She’d changed in many ways and Gus wanted to understand how and why.
But he didn’t invite her. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want to get too pally with him, and she was sensible to be wary. Nick was her focus and the boy needed every ounce of her attention and love. The very last thing she needed right now was the distraction of an old boyfriend.
Just the same, Gus couldn’t believe how hard it was to keep his distance from Freya. To start with, he saw her every day and each day she seemed to grow more beautiful. She was still like a Siren and being back in the Bay, surrounded by the sights and sounds and smells that accompanied their long-ago romance, was almost more trying than waiting for the test results.
Gus found himself recalling every detail of falling in love with her.
It had been so amazing to discover at the end of high school that the shy, elusive girl he’d been lusting after for two years was as interested in him as he was in her. At first it had felt like a miracle but, as the weeks of that summer rolled on, and in spite of their parents’ misgivings, he and Freya had grown closer and closer.
They would walk for miles along the coast just to be completely alone. The first time they made love, they were in a tiny secluded cove that was a two-hour hike from Sugar Bay.
Thinking about it now, Gus could still remember the heady scent of the sun on Freya’s skin and the silky smoothness of her tanned limbs, could remember her eagerness, her sweetness, her boldness.
And she hadn’t minded his fumbling nervousness.
He’d made love with more assurance and finesse the next time…on a stolen weekend in Poppy’s house…
Poppy hardly ever left the Bay, but she’d been invited to a birthday party for a friend who lived in Gympie and she was away for the entire weekend.
Freya had rung Gus at home. ‘Guess what? We have the house to ourselves for a whole weekend.’
‘Damn.’
‘Damn?’
‘I’m supposed to be giving Mel a hand on the petrol pump this afternoon.’
‘Can’t you get out of it? Swap with someone?’
He’d tried to con several mates into taking his place at the garage and he’d eventually bribed Fred Bartlet, promising to let Fred use his surfboard every day for a fortnight.
When he arrived at Freya’s, she greeted him at the front door wearing nothing but a smile and a pink sarong, and she’d lit scented candles and decorated her bed with a lavender tie-dyed sheet and frangipani petals.
They made love. They went for swims, came home and showered and made love again. They were sweet and tender. They were wicked and wild. They kissed and touched in ways they’d only read about or heard about, and they almost cried with the beauty and out-and-out fabulousness of it all.
They talked long into the night and cooked up a midnight feast, and Gus discovered that a girl like Freya could be so much more than a lover—she could also be his best friend. Hell.
How had he ever forgotten that? How had he let her slip away? Had he been under a spell that had broken the minute he left the Bay?
One thing was certain. It was too late to go back to the golden age of eighteen and he would drive himself mad if he kept asking these questions now.
After three restless days, Gus poked his head in at the Crane Brothers’ garage, where he found Mel in the middle of rebuilding an engine.
Mel lifted his cheery grease-smeared face from beneath the bonnet of a cream Citroën. ‘Sorry, mate, can’t stop. Old Bill Nixon wants this running smoothly for his granddaughter’s wedding on Saturday. Won’t get away till this evening. But how about we sink a cold one at the pub, say around half past six?’
Early evening found the two old friends perched on high stools at a bar overlooking the bay, reminiscing about their youth as they munched on salted peanuts and drank beer from tall frosty glasses. Mel had always been a great story-teller and Gus enjoyed hearing what their old friends were up to these days, as well as receiving proud updates about Mel’s wife Shelley and their two children, a boy and a girl.
But eventually, inevitably perhaps, the conversation swung around to Freya and Nick.
Gus came back from the bar with their second round of drinks and set them down, and Mel said without preamble, ‘That boy of Freya’s is a fabulous kid, Gus.’
Despite the skip in Gus’s heartbeats, he nodded carefully and sampled his beer.
‘And I’m not just talking about his football skills,’ said Mel. ‘Nick’s been amazing, the way he’s handled this whole business with his kidneys. He never whinges or talks about it. Just gets on with his life.’
Emotion tied painful knots in Gus’s throat and he was suddenly unable to speak.
Mel eyed him shrewdly. ‘Shut me up if I'm speaking out of turn, mate, but I reckon maybe Nick’s a chip off the old block.’
Something inside Gus struck hard, as if his heart had sounded a gong. ‘Which old block would that be, Mel?’
Momentarily, Mel was taken aback, but he recovered quickly and shrugged. ‘The one sitting right in front of me, perhaps?’
There was no point in trying to deny the truth. Gus let out his breath slowly. ‘I suppose the whole Bay knows by now?’
‘Well, maybe not the whole Bay.’ Mel sent him a cautiously crooked smile. ‘Three-quarters maybe, but not everyone.’
‘Which means that almost the entire population of Sugar Bay found out I’m Nick’s father just a day or two after I did.’ Gus scowled as the anger and hurt he’d almost laid to rest blasted back with a vengeance.
‘You were in the dark? You’re joking.’ Mel grimaced uncomfortably. He took a swig of beer. ‘That’s rough.’ Then another swig. When he set the glass down, he regarded Gus thoughtfully. ‘You mean to say Freya never told you she was pregnant?’
‘I had no idea,’ Gus said coldly. Damn it, he thought he’d come to grips with the years of secrecy, but talking about it to Mel ripped the wound wide open.
Mel shook his head. ‘That’s a shocker. At the end of high school we all thought you and Freya were the couple most likely to—’
‘Likely to what?’
Mel grimaced. ‘I don’t know—get together and stay together, I guess.’
Gus gritted his teeth so fiercely he was surprised they didn’t crack. He knew it was true. Back in that summer between the end of high school and leaving Sugar Bay, he and Freya had been infatuated with each other, inseparable.
Looking back, he found it almost impossible to pinpoint how and when he’d changed, but it must have started almost as soon as he left for Brisbane. How else, after six short weeks, had he been able to let her go so easily?
Eighteen was such an impressionable, fickle age.
But was that an excuse?
The worst of it was that he’d changed so fast and so radically he’d frightened Freya off. But he wasn’t about to confess to Mel Crane that she’d actually tried to tell him about their baby.
‘I know it’s not really any of my business,’ Mel said, watching Gus carefully. ‘But, for what it’s worth, no one around here knew who Nick’s father was. One or two thought it might have been you, but Freya and Poppy went away up north for a few months. Freya was pregnant when she came back, and she was very close-lipped about the circumstances.’
‘I guess Poppy took her away to muddy the waters,’ Gus said moodily.
‘I guess.’ Mel thought about this for a bit, then brightened. ‘I can tell you one thing, Gus—Freya’s done a great job with that boy. A fantastic job.’ Mel shrugged. ‘As a footie coach, I’ve seen every kind of family. In my teams there are kids with no mum, no dad, parents who never turn up to watch their kids play, other parents who scream at their kids and yell abuse at the ref.’
Mel eyed Gus steadily over the rim of his glass. ‘There’s no argument. You would have been a huge bonus in Nick’s life. But, putting that aside, the simple fact is Freya’s done a great job. Heck, she let the boy play a game she doesn’t even like, and I really respect th
at. I’m sure she’d rather he played tennis.’
Gus smiled in wry acknowledgement of this.
‘Shelley really likes Freya,’ Mel went on. ‘So do her married friends, and that’s saying something. I’ve seen other good-looking single women who bring out the claws of the married ones, but everyone here likes Freya.’
Still staring moodily into his drink, Gus said, ‘What surprises me is that she hasn’t married.’
‘Too right. And it’s not for lack of opportunity. Nearly every bachelor in the district has set his cap at her.’
Mel started to chuckle, then seemed to think better of it. His face sobered. ‘So, mate, what’s the story with Nick? Is he going to be OK?’
‘That’s the plan. I’m certainly hoping he’ll be absolutely fine.’
‘With the help of a kidney from you?’
‘Yeah. We’re still waiting to hear if I’m a suitable match.’ As Gus said that, his mobile phone began to buzz in his pocket. ‘Excuse me.’ His chest tightened as he retrieved it and saw the number. ‘Bit of a coincidence. This is from the renal physician’s office. I’ll take it outside.’
Gus’s heartbeats were thundering as he hurried quickly from the bar. ‘Hello?’
‘Mr Wilder? I have a message from Dr Kingston.’
Thud. ‘Yes?’
‘He has the results back from the blood and tissue cross-matching, and he’d like you to make an appointment to see him.’
‘Yes, sure. When?’
‘As soon as possible. Is there any chance you could be in Brisbane by tomorrow morning?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Great. We can fit you in at eleven.’
A week later, Gus made the journey to Brisbane again, this time with Freya and Nick. During the entire trip down the highway Freya’s stomach churned as she swung through a spectrum of emotions from hope and excitement to fear and abject terror.
The past week had been such a whirlwind of preparations ever since they heard that Gus was a perfect match for Nick. His blood type, his tissue samples, the state of his kidneys, his heart, his lungs and his mind made him a perfect live donor. If everything went well, Nick could live to a healthy old age.
But if it didn’t…
Freya couldn’t bear to think of failure, couldn’t let her imagination go there. And yet, no amount of level-headedness could hold off the knife-edge of panic.
Now she wasn’t only worried about Nick. She was worried about Gus, too. The procedure should be straightforward but in any operation there was always a risk.
Two people she loved were facing possible danger…
‘Don’t look so glum,’ Gus told her when they stopped for a cuppa at a roadside café.
‘Sorry.’ For Nick’s sake, she knew she had to be totally optimistic and excited.
As they stood at the counter placing their orders—tea, a long black and a strawberry milkshake—Gus leaned close and whispered in Freya’s ear, ‘It’s going to be OK.’
She looked up, saw the warmth and confidence in his eyes and her heart took wings. When Gus pressed a warm kiss on her cheek, she longed to let her eyes drift closed and to lean into his strength.
Perhaps if Nick hadn’t been watching them so closely she might have done exactly that.
In Brisbane they stayed in adjacent suites in a hotel close to the hospital. Gus insisted on paying for their accommodation and he wouldn’t listen to Freya’s protests. ‘So far, I haven’t contributed a cent to Nick’s upkeep,’ he said.
Their appointment with Dr Lee, the transplant coordinator, was for three o’clock. As they sat in the waiting room, Nick read a comic that Freya had bought him—one of his favourite space adventures—while she flicked through a celebrity gossip magazine without seeing anything on the pages.
Gus reached for her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze and she answered with a brave smile. His touch had the power to make her feel hopeful and she would have liked to keep holding his hand.
At last they went inside. Dr Lee greeted them warmly, then took them through what would happen over the next few days. Tomorrow, they were to arrive at the hospital early for a final day-long evaluation of Nick that would include more blood tests and an ECG. The medical team would do a final cross-match to make sure Nick could still receive Gus’s kidney. And Nick would begin taking drugs to prevent his body from rejecting the new kidney.
The doctor took them calmly through every step of the procedures, making the transplant sound very routine and unthreatening. Freya stole glances at Gus and Nick, caught them exchanging fond, almost excited smiles, and her heart filled to overflowing with love for both of them, and with pride and admiration, too. They were both so strong. They were her heroes. For their sakes, she resolved to remain calm and optimistic.
It was, after all, the only way to get through the next few days.
After the journey and the appointments and a meal at Nick’s favourite pasta and pizza place, the boy was ready for bed quite early. Neither Freya nor Gus was sleepy though, so they sat on the balcony outside Freya’s hotel suite, looking at the city lights and talking.
Mostly they talked about Nick.
Freya filled in details, giving Gus a potted history of their son’s milestones—when he’d crawled and learned to walk, and how he’d skinned his knee trying to fly off Poppy’s top step. She told him about the time, when Nick was three, that he’d wandered away from home, and how terrified she’d been until she’d found him at the shop around the corner.
‘He’d found ten cents and he was trying to buy fish food,’ she said, smiling at the memory. ‘He wanted to feed the little fish he’d seen swimming in the shallows.’
They both chuckled over that, and it was all kinds of wonderful for Freya to sit with Gus while their son slept in a room nearby. She could almost pretend they’d been doing this for years. And what a seductive picture that was—to imagine that she and Gus were conventional parents, happily living under one roof, an intact family.
For a reckless moment she let her mind elaborate on the fantasy. She saw herself sharing meals with Gus, saw them curled on a sofa enjoying glasses of wine, sharing the same bed.
Oh, God. She was sure her face was glowing bright red. What a fool she was.
But she was so happy for Nick that his father had come into his life. The man was handsome and friendly and thoughtful and generally wonderful. Over and above that, he was making a huge sacrifice. It was no wonder the boy adored and worshipped him.
If only…
No…it was pointless to wish she’d made different decisions in the past. They had felt right at the time and it was a useless exercise to keep going back over them and wondering…
‘Nick talked to me about your father,’ Gus said, suddenly breaking into Freya’s thoughts. ‘You’re right. That old con man has shaken the boy’s faith.’
‘That was such a terrible Christmas.’ She shook her head, remembering. ‘Poor Nick. He was singing in the Nippers’ choir at Carols by Candlelight and he thought his grandfather was out in the crowd, watching and listening. But that was actually when Sean took off. During the carols. It was such a dirty trick.’
‘He’s still worried I’m going to disappear, too.’
‘I’ve tried to reassure him.’
‘So have I. I told him I have to go back to the Northern Territory once this is over, but I plan to keep seeing him on a regular basis. I mean it, Freya. I’ll stay in touch. And I’ll come back as often as I can.’
Her soft whoosh of relief was barely audible, thank heavens. She knew there was no point in feeling too happy just because Gus promised to stay in touch. It was Nick he wanted to visit. He might even want to take Nick away with him from time to time and she would have to get used to waving them goodbye.
Those thoughts made her unnecessarily gloomy, so she forced herself to smile. ‘Nick told me you’ll have to keep coming back to make sure he’s looking after your kidney properly.’
‘Yeah.’ Gus tried
to laugh, but the sound was strangled. He cleared his throat. ‘He’s such a brave little guy.’ His face softened and he looked away into the distance, then let out a heavy sigh.
‘Actually,’ he said quietly, ‘I took the opportunity to tell Nick that he has more than one grandfather.’
‘Oh…well…yes.’ Freya winced as her guilty conscience gave a nasty jab in her solar plexus. ‘I’m sorry, Gus. I should have asked before. How are your parents?’
‘They’re both very well, thank you. They live in Perth these days. My sister moved over there when she married, and she has a baby now. Mum couldn’t bear to be living on the opposite coast from her grandchild.’
For the first time in too long, Freya recalled Gus’s conservative middle-class parents. When they’d lived in Sugar Bay, Gus’s father had been the town’s most influential and hard-nosed bank manager. He and his wife had never mixed with the hippie commune at the far end of the Bay.
Bill and Deirdre Wilder had always found it very hard to hide their disapproval of Freya but, to give them their due, they’d behaved no more coldly towards her than Poppy had towards Gus.
‘Have you told your parents about Nick?’
Gus nodded. ‘I rang them two days ago.’
‘That must have been hard.’
‘It wasn’t the easiest phone call I’ve made.’
Freya looked down at her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. There was no condemnation in Gus’s voice, but she couldn’t help thinking that here were more people hurt by her secrecy. ‘Were they shocked?’
‘Of course. Shocked and concerned.’ Shooting her a bright sideways glance, he said, ‘They’d like to fly over here to see Nick.’
‘That would be lovely.’ She forced her hands to relax. ‘So I take it they’ve recovered from their shock?’
‘Yes, and with surprising speed. Mum rang straight back to assure me.’
Freya wasn’t proud of the way her heart sank, but the thought of dealing with Gus’s parents on top of everything else was rather daunting. She hunted for a nice safe direction to steer their conversation but, to her surprise, Gus frowned suddenly and his jaw jutted as if he was preparing to confront her.
A Miracle for His Secret Son Page 10