Mistress: At What Price?

by Anne Oliver

  Not if he could help it. He’d just been handed the greatest challenge of his life and he wasn’t backing down.

  He jack-knifed out of his chair, snapping open his mobile while he walked to the door, barely aware of Justin staring at him as if he’d just lost his mind. Maybe he had lost it for a moment, but now he had it back.

  ‘Mate. Friend. You’re just what I needed.’ With a headflick, he motioned Jus out. ‘Excuse me, I need to make a very important call.’ Maybe the most important call of his life.

  The instant Justin stepped out, Dane slammed the door shut behind him while he punched in his home number. No answer. He slapped a thigh as impatience simmered through him. Now he knew what he had to do he couldn’t wait to get on with it. He tried Mariel’s mobile. No answer; his call was directed to her voicemail.

  Clenching his fist, he paced to the desk and spoke into the phone. ‘Mariel, I’ve been a bloody idiot. Call me when you get this. I need to see you. ASAP.’ Something this important had to be said face to face. He checked his watch. Damn. ‘On second thought, don’t, I’ve got a meeting coming up. I’ll phone you when it’s finished.’ He closed his eyes. I love you, Queen Bee.

  Mariel clenched her hands around the steering wheel, struggling to keep the car in a straight line. The thermometer indicated that it was forty-two degrees outside. Even the air-conditioner failed to cool the interior as hot wind snuck in through the cracks and a hazy sun glared through the windscreen. A branch skidded across the road in front of her. Her mouth was dry, but she dared not let her tensed fingers stray from the wheel to reach for her bottled water.

  Finally she parked outside Daniel’s house. And stepped out into hell on earth.

  A relentless January sun had baked the sky bone-white and sucked the earth dry. She stood a few seconds, her pulse stepping up as she stared in rising horror at the shimmering dust haze shrouding the usually beautiful landscape.

  A tinderbox. One spark…

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured. But the wind, a terrifying banshee of blistering heat, whipped the words from her mouth with the same fury as it ripped through trees and sent debris flying through the air like missiles.

  She reached the front door, but no one answered her frantic knocks so she ran to the back. Dane’s father was lying in the full sun with the hose in his hand, water spraying on the muddy earth beside him. ‘Daniel!’ she heard herself scream, and dropped to her knees beside him. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Don’t want the house to burn. Mariel?’ He peered up at her with pale watery eyes.

  ‘There’s no fire, Daniel,’ she soothed, but her pulse was hammering in her throat. ‘Come on.’ She tried to tug him up, but he wasn’t going anywhere on his own. She levered herself beneath one shoulder and dragged him a few metres into the shade. The effort left her dazed and breathless, but she unscrewed the top on her water and held the bottle to his lips. ‘Here, drink.’

  He gulped a couple of mouthfuls, then lay back. She poured the rest of the water onto a wad of tissues she found in her bag and wiped his face, then felt for his pulse. It galloped beneath her fingers. She pulled her mobile from her bag and rang for an ambulance. Then she phoned Dane. Damn him, why wasn’t his bloody phone on? She left a message to inform him about his father, then hauled herself up, swaying a little as spots danced before her eyes.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she told Daniel, dry-mouthed, then ran inside and found a towel, soaked it in water and rushed back outside.

  ‘You’re a good woman for Dane,’ he mumbled while she laid the towel across his body. ‘Dane’s all I have. Should’ve been a better…father…’ He frowned. ‘Head hurts.’

  ‘It’s going to be okay,’ she told him, closing her eyes. But she didn’t feel a hundred percent herself, and that queasy feeling was back. ‘Help’s coming.’

  Finally she heard the wail of the siren over the screaming wind. Dragging herself up, she staggered to the driveway to usher the ambulance around the back.

  The paramedics jumped out and checked Daniel over. ‘Mild heat exhaustion,’ the older man said. ‘Lucky we got here when we did. Is he your granddad?’

  ‘No. My…partner’s father.’

  ‘So you don’t live here?’

  She shook her head. ‘He lives alone. I came by to check on him.’

  ‘Lucky break. We’ll take him in for observation, get some fluids into him, but it looks like he’s going to be okay.’

  The younger guy glanced at her. A small frown creased his brow, concern in his light blue eyes. ‘You okay? Here. Drink this.’ He handed her a bottle of water.

  ‘Thanks.’ She drank deeply, swiped the sweat off her neck, her face, took a deep steadying breath. She shifted her stance to relieve the dull ache in her abdomen. ‘I’ll be okay in a minute.’ She watched, sliding sweaty palms together while they loaded Daniel into the nearby ambulance.

  Dane, where are you?

  ‘Hey,’ said a deep voice near her ear. ‘I think you should ride along with us and let me check you over, too.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ It was like trying to breathe in an oven. Spots danced in front of her eyes. Firm hands helped her up. He passed her handbag to her. ‘You want to call your partner? Let him know what’s going on?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll leave a message.’

  An hour later she stood looking out at the dust-ravaged panorama from the fourth-floor hospital window while Daniel slept. He was staying in overnight and going to be okay, but he couldn’t go back home. He needed rest and care and monitoring over the next few days. And she was going to ask Dane if his father could go home with him. No, she wasn’t going to ask. She was going to demand. There were plenty of spare rooms. If necessary he could have her room.

  And if Dane refused she’d go home with Daniel herself, if only to show Dane what an idiot he was. What both men were, when it came to that. It was so important for them to re-establish some kind of a relationship. He was going to be her child’s grandfather, and somehow it had fallen on her shoulders to take the first steps towards making a family unit, even if that ‘unit’ was likely to be spread in three different locations across the city.

  Abruptly she felt the floor heave beneath her. She sank onto the visitor’s chair, blinking away an encroaching grey mist. The twinge she’d barely noticed this morning suddenly took on a more sinister meaning. No! Tears gathered in her eyes as the mist grew darker. She’d had little sleep and a rough morning; that was all. That. Was. All.

  She reached out and pressed the nurses’ call button before she crumpled over.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DANE marched through the hospital foyer, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, the smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils. He could barely contain his frustration. Mariel hadn’t called back—a situation that didn’t bode well for the resolution he’d hoped for.

  He’d put his heart on the line in that phone call. But obviously that wasn’t enough. She expected him to grovel. And right now he was desperate enough to do just that. Once in a lifetime monumental measures were needed to achieve a monumental outcome. He hoped. By God, he hoped.

  So while he waited for the elevator he arranged for a delivery of flowers. He made a reservation at one of Mariel’s favourite restaurants while the lift carried him to the fourth floor.

  At the nurses’ station the petite nurse blushed when he smiled at her. He enquired about his father’s room, then promptly forgot her. He could be out of here in ten minutes once he saw his father and assured himself the old goat was okay. The problem of care could be sorted out tomorrow—

  ‘You’re Mr Daniel Huntington’s son?’ a voice asked behind him, before he’d taken more than a few steps. Barely curbing his impatience, Dane turned his head, continued walking. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dane?’ It was the same blushing nurse, with her efficient-looking clipboard in her hand, but this time she appeared more flustered than dazzled. ‘And Ms Mariel Davenport is your partner?’


  His mouth tightened infinitesimally. Had he met her somewhere? A function? He couldn’t recall. ‘Yes to both questions,’ he clipped.

  She nodded, Ms Cool and Professional now. ‘Will you come with me, please?’

  ‘Is Mariel here?’ He stopped, swivelled to look at her.

  She didn’t meet his eyes; they were focused on the board in her hands. ‘If you’ll just come with me…’

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked as he entered the elevator with her.

  ‘To the first floor.’ She watched the numbers light up as they descended. He sensed her relief when the doors whooshed open. ‘Just speak to one the nurses here; they’re expecting you,’ she said, pointing to the nurses’ station. ‘They’ll answer all your questions.’ He stepped out and she shuffled back. He had a fleeting glimpse of her watching him as the doors closed again.

  ‘Hey…’ He turned his attention in the direction she’d indicated, saw a couple of staff glance his way, then lean confidentially towards one another, speaking quietly.

  He ran a hand around the back of his neck to soothe the sudden tension there then strode towards them. He wanted answers, but he had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard.

  A middle-aged nurse with sheep’s wool hair and purple-rimmed glasses met him halfway. ‘Mr Huntington.’

  He nodded curtly. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Ms Davenport has been admitted.’ She started walking. ‘She’s through here.’

  ‘Admitted? Why?’ he demanded. ‘What happened? How is she?’ Good God, didn’t anyone around here know how to give a straight answer?

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ the nurse reassured him when he ran out of words, stopping at the door to a private room. ‘She’s awake. I’ll let her tell you.’

  He came to a halt beside the bed. Mariel was one strong woman, and seeing her in a pink and white striped hospital gown, hooked up to a drip, face pale, eyes dull, looking vulnerable and lost, nearly brought him to his knees.

  He dropped into the visitor’s chair. It scraped across the linoleum as he pulled it close. ‘What happened—and why the hell didn’t someone call me?’

  ‘Because I told them not to.’ She looked away, to the dull sky thickening with ominous clouds. ‘I didn’t want to see you. I wanted to be alone. I still want to be alone.’

  His chest tightened further. ‘No. I’m not letting you be alone, because you don’t really mean that.’

  ‘I do.’ Her fingers tightened on the sheet. ‘You’ll be relieved to know I lost the baby.’

  No. Not that. A black hole opened inside him. His heart dropped to his shoes. He’d been offered something precious and he’d been too blind to see it until it was too late. Worse, much worse, he’d hurt the woman he loved with his unspeakably selfish behaviour. ‘Mariel. Sweetheart…I’m sorry.’ Such inadequate words to express the mountain of emotion, his pain.

  Her pain.

  He took her hand, chafed it between his. It felt small and fragile, the way she looked right now. She never looked fragile. But at this moment she did. Her face was too pale, her eyes too haunted. ‘If I could change anything in the world I’d turn back time—just one day, if that’s all I could have, and start over.’

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘A pretty fairytale. So why say it? Because you think you might magically change your mind about being a father? Hardly. Because you think it’ll make me feel better? It doesn’t.’

  He leaned closer, breathed in the scent of her skin. ‘When I rang you it was because I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you something important.’

  ‘You didn’t ring me.’

  ‘I left a voice message. You didn’t get it?’

  She shook her head and her lips thinned. ‘It may have escaped your attention, but I was far too busy dealing with an emergency to check for messages. Your father could have died out there alone today.’

  ‘He didn’t—thanks to you.’

  ‘So…what was it that was so important?’ She weighted the last word and turned away as she spoke. Her cold dismissal was like a kick in the gut.

  ‘Damn it, Mariel.’ He pulled her bag from the bedside locker, switched on her phone. ‘Here.’ He shoved it in her hand. ‘Listen.’

  He watched her face. Nothing but cool remoteness in her eyes. ‘So…the “bloody idiot” bit I already know. Apart from that, your message doesn’t tell me a thing.’

  ‘You didn’t pay attention to the way it was delivered. What I really wanted to say couldn’t be said over the phone. And you understand that as well as I.’

  She gave an infinitesimal nod. ‘Okay. Tell me now.’

  ‘I wanted to tell you that I wanted to make a life with you and the bab—’ He bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

  He saw her chest—a quick movement, as if she’d gasped—but her face remained an impassive mask, her eyes fixed somewhere outside the window.

  Appalled. He was appalled. ‘I’m sorry. But I meant what I said. With all my heart, I meant what I said.’

  A long silence filled the room. ‘It’s easy to say that now, isn’t it?’

  ‘You think it’s easy?’ He jerked off the chair, pushed his hands through his hair and told the ceiling, ‘Nothing with you is easy.’

  Frustration consumed him. He could understand where she was coming from. With no pregnancy, his words were empty words. No longer applicable. Some might say he was off the hook.

  He didn’t want to be cast off. He wanted everything back the way it had been this morning. With the woman he intended spending the rest of his life with, raising their child.

  And somehow he was going to make at least the first part happen.

  He spun back to the bed, sat down on the covers and reached for her hand. A sense of urgency hammered at him. He had a plan, a last chance, but he needed a little time to put it into action. ‘You saved Dad, sweetheart. Life is priceless.’

  ‘Yes. It is.’ Her eyes filled. ‘Do something for me.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Go and see your father.’

  He nodded, pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘I’ll be back.’

  ‘Dad.’ Dane sat down beside the old man. ‘You’ve had an eventful day, I hear.’

  His father opened his eyes. ‘Dane.’ His bony shoulders visibly relaxed and his papery lips curved just a little.

  ‘And we have Mariel to thank for that.’ He clenched his jaw around the words.

  ‘She’s a jewel of a girl, that one.’

  So…his dad didn’t know Mariel had collapsed in his room? ‘She is. So what the hell were you doing, watering the garden in forty-plus degrees?’

  ‘Protecting your assets. One spark and it could’ve all been gone.’

  ‘I never asked you to protect it,’ Dane growled, then softened when he saw his father’s expression. ‘It’s just a house, Dad. I’ve been thinking of selling it. Too many bad memories.’

  His father’s eyes searched his, then he nodded, seemingly defeated.

  Dane picked up the water pitcher, refilled his father’s glass. ‘You shouldn’t be there on your own. You could move down to the city. North Adelaide. Lots of history. Convenient. Plenty of parks and shopping close by.’

  ‘Well, now.’ He scratched his jaw. ‘Maybe.’

  Dane wandered to the window and looked out over the night-drenched Botanic Gardens, crouched in shadow. Heard himself saying, ‘Plenty of spare rooms at my place.’

  A long silence. ‘You’d do that? For me? After everything that’s happened?’

  The wonder, the hope in his father’s voice, made him want to reach out. He dug his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. ‘Maybe.’

  His father had made the first move on the night of the ball. They’d made progress over that game of chess. ‘It would come with conditions.’ He turned to his father, but didn’t step closer. ‘The brewer who had the house built back in the 1870s raised nine children there. It’s a good old-fashioned family home. With good old-fashioned family values.�
�� He nodded to his father and walked to the door. ‘Think long and hard about that.’

  ‘Good morning, Mariel.’ A young nurse with a mass of red hair and a row of studs in her left ear set a tray on the bedside table. ‘My name’s Tara and I’ll be looking after you this morning.’

  ‘Good morning.’ Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Mariel glanced at the clock. ‘Six o’clock already? That sedative last night put me right out.’

  ‘The doctor didn’t prescribe you a sedative last night.’ Tara smiled as she did her morning obs and jotted notes on the clipboard at the foot of the bed. ‘Spare a thought for your poor guy. He didn’t look like he’d slept a wink.’

  Mariel knew that look. Long mussed hair, thirteen-o’clock shadow. Soft mouth, hang-dog eyes that made you want to push him back onto the mattress, cuddle into that warmth and make love till—

  ‘Dane was here?’

  Tara lowered the sheet. ‘All night on that chair, according to the night nurse. You just missed him. He left about twenty minutes ago.’

  He must have gone home at some point, Mariel realised, because she spotted her cosmetic bag and a change of clothes on the shelf in front of the mirror.

  Tara pulled the sheet back up, patted Mariel’s leg. ‘Bleeding’s stopped.’

  ‘Does that mean I can go home today?’ she asked, with a listless glance towards the window. Where was home? She no longer knew.

  ‘Dr Martinez will let you know when she makes her rounds this morning. She’s requested a blood test first,’ she said, preparing a syringe.

  Mariel leaned back against the pillow. ‘Oh, goody.’

  ‘And then she wants you to have an ultrasound.’

  A short time later Mariel watched the unreadable image on the monitor.

  ‘Baby?’ Mariel stared at the monitor, then looked at the technician. ‘I’m still pregnant?’

  ‘You are. It’s not recognisable yet,’ the technician said. ‘But see this thickening here?’

  ‘I’m still pregnant?’ Her heart thundered with renewed hope. With joy. ‘But I had bleeding…’ She couldn’t read the blur, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the monitor.