He held her tight as she thrashed against him, trying to wrench him off her. ‘What is it, Joe?’ she cried. ‘You want me to be your mistress? Is that it? I suppose you think I wouldn’t have a problem with that, it’s what I do, after all.’
He released her then. ‘Jo, don’t talk like that. This is different, I love you.’
She turned over to look at him. ‘Lachlan said he loved me too, how is it different?’
Joe’s heart flinched painfully. ‘You don’t think this is different?’
‘Not any more,’ she said. ‘There’s a woman who has a prior claim on you, there’s a child involved. That’s where I draw the line, Joe. I’ve never broken up a family, and I never will.’
‘We’re not a family,’ he said plainly.
She looked at him. ‘Yes, you are. And I’ve seen what family means to you, Joe. You’re not going to be able to let her go back to England with your child.’
He sighed heavily, lying back to stare up at the ceiling. She was right. He’d have to follow Sarah if she took the baby back home. He wondered if Jo would consider going with him . . . that was probably a bit much to ask. He didn’t even want to go and live in England, so how could he expect her to give up everything and go with him so he could be close to the child he shared with another woman? But if he stayed here with Jo, how was that going to work with his child on the other side of the world?
Jo turned on her side again, gazing out the window. She knew she was right. If Sarah went back home and Joe stayed here because of her, he’d resent it, she was certain. He’d want to be close to his child, he’d have to go to England. She supposed she could go too . . . but surely it was way too early in their relationship to be pulling up stakes and following him across the other side of the world, to stand in the background while he played co-parent with his former lover, who, by all accounts, was still holding a torch for him?
It was all too tenuous, too unpredictable. There was every chance the bond between them would grow deeper when the baby was born, that was to be expected. Jo felt a chill in her heart, imagining herself in a flat on her own in London, while Joe was off spending time with Sarah and the baby . . .
She rolled onto her back, scattering the image from her mind. She needn’t worry. He hadn’t even suggested her going with him as a possibility, even though apparently he hadn’t slept all night trying to think of a solution.
Jo glanced at him. ‘Did you tell her about me?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘I told her there was someone,’ he said, ‘but she didn’t really take it in, she was too focused on what she had to say.’
Of course, the baby trumped everything. ‘I have to ask . . . you’re sure it’s yours?’
He sighed, nodding slowly. ‘I’m sure.’ He was still staring up at the ceiling. ‘I keep thinking about my parents. You know my mother fell pregnant with me when they were both working in Vietnam. They weren’t married, they hadn’t even been together that long. She could have gone back to the US, Dad would never have known . . .’
‘But they loved each other.’
‘They did,’ he admitted. ‘So they came to Australia, made a life. We had a mother and a father and I had a happy childhood.’
Will didn’t have it quite so good, though. Joe imagined a lifetime of trying to make up for never being there; he saw a polite eight year old who thought of him as a distant uncle, a sullen sixteen year old full of resentment, a young adult who didn’t want to know him.
A happy childhood sounded like an impossible dream to Jo. Her childhood was spent pining for an absent father, littered with all the broken dreams of an abandoned mother.
She imagined Joe walking into the flat in London. We have to talk. A sob caught in her throat.
‘Jo?’ He turned to look at her, propping himself on one elbow. Her face crumpled as the tears finally broke. He drew her into his arms and held her close.
‘You have to go and be with her, Joe,’ she sobbed into his chest. ‘It’s the right thing. She shouldn’t have to do this on her own, and your baby needs a father.’
Joe didn’t want to hear that right now, he didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to stop her crying, stop her pain somehow. He rocked her in his arms, soothing her, saying he was sorry, over and over. He smoothed the hair away from her face, wiping her tears away, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips.
She pulled back. ‘We can’t, Joe. You should go.’
‘I don’t want to leave you now,’ he said plaintively. ‘Not tonight, can’t we just have tonight?’
Jo sniffed, staring up at him. ‘But what will you tell her?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I just want to be with you now. I love you so much, Jo.’
‘I love you too.’
And then, because it was just the two of them, alone in the room together, and they were never going to have this chance again, they made love. And it was sad, and heartwrenching, and poignant, and tender. And they eventually fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
And Jo dreamed they were in the elevator again, and no one knew where they were, and no one could get to them.
Morning
‘Joe . . . Joe . . .’
He stirred sleepily, resisting her.
‘Joe, wake up.’
He blinked, opening his eyes a little. The room was still dark.
‘You fell asleep, it’s nearly morning, you have to go.’
‘No, not now,’ he murmured, nestling his head into her shoulder.
‘Yes, now,’ she said plainly. ‘Believe me, I know the drill.’
He lifted his head to look at her. ‘Jo, I wish you’d stop talking like that. We haven’t been having an affair.’
‘Not until last night,’ she said. ‘I can’t do it, Joe. Not with you.’
He sighed, propping his head up with his hand. ‘I don’t even know what’s going to happen yet, nothing’s settled,’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t make any kind of commitment to her.’
‘And you’re not going to while you keep me on the side. Joe, you were the one who told me you have to give a hundred percent of yourself in a relationship,’ she reminded him. ‘You don’t know how you’re going to feel when that baby’s born – you think it’s fair to keep us both in circulation so you can decide then?’
He breathed out, dropping his head onto her chest, and Jo brought her hand up to stroke his hair.
He lifted his head after a while. ‘You really don’t think there’s any other way?’
Jo looked at him steadily. ‘Do you?’
They gazed at each other a long moment, before he lowered his lips to meet hers, and they kissed with a sad, desperate longing. The pain rose to the surface again, and suddenly Jo couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear that she was losing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight and kissing him frantically as she straddled him with her legs. She pushed him onto his back and rolled over on top of him, rocking her pelvis against him. She felt him becoming aroused, heard his faint moan as she reached down to take hold of him. He grabbed her face, bringing her mouth hard against his, kissing her hungrily as she pushed and pounded and bore herself down onto him, as though she was trying to meld their bodies into one, so she could keep him with her always, They climaxed together with such intensity it was almost unbearable, and Jo collapsed onto him, sobbing freely. She didn’t try to hold it back, she didn’t care any more, she wept freely as he held her close, burying his face in her hair. And she realised he was crying too.
Jo didn’t know how long they stayed like that, entwined, clinging to each other. Finally she broke away, someone had to. She unravelled her limbs from his. ‘You have to go.’
‘Jo –’
‘Just go, please. Don’t make it any harder.’
Reluctantly he got up out of the bed, and put on his clothes, and Jo lay on her side, watching him. He was going to be a father, she had to keep telling herself; his baby had come into existence before th
ey had even met. He was never hers to have . . .
He sat back on the bed when he was dressed, gazing down at her, stroking her arm. They didn’t say anything, there was nothing else to say. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her shoulder, pausing for a moment, his eyes closed. Then he slowly got to his feet and walked out of the room.
Jo remembered she still had his jacket from the other night. She threw the covers off and grabbed her robe. ‘Joe, wait,’ she called as she pulled it on.
He was standing by the door when she hurried out.
‘Your jacket,’ she said. ‘You better not leave this behind.’
As he took it from her, he drew her into his arms again, holding her close. He felt as though he was leaving his whole heart behind. He was empty; he had nothing for Sarah, and worse, nothing for the baby.
She pulled back first, looking up at him. ‘Goodbye, Joe.’
His eyes lingered on her for a long moment, before he touched his hand to her cheek and turned away, walking up the corridor. Jo didn’t quite close the door, she watched him through the narrow chink as he pressed the button for the elevator. She saw him wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, then he stepped into the lift, and he was out of sight.
Jo went back to bed, but she lay there awake, for hours, not moving, not crying, not even feeling much. She watched the clock tick over. When it made it to eight-thirty, she reached across and picked up the phone. She rang the office and told the receptionist she wasn’t well, she wouldn’t be coming in today. She didn’t have to put on an act, she sounded dreadful, and the girl, Jo didn’t catch her name, was very sympathetic, assuring her she would pass the message on, and that Jo should just concentrate on feeling better.
But she wasn’t going to feel better any time soon. She hung up and rolled over onto her side. Sometime later she drifted off to sleep.
8:40 am
Sarah was still asleep, or at least she hadn’t emerged from the spare bedroom when Joe had let himself into the flat earlier. He’d gone directly to his room and fallen onto the bed. He didn’t sleep, he just lay there for hours, thinking about Jo, and the fucking awful hand fate had dealt them.
He found himself wishing he didn’t know about the baby, at the same time hating himself for even thinking that. He wanted to feel excited about becoming a father, but right now he couldn’t muster up the least bit of enthusiasm. He hoped that would come in time; it had to or else life would be unbearable.
But what bothered him more than anything was that he’d hurt Jo so badly. If Sarah had showed up sooner it wouldn’t have come to this. He wouldn’t have said all those things to Jo, wouldn’t have tried to convince her that he was the guy she could trust, who wasn’t going to leave her, who was never going to let her down. And he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her so completely and know that he couldn’t love anyone else the way he loved her.
‘Joe?’ He heard Sarah’s voice outside his door.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
She pushed the door open and peered in.
‘You came in late. I didn’t hear you.’
He had to get over this disdain he felt for her. When he’d opened the door yesterday to be confronted with her obviously pregnant girth, he had gone into a kind of shock. He knew it had to be his, but he had proceeded to interrogate her for most of the night, trying to make sense of it, trying to dodge the inevitability of what it meant.
Sarah had finally interrupted him. ‘Is this so terrible, Joe? I know things had cooled between us before you left, but that was only because we’d been apart so much. I don’t blame you, we were both distracted, we weren’t making an effort. But before that it was good, wasn’t it? Can’t we salvage that, build on it, for the sake of the baby?’
‘You don’t understand, Sarah. I’ve met someone.’
She’d barely registered a reaction. ‘Well, unless you met her the first day you arrived home, it can’t have been going on long, Joe. We had three years together, and now we’re having a child together. You think I’m not making sacrifices?’
He had let his mind drift, imagining instead that it was Jo who was pregnant. It would have caused no end of drama, he knew what she was like. She’d have protested that they hadn’t known each other long enough, that she wasn’t even sure she wanted a baby, what this would do to her career – she’d have come up with a whole raft of reasons against it, that was her specialty. But just the thought of it, the idea of it, gave Joe such an overwhelming sense of joy. That’s what he should be feeling now. Maybe he had to wait for the birth. Surely he’d fall in love with his own child then, and that would be enough.
‘I was going to make a pot of tea,’ Sarah was saying. ‘Would you like a cup?’
He swallowed down the ache in his throat. ‘Sure, I’ll be out in a minute.’
‘Okay,’ she said, slipping away again.
So now this was his life. Who the hell ever said you got to choose your own destiny?
3 pm
Jo was sitting on the train to Sutherland, her head lolling against the window as she stared out at the passing scenery, but it was all a blur. Belle had sent a text message around the middle of the day, prompting Jo to give her an idea of when she’d be arriving. Her immediate impulse was to message straight back and say she couldn’t make it. But she knew Belle would argue the toss, and demand a good excuse, and Jo would have to tell her what had happened, and she couldn’t face that. Besides, she had to get out of the apartment. Jo had a sickening feeling that if she didn’t drag herself up out of that bed today, she might never get out of it. She had to put one foot in the front of the other and get on with her life.
She saw Belle’s monster truck parked on the side of the road as she walked down from the station.
‘Hi, you made it.’ Belle chirped as Jo opened the passenger door. Then she frowned. ‘God, you look terrible.’
‘Thanks Belle,’ she said, clambering up onto the front seat. While she’d made the effort to get out of bed, she hadn’t made much of an effort beyond that. It wasn’t until she’d seen her reflection in the polished doors of the apartment elevator that she realised how drab she looked, in a grey mottled T-shirt, brown cardigan and old jeans. Her hair was pulled back roughly into an elastic and she hadn’t bothered with make-up, though she probably should have, given the dark circles under her eyes.
‘No, really,’ Belle persisted, ‘are you all right, Jo?’
‘I’m fine.’ She clicked her seatbelt into place, but Belle was still staring at her.
‘What happened? Is it Joe?’
She sighed. ‘Not now, Belle, can we just get going? You better fill me in on what you know about Mum so I’m up to speed.’
Belle hesitated for a moment, then she started up the engine and pulled out from the kerb without looking. A car beeped its horn behind them. ‘What’s your problem? I used my blinker,’ she said to the rear-vision mirror. ‘So, about Mum. I haven’t got much out of her, that’s the whole problem.’
The conversation remained on Charlene for the drive back to Belle’s house. Not that it was a conversation as such. Belle blathered on the whole way: Charlene was being typically cagey, only admitting she had to have some more tests, and that she may have to have a minor ‘procedure’ which was nothing for Belle to concern herself with, but she’d probably have to stay around for a few weeks, and if Belle had some kind of problem with that she’d book herself into a cheap hotel somewhere, not that she could afford it, but if she had no choice, if her daughter wasn’t prepared to support her . . .
‘So what am I supposed to do?’ Belle was saying as they pulled into her street.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jo. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of it.’
Belle swung the car into the driveway and yanked on the handbrake. She turned to look at her sister. ‘I really appreciate you coming, Jo, even though I know you don’t want to be here.’
Jo unbuckled her seatbelt. ‘I do want to be here, Belle, for you. And let’s not forget, she�
��s my mother too.’
Belle launched over and pecked her on the cheek. ‘What would I do without you?’
Jo felt tears spring into her eyes. God, she had to keep her emotions in check. She sniffed. ‘Let’s do this.’
Belle let them into the house and sang out, ‘Hey Mum, we’re back.’
‘Whoop-de-do,’ came a call from the family room. She sounded like she’d been drinking, which was hardly a surprise.
They walked through the house into the kitchen. Charlene was reclined on the lounge wearing a leopard-skin print wrap dress and full make-up, her feet propped on the coffee table, and a martini glass in her hand. She was such a cliché.
‘Isn’t it a bit early for cocktail hour, Mother?’ said Jo, plonking her handbag on the breakfast bar.
‘Well, you know what they say, it’s five o’clock somewhere in the world.’
Such a cliché.
‘So,’ Jo began, walking over to an armchair and sitting down, ‘what’s the story?’
Charlene sat forward. ‘My God, you look shocking, Jo. What have you been doing with yourself?’
Jo sighed, crossing her legs. ‘Oh, you know, working hard, making a living. Some of us have to.’
‘You need a good beauty therapist, Jo. I don’t know Sydney, up in Surfers I could give you the name of several.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Well, you two,’ Belle said with a nervous laugh. ‘How about a drink? I see you’re right at the moment, Mum, can I interest you in a G&T, Jo?’
She thought it was probably best to steer clear of gin. ‘No, just water, thanks Belle.’
She frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes I’m sure,’ she nodded, looking meaningfully at Belle.
‘Okay,’ she chirped, turning around to the fridge.
Jo looked back at Charlene. ‘So how are you, Mum?’
‘I’m fine, love, how are you?’
‘Well, I’m fine too, but I’m not booked in for tests at the hospital tomorrow.’
Crossing Paths Page 38
