by Margaret Way
Nell dismissed this with an airy wave. ‘Oh, that’s just Jacob. He’s an old friend from way back.’
‘Old friend, huh? Every woman should be so lucky.’
‘We were both at a funeral,’ Nell added, hoping to dampen her neighbour’s unwelcome enthusiasm.
Rosie simply shrugged.
And Nell tried to look just as nonchalant. She knew the subject of her going to Koomalong would resurface today, but her feelings about it were as confused as ever.
Rosie’s eyes narrowed as if she sensed Nell’s troubled thoughts. ‘These blasts from the past can be unsettling, can’t they?’
‘Sometimes,’ Nell agreed, and then, because she wanted to deflect the conversation right away from Jacob Tucker, she added, ‘I’m going to have another man in my life.’
‘Well, you don’t muck about.’
‘This fellow’s seven weeks old.’
There was a second’s puzzled silence before Rosie shrieked, ‘A baby!’
Behind her back, Nell crossed her fingers as she stretched the truth. ‘I’m adopting a baby boy.’
‘But that’s fantastic, Nell. It’s wonderful.’
‘I’m probably going to need loads of advice, Rosie.’ Nell had helped out with friends’ babies, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d changed a nappy. Rosie, as the mother of three boisterous little boys, had to be an expert.
‘Oh, honey, it’s always a little scary when you first bring a tiny baby home, but you can count on me. I’d love to help and the timing’s perfect as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been hopelessly clucky lately, but Fred won’t consider another mouth to feed.’
‘You’ll have to come and cuddle Sam then.’
‘I’d adore to. Sing out any time you want a hand.’
‘You can count on it.’
‘So—everything’s fine, son?’
Jacob’s phone rang just as he was finishing his morning coffee in a café on the South Bank.
‘Really fine,’ he told his mother.
‘And the—funeral went—well?’
‘Actually, yes. I’m glad I came down here for it.’
‘That’s a relief.’
Given that Maggie had urged him to attend Tegan’s funeral, this reaction was puzzling.
‘I don’t suppose you knew anyone there?’
Ahhh … now his dear mother was fishing, and almost certainly she was angling for news of Nell.
Casting a hasty glance at the diners breakfasting nearby, Jacob rose. ‘Hang on a sec.’ He set money to cover breakfast and a generous tip beside his coffee cup, strode out of the café and on to the paved embankment beside the Yarra. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ his mother said eagerly and, before Jacob could utter another word, she asked, ‘Did you see Nell?’
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘And she’s well.’
‘Jacob, for heaven’s sake, you know you’ve got to tell me more than that.’
Yes. Jacob totally understood her need for details. His mother had suffered almost as much as he had when they had been forced to leave Half Moon two decades ago. But how did he begin to tell her about Nell without telling her about Sam? And once he began talking about Sam, how did he stop himself from telling her about his proposition that Nell should live with him at Koomalong, about the stalemate they’d reached?
There was no point in stirring her unnecessarily.
His mother, however, had her own questions. ‘Did Nell tell you she’s divorced, Jacob?’
He felt his jaw unhinge. ‘Yes, she did. How long have you known that?’
‘Not long,’ she replied airily. And then her voice dropped. ‘Be careful, son. It wouldn’t be easy to walk away from Nell again.’
‘I’m not a crazy kid any more. Don’t start worrying about ancient history.’
Disheartening silence followed this and then his mother sighed into the phone. ‘Don’t—don’t hope for too much. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt like that again.’
‘Not a chance.’ Jacob watched a group of schoolboys laughing and joshing as they took the pedestrian bridge over the river. ‘To start with, old Harrington’s not likely to come after me with a shotgun.’
There was an annoyed huff on the other end of the line. ‘You know I didn’t mean that.’
‘Don’t worry, this is very low-key. Nell and I have talked. That’s all. We had a lot to catch up on.’
‘I dare say. So—when are you heading back to Koomalong?’
‘Ah—soon. Possibly in the next day or so.’
There was silence on the other end. Jacob said, ‘I’ll call you as soon as I’ve settled everything here.’
‘All right. But Jacob—’
‘Yes?’
‘Just remember that life moves on. It has to. You can’t recapture the past.’
How could he not remember that the past was lost to him? It was emblazoned on his brain in flashing neon lights. ‘I’ll remember,’ he said.
Nell was grateful that her neighbour was a comrade in arms, but when she went back to her kitchen her optimism took a dive. She washed up the cereal bowl and mug she’d used for breakfast and confusion returned to settle on her shoulders like a ghostly blackbird.
Ambrose came into the kitchen and rubbed his silky flanks against her legs.
‘What should I do, Ambrose?’ She felt only a little foolish that she voiced the question aloud. ‘Would I be horribly selfish if I stayed here in Melbourne and kept the baby to ourselves?’
Ambrose’s mouth yawned wide in a silent miaow.
Nell sighed and told herself she was being sensible rather than selfish. She and Jacob could never recapture their youth. Their attraction back then might have been a spontaneous combustion, but it had been fuelled by the thrill of forbidden love, of youthful longing and secret trysts.
How different now—a practical arrangement between grandparents to facilitate caring for a baby. Nothing could be less romantic. There would be disappointment all round.
Anyway, it was arrogant of Jacob to assume that she could move easily, as if it were simply a matter of packing up her fabrics and sewing machine and abandoning her house and her friends for a whole month. His suggestion was preposterous. Was he really imagining that they could resume a relationship?
Nell closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the sink as a wave of heat rolled through her.
Help. This was what worried her most, wasn’t it?
Jacob had given her one tiny kiss and she’d practically gone into orbit. She was as susceptible to Jacob’s sexiness now as she’d been at nineteen.
But what if his proposed experiment at Koomalong didn’t work out? She would be devastated and she couldn’t risk that kind of pain again. And Sam might suffer too. Tiny babies were sensitive to their environment.
But then she remembered Jacob’s disappointment yesterday. His pain.
We were never a part of our daughter’s life.
As if that thought was the cue, a knock sounded on her front door. Nell thought she might cry as she hurried to answer it.
Jacob looked like heaven in blue jeans. ‘Morning, ma’am. I believe you have a cot with dodgy wing-nuts?’
Each time she saw him she felt like a giddy schoolgirl—thumping heart, fluttering stomach, legs without bones. She gripped the door handle as Jacob held a pair of pliers high, like a trophy.
He was cool and relaxed, his manner almost flippant, and she didn’t understand why or how that was possible. Yesterday, he had delayed this task because he’d wanted to settle everything about Sam. Last night they’d settled nothing and had parted uneasily.
So what did this apparent relaxation mean? Was Jacob putting on a brave face, or was he having second thoughts about Koomalong? Maybe he’d decided he’d be happy for her to care for Sam here in Melbourne. And maybe she had avoidance issues, but these weren’t questions she wanted to ask.
‘Come on in,’ she said with a gesture for him to follow her down the
hall.
With the purposeful lack of curiosity of a hired tradesman, Jacob headed straight for the cot in her bedroom.
Arms folded over her stomach, Nell leant a shoulder against the door frame and watched as he gave the cot a businesslike test rattle, then proceeded to tighten the wing nuts with the pliers.
She couldn’t help admiring the way he worked. His hands were quick and efficient and she had a grandstand view of his back, so she could see the outline of his muscles rippling beneath his thin T-shirt and the breathtaking fit of his jeans. She concentrated on the back of his head.
But that was no help. His hair was dark brown, with no sign of thinning, and she liked the way it had been cut, making a neat, straight line—so masculine—across the back of his suntanned neck.
The job was done in a minute flat.
Jacob straightened and his grey eyes twinkled. ‘The little fellow should be safe in there now.’
‘Thank you.’ Nell moistened her dry lips with her tongue.
Jacob watched her, then flicked his gaze to something beyond her left shoulder. ‘How will you transport Sam? Do you have one of those special baby carriers for the car?’
‘Yes. I tried to fit it yesterday afternoon, but I’m not totally confident I got it right. I—I wonder if you’d mind checking that it’s secure?’
He nodded. ‘Lead the way.’
Again, his readiness to help without question puzzled Nell.
‘We still haven’t sorted out where Sam’s going to live,’ she said when Jacob pronounced the baby carrier safe and ready for action.
He gave a slow shrug. ‘You’ll need a day or two to get used to him here. Let’s take it one step at a time.’
‘Just remember I haven’t promised anything about coming to Queensland.’
‘I know.’
‘Jean might be very upset if she thought you were planning to take Sam all the way up there.’
Jacob nodded thoughtfully.
‘As it is, she’s going to be upset, handing over Sam.’
‘You’re right.’ He looked sober as he considered this, but then he shrugged again. ‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we?’
Jean’s response surprised them both.
‘Why not?’ she said.
Nell stammered. ‘W-we th-thought Queensland would be too far away from you.’
‘But Tegan was very excited when she learned that Jacob was a cattleman. She loved the country. She went fruit picking after she finished school and I don’t think she wanted to come back to the city. She actually told me once that she wished Sam could grow up in the country.’
‘Really?’ Nell’s voice sounded as shaky as she felt.
‘Oh, yes, dear.’ Jean looked from one to the other and smiled knowingly. ‘I’m sure Tegan would have loved to know you two were looking after Sam together. I forgot to tell you, Jacob. Sam’s full name is Samuel Jacob.’
Jacob looked as stunned as Nell felt.
‘And do you know what I think?’ Jean asked them.
‘What?’ they replied in unison.
‘Sam’s a very lucky little boy. There was always a chance that neither of you would be interested in him. But to have both of you so keen to love him and take care of him—’ Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling.
‘Nothing’s decided about Queensland yet,’ Nell felt compelled to explain.
‘Well, please don’t keep Sam in Melbourne on my account. I know Tegan would have loved him to live in the Outback.’ As an afterthought, Jean said, ‘But if you went to Jacob’s property, you’d keep in touch, wouldn’t you? And you’d come back to sort things out with the courts?’
‘Absolutely,’ Nell and Jacob said together.
Over the next half hour, while they drank tea, Jean told them about Sam’s milk formula and sleep patterns, his weight gains and immunisations.
Not wanting to forget anything, Nell took careful notes. But eventually Jean ran out of information.
‘I’m repeating myself,’ she said when she told them about Sam’s weight gains for the third time. ‘I think I’ve said enough. It’s probably best if we make the handover quick and simple,’ she said bravely. ‘I’m not sure I could handle a prolonged farewell.’
Nell couldn’t believe how suddenly nervous she felt, as if she were about to audition for a part in a play and had only remembered at the last minute that she hadn’t learned her lines. Her heart knocked painfully as Jean extracted the sleeping Sam from his cot. She held her breath as he was handed to her.
Oh, how soft and warm and cuddly he was.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, tears falling unchecked as she kissed Jean. ‘Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take good care of him and I’ll definitely keep in touch.’
‘Yes, dear. Feel free to ring me any time.’
Nothing felt real as they left the house and stowed a sports bag of baby clothes and nappies into Nell’s car, plus another filled with formula and sterilising solution and bottles. Then they settled Sam into the baby carrier in the back of the car.
‘Will you drive?’ she asked Jacob. ‘I’d like to keep an eye on Sam.’ It was only half the truth. She felt too shaky and excited to take control of a vehicle and she had to get this right. Sam was such a huge responsibility.
‘Sure,’ Jacob said, smiling and holding his hand out for the keys.
As she snapped her seat belt, she spoke over her shoulder. ‘We’re taking you home, Sam.’
CHAPTER SIX
HOME.
Jacob turned in the driver’s seat and his gaze met Nell. The unresolved question hung in the air between them. Where should Sam’s home be?
Her throat constricted. When they got back to her cottage, they would have to finish their discussion, find an answer.
She looked down at her hands while Jacob started the car and they headed off, down the street.
‘At least he’s a good sleeper,’ he said as they turned the corner.
‘So far, so good.’
Right now, Sam looked angelic as he lay in his baby carrier on the back seat, his fine blond hair gleaming softly in the sunlight that streamed through the rear window and his pink mouth pouting a bubble of milk.
But they had hardly left Thornbury before he squirmed and pulled a face that made him look ridiculously like a very wrinkled old man.
‘Sam’s looking unhappy,’ Nell announced nervously. ‘He’s squirming and moving,’
‘I should think he would want to move.’ Jacob smiled wryly as he took off at a green light.
‘But he’s turning red.’ Nell didn’t want to be nervous, but she’d had next to no practical experience with babies. ‘I think he’s waking up.’
‘He has to wake some time.’
‘But he shouldn’t be waking now, should he? I thought babies were supposed to sleep in cars. Isn’t something about the motion supposed to make them sleepy?’
As she said this, a tiny squawk emitted from the back seat. Scant seconds later, it was followed by a much louder wail. Then a full-bodied squawk. And another.
Oh, help! Was Sam missing Jean already? What should she do? He looked so distressed and sounded so miserable.
Nell wondered if she should ask Jacob to stop the car. They shouldn’t just drive on, callously letting the baby cry, should they? Twisting in her seat, she watched Sam’s small hand waving above him like a distress signal. She reached back and tried to catch it with her little finger.
‘There, there,’ she crooned as his fingers brushed the tips of hers. She dropped her hand lower and he clasped her little finger in a tight tiny fist.
It was lovely to feel him clutching her, needing her. ‘You’re all right, little man, don’t cry.’ How relieved she would be if she could pacify him.
Sam’s wails grew stronger and louder, his face redder. He let go of her finger and his hand stiffened, fingers outstretched, imploring.
‘He can’t be hungry,’ she said. ‘Jean was quite certain that he doesn’t need a feed fo
r another hour or more.’
‘Maybe it’s wind,’ Jacob suggested matter-of-factly.
How did he know about such things?
‘Perhaps we’d better stop and see what the problem is.’ Nell cast a doubtful eye over the busy lanes of traffic.
Jacob lifted his voice over Sam’s cries. ‘The Botanic Gardens aren’t far away. How about I head over there? At least it will get us out of this traffic.’
‘Yes!’ Nell nodded gratefully. ‘That’s a good idea.’
Sam cries were ear-splitting by the time they pulled into the car park at the Royal Botanic Gardens. People getting into a car nearby turned to stare at them.
Nell flew out of her seat and fumbled with the straps binding Sam into his carrier. ‘What’s the matter, little man?’
Lifting him up, she felt his little body go rigid in her arms. It was like trying to cuddle a brick—a screaming brick. Nell tucked a muslin wrap around him and joggled him gently against her shoulder. She patted his back and when he didn’t calm down she felt a shaft of real panic. She knew babies cried but she’d never heard one as upset as this.
What was wrong with him? He’d been fed, his nappy was dry. He couldn’t have developed a dreadful disease in the short time since they’d left the Brownes’.
What if she couldn’t calm him?
Jacob joined her and she shot him a frantic glance. He smiled, but she knew he must be thinking that her mothering skills were sub-zero.
‘Why don’t we take him for a walk?’ he suggested.
‘A walk? When he’s screaming? Do you think it would help?’
‘It’s worth a try. You never know, it might soothe him.’
Nell directed a doubtful glare at the sweeping lawns, the majestic elms and oaks and the path circling the ornamental lake. The early morning rain had finished soon after breakfast and it was a lovely summer’s day. Melburnians were out in force, enjoying their favourite parkland—joggers and parents pushing prams, toddlers entranced by the teeming birdlife—lots of babies, lots of small children. Only Sam was screaming.
Jacob didn’t seem perturbed by the baby’s uproar. He threw a protective arm around Nell’s shoulders and she felt absurdly grateful for his reassuring presence. He clicked the remote control to lock the car doors and they began to walk, their footsteps in time as they crossed the gravelled car park to the path.
