He shook his head as he reminisced. There had been other women since Jean—not exactly a parade, but enough for him not to be labelled a monk—however, no-one had been like his Jean, no-one. Not even Eva. The divorce had been amicable, though, and she had done very well out of it. He dismissed Eva from his thoughts and returned to Jean. Just thinking about her, the fun they’d had being together, how she had made him feel, made him smile for a very long time. Something was happening to his insides, too, when he thought about her; his gut was tightening up. Bloody funny, that!
Then it registered with him: her name was still King. She hadn’t married? Or maybe she’d married, divorced and gone back to her maiden name. He blinked and looked out the window at the smoggy city. It was a grey, drizzly kind of day. He wondered…Christ, what was he thinking? It was crazy!
Royce sat there for a few more minutes trying to talk himself out of what had come into his head, but in the end he just shrugged and reached for the phone.
‘Teresa,’ he said, addressing his secretary, ‘could you book me on a flight to Sydney—the sooner the better. And you’d better come in. I need to write some letters and cancel several appointments over the next few weeks. Oh, yes, and get Carlos on the line for me. He’ll be at the Venezuelan mine.’
His partner, Carlos Cordova, was going to think he had suddenly lost his mind, but reading about Jean, thinking about her, had started this itch. The urge to see Jean King was growing stronger with every passing minute, and he knew he had to respond to it.
Jean didn’t look up straightaway as the waiting room door opened to admit a new patient and a draught of cool spring air. The surgery had been really busy today. An outbreak of influenza in Sydney had filtered into the country, and people were falling victim to it like flies to a squirt of Mortein. Millie Fasanella’s flu had turned into pneumonia and Brooke had ordered her into hospital. The poor woman hadn’t been herself since that burns incident a few years ago. If Gino had any sense, Jean reckoned, he’d sell his takeaway shop, retire, and take Millie on a long holiday. Moving on, she began to sort through a pile of Medicare chits. Bulk billing. She hated it, but, as with many things she didn’t approve of, it was here to stay.
When she glanced up to see who the new patient was, she saw a well-dressed man standing in the middle of the waiting room. Dressed in a conservative navy pin-striped suit, with a pristine white shirt and conservatively patterned tie, he looked both well-to-do and a little nervous. Could be a newcomer to the district, she thought. Curious as ever, she took a closer look. The silver hair and beard fooled her for no more than twenty seconds, then she recognised him.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Jean, who never got rattled, became thoroughly rattled. For the first time in her life she felt faint. Her mouth dropped open with shock and she couldn’t think, for the life of her, of a single word to say.
Royce spoke first. His tone was noticeably husky, his smile tentative. ‘Jean, Jean King, is that you?’
The patients in the waiting room looked from one astonished figure to the other, sensing that something important was occurring.
Somehow Jean found the strength to stand up. She put both hands on the desktop to steady herself as she looked at the only man she had ever loved.
‘It is you! Royce Lansing. I don’t believe it.’ Her heart beat like a bass drum, and her fingers shook so badly with nerves that she had to press them down onto the desk to stop it. Her thoughts were in a whirl, going every which way, unable to focus or concentrate.
‘Believe it,’ he responded. ‘I…read about you in the Sunday Telegraph, what you and the doctor did. I know it was a while ago, but it takes time for copies to reach me in Argentina. I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure it was you, but I had to come and find out.’ His smile widened as his confidence grew. ‘It’s a long way from Buenos Aires to Sydney.’ He noticed some grey through her hair and a few wrinkles, but she was the same Jean, the very same woman he had fallen in love with almost half a lifetime ago. And even more remarkable was the fact that even before he saw her he had known that something of the old feelings remained.
Jean recovered enough to say with cool aplomb, ‘And where have you been for the last twenty-six years? You said you were going off for a year or two to seek your fortune, and that was the last I heard of you.’
He moved closer to the desk. ‘I wrote,’ he defended himself. ‘And I got your letters. But then after a while the letters stopped coming. When I came back to Australia I tried to find you, but it was as if you didn’t want to be found. I lost your trail after Katherine, and then later I went overseas again, to Alaska.’ But he hadn’t forgotten her. She had remained with him, buried deep in his subconscious all these years.
She was staring at him. She knew it was rude to, but she couldn’t help it. He looked marvellous…and prosperous…and he was here. Miracle of miracles. He was here! The reality of it was just beginning to sink in.
Brooke came out of the surgery with her patient. She saw the man, glanced at Jean and saw her slack-jawed expression. It didn’t take much intuition to guess who the man was. Royce. Jean’s long-lost love. She blinked with shock and a sudden sense of exhilaration for Jean. How wonderful! And no less than her dear friend deserved.
‘Why don’t you and Royce—’ she looked at him for confirmation: ‘it is Royce, isn’t it?’ and he gave a confirming nod, ‘—go somewhere private so you can talk. I’m sure you both have a good deal to catch up on.’ She was almost as gob-smacked as Jean. Jean’s lover, was here. It was like something from the pages of a paperback novel. Unbelievable.
Royce leant forward, his hand outstretched. And, without hesitation, Jean grasped it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jean was glad that Brooke suggested she take a week off to spend time with Royce. They had so much to talk about and catch up on. When they had left the surgery and gone to her cottage in Creek Lane, she had expected some awkwardness, but there hadn’t been any. It was as if the twenty-six years of separation had taken place in the twinkling of an eye, instead of the long years they had really been. He talked about the things he’d done, the places he had worked, and about his family. Then she picked up the photo of Greg and showed him what his son looked like. Royce had been speechless for some time and, when he’d found his voice, he wanted to know the hows and whys and wherefores, and couldn’t wait to meet him.
Jean was extremely relieved that Royce got along with Greg. Their son was a younger version of his father, and the two had similar natures, ideals and identical senses of humour. But she had made herself sick with worry about telling Greg the truth, that his father wasn’t Robert King but Royce Lansing. She didn’t know how her son would take the news. Would he be shattered, angry, relieved? At first it had been as she had expected: the news had rocked him. But when the initial shock wore off, and after Greg had asked a lot of questions as to how it had all come about, Greg was able to understand his mother’s motives.
‘It’s okay and I’m okay with it. I understand,’ he had said. He hugged his newly discovered father and began firing off a hundred questions.
Jean smiled to herself as she recalled what he’d then said to both of them:
‘It’s better to have a live father than the memory of one I never knew.’
She knew she would never forget his words. Ever.
Their week together went by in a flurry of activity. Royce got to know Greg and his fiancée, Connie Sanchez. He wined and dined Jean in several Cowra restaurants, and in turn she showed him over the area. They did touristy things together, and Royce had spent time with Greg, learning what made his son tick and what excited him. The two men spent a couple of afternoons riding around the countryside on horseback, happy in each other’s company.
Jean’s most amazing discovery over that week was that the love was still there; she still had feelings for Royce. For so long her emotions had remained in limbo because he wasn’t around, but seeing him again, getting to know the man he
had become, being with him practically every waking hour of the day, had allowed the love to blossom again. And to her, even more wonderful was that the feeling appeared to be reciprocated.
‘You know, Jean, love, you’ve gone and turned my ordered world upside down,’ Royce said. They were cuddling on Jean’s bed after making love for the first time.
‘Since the divorce I’ve got used to living on my own. Eva used to do things for me before we got divorced, but the last two years I’ve learned to do things myself.’ He kissed her tenderly and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, ‘Now you’re spoiling me rotten and I find that I kind of like it.’
‘Mmm, I don’t know about spoiling. A man makes life around the house more interesting, I won’t deny it. Messier too, I guess. I don’t mind, though,’ Jean answered as she snuggled up to his chest. She loved having someone to fuss over, and not in her wildest imaginings had she expected this to happen—to see him again, to experience loving and being loved. But, happy as she was right now, a part of her was very much afraid of how lonely her life would be when he went back to his world. She tried not to think about the tomorrows, to concentrate on today, but she was finding that easier to think about than to do.
‘How do you feel about international travel?’ Royce asked.
‘International travel? I’ve never done any. There was never enough money for that kind of luxury.’
‘Would you like to? Hell,’ he sighed and moved restlessly, ‘I’m not saying this very well. Look, I know how much you love Greg and that you’re devoted to Brooke and her family, but…What I’m trying to say is, could you see yourself doing something else?’ He paused. ‘Living somewhere else?’
Jean blinked and then she went very still. She had never thought about doing anything other than what she was doing now or living any place other than Bindi Creek. The question about living elsewhere threw her. ‘No,’ she said honestly, ‘I expect to spend the rest of my days in Bindi Creek.’
‘Hmm.’ He thought about that for a while and weighed up the possibilities. ‘What if I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me? What would you say to that?’
Jean jerked up onto one elbow so she could look at his face and read the expression in his eyes. He was serious. He’d rendered her speechless, again. ‘I…I…don’t know.’ She frowned. Why was she hesitating? She loved him and, assuming he was serious, he was offering her the chance for them to spend the rest of their lives together. The thought of it set her mind in a whirl. She hadn’t expected this at all. She’d thought he would consider their time together as no more than a pleasant interlude.
Royce was asking for a commitment, and she wanted to give it, only…She thought of Greg, Brooke and her family. They were very special to her. ‘I love you and I very much want to say yes, but I have to think about Greg. We’ve always been close, and Buenos Aires is a long way from Sydney.’
He kissed her and grinned. ‘It’s a bloody long way,’ he agreed. He hadn’t cared much for the fourteen-and-a-half-hour flight himself. ‘Which is why I’m thinking, maybe it’s time I came home, for good. I’ll be fifty-nine at the end of this year and I’ve spent almost half my life in foreign countries. It’s time I put down some roots, came back where I belong. During this week I’ve had time for some serious thinking. Carlos could be encouraged to buy out my share of the business, or take on a new partner. I’m already a wealthy man and, if I sell my partnership in Cordova and Lansing, I’d be even better off.’ Having said that, he was silent for maybe half a minute. ‘I’d like to re-establish links with my family, too. I haven’t seen my brother and two sisters and their families for years. Perhaps I’d look at investing in some Australian mining companies, just for an interest.’ He smiled at Jean, ‘I’m sure I’d be able to find a place in whatever I do for Greg, if he wanted me to…’
‘You’d do that for me?’
‘For us, love. For us.’
Jean was not a demonstrative woman, but she was so moved by what Royce wanted to do for her that tears began to roll down her cheeks. Impatiently, she brushed them away. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I never thought…’
‘Shush, love. Why don’t we sleep on it and discuss it again in the morning? Just know that now I’ve found you,’ he said, his tone turning serious, ‘I have no intention of letting you walk away again. If it takes a few adjustments to my life to accomplish that, then so be it.’
‘Oh, Royce, as if I’d want to. What you’re proposing is wonderful and…I accept.’ She still didn’t quite believe it, but if it was a dream, then she had no intention of waking up.
‘Good. Then if it’s okay with you, we’ll get married here. As soon as you get a passport, then we’re off to Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro for a honeymoon. After I do the deal with Carlos, we’ll come home via California so you can meet my daughters—they’re nice girls.’ That made him think for a moment or two. ‘Maybe Greg and Connie can meet us over there? How does that sound?’
She beamed at him. ‘Unbelievable. You’d better pinch me to make sure I’m not dreaming.’
He chuckled and hugged her to him. ‘If you are, love, then I’m having the same dream.’
The small dinner party Brooke threw for Jean and Royce to announce their engagement was one of the happiest occasions in the d’Winters house for a long time. Even Jason sensed that something special was taking place and was on his best behaviour. Wes and Drew Sinclair attended, but Fleece couldn’t make it because she was out on a special date with Nathan Stephanos. Ric and Angie Stephanos were there, plus Frank Galea and his wife, Marta, Hugh Thurtell, Greg and Connie, Craig Marcioni with his girlfriend, Leanne, as well as the whole d’Winters family.
Standing in for Jason, Wes made a warm-hearted speech, wishing the couple every happiness. Royce responded with ease, being the well-travelled man that he was.
For Brooke the dinner party was a bittersweet occasion. Oh, she was pleased for Jean. She deserved the happiness she had found. Jean had been a very good friend to her and, while she knew their roles would change in the future, she was sure their friendship would remain fast. But seeing them both so happy contrasted markedly with her state of mind. She and Jason had gone into their marriage with the expectation of living a long and happy life together—something Royce and Jean could now look forward to. Now, for her and Jason, the love and the joyfulness had evaporated, and she increasingly saw her future as one that would hold more disappointments and setbacks than good times.
Suddenly, she recalled how they’d celebrated their ninth wedding anniversary, at the B&B in Carcoar. It seemed so long ago, now, but that weekend had been the last time they’d made love. Back then she had thought they would go on forever like that but now, even though it might be selfish, she felt cheated by what life had dealt Jason and her.
Don’t go down this road, she warned herself and, with some effort, shook off the melancholy. Many women had it worse, she reminded herself. A lot worse.
It had helped more than she’d thought it would to have Craig move into the house. It seemed to settle Jason down to have another adult male about the place. The kids enjoyed Craig being there, too, as if he were an unofficial older brother, and the twins especially looked up to him and brought him their problems to solve. She smiled as she tried to get back into party mode. Two years ago, who would have thought that Craig Marcioni would be a part of the d’Winters household? Certainly not her.
When the party finished, and after the guests had left and the washing up had been done, Brooke remained curiously restless and couldn’t get to sleep. Something was bothering her, but the source of that ‘something’ was elusive; she couldn’t quite define what was disturbing her. She poured a small port and sat in the living room with just one lamp on while she tried to figure out what was bothering her. As she sipped the port she began to relax. Then the reason for her disquiet came: Wes!
Tonight he had been very different to the Wes she had come to know so well. Reserved and serious, as if he had
something on his mind. Or was it that he’d rather have been somewhere else? She was probably the only one who had noticed his coolness. The pattern had begun eight months ago, when she had disclosed her intention to run the surgery. Since then Wes had been restrained towards her. Initially she hadn’t been concerned, believing it was his nature to assess and reevaluate the new Brooke and, being who he was, he would inevitably make comparisons between her new career and that of his ex-wife. But she couldn’t deny that the camaraderie between them, the easiness that had taken years to develop, was now strained. The truth of the revelation saddened her; doubly so because she didn’t know what to do to change it.
With Jean and Royce in the throes of starting a new life, she needed his friendship more than ever. Jason did too. She sighed into the empty room and slowly drained the contents of her glass. She knew the answer—if there was an answer to Wes’s standoffishness—would not come easily.
Sharon Dimarco ran her gaze over her reflection in the bedroom mirror and made a decision. Vince was pushing her to name their wedding day. He wanted them to marry before she left for location in South Australia, and she couldn’t fob him off for much longer because he was growing quite impatient. She sighed as she thought about other matters. Things hadn’t worked out with Brooke the way she had planned. She had hoped that her ‘bad-mouthing Brooke’ campaign would pay dividends and cause her to move away. Unfortunately, it had been less than effective. The bitch had dug her heels in and was still here. Country people were so forgiving. In Sharon’s opinion, they were stupid.
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