The Pregnancy Discovery

by Barbara Hannay

  The following week, Ellen brought Sam’s mail through to his office and, instead of quietly placing it at one end of his desk and leaving again without disturbing him, she stood, holding a small square parcel and tapping it with a fingernail.

  ‘This looks familiar,’ she intoned darkly.

  Sam jerked his attention away from the figures he was analysing. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This parcel looks remarkably like something you asked me to post a couple of weeks ago and it has Australian stamps.’ She handed it to him.

  A pulse in Sam’s neck began to beat as he jumped to his feet. ‘Thanks, Ellen.’

  He waited till she’d gone before he opened it. With a sickening sense of foreboding, he ripped the paper off the package. Inside was a polite little note from Meg and the sapphire pendant he’d sent her, carefully boxed and rewrapped!

  He sank into a chair as he read and reread her note. Short and to the point, it covered the basic courtesies and managed to politely refuse his gift without any proper explanation. It was as impersonal as a bank statement.

  It was a savage slap in the face!

  With an angry cry, Sam tossed the note and its lilac-coloured envelope onto his desk and charged across the room. He hurt like hell! And the pain wasn’t merely the smarting of a bruised ego.

  Damn it! He really liked Meg. He liked her a lot. Maybe more than a lot. If he wasn’t so tied up with this business, he’d be back there now finding out exactly how he felt about her.

  Checking his watch, he calculated the differences between the time zones in Seattle and eastern Australia, reached for the phone on his desk and dialled.

  When Fred Raynor grumbled into the phone, Sam asked to be put through to Meg.

  ‘She’s not here.’ Fred barked the words out.

  ‘Is she on leave?’

  ‘No, mate. Resigned. She left last week. Just handed in her notice and took off.’

  Sam felt as if he’d been hurled from a plane without a parachute. ‘Why?’ he managed to croak.

  ‘Can’t help you, mate. I wouldn’t have a flaming clue.’

  ‘Do you know where she went?’

  ‘Haven’t the foggiest idea. She didn’t leave a forwarding address. You can’t trust staff to hang around these days! No sense of loyalty.’

  After hanging up, Sam snatched up the packaging and checked the postmark. It had been posted from the island just over a week ago. He scoured everything she’d sent, looking for a return address, but there was none.

  Surely Meg hadn’t taken off without telling him? She couldn’t be hiding from him? He was shocked by the sudden slam of panic that clutched at his chest and stomach. Her terse note had piqued his ego, but now he was worried. Really worried.

  He dialled Dolly Kirby’s number. As soon as the opening pleasantries were over, he demanded, ‘What’s happened to Meg?’

  ‘Oh, Sam.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Meg’s all right.’ But Dolly’s voice was decidedly cautious.

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Quite certain, Dolly?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied with an impatient huff. ‘She telephoned me only yesterday.’

  He let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d been so worried that something had happened to her. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’

  Something like a strangled gasp emerged from Sam’s throat. ‘You mean she asked you not to tell me?’

  ‘For the time being.’ Dolly’s voice held none of its usual warmth and Sam’s chest tightened painfully. What in the blazes was going on?

  Meg couldn’t do this.

  ‘Do you know why she’s—avoiding me?’

  ‘I just know she doesn’t want you in her life.’

  ‘Dolly!’ Sam was embarrassed by the angry hurt that sounded so clearly in his voice, but he couldn’t help shouting, ‘This is ridiculous!’

  ‘Sam, from what I hear you have plenty of girlfriends. Give Meg a break.’

  ‘Girlfriends? I—I—That’s in the past, Dolly.’

  This comment was met by a threatening silence.

  ‘Dolly? Don’t you believe me?’

  ‘I suspect there’s more chance pigs will start flying,’ Dolly responded dryly. ‘Look, I’m sure Meg will contact you in her own good time.’

  Knowing that was all he would get out of Dolly, Sam ended the conversation.

  Dropping the receiver, he crossed his office floor and leaned his heated forehead against the cool plate-glass window. He stared at the tiny figures on the street below as they scurried about their business. What a mess!

  He should never have left Australia without resolving the tensions between himself and Meg. It was obvious they’d got their wires crossed, but if he’d stayed another few days, he might have cleared the air.

  It hit him like the proverbial brick, that he’d never met a woman like Meg. It wasn’t just her loveliness, it was everything about her. The sound of her laughter. Her love for the sea and its creatures. He’d never known another woman whose interests so aligned with his—or what his would be if he were free to explore them.

  Then there was that very special light in her eyes…her natural elegance, the way she moved like a dancer…and her way of listening to him…and the way she made love…with such tenderness and passion…unrestrained sweetness and fire.

  He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from her, but he was damned sure it was a hell of a lot more than a polite little rejection note. He’d give her a little while to calm down and then he’d try again. And as soon as he could settle his business matters, he would be searching for her. He wouldn’t stop until he found her.

  When Meg rang Dolly towards the middle of September, she was surprised to hear that Sam had tried several times to trace her.

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I—I tried to convince him that I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘Did he believe you?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I didn’t give anything away. I just told him you were heading south.’

  ‘I bet that didn’t satisfy him.’

  Dolly laughed. ‘It did not.’ She mimicked Sam’s angry response. ’South? How far south? There’s an awful lot of Australia south of Townsville.’

  Meg clutched the phone to her chest. Talking about Sam always made her edgy. ‘Do you think he’s going to come looking for me?’

  ‘I’m sure he will eventually, but at the moment he seems to be very caught up with his business.’

  Meg bit back a retort. Of course he would be. Business and money. They were always number one with Sam.

  Dolly’s voice brightened. ‘I told him you’re keeping very well.’

  ‘Dolly!’ Meg cried. ‘Why on earth did you say that? You’ll make him suspect something.’

  ‘No, dear. Men are thick about things like that. He just scoffed, “Of course she’s well. Meg’s a healthy young woman. Why shouldn’t she be well?” And then I had to mumble something about flu.’

  ‘I’m fighting fit,’ Meg agreed. ‘Just about over the early-morning blues.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, dear. Did you know Sam arranged for a team of nice men to paint my house for me? It looks beautiful now.’

  ‘It’s the least he could do, Dolly.’

  ‘And the man he hired to do my garden every week is wonderful. As for that beautiful pearl brooch on my birthday… Meg, Sam’s a wonderful young man.’

  ‘I’m sure half the women in Seattle would agree with you, but he can stay wonderful on the other side of the Pacific.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, dear.’

  Meg didn’t want to end up in another argument with Dolly about the wisdom of her actions. Dolly’s reasoning was based on the assumption that Sam was as in love and as committed as her Tom had been and Meg didn’t have the heart to set her straight.

  ‘I’ll warn you now that I’m sure he will come looking for you just as soon as he’s se
ttled his business matters,’ Dolly assured Meg.

  Just how much time it would take to settle business matters surprised even Sam. It wasn’t just a case of organising a satisfactory settlement with Dolly. Sam had other plans for the company. He wanted to sell it.

  Getting his father’s support had been the surprisingly easy part.

  ‘Look what Kirby & Son has done to me,’ the older man had sighed. ‘Years and years of hard work and stress. My heart’s so clapped out, I have to sit around like an invalid…taking things quietly…’

  What took an infuriatingly long time was working his way through the minefield of negotiations involved in finding the right buyer. But the waiting and the patience were worth it. By Christmas, the last negotiations had taken place and by New Year a deal was finalised. The new owners were ecstatic and Sam’s parents were happy.

  And he felt like a man who’d been let out of jail.

  Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought of Meg.

  The day after the sale had gone through, he rang Dolly again.

  There was a longish pause. ‘I can’t, Sam. I can’t tell you where she is. I promised.’

  ‘Not even a hint?’

  ‘Why do you want to find her so badly?’

  ‘You know why, Dolly. It’s nearly eight months since I’ve seen her. And—damn it—I think I might be—in love with her.’

  ‘You want to marry her?’

  Sam gulped. ‘I don’t know—’ He gulped again. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ the old lady whispered.

  ‘Dolly.’ Sam persisted. ‘Think of Tom. I’m in the same situation Tom was. I travelled over to Australia and found this wonderful woman…’

  ‘Yes. I know, dear.’

  ‘So you’re going to at least tell me which state she’s in, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dolly repeated more definitely. ‘I think I shall.’ She paused again while Sam’s heart pounded. ‘She’s somewhere on the Sunshine Coast. In the beach house her father left her. But that’s all I’m going to tell you. That’s all I can say.’

  ‘Dolly, you’re an angel.’

  But finding Meg was not going to be easy. The Sunshine Coast, Sam discovered when he arrived two days later, was a beautiful but heavily populated string of beaches north of Brisbane. There was Sunshine Beach, Coloundra, Noosa, Mooloolaba, Alexandra Headlands…an endless list.

  He began his search in the telephone directory, working his way wearily through the Bennets. He hadn’t realised it was such a common name. Finally, he decided that Meg must have an unlisted number.

  Over the next few days, he walked the esplanades of a dozen beaches, scanning the crowds. And at least a dozen times he thought he saw her. Once in a car when he was crossing the road; he was almost run over when he stopped to stare at a woman with Meg’s colouring. Another time he actually went up to a blonde woman in a coffee shop and tapped her on the shoulder but, when she turned around, she wasn’t Meg.

  He caught a glimpse of a woman at the far end of a shopping mall and was convinced she was Meg. But she was too far away and kept walking quickly with her back to him. With so many busy shoppers getting in his way, he continually bumped into people and kept having to stop to apologise. He couldn’t catch a proper look at her.

  And then, finally, she turned slightly and, silhouetted at the mall exit, he caught sight of a heavily pregnant stomach.

  Another mistake. He knew then that it couldn’t be Meg and he gave up the chase.

  He tried ringing a few of the resorts in the area to see if they employed a Meg Bennet but, as he expected, they didn’t give out that kind of information.

  Now, as he stopped for a snack at an outdoor cafe, he had to admit that his options were dwindling to nil. Defeat stared him in the face. He could consider a private detective. But if Meg didn’t want to be found, what the hell was he doing searching for her? Maybe he should just give up. Get on with his life.

  Most men in their early thirties would give an arm and a leg to be in his shoes—masses of money in the bank and no responsibilities. There was a whole world out there, and it was filled to overflowing with pretty women.

  Why had he become fixated with just one?

  One stubborn, mule-headed, obstinate woman, who didn’t want him.

  One beautiful, loving, passionate woman who, once upon a time, had wanted him with burning, breathless abandon.

  He reached for his mobile phone. ‘This is not a good afternoon, Dolly.’

  ‘Sam, is that you? Have you found her?’

  He released a rueful chuckle. ‘You know you sent me on a wild-goose chase.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve had no luck?’

  ‘Dolly, you’ve heard the cliché about needles and haystacks?’

  ‘It’s that bad?’

  ‘Worse.’ Sam rested an elbow on the table and propped his forehead with a clenched fist. He spoke slowly and firmly into the phone. ‘I need her address. I’m worried about her. I have to find her.’

  ‘Oh, Sam.’ Dolly sighed. ‘I think maybe you do. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Do you have a pen handy?’

  She gave him an address.

  And half an hour later he found Meg’s house.

  She wasn’t home when he arrived, but he snooped in her letterbox and found mail addressed to her, so he knew at last he’d found her.

  Hungry for details, Sam wandered around the yard of the small, rather shabby, beach cottage. Despite its lack of paint and the fact that the garden was no more than a stretch of grass and a few shady trees, it had a dilapidated charm.

  At the back, a low porch looked out across the Maroochy River. Sam stepped onto it and a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. There were a couple of old cane chairs lined with faded patchwork cushions. A collection of potted herbs caught the afternoon sun in one corner, and from the edge of the roof dangled a mobile made from pieces of beach debris—driftwood, shells, fishing line and pieces of coral. It danced in the breeze and the shells tinkled softly.

  An empty glass and a women’s magazine had been left on the floor beside one of the chairs. There was a fishing rod propped in one corner. A faint aroma of bait clung to it. Beyond the porch, the wide river looked slow, like an old man enjoying the sun.

  Sam lowered himself into one of the chairs and settled to wait, suddenly nervous. He was more than nervous, he was terrified. He’d been so focused on finding Meg that he hadn’t planned the next step. And he needed to plan. He needed to get this absolutely right. So much was at stake.

  One thing he knew. She wouldn’t be welcoming him with wide open arms. A woman didn’t go into hiding just for the sake of it. He hadn’t a clue what her problem was. No one would give him answers.

  He stared at the sleepy river and tried to think straight. Negotiating a complicated business deal was child’s play compared with handling Meg Bennet. Meg, with eyes that changed from grey to blue, or green, just as the sea did. Meg, with as many moods as the sea.

  He stretched out his long legs and tried to relax. Surely it was just a simple misunderstanding. Once he saw her again, he would find a way to sort out their problem.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MEG was smiling as she left the hospital. The midwife had told her that her baby was growing really well—exactly the right size for her dates. The heartbeat was strong and Meg was fit as a fiddle. Everything was as it should be. She was on top of the world.

  She’d been astounded at the way her thinking had changed in the past months. Pregnancy involved so much more than a drastic expansion of her waistline. Her baby had become the centre of her world. While people all around her carried on as usual, discussing politics, the nation’s economy or global warming, Meg found her vision growing more and more inward.

  For her, the only significant event of the year was the birth of her child.

  As the baby grew, she loved it more fiercely every day. Once in a while she got depressed when she thought about the responsibilities that faced her alone in the f
uture.

  But at least she was over Sam.

  Moving away from the island had been the best thing she’d ever done. She’d been able to start afresh on her own. Her baby was the love of her life these days and, after the midwife’s glowing report today, she knew she had absolutely nothing to worry about.

  When she turned into her street and saw a sleek blue sports car parked outside her house, she felt a stab of dismay. She had no idea who it could be, so when she turned onto the dirt car track at the side of the house, she edged her car forward very cautiously.

  There was a figure, waiting on the back porch.

  Her heart began to thump so loudly she feared for her health.

  It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be…

  Sam!

  White-knuckled, her hands gripped the steering wheel. She stared back at him through the rear window and her heart drummed a desperate tattoo. Sam was lounging against the timber railing. Dressed in faded jeans and an even more faded black T-shirt, he looked completely at home. And as sexy as ever. Oh, sweet heaven, what was she going to do?

  He couldn’t come back into her life now.

  Not now.

  Breathless and panicky, she tried to think straight. How on earth had he found her? Thoughts of backing down the drive and taking off flashed through her mind.

  But he was already coming down the steps.

  Her shaking fingers fumbled with the ignition key.

  He crossed the grass towards her and stopped a few feet from the car. She could see his smile through the passenger window.

  ‘Hi there.’

  How could she stay? She didn’t have the courage to face him when he discovered about the baby. In sheer panic, Meg wrenched the key forward and the engine flared to life. Stepping on the accelerator, she began to back down the drive.

  She heard Sam’s shout and the car stalled.

  She knew she was being irrational. Struggling to think calmly, she told herself that trying to run was ridiculous. Anyway, there was no place she could go. He would follow her, or he would wait until she came back. She couldn’t stay away forever.