by Joan Kilby
“Well, if the papaya won’t bear fruit in this location, what have we got to lose?”
“That’s what I think, but I don’t like to jeopardize a mature plant unless the owner is aware of the risk.”
Will racked his brain, but he couldn’t think of another thing to say about the papaya tree.
Abruptly, Maeve started to walk back. He followed. When they were out in the open again, he noticed she put a good three feet between them.
“How’s Ida?” she asked.
“Fine. In fact, she’s—” He broke off before he could say, she’s pregnant. His sisters never told anyone they were expecting until they’d successfully passed the first trimester. They might simply be superstitious. Then again, there might be good reason for caution. Maeve was waiting for him to finish his thought, so he told her lamely, “She’s just fine.”
She gave him one of her lingering, penetrating looks. “She mentioned you and she went to university together, and that you were her date for the graduation ball. Took you two a long time to decide you were in love.”
He shrugged. “What is love?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Sure. I just meant…” He trailed off, not sure what he’d meant. “Bloody hot again today,” he muttered, turning his gaze to the cloudless sky.
“You never told me much about your father,” she said.
“My father! What makes you ask about him?”
“The lilacs made me think of him.” An enigmatic smile curled her lips for a moment. Then she sobered. “I think you said he died when you were a child.”
“He had a heart attack when he was sixty-five.” He didn’t want to talk about his father. He had too many conflicting feelings where William Sr. was concerned. Reluctantly, he added, “I was ten years old.”
“He must have been quite a bit older than your mother.” Maeve’s low, slightly husky voice seemed to draw information out of him.
“There was a twenty-two-year gap between them. She married him right out of high school. Never got an education or any kind of training.”
“They must have been very much in love.”
Will snorted. “She married him for security. Her father was verbally abusive and she wanted to escape. Mum and Dad liked each other, though. They made a good partnership. That was enough.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked mildly.
“It was for them.” Even as he said it, anger rose in him, born of lifelong resentment toward a man who’d left marriage too late to be a father to his young family. “He saddled her with four kids and no means of support.”
“What did she do?”
He shrugged and kicked at a stone lying in the grass. “We moved into Mornington, and she took a job waiting tables.”
“That’s when you started to miss the space and freedom of the farm.”
A sigh escaped his lungs. “I don’t know why it should matter after all these years—now I’d rather live by the sea than out in the country—but somehow it does.”
“‘The child is the father of the man,”’ she quoted. “No matter what changes we go through in our lives, deep inside a part of us longs to return to the world of our childhood. It may not have been perfect, but it was where we awakened to ourselves.” She stopped and turned to look at him directly. “In your garden I want to recreate the essence of the childhood memories you carry in your heart.”
Her words touched him someplace deep inside that he hadn’t even known existed. Unable to speak, he could only stare into her warm dark eyes, absorbing the fact that she understood him at some level that seemed impossible for a near stranger. She was half Amazon, half witch.
She smiled suddenly, as if to reassure him she was perfectly normal. “Your brother and sisters—where do they live?” she asked, walking on. “Are you close?”
“My brother and one sister live in Sydney. My other sister, Julie, lives in Melbourne. We’re pretty close, although we’re all so busy with our own lives, we don’t see one another often enough. Julie and Mike just had a new baby—a girl.” His voice became gruff as he recalled the special moments he’d shared with little Caelyn.
He would have told Maeve more about his nieces and nephews, but she suddenly became interested in the instructions on the back of a seed packet she’d pulled from one of her pockets.
At any rate, they’d arrived back at the workshop. “Come in,” Will said. “I want to show you something.”
She hesitated, then followed him into the dim coolness of the bungalow. Will flicked on the lights, illuminating the flat rectangle of metal and glass that took up half the workbench.
“Is that my solar panel?” She was indignant, but curious, too.
“I’ve got an idea about how to increase the efficiency and store more energy,” Will said. “I went by your house to talk to Art about it, and he let me take the panel to work on it.”
“He shouldn’t have done that, but since he did…what’s your idea?”
Will gestured to the black box attached to the solar panel. “I plan to increase the voltaic output with a multiplier that will change the basic structure of the panel to allow a more rapid flow of electrons.”
He glanced at her face for signs of boredom. Usually when he got technical, women tuned out; or, if they wanted to impress, took on that glazed “how very interesting” look. Ida would have grinned and told him to can it. Maeve’s expression as she bent over the solar panel was serious and absorbed.
Then her expression turned to awe as she grasped the full implications of his proposed invention. “That would revolutionize the solar panel industry!”
“Quite possibly,” he admitted modestly.
“Won’t you also need to use a bigger battery?” she asked, turning back to the panel. “If the panel’s not self-regulating, you risk overcharging and damaging the battery, right?”
“Exactly,” he said, enthused by her interest. She not only understood what he was getting at but wanted to know more. “I thought your field was botany.”
“I took basic physics as part of my science degree. Then, for a while I was interested in the structure of plant tissue and its influence on physiology so I took a course in biophysics. That was before I decided I’d rather spend my time outdoors than in a lab.”
An Amazon, a witch and a scientist.
“It’s nice to talk to someone with a science background—” she said, adding with a warm chuckle, “someone who doesn’t regard you as a nerd.”
“I know what you mean.” He met her eyes and smile. Suddenly it seemed to Will that the electrons lying dormant in the solar panel had jumped free and were spinning in orbit around Maeve and him. The magnetic electric current thus created locked his gaze to hers.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel between the driveway and the bungalow. A cheery voice called, “Hi, there! What’s going on?”
Ida. Will started guiltily.
Maeve drew back abruptly, her cheeks dusky rose. “Will was just explaining his plans to modify the solar panel.”
Ida’s alert eyes moved between Maeve and Will. “You mustn’t let him bore you with that stuff. He’ll go on for hours about electronics if you allow him to.”
“It’s not boring,” Maeve replied. “If his idea works, it’ll be a boon for my experiment in hydroponic herb production.”
“Oh, he’s doing it for you. That’s different.” Ida’s tone suggested different was not better. Worse, in fact.
“He’s doing it for my father, really,” Maeve said. “Guilty conscience.”
“I’ll bet,” Ida said dryly.
Will winced and moved away from the solar panel, not daring to look at Maeve. “How are you feeling, Ida?”
“Fine.” She glanced at her watch. “Have you forgotten?”
The ultrasound! “No, of course not. I, uh, Maeve, you’ll have to excuse me. Ida and I have to…” He floundered.
“We have an appointment at the doctor’s for an ultrasound.” Ida pressed a hand a
gainst her abdomen and smiled beatifically. “We’re having a baby.”
A cold chill spread through Maeve’s limbs. Will was going to be a father. The expression on his face told her how much that meant to him.
He was unavailable—if the notion hadn’t sunk in before, it did now, with the battering force of a pile driver. Even if Ida didn’t exist, Maeve could never give him what he wanted. What he needed.
Although she told herself she’d had no expectations, she felt as though something had been stolen from her. Love. The possibility of healing.
“Congratulations!” she said to Ida. “That’s wonderful.”
She turned to Will and forced herself to meet his eyes, sending a silent message: whatever happened just now must never happen again.
He nodded as if he understood. Then he put his arm around Ida. “We’ll see you later, Maeve.”
DR. NOVITSKY, a petit, gray-haired woman with a faint Polish accent, moved the pointer around on the ultrasound screen. “Here is the back…and this is the stomach…toes…heart.”
“The heart is beating so fast,” Ida commented.
Fascinated, Will tried to count the beats. This was a real live baby. A tiny person depending on him and Ida. The thought was humbling. And exhilarating. He looked from the screen to Ida. Her expression was rapt, a reflection of his own mixture of awe and excitement.
“A fetus’s heart beats faster than an adult’s. Nothing’s wrong,” the doctor assured them.
“Can you tell the sex?” Will asked.
Dr. Novitsky pushed the gel around Ida’s flat belly with the ultrasound probe. With her other hand she set the dials on the instrument and clicked to record a photo. “Are you sure you want to know?” she enquired with a smile.
Will glanced at Ida with a shrug. “I don’t care what it is,” he said. “But if you want to know…”
She reached for his hand. “I’m happy to be surprised.” She asked the doctor, “Does it have all its fingers and toes?”
“There’s no evidence of spinal abnormalities,” the doctor replied, interpreting her question as concern over more than the number of digits.
Will hadn’t even considered that possibility, but the news was a relief nonetheless. Enthralled by the underwater movements of the fetus, he could have watched all day, but once the doctor had taken the necessary measurements, she ended the session.
He and Ida emerged from the air-conditioned consulting room into the blazing afternoon sun, Ida carrying the blurry gray-and-white image of their unborn baby as reverently as she might a masterpiece. Will had been excited at the thought of a baby before, but nothing had prepared him for how pumped he felt now. The pregnancy was suddenly real to him. His role as a father had begun.
“This weekend I’ll start fixing up one of the spare bedrooms for a nursery,” he said, as they walked back to the parking lot.
“We’ll have to go shopping for baby things,” Ida told him enthusiastically. “We’ll need a crib and a car seat—”
“And a globe of the world,” Will interjected. “She could grow up to be a scientist.”
“A high chair and a pram—”
“I’ll start an education fund for her right away.”
“A bassinet and a playpen…”
“A bank account in her name, with savings bonds.”
“Bath toys…”
“We’ll subscribe to Australian Geographic.”
“Will, be serious,” Ida laughed.
“I am,” he replied, indignant. “I’m thinking ahead.”
Arm in arm, they continued, Ida with a skip in her step. “What shall we call him?” Ida said.
“You mean her, don’t you?” he answered with a grin.
“I like Miranda for a girl and Jason for a boy. Or would you like to name him William?”
“Maybe you should call him Richard.”
Ida stopped dead, the joy draining from her expression. “Are you going to throw Rick in my face for the rest of our lives? Because if you are—”
“No.” Will clutched her shoulders, aghast to see tears spring to her eyes. “I just thought you might want to remember him.”
“He’s not dead, and I’m not raising a monument to our so-called love affair,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care if I never hear his name again. And I definitely don’t want my baby named after him.”
Will pulled her into his arms, hating to see his friend hurting. Ida’s chest rose and fell on a deep sigh. “She’s really beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Who?” he asked, bewildered by the abrupt change of subject.
“Maeve. You’re attracted to her, aren’t you?”
“No! Okay, maybe a little.”
“A lot. I could tell.” Ida sighed again and pulled away. “And she’s attracted to you.”
“No.” He was firmer on that. Had to be.
“She planted Sweet William in your urns, for crying out loud. It’s not too late to back out, Will. I don’t want to hold you to anything you don’t want to do.”
“Don’t talk like that, Ida. I’m not backing out. I want this baby. I want us to be a family. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad earlier this afternoon.”
“You couldn’t help it. There’s no romance between us—there never has been. It’s just that sometimes I wish…”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?” he said, squeezing her hand.
“Okay.” Swinging her shoulder bag over to her other arm, she said, “I guess I’ll pick up some files from the office and head home. Are you going back to the factory?”
“I think I’ll catch a few waves.”
MAEVE PARKED her utility truck on Birdwood Avenue in Melbourne and walked through the main gate of the Royal Botanical Gardens. Tall, broad-limbed trees from around the world shaded vast lawns, and a web of footpaths wound through the park and around the ornamental lake. Maeve took the path to the far side of the park, where the Plant Craft Cottage nestled into the verdant slope.
“Rose?” Maeve called, stepping through the open door. Receiving no answer, she moved farther into the cottage, past the small library and the gift shop to the workrooms at the back.
As well as volunteering at the cottage and growing hydroponic herbs, Rose was an avid amateur collector of tropical cacti. So when Maeve had wanted a special plant for Will’s moonlight garden, she had come to Rose.
Rose was bent over a drafting table, working on a botanical watercolor of flowering chives. At the sound of Maeve’s footsteps, she glanced up and pushed back wisps of silver-blond hair from her finely lined face. “Hello, darl’.”
“Hi, Rose,” Maeve said, entering the room. “How is your new series coming along?”
Rose shook out her cramped fingers. “The cottage curator wants to make framed prints for sale in the shop, as well as the usual greeting cards.”
Maeve inspected her friend’s delicately beautiful and scientifically accurate composition. “It’s lovely. Will you save me one?”
“Of course. Take your pick when they’re done.” Rose rinsed her brush in clean water and set it aside. Her loose cotton floral dress swirled around her bare ankles as she swiveled to face Maeve. “What brings you out on a working day?”
Maeve hitched herself onto one of the stools that lined the workbench. “I’m making a moonlight garden for a client. I’ve got a good collection of scented white and blue flowers. Now I’m looking for a mature Selenicereus grandiflorus. Do you know where I can get one?”
“Ah, the Queen of the Night. A rare plant and a favorite of yours.” She arched her eyebrows shrewdly. “I take it this isn’t a common or garden-variety client but a special one?”
Maeve was appalled to find herself blushing. “Yes, although I’m not sure why I’m going to so much bother. He’s my father’s boss and he’s closing the factory where Dad works.”
“But he’s special,” Rose persisted.
Ma
eve got off her stool to move around the room, her gaze roving over tools and bits of plant material on the benches. “He’s…complicated. Charming. Clever. He’s figured out a way to boost the energy output of the solar panel so I can continue with my experiment on your herb production.”
“I like him already.” Rose tilted her head. “Are you interested in this man?”
“No,” Maeve said firmly. “He’s engaged to a really nice woman, and they’re going to have a baby.” She fell silent, then sighed. “Something’s missing from their relationship, though, some spark of passion. I can’t figure it out. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking on my part or—” Maeve broke off. She didn’t want to think these things, much less express them.
But Rose had known her too long. “You’re attracted to him.”
Maeve lifted a lid on a woven basket to inhale the luscious scent of moist potpourri. “I suppose so, if you like that type.”
“Uh-huh. What type is that?”
“Oh, you know, typical surfer,” she said, struggling to sound offhand. “Tall, tanned, hair streaked with gold, warm blue eyes.”
“I see what you mean,” Rose said. “Pretty un-appealing.”
“Oh, Rose.” She turned, wringing her hands. “I am attracted to him. A lot. More than just looks—I feel a connection. The worst part is, he’s attracted to me, too.”
“Oh, dear.” Rose’s lips pursed and her eyebrows drew together. “Has anything happened between you two?”
“No, nothing! He hasn’t made a pass or anything. He’s not the kind of guy who would if he was committed to someone else.” Maeve flung her hands wide. “I don’t even want to like him, for goodness’ sake! He’s the man who’s putting my father out of work.”
“What will you do?” Rose asked quietly.
“From now on, I’ll go to his place only when he’s not there. And…I’m thinking of going away for a while after I finish the garden.”
“My dear, is it that serious?”
“It could be, if a relationship was allowed to develop. But I wouldn’t ever come between him and his fiancée.” Or force him to choose between herself, and having children.
“I’m glad to hear it. By the way, you’re welcome to stay with me in Emerald. If nothing else, the Dandenong Mountains are a relief from the heat of Melbourne.”