Freya half-expected Gus to release her now the wheelchair threat was gone, but he tucked her arm more tightly beneath his and when he smiled at her his eyes smouldered sexily.
Deep down, she was totally, over-the-top thrilled by this simple contact, but she was also scared and on edge. Now that the transplant was behind them, she had no idea where their relationship stood. She wasn’t even sure they had a relationship and she didn’t want to start hoping, only to be disappointed.
But poor Gus could hardly be expected to think about romance after everything he’d been through. He looked pale and exhausted by the time they reached his room.
‘You need to rest now,’ Freya said after she’d helped him back onto the bed and given him a drink from the water jug.
‘I’m fine.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Please, don’t rush away. I’ve hardly seen you and we need to talk.’ He patted a space on the bed beside him. ‘Sit here.’
Time alone with Gus was like discovering gold, so of course Freya sat, even though she was sure he really needed to rest. Her heartbeats went haywire as she wondered what he wanted to talk about. The other night, after they’d made love, they’d talked about his marriage but they hadn’t talked about their own relationship, past, present or future.
Of course, they talked about Nick—quietly relieved that the worst was behind them.
Gus’s fingers touched the back of her hand. ‘You know I’m going to miss you.’
Freya wasn’t sure if she was pleased that he would miss her, or sorry that he was already thinking ahead to when he would leave for the Northern Territory.
‘You won’t be heading off for a while yet, will you?’
‘I’m hoping to get away next week.’
‘So soon?’
‘The doctors aren’t thrilled about it, and if my parents had their way I’d spend another week at the Gold Coast with them. But I’m confident I’ll be fine, and I need to get back.’
Freya nodded, tried to smile.
‘The people up there are trusting me,’ he said. ‘Politicians have let them down in the past, but I’m determined to keep my word. We can’t afford any more delays, and we have to get the work completed before the start of the wet season.’
It made perfect sense, of course. From the start, Freya had known she was dragging Gus away from important work, and he’d already given her so-o-o-o much. She had no right to be disappointed.
‘Nick and I will have to stay here in Brisbane for a few more weeks,’ she said. ‘Even after Nick gets out of hospital, he has to have daily blood tests to check for rejection.’
‘He wouldn’t dare to reject my kidney.’
‘Oh, God, I hope not.’
Gently, Gus smiled and he touched her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Floss.’
Floss. Her old nickname. Freya loved that he remembered. His hand cupped her face and she felt a warm rush of happiness. All it took was Gus’s smile and his touch and her heart was flying. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his palm.
‘To be honest, I’ve had enough of worrying,’ she said. ‘From now on I’m going to have perfect faith that your wonderful gift will keep Nick well for ever.’
‘Absolutely.’ His thumb roamed lazily over her skin. ‘I’ve promised Nick I’ll stay in touch.’
‘That will mean a lot to him.’
‘And, with luck, this job should be finished by Christmas.’
Six weeks away. Even though Freya knew the time would fly, it still felt such a long time to wait. And there was no guarantee that Gus would come rushing straight to the Bay as soon as he was free. ‘I guess your family will expect you to spend Christmas with them.’ She tried not to sound downhearted.
‘They might.’ Gus’s fingers traced the shape of her ear lobe now. ‘But I might have to disappoint them. A very important member of my family lives in Sugar Bay.’
He was talking about Nick, of course.
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t get Nick’s hopes up about Christmas,’ Freya said quietly. ‘Just in case you can’t make it.’
‘You’re worried I’ll disappoint him, the way your father did.’
‘We certainly wouldn’t want another Christmas disaster.’
‘I promise I won’t let the boy down, Freya.’ Gus slipped his hand behind her neck and his fingers rubbed her nape. ‘And I won’t let you down.’
What did that mean, exactly?
Before Freya could work out the best way to ask Gus, he drew her face closer to his. She saw the mix of passion and tenderness in his eyes and her heart began to dance.
Gus gave her a rueful smile. ‘Come closer,’ he murmured. ‘I want to kiss you and I can’t unless you lean in.’
‘Are your ribs hurting?’
‘A bit.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t excite yourself,’ she said, even though she leaned closer and her blood began to fizz.
‘Maybe a little excitement is just what the doctor ordered.’
Their noses were almost touching. Their lips brushed. Freya’s body shot sparks. ‘And why should I let you kiss me?’ she whispered, partly to tease him and partly because she really needed to know.
‘Good heavens!’ a woman’s voice shrilled from behind them. ‘Gus will open up his stitches. What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
Freya flinched and she heard Gus’s groan. His mother stormed into the room like a battleship with cannons blazing.
Freya wanted to echo Gus’s groan. Now she’d confirmed Deirdre Wilder’s worst fear that she was a brazen hussy, intent on seducing Gus over to the Dark Side.
‘I can’t believe—’ Deirdre began.
‘Mum, please, you’ve said quite enough. We’re not children.’
Gus’s air of cool command clearly surprised his mother. Her self-righteous lips flapped for a beat or two, then snapped unhappily closed.
Taking her cue from Gus, Freya threw off the feeling that she’d been caught in flagrante delicto, and she rose from the bed with perfect dignity. She caught Gus’s eye, read his flash of apology.
‘As I was saying,’ she told Gus, ‘you really do need to rest.’
‘Don’t worry, I plan to.’
Freya smiled. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’ She smiled at his mother and said, ever so politely, ‘Good morning, Mrs Wilder.’
When there was no response, she slipped quietly from the room.
Once outside, she allowed herself to recall every detail of her precious moments with Gus, right to the breathtaking second before he almost kissed her.
Her face broke into a smile and she gave a little skip, happier than she’d been in months.
Gus eyed his mother squarely. ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t go on like this, Mum. Do you realise how over the top you were then?’
‘I was only worrying about you. Freya’s worried about Nick. I’m worried about you.’
He nodded. ‘I appreciate that, but there was more to it than that. You’ve still got a problem with Freya and Poppy, haven’t you?’
‘A problem with their lifestyle.’ Deirdre’s shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. ‘It’s always been so different. So casual.’
‘But you have to admit Nick’s a wonderful boy,’ Gus said. ‘I’m proud to be his father.’
‘Oh, yes, dear. You’re quite right. He’s adorable.’
‘Well behaved,’ Gus added. ‘Thoughtful and courageous.’
‘Of course.’
‘And you have to remember that he didn’t get to be like that on his own, and yet we had nothing to do with his upbringing.’
Deirdre opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then shut it as she changed her mind.
‘If Nick’s turned out well, it’s thanks to Freya and Poppy,’ Gus said. ‘I think Freya’s done a remarkable job, and I’d really like you to ease off on her.’
Looking distinctly abashed, Deirdre nodded her silent agreement.
Satisfied, Gus closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over
him. He began to drift towards sleep, thinking about Freya and Nick and Poppy, about what an effective unit they were. He wondered how exactly he could fit into that picture.
But the big question was—should he revisit that territory? What if he tried to get back with Freya and it didn’t work? Wouldn’t that make things worse for Nick? It was a big risk. Dared he take it?
Weariness overcame him before he found any answers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SIX weeks was a very long time.
After twelve years of separation from Freya, six weeks should have felt like a blink of an eye, but Gus had never been more impatient for the hours, days and weeks to fly.
Instead, time crawled with tedious, excruciating slowness.
Sure, the Arnhem Land project was still very interesting and important to him, but now there were two people who were so dear to his heart he hated the separation. Just the same, he’d already stolen weeks from the project and he needed to complete it before the wet season began, so he couldn’t take more time off. As it was, he was working round the clock to have everything finished in time.
Nick was constantly on his mind. In a strange twist of fate, Gus now felt as if he was linked to his son more closely than most fathers could ever be. He delighted in every phone call and email as the boy continued on his road to full recovery.
As for Freya…
Gus spent far too much time thinking about Freya.
Number one in his thoughts was the amazing night they’d spent together. Over and over he replayed every precious moment. He would start with the dinner, recalling each shared glance across the table, each smile.
He’d remember how he and Freya had walked close beside the river, remember the longing, the electricity, the overpowering desire that consumed him. Then, later, the unreasoning joy of discovery—her longing matching his. Then the kisses, the caresses, the soft, sweet sighs of pleasure. The marvellous, passionate intimacy.
Their night had been so perfect, as sweet as when they were young, yet so much more powerful and poignant after the long, lonely journeys they’d both travelled.
There were other memories, too. So many wonderful memories of Freya, from the time he’d first seen her in Darwin till their damp-eyed farewell at Brisbane airport.
‘I’ll be back before Christmas,’ he’d told her as he stole yet another last-minute kiss goodbye. ‘And I’ll make sure I’m back in plenty of time, so Nick won’t have to worry.’
Despite the pressure of work, Gus was more determined than ever to keep his promise. He loved Nick. Loved Freya. Loved her with the deep, unavoidable, heart-grabbing certainty that had evaded him in his marriage.
He wasn’t going to let her go a second time.
For most of November Freya was upbeat and optimistic. Nick was growing stronger every day and whenever Gus phoned or sent her an email, he was warm and affectionate and flirtatious and she was quite sure her most dearly cherished dreams were about to come true.
She just wished the time could pass more quickly. She wouldn’t be completely at peace and happy until she saw Gus again and could look into his eyes and know she wasn’t building up false hopes.
There were still black moments of doubt, especially when she lay in bed in the wee small hours and remembered that other time she’d been separated from Gus for six weeks and how much he’d changed in that time.
Could it happen again?
She told herself no. But she wished she could be absolutely sure. In reality, she was basing all her romantic hopes on the flimsiest of foundations—a few days in Brisbane when their emotions were running high and when nothing beyond the hospital had seemed real.
Had she been foolish to imagine that Gus cared for her deeply in the same way that she cared for him? If she really examined their recent relationship, there had only been a single evening of romance. One night of lovemaking between two consenting adults, who’d had a previous relationship, then turned to each other in a moment of huge emotional need.
Her past history with Gus hardly counted so, except for that one night, their shared love of Nick was their only point of connection. On that basis, could they really hope for a future together?
Their lifestyles were poles apart. Gus couldn’t be expected to settle back into the quiet life of sleepy Sugar Bay, and he wouldn’t want a woman and a boy trailing after him as he continued his important work in the world’s remote outposts.
Although she knew all of this, Freya clung blindly to a vain hope. Those stolen moments with Gus had been so special. Memories of his electrifying touch, of his kisses, his voice, his smile…haunted her day and night.
She hadn’t imagined the deeper meaning of those moments, had she?
If only she could be sure. If only it was Christmas already.
Gus scowled at the radar map on his computer screen. A huge low pressure system was moving across from the Indian Ocean and was about to dump its load on Australia’s Top End.
Already, the sky was thick with cloud and the air was heavy and dense, making everyone’s clothing stick to their skin. The smell of rain was in the air. It wouldn’t be long before it arrived.
Damn.
The small plane destined to take him out of here wasn’t due for another day, but once the rain arrived, the dirt airstrip here could be transformed in a matter of hours into a dangerously slippery mudslide. It would be impossible to land.
Gus had put through call after call, trying to locate a spare plane that could come sooner, but so far he’d had no luck.
He wondered if he should call Freya to warn her that he mightn’t get away for Christmas after all.
Hell, no. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t do it to Nick. He would find a way to get out of here, and there was no point in putting them through unnecessary worry.
Standing at the window, he watched the dark clouds roll in. If he started off now in the truck, he might reach the nearest all-weather airport in a day. He’d probably be racing against rising creek waters, but he’d get there.
He had to.
‘I’m not wearing these stupid antlers. They’re dumb as!’ Nick sent the red velvet and pasteboard headpiece flying across the room.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Freya cried as she watched the antlers smash into the opposite wall. ‘What’s got into you, Nick? Pick them up right now.’
‘Why should I?’ Arms folded, Nick glowered at his mother. ‘I don’t need them. I’m not going to dumb old Carols by Candlelight. The songs are stupid and I hate Christmas.’
‘I know you don’t mean that.’
‘I do.’
The boy was on the edge of tears, but he was fighting them valiantly and Freya’s heart ached for him. It was such a disappointment to see him unhappy when he’d been doing so well. All the post-surgery worry and danger was behind Nick now and, apart from not being allowed to play football and the need for regular checks with their local GP, his life was miraculously back to normal. He’d been so looking forward to Christmas.
Damn Gus Wilder and his broken promises!
Freya wanted to throw something too—something that made a loud and satisfying smash. How could Gus do this to them after all his assurances?
Not that she could let Nick get away with such bad behaviour. Suppressing a sigh, she eyed her son. ‘You asked me to buy those antlers and I paid good money for them, so the least you can do is pick them up.’
Her quiet, firm manner did the trick. Reluctantly, Nick collected the headpiece from the corner, but he showed no remorse as he fingered a broken antler prong.
‘Bring it into the kitchen,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to try to fix it with sticky tape.’
‘What’s the point of fixing it?’
She didn’t bother to answer. She knew how fragile Nick’s emotions were right now.
The timing for Gus’s failure to show couldn’t have been worse. The last few years, Nick always got tense the week before Christmas and, for him, Carols by Candlelight brought back the bi
tterest of memories. He’d been singing carols down on the beach with the Sugar Bay junior lifesavers on the night his grandfather had stolen away.
This year was going to be so much worse. Nick had been worked up for weeks and over the moon with excitement and anticipation because Gus was coming to the Bay. Gus had even named an arrival date a full week before Christmas.
Now they were four days past that date and there’d been no apology or explanation for Gus’s no-show. Nick was devastated. Freya was furious.
And hurt.
And confused and disappointed.
With a heavy sigh, she looked across the room to their Christmas tree. She and Nick had scoured the seashore, searching for perfect branches of driftwood. They’d had so much fun and they’d come home, happy and excited, to arrange the silvery branches in a bucket of sand.
Then they’d hung tinsel and lights and Freya’s delicate handmade ornaments alongside a variety of crude but cute Santas and angels that Nick had constructed over the years—a virtual record of every Christmas since he’d started kindergarten.
Beneath their tree, there now sat a red and green striped package with ‘Dad’ written on the tag in Nick’s clear handwriting. It was a book on the history of vampire legends for Gus. Nick was so proud of himself for tracking it down on the Internet.
And while Freya had tried to hide her excitement about Gus’s return, she’d been as pumped as Nick, maybe more so. She’d been to the hairdresser’s for glamorous streaks, and she’d had her legs waxed and her eyelashes tinted. She’d invested in new clothes in the hottest styles, including a slinky, summery dress and divinely sexy heels.
All to impress Gus Wilder.
But now she had to admit she’d been foolish.
She hadn’t the heart to force Nick to go to the carols. The choir would manage without her boy. He could barely hold a tune anyway, not that it mattered. He sang with gusto and the night was all about community spirit rather than choral excellence.
A Miracle for His Secret Son Page 15