by Fiona Lowe
Her mother sat by the window, dressed in a tracksuit and cross-stitching a sampler. The sunshine highlighted the black rings under her eyes.
With a jolt, Meg realised her mother was getting old. ‘Hi, Mum.’ Meg walked over and kissed Eleanor’s cheek. ‘Have they been working you hard?’
Eleanor smiled, looking very tired. ‘Those physios make drill sergeants look like softies.’
Meg laughed and turned toward the sink, her back to her mother. She filled the vase with water. ‘The sooner you get full range of movement, the sooner you’ll be home.’
Her mother didn’t respond.
Meg swivelled around to find Eleanor had dropped her cross stitch onto her lap and was staring out the window. ‘Penny for them?’
A sigh shuddered through Eleanor’s body. ‘I don’t know if the farm is home anymore, Meg.’
A cold sensation ran through her as she put the vase on the table. ‘Of course it’s home. You and Dad raised a family there, loved each other, it’s part of you both.’ It’s part of me.
Her mother met her gaze, worry and exhaustion lines evident on her face. ‘Since your dad died my life’s been a series of battles. I’ve battled grief and I’m battling MS, as well as the bank. And as much as I love you dearly, and I know you love the farm, I just can’t do it anymore.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to sell the farm.’
No! Meg squatted by her mother’s side, trying to ignore the dizziness that whizzed in her head. ‘I can help more. I can look at renegotiating the loan, and I can—’
Her mother placed her hand on Meg’s hair. ‘It isn’t just the struggle to meet the mortgage. I’m tired, Meg. I’ve worked hard all my life and now I want to be in town, close to my friends, and enjoy what useful time I have left.’
How could she argue with that? Her mother had a right to live her life her way. But she couldn’t let the farm be sold. ‘I’ve got a good job. I’ll buy it from you.’
Pity crossed her mother’s face. ‘Meg, sometimes we have to let go.’
Meg’s voice rose hysterically. ‘I don’t want to let go. It’s all I’ve got.’ Dread surfed through her, mixing with the nausea. Her head pounded, and her mother’s face started to blur. Then blackness rolled in.
Meg squinted against a bright light above her.
A brisk voice spoke. ‘Good. You’re awake. You’re in Winston Accident and Emergency because you fainted, bumped your head and had a short LOC.’
LOC? Loss of consciousness. She could remember talking to her mother about the farm but not much else.
‘I’m Jenna, by the way.’ The nurse gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I think we’ve met before, at a meeting?’
‘Meg Watson. Community Health Nurse at Laurelton.’ She tried to move, her hands finding the cot sides on the edge of the narrow trolley.
‘Just a mo, we’ll sit you up.’ The nurse fiddled behind her and with a clunk of metal on metal the top part of the trolley rose. ‘Better?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ Confusion made Meg’s brain foggy. ‘Why did I faint?’
‘That’s what we’re going to find out. You don’t have a fever but your blood pressure’s a bit low. We’ll take some blood but a urine sample would be good. Do you think you can oblige?’ The nurse produced a bedpan.
‘Surely I can walk to the bathroom?’ She didn’t fancy balancing precariously on the green plastic.
Jenna laughed. ‘Nurses and doctors make the worst patients. Sorry, but you’re not walking anywhere for another hour.’ She handed Meg the buzzer then tugged the curtains of the cubicle closed.
Meg thought of the Laurelton River racing across its smooth bed of stones and managed to comply with the request.
Jenna arrived almost immediately after the buzzer sounded. ‘I’ll test it for protein, glucose, ketones, all the usual stuff. Back in a jiff.’
Meg sat up even further, testing her head. The spinning sensation thankfully didn’t return. Exhaustion was probably the culprit. Hopefully she’d be out of here quickly because she had to get to the head office of the bank in Melbourne and discuss ways to finance her purchase of the farm.
She wished she had a pad and pencil to write down everything she needed to do. Was her business suit dry-cleaned and ready for an outing? If she was going to be taken seriously by the bank, she had to have serious clothes.
Jenna returned, holding Meg’s history, and closed the curtains behind her. ‘I’ve got good news.’
Meg relaxed. ‘Great. I doubted I had diabetes as there’s no family history and I hadn’t been excessively thirsty. I’m sure I’m just overtired.’
Jenna smiled. ‘Actually, you’re pregnant. Congratulations!’
Meg heard the words but couldn’t comprehend them. ‘Sorry?’
‘You’re pregnant.’ Jenna showed her the pregnancy test.
Meg’s eyes struggled to focus on the plus sign in the middle of the test kit. ‘But I can’t be pregnant. We used condoms.’
‘Condoms are ninety-five per cent effective, your baby is the five per cent failure rate.’ Jenna looked serious for a moment. ‘Are you OK?’
Meg nodded, ‘I’m OK, just a bit shocked, but good shocked if you know what I mean.’ Confusion swirled inside her. ‘The thing is, I’ve got badly scarred tubes and my gynaecologist told me pregnancy was impossible.’
Jenna giggled. ‘Don’t you love proving those doctors wrong? Talking about doctors, you’ll have to see Dr Sharman before you can be discharged, but I’d say you fainted because of low blood pressure caused by the pregnancy.’ She jotted something down on the clipboard in her hand. ‘Oh, and you should see your gynaecologist or, should I say, obstetrician.’ She sighed. ‘I just love pregnancies.’ Placing her hand on Meg’s arm, she gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Take it easy and get some rest.’
Meg watched Jenna leave in a haze of disbelief. Her mind raced, unable to fix on any one thought. Pregnant. Her heart sang at the longed-for dream that had suddenly become a reality.
She was going to be a mother.
Will would be a father. A wonderful father.
Will.
She had to tell him. He’d be shocked, like her, but surely this was a good shock. Would he be as thrilled as she was? Did he want to be a father?
A kernel of fear twisted inside her. He might not want this. But, no matter what, he had to know.
This sort of news wasn’t something she could do over the phone—it needed to be done in person.
Her planned day in Melbourne suddenly looked full—a visit to the gynaecologist, followed by an appointment at the bank. She’d save the best visit for last. Will.
Will’s attention wandered from the column of figures in front of him and he gazed out at the tall black skyscraper that dominated the outlook from his building. He’d only just got back to the office, having been out all morning at the Royal Children’s Hospital.
After his meeting he’d dropped in on Josh. He’d needed a ‘patient fix’ after missing the one-on-one contact he’d had in Laurelton. It had been great to spend time with the courageous little boy.
But during the visit he’d had half an ear listening for Meg. Hoping she would walk in, put her hands on his shoulders and lean in close, her laughing voice whispering in his ear, announcing her arrival.
But that was wishful thinking. Meg was in Laurelton.
And he’d been back in Melbourne a couple of weeks. Well, his body was back in Melbourne but his head was firmly in the country with Meg. She filled his thoughts, filled his dreams and when faced with a tricky issue he found himself wondering what her opinion would be.
In the past he’d never had any problem walking away from a woman. This time it was proving impossible.
He’d lost count of the number of occasions he’d picked up the phone to ring her, only to put it down again. What was he going to say? ‘How’s the weather? Are the alpine spring flowers out yet? Do you miss me as much as I miss you, so much that it hurts?’
No, it would be b
etter to go and visit her.
He flicked his diary open, looking for a free weekend when he could get down to see her.
His intercom buzzed and his secretary’s voice sounded down the line. ‘Will, are you free to see a Ms Watson? She doesn’t have an appointment.’
Meg. He jumped to his feet and hauled open the office door, his heart beating fast, his arms aching to hold her.
‘Meg.’
She swivelled around on a pair of fine stiletto heels looking—looking like a city version of his country girl. She’d swept back her hair into a knot at the base of her neck, straightening out every curl, although he noticed one had thankfully escaped, softening the prim look.
From the fine wool skirt to the fitted jacket and the gold chain around her neck, she looked every inch like the women he’d always avoided. Designer-clad, corporate sharks, determined to land their fish. For the first time he saw a flash of Taylor.
He shook his head. Meg was nothing like Taylor.
But right now she didn’t look anything like his Meg either.
He found his voice, which had stalled at the sight of her. ‘Come in. It’s lovely to see you.’
She smiled a nervous smile and walked ahead of him into the office.
He closed the door and reached for her.
She came into his arms, her scent of wild flowers tantalising him. He immediately released the clasp on her hair, pulling it free, letting her hair cascade down her back, the curls exploding from their straitjacket.
He plunged his face into her hair and breathed deep. ‘That’s better.’
She gave a tight smile. ‘Didn’t you like my city hair?’
‘You don’t need city hair, you’re a country girl.’ He kissed her, revelling in her taste of sweet sunshine and freshly mown hay.
He brought his head up and gazed into her blue eyes. ‘It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.’
She caressed his cheek with her fingers. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’
‘I was just planning a visit to you.’ He wrapped a curl around his finger, feeling like a kid who had just discovered a stash of hidden sweets.
She leaned in close and put her hands on his shoulders. Rising up on her toes, she spoke close to his ear, her voice low. ‘I beat you to it.’
Desire thudded through him, driving every rational thought from his head. God, he wanted her. Wanted to bury himself inside her and forget everything that wasn’t working in his life.
She stepped back out of his arms, her initial nervousness returning. ‘Can I have a drink of water, please?’
He started. ‘Of course.’ He poured a glass of iced water from a jug and handed it to her, noticing shadows around her eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her.
She downed the water in two gulps.
‘How’s Eleanor?’ He refilled the glass.
‘She’s in Rehab.’
An unfamiliar air of anxiety hovered about her and he wanted to banish it. He sat down in an easy chair and pulled her down onto his lap, her legs across his body. ‘Sit down. I can’t imagine those heels are very comfortable. Why are you dressed like this?’
Wariness washed over her face. ‘I had two important meetings today—well, three really.’
He pulled off her shoes and ran his hand along the top of her foot and up her stockinged leg, ‘Hopefully one was with the Health Department. I suggested to the Minister that Laurelton needed a service review.’
‘Uh, no, it wasn’t with the department.’ Her voice sounded disconcerted. She put her hand over his, stalling it at mid-thigh. ‘Um, there’s no easy way to say this. I saw my gynaecologist today.’
A thread of unease stirred inside him. ‘Why?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
His breath stalled in his chest as her words boomed in his head. Disbelief roared in his ears and he struggled to think. Condoms, they’d used condoms.
They don’t always work. The voices of his family planning lecturers played across his mind. Pregnant. A child.
His child.
His and Meg’s child.
A seed of happiness and pure joy expanded inside him. He tried to form the words to respond, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. This baby was a miracle for both of them. He wanted to hug her, sing, but he could only stare at her in glorious amazement.
Her eyes, bright blue with the wonder of the baby, stared at him as his silence extended. ‘I…I know it’s a shock.’
He managed to croak out the words, ‘It’s a wonderful shock, the best kind.’
She hugged him hard. ‘I’ve had a week of shocks. Straight after the appointment with my doctor I had a meeting at the bank’s head office.’ She bit her lip. After all of Mum’s and my hard work, Big Hill Farm has to be sold unless I can find the three hundred and fifty thousand dollars to re-establish the loan.’
Her voice caught and tears filmed her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to lose one hundred and fifty years of my family’s heritage.’
Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He stiffened and dropped his hand from her thigh, almost pushing her off his lap. Money. She needed money. His money. Her words replayed in his head. I think I’d do just about anything to keep the farm.
His chest tightened. She was no different from all the other women he’d ever met. She’d use him to get what she needed. She was the same as Taylor.
Ignoring the stunned look on her face as she stumbled to her feet, he let his anger blast through him in righteous fury. ‘So you need a loan?’
She flinched at his tone. ‘I do, but—’
‘And this baby is the collateral, is it?
‘What?’ Her face paled to white-on-white, confusion skating all over it.
‘You told me it was impossible for you to conceive.’
Disbelief filled her eyes. ‘I didn’t lie to you. I’d been told I had scarring and blocked tubes and was unlikely to conceive.’
‘And yet you’re conveniently pregnant with my child, just as you need a truckload of money to save your precious farm. What a coincidence.’
Her gasp echoed around the room. ‘What are you really saying?’
‘You know what I’m saying. You get pregnant, I marry you and my money saves your farm. All very neat, isn’t it?’
She gripped the back of a chair, her knuckles white as understanding dawned on her face. ‘You think I set you up?’ Incredulity clung to her words. ‘This pregnancy is a million-to-one chance, and you know it.’
His jaw ached from rigid tension. ‘I think you’re using this baby to get what you want.’
‘I don’t think you’re thinking at all.’ She wrung her hands and her body trembled.
He blocked her actions out, his anger not wanting to acknowledge her shock. ‘I’ve had women try to marry me in the past, but none of them have stooped so low as to involve an innocent child.’
Her cheeks blazed pink, as if she’d been slapped. ‘You spent three weeks with me yet you have no idea who I am.’
Her whispered words sliced into him. For a brief moment he hesitated in his conviction about her. But years of conditioning thundered in, flattening the fledgling thought. Women only want you for your money. None of them love you.
He grabbed a cheque-book and with a shaking hand filled in the blanks. ‘I’ll provide for my child and my lawyer will be in touch with you to arrange access and maintenance. This will cover what you need for the pregnancy.’ He ripped the cheque from the stub and held it out toward her, almost waving it under her nose. ‘You came here for money so here it is.’
She stood her ground, tilting her head slightly to prevent the cheque from touching her. She spoke softly yet the words cut with jagged edges. ‘I came here to tell you about the baby because, as the father, you have the right to know that your child will be coming into the world next year. I didn’t come here begging for money.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Yeah, absolutely right.’ She snatched the cheque
and slammed it down onto his desk. ‘I don’t want your money. This child deserves to be free of the Cameron wealth. It sure as hell hasn’t made you happy. For all your talk of not loving money, it’s fast looking like the wheeling and dealing of the business world has you well and truly in its grip.’
The words slapped him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Her eyes blazed at him, the dark blue of a summer storm. ‘I know enough. You just accused me of forcing you into a marriage to get your money. I’m not the one forcing you to do anything. Has it occurred to you that perhaps your family are so thrilled that you’re working in the business that maybe they’re not trying that hard to find a replacement? Or that your dad is not coming back to work as fast as he possibly could because he’s so happy to have you alongside him, doing the job he never thought you would do?’
Unease washed through him, making him defensive. ‘That’s just plain crazy. He’s been bloody sick.’
She crossed her arms, standing firm. ‘Do you think in their love for you their intentions might be misguided, that they’re trying to have a repeat performance of their life in you? Have the heir run the company?’ Understanding edged across her face. ‘You once told me that your parents’ marriage was traditional, a business merger, that their job was to run Camerons and produce an heir, didn’t you?’
He didn’t want to hear this, he wanted the words to stop. ‘And you’re stepping up to the plate to provide the next heir, aren’t you?’ The words sounded harsh, leaving the taste of regret in his mouth.
Her jaw clenched. ‘This isn’t about me, it’s all about you.’ She stepped toward him, putting her hand on his sleeve. Empathy stirred in her eyes. ‘Why are you letting this situation at Camerons slide on with no end in sight? You’ve done your part, paid your dues, been a caring and loving son.’
Her warmth seeped into him, trying to soothe. He threw off her hand, hating the betrayal of his body to her touch. Hating how close to the truth she was. ‘You don’t have any idea of what you’re talking about.’
‘I think I do. You’ve enjoyed this time, getting to know your father. You’ve had a chance you missed out on as a kid, and you made him a promise you don’t want to break. But it isn’t making you happy.’
