by Leah Ashton
She’d tried to explain how she was feeling to her sisters, and they’d said the right things, but...
The thing was, it wasn’t the same for them. It wasn’t their baby.
Angus would understand.
Ivy tilted her head backwards until it bumped against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
He’d emailed her a couple of times while he’d been gone, when he’d been at camp. She hadn’t really expected that, although she supposed she should’ve. He’d never just disappeared, even when she’d wanted him to.
He’d been polite, asked how she was going, how the baby was. That was it—nothing else. Certainly no mention of their last conversation.
Despite everything, she hoped he’d be home soon.
Yes, a huge part of her cringed at what she’d said when she’d last seen him. When she’d so haphazardly laid her heart on the line.
It was embarrassing.
Mortifying. And a lot of other things.
But—she couldn’t regret it.
She looked down at her tummy, at where the best mistake of her life was growing.
No. She had no regrets.
And so she did wish he were here. So he could tell her his latest titbit of baby development he’d gleaned from his research. So she could voice her concerns time and time again and not feel as if she were being a crazy person, because Angus would get it. He’d understand. He’d be all strong and reassuring and he would probably even hold her hand—just because she needed him to.
Of course even if that morning all those weeks ago had ended differently, he still wouldn’t be here.
He’d warned her of the realities of his work, and she’d understood—but it was still hard.
She didn’t have any right to miss him, not really. But their baby would.
She laid her hand on her stomach.
But she reckoned this baby would be pretty tough. This would be their reality—Daddy away for weeks or months at a time. But back for long stretches, also.
And this baby would be loved. So loved. Angus would love this baby with all he had. He already did, Ivy was sure.
And wasn’t that what mattered, really? Love?
The sonographer walked into the reception room, and called out Ivy’s name.
April grinned, immediately jumping to her feet, and Ivy followed behind her.
Minutes later she lay on her back, her still-pretty-flat tummy exposed and smeared in gel.
The sonographer explained what she was doing, and directed Ivy’s gaze to a screen mounted above her and to the right. ‘You’ll be able to see everything there.’
And then she could see everything.
A baby. An actual tiny baby with arms and legs and a fluttering, healthy heart.
Tears stung her eyes and crept their way down her cheeks.
April gripped her hand, and smiled, with tears making her own eyes glisten.
Ivy loved this baby with absolutely everything she had. With an intensity she hadn’t thought possible.
Her whole life had been about her career. Every day she’d woken up to thoughts about work and gone to sleep after checking her email. Her weekends had simply interrupted her business hours—and, while she’d had some vague, future plan of maybe, maybe one day getting married, it was always to the most sensible, the most appropriate of men. Certainly not men that made her skin tingle or who took her breath away.
She used to think she was being wise in her dating choices. That she’d learnt from the mistakes of her past, and was ensuring that she’d never again fall in love as recklessly as she had with Toby. She’d believed she needed to protect herself from the loss of control that love seemed inevitably to bring.
But now, now that all these years later she’d fallen in love again, she knew how wrong she’d been.
She hadn’t put up barriers to protect her career, or to retain control—not really. She’d put up barriers because Toby had been her first love—and, however misguided, losing him had hurt.
She hadn’t wanted to feel that way again.
But despite her best efforts, here she was.
Desperately in love with a man who didn’t love her.
And it hurt. So much.
She knew what she’d told Angus had been right—that he was capable of loving her.
The problem was, he didn’t.
But this baby in front of her, wide awake and rolling unhelpfully for the smiling sonographer, he or she would love her.
And, for now, that would be enough.
* * *
The Friday he arrived home, after just over five weeks away, Angus visited Tom.
The days were getting longer now, and Tom and Angus sat on the edge of Tom’s timber decking as Tom’s two kids ran about the backyard in the fading sunlight.
Carise had hugged him, hard, when he’d arrived, but said barely a word.
She was clearly glad he was here, which surprised him.
Being invited here had surprised him, too.
Surely deserting your friend in his time of need nixed any future dinner invitations? It would seem not.
Although Tom was, understandably, cautious, and far from the jovial, loud man that Angus remembered. Was that the PTSD? Maybe. But Angus guessed that, tonight, it was mostly his fault.
Tom didn’t know what to expect of his supposed mate who’d just so randomly dropped back into his world.
Angus didn’t blame him.
For a while, they both quietly sipped their beers as they watched the kids.
‘Scott is getting tall,’ Angus said, just to say something.
‘Yeah. Amber will be tall, too, I reckon,’ Tom replied.
Then that was that.
‘Mate,’ Angus said, trying again. ‘I’m so sorry for—’
‘Yeah,’ Tom said, cutting him off. ‘That was pretty low.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, because—if nothing else—he could at least just keep saying that again and again.
His friend sighed. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know it wasn’t like I told you what was going on, not really, but I’d kind of hoped you’d ask. You know?’
Angus nodded. Yes, he knew.
‘I was—’ he began, but that wasn’t right. ‘I thought—’ But that wasn’t right either. ‘I didn’t understand,’ he went with, eventually. ‘I didn’t understand at all.’
Tom smiled, squinting a little now that the sun was low, peeking between the trees along his back fence.
‘You still don’t understand,’ he said.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’
Tom slanted him a pointed look. ‘Stop apologising or I’ll have to ask you to leave.’
And that comment was so much like the Tom that Angus remembered that Angus grinned, holding his glass and spare hand up in mock defence. ‘Okay, you get that I’m sorry.’
Tom nodded.
‘It was hard for me to tell you,’ Tom said. ‘Especially you. We’d been along this SAS journey together, and I’d just seriously derailed. You were still strong, and I was weak. A failure.’
‘No, Tom—’
Now his friend held up his hand. ‘Nah, I know. I’m not a failure for having a mental-health issue—and I have a seriously brilliant therapist who has helped me realise that.’ He paused. ‘She’s helped me with a lot of things, actually. Reprogramming my thoughts and reactions in certain situations, that type of thing. I still have the occasional bad dream, but mostly I’m all good.’
Angus smiled. ‘I can see that.’ And he could. There was an ease to Tom that was new, and a calmness. ‘But do you ever miss it?’
The challenge of what they did. The adrenalin rush.
Tom smiled. ‘I knew you’d ask. But
the answer is simple: no. I have a new career now. I’ve just got my builder’s ticket, and my business is going well. I choose my own hours, I get to spend more time with my kids...it’s great.’ He downed the last of his beer. ‘But then, it was always different for you, wasn’t it? The regiment is more than a career for you. It’s your life. It’s who you are.’
It’s who you are.
But was it?
He thought of the past five weeks, and the complex international training exercise with a close Australian ally he’d just completed. It had been tough, it had been challenging, and he’d learnt a hell of a lot.
And he’d loved it. Loved every last second of it.
So yes, the SAS was who he was. Since his father’s death it had been all that he’d wanted, and now he’d made it, it was all he ever wanted to do.
But for the first time maybe he needed to ask a different question. Was the regiment all he was? Was it all he wanted?
* * *
A familiar musical jingle jolted Ivy out of her lovely deep sleep.
She blinked, staring up at her ceiling. Light streamed in through her lounge-room window—but then, that was to be expected in the middle of an almost summer Sunday afternoon.
Ivy swung her legs off her couch, and padded on bare feet down the hall to the intercom panel near her front door.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Angus.’ His voice was just as delicious as she remembered. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course,’ she said, surprised. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You didn’t answer your phone,’ he said. ‘Can I come in for a bit?’
She pushed the button that would let him in, then unlocked and opened her front door, before heading into the kitchen.
She grabbed the CD she’d had copied for Angus at the ultrasound clinic, and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Angus while her phone had been on silent during her nap.
For some reason that made her smile.
Angus’s heavy footsteps approached down the hallway.
When he stepped into the room, he seemed bigger than she’d remembered. Even taller.
He was dressed casually, a white T-shirt, dark shorts and flip-flops. It had become warm while he’d been gone, and today it really did feel like summer. Especially for Ivy, given her body’s thermostat seemed permanently set about five degrees hotter than before she was pregnant.
As always, the weight of Angus’s attention did all sorts of things to Ivy’s tummy. She’d need to work on that reaction; it was hardly helpful.
She was dressed in the girly version of his outfit—white shorts, red singlet, no shoes. She hadn’t expected any visitors today, and she knew she was all creased from her nap, but Angus still made her feel as if she were the most stunning woman he’d ever seen.
Maybe that was just how he looked at all women? Regardless, it wasn’t helpful, either.
‘Any bump yet?’ he asked.
He crossed the room, but he seemed...different. He always seemed so relaxed, so confident, so comfortable—but not today.
She shook her head. ‘Not yet. A few extra kilos, but I can’t blame the bub for that.’ Ivy held out the CD. ‘Here, so your visit to make sure I’m still breathing isn’t wasted. I’m not sure if you saw that photo I emailed you, but here are the rest. Personally, I think the 3D images are a little creepy.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. He rotated the CD case in his hands a few times. ‘I didn’t just come to check on you. I called because I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Okay,’ Ivy said. She gestured vaguely at the couch, and then her bar stools. ‘Take a seat?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I—’ He flipped the CD case a few more times. ‘Ivy,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to you about my dad.’
That was about the last thing she’d expected him to say, but she simply nodded.
‘I told you that my dad died when I was seventeen,’ Angus said. ‘But I didn’t tell you what happened.’
‘You said it was sudden,’ Ivy said, remembering.
‘Yeah. Although it wasn’t an accident, or an illness—he stepped in front of a train the day he realised he’d lost the family business.’
‘Oh, Angus—’ Ivy began, instinctively stepping towards him.
But he shook his head. ‘I used to be so proud of him. He started with only one furniture shop, and ended up with thirty. He took us from a ramshackle house to a mansion. But that was the problem, in the end—he overexpanded. Took one too many risks.’ Angus shrugged. ‘That’s what I don’t get though. I know he could’ve started again. He’d had nothing before, and Mum and I didn’t care about the flash house, school and car. I’m still angry at him about that.’ He paused for a long time.
He took a step towards her now, but then seemed to change his mind, and remained where he was. ‘Anyway—the point of all this, and I promise there is one, is that when my dad died, I couldn’t sleep.’
‘That makes sense,’ Ivy said, but she was completely confused.
Angus’s lips curved upwards without humour. ‘I’m not very good at this. Maybe we should sit down.’
He led her to her couch, and they sat, side by side—but with a good-sized polite gap between them.
‘I’ve always been a great sleeper,’ Angus said. ‘But when dad died, I just couldn’t. Which I’m sure is normal. It went on for months—months of tossing and turning and snatches of sleep, and it certainly didn’t get any better as Mum started to get sick. Then one night, I slept, and I was back to normal. And that only happened once I’d finished school and joined the army. It was like my subconscious could finally rest again amongst the rigidity and structure the armed forces gave me.’
He leant forward, putting the CD on her coffee table with a clatter. He remained leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at Ivy.
‘The night you told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t sleep,’ he said. ‘That was the first time since Dad died that’s happened. But then, once I got my head around the idea and even feeling good about it—everything went back to normal.’
He sat up properly now, turning slightly so he faced her.
‘Until two days ago. I had an awful night’s sleep on Friday. And an even worse one last night.’
Ivy had no idea where this was going. ‘I’m sorry?’
His smile was subtle. ‘You should be, given it’s your fault.’
‘I’m lost,’ she said. She’d never seen Angus like this. There was an uncertainty in his gaze she was completely unfamiliar with.
‘I used to think there was something wrong with me because I didn’t have Tom’s nightmares, or that I was some robot because I enjoy the challenge of combat. I thought because I could walk away so easily from my girlfriends to go to war, because I never missed them—and because I was never that excited to see them when I returned—that I had to be lacking something. As if when my dad died and my mum got sick that my ability to love had gone with them. I thought that all I was was my job, and that, yes—maybe I was just a fighting machine incapable of emotion.’
Had he shifted on the couch? Or maybe she had, because now their knees were almost touching.
‘But I worked out that I’m not sleeping because my life has been knocked off kilter, and until I set it right again it’s not going to get any better. And the reason I’m floundering so badly—both right now and when I try to get some sleep—is because of you, Ivy. Meeting you has changed everything.’
‘So you want me back in your life so you can get some sleep?’ she asked, only half joking.
‘No, I want you back in my life because I love you.’
And Ivy was so stunned she said absolutely nothing at all.
‘I’ve realised I was wrong. It isn’t that I’m not capable of emotion, or of falling
in love—I just wasn’t prepared to take that risk. And before you, I certainly hadn’t met someone where that risk even seemed an option. I know how devastating it is to lose the people you love, and for the past fifteen or so years it’s been a hell of a lot easier just to distance myself from all of that. If I don’t love someone, it’s easy when I’m deployed. It’s easy to walk away.’ He caught her gaze. ‘You were right the other night, you know, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I had too many years of believing what I’d been telling myself, that I couldn’t comprehend anything different.’
They’d both moved closer now, their knees bumping together.
‘I used to think...love was dangerous,’ Ivy said. The word was still hard to say, even if the echoes of Angus’s declaration still rang in her ears. ‘I thought love would cause me to lose control. To make poor decisions. To lose myself.’ Her lips quirked. ‘And, well—I was right about the control bit. I’m not quite myself when I’m with you, and that scared me. But the thing is, I’ve realised I’m not nineteen any more. I’m an adult, and my own person, and I’m not about to get swept up in silly delusions and daydreams. And yes—maybe it doesn’t hurt if I lose control, now and again. You’ve even helped me learn that it’s okay if I make mistakes.’
Angus reached out to still the hands that she barely realised she was twisting and untwisting together. He held them between his, his touch warm and reassuring—but, even now, shooting shivers along her skin.
‘You’re amazing, Ivy Molyneux,’ he said. ‘Amazing, and strong, and smart, and beautiful. I made the worst mistake of my life that morning, but I hope like hell I’m not too late to fix it now.’
Ivy looked down at their hands. At first she’d kept her hands still, but slowly she shifted her fingers, until their hands were linked together.
She leant closer, then lifted her gaze until it tangled with his.
‘I love you,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘You and our baby weren’t part of any of my plans, but you’ve turned everything upside down in the most wonderful, perfect way. I guess that’s how love is supposed to work? Without any plans.’
‘Yeah,’ Angus agreed, his breath warm against her skin. ‘No plans. But lots of risks and probably more mistakes along the way. Are you okay with that?’