And then Freya managed to drag in air in an embarrassingly noisy, gulping gasp, so loud that the others all stared at her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I got a shock.’
‘And I should apologise for dropping the news on you out of the blue.’ Seb’s smile was gentle.
The shoe was well and truly on the other foot, Freya realised, and she didn’t like it at all.
‘I didn’t want to say anything until I found out if I was suitable,’ Seb went on. ‘But my blood group is O positive, which means I’m pretty much anybody’s when it comes to matching, and now I’ve passed all the other health checks as well. We would need to talk to your renal specialist, of course, Pearl, but the doctors I’ve spoken to seem to think I should be fine to donate.’
‘But there’s no need,’ protested Freya. ‘I’m perfectly —’
Seb raised a hand to halt her. ‘I think we all agree that you’ve already been very generous, Freya.’
Pearl and Troy both nodded.
‘But this is different,’ she said.
‘It is,’ Seb agreed. ‘Pearl’s health is the most important issue here. And an important fact I’ve learned is that males often make better kidney donors than females.’
‘Goodness,’ said Pearl.
The room was silent now as they absorbed this. The only sound came from parrots bickering in a palm tree outside. And now tears glistened in Pearl’s eyes, and Troy, who had his arm around her shoulders, looked close to tears, too.
Freya, quite sideswiped, slumped in her chair. She wasn’t sure what to think or feel. So many emotions and thoughts churned through her. Seb’s offer was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. It was crazy. He was prepared to undergo major surgery. For her sister’s sake.
And for my sake, too.
She knew this was so. Seb wanted to protect her, to save her from possible danger in the future. And while he’d never actually told her that he loved her – not in so many words – she was all too aware that mere words could be hollow. Brian had claimed to love her when he clearly hadn’t. This action, however, this offer of Seb’s spoke more loudly than words ever could.
It was some time before the profuse thanks and tears and hugs were over. Seb would make an appointment with Pearl to see her specialist in Brisbane, and now Pearl and Troy, overwhelmed and grateful, had gone home.
Freya and Seb lingered on the restaurant’s deck, leaning against the balustrade, arms on the railing, elbows touching as they looked out to the sleepy bay.
‘I’ve never played chess,’ Freya said, watching a majestic eagle circle the headland. ‘But I suppose this is what it feels like to be checkmated.’
Seb frowned. ‘You think this was some kind of contest?’
‘Actually, no. Sorry. I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just that you caught me out completely. I never dreamed you’d do such an amazing thing.’
‘Perhaps I know a woman who has set me a very good example.’
A rush of emotion filled her then, happiness tangled with gratitude and fear. Please stay safe, Seb. I can’t lose you again.
A fresh breeze washed in from the sea, bringing the scents of salt and coral, and blowing her hair over her face. As she tucked it behind her ear, she smiled at him. ‘And perhaps I know a shining gem of a man.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Billie had found the cutest little A-frame house available for rent. It wasn’t a unit in a block of flats, but a tiny standalone house set back behind a wonderful jungle of a garden. With its own small deck, it offered a kitchen, living room and bathroom on the ground floor and a loft bedroom above.
‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ she enthused to Freya, whom she’d invited to accompany her for an inspection.
Freya eyed the narrow ladder up to the bedroom. ‘Would you really want to scale that thing with a baby in your arms?’
Billie wasn’t prepared to admit that she’d asked herself this very question. She wanted this house. She loved it so much more than any of the flats she’d seen, which were all too small, or too shabby or too close to noisy pubs and bars.
‘I can carry the baby in one of those slings,’ she said. ‘It would be quite safe.’
‘But what about when your little one starts to crawl and climb?’
‘I’d have one of those gates at the top of the ladder and – I don’t know – a playpen or something at the bottom.’
‘Hmmm.’ Freya still didn’t look too impressed, which was rather annoying. Fussing over a ladder was the sort of protest Billie expected from her parents. And avoiding such quibbles was one of the main reasons she’d delayed this inspection until they were away in Brisbane with Seb for their pre-surgery interview at the hospital.
Billie had hoped Freya might enjoy the distraction from worrying about Seb, but she’d also hoped her aunt might be an ally, and fall in love with this little house. In so many ways, it was perfect – private and affordable and cute as pie.
She could absolutely see herself and Pickle living here. It was close to her parents, but not too close. And she’d been reading on the internet about the tiny house movement that was growing in popularity all over the world, as part of a shift away from the consumerist mindsets of the past. It seemed there were countless reasons why she could feel good about living here.
Why should one little ladder be a problem? She’d be careful.
‘What about when you’re in the last few weeks of your pregnancy?’ Freya asked now in a stern voice that was totally out of character. ‘It won’t be long now before you find yourself growing absolutely enormous.’
‘But I won’t be feeble.’
Freya still shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Billie. I think this place is very sweet. I can understand the appeal and the garden’s lovely —’
‘Yes,’ Billie jumped in. ‘The garden’s gorgeous and I could grow my own herbs and vegetables.’
‘Yes, you could, although I’m not sure how much spare time you’ll have once the baby arrives. But even so – I’m sorry – that ladder’s just too dangerous,’ Freya finished firmly.
Dismayed, Billie folded her arms, propping them on her ballooning belly. She’d so wanted this place to be perfect. She loved the pretty but functional kitchen with its blue glass tiles above the tiny gas stovetop, and she adored the nifty bathroom tucked at the back. And the sitting area had a perfect space for spreading the baby’s rug. She could picture her little one lying there on the patchwork blanket that Pearl was making, chubby legs kicking, grinning up at her, and learning to roll over.
But she had to admit, the front deck, while almost at ground level, would probably need some kind of railing. And that ladder was a bit of a risk, she supposed. Damn it.
‘Have you considered looking for a place in Townsville?’ Freya asked.
Dan had asked Billie this same question when he’d phoned for a chat. He’d been busy investigating a murder on a farm west of the city, and his mum had been minding Molly more than usual, but he’d still made time to contact Billie. He’d even asked if she might be free for dinner or a movie.
‘Sometime next week?’ he’d said. ‘You could stay at my place, by the way. I have a spare room, so you wouldn’t have to rush back to catch the ferry.’
So typical of Dan to issue an invitation that gave her options. Billie was incredibly tempted. And, if she was honest, when it came to thinking about her future, Dan Dexter had become a definite distraction.
Each day seemed to find her more confused. So many issues were at play. Her mother’s health and her loyalty to her parents. Her desire to stake a claim for independence. And now, to add to the mix, sneaky thoughts of how happy she was whenever she was with Dan. She knew, instinctively, he was the kind of guy a girl could trust, and she was beginning to realise that trust might very well be the most important ingredient in a relationship.
Watching her, Freya said, ‘I’m guessing that fellow you had lunch with last week probably lives on the mainland?’
Billie blinked in astonishment. ‘Have you been spying on me?’
‘Of course not. You were at a picnic table at Geoffrey Bay – out in the open for all the world to see – and I happened to drive past.’
Yikes. ‘That was Dan Dexter.’
Freya frowned. ‘The name rings a bell.’
‘He’s a detective.’
‘The detective who took you to Cairns?’
‘Yes.’
Her aunt’s eyes gleamed with unabashed curiosity now. ‘You’re a dark horse, Billie. So you’ve been seeing him all this time?’
‘No, not really. Not seeing him, exactly. Well, yes, sort of.’
Freya’s smile was far too knowing. ‘Good for you.’
‘It’s not serious, Freya. We’re not really dating.’ Not yet, at any rate. ‘Dan’s a widower. He has a little girl called Molly. And he understands that I’m not looking for —’ Billie gave a helpless flap of her hands as she searched for the best way to explain. ‘He knows that I plan to be a single mum.’
‘I see.’ Freya sounded more amused than approving. ‘Well, at any rate,’ she went on, ‘you shouldn’t rule out living in Townsville. You’d still be close enough to see Pearl and Troy regularly, and now that most of the people who were flooded last year have been able to move back into their homes, there are oodles of rental places coming back on the market.’
Yes, Billie had seen the ads in the newspaper.
She looked around again at the interior of the little A-frame. She’d spent the past few days weaving happy dreams about living in this space, but already she could sense it was losing its hold on her.
‘I’m beginning to think I should maybe wait until after the baby’s born before I make a definite decision,’ she said.
‘That’s probably a very good idea.’
‘The first step is getting Mum well again, of course.’
‘Yes.’ Freya looked as if she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. She was worrying about Seb, of course, and Billie was instantly ashamed that she’d been fretting over the minor matter of accommodation when her family had so much at stake.
‘Freya, Seb’s going to be all right.’
‘Yes, yes, I know he is.’ But she looked agonised.
‘It’s an amazing thing that he’s doing for Mum.’
Freya nodded and made another effort to smile. ‘Were there any other places you wanted to see today?’
‘No, thanks.’
They went back outside. Billie closed the front door, which was painted blue, and locked it. Linking her arm with her aunt’s, they walked together back through the garden filled with bougainvillea and flowering gingers.
She was quite sure that Freya’s life was going to be wonderful. Totally. Seb had confided to Billie that he wanted to take Freya back to Spain, but he was also happy to spend more time here on the island, or anywhere else she wanted to live. Spectacular happiness awaited her aunt, and no one deserved it more. They just had to get through the next few weeks.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Waking in a Brisbane hotel on the day before the surgery, Freya experienced a gnawing, sickening anxiety like nothing she’d ever known. Even though this day was merely the pre-surgical admission and tomorrow was the big day, she couldn’t suppress the panic.
Of course, she’d told herself that the surgeons were bloody brilliant and that Seb would sail through this procedure and so would Pearl. Last week they’d had their final tests to make sure they were both still healthy and ready for the surgery, so every care had been taken. She knew she was being overly emotional, blown away by the enormity of Seb’s generosity.
For his part, Seb had remained quite calm. Already, he was up and Freya could hear the shower running. Throwing off the covers, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She would make herself a cup of tea, but they weren’t going to bother with breakfast. Just as well, she didn’t have the stomach for food. Maybe later, she’d have something in the hospital cafeteria with Troy. They had two difficult days to fill.
As the kettle hummed to life, Freya crossed to the window and drew the curtains. Their room was many floors above the ground, but any chance of a view was obstructed by the surrounding tall buildings. She looked down to the street way below where steady streams of traffic flowed, cars and buses, small as toys. There were also joggers and cyclists and a few people, already dressed for work, hurrying along pavements, getting on with their day. Their nice normal day.
Not like mine. Fear vibrated inside her, sending fine tremors under her skin, and she wished the day was already over.
Her nervousness had started yesterday as their flight descended into Brisbane. Even though it had only been a few months since she’d left this busiest corner of the state, she’d become surprisingly accustomed to the sleepy quietness of life on Magnetic Island, to the simplicity of having only one narrow road that wound from bay to bay.
To Freya’s surprise, the sudden sight of motorways and overpasses crowded with traffic, of skyscrapers and endless suburbs stretching as far as the eye could see, had felt alien and somehow threatening. Her tension had mounted as their taxi sped into the depths of the city.
Now the kettle boiled and she poured the steaming water over a teabag in a mug. The only milk available was one of those little long-life capsules that tasted artificial, but it would have to do. She didn’t normally take sugar, but today she tore open a slim packet and added it to the mug. It would help disguise the milk. And the circumstances seemed to demand at least one small indulgence.
Sinking into an upholstered armchair that was gratifyingly comfortable, Freya crossed her legs, took a sip of the warm tea and closed her eyes, waiting for the beverage to work its universally lauded calming magic. But closing her eyes was dangerous.
Cut off from her new surroundings, her mind winged straight back to memories of Seb in their youth and to those heady days in their late teens when she’d first discovered that her schoolgirl crush was not a one-sided affair, but a fabulous mutual attraction.
And then the later years, that happy, carefree time in their early twenties, when they’d moved from the island into a tiny rented flat in South Townsville, working part-time jobs while Seb studied art at James Cook University and Freya undertook a business course at TAFE. They’d been quite busy with their study and their jobs and they hadn’t had much spare cash, but they’d had tons of friends and could party on a shoestring. Freya had been quite sure she could see their happy future unwinding like a smooth and shining ribbon in front of them.
Until the weekend they’d returned to the island for her mother’s birthday, and Freya had heard the latest chapter in the ongoing saga of Pearl and Troy’s infertility.
Her eyes flashed open now, snapping her back to the present, to solemn reality. If she’d learned anything in the intervening years, she knew that life was all about the choices a person made. Every choice, big or small, shaped the person you became. Yet now it seemed that despite their quite different choices, her life and Seb’s had come full circle.
Her only problem was that she found it hard to trust her newfound happiness. After the roller-coaster of her divorce and the fire, there were times when her renewed relationship with Seb seemed just too miraculous to be true.
‘Good morning, Sunshine.’
Seb’s voice saved Freya from drowning in these downward-spiralling thoughts, and she made sure she was smiling before she turned to greet him. ‘Morning, Seb.’
Freshly showered and shaved, he looked admirably calm and relaxed. When Freya kissed him, she gave him an extra tight hug, burying her face in his chest and breathing in the lingering traces of the hotel’s expensive soap that clung to his skin.
Her hapless mind flashed a picture of tomorrow when he would be wheeled on a trolley through the swing doors of an operating theatre, and a mighty lurch of longing threatened to erupt from her in a groan of despair. Despair for all the lost years, fear that something might go wrong now, that they
would be denied the chance to make up for the past.
‘Are you okay?’ Seb asked, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
‘Yes,’ she lied, but she couldn’t look up at him. ‘How about you?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Fighting fit.’
His smile was gorgeous and she made a deliberate effort to banish mental pictures of him lying on the operating table, unconscious. Vulnerable. Sliced open.
She smiled back at him, which was at least a step in the right direction. Today she hoped to keep that smile in place. If life was about choices, today, heaven help her, she chose to be brave.
Fear came in many forms, but so did courage. No more wimpy imaginings were allowed.
‘I guess I’d better get ready, too,’ she said, retrieving the mug and draining the last of her tea. Pearl and Troy were bound to be dressed and waiting, anxious to get to the hospital, so Freya showered and dressed in record time and vowed, with fresh determination, to ignore the hollowness in her stomach.
When she returned, dressed and ready, Seb was calmly watching the morning news. Donald Trump and Iran seemed to be the story of the moment. Again. He switched the TV off as soon as he saw her.
‘All set?’
Freya nodded.
‘Good. I’ve had a text from Pearl. They’ve already left for the hospital.’
‘Gosh. Am I holding things up?’
‘Not at all. I guess they were anxious, but there’s no rush. We have plenty of time.’
Crossing the room, Seb took Freya’s hands in his and seemed about to say something when he was distracted. His gaze dropped to her fingers, which he held lightly in his. ‘What’s this?’
He was staring at her ring – the ring he’d given her. She’d remembered to bring it with her and in the bathroom just now she’d slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. She wasn’t quite sure why – as a good luck charm, perhaps?
‘Do you remember it?’ she asked, feeling slightly overcome by her audacity. ‘It doesn’t look quite the same, of course. It was damaged in the fire.’
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