by Margaret Way
‘I—I see.’
Jean blew her nose and darted another glance in Jacob’s direction. And now, as if he’d been waiting for some kind of signal, he began to walk towards them.
Nell’s breathing faltered. She’d forgotten how big he was, how broad-shouldered and tall, and as his long strides closed the gap between them, she had to look up to see his face. She saw signs of strain in the bleakness of his eyes and in the vertical lines at either side of his grim mouth.
‘Hello, Nell.’
‘Jacob,’ she managed, but her mouth began to tremble. She was exhausted and dazed and seeing his stern face was almost too much.
He said, ‘Mrs Browne has kindly invited me to meet our grandson.’
Our grandson.
Nell wasn’t sure which word shocked her more. Our suggested that the two of them were still united in some way. Grandson hinted at an intimate connection over many, many years, but they were strangers. And not yet forty.
‘Maybe this is the wrong time,’ Jean said, eyeing them both and sensing their tension. ‘I—I have to go. But I couldn’t let you both take off without speaking to you.’
‘I’m so glad you did,’ Nell said, clasping the woman’s hand. ‘And I’d adore seeing Sam again. That’s very kind. We—’ She swallowed to ease her choked throat.
‘Perhaps you’d rather come separately?’ Jean suggested, darting a glance of sharp-eyed curiosity from one to the other.
Nell felt her cheeks grow hot.
‘I think we should come together.’ Jacob spoke directly to Jean, as if Nell wasn’t there. ‘You won’t want too many interruptions.’
‘It would certainly be easier if I could discuss my problem with both of you.’
What was this problem that needed discussing? Nell wished Jean wasn’t so evasive, but it certainly wasn’t the time to challenge her.
‘Would tomorrow morning suit?’ Jean asked. ‘Will you still be in Melbourne, Mr Tucker?’
‘Yes, I’m staying for a few days.’
‘At around eleven?’
‘Eleven suits me fine.’
‘And me,’ Nell agreed.
Jean shoved her damp handkerchief into her handbag and snapped it shut as if, somehow, the gesture ended the matter. ‘I’ll see you then.’
With that she turned and scuttled out of the chapel, clearly relieved to leave Nell and Jacob alone.
Jacob stood at the end of Nell’s pew, blocking her exit. She took two steps towards him, as if she expected him to be a gentleman and make way for her, but she was out of luck today. He’d been to hell and back in this chapel, saying farewell to a daughter he had never known, had never held, hadn’t so much as touched.
No one here could have guessed or understood how he had loved and missed Tegan, without ever knowing her.
And this woman, whom he’d loved and lost in one short summer, had given their daughter away. So why was she here now, pretending she cared?
‘I didn’t expect you to be here,’ he said between tight lips.
Nell shook her head and she was so close to him, he could smell her perfume, elusive and sweet and unbearably intimate.
‘Why wouldn’t I come?’ Her voice was so choked he could only just catch the words. ‘This is our daughter’s funeral, Jacob.’
‘But you gave Tegan away.’
‘No.’
No?
How could she lie? Jacob wanted to confront her, to demand that she retract her lie, but, heaven help him, she looked so vulnerable and tired. Too pale.
Growing paler …
To his dismay, Nell swayed on her feet and sank down on to the pew, closed her eyes and hunched over, pressing her fingers to her temples. He stared at the top of her golden head and at the play of jewelled lights from a stained glass window throwing red and blue patterns over her.
Her hair was incredibly shiny and so much neater than he remembered. As a girl it had flowed in rumpled waves loose to her shoulders. He reached out a hand, but he didn’t touch her. ‘Are you OK?’
With her eyes closed, she nodded her head. ‘Just tired and sad.’
A moment later, her eyes opened and she turned her head slowly, carefully, almost as if her neck were stiff, and looked up at him. Her blue eyes were lovely—even lovelier than he’d remembered. Looking into them, he felt punch-drunk.
‘I really need to go home now,’ she said.
Her weakness launched him into gallantry. The questions consuming him would have to wait. ‘Of course.’
This time, when he reached down, he touched her sleeve at the elbow. ‘Let me drive you.’
Pink stole into her cheeks. ‘That’s not necessary.’
‘Did you bring your car?’
‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘I came by taxi.’
‘Then there’s no argument.’ His hand closed around her arm and he watched the colour in her cheeks spread. ‘Come on.’
To his surprise, she didn’t pull away from him, but rose obediently. Everything felt unreal as they walked together out of the chapel into sunshine and fresh air. The mourners had disappeared and the late model Mercedes he’d hired stood alone in the car park.
From a distance of ten paces, Jacob unlocked it. Its lights blinked and Nell gave a little mew of surprise.
‘Nice car.’
‘It’s only hired.’ He walked to the passenger’s side and opened the door for her, watching every elegant movement as she ducked her head and sat, drawing her slim legs neatly inside. Grimly, he closed her door, walked around the car and got in beside her, wishing he could feel calm.
Keep your mind on the traffic. Forget that it’s Nell. And don’t think about the past. No sense in dragging her into an argument now.
‘Where to?’ Jacob asked, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. ‘Would you like to go somewhere for coffee?’
Nell shook her head. ‘I just need to get home, please.’
‘That’s in Toorak, right?’
‘No.’ She quickly donned oversized dark glasses that hid her expressive eyes. ‘I don’t live there now. I’m in Williamstown.’
Jacob frowned as he started the car and joined the steady stream of traffic. Williamstown was an attractive bayside suburb, but it didn’t really make sense that Nell and her barrister husband had moved there. Why would they leave their exclusive address at Toorak, the Melbourne suburb synonymous with opulence and gracious living?
While he was musing over this she asked, ‘Where do you live these days?’
‘I’m based up in Queensland. Near Roma.’
‘That should be good cattle country.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘You’ve done well.’
Unsure if this was a statement or a question, Jacob didn’t respond and he drove for some time in uncomfortable silence. Nell sat very straight and still with her hands in her lap, while he kept his gaze strictly ahead.
As they reached the Westgate Bridge arching high over the Yarra River, she asked, ‘Did you know about the baby—about Tegan’s baby? Before today?’
Jacob turned to her sharply. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I had no idea. Did you?’
She nodded. ‘Jean contacted me the day after the accident. She seemed to be struggling with it all and I went over to see if I could help. I saw Sam then. He’s very cute.’
‘I only found out about Tegan six weeks ago.’ It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
‘So Tegan did write to you?’
‘Yes. Quite a long and chatty letter.’
‘It must have been a shock.’
He cracked a bitter smile. ‘That’s something of an understatement. It took me almost a week to recover before I sent my reply.’ He paused. ‘And then, two days ago, there was another letter from Jean.’
‘About Tegan’s accident.’
‘And details of the funeral arrangements.’
‘A much worse shock.’
‘Terrible.’ After a bit, he said, ‘Tegan didn’t mention that
she was pregnant.’
‘But I’m so glad she wrote.’
Jacob frowned. ‘You sound as if you were involved somehow.’
Nell dropped her gaze to her handbag—genuine crocodile skin, if he wasn’t mistaken. ‘Not really.’
‘Not really? What does that mean?’
She played with the handle of the handbag, running the tip of her forefinger over the stitching. ‘Tegan wrote to me and told me she wanted to make contact with you. I told her what I knew, which wasn’t much more than your name and your age. She did the rest. You know how clever young people are on the Internet these days.’
‘But she’d already had contact with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How? Through an adoption agency?’
‘Yes.’
Jacob’s hand clenched around the wheel. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Why couldn’t the agency give her my name too?’
When Nell didn’t answer, he lost patience. ‘Why the hell did my daughter have to go to you to find out my name?’
‘Jacob, be careful!’
A car horn blasted beside them and Jacob realised he’d swerved dangerously close to the next lane. Teeth gritted, he corrected the steering. And then he repeated his question. ‘Why did Tegan have to ask you for my name?’
He sent another sharp glance in Nell’s direction and, despite the obscuring sunglasses, he saw that her cheeks were flushed, her mouth contorted, embarrassed.
‘That’s because your name—’ The stain in her cheeks deepened. ‘Your name wasn’t on the records. You—you weren’t listed on Tegan’s birth certificate.’
‘What?’ The word exploded from him, making Nell flinch.
Too bad, if he’d upset her. She’d upset him. Twenty years of physical exclusion and now the news that there had never been any recognition of his link to Tegan. Father unknown. Anger roiled through him, gathering force, an avalanche of emotion.
Beside him, Nell clutched her handbag against her stomach and sat very straight. ‘Jacob, we shouldn’t discuss this sort of thing while you’re driving.’
She was probably right, but his only response was an angry hiss. Jaw clenched, he checked the rear-vision mirror, switched lanes in readiness for the Williamstown exit, and tension, as suffocating as smoke, filled the car’s interior.
Five minutes later, Nell directed him into a quiet street a block back from the waterfront.
‘My house is the little one over there with the blue door,’ she said, pointing.
His anger gave way to bafflement as he pulled up outside a quaint but modest colonial cottage with a front hedge of lavender, a flagstone path and yellow roses over the door. It was the kind of old-fashioned cottage and garden his mother adored, but he’d never dreamed that Nell Ruthven and her husband would live in a place like this.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ Nell said quietly.
‘My pleasure.’ Jacob couldn’t keep the brittle note out of his voice.
Her fingers sought the door catch.
‘Shall I pick you up tomorrow morning to go to the Brownes’?’
After a slight hesitation, she said, ‘Thank you. I suppose it makes sense if we travel together.’
‘We should talk, Nell.’ His mind was still seething with angry questions.
Her eyes met his and he saw a heart-wrenching mixture of sorrow and bewilderment and something deeper he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
‘After all this time, we have things to say to each other,’ he said.
‘I can’t talk now, Jacob. There’s no point in even trying to talk today. We’re both too upset and tense.’
Although he was desperate to get everything out in the open, he had to admit that he felt wrung out. And Nell looked far worse.
She pulled the catch, the door clicked open and the scent of lavender drifted in to him on a light sea breeze. In the distance he could hear a seagull’s cry.
‘It must be very pleasant living here,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone.
‘Yes, I love it.’ She turned to speak over her shoulder, without quite looking at him. ‘Why don’t you come early tomorrow? We can talk before we go to the Brownes’?’
‘Great idea. We can go for coffee somewhere in the city.’
‘We can talk here if you like.’
Jacob frowned. ‘Are you sure your husband won’t mind?’
He was watching her profile carefully, saw her mouth curl into a complicated, off-kilter smile. ‘That won’t be a problem. There will only be the two of us. What time would you like to come?’
‘Nine? Half past?’
‘Make it half past. I’ll see you then.’
Nell got out and closed the door behind her and Jacob watched her through the passenger window as she crossed the footpath and opened the front gate. A sudden breeze gusted up the street, shaking the heads of the lavender and, as she walked up the path, the wind teased a bright strand of her hair from its braid and lifted the collar of her jacket against her neck. Her high heels made a tapping sound on the paving stones.
Framed by cream and yellow roses, she stood on her front porch in her neat, dark suit and fished in her handbag for her door key, and she looked beautiful and citified and completely removed from the horse-riding country girl he’d known for two months of one summer twenty years ago.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would be entering that house, talking to Nell at last, discovering the truth he both longed for and feared.
He flipped the key in the Mercedes’s ignition so hard he almost snapped it in two.
CHAPTER TWO
TWO o’clock in the morning found Jacob awake in his unfamiliar hotel bed.
A picture of Tegan had been displayed at the funeral—his first, his only sight of his daughter—and it haunted him.
She’d been dancing on a sunlit beach and wearing a blue cotton dress that was a perfect match for the bright summer sky. Her feet had been bare and sandy, her tanned arms uplifted, her skirt billowing behind her in the wind. She’d been laughing and her long brown hair had streamed like a dark ribbon. Her eyes had sparkled with the sheer joy of being alive.
Jacob had been startled by how intensely and immediately he’d felt connected to her. The bond had gone beyond the uncanny likeness to his family in the darkness of her hair, the strong lines of her cheekbones, her straight, dark eyebrows. He’d felt it deep in his bones, in his blood, in his breath.
He had, of course, seen Nell in Tegan, too. She’d been there in the tilt of the girl’s head, in the slender shapeliness of her long legs. And that led him to thinking about Nell Ruthven née Harrington, about their meeting today. After so long.
He’d been way too tense. Everything about it had been wrong.
So many times during the past twenty years, he’d imagined a parallel universe in which he’d met Nell again. He had never deliberately sought her out, not once he’d learned she was married, but he’d imagined a scenario where they would bump into each other quite by chance. They would drop whatever they had planned for that day and go somewhere just to talk.
They’d smile a lot and chat for ages, catching up. Their reunion would be so poignant that time and Nell’s marriage to another man would become meaningless.
‘I want to go on seeing you,’ he’d say.
She’d smile. ‘I’d love that.’
Problem was, this fantasy was based on the twenty-year-old assumption that Nell had been wrong about her pregnancy, that it had simply been a case of a late period. Jacob knew through gossip his mother had passed on that Nell’s adult life had never included a child and he’d never dreamed their baby had been given away for adoption.
Tomorrow was going to be difficult. He had questions that demanded answers, but it would also be his one chance to enter that parallel universe, to reconnect with Nell’s world. And, even if it was only for a day, he didn’t want to get it wrong.
It would be easier to stay calm if he wasn’t plagued by bitter-sweet memories of their amazing, deva
stating summer at Half Moon, if he couldn’t still remember painful details of those two short months with Nell, right back to his first sight of her.
Home from university, she had been riding Mistral, a grey mare, and she’d come into the stables where he’d been working. Her cheeks had been flushed from the wind, her eyes bright and she’d been dressed like a glamorous, high-society equestrian in a mustard velvet jacket, pale cream jodhpurs and knee high, brown leather boots.
The fancy clothes had fitted her snugly, hugging the roundness of her breasts, cinching her waist and accentuating the length of her legs. Her pale hair had rippled like water about her shoulders and her eyes had been as blue and clear as icy stars. She had been beautiful. So incredibly beautiful …
But what had happened next was one of those unbelievably zany moments that should only have happened in B grade movies. Nell was leading her horse when she saw him and stopped. And instead of exchanging polite hellos, they’d stood there, open-mouthed, staring at each other, while Jacob’s blood had rushed and roared and his heart had become a sledgehammer.
Looking back, he guessed they must have spoken, but the rest of that afternoon was a blur to him now. Much clearer was their meeting the next morning.
He’d gone to the stables just after dawn and noticed immediately that Mistral was missing. He’d guessed that Nell had taken her for an early morning ride and within a dozen heartbeats he’d mounted another horse and taken off.
Half Moon was a huge property and he had no idea where Nell was, but he’d been quite sure at the outset that he would find her, that she’d wanted him to find her. Perhaps the mysterious sixth sense that the gods bestowed on destined lovers had whispered that she would be waiting for him.
It wasn’t long before he’d found her horse tied to a tree beside the river where white mist lifted in curling, wispy trails from the smooth, glassy surface of the water.
‘Hey there, Jacob.’
Nell’s voice seemed to come from a paperbark tree and when he peered through the weeping canopy he saw her sitting on a branch overhanging the water. She was wearing a blue checked shirt and ordinary blue jeans this morning, and dusty, elastic-sided boots. Apart from the golden gleam of her hair, she looked more like the everyday Outback girls Jacob was used to.