by Paula Roe
From what they gathered, Cairns was a disaster area. Parts of the city still had no water and electricity, and phone coverage was spotty. With the tropical climate, it was crucial those services be up and running again as soon as possible. It would be an arduous task, one that required a coordinated effort of all rescue services, plus private contractors. At least when the ports were clear and operating, supplies could be shipped in, and the massive cleanup could begin.
Armed with that information, they set about doing physical tasks around the house—ripping the tape off the windows they hadn’t already gotten to, and clearing more of the debris that would probably take a few weeks to get into some semblance of order, because all services would give priority to the mainland.
It was good to keep busy, to just focus on the pure physicality of lifting, clearing, moving. She’d assumed there’d be no time to think about tests, babies, Grace or the situation with Marco, but as they worked and sweat quickly soaked Kat’s shirt, she found her mind was not so easily swayed.
You can’t have this baby. She couldn’t. It was the exact reason she’d vowed not to have kids. Her heart squeezed painfully and she scowled, putting more force than necessary into her raking task.
What her mother had gone through, what she’d gone through, watching her slowly wither and die from that death sentence... It was a pain so unfathomable that she’d willingly shift a mountain to prevent it from happening. It was one thing to cope with having the disease, to know exactly what she’d be facing every single day for the rest of her short life. But to willingly bring a child into that equation? No. Never.
Her eyes flicked briefly to Marco, then away. Yes, the pain of termination would cut deep, but it was preferable to a lifetime of anguish, of knowing she could have prevented it but selfishly did nothing. She would not put a child nor Marco through that.
Ah. No. Don’t think about it. But she couldn’t help it—her thoughts were already there, crowding her head with every single possible scenario until it was the only thing she could think about.
She gritted her teeth, wielding the rake with such force that she heard the handle creak. Damn. Something else. Think of...the cyclone. Work. Yes, work. Grace would want her on top of this, sourcing stories, digging up information. She’d be so busy she wouldn’t have a second to scratch herself, let alone think about...that.
She winced. And so it would begin again—Grace would choose the stories worthy of their effort and attention, the appropriate donation lines would be set up and a dozen other untold issues would remain just a couple of sentences in her notes.
The futility frustrated her.
And so she spent the next half hour focused on cleaning up, and eventually, with her arm and thigh muscles aching from the effort, they managed to clear a good part of the mess surrounding the house.
Finally Marco straightened, grabbed a bottle of water from beneath the tree and took a swig, then picked up his phone. “We should finish up.”
Kat paused, scratching at a thin bead of sweat running down her neck as he handed her another bottle. “Okay.”
“We’ll probably make the mainland by three.”
She nodded, one hand on her hip as she took a long swallow.
When he fell silent, she could feel his eyes on her. “Kat...”
Her gaze snapped to his as she finished the water, and the look in his eyes had her insides crumbling all over again. “Marco,” she breathed. “Don’t.”
“But I have to say—”
“No,” she said, a little too forcefully. “Don’t say a thing. We did that already and look where that’s gotten us. I don’t want to say anything more until I have those follow-up tests in my hands. Until I know for sure.” She studied him for a moment, taking in the tightness bracketing his mouth, his slightly clenched fist. “Promise me. No talk until we know.”
As the seconds stretched, she held her breath, willing him with her mind. She’d coped with her mother’s illness by not discussing, by not talking. She couldn’t recall having one single deep and meaningful conversation with her father about what was going on, how she was coping, what he was feeling. He wasn’t a talker at the best of times, but in this his lips had been perfectly sealed. Not talking was the only way she knew—that and partying until the nights had all just become one big, glitzy blur.
If Marco made her discuss just one more thing about this mind-boggling situation, she was sure she’d dissolve into a bawling mess on the floor.
“Fine.”
Her breath whooshed out, relief flooding in. “Thank you. Now—” she attempted a smile but it fell way flat “—I don’t know about you but I definitely need a shower before we head back to civilization.”
* * *
How she managed to keep everything together for the entire day, Marco would never know. It was a testament to her inner strength, to her willpower, that she went through the motions of the boat trip strong and silently, pale-faced but determinedly swallowing her nausea.
And slowly, as the mainland came closer and closer, their attention was commanded by the shocking result of Cyclone Rory against the mainland of Cairns.
The radio reports had done nothing to prepare them for the devastation. It looked as if someone had stomped through in giant boots and created total havoc. A dozen private boats were all bunched up and shoved against the harbor wall like toys. The majestic palm trees were flattened, some crushing houses, some merely uprooted. Debris, sand, trees, glass, broken buildings and belongings... Everything had been displaced and reorganized into odd clusters, like the small speedboat half-buried in a luxury beach house. The kid’s bike hanging from a lone palm tree. A cracked plasma TV lying in the middle of a now-sand-covered Esplanade pool. There were ripped roofs and scattered belongings and broken dreams left bare and torn.
Everywhere they looked, the cyclone had transformed the coastline into something neither of them recognized. In solemn silence they managed to dock, even though flotsam still floated in the water, then picked their way across the amazing wreck that was The Esplanade, to the next street, where Marco had arranged for a car to pick them up.
The drive north through town was made in similar silence as they were guided through the traffic snarl and stared out at the damage, trying to wrap their heads around the utter devastation the storm had wrought.
Physical devastation to accompany the emotional.
Marco swallowed, his gaze going briefly to Kat in the passenger seat, then back to the litter-strewn road, his eyes firmly on the police and rescue workers directing traffic and controlling the dozen news cars competing with business owners and volunteers eager to start the cleanup.
No, he had to stop those thoughts right now. They didn’t know. Not until—as she said—she had the hard evidence in her hand. Then they would deal with whatever needed to be dealt with. So he bundled all those horrible thoughts, the possible future scenarios, and locked them up tight.
Her ringing phone provided some respite. After a brief conversation that mostly involved her listening to the caller, she hung up and said, “Grace needs me.” He simply nodded.
“I’ll drop you off.”
* * *
When they pulled up outside the studio, Kat swung from the car and then glanced back.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know how I go.”
“You sure you don’t want me there?” he asked for the third time, studying her face carefully as she leaned in.
She nodded. “Grace confided in me. I should be the one to tell her. And the sooner she knows the better.” Her ironic smile was brief. “Preempt that press statement I just know she’s been working on.”
He snorted but said nothing more, so she gave him a smile, said “Thanks” again and left.
But as she strode into the studio, her mind was still on the island, far from the Grace situatio
n. It was as if the time they’d spent there had been their own personal bubble. Now it was back to reality.
She sighed as she dug out her ID and then swept into the building. Time to focus on what she needed to tell Grace.
“Just say whatever comes into your head” had been Marco’s advice on the boat. And he was right. Some of her best stuff for The Tribune had been spontaneous and off-the-cuff. Too much rehearsing had felt overedited and scripted. This was one time where she didn’t want things to sound forced.
With a pounding heart, she clipped down the corridor straight to her office, grabbing a runner on the way to determine Grace’s whereabouts. She eventually ended up at the canteen, pausing in the doorway to scan the room, her eyes eventually landing on the TV star at a corner table with their executive producer.
Right. This was it. She took a deep breath and strode over, a smile on her face.
Grace spotted her a few feet away, and a second later she gasped and shot to her feet, commanding everyone’s attention.
“Kat! Oh, my God, it’s great to see you! How’ve you been?”
She was quickly enveloped in a warm Estee Lauder–scented hug, and then firmly cheek kissed. “You were so vague on the phone—you were with Marco on the island, right? Did the cyclone hit there or pass by? Was there much damage? Did you take photos? Sit and tell me everything!”
Acutely aware of the sudden attention, Kat went through the motions of nodding and smiling, accepting hugs and arm pats then thanking everyone for their good wishes until her face started to ache from the smiling. Finally, when the minor fuss had settled and everyone moved back to their tables, she leaned in to Grace.
“I need to talk to you. Privately.”
Grace’s unlined brow went up. “Sure. Let’s go into my office.”
It took a few minutes to get out of the canteen and then down the corridor. But finally they were in Grace’s vibrant yellow-and-blue office, the air smelling faintly of Estee Lauder’s Beautiful, her signature scent.
“So, what’s up, Kat?” Grace smiled curiously, closing the door behind her. “Did you want to run a new story idea past me?”
“No.” Kat eased onto the edge of the sofa, her insides churning. “It’s about Marco.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Boy, this was awkward, way more awkward than she’d thought. It was because it was Grace, someone she cared about. Someone who’d be hurt, no matter how skillful or pretty or unscripted her words were. It was personal this time, and she hated every single minute of it.
Still, she had to put on her big-girl knickers and get it done. So she took a breath and plunged right in.
“Grace. Marco and me...me and him... Well, we’re kind of...” Kind of what? Together? Bed partners? Having a baby? “Involved,” she finished lamely.
Oh, way to go. Put those media skills to great use there.
Silence reigned, somehow made thicker by the soft fragrance permeating the air, as the expression on Grace’s perfectly made-up face went through the emotions in a matter of seconds—amused surprise, confusion, disbelief—until she settled on a dark frown. “I’m sorry...what?”
“Marco and I are...involved.”
Grace slowly crossed her arms. “Yes, you said that. But what does that actually mean? You guys are always involved in one way or another.”
“We slept together.”
Grace’s eyes rounded. “What? When?”
Kat swallowed, her gaze firm. “Ten weeks ago, just before he left for France.” And these past few days... Although she didn’t need to spell that out, because judging from the look on Grace’s face, she’d already assumed that.
Grace’s slow blink and sudden laden silence said everything and yet nothing at all. So instead of elaborating, instead of trying to justify an action that had obviously cut deep, Kat waited.
Grace slowly sat down behind her desk then leaned back on the plush office chair, her face carefully blank. “I see. A little farewell private party, was it?”
“Grace...” Kat’s chest tightened. God, this was hard! “You two weren’t together at the time—”
“Oh, thanks for checking on that.” The brief grimace slashing Grace’s features twisted a little knife in Kat’s belly. “It makes me feel so much better.”
“I meant, I didn’t plan on—”
Grace held up a hand. “Stop. I really don’t need to know the details.” She paused, raking her gaze over Kat until the burn of humiliation and betrayal had formed a small pool of sweat at the base of her spine.
“You knew when I mentioned wanting a baby,” Grace finally said.
Kat nodded.
“And you said nothing.”
Kat nodded again. “And I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t know what to say. At that point, the thing with me and Marco was just a...a...one-time thing. We’d both decided to just ignore it and move on. But now, after these last few days, we’ve talked and it’s all become a bit more...um...complicated.”
“How?”
Kat flushed. “Just...complicated.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
The shock of having it put right out there made Kat gasp, and she had to scramble for a breath. “Wh—what?”
“Are you pregnant?” Grace repeated, her expression tight.
Because it was Grace, a person she admired and respected, a person she’d come to trust with parts of her personal life, Kat hesitated over her automatic denial. But it was the small hesitation that gave it away, gave Grace clear and direct confirmation. And when the older woman’s face creased into a small smile, Kat’s conflict grew a thousandfold.
Please don’t ask. I can barely wrap my head around it all myself...and the test results just totally screw everything up.
Kat bit her lip and slid her gaze away. “No comment.”
Silence descended for a few moments, silence in which Kat firmly swallowed every emotion she’d been battling the past day. Damn, she couldn’t lose it again. She wouldn’t lose it again. She’d had her moment of weakness with Marco, had let the overwhelming feelings command her, make her vulnerable. She couldn’t do it every single time someone mentioned it. Otherwise she’d just be a blubbering wreck on the floor.
Grace finally sighed and said, “I can’t deny I’m hurt, Kat.”
She grimaced. “I know. And I am really, really sorry about that. But it wasn’t planned. If there’s anything I can do to make it right for you...”
“An interview.”
Kat blinked, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“You can give me that interview we were talking about.” Grace stood swiftly, hands wide on her desk, a gleam in her eye.
Oh, wow. That was a bit... Kat’s head spun a little. “That’s...uh. No.”
“You’re still saying no?” Grace lifted her brow. “After what you’ve just told me? Knowing nothing in this business is kept a secret for long?” At Kat’s look of alarm, she waved a hand in the air. “Oh, honey, you should know by now it won’t be me leaking details to the press. But once others get involved, it’s inevitable.”
Kat remained silent as Grace gave her a long look, then fished out a makeup bag from her desk and went through the motions of reapplying lipstick. It was true. A secret was kept only by one person, and over the next few days more and more people would be involved, like it or not.
“The offer is still there,” Grace finally said, unplugging her phone and scrolling through her messages. “We’d do it your way, with your final approval. And you know I don’t often say that.”
Kat paused, trying to get everything straight in her head. “So you’re okay with the Marco thing?”
“No.” Grace smiled thinly.
She swallowed. “Grace...is this going to be awkward between us
?”
“Most likely.” The older woman eyed her, her expression still tight. “You denied it too much, you know. I always knew you had a thing—one that predates my claim—so I shouldn’t be that surprised.”
Kat swallowed her guilt, glancing away. “That’s not what—”
“Oh, please.” Grace rolled her eyes theatrically as she walked to the door and pulled it open. “Give me some credit here. You and Marco have always been a thing.”
Kat followed her out the door then down the corridor in silence, until Grace finally turned and eyed her. “So when are you going public?”
“If, Grace,” Kat said. “If we go public.”
Grace threw her a knowing look over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s a ‘when,’ hon. Trust me.”
Kat frowned. “That’s not something we’ve thought about.”
“Really?” Grace kept walking. “Well, you’d better start. Gossip has a way of getting out, you know.”
Kat stared at her back. Was that a threat? That definitely sounded like one. And to be honest, she couldn’t deny Grace her bitterness. If she could make this right with her, she’d gladly do it.
Even giving her an exclusive?
Ugh. That thought lay heavy in her gut for the rest of the afternoon, until she finally made her way home, barely made it through a shower and finally collapsed into a blissful sleep coma on her bed.
Eight
The next day Marco and Kat sat in Dr. Hardy’s waiting room, nervously waiting for her name to be called. Most structures in North Cairns had survived cyclone damage and it was still a surreal sight to see: half the town had been flattened while the other half stood tall and proud as if everything was normal.
Instead of offering empty it’ll-be-okays and you’ll-be-all-rights, he remained silent, loosely holding her hand, occasionally brushing her knuckles with his thumb as the minutes ticked by.
One minute.
Five.
Ten.
He glanced at the clock then scanned the pristine waiting room for the umpteenth time. Life still went on, despite the destruction outside. People still needed results, still needed diagnosing, needed to know what was wrong and how to fix it. Only a few people waited with them—a young couple, an elderly man, a woman with two small children—and briefly he wondered what each of their stories was, how they’d come to be here, right now. How they would cope with bad news, what they had vowed to change if the prognosis was good.