by Valery Parv
It had been all she could do not to revisit the ward where she had last held the baby. For a time, she had wondered if she was going mad. Her doctor had assured her that her feelings were normal, urging her not to fight them, but to own them. How did you do that? She still wasn't sure, but she had battled on until the urge to look for her child had lessened. Now she came to the park instead, finding peace in the leafy quiet.
The last thing she wanted was Zeke defiling this special place with his suspicions and his tough, journalistic rationalism. "The adult part of me knows it wasn't my fault," she said as evenly as she could. "But sometimes emotions take over, particularly when your hormones are all over the place to begin with. At least, that's what my doctor told me."
"He's right. So don't let me hear any more about this being a result of your failure. While I was researching the series, I discovered that miscarriages and natal deaths account for a surprisingly large percentage of all births."
"It doesn't help when your child is among the statistics."
"No, it doesn't," he agreed, and she heard the raw edge in his voice. It came to her that he wasn't as unmoved by seeing the memorial as he pretended. Her heart ached for him as she knew only too well what he was going through. Why couldn't he share it with her, instead of fighting the feelings and focusing on things that didn't matter, like a flower left by mistake?
For the same reason she couldn't entirely let go of her illogical sense of failure, she thought. They both had baggage from long ago that made it hard for them to deal with things in the present. It was probably why they were better off apart.
"I'm glad you brought me here," he said on a low note.
She nodded, finally allowing herself to lean against his hard strength. "You don't know how much I wish I could go back and do things differently."
"It means a lot to hear you admit it." He seemed to become aware that she was resting her head against his chest and a groan rumbled deep in his throat. His mouth descended to the top of her head and he kissed her gently, while his hands slid up her neck and under her hair, to sift the strands through his fingers.
As his hands brushed her sensitive nape, she shivered. She became vibrantly aware of details like the rustle of the breeze in the wattle trees, the crunch of gravel under her feet and most of all, the warm, spicy man scent of Zeke.
She turned her head slightly so her cheek was pillowed against his chest. The steady pulse of his heart vibrated through her and she knew she was far from over him, no matter what she tried to tell herself. It didn't make them any more right for each other, but it was the simple truth. She told herself she should move out of his arms before things got more complicated than they already were, but her limbs were curiously unresponsive.
He made the effort she was unable to summon, and set her away from him. "We should get back. It's late."
"And the puppy…" she said at the same instant, to cover the acute disappointment raging through her.
But nothing could quell that feeling inside her.
* * *
A week later, Tara greeted her sister-in-law warmly as she slid into a seat opposite her in the coffee shop. "Sorry I'm late," Carol began, "I got to court to discover that my client flew to Europe last night. She didn't realize she was supposed to appear in person, and thought sending her secretary was good enough. It took all my powers of persuasion to get the case postponed until I can get her back here."
Tara had been too preoccupied to notice the time passing but she made a sympathetic noise. "Tough case?"
Carol nodded. "Rich woman ripped off by penniless lover. He absconds with jewelry worth a mint and says she gave it to him. She claims to only want the valuables back but I think she'd prefer him under house arrest at her mansion."
Tara laughed. "Quite a tangled web."
"If her family weren't long-standing clients, I wouldn't get involved. My guess is she plans to make him sweat as long as possible then drop the suit, hoping he'll come back to her out of gratitude."
"Do you think the boy will come back to her?"
Carol shrugged. "Anything's possible in a relationship."
Tara of all people, knew it was true. She had been a bigger fool over Zeke than she would have believed possible. She hid her face behind the menu and mumbled something about having the mushroom omelet and a small green salad.
"Make that two," Carol told the waiter when she came to take their order. Carol gestured toward Tara's black coffee. "One of those for me, too. I need the caffeine boost."
The waiter took their menus, leaving Tara with nothing to hide behind. She saw Carol make a swift assessment of her expression then groan softly. "Oh, Tara, don't tell me, you made it two out of two?"
Soon after Zeke returned, Tara had told Carol about driving him home and almost making love to him, adding that one out of two wasn't bad. Not more than a week later, she had allowed him to make love to her before accompanying her to the charity auction, and the ill-fated visit to the memorial. "How can you possibly tell?" she asked Carol uncomfortably.
"It was a lucky guess, but you just confirmed it."
Tara felt herself color. "Unfair tactic, counselor. I was beginning to worry that it showed."
Carol broke a bread stick in two and nibbled on it. "It does now I know what to look for. If I had to label it, I'd say you look more alive somehow."
The infuriating part was, she felt it, too. "Zeke has that effect on people."
Carol's eyebrow tilted. "On people?"
Tara felt her shoulders slump. "All right, on me."
She welcomed the arrival of their food as a distraction.
"Physical attraction isn't enough to rebuild a relationship on," she said as much to herself as to Carol.
Carol grinned. "Repeat it often enough and you might start believing it."
Tara leaned across the table. "I have to believe it. I've moved on since Zeke. As well as my work with the foundation, I've got a book to write, and I've decided to go to Phillip Island to do work on it. Since I bought that crazy lease at the auction, I may as well put it to good use."
When she'd called to invite Carol to lunch, Tara had told her about signing the book contract, and buying the lease at the auction. Now Carol gestured with her bread stick. "It isn't crazy. If it makes you happy, what's wrong with it?"
Tara wasn't sure if what she felt amounted to happiness. A sense of something lacking nagged at her, but she told herself it was only the past, stirred up by Zeke's return. It didn't quell the arousal she felt at the thought of him, but it was a start. On the island, she might manage to erase him from her thoughts for good.
Carol forked salad on to her plate then gestured with the bowl. When Tara shook her head, her sister-in-law frowned. "A woman on a mission needs her sustenance."
In spite of herself, Tara smiled. "I'm going to write a book, not climb Everest."
"If you found writing as hard as I do, you'd think it was the same thing."
"Luckily I don't, so I'm looking forward to it."
Carol made a sooner-you-than-me face. "I'm thrilled for you, and I'll happily buy dozens of copies when your book comes out, but for myself, I'll stick to the law, thanks." She sobered abruptly. "On the phone, I got the impression that something else is bothering you. Want to talk about it?"
Tara drew patterns on the tablecloth with her finger. "You know me too well. Zeke found out about the baby. He found my name in the hospital records while researching the baby farming story."
Carol made a soft sound of sympathy. "I noticed that it was the same hospital so I'm not surprised that Zeke put two and two together. The timing puts you right in the middle of the story. How did Zeke take the news?"
Tara felt her eyes brim and blinked rapidly. "Hard. I knew it wouldn't be easy for him, but I didn't realize how much the idea of being a father appealed to him."
Carol looked surprised. "Isn't he against happy families?"
"He doesn't believe in them, and after his experience I can't bla
me him. That's why his reaction to fatherhood came as such a surprise. He reacted as if I'd taken something away from him, something he never believed he could have."
"You didn't, nature did," Carol reminded Tara when her voice began to shake. "He's going to need time to come to terms with it, just as you did. But I still have trouble picturing Zeke as a father."
Tara hated the tears that hovered so near the surface. She had believed she had her emotions under control at long last, but it seemed not. She pulled herself together with an effort. "You haven't seen him with his new puppy." She had also told Carol about Zeke buying the dog.
Carol helped herself to more salad. "Actually I have. I saw it on television yesterday, when he was interviewed about the baby farming story. Before the actual interview, they showed him in his office working on the computer, then outside playing with the dog in a park. Zeke looked the way Ben did when Cole and Katie were born, as if he never expected to feel so captivated by a helpless creature. Of course we're only talking about a dog, but from what I saw he has the right stuff to care for small, helpless creatures."
Tara was gripped by a vivid image of Zeke on a blanket on the ground, playing with an infant. The room spun for a second until she got herself under control. It was a fantasy, nothing more. "Did he look well?"
Carol's fork froze on the way to her mouth. "Haven't you seen him since you told him about the baby?"
"Last week I took him to visit Brendan's memorial and … we had an argument."
"Because you kept the truth from him?"
Tara nodded. "Mostly, but there was something else, too. Someone had left a single rose in the flower holder on Brendan's plaque."
Carol frowned. "Do you know who it was?"
Tara had been hoping it was Carol, but her sister-in-law's reaction showed it wasn't. "If it wasn't you or Ben, I can't think who else knows about the memorial but Zeke and me. It had to be a mistake. Someone probably left the flower in the wrong place."
Carol's eyes narrowed. "It seems unlikely, as all the plaques have the babies' first names on them. I gather Zeke doesn't agree with you."
Tara leaned back in her chair. "He's so caught up in his investigation that he's seeing conspiracies around every corner."
Her companion's expression softened. "Since the hospital involved is the same one you were in, and it all happened around the same time, is there any chance…"
"No chance," Tara cut in swiftly, on a knife thrust of pain. Since Zeke's story broke, she had seen some of the parents involved being interviewed on the evening news and in spite of herself she had felt consumed by jealousy. Their babies had been stolen from them and given to other families in exchange for large sums of money, but no matter how great their heartache, at least they had some hope of finding their children again.
On a radio interview she hadn't been quick enough to turn off, she had heard Zeke pledge to stick with the story until the babies were returned to their rightful families. The police were already following leads Zeke had turned up so it was only a matter of time before the people behind the whole thing were caught.
During the last few days she hadn't been able to turn on a talk show or a current affairs program without some mention being made of the crusade. It hadn't helped her peace of mind to have Zeke's face staring at her everywhere she turned.
The streets were papered with posters screaming Find My Baby, Please, the title of Zeke's series. Knowing him, she didn't doubt that he would find the stolen children and help the police bring the perpetrators to justice if anyone could.
For herself, Tara had no such hope. Zeke had checked out every possibility, including a baby born within hours of Tara's. If there was anything to be found, she knew he would have found it.
"There was one false lead," she told Carol, hearing her own voice catch. "But the parents had had the baby DNA tested and it was definitely their natural child. Zeke's contact at the hospital showed him a copy of the test results. There's no doubt."
Carol reached across the table, her hand covering Tara's. "I'm so sorry. I had hoped…"
"Me, too," Tara said. "That's why the single flower was so disturbing. Zeke seemed to feel it had to mean something. I haven't seen him since that night, except in the news when I can't avoid it," she told Carol.
Carol guessed what she'd left unsaid. "But you want to?"
"I suppose it makes me a complete idiot?"
Carol smiled. "No more than the usual human kind." She looked at her watch. "I should get back to work, but if you want to talk some more, I'll call and postpone my next appointment. The nanny's with the children, so I can stay if you want."
As the host, Tara paid for their lunch, and shook her head. "Thanks for the offer but how does that song go? I will survive. I'll probably be stronger for it."
Carol regarded her warily. "In my line of work, I've seen people crack who should have held up under pressure. I've also seen people refuse to give in when doing it would ensure them the support they needed. Being strong isn't always a virtue."
"But it is sometimes a necessity." Tara stood up. "Thanks for letting me share this with you."
"Anytime. Goodness knows, you've been there for me often enough since I married your brother."
Tara smiled, thinking that Ben wouldn't appreciate being the subject of their sisterly discussions. But Carol knew she could rely on Tara's discretion, just as Tara relied on hers. She felt a small knot of tension dissolve. "Give the children my love."
"I will. They're still talking about the toys you brought when you came to dinner last week."
It had been the day before the charity auction, Tara remembered with a pang. As she hugged her sister-in-law, Tara tried not to feel jealous of Carol's happy family situation. She had work she loved, a husband who loved her, and two adorable children at home. But Tara had her own life, and it suited her. Mostly. "I will survive," Tara hummed determinedly as she headed back to her car.
She had driven for fifteen minutes before realizing where she was. She hadn't made a conscious decision to visit the memorial park, in fact she'd avoided it since the night she'd come with Zeke, but now she found herself outside the entrance without any clear idea how she got there.
She needed a few minutes of quiet contemplation, she told herself, and got out of the car. Moments later she was seated on her favorite bench close to the memorial wall. Afternoon sunlight glinted through the trees, creating small and oddly appropriate halos around the brass plaques. Contentment began to seep into her and she thanked the instinct that had guided her here.
A currawong's metallic two-note call echoed through the park, forcing her to smile. As a child, she'd been wary of the spindly legged black-and-white birds, refusing to go near them. Now she loved their peculiarly Australian sound. A kookaburra joined in the chorus, its raucous laughter further easing her tension.
She wasn't sure when her feeling of contentment began to erode, but she gradually sensed she was being watched. Uneasily she looked around. A man in dark coveralls was pruning a rosebush on the far side of the park. He looked up briefly then went back to his work. It was probably his presence she had registered.
But when she looked up again he had moved closer. He wasn't pruning the roses, he was merely fiddling with them to create that impression, she saw in a split-second assessment of his empty hands. Alarm coursed through her but she forced herself to stay calm. He could be checking them for bugs, anything.
He edged closer still and she decided enough was enough. As if it had been her intention all along, she rose and began to walk purposefully back to her car. He followed her and her steps quickened.
By the time she reached the park's arched entrance, she had the remote control in her hand and used it to unlock the car. By the time she slid into the front seat and engaged the central locking system, she was breathing like a marathon runner.
Her heart lurched as the stranger jogged up to the car and pounded on the window. "Wait, I want to talk to you." She didn't hesitate,
slamming the car into gear and roaring away, leaving him staring after her, his face a mask of frustration.
She didn't stop until she was safely home again. Telling herself the man got his kicks from accosting women in parks, but was probably harmless, didn't help. She began to wonder if Zeke was right and the mysterious flower did mean something, after all. Her hands shook as she picked up the phone and dialed Zeke's private number.
"Please be there," she murmured, her fingers drumming a tattoo on the tabletop as a recording announced that her call was being diverted to another number.
"Zeke Blaxland."
At the sound of his voice, she almost wept with relief. "Zeke, thank God."
"Tara, you sound terrible. What is it?"
"I feel terrible. I went to visit the park." She knew she didn't have to specify which one. "I was minding my own business, when a man followed me and tried to stop me driving off."
Instead of the reaction of shock she had expected, he let out a rush of breath. "What did the man look like?"
Didn't he care that she might have been attacked or worse? she wanted to scream at the phone. Instead he was ever the journalist, demanding facts. He was Zeke, she reminded herself, and took a steadying breath. "He was a head shorter than you, with sandy-colored, wavy hair almost to his collar," she said, dredging up details she hadn't been aware of absorbing. "His suntan looked fake, as if it came from a sunbed or a bottle." She shuddered, remembering.
"Bill Ellison," Zeke said down the phone.
"What? You know him?"
There was a slight hesitation then he said, "I should. I hired him."
She could hardly believe this. "You hired a pervert in a park?"
"He isn't a pervert. He's a private investigator and a good friend. He helps me dig up background information occasionally. After we found that flower, I asked him to keep an eye on things and report any suspicious activity."
"Why did he follow me and try to stop me from leaving?"
"I showed him your photo. He probably wanted to introduce himself." He paused for a moment, "Or else he had something to report."
