Sarah's Baby

by Margaret Way

  “You don’t want to face the truth, Kyall, but you’ll have to. There was no adoption. Your grandmother, God forgive her—although I never will—told me our baby had died during the night. Nurse Fairweather confirmed that. The baby who died was Stella Hazelton’s child. I can only think the babies were switched. Deliberately. By Nurse Fairweather at your grandmother’s instigation. She would’ve been very persuasive. It was all for the best, she’d have said. And she would’ve paid well. What’s money to a McQueen? But eventually Molly Fairweather must’ve been worn down by guilt. It turned her mind.”

  Kyall looked at Sarah. So beautiful. So familiar. He didn’t recognize her at all. “It all sounds plausible, but that would make my grandmother a truly wicked woman.”

  “So she is,” Sarah flashed back, phoenixlike, rising from the ashes. Her child’s kiss had done that. “Ruth broke not just one heart, Kyall, she’s broken many. What about Stella Hazelton’s heart? She’s reared our daughter believing Rose to be her own. But Stella Hazelton won’t talk to you about adoption. As far as she knows, she took her own baby home. The young girl in the room next to her lost her baby. Stella will remember. She’ll remember the way I wept.”

  “Oh, God, Sarah!” His anguish and confusion were ferocious. He moaned aloud with it, shifting his body away from her.

  Tentatively she slid her arms around him, feeling the powerful tension in his tall frame. His wide back was like an impregnable wall of defense. Yet he didn’t cast her off. They stood like that, Sarah swaying slightly, for several moments. Then she laid her face along his back, nestling her head.

  “Kyall, I love you. You are my heart. I’ll love you until the sun above us stops shining. I could never lie to you about our baby dying. You must know that. I would’ve brought her home to you, no matter what your grandmother said. I only held her for a heartbeat of time, but I’ve never forgotten. I’ve lived with the grief. Please don’t add to my punishment.”

  “But, Sarah, it’s a hideous sin!” he railed. “I’ll never get over it.”

  The pain and rage in his voice cut through to her heart. She dropped her arms. “If you refuse to believe me now, that’s the end for both of us.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I do believe you, Sarah.” He turned, hands clenched into fists. His expression was one Sarah had never seen. It made him look older. Formidable.

  Her lips moved to speak, but she couldn’t find the words.

  “You’ve had laid out for you what I never saw—my grandmother’s black soul.” His voice was heavy with self-contempt. “I expect Joe saw it, too, and that Fairweather woman, not that I can forgive her. She did something that has condemned her forever in my eyes.”

  “And in mine.” Sarah nodded. “We’ll have to face your grandmother.” She injected determination into her voice.

  “That inspires no fear in me,” he said harshly. “I’m not a cruel man, but I won’t allow her to stay on Wunnamurra a day longer.”

  “Can you do that?” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother will be heartbroken.”

  “No, she won’t.” He tossed that idea aside. “My mother will be heartbroken when she knows what she’s missed. What we’ve all missed. I don’t imagine my grandmother will want to stay, anyway. She’s rich. She can go where she likes. Paris. Rome. London. New York. Anywhere, as long as it’s far away from me.” He reached for Sarah, put his arm around her. “The truly difficult thing will be to get our daughter back. Clearly she’s been reared by people who love her. I’m sure she loves them.”

  “Yes.” An enormous wave of pity for the Hazeltons spread through Sarah. “We’ll have to go to them. Tell our story. They may demand DNA testing. They won’t want to give her up.”

  “We’ll work something out.” Kyall spoke confidently. “One thing is certain—I want our child back. We’ve been robbed of the joy of having her. And to think my own grandmother planned it all. Ruth McQueen has no family anymore.”

  THE INSTANT SHE LAID EYES on them, Ruth knew the moment of truth had come.

  How?

  She felt a rush of blind panic, but then she calmed. First of all, she wasn’t sure exactly what they knew. But they meant business, no question there. She could see the glitter in her grandson’s eyes even from a distance. She’d been congratulating herself that she’d sown sufficient doubt in his mind over Sarah’s story. Now there were new suspicions to contend with. Something about that fool woman, Molly Fairweather, perhaps? Even if they exhumed Joe’s body for an autopsy, it would tell them nothing. The poison could never be traced. Not that they’d ever do it.

  She awaited them, like an empress granting an audience, on the broad veranda of Wunnamurra homestead where she had reigned for so long.

  “So what brings you here, Sarah?” She smiled. A smile full of duplicity. “Surely you should be ministering to your patients at the hospital?”

  “I have one question, if I may?” Kyall cut in, his voice hard and cold. “How did you get that woman to keep quiet? How much did you pay her?”

  Looking stunned and hurt, Ruth stared at him. “My darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was bewilderment but not a trace of apprehension in her tone.

  “Nurse Fairweather,” Sarah helped out, well versed in Ruth’s behavior.

  “Good grief!” Ruth expelled a relieved sigh. “What about her? I gave the poor woman a home. Just as I’ve said. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “And she died for what you didn’t want anyone to know,” Kyall accused her. “What happened? Did she threaten to reveal what you’d both kept hidden?” He stood above his grandmother as she sat in her peacock chair, immaculately dressed and made up as she had been every single day for as long as he could remember. “Except that things can’t be kept hidden forever. Soon the whole town, the whole outback—the whole country, for all I care—will know about the terrible secrets you’ve kept. Things even Sarah didn’t know until today.”

  “Like what?” Ruth cried, black eyes flashing over Sarah as she stood at Kyall’s side.

  “That we have a living, breathing daughter, when all these years you’ve allowed me to believe she was dead,” Sarah told her.

  “You’re talking crazily.” Slowly Ruth wiped her mouth with a lace-edged handkerchief. “But do tell me more. This sounds like romantic fiction. Never could read it.”

  Sarah shook her head. “It’s real life. She’s staying at Ngarara Station to the northeast. Kyall flew me there to attend an accident victim. That poor young man died, but my daughter is mercifully alive. She’s staying with her friend Clemmie for the school holidays. She was waiting for us, Ruth. As if it was meant to be. The name they gave her is Fiona Hazelton. Her mother’s name is Stella. I’ve always remembered the woman in the room next to mine at the hospital. Don’t you? Stella, like in the Tennessee Williams play.”

  Ruth laughed quietly. “What story are you concocting now, Sarah?” She scanned Sarah with open contempt.

  “That’s enough!” Kyall broke in, goaded beyond measure. “My child is the very image of Sarah. We don’t need DNA to tell us she’s our daughter. It all adds up. I’ve known all my life you had a dark side, Gran, but I never realized you’re truly evil. Even now I can’t shake the utter disbelief from my mind.”

  “You know why? Because it’s not true!” Ruth cried. “How can I be evil when I’ve done everything—everything—for you? I didn’t plan any of it for myself. It was for you.”

  “Then you admit it?” Kyall asked quietly. How sad it sounded.

  “Admit it, be damned!” Ruth rose from her chair.

  “You took my baby and gave her to another woman,” Sarah said. “Who did you think you were? God?”

  “Exactly!” Ruth snorted. “And I’ll bet the child hasn’t suffered for it. The image of you! How could I love a child like that? To me you’re ugly. Ugly!”

  Kyall held up his hand. “I want you to go away from h
ere, Gran. Today you’ve shown yourself for what you really are. I can’t and won’t live with it.”

  “Go?” Ruth stared at him in shock. “This place is mine. Yours and mine.”

  “Mine, I think you’ll find.”

  “Haven’t I kept it in trust for you?” Ruth asked passionately.

  “Your custodianship is over. I want you to have your things packed. What you can’t take, I’ll send on, anywhere you choose to go. I want you out of here by tomorrow. You can arrange for a charter flight.”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “Oh, yes, you will!” Kyall stared her down.

  Ruth flung out her hand, the many diamond rings sparkling in the sunlight. “Trust me, Kyall,” she implored. “I did it all for you. A baby at that stage of your life would have ruined you. The scandal would’ve been appalling. I couldn’t have it. I couldn’t have her,” she threw at Sarah bitterly. “I’m your grandmother.”

  “I don’t have a grandmother. Not anymore.” Kyall drew Sarah close. “You robbed us of our child. Handed her over in place of a dead baby. The most terrible thing is that you have no remorse. You’ve lost me forever. Now you must finish your life on your own.”

  “I’m quite finished now.” Ruth gathered herself up. “I’ll go to my room. I won’t leave it until that woman is out of here. I’ve spent years and years trying to get rid of her.”

  “What you don’t understand, Gran, because you know nothing about it, is that I love her.”

  “Then have her!” Ruth gave a great shudder and turned away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IT WAS A STRUGGLE that day for Sarah to keep up with everything that was asked of her. She had to restrain the powerful impulse to burst into tears. Not tears of sadness or distress, but of incredible joy. Was the dream that had been shattered about to come true? Her feelings transcended anything she’d ever experienced before. Her beautiful Rose lived and breathed, walked the earth. And still Sarah had to keep it a secret. But not from Harriet. At the end of that life-changing day, Sarah left her wonderful nurses on night duty as she called in on the woman who’d been like an aunt to her. Harriet deserved to be told the full story, though Sarah had always thought Harriet had her suspicions.

  She found her taking advantage of the school holidays to immerse herself in her art. No delicate water colors or flower paintings for Harriet. Robust images, intense in color, enamels and acrylics on canvas. They certainly made an impact, but Sarah didn’t have the faintest idea what they were meant to represent.

  “My only requirement is that I enjoy myself,” Harriet said, standing back from her latest canvas to view it critically. It was extremely colorful and bold, with what appeared to be the outline of a horse galloping flat out. Indeed, its feet had left the ground, or so it seemed amid all the arabesques of violet, orange, green, blue and sulfur-yellow. Nonetheless it was interesting, even decorative in the right place.

  “What do you think?”

  Sarah smiled. “I think it’s dynamic and full of energy, Harriet. Just like you. Is that a horse?”

  “Of course it’s a horse.” Harriet sent her a speaking glance. “Now you’re starting to get the idea. It’s a brumby. I’m going to call the painting Freedom. It’s for Morris’s birthday. That’s next Friday. I’m giving a little party Saturday evening. I want you and Kyall to come and that darling girl you had staying with you for a few days. Laura. There’s a story there. I’d say she’s had a bad time of it. She acts as if she wants to disappear. She’s like my friend, Evan, in that way. Actually I was thinking of inviting Evan, too. Do you think Laura might come?”

  “I’m sure she would if you asked her, Harriet. No good matchmaking, though.”

  “She’s married?” Harriet said, sounding disappointed. “I had her in mind for Evan.”

  “I realize that, but Laura’s married. I trust you more than any other woman in the world, Harriet, so I’ll tell you this much. Laura’s on the run from an abusive husband.”

  Harriet looked appalled. “How absolutely dreadful. But surely I’m missing something here…. When a young woman simply disappears, don’t people notice? Hasn’t she got family? Friends? Anyway, can’t she divorce him?”

  “She lives in fear of him, Harriet. Of what he might do.”

  “My goodness, I’d have him arrested,” Harriet said fiercely.

  “Laura’s not you, Harriet. Abusive men pick their marks. Laura is a very gentle person. You know that—you’ve met her.”

  “That doesn’t preclude taking action!”

  “He has her thoroughly intimidated. As for family, she lost her father. Her mother’s remarried and lives in New Zealand. Her husband, believe it or not, is a doctor. A highly regarded heart surgeon. Prominent family. They think he can do no wrong. Laura is really frightened.” Sarah shook her head. “I’m sure when she gets to know you a little better, she’ll tell you her story.”

  Harriet’s eyebrows were still dancing. “I thought doctors were supposed to heal people? Not willingly and brutally cause them harm. He wouldn’t come out here, would he?” Harriet exchanged an alarmed glance with Sarah.

  “I expect that if he were able to trace her he would. He told her he’d never let her go.”

  “Bully!” Harriet barked contemptuously, grabbing up a feather duster and flourishing it over a workbench like a rapier. “If she ran over him, she’d only get six months. Possibly a suspended sentence.”

  “I don’t think she’d do it, Harriet.”

  “Then go see our local witch doctor, Ruth. Have her make up one of her potions.”

  Sarah’s eyes burned. “Is that what happened to Joe?”

  “God forbid. Let’s stop there. And what about you? You look very stressed—or excited. Is anything wrong?”

  “Not wrong, Harriet. For once all’s right with my world. I have something quite extraordinary to tell you. It’s still a secret, except to a very few. Kyall. Ruth. And by now Kyall will have spoken to his mother and father.”

  “You’ve actually tied the knot?” Harriet guessed.

  “Not yet, but it’ll be sooner than later.”

  “Tell me,” Harriet begged. “I can’t stand the suspense.”

  “You’ll know exactly the kind of woman Ruth McQueen really is.”

  Harriet rolled her eyes. “My dear, I already know. Come into the kitchen—I’ll make coffee. And I’ve made a lovely chocolate-truffle tart. You can take it with you if you like. You’ve lost weight since I last saw you.”

  “That was only four days ago, Harriet.”

  “Lose any more, and Kyall will have to shake the sheets to find you.

  “Now, what’s happened?” Harriet asked when the coffee was perked and they were seated at the kitchen table.

  For perhaps the hundredth time that day, Sarah thought she might cry, but her training held her in good stead. “I warn you, this will amaze and shock you.”

  “You were pregnant when Ruth McQueen raced you off all those years ago,” Harriet suggested briskly.

  “It would help if you waited until the end.” Sarah gave her a wry glance.

  “Sorry, my dear. I was just trying to get the ball rolling.”

  “It turns out you’re right, anyway.” Sarah shrugged. “I was pregnant. I’ve never told you or anyone—I just couldn’t speak about it—but Ruth told me the morning after the delivery that my baby had died.”

  “Oh, my dearest girl!” Harriet reached out and grasped Sarah’s hand in a rare display of emotion. “Forgive me, but I thought Ruth had probably forced you to have an abortion.”

  “She tried.” Sarah’s voice thinned. “She tried hard—you know Ruth—but I wanted my baby. All these years I’ve been crippled by a sense of loss and grief. It seems to have impinged on everything I’ve done. It kept me alienated from Kyall when I love him with all my heart.”

  “This is awful!” Harriet murmured. “All these years you’ve had to live with the pain. And your poor mother!”

  “I think it
was all too much for her,” Sarah said. “My mother was a stranger to deception, but it was forced on her. Yesterday I was called out to a terrible accident on Ngarara Station…”

  “Yes, Morris told me.”

  “When are you and Morris moving in together, by the way?” Sarah asked flippantly.

  “Sarah, I’m surprised at you.” Harriet’s eyes widened. “Actually, I’m holding out for marriage. Anyway, no more interruptions.”

  Sarah nodded. “There was a young girl staying at the homestead for the school holidays. She’s a friend of Clemmie Hungerford, the daughter of the house. Fifteen, blond, brown-eyed, dimple in her chin. Me at fifteen.”

  Harriet let out a cry, jumped up from the table, picked up what looked like a birthday card and began fanning herself with great ferocity. “You can’t mean you think she’s your child?”

  “I’m sure of it, Harriet,” Sarah said very quietly. “The shock was profound. I’m not over it. I’ve been functioning in a trance. As it was, I went into a dead faint. It was worse for Kyall, because he never even knew I was pregnant. Ruth persuaded Mum and me that we’d ruin his life. Even Mum seemed to acknowledge this. She was so frightened of Ruth.”

  “With good reason.” Harriet shuddered. “Ruth’s the scariest woman in the country. Are you trying to tell me Ruth had the baby adopted without your knowledge or permission? Of course she did,” Harriet said, answering her own question. “She told you your baby was dead. My God, how wicked!”

  “Oh, yes, it was wicked,” Sarah said. “Enormously wicked. There was a woman in the room next to me at the maternity hospital. Probably about ten years older. Her name was Stella. I’ve always remembered that. Stella is the name of the woman my daughter calls Mother. It wasn’t my baby who died.” The tears began to stream down her face.