Birthright

by Fiona Lowe

  It screamed family home, kids and pets. Did Luke live with one of his married brothers? Even as Ellie searched her memories of their nightly phone conversations, she knew that if he’d told her that, she’d have remembered. Unlike her, he chatted easily about his parents and siblings, freely sharing stories with her. It was as though he wanted her to get to know his family so she was familiar with them before she met them. If she met them.

  Switching off the ignition, she grabbed the bottle of wine Sarah had forced on her and hopped out of the car. As she approached the front door, an old kelpie struggled to its feet to vet her. She bent down and scratched him behind the ears. ‘It’s okay. He invited me.’

  ‘I did.’ Light spilled onto the veranda and she looked up to see a smiling Luke leaning casually against the doorway with a tea towel slung over his shoulder. ‘Hec, this is Ellie.’ The dog sniffed her crotch and Luke laughed. ‘Stop it, Hec. Sorry, he’s out of practice greeting women. A bit like his owner.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think any tarnish you might have had from lack of use has been well and truly polished away.’

  ‘You think so, eh?’ He pushed off the doorframe, loose limbed and with eyes twinkling. ‘You do realise you’re engaging in blatant flirting, Ellie Jamieson?’

  A rush of delight hit her. ‘I’ve been practising too.’

  ‘I’m honoured.’ He opened his arms. ‘Incoming kiss?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She stepped into him, giving thanks for the wondrous absence of alarm bells. She rose on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and let the bottle of wine hang against his back. Pressing her lips against his, she tasted the tang and heat of chilli. It was as natural as breathing to deepen the kiss. Luke pulled her tightly against him, groaning softly into her mouth and her body leaped, hot and ready, craving him. For the first time in years, she didn’t second guess her sexual instincts. More than anything, she wanted to tumble into them.

  Hec barked. When they ignored him, he determinedly shoved his muzzle between them.

  Luke broke the kiss with a frustrated grunt.

  ‘Mate, you’re seriously cramping my style. Back to your bed.’ He pointed to it. ‘Now.’

  Hec threw them both a doleful look before retreating arthritically to the dog bed.

  ‘This is for you.’ Ellie handed Luke the wine and as he read the label, he gave a low whistle. Ellie hastily added, ‘Sarah chose it, paid for it and sent it. My budget leans more towards cask wine.’

  ‘Mine falls somewhere in between but I’m not saying no to this.’

  ‘I’m really sorry Sarah gave you the third degree. If I’d known she was going to do that, I wouldn’t have told her about this …’ Her hands fluttered. ‘I mean … us.’

  ‘Us?’ He grinned at her. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  He ushered her inside and led her through the open-plan house, past a closed door she assumed was the master bedroom, through a wide formal lounge and dining area with a large but rather dated floor vase silk flower arrangement before entering the kitchen. A long island bench separated the space from a family room complete with a flat-screen television. Unlike the other rooms, this one felt lived in—there was a worn couch, stained coffee table and what looked like hastily stacked Australian Geographic magazines. Numerous doors opened off the space and she assumed they were bedrooms, the bathroom and the laundry. It was an enormous house for a bachelor.

  Luke set the wine on the bench then stirred a pot on the stove before turning back to her. ‘Can you do the honours? Glasses are on the table. I just have to check our free-range organic chook.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep the wine for another occasion?’

  ‘Once I would have saved it but now I’m all about the here and now.’

  Six chairs surrounded a rectangular wooden table set for two, the placemats adjacent to each other at one end. She cracked the seal on the cabernet shiraz that was worth more than the clothes she was wearing and poured two glasses.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘It’s all good. I’ve just got to—’ His mobile rang and he checked the display. ‘Shit. Sorry. I have to take this.’

  ‘No problem.’ She felt uncomfortable eavesdropping on his phone call so, sipping the Baby Grange, she wandered into the lounge room to check out the bookshelves she’d been rushed past. Unlike her tatty collection of favourite novels—paperbacks she’d picked up at garage sales and fetes over the years—Luke’s collection looked to be antique leather. Once again, this man didn’t fit the image of the average plumber.

  Wondering which of the classics he enjoyed, she peered at the closely packed titles. Not recognising any of them, she hooked her fingernail into the top of one and tugged. It didn’t budge. She added another finger and pulled harder. The entire collection suddenly jerked forward, coming away in her hand. After her initial horror that she’d broken something, she laughed. The ‘books’ were a series of spines glued onto masonite. She hastily restored the magnificent fake collection to the shelf.

  Glancing around the room, she couldn’t shift the feeling that the decor wasn’t really Luke. There was an upright piano on the opposite wall with its lid down and she wickedly wondered if it was real. Before she lifted the dusty lid, she paused to look at a collection of photographs. Housed in a variety of frames, the four photos positioned at the front featured the same two men. Both had muddy blond hair and a look of Luke, so much so that she didn’t think it a stretch to assume they were his brothers. One photo showed them proudly holding an enormous fish aloft. Photos two and three showed each man standing next to a woman of similar age, plus a handful of children. The fourth photo included Luke, his brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews and an older couple Ellie guessed were his parents. Everyone was smiling at the camera.

  There were photos of Luke water skiing and snow skiing and individual pictures of his nieces and nephews, including one of a little girl posing coquettishly in a blue full-length dress decorated with shimmering snowflakes. This must be Izzy. By now Ellie was at the back row of the photos and the frames were dustier. A young Luke proudly standing next to a brand-new ute, another of him with a kelpie puppy nestled in his arms and a photo of a woman dancing on a concrete slab. Was it the foundation of this house? Ellie picked it up and studied it but it was a distance shot and impossible to tell. When she set it back down she noticed the wedding photo.

  Luke, heart-stoppingly sexy in a tuxedo and his face wreathed in a wide smile, wasn’t staring straight at the camera. His gaze was riveted on the smiling bride by his side. Her heart shuddered. Perhaps he was the best man? But the unequivocal love on his face and the shining gold band on his left hand betrayed that idea. Ellie didn’t suffer from envy very often but now its toxic tendrils wrapped around her heart before reaching out with strangling intent to the unknown woman wearing a strapless beaded gown. If anyone deserved to be strangled, it was Luke. Was this what Sarah had intimated? If it was, then how the hell did it make Luke a good man?

  Clutching the photo and filled with questions that demanded answers, Ellie marched back to the kitchen.

  Luke was just ending the call and he threw her an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry about that. I’ve got a tender in for the new building program at the primary school and—’

  ‘You’ve spent hours telling me everything about your brothers and their wives and yet you’ve failed to mention this.’ She belligerently propped the dusty photo on the bench, not caring that she’d interrupted him.

  ‘I see you’ve been having a look around.’

  His mild censure briefly made her feel wrong-footed but then it fuelled her sense of betrayal. ‘When were you going to tell me?’

  ‘Over dinner.’ He held her gaze. ‘It’s the reason I invited you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her indignation deflated, leaving her feeling like she’d completely overreacted.

  ‘But it’s probably best I tell you now, right?’

  Understanding played in the crea
ses around his eyes, both annoying and soothing her. ‘Are you always so bloody reasonable?’

  His mouth twitched. ‘Only when I know I’m probably in the wrong. Sarah’s right. I should have told you before now.’ He picked up the photo and dusted it with the tea towel. ‘This is my wife, Miranda.’

  ‘But you told me you were single. You told me you’d had a crush on me since you were eleven.’ She hated how needy she sounded.

  ‘And both those things are true. But you left town when I was fourteen, Ellie. I pined for you right up until Carly Benson got boobs. She was very good at helping me move on.’

  She wanted to smile at his easy humour and the way he was gently showing her how ridiculous she was being, but the question of why he hadn’t told her about his marriage ate at her. If he hadn’t told her that, what else wasn’t he telling her?

  He flicked off the gas under the gravy and pulled the chook out of the oven before covering it with foil. ‘Come on, let’s do this sitting down.’ He picked up his glass and walked to the couch.

  She didn’t want a cosy sit, she just wanted the facts. But remaining standing made her look silly so she sat on the opposite end of the four-seater couch. A couch he’d likely sat on with his wife.

  ‘You and Miranda built this house, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘We bought it off the plan to suit our idea of having a couple of kids and a guest room for when her parents visited. That was the easy bit. We didn’t always see eye to eye on decorating, so in the spirit of compromise, we agreed she’d decorate the interior and I’d landscape the garden.’

  That explained the feeling she’d got in the lounge room. ‘It’s a huge house for one person. Why didn’t you sell it after the divorce?’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I’m not divorced, Ellie. Miranda died.’

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She steepled her hands in front of her mouth. ‘I—Oh—It’s just you both look so young in the photo, I thought … Shit. Sorry.’ She drank more wine. ‘Are you okay talking about this?’

  He was silent for a moment. ‘The thing is, everyone around here knows my story so I don’t have to talk about it. And then I met you. And not that I’ve dated a lot of women, but you’re the first one who didn’t know Miranda. Hell, you didn’t even know she’d existed. I wanted to tell you. I’ve been going to tell you but then …’ He suddenly dropped his gaze and stared down into his wine.

  Goose bumps skated across her skin. ‘But what?’

  He raised his head, a look of anguish bright on his face. ‘You and me … Us … You’re already dealing with a lot. I didn’t want to add to it.’

  ‘Oh, Luke.’ The weight of his concern threatened to bury her. ‘It’s not your job to protect me. We won’t work if you tiptoe around me, treating me with kid gloves. You’ve got equal rights in this relationship too. I mean … God.’ She moved in closer. ‘She was your wife. You loved her. She’s part of who you are. You should feel you can talk about her to me if you want to. Do you want to?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t feel the need to talk about her a lot any more. It’s five years since she died. The first two were fucking hard, but it’s got easier.’

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘Leukaemia. Bloody awful disease. Miranda was always a whirlwind of energy and suddenly she was tired all the time but as we’d just found out she was pregnant, everyone said it was the baby. When she miscarried, we stupidly thought that was the worst thing to happen to us, but we had no idea. They ran some routine blood tests at the hospital and our world fell apart.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘The only thing cancer gives you is advance warning. The chemo made her so bloody sick I gave up work to look after her. At first, the treatment seemed to work and she got well enough for us to take a couple of trips. Then she stopped responding. In the end, we got ten months.’

  Heartache for him and relief for herself did an odd dance in Ellie’s chest. This was what Sarah wanted her to know—whoever Luke loved, he did it with his whole heart, and put them first. ‘She was blessed to be loved by you.’

  If he heard her, he didn’t show it. ‘Before Miranda died, she told me she wanted me to be happy.’ He linked his fingers through hers. ‘And you make me happy.’

  Tell him. But she couldn’t. He’d just told her she made him happy and she wasn’t going to tempt fate. Tears welled in her eyes and her throat thickened. ‘Do I? I don’t understand how, but I love that I do. You make me happy too.’

  He dropped his head close to hers, the fresh scent of soap and aftershave crisp and clean. Breathing him in, she slid her palm along his cheek and he kissed her long and deep. Her entire body sighed. As his lips pressed kisses along her jaw, her head fell back, inviting him to extend his touch to her neck … and that’s when she glimpsed the silhouette of the large brown vase.

  ‘Um, Luke.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He didn’t stop the wondrous thing the tip of his tongue was doing to her, making her body sing. Her hands tightened on his shoulders and he stilled. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

  ‘No …’

  He lifted his head, his blue eyes full of questions. ‘I’m sensing a but.’

  She sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I love it when you kiss me. I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you and touch you and you’re the first guy I’ve wanted to have sex with in forever.’

  He grinned at her like a puppy, his face alight with hope. ‘I’m liking the sound of this.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I know you said Miranda wanted you to be happy, but I’m not sure she’d be totally thrilled that I’m pashing you in her house.’ She pointed down the hall to the vase. ‘And it’s still very much her house, isn’t it? I can feel her here.’

  He looked around as if he was seeing the decor for the first time. Understanding dawned. ‘I see what you mean. Is it making you uncomfortable?’

  ‘Little bit. Not so much in here. This area says “Luke”, but back there, it’s very much “Miranda”.’

  ‘I really only live in this part of the house.’

  ‘But I’m guessing the bedroom still has her decorating style?’

  He looked sheepish. ‘Ah, yeah. It’s not going to work for us in there, is it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your place?’

  ‘Shit, no.’

  He face-palmed. ‘Noah. Right. Sorry. I get it.’

  ‘I think we need neutral territory. You still got that voucher for the B&B?’

  * * *

  When Ellie told Sarah their plans, her sister whisked Noah off on a boy’s own adventure—indoor trampolining, junk food and a sleepover—freeing Ellie for a day and a night away with Luke.

  He’d been jumpy from the moment he picked her up. Seeing him nervous was oddly soothing; it eased her niggles of disquiet.

  ‘I’ve got it all planned,’ he said, shoving a sheaf of tourism guides at her instead of a hello kiss. ‘And a playlist, unless you prefer something else?’

  ‘Let’s start with your music and if I hate it, I’ll let you know.’

  They drove along the back roads, past winter-brown paddocks and sheep heavy with wool, avoiding the Hume Freeway for as long as possible until they reached a winery on the banks of Tuesday Creek, a tributary of the Murray River. Luke had arranged an incredible degustation lunch cooked by the vintner’s Italian wife and served with matching wines. Luke’s knowledge and passion about food and wine outclassed hers by a country mile. As much as she appreciated all his efforts, their conversation ebbed more than once and Ellie wondered if they should have gone straight to the B&B and had sex so she could get easy-going Luke back.

  After a quiet walk along the river to help shift their lunch along and avoid a food coma, Luke asked if she wanted to call in to one of the bookstores in Rutherglen.

  Ellie took control. ‘It’s after three. Why don’t we check in first?’

  As their host retreated, closing the bedroom gently behind her, they stood stunned, staring at the
teddy bear–laden room. The bear brigade wasn’t restricted to the queen-sized bed: they graced shelves, the dressing table and the window sill. The brown glass eyes of the faux-antique toys seemed to follow their every move.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Luke breathed out. ‘I wasn’t counting on an audience.’

  ‘Worried they’ll rate you?’ she spluttered.

  ‘I’ve already got performance anxiety.’

  It was the most ludicrous room Ellie had ever seen and laughter took over, holding her captive until her ribs ached and she was fighting for breath. Collapsing onto the bed, she spread her arms wide and said, ‘Take a photo for our memory book.’

  ‘No frigging way.’ He grabbed at the bears, tossing the passion-killers across the room. ‘I should have just ravished you under that tree by the river while my masculinity was still intact.’

  Suddenly sober, she caught his hand and pulled him onto the bed next to her. ‘Bears or no bears, I’m just happy I’m here with you.’

  Dejection played in the brackets of his mouth. ‘I wanted the weekend to be special.’

  ‘It is special. I feel like the Queen. No mothering duties, being chauffeur driven, a six-course lunch and a gorgeous walk in the winter sunshine.’ She rolled on her side and stroked his face, her love for him growing by the minute. ‘If we were any other couple, we would have tumbled into bed a couple of hours after you smiled at me and gave me coffee when I was standing in a flooded house. You made me feel like I was the only woman on the planet. No planning would have been involved, just spontaneous sex. But we’re not and we didn’t and now sex has become this huge event and—’

  ‘Don’t say you’re sorry.’

  ‘Actually, I wasn’t going to.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And I never thought I’d be the one saying this, but Luke, you gotta relax.’