Her Miracle Baby

by Fiona Lowe

  ‘Will.’ Eleanor’s voice held a plea. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Meg that I’m thinking about selling the farm.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘I promise. I’ll leave that to you. I’ll only tell her you broke your hip.’

  He only hoped she would tell Meg sooner than later.

  Meg rubbed her aching eyes and tried to focus on the bills that needed to be paid. It had been a long, long Saturday. All her plans for a final weekend with Will had faded after Eleanor’s accident. She’d spent the day visiting her mother in Winston hospital. The surgery had gone well and physiotherapy had started, but Eleanor would have to stay in Winston for quite a few weeks.

  Jet sat by her side, her chin resting on top of Meg’s feet in a cosy, comforting way. The house seemed eerily quiet. Without her mother there during the day, she’d had to cancel the last few bookings of the season so the usual chatter of guests had been silenced.

  She glanced at the clock. Will had said he’d be home by seven. He’d been elusive about where he was going but he was a free agent, it was his day off, so he could go wherever he liked. She didn’t have to know. Yeah, right, you desperately want to know.

  But she had no right to ask. They weren’t really together, they just shared an amazing short-term attraction.

  His time in Laurelton was almost over. He’d promised three weeks and he’d delivered. She expected his departure any day. He hadn’t mentioned it and she hadn’t brought the subject up. It was almost as if they believed if it wasn’t spoken of it wouldn’t happen.

  But it would happen and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

  The last few days—apart from the worry about her mother—had been wonderful. They’d had the farmhouse to themselves, made love in almost every room, cooked meals together and shared the home paddock tasks. And they’d argued over the sections of the paper, just like other couples.

  They’d been a couple.

  The thought exploded inside her, stunning her. But they weren’t a couple. He was leaving. She was staying.

  Focus on the things you can control. Meg opened the cheque-book and systematically paid the bills, finding a sense of security in the orderliness of the paperwork. After banging the last stamp on an envelope she pulled over the bank statement and started to reconcile her mother’s cheque-book.

  She looked at her first attempt of adding up the row of figures. She blinked a couple of times. She must be more tired than she’d thought. She pressed the calculator’s ‘on’ button and re-entered the figures.

  The same number she’d calculated mentally came up on the screen.

  A feeling of dread crawled over her skin. She pulled over the manila folder with previous bank statements. Riffling though each one, she saw that each month the overdraft had been extended further and further.

  Her mother had never said a thing. Had never asked her for more money. Meg had assumed the B&B was at least covering costs. She found an envelope with the bank’s letterhead attached to the back of a statement. With trembling hands she withdrew the sheet of paper.

  It was a letter of default. Unless a significant amount was paid off the farm’s mortgage, the farm would have to be sold.

  Bile rose in her throat. Her farm. First she’d lost the dream to fill the house with children. Now it looked like she would lose the farm completely.

  The front doorbell rang. Startled, Meg quickly shoved the paperwork into the manila folder. She wasn’t expecting anyone and Will always used the back door.

  She walked down the long hall. For a brief moment she thought she could smell jasmine rice but discounted that as a ridiculous thought. She pulled open the door.

  Will’s smiling face greeted her, his laughter at her confusion enveloping her as he pulled her into his arms. ‘Do you fancy Thai food?’

  ‘Sure, but not the three-hour drive to get it.’ She let herself be wrapped in his arms, soaking up his touch, letting it ward off reality and the pain of what she’d just discovered.

  ‘I ordered in.’

  He spun her around and walked her toward the lounge room. Opening the door, he ushered her through. An open fire glowed in the grate, giving off waves of heat. Scented candles, their wicks burning brightly, sat at intervals along the mantelpiece, their aroma of sandalwood filling the room.

  Two large cushions waited next to the coffee-table, which was covered in steaming bowls of fragrant Thai food. The pungent smell of fresh coriander assaulted her nostrils. Two glasses of champagne stood invitingly, the tiny bubbles whizzing up the length of the flutes.

  Wonder and surprise rolled through her. ‘I thought I could smell jasmine rice.’ She laughed. ‘How did you organise the food and set the room up?’

  He smiled a secret smile. ‘I’ve got contacts.’

  ‘I bet you have.’ She said the words lightly but she knew he would have contacts. She’d seen him in action both in Laurelton and Melbourne. Will Cameron commanded a certain amount of power when he wanted to use it.

  ‘Sit.’ He gestured to the cushions.

  She sat as commanded.

  He sat down next to her and handed her a glass of champagne. He tilted his glass and clinked it against hers. ‘To surviving.’

  She knew what he meant but sadness settled over her as she matched his words. She drank, letting the bubbles fizz on her tongue. She could think of many other things to toast, such as ‘To three wonderful weeks’, or ‘To friendship’, but she understood why he’d said survival. He’d never made her a promise of anything more than these few weeks.

  Before she could dwell too long on the words, Will started to fill her bowl with a myriad of amazing foods.

  He handed her a fork and a spoon. ‘Aren’t you glad it’s Thai and you don’t have to cope with chopsticks?’

  She laughed. ‘I always end up with more food in my lap than in my mouth and I wouldn’t want to waste any of this. It smells delicious.’

  For a few minutes they focused on the food, eating in companionable silence. There wasn’t a Thai restaurant within a three-hour drive from Laurelton so she had no idea how he’d produced the meal but she was pretty certain all the effort in surprising her meant he was leaving. ‘So, you’re off to Melbourne?’ She tried not to sound the way she really felt—needy and sad—but upbeat and conversational.

  He put his empty plate down on the table and picked up her hand. ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  A tiny tear ripped in her heart. ‘Well, I guess your dad needs you back at the helm.’

  He nodded. ‘My crash-recovery leave is over. I belong back in Melbourne.’ His expression was almost neutral, betrayed only by the air of tension that she remembered being part of him when he’d first arrived in Laurelton.

  She raised her brows. ‘In a job where there isn’t a patient in sight?’

  ‘In a job where I can meet my family responsibilities and fund medical research so kids like Josh can be saved.’ His clipped tone was back. The tone he developed whenever their discussion moved around to his job.

  She leaned forward. ‘Will, you’re sensational with kids, you should be working at the coalface. Surely what you’re doing now can be done by someone else?’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘It’s not that hard. You hand over the reins and you go back to your specialisation and qualify.’

  He suddenly brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm, his lips and tongue working their magic.

  Liquid heat poured through her and her knees wobbled, even though she wasn’t standing. Somehow, through this fog of desire she recognised his behaviour. Whenever they’d talked about his job and she’d pressed him about it, he’d changed the subject or pelted her with snowballs. She wouldn’t let him get away with it this time.

  ‘Will?’

  His lips were now raining kisses along her forearm. He didn’t stop, just mumbled, ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Explain to me “family responsibilities”.’

  He stiffened and met her gaze, the desire in his eyes clear
ing. ‘You’re not going to let me seduce you before I tell you, are you?’ He dropped her hand.

  ‘Probably not, no.’

  A quick frown creased his brow, and then cleared. He spoke lightly. ‘That’s pretty strong bargaining power, although what if I chose not to seduce you and kept the information to myself?’

  She put her hand on his knee and trailed her fingers slowly upward along his inner thigh. ‘You could do that.’

  His hand swooped, covering hers, stopping it on its trail upward to his groin. ‘You strike a hard bargain.’ With his other hand he picked up his champagne and downed the remains.

  ‘Dad almost died from kidney failure. He’d been on the transplant list for a long time. I was a match to be a donor but both my parents refused to accept that gift. Instead, Dad asked me for my help in another way, my help to run the company until he was well again.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t refuse him that. I’m glad I didn’t. For the first time in my life I’ve really got to know my father. I genuinely like him. We get along pretty well.’

  Family ties bound tightly, Meg knew that. She could see the attraction of taking the opportunity to get close to a man who had been a relatively absent father. Perhaps his father was enjoying a similar relationship with his son. ‘When did your father get his transplant?’

  ‘Four months ago, and he’s doing pretty well now.’

  From the moment she’d met Will he’d had an air of discontent about him and she was certain it was tied up with him leaving medicine, despite the fact he’d told her the job at Camerons was going well. She didn’t hold back, she wanted to get to the bottom of this. ‘So technically he’s healthy enough to take over the running of Camerons again?’

  He dropped her hand and his voice became defensive. ‘Yes and no. He gets tired. I said I’d stay until he could do the job again.’

  Meg remembered the frail-looking man who had collected Will after the crash. ‘What if he’s never well enough to take over?’

  He stiffened. ‘Sometimes your family needs you. Dad asked for help. You’re making it sound all bad. It’s not. I’m still involved in medicine through KKC.’ He shrugged as if this wasn’t a big deal. ‘I’m helping in a different way. Sometimes our dreams have to deviate from our original plan.’

  He fixed her with a long stare. ‘But I’m not telling you anything new about that, am I? Your dream was to have this farmhouse full of children, the way it was when you were a kid.’

  His words struck home. She nodded, amazed he’d worked that out about her. ‘This house used to be so alive with the high spirits of children.’ She pushed her jaw out slightly. ‘It still is in the school holidays.’

  ‘But it isn’t your original plan, is it?’ He raised his brows as if to say, So don’t give me grief about my change. His voice developed a caring softness. ‘How viable is your plan to keep the farm going?’

  Her mind darted back to the manila folder on the kitchen table. ‘Just because some things take a lot of hard work and determination, it doesn’t mean they’re not worth doing. This farm has been in my family for a long time and I’m not going to be the Watson that loses it.’ She clenched her fist. ‘I think I’d do just about anything to keep the farm.’

  A flash of something she couldn’t totally read raced across his face. Was it sympathy? There was no reason for sympathy so she’d obviously misread it.

  ‘But you said your brothers aren’t interested in the farm, and now Eleanor’s health is failing.’

  A wave of concern started to break inside her but she stomped on it. She and her mother were a team. ‘Mum broke her hip, which will heal. The physio said she’ll be fine to come home. It’s not like her MS has got worse. Besides, Mum wouldn’t consider living anywhere else.’

  He looked as if he was going to speak, but instead he ran his fingers down her cheek. ‘This is our last night together, so why are we talking?’ He pulled her into his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘I was in the middle of seducing you before you rudely interrupted.’

  His mouth joined hers in a kiss. A coaxing, sweet kiss, almost innocent in its intent, sending showers of joy cascading inside her, driving away her need to talk.

  She let his mouth play against her own, savouring every part of the kiss, letting it flow over her, memorising it in all its wondrous detail. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, caressing and teasing, making her body melt against his.

  She opened her mouth to him, needing to experience his tongue dancing with hers, wanting his taste of champagne and desire to flood her. Willing the kiss to last for ever.

  Knowing it couldn’t.

  But they had all night.

  ‘Do you want to stay here?’ His words murmured against her mouth.

  The candles and the fire glowed, warming the room, making it a haven from the real world she had to face tomorrow. Tonight she could imagine she lived in her beloved home with the man of her dreams. ‘Yes, here is good.’ She lay back on the cushions and pulled him with her.

  He tortured her with his tongue, driving her need for him to fever pitch. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

  ‘You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this to you all day.’ His husky voice washed over her.

  ‘I’ve wanted it, too.’ She kissed him hard, as if the pressure would change everything and stop him from leaving.

  Farewell lovemaking should be slow. It should be languid and unrushed, something to treasure in the long evenings ahead that faced her.

  But it wasn’t.

  They came together in a rush of tangled clothes, unsated need and a desperate ache for connectedness.

  She gasped when he entered her, arching up to meet him, needing him inside her, gripping him and making him part of her.

  Completing her.

  Together they rose on a spiral of overwhelming pleasure until they shattered and floated back down to earth, holding each other tightly.

  As they lay beside the fire, Will pulled a blanket over them and cuddled her close, likes spoons in a drawer. His strong arms encasing her just like they had in the snow cave a few short weeks before.

  She loved being in his arms.

  She loved him.

  The thought sneaked in and exploded in her head. No! She couldn’t love him. He was leaving. His life was in Melbourne, tangled up in his sense of duty and his family’s business. She couldn’t offer him anything. He didn’t want a relationship.

  They were each other’s ‘post-trauma’ recovery programmes.

  This was supposed to have been something to banish the unsettled feelings after the crash, to make her feel like a woman again.

  But it was so much more.

  She’d fallen in love despite her best intentions not to. But how could she have stayed aloof from this caring doctor, this wonderful man and amazing lover? He brightened her day. He was the last thing she thought about at night and the first thing she thought of when she woke, and he filled her dreams in between.

  And tomorrow he would leave her house, but not her heart.

  Surviving the crash suddenly seemed easy.

  Will snuggled against Meg’s body, marvelling at how the curve of her bottom fitted so snugly against him. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.

  He knew he had to leave. The text messages notifying him of the board meeting had called him back to work.

  It amazed him that Meg had never asked him to stay longer. Taylor had done everything in her power to keep him by her side, keep her financial security close. But Meg had only asked him to stay and provide her town with a medical service. And he’d grown to love Laurelton and the people. He’d make sure he visited, and not just during the snow season.

  He tucked some stray hair from her face, his fingers caressing her temple. ‘You know I have to go back.’

  She stiffened for a moment. ‘We never planned for more than this.’

  ‘No.’ The word hung between them. But what else was there to say? What about ‘Come with me’?
/>   A piece of firewood popped loudly in the silence.

  Meg spoke softly. ‘You’re saving kids in your way, I’m saving the farm. We would never have even given each other a second glance if the plane hadn’t crashed. This is the way it’s meant to be.’

  A sense of unease ran through him at her words. Was it the way it was meant to be? A brief interlude in their lives?

  The conviction he’d always had about leaving suddenly started to tremble on shaky ground.

  His phone vibrated, displaying the company secretary’s number. Damn.

  His life had been reduced to triage—difficult choices, limited outcomes and a hell of a lot of pain.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EXTREME fatigue clung to Meg like a blanket. Every action she took felt like wading through mud. And sleep, what was that? She’d spent fourteen nights tossing and turning, missing Will’s arms and legs wrapped around her, missing the soothing sound of his regular breathing, missing him completely.

  Nausea rolled through her. Tonight she must sleep. She couldn’t function much more like this, and as much as she wanted to curl up, too many people depended on her. Laurelton needed her, her mother needed her and the farm needed more than she knew how to give.

  She sighed and parked her car in the visitors’ car park at the Winston rehabilitation unit. Eleanor had moved from the ward to Rehab a few days ago to focus on her physiotherapy, with the aim of coming home.

  With a start, Meg remembered she must make an appointment with the occupational therapist to arrange for rails and bars to be installed in her mother’s bathroom. She jotted the note in her diary among the mass of different coloured sticky notes. Reminders that threatened to swamp her. Again the urge to curl up and ignore everything pulled hard.

  Bright, cheery curtains fluttered in the spring breeze as she walked along the corridor to Eleanor’s room, clutching flowers, clean clothes and the manila folder that held the fate of the farm. Why had her mother let things get to this point?