‘It’s not you. I love you, Faith, but…’ He paused. ‘Look, as you said, you might not even be pregnant. We’ll get the test and then we’ll work out what to do about it.’
He put his hand on the gear stick ready to take off again.
‘Hang on a minute, what do you mean “work out what to do about it"?’ She brought her hand down on his. Her heartbeat was thumping in her ears. ‘You’re not suggesting we might … not have it?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to.’ She tried to slow her breathing. ‘Don’t you want to have children?’
There was another long pause.
‘I’m sorry, Faith, but I’m not sure.’
He may as well have shot her point blank between the eyes. ‘Are you serious? Why?’
It didn’t make sense. He was so warm and fun and full of life. He’d grown up in a loving family, and it seemed only natural that one day he’d have his own.
‘Oh, my God.’ She bit her bottom lip, suddenly recalling the conversation she’d overheard him having with Ruby in the restaurant. ‘It’s because of Will, isn’t it?’
This was not a conversation Monty wanted to be having in the dark at the side of the road. He didn’t really want to have it at all. Somehow, blinded by his feelings, he’d ignored the fact that most people saw children as an inevitable part of any normal relationship.
How could he have been so stupid? Faith had professed her desire for a boyfriend, a husband, numerous times over the last year. Of course she’d want a family as well.
At the thought of telling her his innermost fear, his chest burned as if he were experiencing the worst kind of heartburn, but she’d looked straight into his eyes and asked him outright. She deserved the truth.
‘Yes. I suppose.’ He let out a drawn-out breath. Swallowed. He wished he could feel differently about his life, but he knew some things were impossible to change.
‘Talk to me, Monty. This is huge.’ There was an edge to her voice, and he imagined it a mixture of anger, disappointment and sadness.
‘Here? Now?’
‘I don’t think there’s any perfect place for this type of conversation. Do you?’
He switched off the engine. ‘I know you love Will. And I love him too, but you have no idea what it was like growing up with him. He came first in every single decision Mum and Dad ever made. What we ate for dinner, where we went on holiday, the type of music I was allowed to play in the house. He’d have a meltdown if things didn’t go his way, and there was never anyone to be with me because they had to look after him. When I went out, I had to take him, look out for him, so I never got to make friends of my own.’
‘You had me.’
‘I meant in Perth. Where we moved because Will needed early intervention therapy and a school that had more resources to deal with him.’ Monty couldn’t keep the caustic tone out of his voice. ‘If it hadn’t been for Will, we’d never have sold the farm and I wouldn’t have had to work my arse off the last ten years to get back what should have been mine all along.’
She gasped. ‘Monty, just listen to yourself
‘You don’t understand. And that’s why I’ve never said any of this before. Because no one would. You just can’t.’
‘Oh, can’t I?’ She took an angry breath. ‘Try being a girl and watching your brother get priority to work on the family farm. Forrester’s Rock might still be in our family but it will never be mine. Never. Life isn’t always handed to you on a silver platter, Monty.’
‘I know that, Faith. You think I don’t know that? But there are certain things that are within our control. I might not be able to change the past and get back my family’s land, but I can sure as hell make sure I don’t have to give up Clancy’s Breakaway for anyone.’
‘You’re not making any sense. Why in hell would you have to give up Clancy’s Breakaway? Having kids would only complete the dream. You’d be starting your own legacy. You’d be able to pass on your love of the land and raise someone who wanted to keep it going long after you’re gone.’
‘And what if there’s something wrong with that child?’ He nodded towards her stomach. ‘They don’t know yet whether autism is genetically passed on or not.’
‘Then I will love it with all my heart and do whatever it takes to protect it. Just like your parents have with Will.’
‘Exactly.’ He sighed. ‘Which means if it is like Will, or even suffers another disability, you will seek all the opportunities you can to help it. If that’s expensive or time-consuming, maybe you’ll want me to sell Clancy’s Breakaway like my parents sold their place.’
Although it hurt, and probably always would, Monty admired the way his parents had sacrificed so much for Will. The problem was, he didn’t know if he had the emotional capacity to do the same … and that scared the bejeesus out of him. Even though he loved Will, he’d never been able to move completely past the resentment of the things he’d lost because of him. What if he had a child and came to resent it?
‘That is absurd,’ she scoffed. ‘Who even thinks like that? You’re insane. What if the child is perfect and we abort it because it might not be? Have you thought of that? Or what if something happens to me? Maybe I have a farm accident that leaves me crippled, and I need you to sell the farm and look after me. Will you resent me forever?’
‘Of course not.’ But even as he said it, he wondered if he would. Faith meant the world to him, but what if something happened and she stood between him and his dreams?
‘If I didn’t need my sleep for the ball tomorrow, I would get out and walk home,’ Faith fumed. ‘But maybe I’d be just as well hitching a ride because right now I feel like I’m sitting next to a stranger. I can’t believe you never mentioned any of this before. All these years I thought I knew you, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.’
‘You do know me.’ He reached for her, wanting to hold her and apologise—wanting desperately for it to be all right— but she flinched and pulled away so hard she rammed against the ute door.
If only they hadn’t slept together. If only they’d both been content to leave it at friends.
‘I’m sorry, Faith.’ The apology sounded inadequate but he meant it more than anything in the world. ‘If you’re pregnant, we’ll get through it. I’ll provide for you both financially and—’
‘I don’t care about your money. A baby needs more than financial security.’
He wanted to tell her that he would do his utmost to be the kind of father her baby deserved, but maybe it was best she’d cut him off. When your girlfriend told you she was pregnant, you were supposed to be over the moon, but fear had been his overriding emotion. Whatever way he said it, he’d already told her the damning truth, and he couldn’t take that back, no matter how much he wanted to. Or how much he wished it weren’t true.
He couldn’t change something that was such an innate part of him any more than he could change the past.
Starting the ute again, Monty swung back onto the road. The silence rang out until he could bear it no longer. ‘Do you still want me to be your date tomorrow night?’
‘Not really,’ she answered bluntly. ‘Right now I can barely stand to look at you, but I don’t want to ruin everyone else’s night. Your mum was so excited about us being together, it’s going to break her heart to find out we’re not. Let’s leave it till after the weekend.’
‘Okay. Thanks. And what about the … baby?’ He had to force that last word out. No matter what she thought of him, he would never shirk his responsibilities. ‘Would you like me to buy you a pregnancy test tomorrow or see if Doctor McDonald will see you on the weekend?’
‘Forget about the pregnancy test, Monty. You’ve made your position clear. Forget about the baby. And while you’re at it, you might as well forget about me.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Once again sleep eluded Faith, but this time she was living the nightmare. She’d run from Monty’s ute, up the garden path, slammed the
door and headed straight for her room. Thankfully, Frank and Ryan hadn’t arrived yet, so there was no one to catch her with tears streaming down her cheeks. She stripped naked and tugged on one of Cassie’s old nightgowns—one she’d worn for weeks after her mother died. As she slipped the silky gown over head, she felt a twinge low in her belly. She placed a hand against the spot. The cramp surged at her touch, the pain shooting deeper.
For a second she wondered if she was miscarrying and then she realised.
Period pains. How stupid she’d been to think that one night of unprotected sex could have done it.
There was no baby.
Her heart sank as she yanked the nightgown off and traipsed out of her room, down the hall and into the bathroom where her assumption was confirmed. She opened the cupboard and grabbed a tampon. As the house was still quiet, she headed into the kitchen, threw a heat pack into the microwave and waited for the ping before taking it back to her bedroom. She needed it for comfort as much as pain. Sliding into bed, Faith glanced at the photo on her dresser and wished more than ever that Cassie was still with her.
‘Oh, Mum.’
She wanted to be held, to be cradled in her mother’s arms. For her mum to stroke her hair and tell her that somehow all this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But even if she hadn’t died, Cassie couldn’t have given her the comfort Faith really needed, because this time it was never going to be okay.
She’d lost everything tonight.
It wasn’t just the baby that had been oh-so-real in her heart—if only for an hour—it was the realisation that what she’d always believed about Monty was a lie. He’d known every fear, dream and disappointment she owned. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone else, yet he’d had this massive, secret resentment festering inside him all these years. Perhaps she should have known. If she were a better friend—if they were as close as she’d always thought—he wouldn’t have had to tell her; she’d have felt it herself.
A sob slipped from her lips and she slid farther down under her covers, hugging the heat pack against her aching heart. She tried to work out how they could get past this, but it seemed impossible. They’d been through too much. After the week of utter bliss she’d just experienced, there was no way she could go back to who she’d been before.
Unsure whether or not he’d be welcome, Monty arrived early at the Memorial Hall the next morning. As he sat on the wall outside, tapping his boots against the bricks, he prayed that somehow he and Faith could move on from this.
He might not be able to offer her what she wanted—needed— but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. At the sound of the four-wheel drive Ryan had driven home for her last night, Monty looked up. If she’d seen him, she pretended otherwise. Her door slammed and her boots thumped the pavement towards him. She sounded like a woman on a mission, but she looked like hell. She was still beautiful, and the sight of her curves made muscles jump up and down all over his body, but black bags hung under her eyes and the spring was absent from her step.
And it was all his fault.
He slid off the wall. ‘Morning, Faith.’ Not Forrester—she probably wouldn’t appreciate nicknames right now.
‘Glad you didn’t say “good”.’ She barely looked at him as she headed for the hall, keys jangling in her grip.
He opened his mouth but the words caught in his throat. He’d spent half the night tossing and turning on his lumpy couch, rehearsing what to say, but nothing would sound right.
As if reading his thoughts, she snapped, ‘Don’t try to talk to me about yesterday. I can’t deal with that today on top of everything else.’
‘Okay. Sure.’ He clutched at a smidgen of hope that maybe she’d be ready to talk about it someday.
They weren’t alone for long, and Faith looked visibly relieved when Ruby, Simone and Adam showed up. She threw herself into work—shifting tables she’d decided overnight were in the wrong place.
‘Let me get the end of that,’ Monty said, grabbing the opposite end of one table.
‘Leave it. I’m fine,’ she hissed. And she persisted in dragging the damn thing halfway across the hall on her own.
The caterers arrived and took over the kitchen. The stall owners came in dribs and drabs to set out their produce, and his mum arrived with her friends to flash up their little new-age tents. He shadowed Faith, and when she asked what the hell he was doing, he gestured towards Jenni. Faith nodded, but didn’t look at all happy about the pretence.
Two representatives from Dogs for Autism stopped by to introduce themselves on their way to check in at the hotel. They thanked Faith for choosing their organisation to support. She gushed over the two gorgeous labradors they’d brought along, and he stood awkwardly talking to one of the ladies about Will. Like almost every other conversation he’d had about autism in the past, he screened his words.
Faith’s glare bored into him. No doubt she thought him a liar, or worse, a hypocrite, but what she didn’t understand was that he did support this cause. He understood more than most what it was to live with someone who had autism. He’d watched his brother struggle through school and life and he was proud of what Will had achieved.
He just didn’t know if he could go through it all again.
Faith had quite forgotten about the complication of Katarina Lamberusco-Cunningham until she felt Monty take her hand. Traitorous heat flooded her body at his touch, and in the name of self-defence she tried to pull away. He held on tight and nodded towards the door as he whispered, ‘I think your friend has arrived.’
As if this day could get any worse.
Faith promptly forgot her dastardly hormones and looked up to see Kat standing in the doorway. Her perfectly straight sheath of platinum blonde hair fell almost down to her waist, and the pair of bug-like designer sunglasses perched on her head turned slowly from side to side as she surveyed the hall. Faith swallowed, suddenly wondering if the paw print décor wasn’t stylish enough for an alumnae-associated event.
Monty stepped forward, still gripping her hand, as he took control of the situation. ‘Good afternoon, Katarina. I’m Daniel Montgomery, Faith’s boyfriend.’
Faith’s heart leapt back up to caress her throat as she watched Kat’s eyes take in every inch of Monty’s body. Or maybe it was the fact she knew his words were a mere façade. From the flush in the other woman’s cheeks and the excessive fluttering of eyelashes as she offered her hand, it was clear Monty had scored an A+ in Kat’s assessment.
She found her voice. ‘Hi, Kat. Thanks so much for coming. Is your husband outside?’ Although Monty was no longer hers, she felt the need to remind the other woman of her married status.
Kat blinked and shook her head slightly as if trying to work out who Faith meant. ‘Oh, no.’ She paused a moment, then sighed. ‘Our babysitter cancelled and both sets of grandparents are out of the country, so Paul had to stay home with the children. I’m a single woman tonight.’ She seemed excited by this prospect and her gaze once again lingered on Monty.
Faith yanked his hand, drawing him right into her side in spite of herself. ‘That’s such a pity, but I’m sure Adam will be happy to drive you in tonight. I wouldn’t want you out late on unfamiliar country roads on your own.’
‘Adam?’ Kat turned up her nose as if she’d smelled something shocking. ‘Who’s he?’
‘Hi there.’ Adam stepped forward and offered his hand. ‘The cottage you’ll be staying in tonight is on my farm. I can take you there now if you’d like.’
Kat licked her lips as her smile reappeared. Apparently Adam didn’t score too badly either. ‘Thank you, that would be lovely. A quick nap would work wonders before this evening. I feel like I’ve driven halfway across the country.’
With barely a backward glance, Kat linked her arm through Adam’s and turned towards the exit. He looked back over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. Faith knew her friend could more than handle any advances Kat threw his way, but she made a mental note to thank him later. The thoug
ht of having to babysit Kat as well as deal with everything else on her agenda was too much.
‘That went well, I think.’ Monty nodded towards the door with a forced grin.
Faith let out a breath of relief and stole back her hand. Kat appeared to have bought their charade, but Faith found she no longer cared about the other woman’s opinions.
‘She’s not very warm, is she?’ Ruby commented.
Simone snorted. ‘Warm? She’s like the ice-queen. I swear the temperature dropped twenty degrees when she walked in. Makes me even more determined to win this contest for you.’
‘Thanks.’ Faith summoned a smile, but it was an effort. Right now, she found it difficult to garner enthusiasm for anything. Especially winning a silly contest. Although winning had never been her ultimate goal, she needed to hold it together just a bit longer to ensure she raised good funds for her charity.
After a tense morning, Monty arrived home to find his dad watching the Dockers playing the Sydney Swans on TV. His mum and three of her hippy friends were relaxing on the back porch sipping homemade mocktails. Everything appeared so normal, yet nothing felt right. He offered a quick hello but made sure not to linger; the last thing he wanted to do was get involved in a discussion about numerology or crystals or something equally ridiculous.
His mum hadn’t always been this New-Age in her approach to living. Both he and Will had been immunised as babies and made to wear shoes outside, and although she’d made sure her children ate healthily, Jenni had never obsessed over what went into their mouths.
Not until Will was diagnosed with autism. Then everything had changed.
Looking back, his parents—Jenni particularly—had been desperate to find something to blame for their seemingly bright baby turning into a toddler who couldn’t communicate on the most basic of levels. Jenni strongly believed in the link between immunisation and autism. After Will’s diagnosis, neither he nor Monty was ever immunised again, and she was very vocal about the risks when telling anyone who would listen.
Dad hadn’t been convinced. He’d ensured Will received all the traditional and scientific treatments as well, but Jenni had focused on alternative therapies, especially aromatherapy and diet changes. She found herself fascinated by the benefits of oils, and through this met a number of unusual people—hence her subsequent involvement in tea leaf reading, numerology, astrology, palmistry… You name it, Jenni had tried it and made friends through it.
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