‘Hell, Gina, I didn’t mean to say…’ Cal sounded horrified.
‘You did say,’ she spluttered, backing further away from him. ‘Get lost, Cal Jamieson. You say you loved me. That’s ridiculous. You don’t know the meaning of the word. Leave me be. I’m going back to the hospital. I’m going to check on our baby in the morning and the minute he doesn’t need me I’m out of here. I’m out of your life. I’ll send you a photo of CJ every year on his birthday. I’m sure that’s all you want, Cal Jamieson, and it’s all you deserve. Get lost.’
Three hundred miles away another drama was being played out. Another consequence of loving.
‘Megan?’
‘Go away.’ The girl’s voice dragged as though there was no strength left in it and her mother’s surge of fear grew even stronger. What was happening?
Honey had hoped this day could be different. When she’d persuaded her husband and daughter to go to the rodeo she’d almost allowed herself to be optimistic. She’d hoped it could be time out from the depression that draped this sad old farmhouse and the people in it.
But Megan had been silent and sullen all the way to the rodeo, and as soon as they’d arrived she’d disappeared to be by herself in the bush. Well, what was new? Honey had wondered sadly. For the last few months Megan had glumped round the house in her oversized men’s clothes, she’d worked in sullen silence, she’d eaten like there was no stopping her, not caring care how much weight she put on…
Honey Cooper had been concerned about her nineteen-year-old daughter for months, but then she’d also been terrified about her husband’s failing health. More. She’d been terrified that the bank would finally foreclose on the farm. She’d been terrified that Jim would kill himself. There was only so much terror one woman could hold, and Megan’s depression had seemed the least of it.
But today there’d been something new. Worse. On the way home from the rodeo Megan had huddled into the back of the car like a wounded animal. She’d stayed there until Honey had got Jim inside and then Megan had scuttled into her bedroom and locked the door behind her.
Now she’d been in the bathroom for an hour and as Honey had lain beside Jim she’d heard searing, racking sobs that had terrified her past all the rest.
And things she’d been trying hard to ignore had suddenly refused to be ignored a moment longer.
‘What the hell’s going on with Megan?’ Jim asked, and she laid a hand on her husband’s arm to stop him getting up. His heart was so bad. He mustn’t get upset.
‘Hush. I’ll go and see.’
‘It’s not that boy?’ Jim rolled over in the dark and stared bleakly at his wife in the moonlight streaming in through the dust-streaked window. ‘He wasn’t at the rodeo, was he? If he’s been seeing her again… If he’s hurt her…’
‘I’m sure he wasn’t there,’ Honey said soothingly. ‘You know Megan promised she wouldn’t see him again. I’m sure she meant it and I’m sure he hasn’t tried to see her. Hush. I’ll go and see what’s wrong.’
But now she stood outside the locked bathroom door and she knew that there was no quick fix available here. Megan’s sobs were truly frightening. Megan, who’d held the family together. She’d leaned on her far too much, Honey thought as she asked again that her daughter unlock the door. But what choice did she have?
Megan was nineteen and clever and she’d ached to go to university-but if she’d gone then the hard work here would have killed Jim. So Honey had pressured her to stay. Megan had worked and worked, even after that boy…
‘Megan, love, you need to unlock the door.’
‘I’m fine.’ The words were spoken on a hiccuping sob. ‘Go away. I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine and I’m not going away until you open the door. Please, Megan. Your father’s worried.’
Your father’s worried. Your father’s sick. Your father needs you. Here it was again, Honey thought. Emotional blackmail. But it was all she had.
And it worked now as it had worked before. There was a ragged gasp, a scuffle-sounds of cleaning up?-and then the door was opened a crack.
‘I’m fine,’ Megan said again, harshly into the stillness of the darkened house. ‘Tell Dad he doesn’t have to worry.’
‘Come into your room and we’ll talk about it.’ She was still whispering. Jim mustn’t hear.
‘Why?’ Megan whispered back, just as fiercely. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
She turned, and as she did, Honey gasped.
Megan was wearing a faded chenille dressing-gown, the sort of shapeless garment she’d been wearing for months. But as she turned against the moonlight streaming in from the window at the end of the passage, Honey had caught her profile.
For months she’d been looking at that profile, thinking no, surely not, that would be the one thing that would kill Jim, please no. It was just weight gain. Megan had been overeating. It had to be the reason.
And now…
‘Oh, God, you’ve lost it,’ she whispered. ‘Meg, you’ve lost the baby.’
‘What baby?’
‘You were pregnant.’
‘So what?’ Megan said wearily, and Honey grabbed her shoulders and propelled her back into her room and shut the door behind her.
‘You really were.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not any more.’ The girl’s voice sounded exhausted. Defeated.
‘What…what happened?’
‘It was dead,’ Megan whispered, still in that awful, inhuman voice. ‘It came early and it was dead. A miscarriage. I miscarried a baby and now it’s over. So you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.’
‘Oh, my dear…’ Honey reached out to hug her daughter but Megan flinched away.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said dully. ‘Go back to Dad. Tell him there’s no need to worry. I’ll go on being his good little girl and he doesn’t have to have a heart attack.’
‘Megan, that’s not fair.’
‘My baby’s dead,’ Megan flashed at her. ‘Is that fair?’ Then she crumpled back onto the bed, sinking her face into her hands. ‘Nothing’s fair. The whole world isn’t fair.’
‘I’ll take you to the hospital,’ Honey said uncertainly, and Megan’s hands dropped from her face so she could stare at her mother in fury.
‘You think I shut up for all these months for you to tell Dad now?’ she snapped. ‘Protect Dad at all costs? Well, I have and there’s nothing to do now but go to bed and forget about it.’
‘You’ll need to be checked.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Love…’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Megan whispered. ‘I’m not doing anything. You tell anyone and I’ll deny it absolutely. The whole thing is over, Mum. Go back to bed.’
She sat, rigid and unmoving, waiting for Honey to leave. Waiting to be alone again. Waiting.
Honey was left with nothing to do. With nowhere to go.
She stared down at her daughter for a long, long minute and Megan glared back, unflinching.
‘The baby’s dead and it’s over,’ she whispered. ‘There’s an end to it. An end to everything.’
‘Oh, my love…’
‘There’s no love about it,’ Megan said bleakly. ‘Leave me be.’
‘Honey?’
It was Jim’s voice calling from down the hall, and with a last desperate glance at her daughter Honey turned away.
Megan flinched again.
But she sat unmoving. Then, as the door finally closed behind her mother, the girl hauled herself under the covers-and she started to shake.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS almost noon when Gina woke and for a moment she didn’t have a clue where she was or what was happening.
Then remembrance flooded back and with it horror.
The events of the day before were a jumbled kaleidoscope of surging emotion. A desperately ill baby. Dead children. Appalling injuries. Cal…
CJ. She reached out and his warm little body wasn’t beside her. Of course. He was
with the Grubbs.
Still?
She checked her watch and gasped. What was she thinking of, sleeping this late? The baby, CJ-she’d have been needed and no one had called. She threw back her covers and then gasped again as a man’s silhouette blocked the sun.
‘You might like to reconsider getting out of bed,’ Cal drawled. ‘Unless you’re wearing more than it looks like you’re wearing from out here.’
He was on the veranda. She’d left the door open last night to let in the sea breeze, and he was blocking the doorway. And as for what she was wearing… Last night-or early this morning-she’d simply stripped off her sea-soaked clothes, stood under a cold shower until her burning body had cooled and then fallen straight into bed.
And now here was Cal, right in the doorway.
‘Go away,’ she snapped, and hauled her sheet up to her chin.
‘I brought you your luggage,’ he told her, not going away at all but walking into her room and dumping her gear at the foot of the bed. ‘You could at least sound grateful.’
‘I’m grateful,’ she told him, glaring enough to give the lie to her words. But then she looked at the single red bag he was carrying and was distracted enough to be deflected. ‘I had two bags. A red and a green one.’
‘The red one’s heavy enough.’
‘I had a small green one.’
‘It didn’t come back, then,’ he told her. ‘The coach-line people delivered one red bag this morning but that was all there was. Problem?’
She caught herself. ‘Um…no.’ No problem. She was staying next door to a hospital after all.
Right. Where was she? Glaring.
‘There’s no problem if you go away,’ she told him, and he had the temerity to smile.
‘OK. But I’ve also brought you your son.’
CJ. She sat up, cautiously, still holding her sheet. ‘What have you done with CJ?’
‘You sound as if you expect that I’ve corrupted him by just existing.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she told him, still trying to hold her glower. Drat the man, why did he have to smile like that? ‘Where is he?’
‘He was right behind me but his puppy escaped into the garden. I can see them from here. The puppy seems to be investigating the lorikeets in the grevillea and CJ is supervising.’
She tried to sort this information but found it even more confusing. ‘His puppy?’
‘The Grubbs have given your son…our son…a puppy.’
There was a lot in that statement to consider-so she stuck to the easiest bit. ‘CJ can’t have a puppy,’ she said blankly.
‘I would have thought that.’ Cal stood at the end of her bed and looked at her, speculation and amusement lurking in those deep eyes. ‘But you did leave him with the Grubbs for the night.’
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘No, but you did, and the Grubbs are warm-hearted people who maybe lack a little in the grey-matter department. They have a puppy they don’t want-their bitch has a habit of finding all sorts of unsuitable partners and the Grubb puppies are legion in this place-and they’ve seen a little boy who falls in love. So they’ve done the obvious thing.’
Still too much information. She couldn’t figure it all out. And why was he standing there, just…smiling?
‘We’re going back to the States,’ she told him.
‘I guess the puppy is, too, then.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She went to toss back the covers, remembered and grabbed them back again. ‘Go away so I can dress.’
‘I’ll wait on the veranda.’
‘Wait anywhere you like. Just not here.’
‘I’ll watch CJ, shall I?’
‘Watch him all you want.’
‘Gina…’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re not being very kind.’
‘Why should I be kind?’ she demanded. ‘Just go away, Cal Jamieson. You don’t make me feel kind at all.’
By the time she’d showered and dressed she’d simmered down a little-but not much. Not enough. She walked out onto the veranda wearing her own clothes, a soft linen skirt and a T-shirt that didn’t look businesslike but at least made her feel clean and normal and almost in charge of her world. It was great to have her own gear. Or almost all her own gear. Then she saw Cal with her son and she forgot about her luggage and she wasn’t in charge of her world any more at all.
They were so alike it was breathtaking. Heartbreaking.
From the time CJ had been born she’d seen Cal every time she’d looked into her son’s face, and now, seeing them side by side, it was almost too much for her. When she walked out onto the veranda CJ was wearing Bruce’s hat, but the pup bounced up and knocked it off. Cal retrieved it and together they carefully inspected it for damage. CJ’s wiry curls, the intent look in his eyes, the way his forehead puckered in concentration… Their heads were almost touching, the sound of Cal’s grave voice telling the pup to leave the hat alone, CJ’s higher voice raised in a copied command-and then a low chuckle and a high-pitched giggle as the puppy bounced up and raced off with the hat again…
Practicalities, she told herself fiercely as she dug her hands deep into her skirt’s side pockets and walked steadily down the steps to meet them.
They heard her sandals on the steps and Cal turned-but as he turned, the pup saw a new pair of legs coming toward him, dropped the hat and bounced over to investigate.
For the first time she focussed on the dog. What was it?
A cross between a Dalmatian and a boxer with a bit of cocker spaniel thrown in, she thought. It looked half-grown, long and gangly and all legs. White with black spots. A face that looked like it had just been punched flat. Great ears that dangled past his collar.
He reached her and jumped up, his large paws landing on her thigh and darned near knocking her over. He looked up at her, and she could swear his big stupid canine face was grinning, and his black and white tail was wagging so fast it could have made electricity.
‘What sort of a dog is this?’ she gasped, trying to back off. But the pup wasn’t having any of it. He was leaping up and dancing around her, barking and grinning and grinning, and despite herself she had to grin back.
‘His name is Rudolph, after a ballet dancer Mrs Grubb saw on TV,’ CJ told her, looking at his mother with a certain amount of anxiety. ‘Mrs Grubb says he’s going to be the best dog in the world and he prances just like a ballet dancer. Can we keep him?’
Rudolph had raced back down to his new would-be owner. Now he squatted in pounce position, leapt at CJ, knocked him down, licked his face, then galloped back to Gina. Gina backed fast but he jumped up, the backs of her legs caught the veranda steps and she sat down. Hard.
Rudolph licked with a tongue that was roughly the size of a large facecloth.
‘Ugh,’ Gina said, stunned. She wiped her face and watched the dog gallop over to Cal.
‘Sit,’ Cal said.
Rudolph sat.
The tail was going ballistic.
‘CJ, we can’t keep this dog,’ she said, and if her voice sounded desperate, who could blame her? ‘For a start there’s no way we can take him home. He can hardly sit on my lap on the plane.’
‘He can sit on mine,’ CJ said stoutly, and Cal choked.
‘You laugh and I’m going to have to kill you,’ Gina said conversationally, and focussed on CJ. Or tried to focus on CJ. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she told him. ‘Did you mind sleeping at Mrs Grubb’s?’
‘No, because of Rudolph,’ he told her. ‘Mom, Mr Grubb says he has to take a dead tree to the rubbish tip and I can go in his truck if I want, and Rudolph can come, too, but I have to ask you first so Cal said we should wake you up.’
‘Gee, thanks, Cal,’ she said, and glowered.
‘Think nothing of it,’ Cal said, smiling blandly. ‘But Mr Grubb’s waiting. Can CJ go? Grubb’s very reliable.’
There were three faces looking at her in mute appeal. CJ’s, Cal’s, Rudolph’s. She w
as so out of her depth she was drowning.
‘Fine,’ she told them all, and was rewarded by a war whoop and the sight of her small son-and dog-flying away across the lawn to the dubious attractions of Crocodile Creek’s rubbish tip.
‘I haven’t even thought about when we’re leaving,’ Gina said, staring after her son in dismay.
‘Good,’ Cal told her.
‘You’re not still on about Townsville?’ she snapped, and he had the grace to look a bit shamefaced.
‘No. Gina, I’m sorry about last night.’
‘Good.’
‘I pushed you for my own ends.’
‘So you did.’
‘And I never meant that I didn’t want CJ to have been born. Of course I didn’t.’
‘Fine.’ She glowered. It seemed to be becoming a permanent state.
‘But it would be good for CJ to be raised where I could have some access.’
‘So move to the States.’
‘My base is here.’
‘No,’ she said, and her anger faded a bit as she turned to face him square on. ‘You don’t have a base.’
‘I’ve been here for four years.’
‘Yes, but you don’t love anyone here.’
‘That’s irrelevant.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘Gina…’
‘You don’t need any of these people,’ she said. She’d gone to bed last night thinking of Cal, thinking of what was happening with him, and this discussion seemed an extension of that. It might be intrusive-none of her business-but him pushing her last night seemed to have removed the barriers to telling things how they were. ‘Cal, you’re spending your whole life patching people up, picking up the pieces, in medicine and in your personal life. Like with me. I came out here five years ago desperately unhappy and you picked up the pieces and you patched me up and I fell deeply in love with you. But then you don’t take the next step. You never admit you need anyone else. Is there anyone here you need? Really, Cal?’
‘I…’
‘Of course there’s not,’ she said, almost cordially. ‘Because of what happened with your family, you’ve never let yourself need anyone again.’
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