Her voice was shaking now, and Jean-Luc understood that. He was shaking, too, the talk, the memories too emotional for his brain to handle so his body had taken over with an automatic response.
‘Not with someone I didn’t love.’
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Surely many people had embraced in this place of such beauty, but few, he was sure, would have clung together as he and Lauren did then—for support, and comfort, and because the world they knew had shifted under their feet.
Well, his world had, mightily, and he guessed Lauren’s had as well, suddenly finding the father of her little boy.
A man who was a total stranger to her now…
He had a son!
The enormity of it moved him away from her, set him pacing back and forth, the majestic view forgotten as he tried to take in what he’d just heard and make it meaningful.
He pictured the little boy, in his Cub uniform, proudly selling socks.
A little boy.
‘Joe is ten?’
‘Nine—ten in a couple of weeks. Downses are small for their age. The dates compute, Jean-Luc!’
The hurt in Lauren’s voice was like a knife wound, but he, too, was hurting that he’d never known his son—held him as a baby, seen his first smile, felt his tiny hand grasp his finger…
He wanted to rage about this, to shout at someone, but it was hardly Lauren’s fault that she’d had a concussion.
That she’d forgotten him.
Facts didn’t stop him feeling angry.
‘Did you try to find out who I was?’
She stared at him.
‘Of course I did. Or Russ did—I wasn’t with it for a long time. But he contacted every aid agency he could find in that area but all the orphanage records had been lost in the floods and most of the staff and children killed. Father Joe died, I suppose you know that. I’d talked of him so often in my emails and he’d seemed so kind, so wonderful, I named Joe after him.’
‘You talked of Father Joe in your emails yet didn’t mention me?’
It was something that had been grating on him, so the words came out far more harshly than he’d intended.
Lauren flinched but didn’t turn away.
‘Do you think I haven’t wondered about that myself? Haven’t thought about it all the time? I hinted at a romance, said I’d met someone special, but I was so cautious about it that when I reread what I’d written I had to wonder if you were married—if there had been something illicit in our relationship.’
‘As if I would do such a thing!’ he protested, but then he remembered he had, technically, been married at the time and worry tightened his gut.
Should he tell Lauren about their argument?
But Lauren was smiling know, a sad smile but a smile nonetheless.
‘I didn’t know you—didn’t remember you, remember?”
Then she sighed and shook her head.
‘In the end I realised that whatever it was we’d had between us—you and I—it must have been too new and rare and precious for me to share. At that stage, anyway. Maybe later I would have said more, but as it turned out there wasn’t any later, was there?’
She sounded lost again and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms and hold her tightly against his body. But such contact was as dangerous as unstable gelignite.
He had a son.
He had to think.
Lauren recovered before he did.
‘I’m not telling you this because I want anything from you, Jean-Luc. But talking to Katie and finding out that her baby’s grandparents don’t know Brooke exists impacted on me to such an extent I knew I had to tell you. Which doesn’t mean any more than that. I’m happy to go on being a single parent,’ she said. ‘I don’t have any expectations from you as far as Joe is concerned. It was my decision to keep him, and he is well cared for and totally loved within the family, so you needn’t worry about his welfare or feel you have to take responsibility for him.’
She paused, knowing she was talking too much, but so much had happened in such a short time her mind was totally befuddled. She tried again.
‘I did want to find out about Joe’s father, but only so I’d know some background health stuff, and probably because I felt he should know Joe existed, and know how well he’s doing.’
She stopped abruptly for Jean-Luc was scowling at her, making it even harder to put her thoughts into sensible sentences.
‘No expectations?’ The word’s snapped from Jean-Luc’s lips as her hurried explanations took form in his head. ‘I have a child and you don’t expect involvement from me? Is that what you are saying? He’s mine but he’s not mine?’
Her eyes looked dark as she studied him and he realised she was as lost in this morass of emotion and information as he was.
‘We should be going,’ she said, her voice sounding strained—exhausted almost. ‘Katie phoned Mrs Malone and told her some friends of hers were going to call in, so she’s expecting us.’
‘So telling Mrs Malone she has a grandchild is more important than talking to me about my son!’
Now he sounded plain grouchy, but Lauren was way ahead of him in the recovery of poise department and greeted his complaint with a shake of her head.
‘We can talk in the car. You’ve met Joe, you know he has a disability, but what you don’t know is that he also has tremendous ability as well. He’s a bright kid, always happy, and he’s sociable, and he loves being part of a group—loves belonging. I’m sorry you’ve missed so much of his life, but he’s far more interesting now than he was as a baby.’
She spoke lightly, but Lauren’s heart was scrunched into a tight ball in the middle of her chest, sitting there like a rock so she had trouble breathing.
What if Jean-Luc wanted Joe?
What if he didn’t?
And how could two people who lived thousands of miles apart share a little boy?
Had she done the wrong thing, telling Jean-Luc?
The questions crowded in her mind and tightened the fist gripping her heart.
She reached the car and climbed back in behind the wheel, and for all her worry she was still overly conscious of Jean-Luc sitting so close beside her, conscious of him in a physical way, as if his body was giving off rays of some kind that teased her skin and tickled her nerves.
‘What kind of groups?’
He was obviously not feeling tease and tickle rays from her.
‘Well, school, he loves school. And Cubs you know about. He’s also a Nipper.’
‘Nipper? This is like Cubs?’
The perplexed look on Jean-Luc’s face made Lauren smile, although most of her attention had to remain firmly on the road, which was winding down the cliffside towards the ocean and the bridge that spanned the headlands.
‘Nippers are junior lifesavers. Do you know about the lifesaving movement? I guess it’s mostly an Australian thing. Young people who voluntarily patrol the beaches during summer. When we get down to Thirroul, after we’ve seen the Malones, we’ll go to the beach—there should be some lifesavers still on patrol.’
‘Joe is a lifesaver?’
The incredulity in his voice brought a real smile to Lauren’s face.
‘Junior lifesaver and, no, I doubt he’ll ever graduate to being a real lifesaver, but the lifesavers aren’t saving lives all the time, they’re watching for sharks and for people in difficulties and they tell people to swim within the flags, and warn them about sunscreen.’
But another glance told her she’d lost him again.
‘I’ll explain later,’ she said. ‘Look, here’s the bridge.’
And the beauty of the scene was enough to stop Jean-Luc’s questions, although as she watched him looking out in wonder at the dark blue ocean, she longed to remember more than just a voice telling her he had no siblings.
Surely if she remembered that, she should remember more. The frustration of it gnawed at her stomach, making her feel physically ill, and deep br
eathing didn’t seem to help, but they were off the bridge and driving through the little seaside villages, built for the miners who’d dug coal out from under the sea in these parts.
‘Thirroul—this is where we’re going. I’ve marked the page in the map book there on the back seat. Could you have a look for Tasman Parade for me, please?’
Jean-Luc turned to get the book, his hand brushing against Lauren’s arm in the process. Why didn’t she have a larger car? Here he was trying to sort his chaotic thoughts into some kind of order and all the while fighting against the attraction that fired the air between them whenever they were close. It was like sitting in the middle of a minefield, aware that one false move could trigger an explosion.
A piece of paper marked the page in the book, but it wasn’t just any piece of paper, it was a photo of Joe.
‘Did you put this there deliberately?’ he demanded, as an emotion he didn’t understand punched him in the heart.
She glanced over and he saw her embarrassment.
‘Of course not. It’s probably been in there for ages and I just stuck it in the right page when I looked up the address today. Bill’s always taking photos of Joe and printing them off on his computer—they’re everywhere around the house so it isn’t hard to pick one up to use as a bookmark.’
‘Ah, and so we come to Bill!’ Jean-Luc said, pleased to find anger replacing the confusing emotion he’d felt earlier. ‘You say you’re not in a relationship so who is Bill? And don’t lie to me—I know he lives with you because Joe told me as much the first day we met, when he was hurt.’
He’d expected embarrassment so was surprised when Lauren laughed, the sound so joyous and whole-hearted his anger spiked, then faded, because Lauren laughing was a beautiful sight.
‘Oh, Jean-Luc, I’m sorry,’ she eventually spluttered, ‘but I was picturing me with Bill. Bill’s a darling and I love him dearly, but he’s Russ’s partner, not mine. From the time we realised I was pregnant, Joe became a family concern. Russ and Bill took over, pointing out that I still needed to finish my education and that we’d need some kind of community living arrangement so there’d always be someone there for the baby. Bill had been offered a job back in Sydney so he and Russ returned and, through the hospital, got the house, which is divided into three flats. I wanted to be independent, and I needed to work, but I didn’t want to put Joe into childcare, so all of us living in the same building made things easy.’
Jean-Luc made a noise that must have signified understanding, because Lauren continued.
‘Russ played cricket for the state and Bill’s a soccer player and they’re both mad on sport so they took on all the sports stuff, and Mum’s been the chief babysitter except when she’s busy preparing for an exhibition—she’s a painter. Then we have a wonderful nanny who comes in—or we did when Joe was little.’
‘I’m sorry, but I hate them all,’ Jean-Luc declared. ‘And you should have turned left back there—you’ve gone too far and will have to go back.’
Lauren drove on to the next intersection and turned back, only half her mind on the road and traffic.
‘You hate them all?’ she echoed, and Jean-Luc sighed.
‘Sour grapes!’ he said. ‘Pure envy! That is my child’s history you’re talking about—it was I who should have taught him soccer. As for cricket, pah, it is a sissy game!’
Lauren wanted to laugh again but she’d heard a note of real hurt in Jean-Luc’s voice and that hurt cut into her, as sharp as a blade.
‘I’m sorry, it was foolish of me to talk to you that way,’ she said, pulling into the side street he’d indicated. She stopped the car and turned to look at him. ‘Do you really feel so strongly about what you’ve missed?’
He stared at her, his blue eyes dark with disbelief.
‘How could I not?’ he demanded, then he sighed again. ‘And here I go, getting angry with you again, when I know you are not to blame. It was some malign fate that did this to us, but to lose so much of my son’s life, how could I not be angry?’
Lauren couldn’t answer—there was no answer—and right now they had a job to do.
She located the house number Katie had given her and parked outside, the front door of the little white house opening as she got out of the car.
‘Are you Katie’s friend?’ the motherly-looking woman asked, then she frowned as Jean-Luc also left the car. ‘Is something wrong with Katie—is that why there are two of you?’
Lauren hurried forward, speaking reassuringly, and an hour later, after tea and scones, baked in honour of the visitors and covered with lashings of home-made jam and cream, Lauren and Jean-Luc departed. Mrs Malone was already packing a bag to take to Sydney where she’d stay with her sister close to the hospital and provide all the support Katie and Brooke would need.
‘Well,’ Jean-Luc said as they drove away, ‘that is one happy woman.’
Lauren nodded, remembering that it was her talk with Katie and mention of Mrs Malone that had pushed her into telling Jean-Luc about Joe.
Had that been a good thing?
She wasn’t sure because apart from being angry over missing out on Joe’s early childhood she still didn’t know where the three of them stood. Not that Jean-Luc had had time to sort out things like a long-term connection…
‘You said the lifesavers—you would show me them at work.’
His prompt made her realise she was sitting behind the wheel of the car, staring into space.
‘Of course,’ she said, and started the engine, reasonably sure this road would lead them to the beach and that somewhere by the beach she’d find the lifesavers’ clubhouse. It was summer, there would be someone on patrol, and it would be an excuse to get out of the car, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller so every move Jean-Luc made registered on her skin and tingled along her nerves.
Down at the beach she found a parking place right outside the clubhouse.
‘Lifesavers work voluntarily,’ she explained. ‘They are mostly teenagers but some members stay on so you get lifesavers of all ages. They have rostered times they do patrols, and these days have jet-skis and rubber duckies—rubber boats—they can use to go out to rescue people.’
They got out of the car and walked around the building, Jean-Luc smelling the tang of the ocean and feeling more at peace than he had since coming to Australia—certainly since he’d run into Lauren again.
Although the fact that he was here with her was definitely adding to his sense of well-being, and that was odd.
Ominous!
He didn’t need a woman to complete his life, so why would he feel that way?
But she was talking again, about red and yellow flags and why people had to stay between them because of rips and currents and because that was the safe area the lifesavers—who mostly looked about fifteen—could patrol.
He listened and took it in, but in another part of his mind he was already walking on that beach—on the soft white sand that beckoned so invitingly. Far out there a few surfers rode their boards, legs dangling over the sides, waiting for a wave, but if lifesavers were on watch this late in the afternoon, there were few people in the surf for them to stand guard over. Maybe six or seven further up the beach.
But the urge to plunge into the green waves that broke against the shore was growing stronger. His underwear was most respectable—far more modest than the tiny bathing costumes some of the men on the beach were wearing.
‘We can have a swim?’
Caught halfway through an explanation of a surf rescue, Lauren looked startled and probably should have been put out but instead she smiled—a radiant smile of such sheer delight it brought back the weird feeling Jean-Luc had suffered the night before.
The one that wasn’t lust…
‘I’d love one,’ Lauren said. ‘I have gear in the car. There’s almost sure to be a pair of shorts of Bill’s or Russ’s if you want. I know there are towels. I’ll just get them. There are changing rooms at the back of the club. Oh, a swi
m will be lovely!’
She disappeared back to the car and Jean-Luc watched her go. What was he doing, going swimming with this woman? Seeing her fully clad sent his libido into overdrive, so in a swimming costume?
And what had happened to his careful, ordered life?
D’ accord! So finding out about Joe had been a shock, but he had to think that through—divorce himself from the emotion he’d stupidly felt—and consider the situation rationally. Working out what happened next was an intellectual exercise, not an emotional one. Emotions only muddied clear thinking.
Lauren was back, holding up a pair of long shorts, bright blue with white hibiscus flowers all over them. Very large hibiscus flowers.
She must have read his horror, for she laughed and said, ‘If your underwear is respectable, you can swim in that—people do, all the time. But you could try the shorts then you won’t have to drive back to Sydney in wet underwear, or commando if that’s what you’d prefer.’
She grinned at him and disappeared, presumably to change, leaving him with the bright shorts.
Oh, well, there would be no one he knew on this beach in far-off Australia, so maybe he could wear them. He found his way to the changing rooms and came out to find Lauren not waiting for him but already striding across the sand towards the water.
He’d have known her body anywhere. It may have been ten years but that figure in the black one-piece was not very different to the twenty-one-year-old who’d also walked ahead of him, innumerable times, on another beach, far, far away. Even at twenty-one she’d had the curves of a much more mature woman, the swell of hips below her waist, the tightly rounded buttocks, and when she turned, lush breasts, deep and full.
He was glad he was wearing the extremely roomy board shorts as his body was behaving even more badly than it had in the car. And not that he’d seen her breasts in the swimming costume. Not until she’d found a bare patch of sand on which to drop her towels and clothes did she turn to see if he was coming.
Yes, breasts still just as full, a deep cleft not visible from where he was but very vivid in his memory. And suddenly he ached with the pain of wanting her, yet knew this was wrong—it wasn’t her he wanted at all, but the young Lauren whom he’d loved.
The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child Page 9