by Miranda Lee
‘Yeah, right,’ he said drily.
Jake winced when Dorothy gave him one of the savage looks she used to give him when he’d first come to live with her. ‘I never took you for a coward, Jake Winters, but you’re beginning to sound and act like one. You do love Angelina. And you love your son, even if you don’t know him yet. Because he’s your flesh and blood. And he loves you for the same reason. The three of you should be together, as a family. The reason Angelina got so stroppy with you yesterday is because that’s what she wants too and she’s afraid it’s not going to happen. She’s afraid her son is going to be hurt. She’s afraid she’s going to be hurt.’
‘Have you finished?’ Jake said ruefully.
‘For tonight,’ Dorothy returned as she stabbed her piece of pie with her dessert fork. ‘There might be another instalment at some time in the future.’
‘God forbid. Did Edward know you were like this?’
‘Of course. Admittedly, he hated it when I was always right.’
Jake laughed. ‘I hate it too.’
Dorothy’s breath caught. And then she let it out very slowly. He did love Angelina. Thank goodness.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ she asked, feigning a composure she was far from feeling.
‘Back off, Dorothy. This coward is still a male animal and likes to do things his way.’
‘I don’t really think you’re a coward.’
‘I know,’ Jake said more softly.
‘Er—do you think I could come to the swimming carnival with you tomorrow?’ Dorothy asked. ‘I would dearly love to see the boy.’
‘Only if you promise not to interfere.’
‘Would I do that?’
‘Yes. Now promise.’
Dorothy sighed. ‘I promise.’
‘OK,’ he agreed, and Dorothy beamed.
She rose and scooped up Jake’s untouched dessert. ‘Coffee?’
‘Mmm. Yes, please,’ he said, watching blankly as Dorothy left the room. He was wondering what Angelina was doing and if she really might love him, as Dorothy said.
‘I hate him,’ Angelina muttered as she slammed the plates into the dishwasher.
‘Hey, watch it with the crockery there, boss!’
‘Let her break a plate or two, Kevin,’ Wilomena advised from where she was scraping the remains of tonight’s meals into the bin. ‘Better than her breaking them over a certain person’s head. Besides, they’re her plates. She can do with them whatever she damned well pleases.’
‘True,’ Angelina growled, and slammed a few more in.
None of them broke. But then, they weren’t as easily broken as other things. Like her heart.
‘The bastard,’ she grumped. ‘How dare he say he had to pretend to be nice to Alex? As if anyone ever has to pretend to be nice to Alex.’
‘Geez, Angelina!’ Kevin exclaimed. ‘Give the man a break.’
‘That’s exactly what she’d like to do,’ Wilomena said drily. ‘Across that stupid skull of his.’
‘You women expect too much of a guy.’
‘No kidding!’ both women chorused.
‘He’ll come round. Just give him time.’
‘Like, how long? A lifetime?’ Wilomena said waspishly. ‘That’s how long it takes for some men to come to the party. If ever.’
‘I think he sounds like an OK guy. He’s going to Alex’s swimming carnival tomorrow, isn’t he?’
‘Big deal,’ Angelina muttered.
‘Yeah, big deal,’ Wilomena echoed.
‘Women!’ Kevin huffed. ‘Impossible to please.’
‘He could please her all right,’ Wilomena said after Angelina had gone home and she and Kevin were stacking away the last of the things. ‘He could tell her he loves her for starters, then ask her to marry him.’
Kevin laughed. ‘You think that would please her? You know what she’d do? She’d throw back at him that he didn’t really love her and he was only marrying her for the kid’s sake. And then she’d say no, like a typical female.’
‘Rubbish! She would not! Not if she loved him. And she does. Trust me on that. Women who love guys don’t say no to a proposal of marriage.’
‘You know, I’m glad to hear you say that,’ Kevin said, and, drawing a small velvet box out of his white coat’s pocket, he dropped to one knee then flipped it open. The cluster of diamonds in the ring glittered like his eyes.
‘Wilomena Jenkins,’ he said, ‘I love you and I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?’
Wilomena didn’t say no. She didn’t say a single word. She was too busy crying.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALEX stood behind the starting blocks with the rest of his relay team, nerves making him shift from foot to foot. He swung his arms in circles to keep his muscles warm, and tried to focus on the race ahead, deliberately keeping his eyes away from the stand where he knew his parents were sitting together watching him, along with the old duck they’d brought with them.
‘Dorothy’s an old friend of mine,’ his dad had introduced her before the meet began.
Old was right. And brother, had she stared at him.
Of course, that was because he looked so much like his dad.
His dad.
Alex scooped in a deep breath and let it out very slowly. It was still almost too good to be true, finding his father like that. He’d been confident that his dad would not be in jail. But he’d never dreamt he’d be a top lawyer. How cool was that? And what about that simply awesome car he drove? The guys at school had been green with envy when he’d rocked up on Thursday in a yellow Ferrari.
He’d felt so proud, introducing his dad around to his friends and teachers. He must have gone to sleep that night with a permanent smile on his face.
Now today was his chance to make his dad proud of him. Alex knew he wasn’t good enough at his school work to line up for too many academic prizes. But he was his school’s best swimmer. He’d already won the hundred-metre sprint. And the two hundred. Now he was lining up for the four-by-one relay, the last race of this meet, and he was swimming the anchor leg.
Kings were in front on the scoreboard. But only by a couple of points. If St Francis’s could win this relay, the cup would be theirs. The trouble was, their second-best hundred-metre swimmer had come down with a virus that morning and they’d had to bring in the first reserve, who was three seconds slower. On paper, they couldn’t possibly win, not unless they all swam above themselves.
Alex wanted to win. He wanted to win so badly.
They were being called up for the start. Alex felt sick. As team captain, he’d made the decision to put their slowest swimmer first, employing the tactic that sometimes a swimmer could swim a personal best if they were chasing. Of course, sometimes the chase theory didn’t work. The behind swimmer tried too hard on the first lap and went lactic in the second.
The gun went off and their first and slowest swimmer was in the water, doing his best but possibly trying too hard. After he’d come in to the changeover several lengths behind, Alex wished he’d made the decision to go first himself. But he soothed his panic with the knowledge that Kings had sent their second-best swimmer off first.
By the second changeover, they’d caught up a couple of lengths. But then disaster happened. Their third swimmer’s foot slipped on the starting block at the changeover, losing them another precious length. By the time he turned to come down for the second lap, he was trailing the Kings boy by a good five lengths. He dug deep, however, and came towards the wall only three lengths behind.
But even as Alex readied himself for the changeover, logic told him that three lengths were still too much. Sure, he’d won the hundred-metre race earlier in the afternoon. But only by a length. How could he possibly find another two lengths?
And then the voice came to him, across the pool, loud and clear.
‘Go for it, son!’
He went, with wings on his feet, making up half a length in the changeover dive alone, coming up with
the Kings swimmer’s feet in his sights. There was no holding back. He wasn’t close enough for fancy tactics, like riding in the other boy’s wash. He put his foot down, his big arms slicing through the water, his even bigger feet churning with a six-beat kick right from the start.
You have to nail the turn, he lectured himself as the wall loomed into view. His lungs were bursting. He’d forgotten to breathe. No time now. He would breathe later, after he’d turned. He tumbled. His feet hit the wall and he was surging forward under the water. Up he eventually came, gasping for air but still swimming like a madman. He had no idea where the Kings boy was now. His head was turned the other way. All he could do was go like the hammers of hell.
His arms were burning. So were his legs. He’d never known such pain. Or such determination. He was going to win, not just for his dad, but also for his mum. He wanted to make her proud as well. Alex knew she’d given up a lot for him, and he wanted her to see that it had been worth it.
Not far now. He could hear the screaming. It had to be close. Just a bit more, Alex. You can do it. Stroke harder. Kick faster. The wall was coming up. Time it right. Dip down, stretch those fingers. You’ve got your dad’s big hands. They have to be good for something.
He touched then exploded upwards, out of the water. He looked up, towards his mother. She had her hands over her face and she looked as if she was crying. His heart sank. He’d lost. He’d given it his all and he’d lost. But then the boy in the next lane was tapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him.
He looked up again. His mum was now wrapped in his dad’s arms and the old duck next to them was grinning like a Cheshire cat, with her hand held up towards Alex in a victory sign.
Alex grinned back at her, his own hand punching up high into the air as he yelled, ‘Go for it, Dad!’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘IS IT always like that?’
Angelina lifted her head at Jake’s question. They were back at his apartment, Angelina having driven there at Jake’s request after the swimming carnival was over. She was sitting on the sleek red leather sofa once more, with a Malibu and Coke cradled in her hands, wondering when she could possibly get up and leave. Just being in this place with Jake, alone, was killing her. She’d thought she hated him this past week but of course she didn’t. She loved him.
‘Always like what?’ she asked, her voice sounding as dead and drained as she was feeling.
‘When your kid does something great. Does it always feel like that?’
‘Like what, exactly?’
‘Like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. Like you’re on top of the world, a world bathed in everlasting sunshine.’
Angelina’s own heart squeezed tight as all the fears which had been gathering that afternoon suddenly crystallised into one big fear.
‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘Yes, it always feels like that.’
Jake sat down on an adjacent armchair with his own drink in his hands. Scotch on ice, by the look of it.
‘We have to talk,’ he said, his tone serious.
‘About what?’ Angelina took a sip of her drink.
‘You. Me. Alex.’
‘Let’s just stick to Alex.’
‘I think we should start with you and me. After all, that’s where Alex started, sixteen years ago.’
‘A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then, Jake.’
‘Yes. It certainly has. We’re different people now, you and me.’
‘One of us is, anyway,’ she bit out, then took another sip.
Jake gritted his teeth. She wasn’t making things easy for him. When she’d cried back at the swimming carnival and he’d taken her into his arms, he’d thought that everything was going to be all right. Alex had clearly thought so, too. And Dorothy. But the moment they were alone together again, she’d withdrawn inside a cold, hard little shell that he just couldn’t penetrate.
Jake decided that a change of tactics was called for.
‘So you’re going to do it again, are you?’ he said sharply.
That got her attention. ‘Do what?’
‘Lie to me.’
‘I never lied to you,’ she said defensively.
‘Yes, you did. By omission. And by implication. Now you’re doing it again.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You’re pretending you don’t care about me. That you don’t love me.’
He watched her mouth drop open; watched the truth flash into her eyes.
‘You do love me,’ he ground out, his voice thick with emotion.
‘I…I…’ She shook her head from side to side, clearly unable to speak the words.
‘You love me and you’re going to marry me.’
‘Marry you!’ She jumped to her feet, her drink sloshing all over the rug. ‘I am not going to marry you. When and if I marry, it will be to a man who loves me as much as I love him. And not because he covets my son. Oh, yes, I saw the way you looked at Alex today, Jake Winters, and I knew. I knew in my heart that you wanted my boy, not just for a weekend here and there but all the time. That was why I was crying so much.’
Jake snatched the glass out of her shaking hands and rammed it down on a nearby table along with his own drink before glowering at her with fury in his eyes and frustration in his heart.
‘I’ve heard enough of this rubbish!’ he roared. ‘I do love you, woman. I probably love you even more than you love me! If you don’t believe me, then come here…’ Grabbing her hand, he dragged her with him into the bedroom, where he yanked open the top drawer of his bedside chest.
‘I don’t think that showing me how many condoms you’ve bought is proof of love,’ she said scathingly as she tried to tug her hand out of his. But he refused to let it go.
His producing a ring box and flipping it open to show a spectacular diamond engagement ring shut her up. But not for long.
‘Good try, Jake. Good move, too. I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re clever.’
Jake dropped the ring box on the bed, grabbed a piece of paper from the drawer and shoved it into her hands. ‘That’s the sales receipt. Care to check the date?’
Angelina’s eyes dropped to the date. Wednesday. He’d bought the ring on Wednesday.
She looked up, tears in her eyes. ‘You bought this before Alex went to see you?’
Jake had to steel himself against his own rush of emotion. ‘I wanted to tell you I loved you and wanted to marry you last weekend. But I was afraid of rushing you. I thought you needed time. I was prepared to give you all the time in the world. But then I walked past this jewellery-shop window and saw this ring and I just had to buy it for you. When I put it in this drawer, I told myself I didn’t care how long I had to wait till you wore it, as long as you eventually did.’
‘Oh…’ More tears rushed in, spilling over.
He wiped them away with his fingers, then curved his hands over her shoulders. ‘I love you, Angelina Mastroianni. And you love me. So I’m not going to give you any more time. We’ve already wasted sixteen years.’ He reached to extract the diamond ring from the box and slipped it on her left hand. It fitted perfectly. ‘We’re going to be married. Not hurriedly. Magnificently. Next spring. In St Mary’s Cathedral. But that’s just a ceremony. From this moment on, you are my woman, and I am your man, exclusively, till death do us part.’
‘Till death us do part,’ she repeated dazedly.
‘Now tell me you love me.’
‘I love you.’
He sighed and drew her into his arms, his lips burrowing into her hair. ‘I think you should show me how much.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SEPTEMBER—the first month of spring down under—was an iffy month for weather in Sydney. Often cold. Often rainy. But occasionally brilliant.
St Mary’s Cathedral had never looked better than it did that September afternoon, bathed in sunshine, the nearby gardens just beginning to blossom. But nothing could match the splendour of the bride as she carefu
lly mounted the cathedral steps.
Her dress was white chiffon, with a draped bodice and a long, flowing skirt that fell from straight under her impressive bustline. Her dark hair was sleekly up, with a diamanté tiara as decoration. Her veil was very long and sheer. Her neck was bare, but delicate diamond and pearl drops fell from her lobes.
She looked exquisite. She also looked nervous, which enhanced that glorious air of innocence that often clung to brides, even those who were secretly five months pregnant.
‘I never appreciated till now,’ she said to Wilomena, ‘just how nerve-racking weddings are. If I hadn’t had your help today, I’d never have been ready in time.’
‘That’s what bridesmaids are for,’ Wilomena returned, busily fluffing out the bridal veil. ‘I’ll be relying on you for the same help when Kevin and I tie the knot later in the year.’
Angelina smiled at the girl who had fast gone from employee to confidante to best friend. ‘My pleasure. And might I say that burgundy colour really suits you, despite your doubts? The style, too.’
Wilomena’s dress was chiffon as well, calf-length, with a low neckline, spaghetti straps and a long, flowing scarf that draped softly around her throat and hung down to the hem at the back
‘Mmm. Yes. I’m forced to agree. Kevin said he can’t wait to get it off me later tonight,’ she whispered.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Alex said, and took his mother’s arm. ‘Stop the girlie chit-chat. We don’t want to keep Dad waiting too long. He was champing at the bit this morning.’
