by Anne Oliver
‘Mel’s not here yet?’ He accepted a bottle of beer some woman—Sophie? Sylvie?—pressed into his hand.
‘No,’ Sophie/Sylvie said with a smile. ‘Would you like to wait in here for her?’
Good God, no.
‘She was supposed to come off duty at seven,’ Carissa said. ‘But there was a staffing problem, she didn’t get off till a couple of hours ago. She’ll be here soon, Luke.’
‘She worked last night and this morning? She’ll be knackered,’ he replied, incredulous that the hospital allowed such overtime. Not letting his eyes stray to that very distended belly beneath the patterned shirt. Conscious that the women knew he was uncomfortable. Wishing Ben were there to lead him to somewhere safe.
Wise man Ben was keeping his distance.
But no. As if his wish had been granted, Ben appeared in the kitchen doorway. His gaze slid over his wife’s belly, then lingered. ‘You feeling okay? No more twinges?’
‘No, I’m fine. Stop hovering. Luke’s here.’
Ben’s gaze swung towards him. ‘Hey, Luke.’ He beckoned with his beer bottle. ‘This way, mate.’
Luke couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He followed Ben outside and into the welcome afternoon sunshine.
‘This is some backyard,’ he said, taking in the lush lawn and young fruit trees, bare now, but come summer they’d be green and in a few years would provide shade. A row of eucalypts, their leaves glossy in the sun, screened the back of the property.
‘Great for kids,’ Ben said.
As in plural? ‘You intend to have more than one?’ Luke stared at him, wondering how this man, who’d been practically a music legend back in XL Rock’s days, could be a family man.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Ben grinned. ‘We want at least three.’
‘Jeez.’ Luke hid a shudder, thinking of Carissa’s belly again.
The thought of Melanie, pregnant with his child, slid through his mind before he could block it, and another more powerful sensation powered through him, leaving him dazed.
His child inside Mel. With dark hair and Mel’s misty grey eyes. Mischievous and full of life. Oh, yeah, he’d imagined getting her that way, but this time it was something much deeper.
He shook his head, took a long swig from his bottle and let the cold yeasty taste soothe his suddenly dry throat. Comforted himself with the thought that Mel wasn’t the maternal type. Single and loving it. Hadn’t she said it herself? Hadn’t she demonstrated that over and over?
‘How do you stand it?’ He gestured towards the house where the sounds of feminine laughter rippled on the air. ‘Seeing your wife like that and knowing what’s going to happen.’
‘Yeah.’ Ben’s expression sobered. ‘I wasn’t there when she lost the baby, so this’ll be a first for me. But watching her grow, following the baby’s progress…it’s really been an experience not to be missed.’
Luke nodded. All unfamiliar territory for him.
‘Carissa’s loved it,’ Ben went on. ‘Well, most of the time. It’s harder now, with a couple weeks left. But women seem to take it in their stride. They’re built for it, and I’ve never seen my wife look more beautiful. I can’t stop touching her, you know?’
No. Luke didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. ‘I don’t mind telling you it scares the bejeezus out of me.’
‘When you find the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with you’ll change your mind. Not the fear,’ he went on. ‘That’s natural, you don’t want to see the woman you love in pain while you watch damn helpless—but you’ll want to share a child, you want that connection.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Luke tossed him a look, but he doubted Ben heard—his eyes had already glazed over.
Luke blew out a breath and hunched his shoulders as a gust of wind shivered through the trees. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. ‘So what’s the work-in-progress?’ He indicated what looked like a partially constructed shed.
Ben came back from whatever planet he’d been on and said, ‘A kid’s cubby.’
‘Bit early, isn’t it?’
‘So I’ve been told.’ He took a gulp of his beer. ‘I always wanted one as a kid. Couldn’t afford it and Dad wouldn’t have motivated himself enough to build one. I’ll probably get as much pleasure out of it as the child.’
Luke eyed Ben with interest. Judging from the bitter tone, the hard jaw and harder eyes, Ben hadn’t gotten along with his dad. He’d grown up without money, so he’d made his fortune on his own.
‘Well, if Carissa kicks you out you can always use it as a doghouse.’
Ben laughed as if that notion was absurd before resuming his granite-eyed expression. ‘If there’s one thing I want to do in my life, it’s to be a good father.’
In the long silence that followed Luke sensed the man’s hard-edged determination. What constituted a good father? he asked himself. Was he judging his own unfairly? Or had Dad’s relentless push been based on purely self-motivated needs?
‘You and Mel got any plans?’ Ben finally asked with a sideways glance.
Plans? Mel lived for the day, the moment. She didn’t do plans. He shrugged, oddly uneasy with the way the question made him feel—hurt, empty. Alone. ‘You know Mel.’
‘Yeah. Loads of fun, but a dedicated workaholic.’
Luke made an effort at lightness. ‘You know the rule—work hard, play hard.’
‘With all the overtime she puts in, it doesn’t leave much time for play.’
One corner of Luke’s mouth tipped up at Ben’s lifted brow. ‘Oh, we make time.’
And when she did come out to play…
Luke’s mind spun back to their last playtime, in the parents’ library. Mel’s particular favourite—the adrenaline rush that came from knowing they might be caught out at any moment.
His body grew hard just thinking about it again. Oh, yeah, she knew how to play.
But was play enough?
Luke didn’t have time to ponder that because Mel pushed out of the back door with a plate of cupcakes rolled in jelly and coconut.
He watched her descend the steps with something close to pain around his heart at that first unexpected jolt of seeing her again. Wearing red thigh-high boots, an itty-bitty denim skirt and red jumper with yellow snowflakes cascading across her breasts, she looked like sunshine on a winter’s day and wore a smile to match.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘You made it.’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss my sister’s baby shower… Is something wrong?’
Not if you didn’t count the shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Now you’re here?’ He made a deliberate effort to smile. ‘Not a thing.’
‘Oh, good, ’cos I remembered how you love jelly cakes. I just made them and if I don’t bring you guys some now those vultures in there will devour them.’
‘You just made them? I thought you’d be taking a nap.’
‘No time. Besides, if I stop then I drop. Better to push on.’ She held out the plate. The aroma of fresh cake mingled with Mel’s fragrance.
‘We were just talking about play,’ he said, taking the plate and leaning into her neck for a better sample. Meeting her eyes with unspoken memories of the other night. ‘Ben and I agree you don’t have enough.’ Didn’t matter that Luke himself often put in eighteen-hour days; he wasn’t rushed off his feet with people’s lives in his hands.
‘Oh?’ Her eyes glinted with silver promises, her voice dropped to a husky tone that played havoc with Luke’s libido. ‘We can play later.’ She pressed a warm, hard kiss on his lips, whirled towards the door. ‘Gotta go.’
‘Was she always like that when you knew her before?’ Ben said as they watched the fly-screen door slap behind her.
‘Yep. A lightning ball of energy. Till she crashes, then it’s goodnight sleep tight.’ He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, but there was something different about Mel this time round.
Luke wondered how far that energy would extend tonight. He’d been lookin
g forward to some slow, get-serious love-making now that the initial burn had eased slightly.
Time to explore each other more fully, more intimately. Time to linger some more over the subtle changes, to reacquaint, to reconnect on a deeper level.
But tonight? The odds of exploring those changes were not in his favour.
* * *
‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you with some wine?’ Ben paused, his bottle of Merlot poised over Luke’s glass.
Luke covered his glass with a hand. ‘No thanks, mate, I’m driving.’
The afternoon’s party had finished an hour ago. Only Melanie remained and Luke wasn’t leaving without her.
At the moment, Mel was nibbling on a party sausage roll, her attention wholly focused on Carissa. Which made Luke exceedingly nervous.
Ben moved to Melanie’s side. ‘Are you sure you won’t try some, Mel?’
She glanced up at Ben. ‘I’m right, thanks.’
‘This is exquisite wine, purchased at great expense—don’t tell me you don’t want at least a taste.’
‘Sorry, Ben, if I drink now I’ll never make it home.’
And Luke very much wanted her home. Tucked up in bed beside him. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said.
‘Good.’ She slid him a potent look. ‘Need to keep alert, then, don’t I?’
He sat back with a sigh of anticipation. His place or hers, it didn’t matter. He’d let her sleep as long as she needed because when she woke he wanted her as hungry for him as he was for her.
Right now though he was practically salivating over the last piece of black cherry cheesecake—there were different kinds of hunger.
‘For heaven’s sake, it’s yours.’ Melanie slid the entire cream-messed plate his way, then shot her sister a concerned look. ‘Carrie?’
‘Fine.’ Carissa smiled, glanced at the digital display on the entertainment unit.
‘You’ve been watching that clock for a while now,’ Melanie said. ‘I want to know why.’
‘It’s nothing. Just those Braxton Hicks contractions…’
‘Contractions?’ Luke felt his pulse speed up.
Ben was beside Carissa in an instant, his hands on her belly. ‘Sweetheart, anything I can get you?’
‘I’m all right.’ She laughed and turned to Luke. ‘It’s okay, Luke, they’re not painful and don’t mean you’re in labour.’
‘Please don’t say that word.’
‘I never took Luke for a coward, did you, Mel?’
‘No, but maybe I misjudged him.’ She didn’t spare him a glance. ‘How far apart are those contractions?’
‘Oh…a while…’
‘Let me know if they become regular or more frequent. Do you want to ring the hospital and talk to them?’
‘No. I’m not due for twelve days.’
‘Doesn’t mean a thing. Lots of women have said that right before they went into labour. At least come and sit on the sofa, you’ll be more comfortable.’
‘If I can ever get up again once I’m down there,’ Carissa complained.
‘You’ve got Ben to help you—men have to be useful for something, after all, he was the one that got you this way in the first place.’
‘Yes.’ She smiled at her husband, who smiled right back, but there was more devilment than dreams in those twinkling green eyes.
Carissa pushed up slowly and made her way to the sofa, sat with a sigh.
‘Give me your feet.’
Luke watched Melanie’s capable fingers slip Carissa’s shoes off and begin a slow rhythmic massage. He couldn’t repress an inward groan.
Not so long ago on that memorable getaway weekend she’d worked those fingers over his temples and neck. He was still waiting for her to work that slow sensual magic on other parts. Fast and furious was the only speed they knew at present.
‘Did you see what Melanie brought us for the baby, Ben?’ She pointed to the decorated basket on the piano. ‘It’s just the cutest little outfit you ever saw. And the purple stuffed koala with the joey on its back.’
‘Yep, I can see Melanie’s colour scheme here.’ Ben tossed the little koala to Carissa.
‘I could’ve got fur, but this one’s washable. That’s only for starters,’ Melanie said, working her way up Carissa’s calves. ‘When we know the sex, I’ll be buying up big time. There was this owl clock that blinks the seconds with big numbers so you can teach the time… Carrie?’
Luke’s eyes switched to Carissa. She wasn’t listening to Mel; her gaze was focused inward. As he watched she seemed to tense then let out an unsteady breath. He saw Mel put her palm on Carissa’s belly.
‘I need…Ben, help me up, I think I need…’
‘Carrie?’
‘I think my water just broke. There was a ping…’ She let out a groan and clutched her sister’s hand.
Luke felt the blood drain from his face.
Ben was beside his wife in three quick strides.
Mel switched to professional mode in the blink of an eye. ‘Ben, ring the hospital, tell them we’re on our way. Just how far apart are those contractions you’ve been timing, Carrie?’
‘Two minutes, one minute. They weren’t painful, I didn’t think—’
‘Ben, change of plans. Ring an ambulance.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘LUKE—’ MELANIE glanced at him and he could almost see her eyes roll heavenward. ‘Go outside and wait for the ambulance.’
He was forced to admit it—he was glad to escape. Standing on the front porch, he strained his ears for any sign of a siren. How long did a damn ambulance take anyway?
‘Ben-n-n…!’
His gut twisted at the sound of Carissa’s anguished cry. Sweat snaked down his back. Imagining Mel going through this. For him… Suddenly it was as clear as sun through crystal: there’d never been another woman he’d wanted to make a baby with—it had only ever been about Melanie.
* * *
Melanie could have wept at the sound of the ambulance pulling up outside. In seconds two paramedics pushed through the door, loaded Carissa into the ambulance with a white-faced Ben beside her, and suddenly, after all the commotion, it was…quiet.
‘Well…’ She turned to Luke, trailed off, seeing him slumped against a pole, his complexion a bilious shade of green. Her heart melted, and, with her maternal instincts already painfully aroused, she reached out to him. ‘Oh, Luke, honey…’
He pushed her hand away and for a millisecond his eyes flashed to hers. Pride and humiliation. She let him go, watching him weave his way inside with an ache that warmed her from the inside out.
A tense hour later, Ben rang Melanie with the news. Another hour passed before she and Luke were allowed into Carissa’s room.
She saw her sister sitting up in bed, cradling her newborn infant, and wanted to weep. Tears of joy, with a few scattered through for a quiet sadness she’d come to terms with and accepted. ‘Hi,’ she whispered.
Carissa looked up, motherhood shining through her glazed eyes. ‘Hi, you two!’
Ben gave a quick heads-up at the exchange, his attention focused on his wife and child.
‘Come over here right now,’ Carissa said, her voice scratchy and breathless.
Melanie wasted no time launching herself across the room to kiss her sister and get her first up-close look at the little miracle. ‘You almost didn’t make it here in time.’
‘But we did, and everything’s fine.’
‘We have a son.’ Ben’s voice cracked on the last word. His hands weren’t quite steady as he reached down to pick up the dark-haired, red-faced little mite from his mother’s arms.
The sight of such a big man with the tiny fragile bundle against his chest brought a swift and powerful lurch to Melanie’s pulse. The thought of Luke cradling a baby they’d made together crept through her veins and stole softly into her heart.
Ben tucked the blue flannelette beneath the baby’s chin. ‘Say hello to Robert Baxter Jamieson.’
‘Luke, lo
ok.’ She turned to see Luke hesitating near the door. For a brief moment she saw something cross his expression as he focused on mother and child. Happiness? Regret? Hope?
The same emotions echoed within her. She wanted to reach out and tell him all her own regrets and hopes for the future. A future with him. Her head spun with those thoughts; the joy of this birth would make it so much harder for him to hear of her own loss.
He hesitated. ‘This is a family time…’
‘You’re a part of this,’ she said gently, smiling at him through blurry eyes. ‘Come and meet my nephew.’
Luke’s whole demeanour softened as he got his first close-up look. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, his voice sounding oddly strained as he touched a finger to the tiny head. ‘He’s something, isn’t he?’
‘Doesn’t he have the most beautiful eyes?’
‘Look at those musician’s fingers.’
Questions and compliments flowed and the joyful celebration lasted a full five minutes before a nurse came to check on mother and baby—a signal for Melanie and Luke to leave.
Luke drove Melanie back to her apartment. The moment she entered the door she bustled about her kitchen, cleaning up the mess from her cooking stint earlier. Her feet were numb, her brain number, she hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, but she was floating through some sort of euphoric haze. She was an auntie. Even more wonderful, Carissa was a mother at last.
‘Come on, Melanie, leave the dishes. It’s bedtime.’
She glanced around at the sound of that deep voice and found Luke leaning against the door jamb.
But something else stopped her in her tracks.
It wasn’t the expected lust she saw in his eyes, which might have earned him a ‘forget it, I’m bushed’. Although she doubted she’d have refused, even if it had been only about mutual needs and wants, because tonight she needed. Desperately.
No, it was something more, something deeper. A deeper respect perhaps? For women and women’s work, for her career? Or was it as simple as Melanie Sawyer?
Her heart swelled and tumbled, her nose prickled. Holding that deep dark gaze with hers, she crossed to him. Touched his stubbled jaw, breathed in his masculine sweat-tainted shirt. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? A baby.’