He stood with his back to her, legs spread wide, his white-knuckled hands gripping the kitchen bench like he stood in quicksand and it stopped him sinking. ‘Because I’m not too afraid to ask you now.’
‘Because you’re back on home territory, and in control?’ she half mocked, the months of repressed fury and betrayal bubbling up in unexpected flashpoint.
As if he’d expected the words, he shrugged and said simply, ‘Because I’ve already lost you, lost Adam. So say it, Anna; get it all out. There can’t be worse.’
On legs surprisingly steady—maybe part of her had always known he’d ask eventually; he’d been waiting for this time, when he was back safe on his turf—she found a chair and sat down, half-facing Melanie, replacing the flooring corner which she was pulling at again with a plastic bottle. The baby began banging it on the floor, squealing in delight at the juddering noise.
And, watching the baby, she felt the fury draining away, just when she wanted to hold hard to it. With a little sigh, she let her heart speak for her. ‘Why did you never even hesitate about choosing to implant Adam when the doctor said it was dangerous to try again? Why, Jared? He’d told us fairly bluntly that the baby and I could both die, but you kept pushing. Was a son worth more to you than my life?’
After a long silence, broken only by Melanie’s play, he asked, ‘Are you hungry? Lunch will get cold soon.’
There it was, his withdrawal, right on cue. Don’t poke and prod me like a cow, don’t push me or I’ll retreat. It was her turn now to make it easy, to say yes and eat, and after the baby was asleep he’d reward her in the way that had once made her happy, had once been enough.
It had never been enough.
She lifted her chin, and spoke from a place of control, because she no longer cared if he retreated or withheld affection from her. ‘No, I’m not hungry. I asked you a question, and I’d like you to answer it.’
He stopped in mid-stride, turning to stare at her from over his shoulder. ‘Have you believed that all this time?’ His face was unreadable, but his voice held some deeper-hidden emotion.
‘Stop it,’ she said, soft, holding in the anger lest they upset the baby. ‘Stop turning the questions onto me. You always do that instead of answering, to make me talk. It’s your way of finding out my issue so you can find the solution to the problem.’
He wheeled right around to face her then, frowning. ‘You don’t want a solution?’
The question was so typically Jared, she laughed before turning his words of the day before onto him. ‘I want you to talk.’ Then, in deliberate provocation, she added, ‘I want you to have the courage to answer my question.’
His clenched fist thudded on the sink. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.’
The confusion, the frustration rang so clear she heard it like a bell tolling. He didn’t understand, didn’t know what to do if he couldn’t do, couldn’t act, couldn’t fix. He was waiting for his cue to charge into the fray like Lancelot, finding a way to make things better.
‘I asked you a question. Was having the required son and heir worth more to you than my life?’ she asked again. Pushing with a rapier covered in silk.
‘Dear God, how can you even ask?’ he rasped.
‘I need to know. I need to hear it. I’ve wondered—doubted—for a long time.’
He shook his head, with a slow wonder. ‘I did everything for you, for us.’ Anger vibrated through every word, denial of what she’d asked.
‘You talked me into trying once more, with the last embryo—with Adam—when they’d told us both the risks. I was terrified, but you never faltered. You had to have your son, the Curran heir. That’s how it felt to me, Jared.’ She kept her voice gentle but she was pitiless. She had to know. When he didn’t answer, she went on, ‘I’d given you one of two things you’d planned for the life you wanted—Jarndirri—and you had to have the other, your son and heir from a Curran woman’s body. If the cost was my life, it didn’t seem to matter.’
In the silence, she saw a sheet of white-hot lightning rip across the sky outside the window. She lifted Melanie into her arms before the boom followed and frightened her. When the sound passed she put the baby down again and turned to look at him, saw his fingers clenching that old, worn bench so tightly, his fingers looked ready to snap.
Or maybe it was Jared that was about to snap.
She forced herself to not move to him, to not comfort him with touch, and do the talking for him. She’d waited too long to know.
‘It mattered.’ He was taut, holding onto control by a tiny thread. The struggle was so clear inside him she could almost see the straining, emotions against his will, a tug of war she’d never known existed until now, when the rope was stretched to breaking.
‘But not as much as having a son—Bryce Curran’s grandson, to legitimise your claim on Jarndirri,’ she said softly. Snip.
His shoulders pulled at the shirt as the muscles moved beneath, clenching his fists over and over, thudding the bench. ‘You never told me how scared you were. I thought you wanted a baby more than anything. I thought it would make you happy. You were so lost after the last time.’
Understanding flashed through her at the muttered words; they made sense. Yes, he’d wanted a son, but he’d thought it was what she wanted, and she hadn’t told him.
It was only now she wondered: had she begun to withdraw from Jared emotionally even before Adam’s death? Had she expected him to know how she felt without telling him, and then blamed him for not seeing her terror?
Tentative, unsure, she said softly, ‘But when the doctor said it was dangerous, you didn’t hesitate for a moment.’
He shrugged, shook his head. ‘It made no sense to me. I didn’t realise I’d…’
‘You never knew you’d have to sacrifice anything for my sake? Is that what you thought?’
Snap. As if she’d seen that thread break, he whirled round on her at last, his eyes burning bright and dark. ‘I thought they were wrong. How could we have everything else, but be unable to have one single child? How could a woman as strong as you, as perfect as you, almost die doing what millions of women do every day?’
She frowned at the intensity with which he spoke—as if her flaw insulted him. ‘Millions of women still die every year in childbirth.’
He shuddered. ‘Not you, not you,’ he muttered beneath his breath.
‘It’s a danger to all women,’ she said quietly, wondering why her imperfection was such an impossibility to him. ‘I got an infection when I was twelve, Jared. It happens. It could have affected my brain or heart. I could have died then. I have to live with what it did do to me.’
‘Don’t say it,’ he snarled. ‘Don’t talk about it!’
‘I have to. This is my reality now. I can’t have children.’
He strode to her, grabbing her by her shoulders, eyes blazing with light. ‘There’s a way, Anna. It’s not impossible. We can—’
Unable to bear hearing what she knew he had planned, she had to deflect him. ‘There is no “we”.’ She shook him off, gently but with finality. ‘You can’t keep living the dream for us both, Jared. I don’t want to live it any more.’
‘You gave me your word—whatever I want,’ he growled, low and intense.
She forced a shrug. ‘If I have Melanie, if Rosie wants us to adopt her, I’ll stay—but I won’t want to be here. I won’t want to be your wife, and I don’t want to live here any more.’
‘I refuse to believe it,’ he grated out. ‘It’s always been us, Anna. It’ll always be you and me, here at Jarndirri.’
‘No.’ Aching, she stepped back. ‘There’s no “us” now—and there never will be while your heart and soul is on Jarndirri.’
Now he frowned. ‘Why not?’
She tried to think of something to say to convince him—he wouldn’t listen to the truth—but eventually she shrugged and said, ‘I lost my mother here, when I was only four. My grandpa Curran died here a year later, and my dad when
I was twenty-three. I lost five babies here. Adam’s body is here.’ She bit her lip. ‘Don’t you get it, Jared? This place is my pain, my past. I need to find a future away from here. I need to find a way to be happy, and it isn’t here.’
‘But you know I can’t just up and leave…’ He closed his eyes. ‘You don’t just mean Jarndirri, do you? I’m also your pain, your past. I remind you of all you lost.’
‘Yes,’ she said, softly, sadly.
‘And you’re not willing to fight for us, to make things better, to be happy here with me.’
Oh, why did he have to make this so hard? Her eyes stung and burned. ‘What is there to fight for? You’ve been fighting for a dream that never had substance…at least, not with me.’ He wavered in her vision as tears rose unbidden. ‘Let me go, Jared. Let me find the life and person I want to be. Take Jarndirri. I don’t want any part of it.’
‘No.’ Without warning he turned on her, sneering lips, dead-white face. ‘Keep your blood money. I won’t assuage your guilt. This place can fall to ruin before I’ll take a bloody cent from you, or a single acre of this place.’
The ball had been hit right out of the park; the arrow had hit the bull’s-eye. She’d wanted him to take the place and continue her father’s dreams, so she could leave without regret.
Without guilt.
She flushed and wheeled away. ‘Then we’ll sell it in the divorce proceedings, and take half each. It was left to us both. It should be enough for you to buy a smaller place, or bring Mundabah Flats to its former glory.’
‘I’ll never go back there.’
There it was again, that deep-waters-covering-murky-depths tone she’d heard so often, but she’d never connected it to any one thing before. But this was the second time he’d spoken that way about Mundabah. ‘Why not?’ she asked slowly, digging in what she was certain was the right hole at last.
He waved a hand in frozen dismissal. ‘I’d rather work as a jackaroo on the worst drought-ridden property in the state than go back. My mother and her failure of a husband are welcome to it.’
‘Why?’ she pressed.
His eyes flashed. ‘Don’t go there, Anna.’
She laughed, half incredulous, half pitying. ‘Why, what will you do to me, freeze me out again? Refuse to kiss me? I meant what I said just now. I’m going to divorce you, Jared.’
His face had stilled, like a marble carving, beautiful and cold. ‘You always were a pitiful poker player, showing your hand too early. If nothing I can do will change your mind, if I’m losing the life I want, I have no incentive at all to tell those little white lies to the adoption authorities, do I?’
Anna felt all the blood drain from her face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JARED watched Anna sway in her seat, her eyes blank out with devastation, and he hated himself for the lie he’d told. But if she knew he’d go through with the adoption, she’d divorce him after she had what she wanted, and leave without a backward glance.
He slammed the emotional lid down on his conscience. This was the fight of his life. He had to be heartless, not rush to be her hero for once, or he’d lose her.
Not an option.
‘Well?’ He kept his tone cold, without mercy.
She didn’t move for a long time. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest told him she was breathing at all. Her fingers twitched, like they always did when she was stressed.
After a long time, she nodded. ‘You win…again,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll stay.’
Tears ran down her cheeks. Her soft golden-brown skin had drained of all colour until it looked like alabaster. As her head drooped, her hair slowly fell over her face, a toffee-coloured curtain hiding her emotions from him.
Withdrawing into the world she’d wandered the past year, lonely and grieving and lost. She looked exactly as she had the day Adam had died, and he’d sent her back there so he could win, so he could have what he wanted. At Anna’s expense…
‘God help me, what have I done?’ he muttered beneath his breath.
Every part of him ached to take her in his arms, say he didn’t mean it, that she could have the blasted baby or anything else she wanted—but when he took a step, she rose to her feet. Head still lowered, she lifted a hand. ‘You can force me to stay with you, but you can’t make me want to be here. You can force me to be your wife, but you can’t make me love you.’
The half-whispered words froze him where he stood. The one thing he’d gambled on this whole time was that she loved him still, that all these months of denial was grief talking…but somehow, now, he felt it.
It was over. She didn’t love him. She didn’t want to stay.
Stooping down to gather Melanie into her arms, she walked out of the room with an unsteady step—but at the door, she paused.
‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered through a throat so thick he barely heard her. ‘Everything I ever did was for you, in an effort to make you happy. I even left so you could have Jarndirri, and find a real woman, someone to have sons with. I gave you your dream and freedom. Why can’t you let me go, Jared? Why can’t you let me be happy without you?’
Until now he’d never have believed there was worse suffering than losing his son, but she’d just taken his heart from his chest while it was still beating, and walked right over it. After what seemed like hours, she still stood there, demanding answers in her silence, and he finally answered. ‘It’s always been you and me at Jarndirri. We belong here, together, for life. You’re my wife.’
She looked up then—but her beautiful dove’s eyes burned with fury and betrayal. ‘The one thing I’d held to all these years was that you never meant to hurt me. You have no idea what you just said, do you?’ She laughed, but it was an ugly sound, sad and bitter.
Moments later he heard the key turn in the lock of the room she shared with the baby.
Jared stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. After all the hard work he’d done to bring her closer, he’d just pushed her away and he didn’t even know why. She was in his life, but it was the last place she wanted to be.
Why? If only he could understand what he’d said or done! He loved Jarndirri with a dreamer’s passion, sure, but everything he’d done had been for them, for the family they could still have, if only she’d listen…
You can’t make me love you.
At least he hadn’t said the three fatal words. How many times had he heard his father say them to make his mother stay in an unendurable situation, or to ask her to fix what he’d broken? I love you, Pauline, please make this right, make us all happy again.
He thanked heaven he hadn’t repeated history, trying to fix the unfixable with three words. If he had, Anna would only despise him for it, and rightly so.
With all his being he burned to go to her now. With a word he could make her open the door, come back to eat the forgotten lunch, or touch him—he had the power over her, until Melanie was adopted at least—but she was right. He couldn’t make her want to be here.
He couldn’t force her to love him. What was her staying worth without that?
The phone began ringing at that moment, and he knew it was Lea; it was only a matter of time before Lea called looking for Anna, especially as Anna’s cellphone was switched off. ‘Perfect timing,’ he muttered wryly. On feet as uneven as hers had been, he crossed the room to face the tiger.
In the Wet, there were no pretty blue and violet twilights, only damp, dark shadows creeping around the clouds growing deeper by the moment. Night didn’t fall, it just happened. Anna waited that long to leave her room, though she was amazed Jared hadn’t forced her out long before now. He’d proven his ownership, his power over her. Was he waiting to starve her out, so she’d have to come to him like a supplicant? She was blowed if she’d go begging…
But when Melanie was no longer satisfied with the bottle of water, and began whimpering for her dinner, Anna knew she had to face him. She changed the baby again, and left the roo
m with her head high. He might have what he wanted, but he’d never own her again.
She smelled the rich roasting cheesy smell, the garlic in the bread baking, and her stomach howled. Entering the kitchen, she saw it was empty—but there was a bowl of cereal for Melanie covered with plastic wrap, and a bottle of her favourite red wine from the Barossa Valley open and breathing.
He’d bought the wine she’d always loved?
Sounds of scraping on the front verandah led her that way. Picking up Melanie’s bowl first—it even had a little spoon in it—she walked through the screen door.
Soaking wet, Jared was scrubbing the rust off the legs of the travel cot; the inside was already clean, the thin pillows sewn together to make a mattress, a sheet over it. He looked up with a grin when she came out. ‘Hey. Have a good rest?’
Anna blinked. What was he doing, acting as if nothing had happened? Opening her mouth to say no, she heard an uncertain ‘Yes, thank you,’ escape her lips.
Maybe her heart was wiser than her mind. She was tired of the arguments, of the constant struggle to win when she only ended up losing.
‘That looks better,’ she remarked, noting he’d done the work on the side of the house where the Buttons wouldn’t see or hear him.
‘I couldn’t put Melanie in something that dirty, she could get sick.’
It was the first time he’d used Melanie’s name without hesitation…and he was showing concern for the baby’s welfare. Touched despite the lingering anger and humiliation roiling through her, she smiled.
Then the baby howled, and Anna sat down quickly, Melanie on her lap, and took the plastic cover from the bowl. ‘Thanks for having it ready.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
She had to keep her eyes on Melanie as she fed her, but the note in his voice, curiously humble, distracted her. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I don’t like being blackmailed.’
‘I didn’t know any other way to keep you with me.’
In all the years she’d known him, she’d never heard such an open admission from the great Jared West; he’d always been so sure of himself, so strong. ‘It won’t work,’ she said quietly, soothingly for Melanie’s sake. ‘It won’t make you happy, Jared, if I don’t want to be here.’
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