by Julie Mac
Ben smiled. He was exhausted, but this beautiful woman in his arms invigorated him.
He loved the way her silver‐blue eyes mirrored her every emotion when she was with him.
He’d seen the sadness lift when she finally grasped the fact that he really was on the right side of the law. And now the silky veil had returned.
He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, then drew back fractionally, murmuring, “Still doing the head prefect thing, huh? Always looking ahead, foreseeing possible obstacles and outcomes?”
“Stop mucking me around, Ben Carter.” She wriggled in his grasp again, but only half heartedly, he noted.
“I know what can happen in these circumstances,” she said. “You’ll have to go away and then we can never be together.”
He lifted a hand to brush back a springy red‐gold curl from her face. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but she must have done it in a hurry, because little bits had escaped all around her face. He wanted to take each one in his fingers and play with it.
“Is that a proposal of marriage?” he asked. He saw the confusion in her eyes and tried not to laugh out loud.
“No! Just a simple statement of fact.”
“And if I did have to go away, disappear to some remote place, would you come with me?” He asked the question quietly, watching her expressive eyes as he spoke, and saw her thought processes playing out in front of him. He had a fair idea of the sort of obstacles she was sifting through in her mind: if she and Dylan came with him, they could live happily ever after, a proper family in a safe place. But then she’d have to leave behind her newly found dad. Dylan would have to leave his school and all his friends. She’d have to find another job.
Julie Mac
Then, her eyes cleared, her intent plain. “Yes.” She breathed in deeply. “Yes, Ben, now that I’ve found you again, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to. I love you Ben, I always have.”
He felt an odd weakness in his legs and his eyes were suddenly prickly. Must be fatigue. So she wouldn’t see, he closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her velvety softness long and hard.
When he came up for air, he saw her eyes were dreamy. “We’ll get married,” he murmured. It was a statement, not a question. And then, “I won’t have to leave the country.
That’s what I was talking about with my boss when you came in. My cover wasn’t blown.”
“Yes,” she said in a breathy whisper, a little smile turning up the corner of her lips.
Yes to getting married, or yes to his cover not being blown? Either would do just fine, he decided, and continued, “A lot of my work is—was—in surveillance, planting devices in houses, offices and cars. There was always a risk I’d be caught in the act, but it never happened. We’d roll up in a plumber’s van—” he smiled when he saw her eyes widen “—or a delivery truck, do the business and be off. When I made contact, texting or face to face, buying from dealers, selling sometimes, I worked with an assumed identity and managed reasonable disguises. Those were always one‐off contacts. I wasn’t like the guys that go undercover for deep infiltration. That gang you saw me with—”
“Tell me about it later.” She looked away from him, stared out the window for a moment, then swung her eyes back to him.
“Right now there’s something I have to tell you.”
Anxiety creased her brow. He wanted to kiss the frown away, tell her he knew.
But the words had to come from her.
“Dylan…” She put her hand up to fiddle with her hair, and cleared her throat, then it all came out in a rush, “Dylan’s your son, Ben.”
“I know, my darling. And a beautiful little fella he is, too. He’ll make a great page boy at our wedding, don’t you think?”
He laughed out loud when her eyes flew wide, and then he smothered her demands of, “How did you know? When did you know?” with a very long kiss.
A Father at Last
Chapter 12
Albert Park, in the city’s central business district, was a cool haven on a summer’s day. Ben and his mother walked side by side up the steep path, under the shade of the big old trees that spread their branches wide.
They reached the band rotunda, climbed the steps and stood by the rails, surveying the green oasis of the park before them.
Meeting in Albert Park was nothing new; his mum worked in the city, and often in the past she’d grabbed some takeaway coffee and muffins for both of them and walked up the hill to join him for a chat at lunchtime.
But today, she seemed on edge.
She wasted little time on small talk. He thought it was because his injury yesterday, though of no consequence, had upset her. Then she spoke.
“Do you remember when you rang me the other day, I told you that your father and I loved you?”
“Sure do, Mum.”
“I said ‘father’, Ben, and I was talking about Charlie, not Evan Smith.”
“Yeah, Mum, I knew who you meant. You were stressed—and anyway, you never talk about my real father, my blood father, ever, so I understood what you were saying.”
“I don’t think you did.”
She turned to him. “I’m so sorry, Ben.” She sounded sad. “Yesterday, when I heard you’d been injured, I knew it was time to be honest. Evan Smith is not your father—never was.”
“What?” He studied her eyes, and knew that she spoke the truth.
He sucked in a deep, slightly shaky breath, and turned to look out at the park, his grip on the rail tight. The orange marigolds in the bed in front of the rotunda suddenly looked a thousand times brighter.
“I fell in love with Charlie the very first time I saw him, even though I was engaged to Evan at the time.” Her voice was more confident now. “I’d gone to Sydney for a holiday with some of the girls from work. We met this bunch of Kiwi soldiers who were in Sydney on Julie Mac
leave from their peace keeping duties in the Middle East.”
She stopped talking, so Ben turned to her again and took one of her hands in his. “Go on, Mum.”
Her hand tightened around his. “Charlie and I clicked instantly. On the last night of our holiday, well…” His mother blushed and looked away.
“It’s okay, Mum,” said Ben . “I’m getting the picture—at least I think I am.”
Hope kindled in his chest, and then it spread, like the brightest flame, as he listened to his mother’s next words.
“I came home, and found I was pregnant with Charlie’s baby. I confessed to Evan, and told him I couldn’t marry him. I knew by then that I didn’t love him, not properly. But he insisted we marry—I think he saw easy dollars because my parents had a business that was making lots of money at the time. And anyway, Charlie had returned to the Middle East and wouldn’t be finishing his tour of duty for a couple of years. I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
Ben shook his head. “Sleeping dogs should always be woken, Mum.”
She looked up, the start of a smile on her lips.
“You’re not angry?”
“Hell, no! Does Charlie know?”
“I think he does, but I’ve never spoken to him about it.” His mum looked embarrassed again.
He took both her hands then, and held them tight. “Talk to him today, Mum. Make sure he knows.”
She nodded, tears running down her cheeks.
But Ben wasn’t crying. His heart was singing.
A Father at Last
Epilogue
Seven months later
The little girl held Kelly’s hand and chatted happily as they walked down the path towards the visitors’ area at the prison.
“Do you think Dad will like the picture I drew for him?” she asked, waving the cardboard cylinder in her other hand.
“He’ll love it, sweetheart,” said Kelly, smiling down at the child. She’d looked at the picture before they’d left for the prison, and the girl had explained it to her in detail—not that it wasn’t totally self‐expl
anatory.
“This is a picture of our family for Dad to put on the wall in his cell,” she’d said.
“See—here’s Mum and Dad, and me and my baby brother and our puppy. I put Dad in the picture so he’d know that even though he’s in prison, he’s with us at home in a way.
Mummy says he’s with us in our hearts.”
She’d said it totally matter‐of‐factly, and Kelly had turned away so the little girl wouldn’t see the tears that sprang to her eyes.
Behind her now, as they walked down the path, Kelly could hear Ben and her father chatting to the two teenage boys, aged twelve and fourteen, visiting their father for the first time in prison. “What are we going to say to him?” the younger boy asked worriedly.
“Does he follow rugby?” her father asked.
“Yeah, he’s mad on it,” the older boy replied.
So her father and Ben primed them with a steady supply of rugby‐centric conversation openers.
She stopped at a junction in the path. One way led to the minimum security area, where she and the little girl were going, the other to the maximum security wing where the others were headed.
The men and boys caught up and Ben stepped close to her. “You’re sure you’re okay to do this, Mrs Carter?”
She loved it when he fussed over her. “I’m fine. And so is baby.” She smiled and rested her hand briefly on her baby bulge.
“That’s my girl.” He leaned in and kissed her briefly on the lips.
The End
Julie Mac
ISBN: [ISBN]
Title: A Father At Last
Copyright © 2013 by Julie Mac
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Document Outline
Chapter 1 Seventeen years later
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue Seven months later
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
