  Bel nodded. It was true. What if she’d been out walking or alone in Flynn’s cottage? But knowing that didn’t help much—she was still absolutely terrified. Not for herself—for her children. At absolute worst, if she died from the excruciating pain that had started to feel as if it would never end, then at least the babies would have two willing, warm breasts to be pressed against and a whole family to rally behind them. They’d barely even know what they were missing.

  And if she didn’t die …

  She flexed her aching back. She’d cross that bridge if and when she came to it. Right now, surviving this just didn’t seem that likely. ‘Is it supposed to hurt this much?’ she gritted.

  Alice sank back onto her haunches and stared at her seriously. ‘Honestly? You’re only getting warmed up, Bel. I think it’s time that I did a physical exam, not just a visual. We’re getting much closer.’

  Her stomach sank. Not a good time to be prudish, she knew, but she’d been uncomfortable enough adding the aged Alice Bradley to the very short list of people who’d ever seen down there without shortening the odds even further by having her feel down there. Up there, presumably. But she was going to be getting very familiar with Bel’s body soon enough … She just had to start thinking of Alice as medical personnel and not family.

  Not that she was, truly, family. She didn’t really have any of those left. Not that counted.

  Tears prickled dangerously. God, where was Flynn?

  But she’d have to get through crises all on her lonesome after she went back to England. Better to start now. ‘Okay,’ she croaked. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  Alice took her through the basics of what was required, then disappeared into the kitchen briefly to wash her hands. When she returned they were bright red from the hot water and scrubbing. Denise stood by anxiously, waiting to be of more use.

  Bel looked away as Alice did what she needed to do. Wow. If a few fingers were that uncomfortable going in, what were two little people going to feel like coming out …?

  Alice’s voice drew her eyes back. ‘Relax, Bel. Remember your antenatal information. Your body is built to accommodate this process. Everything’s going to loosen up and expand. Babies have been slipping down birth canals for millennia.’

  Slipping. That sounded good. Slipping sounded easy. And quick.

  ‘Liar.’

  Alice chuckled and stared somewhere up towards the second storey of the house as she let her fingers do the walking. Assessing, measuring. Concentrating. The moment Bel felt the resistance of her body and saw the flare of confusion in Alice’s eyes, she knew she’d forgotten something major. Major-major.

  Hymen.

  The one Dr Cabanallo had left intact out of whimsy. The one the OBGYN told her would be taken care of by her body’s own natural changes when the birth process got fully underway.

  The one tellingly still intact.

  Which meant two awful things for Bel. First—she groaned deep down inside—that meant the birth process wasn’t even fully underway yet. And second …

  She and Flynn were well and truly busted.

  Months of lies fluttered like dead moths down around her prostrate form on the living room floor.

  ‘Mum?’ Denise asked anxiously, seeing Alice’s frozen demeanour. ‘Everything okay?’

  The older woman didn’t take her eyes from Bel’s but they narrowed slightly. ‘Everything’s good. We have a way to go though. No need to rush. Denise, love, I’d kill for a cup of tea, if you wouldn’t mind?’

  More tea. The country cure-all. Except it wasn’t going to cure this. Nothing was going to undo the expression on Alice’s face. As soon as Denise was out of earshot, the Bradley family matriarch leaned forward. ‘Is there something you want to tell me, Bel?’

  Tears rushed forward. ‘I can’t.’

  They narrowed further until they were little more than slits. ‘Why not?’

  Because you’ll all hate me.

  Because I’m a liar wanting to steal your only great-grandchildren away.

  Because I’ve dragged your already fallen angel down even further into hell with me.

  ‘It’s not my story to tell.’ Her body spasmed again briefly and she flinched. ‘And it’s not the right time.’ No, the right time had been eight months ago, the day she’d met them for the first time. That window had well and truly slammed shut.

  Alice regarded her steadily. ‘Later, then. Let’s get these children safely into our arms first.’

  Bel sagged backwards and made no effort to hide her relief but Alice didn’t give an inch. ‘But make no mistake. As soon as everyone is safely recovered we will be speaking about this. With Flynn. There must be quite a story here.’

  Oh, there was. A story of deception and collusion and fake marriage and secret love. Only she doubted Alice could even conceive how deeply Flynn was involved. They’d cling to their prejudices about the Rochester girls and no doubt speak of this day in whispered, appalled tones to the next wife that Flynn brought home.

  The thought broke Bel’s heart but she disguised her cry amongst the slamming agony that hit her as her body tried to force these babies into the world early.

  Bill and Arthur had long since given up drawing Flynn back into their conversation, reading his expression all too accurately. Bill took the turn-off down Bunyip Reach’s drive and rattled the final kilometre to the homestead. Flynn’s trip to town had been effectively aborted the moment his mobile pinged to announce it was back in range and down-streamed two days’ worth of emails and voicemail messages.

  He’d only needed to see the subject line of one email from Sanders & Sanders to know:

  Subject: FINDING RETURNED … NEXT STEPS?

  You didn’t ask for next steps if you’d won. And what he found inside the message was so far from winning …

  Arthur threw him another worried look. They’d had to keep driving after discovering that all of Oberon was incommunicado, two-hours further to reach the city of Bathurst. And two hours of stony silence returning wasn’t fun for anyone, least of all Flynn as his mind compensated for the silence with a flickering montage of images and memories of the past eight months.

  He’d been stupid to close his eyes and ears to the reality of what was really going on with him and Bel. It had been so easy to buy into the temporary happy family fantasy and lose himself in introducing her to some of the pleasures of her body and learning what made her mind and soul tick. To let himself care. Not think about what
was coming.

  Or how this was going to end.

  And now they were perilously close to that end. They had a verdict—albeit a wrong one—and in a few weeks they’d have the children safely delivered, too. Weeks. That was all he had to figure something out. Some way of ending this differently. So no one got hurt. Especially not the children.

  The car lurched to a halt outside the homestead and Arthur looked around. ‘Where is everyone?’ Not even the dogs had come out to investigate the return of the prodigal Bradleys. Flynn unbuckled his back seat belt and climbed out.

  He and his foul mood were a dozen steps ahead of his father and grandfather when the cry tore through the damp air—tortured and terrified.

  Bel …

  None of the Bradley men ran as a rule—it just wasn’t country to do more than amble—but all three of them ran now as they realised the women they loved were in trouble. Flynn just about took the door off its hinges as he burst into the homestead and then skidded to a halt at the sight that met him.

  Bel—stretched out on the floor drenched in sweat, her whole body heaving and shaking, her torso straining forward. Legs pulled up unnaturally hard.

  His mother—horribly pale, standing off to one side, staring intently at the pile of clean cloths bundled in her arms.

  His grandmother—too busy between Bel’s braced legs to pay any attention to the men who had just arrived.

  ‘One more, Bel. You can do it. We’re so close …’ His nan’s voice was firm and uncompromising, but he could see Bel clinging to that confidence like a lifeline. ‘Flynn Bradley, stop gawping and get in here,’ she said without looking up.

  Only then did Bel notice him, her eyes sliding desperately to his. Full of fear. Full of pain and desperate relief. Her hand stretched towards him, trembling.

  It was such an honest, heartfelt gesture …

  His heart sucked into a tiny nugget and then exploded outwards. Every latent feeling he’d been ignoring—suppressing desperately—surged forward and tangled about his useless feet. He’d judged her, he’d used her, he’d teased her, he’d fought with her and he’d kissed her. He had so little to offer her in return.