Executive: Expecting Tiny Twins

by Barbara Hannay

  Balancing her career with one baby, whether it was a boy or a girl, had always seemed doable. But twins? Twin boys? Even with a nanny, how on earth would she cope with raising two boys on her own?

  ‘Here’s our car,’ Jack was saying, and Lizzie dragged her mind back to the present. ‘I suggest we drive to Emu Crossing.’

  ‘Is it far?’

  ‘Five kilometres. There’s a nice spot on the creek bank for a picnic.’ Jack smiled. ‘You can get over your shock without half the town watching.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that. Thank you.’

  As they drove out of town Lizzie watched the passing scenery in a kind of daze. Dimly, she was aware that everything about her seemed normal—vivid blue skies, ochrered earth, white-trunked gum trees and grass the colour of pale champagne—but her head was buzzing with the idea of twins. Twin boys.

  Double the trouble.

  What on earth did she know about boys?

  She had friends with sons, of course. From what she’d observed, little boys played endless soccer and cricket, and one or two of them had kept frogs in their pockets. Others had spent hours in the backyard—heavens, my apartment doesn’t even have a backyard—playing with their dogs until they were covered in mud and came inside smelling like puppies.

  Their mothers adored them, of course, so Lizzie was sure she would adore her boys, too.

  Just the same, the idea of having two of them was overwhelming. Two rowdy and messy boys instead of one tidy and quiet girl. Perhaps it was some kind of cosmic joke?

  Out of the blue, a new question arrived. Would the boys look like their father?

  For the first time, she wished she knew more about donor number 372. What would it be like for boys to grow up without knowing him?

  Then she remembered, with a bigger shock, that history was repeating itself. Her family would have another set of twin boys to follow on from Alessandro and Angelo. Another generation.

  It was a sobering thought on all kinds of levels, and now, thinking again about the whole sorry business between her mother and Luca, Lizzie made an instant decision. She wouldn’t let her little boys down. Whether she stayed in politics or found another job, she would do everything in her power to give her sons the very best start in life.

  Encouraged by this resolution, she sent Jack a smile. ‘I think I’m slowly starting to adjust to the news.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘I just have to wrap my head around the idea that I’ll be bringing up two boys.’

  ‘It’ll be interesting.’

  Jack slowed down, then turned off the main road, disrupting a flock of grazing budgerigars that took off in a wild fluttering of bright green and yellow.

  Ahead of them now lay a perfect picnic spot—a grassy bank overlooking a creek lined with majestic paperbarks that leant out over the wide, still water, as if they were admiring their reflections. Close to sandy shallows a lone white heron waded silently, patiently.

  Jack threw down the tartan rug, and when Lizzie was comfortable he handed her a hamburger. ‘Better tuck into these before they get soggy.’

  Fortunately, the burgers weren’t the least bit soggy. Lizzie licked her lips. ‘This is so good. I hadn’t realised I was hungry.’

  ‘You’re eating for three,’ Jack said, smiling, and then he raised his drink bottle. ‘Anyway, here’s to your news.’

  ‘It is good news, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it is. The best.’ Slowly his grin faded and his expression grew serious. ‘Do you think two boys will bring the father into the equation?’

  Lizzie felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘How do you mean?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘I know it’s a long way off, but I was thinking that your boys will eventually want to know who their father is.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her stomach churned uncomfortably. ‘I suppose it’s more than likely that they’ll want to make contact with him when they’re older. They can do that now, when they’re eighteen.’

  ‘So your six-feet-three engineer could be a busy man.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He could have fifty or more kids trying to track him down.’

  Lizzie winced. ‘I—I suppose that’s possible.’ She hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about the other babies her donor might have fathered.

  ‘Eighteen years is a long time, Lizzie. Your sons will be adults by then, and in the meantime they won’t have a male role model.’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ she said tightly. ‘But I grew up without a father, and I wasn’t harmed.’

  ‘But as soon as you were old enough, you came to Australia to be with your dad. And I imagine he welcomed you with open arms.’

  Too true. Would her boys be so lucky? A sudden, painful ache burned in Lizzie’s throat. Her eyes stung, and her appetite was ruined.

  She dropped the last of her hamburger back into the paper bag, and leaned forward, hugging her knees, remembering her tempestuous teens, and her growing need to come to Australia to get to know her father. She could still remember exactly how she’d felt when she’d hurried from the plane at Sydney airport.

  She would never forget that spine-tingling moment when she’d seen her dad, and the way his eyes had glittered with tears, and how he’d hugged her, so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

  He’d taken her to his flat near Sydney Harbour and they’d sat on the balcony overlooking the water, arms linked, talking and talking for hours and hours and hours.

  The next day he’d taken her sailing, teaching her the ropes with gentle patience, and she’d felt as if she’d truly come home.

  The memories brought goose bumps out on her arms, which only grew worse when she projected forward, and imagined her boys in their teens. Teenage boys were always a worry. More often than not they were angry about something, no matter how carefully they were raised. How would her boys feel about the unusual circumstances of their birth?

  Had she made a terrible mistake, trying to do this alone? For so long she’d put her career first, but then she’d wanted a baby so much, and she’d planned to be both mother and father, but it wasn’t possible, was it?

  She stole a glance at Jack. He was, of course, perfect father material—warm and loving and full of fun, manly and athletic, tough without being rough. Her little boys would adore him.

  She would adore him.

  A hot tear fell onto her hand. Aghast, she tried to dash it away without Jack noticing.

  Jack noticed.

  He saw the way Lizzie’s hands tightened around her knees, and he watched her chin tremble. Then, oh, God, a silver tear slid down her cheek.

  It was too much. He couldn’t stay away a second longer.

  ‘Hey.’ Leaning forward, he drew her gently into his arms. ‘Hey, Lizzie… Lizzie.’

  He couldn’t bear to see her crying, but, if she needed to cry, this was how it had to happen. On his shoulder. In his arms. She might not have worked it out yet, but this was where she belonged. He loved her, and she needed him. The certainty of that was not fading.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed, pressing her hot face against his neck.

  ‘It’s OK.’ Jack stroked her silky, fragrant hair. ‘You’ve been under too much pressure.’

  For sweet seconds, she clung to him with a kind of desperation, but then, abruptly, she lifted her head, and took several deep breaths. ‘I don’t want to cry. I’m not really sad.’

  ‘Just stressed,’ he suggested.

  ‘Yes.’ Offering a watery smile, she touched her fingertips to his jaw. ‘Thank you.’

  He captured her hand in his. ‘Lizzie, you’ve got to let me help you.’

  ‘You have helped me, Jack. You’ve been…perfect. I’m really grateful.’

  ‘I want to go on helping you.’ His heart began a fretful pounding. ‘If you give me a chance, Lizzie, I won’t let you down.’

  ‘It’s too much to ask of you. I’m leaving here, Jack. And I’m forty, and I’m about to get huge and give birth to two babies and
—’

  ‘And I don’t care. Honestly, Lizzie, none of those things bother me. Can’t you believe that?’

  Lizzie shook her head, as Jack knew she would, but he could no more remain silent than fly to the moon. ‘I love you, Lizzie, and I want the whole package. To be a part of your life. I mean it. I love you.’

  Her hazel eyes filled with tears and Jack felt his heart drop from a great height.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she whispered. ‘You mustn’t.’

  ‘But it’s the truth. I’ve been falling in love with you from the moment you stepped down from that plane. I’m mad about you, Lizzie. There’s so much I want to do for you. Your life is so hard and it’s going to get harder and you’re trying to do it all on your own. I know you need me. And your boys are going to need me.’

  ‘Oh, Jack.’ Her face twisted miserably as she pulled her hands from his. She scrambled to her feet. Jack followed.

  ‘Can’t you understand?’ she cried. ‘I can’t turn to you now, simply because my life’s getting difficult. I’ve already worried myself sick because it looks as if I’ve simply used you. I don’t want to make it worse by asking you to help me now, because I’m expecting twin boys. I’d really feel I was exploiting you.’

  ‘Exploiting me? Are you crazy? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

  With a frantic shake of her head, she looked away, down the creek. ‘I’ve been thinking for days now that I’ve imposed on you for too long. I know you feel sorry for me now, but it’s time I left Savannah. I want you to get your life back to normal.’

  ‘Back to normal. Hell, Lizzie!’ He gave a wild laugh. ‘Back to normal would be taking you back to my bed.’

  Her response was a soft, sad little cry, half groan, half sob, and she seemed to sway on her feet as she closed her eyes.

  Jack stared at her lowered lashes, at her quivering mouth, so lush and sexy, even though it was distorted by her effort not to cry. Without the slightest hesitation he stepped forward, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

  And he delivered a message Lizzie couldn’t miss.

  Oh, heavens. Lizzie was full of great intentions. From the first, she tried to resist Jack’s kiss. She stiffened the moment his lips touched hers, but then his arms tightened around her, and she was enveloped by the smell of sunlight on his skin…and then his tongue touched hers, and she was clinging to him, and she couldn’t remember how to resist. Or why it was necessary.

  Her protests were swept away by whispers in her head that Jack loved her, loved her, loved her…and by blissful sensations…and soaring happiness…

  Until he finally released her.

  Only then did she hear the ripple of wind on the water and in the trees. She felt its coolness on her skin, and she came, panting and breathless, to her senses.

  Quickly, she regathered her wits, and her armour. ‘That kiss wasn’t very helpful, Jack.’

  His eyes glittered with a knowing green light. ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, Lizzie.’

  ‘Why? What do you think you’ve proved?’

  ‘That you do want me.’

  Unfortunately, it was true. Lizzie only had to hear Jack say the words—you want me—and coils of longing tightened inside her again.

  She straightened her shoulders. ‘We’ve been through all the reasons why we can’t have a future. Why are you trying to make it hard for me to leave?’

  ‘Because you’re being stubborn. You won’t admit how you feel.’

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. If she looked into Jack’s eyes again, she’d weaken. ‘I have to go, Jack.’

  For his sake, she had to be strong. Why couldn’t he see he should be with some pretty-eyed, horse-riding country girl? ‘This should have been a straightforward holiday romance, and I’m sorry if I let it get out of hand.’

  For the longest time Jack didn’t speak.

  Then Lizzie heard the snap of a twig. Her head jerked up and she saw him toss broken sticks into the water.

  The pain in his face made her want to weep.

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘I have to do this on my own, Jack.’ Oh, God. She felt as if she’d volunteered to have surgery without anaesthetic, but she forced the tremors out of her voice. ‘I have responsibilities, but they’re my responsibilities. Not yours.’

  The journey back to Savannah was strained and silent.

  ‘Unless you change your mind, I’d rather you didn’t talk,’ Jack ordered through tight lips, and he stared straight ahead, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, never once looking Lizzie’s way.

  The tension was awful—suffocating—and Lizzie sat in an agony of despair. Over and over, she reassured herself that she was doing the right thing. Leaving Savannah was her only option, and she had to make her departure as quick and clean as possible.

  It might have been different if she was sure she could make Jack happy, but how could she? He was such an easy-going, and likeable and genuinely warm guy, and if she transplanted him into her world, if he became her life partner, dealing with the pressures of her job, her babies, and her family, he would be forced to change.

  How could he be happy then?

  Her only solution could be to give up politics, but should she give it up for a man, when she’d stopped trusting men years ago? Where men were concerned she’d totally lost faith in her own judgement, and now, when she’d just had a shock, was the worst possible moment to ditch the wisdom she’d garnered over so many years.

  Loving Jack might feel wonderful and right, but with her track record she couldn’t trust something as intangible as feelings. Her only sensible option was to stick with her original plan, which meant she had to leave.

  Each day she stayed here only messed up Jack’s life more, and she cared about him too much to go on hurting him.

  By ten o’clock that evening, Lizzie’s matching pale green leather suitcases sat, packed and ready, on the floor beside the wardrobe. Her reading material was packed into the green leather holdall, her laptop was stowed away, and she’d organised her charter flight for first thing the next morning.

  She had no idea where Jack was. She hadn’t seen him at dinner.

  Bill told her he’d joined the ringers for a meal and to discuss a problem they had with one of the bores, so she’d eaten alone, and she’d had to leave a note for Jack, explaining her arrangements. Now she was alone again in her room, miserably searching her soul for the five thousandth time.

  The problem with soul-searching was that it dug up answers she didn’t want to find. Like her feelings for Jack…the way her heart lifted whenever he walked into a room…the way being with him made the simplest things special…the way his skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingers…

  She tried to force the thoughts out of her head and to concentrate on the amazing fact that in a little over five months she would have two babies. Two cuddly, snugly, warm and cosy baby boys.

  They would be everything Lizzie needed, the perfect, sweet companions. They had to be. Lizzie was pinning her faith on it.

  No maternal pressure or anything.

  Oh, gosh. Jack had said that on the day she’d arrived at Savannah, when he’d learned that she’d been named after Queen Elizabeth. Now she pressed a hand to her mouth as painful questions clamoured.

  Was she asking too much of her little boys? Before the poor darlings had even been born, was she expecting them to fill the Jack-sized gaps in her life?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE small plane was due to arrive at nine-fifteen.

  Jack rose early, skipping breakfast to clear the horses and flatten the anthills on the airstrip. Then he returned to the homestead to find Lizzie’s luggage at the bottom of the steps, waiting to be packed into the back of the ute.

  He’d been trying to stay numb ever since he’d read her note, and he loaded the suitcases like an automaton. It was the only way he would get through this.

  Lizzie had been in the kitchen saying goodbye t
o Bill, but now she appeared, dressed in Jack’s favourite soft blue jeans and the pale green top with the ruffles down the front.

  Last week, she’d joked that she wouldn’t be able to wear these clothes much longer, and they’d talked about ordering maternity clothes over the Internet. Now she was leaving, and Jack was stunned that it was all happening so fast.

  He’d failed. Again.

  If he’d been smarter, he would have found a sure-fire way to convince Lizzie that he loved her, that she belonged with him, and he with her. Maybe he should have told her earlier, later, with flowers, on bended knee. Anyway he looked at it, he’d stuffed up.

  And Lizzie had morphed back into Senator Green, organising her return to the city and the plane that would fetch her with one efficient touch of a button on her mobile phone.

  Now it was too late.

  In the skies above Savannah, the plane was already circling like a silver toy, glinting in the sunlight. Even Cobber knew what that meant, and the dog leapt lightly into the back of the ute.

  It was time to go.

  Apart from a polite hello and a nodded thank-you when Jack opened the door for Lizzie, neither of them could find anything to say on the way to the airstrip. They reached it at the same time the plane landed, amidst its usual cloud of red dust.

  Lizzie was pale as she got out of the ute.

  Jack had to ask. ‘Should you be flying? You don’t look well.’

  ‘I’m OK. I didn’t sleep much, that’s all.’ She looked across to the plane. ‘Jack, I really do want to thank you for—for everything.’

  He was dying inside, but he forced himself to speak. ‘Look at me, Lizzie.’

  She gave the tiniest shake of her head.

  ‘Lizzie.’

  Slowly, she turned, and he saw the sheen of her tears. Her chin trembled.

  ‘I love you,’ Jack said, and to his horror his eyes filled with tears, too. ‘I love you so much. I’d do anything.’

  ‘Jack, please.’ Her tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘Don’t make it worse.’