by Valerie Parv
They couldn’t because there would be no babies for them. Sam’s joy at his news only emphasized the rightness of her decision. If she allowed herself to become involved with Nicholas he would never know the joy she saw on Sam’s face now at knowing his baby was on the way. She I...liked Nicholas too much to do that to him.
Then it hit her with the force of a truck slamming into a brick wall. She didn’t like Nicholas. She loved him. Nothing else could explain the intensity of her feelings. Everything else paled into insignificance beside it. Not even the offer from Hollander Publishing could lift her to the same dizzy heights as spending one night in his arms at a hotel.
She would trade every bit of commercial success for the right to spend every night with him, she was finally forced to admit. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Nothing less than love could give her the strength to walk away and leave him free to have the family of his dreams.
Sam regarded her worriedly. “What is it, little sister? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Perhaps she had—the ghost of her hopes and dreams. Now she understood her driving need to get away from Yarrawong, before she gave herself away and admitted that leaving was the last thing she wanted to do. Loving Nicholas as she did, there was nothing else she could do and live with herself afterward.
“I’m fine,” she assured her brother huskily, sliding off the stool. “It’s time I got ready for this meeting. Wish me luck.”
He hugged her. “Good luck—if it’s what you want.”
“Of course it’s what I want. Don’t forget to send me an invitation to the wedding.”
“And the christening. You will be godmother, of course?”
A pain settled in the area around her heart but she nodded. “I’ll be the best godmother any baby ever had,” she promised.
The thought stayed with her as she prepared for the meeting that afternoon with the publisher. Until now the journal had been her baby, more a labor of love rather than a business, a bit like Sam’s furniture factory. Did she really want to see it turned into a mass-circulation glossy magazine with a power-dressed version of herself at the helm?
It was the story she’d told Nicholas, but was it the future she really wanted? She couldn’t have children, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have a family at all. Until Alexander reacted so badly she had intended to foster or adopt children, as her own parents had done. They had believed it was unfair to keep having more children, when there were already so many children needing love and care.
Not all men were like her parents, willing to accept another’s child as their own, although having three natural children first may have made it easier. She wished it wasn’t so hard to talk to her father about personal matters so they could have discussed how men felt about such things. Despite coming to Australia as a child and marrying an Australian woman, he still had the Welsh habit of keeping his innermost thoughts to himself.
Nicholas had taken Maree into his heart without a second thought, but then she was his brother’s child, and he expected to have his own children, as well. Knowing how much she loved him, Bethany couldn’t deny him that right, whatever the cost to herself.
She was glad to have the publisher’s meeting to prepare for, because it took her mind off Nicholas. He would haunt her dreams for many nights to come, but for now, she could focus on the business at hand. One day at a time, she told herself. It was the only way she could see herself getting through the lonely times ahead.
Angus Hollander, the son of the founder of Hollander Publishing, showed her into his office on the top floor of a Southgate office tower that boasted a spectacular view across the Yarra River.
He heard her sharp intake of breath. “If our discussions go well today, you could have an office like this, and sooner than you probably expect,” he informed her.
“It’s impressive,” she said, but couldn’t see herself in such a sterile setting. She took a seat across the desk from him. Sam might not approve of power dressing, but her navy suit and cerise shirt was absolutely right for this high-powered atmosphere.
She leafed through the offer document placed in front of her but without much enthusiasm. Angus Hollander would be surprised to know she had come with every intention of turning the offer down. Sam was right. The Baby House was more craft than business. It might never become her fortune but neither would she have to drag herself to work each day to earn a paycheck from someone else.
She leaned forward. “Before we begin, Mr. Hollander, I’d like to know how you became aware of my journal. The circulation is still relatively modest.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you said ‘still.’ We’re planning to boost it considerably once you come on board. Let’s say I heard about you from a friend with whom I serve on a state government instrumentality.”
Alarm bells sounded in her head. “The friend wouldn’t be Nicholas Frakes, by any chance?”
The publisher looked surprised. “As a matter of fact it would. He asked me not to mention his involvement because he said you’d insist on your work being judged on its own merit. Which, of course, it is, or we wouldn’t be having this meeting.” He flicked through a file on his desk that she saw held recent copies of her journal. “Nicholas did me a favor, bringing your work to my notice. You have a wonderful eye for layout and design. Do you handle all the feature writing, as well?”
“I have little choice. The Baby House is produced with a staff of one,” she pointed out. “Not having a lot of capital, I can’t give up my day job yet,” she added with wry humor. Only this morning she had called Stella Trioli at the children’s shelter to find out whether her casual job was still open. Stella had wryly told her that no one else was willing to work for the meager salary the center’s budget allowed, so Bethany could return as soon as she was ready, working the same hours as before.
Angus Hollander’s smile widened. “If your journal becomes a Hollander publication you can count on giving up your day job. And quite possibly your evenings and weekends as well. Nine-to-five people don’t last long here. You need to live and breathe publishing.” He paused, regarding her over rimless glasses. “Nicholas gives me the impression you’d fit right in.”
Her heart sank. Nicholas had bought the fiction of her career-mindedness, hook, line and sinker. Or had he? A new suspicion was dawning. What if he had arranged this meeting to test whether or not she had told him the truth?
She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Or a hard man. If she accepted Hollander’s offer she as good as sold her soul to the devil. If she turned them down, Nicholas would know she wasn’t as ambitious as she claimed.
But why go to so much trouble? Why couldn’t he simply accept that they weren’t right for each other and let her go off into the night? Was this some kind of macho thing, to satisfy himself that she was the problem and not him? As quickly as she hatched the thought, she dismissed it. Nicholas was one of the most secure people she’d ever met. If he agreed with her opinion of him, well and good. If he didn’t, she was welcome to it, anyway. It wouldn’t change his self-image one iota.
Unless he loved her, too. The thought made her throat spasm, and she choked, prompting Angus Hollander to offer her a glass of water. She nodded her thanks and sipped it slowly, needing time to think. If Nicholas had fallen in love with her, it was all the more important to keep her distance. Loving her had a price she wasn’t prepared to let him pay.
“Your offer is an interesting one,” she said when she could speak normally again. “I’ll want my business adviser to look it over before I give you an answer.” Sam would love being elevated to business adviser.
Angus Hollander nodded as if it was no more than he would have done. “Just as long as your answer is the right one.” He stood up. “Magazine publishing is getting more and more specialized. Niche publications like yours have a big future that’s still largely unexploited. If you don’t bring your dollhouse journal under our umbrella we may have to start one of our own.”
It was said with a smile, but she heard the underlying threat. She could join them, but she couldn’t beat them. She was sure Nicholas hadn’t foreseen this outcome when he recommended her to Hollander Publishing. She had only herself to blame for making him think it was what she wanted. But she had never dreamed the price would be so high.
Chapter Ten
“Come on little darling, eat your spinach. You love spinach. Here, you can even have it with banana.”
Nicholas watched in growing exasperation as Maree upended the bowl onto the floor. Not even allowing her to feed herself had made a difference this morning. Not for the first time, he wondered what secret women knew to achieve these miracles that men hadn’t yet discovered. Georgina, his old schoolteacher and now Maree’s nanny, didn’t seem to have this much trouble getting her charge to eat. Unfortunately, Georgina was at the dentist this morning, so he was on his own.
He picked up the bowl and exchanged it for a clean one, noting that the kitchen wasn’t as pristine as he had gotten used to since Kylie took over the housekeeping. She wasn’t due in until this afternoon, either, although he couldn’t remember why he’d given her the morning off. He expelled a heavy breath. Had he become so helpless that he couldn’t manage without these women in his life?
It wasn’t women, it was woman, he told himself grimly. He could do without almost anyone, except the one woman who had walked out of his life for good. “You miss Bethany, too, don’t you, little darling?” he asked Maree.
Was it his imagination or did she perk up at once? “Beh, beh, beh, beh,” she chanted. The new sound seemed to please her so she repeated it, “Beh, beh, beh, beh.”
“Are you trying to say Bethany? Me, too,” he agreed glumly. “It won’t help either of us. She isn’t coming back. We couldn’t compete with a dollhouse magazine, of all things.” In sheer frustration he threw a balled up tea towel at the wall. “Who’d ever believe I could be bested by a dollhouse magazine?”
Maree watched the tea towel slide down the wall. “Beh, beh, beh, beh.”
He spooned more food into the clean bowl. “Maybe you’ll eat this for Bethany.”
Maree looked at it with interest, then fisted the spoon and dug into the green porridge. “Beh, beh, beh, beh.” For one moment he thought the magic name had induced her to cooperate until she threw the whole lot at the wall where the tea towel had landed.
He let his jaw drop as he stared at the mess, then began to laugh. “Like father, like daughter, eh, Maree?”
She didn’t care whether Daddy was laughing in humor or hysteria. Maree was happy to join in, and the sight of her pleasure lifted his spirits slightly. It wasn’t a lot, because they had a long way to lift before they hit depressed, even. But he felt a little better afterward.
He was starting on baby breakfast number three when the telephone rang. He reached for it and tucked the receiver into the angle between his shoulder and chin. “Nicholas Frakes.”
There was a pause. “I was given this number for Bethany Dale. Is she available?”
The woman’s tone was briskly professional, and Nicholas’s senses went on instant alert. “Who is this?”
“It’s the Southgate Fertility Clinic. To whom am I speaking?”
He didn’t stop to think. “I’m Dr. Nicholas Frakes, Bethany’s fiancé. She isn’t here at present. She’s—at the dentist.” He glanced at Maree who gave every sign of rapt attention to the conversation. Lying was one skill he hoped she wouldn’t copy from him. It wasn’t something he normally practiced but the word clinic mentioned in connection with Bethany had chilled him to the core. He needed to know why she was getting a call from a medical facility.
“Will you ask her to call Dr. Jamison about her test results?”
He felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. “Test results? Look, we’re heading off overseas as soon as she gets back. You’d better give me the results and I’ll make sure she gets them.”
There was another pause. “Under the circumstances, and you, being her fiancé, I suppose it’s all right, Dr. Frakes. It might be better if she does hear it from you, rather than an impartial source. She’s bound to need support.”
“She’ll have all the support I can give her,” he vowed, meaning it with all his heart. His mind was racing. Was Bethany ill? Was it the real reason she had been so anxious to get away?
“Then please tell her that all the results are negative. Without surgery she has no chance of conceiving a child naturally, and only a one-in-three chance with the operation, so frankly, her doctor can’t recommend the risk for someone who is otherwise perfectly healthy. There are other avenues to explore, but she can discuss them when you return from your trip.”
Trip? His thoughts were so overloaded that he almost betrayed himself. “Of course, the trip. I’ll give Bethany your message.”
“Thank you, Dr. Frakes.”
“You’re welcome.”
She wasn’t welcome at all, he thought as he hung up the phone. For most women this would be devastating news, although he was having trouble thinking past the “perfectly healthy” part. For a moment he’d thought...
He sat down as his legs weakened. Bethany was perfectly healthy. Hang on to that. She wasn’t dying. She was only infertile. Then it hit him. The woman he loved—he may as well face it, there was no other explanation for the whirlwind of feelings tearing through him—the woman he loved couldn’t have babies. He stared at Maree in astonishment. “Now I know why Bethany left, and it’s my fault,” he told the baby.
She tilted her head to one side, “Beh, beh, beh?”
“Yes, Bethany. She left because of my big mouth.” How many times had he talked to her about wanting children? Every time he mentioned it must have been like a blow to her.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but did it make any difference? He knew which road was paved with good intentions because he was on it right now. How could he have been so blind? He did want children, lots of them. But more than anything in the world he wanted Bethany. He would rather have her and no babies than a cast the size of The Sound of Music and no Bethany in his life.
Restlessness surged through him. It was all he could do not to pace. Georgina wouldn’t be back for another hour, but as soon as she returned to look after Maree he would head for Melbourne. He had promised to deliver the test results to Bethany, and he always kept his promises.
“It’s chaos around here today,” Stella complained as she skirted a ladder and buckets of paint cluttering the hall of the Williamstown Infants’ Shelter. The historic building was badly run down and Stella had decided that they could no longer postpone the most urgent repairs and redecorating.
Bethany gave her boss a wan smile. “I picked the right time to come back to work.”
“I’m grateful you did. I’ve been running things practically single-handedly and can’t hope to attract anyone permanent until the decorating is finished. I’m glad you agreed to fill in because I really needed the help in the meantime. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come back to stay, even part-time?”
Bethany shook her head. “It’s crunch time for me. I have to decide what to do with the rest of my life.”
Stella’s eyebrows arched. “Sounds serious. I take it child care is not on the list.”
“I love working with the kids here but...”
“It isn’t everybody’s idea of a life’s work,” Stella supplied. “Don’t worry, I won’t pressure you to stay more than once a day, until we get back to a full complement of babies, then I may step it up to once an hour.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Bethany said wryly. Stella had placed as many of the children as possible in temporary foster care while the shelter was given its long-overdue facelift. Even so, five children under the age of two remained, so Bethany didn’t blame Stella for trying to persuade her to stay. The wages were low and conditions demanding and funds were always at crisis level, so Stella was accustomed to using every trick in the book to keep things running. Wh
ere the children were concerned she had no pride and few scruples.
They flattened themselves against a wall as a workman came past carrying another ladder. Stella’s voice stopped him in midstride. “Just a minute, young man.”
He turned. “Sorry about the disruption but you know what they say about omelettes and eggs?”
“I know what they say about smoking around young children,” Stella snapped back. With a look of distaste, she plucked the cigarette out of the man’s mouth, dropped it and ground it underfoot. “The first things I want put back on the walls are the No Smoking signs.”
The painter glanced at the mangled remains of his cigarette and seemed about to argue until he saw Stella’s face. “Whatever you say, lady.”
“Dr. Trioli,” she shot back. “How much longer is this going to take?”
The painter practically stood at attention, his ladder held like a shouldered weapon. “Another day and a half at most. If I could bring in more people...”
“A day and a half is fine,” Stella conceded. Bethany knew the budget didn’t stretch to employing more tradespeople. “But no more smoking indoors, understood?”
“Sure lady...er, Doctor,” he amended.
“And could you take a look at my office door? It’s sticking badly. It took me ten minutes to get it open this morning ”
The man looked relieved at being offered a way to redeem himself. “I can’t do it today if you want the painting finished, but I’ll fix it first thing tomorrow.” He took his ladder and himself off before Stella could think of anything else for him to do.
Bethany stifled a laugh. “You’re a tough lady... Doctor.” But there was admiration in her tone. It must be wonderful to have the courage of your convictions like Stella, able to steer a straight course through life, certain of your purpose, Bethany thought. Stella was a lot like Sam, she recognized belatedly. Both were people of vision. Neither of them cared about money, fame or what people thought.