The Bridesmaid's Baby (6 page)

All the time she worked, Will was silent, watching her with a curious smile that she tried very hard to ignore.

‘I guess this isn’t quite how you expected to spend your evening,’ she said as she finally began to suture the delicate skin together.

‘Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’ He chuckled softly. ‘You have to admit, it’s a unique experience. How many guys have watched a barefoot bridesmaid stitch up a python at midnight?’

Lucy couldn’t help smiling. ‘You make it sound like some kind of medieval witches’ ritual.’

‘The rites of spring?’

‘Maybe, but then again, how many vets have been assisted by a hun—a guy in best man’s clobber?’

Lucy thanked heavens she’d retracted the word
hunk.
For heaven’s sake. It was the dinner suit factor. Stick the plainest man in a tuxedo and his looks were improved two hundred per cent. Will in a tuxedo was downright dangerous.

But she was grateful for his help. Working side by side with him again, she’d felt good in a weirdly unsettled-yet-comfortable way. They’d always worked well together.

‘You’re a tough cookie,’ Will told her. ‘You were white as a ghost and shaking when I came in and yet you morphed into a steady-handed snake surgeon.’

‘It’s my job,’ she said, trying not to look too pleased.

She dropped the suture needles into the tray and snapped off her sterile gloves, removed the paper apron
and rolled up the disposable sheet she’d used to drape over the wound.

‘So where will we put this fellow while he sleeps off his ordeal?’ Will asked.

‘He’ll have to go in one of the cages out the back.’ Carefully, she peeled away the masking tape that had kept the snake straight.

‘Shall I do the honours?’

‘Thanks, Will. There’s a cage in the far corner, away from the other patients. If you give me a minute, I’ll line it with thick newspaper to keep him warm and dry.’

By the time the python was safely in its cage it was long past midnight but, to Lucy’s surprise, she didn’t feel tired any more. She tried to tell herself that she’d found working on a completely new species exhilarating, but she knew very well it had everything to do with Will’s presence.

She’d felt relaxed and focused and it had been like stepping back in time to their student days. But, dear heaven, it was such a long time ago and they couldn’t really go back, could they?

‘Let’s go through to the kitchen,’ she said once they’d cleaned up.

She snapped the kitchen light on and the room leapt to life. She was rather proud of the renovations she’d made to this room, painting the walls a soft buttercup and adding hand painted tiles to the splashback over the sink. And she’d spent ages hunting for the right kind of cupboards and shelving in country-style second-hand shops.

‘I’d better let the boys in.’

As soon as Lucy opened the back door, Seamus and Harry bounded inside, greeting her with doggy kisses and fiercely wagging tails, as if she’d been away for six months.

At last the dogs calmed down and she turned to Will. ‘I think you’ve earned a drink.’

‘I believe I have,’ he agreed and he immediately began to remove his jacket and tie.

Lucy drew a sharp breath, already doubting the soundness of this idea. But she couldn’t send Will packing after he’d been so helpful. Surely two old friends could have a drink together?

‘What are you in the mood for?’
Oh, cringe. What a question.
‘Alcohol or coffee?’ she added quickly.

She opened the fridge. ‘If you’d like alcohol, I’m afraid there’s only beer or white wine.’

Will chose beer and Lucy poured a glass of wine for herself. She found a wedge of Parmesan cheese and freshly shelled walnuts and set them on a platter with crackers and slices of apple.

‘Come on through to the lounge room,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty shabby, though. I started renovating the kitchen and then ran out of enthusiasm.’

Tonight, however, Lucy was surprised. She hadn’t drawn the curtains and the lounge room, now flooded by moonlight, had taken on a strangely ethereal beauty. The shabbiness had all but disappeared and the garish colours of the cotton throws she’d used to cover the tattered upholstery had taken on a subtle glow.

‘I might leave the lights off,’ she said. ‘This room is definitely improved by moonlight.’

‘Everything’s improved by moonlight.’

She studiously ignored this comment in the same way that she avoided the sofa and flopped into a deep, comfy single chair instead.

With a be-my-guest gesture she directed Will to the
other chair. Then, as the dogs settled on the floor, heads on paws, niggles of disquiet returned to haunt her. It was such a long time since she and Will had been alone like this.

‘Try some Parmesan and apple,’ she said, diving for safety by offering him the plate. ‘Have you tried them together? It’s a nice combination.’

Will obliged and made appropriately, appreciative noises.

Lucy took a sip of wine. In many ways this was one of her favourite fantasies—talking to Will late into the night. But in the fantasies there’d been no awkwardness. They had been as comfortable and relaxed as they were ten years ago, before they’d drifted apart.

Lucy wondered what they would discuss now. Will had hinted that he had specific things he wanted to talk about. Would he raise them now? She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his thoughts on marriage and babies and being over the hill.

Perhaps he still felt that tonight wasn’t the night to be deep and meaningful. She searched for a safe topic that didn’t include weddings, or honeymoons, or babies.

‘So, have you started hunting for a new job?’ she asked.

‘I haven’t put in any applications yet.’ Will settled more comfortably into his chair, crossed an ankle over a knee. ‘But I’ve found a few positions I might apply for. There’s even one in Armidale, at the university.’

‘In Armidale?’ So close? To cover her surprise, Lucy said, ‘I have trouble picturing you as an academic behind a desk.’

He shrugged. ‘I thought it would make a nice change, after years of hiking over deserts and mountains looking for rocks.’

‘There’s that, I guess.’ She couldn’t resist adding facetiously, ‘I suppose geology is a young man’s job.’

Will smiled into his glass, took a swig, then set it down.

‘I imagine your parents would like you to take up farming,’ she suggested.

‘They’ve never mentioned it.’ He sighed. ‘They’re actually talking about selling up.’

‘Really?’ Lucy stared at him, horrified.

‘My mother’s been bitten by the travel bug.’

‘She must have caught it from you.’

Will smiled crookedly. ‘Perhaps.’

‘But your family’s been farming Tambaroora for five generations.’

‘And now they’ve come to the end of the line,’ Will said dryly.

Nervous now, Lucy chewed at her lower lip. Already they were treading on sensitive ground. Everyone in the district had always known that Will’s older brother, Josh, was expected to take over the family farm.

Josh’s death had changed everything.

She closed her eyes, as if to brace herself for the slam of pain that she always felt when she thought about that time.

‘We’ve never talked about it, Lucy.’

She didn’t have to ask what Will meant. The fact that they had never really talked since Josh’s death had been like an unhealed wound inside her. ‘There wasn’t any chance to talk,’ she said defensively. ‘You went away straight after the funeral.’

‘There were lots of good reasons for me not to stay. Your father didn’t help.’

‘My father?’

‘After Josh’s funeral, I tried to phone. I turned up on your doorstep, but your father wouldn’t let me near you.’

Lucy stared at Will, stunned. ‘I didn’t know that.’ Her
eyes stung and she blinked back tears. If she’d known Will had called, what would she have done? What might have been different?

Will’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘Your father was probably right to protect you. I…I can’t imagine that I would have been much help at the time.’

Lucy swallowed to ease the aching lump in her throat. She’d been in a terrible state after the funeral and the miscarriage. The really awful thing was that everyone thought she was grieving, and she was, of course, but a huge part of her distress had been caused by her overpowering feelings of guilt. ‘Did you know…about the baby?’

‘Gina told me at the time,’ Will said quietly. And then, after a beat, ‘I’m really sorry, Lucy.’

He sounded almost too apologetic, as if somehow he felt responsible. But that didn’t make sense.

Lucy willed her hand to stop trembling as she held out the plate to him and he made a selection. For some time they sat in silence, nibbling walnuts in the silvered half-light, and then Will changed the subject.

‘You’ve done so well here,’ he said. ‘I’m hearing from everyone that you’re a fabulous vet.’

‘I love my job.’

Will nodded, then he asked carefully, ‘So you’re happy, Lucy?’

From force of habit, a lie leapt to her lips. ‘Of course.’ She reached down and patted Harry’s silky black and white head. ‘I’m perfectly happy. I love this district. I love my work.’

‘But is it enough?’

Oh, help.
Lucy covered her dismay with a snappy reply. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘An important one.’

‘You answer it then.’ She knew she sounded tense, but she couldn’t help it. Will’s question unnerved her. It was too searching, too close to a truth she didn’t want to reveal. ‘Are you happy, Will? Is your work enough?’

‘Not any more.’

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected and she took a moment to digest it. ‘I suppose that’s why you’re looking for something different?’

‘I suppose it is.’ He circled the rim of his glass with his finger. ‘I’ve had a bit of a wake up call.’

A swift flare of shock ripped through Lucy like a sniper’s gunshot. ‘Will, you’re not sick, are you?’

‘No, thank God, but I’ve had a close shave. I haven’t told my family this. I didn’t want to upset them, but there was an explosion in an old mine we were surveying.’

‘In Mongolia?’

‘Yes.’ His face was suddenly tight and strained. ‘The two men with me were both killed. Right in front of me. I’ve no idea how I escaped with a few scratches and bruises.’

‘Oh, God, Will, that’s terrible.’ Tears threatened again as Lucy tried not to think the unthinkable—that there had almost been a world where Will didn’t exist.

‘I went to their funerals,’ Will said quietly. ‘And they really opened my eyes.’

‘In what way?’

In the moonlight, she could see the sober intensity in Will’s face.

‘Barney was a bachelor, you see. No ties. So his funeral was a simple gathering of family and friends. There were a few words to say he was a good bloke and then a rather boozy wake. But Keith was a family man, always talking about his wife and three kids. And at the funeral his son spoke.’

Will sighed and rubbed at his forehead. ‘He was such a courageous little guy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old. And he stood up there in front of us, with these big brown eyes, shiny with tears. His voice was all squeaky and threatening to break, but he told us all how proud he was of his father and how he wanted to live his life in a way that would go on making his dad proud.’

Lucy’s throat ached at the thought of that little boy. She could picture his mother, too. The poor woman would have been so proud, despite her grief.

‘I can’t stop thinking about that kid,’ Will said. ‘He was like this fantastic gift to the world that Keith had left behind.’

Lucy reached for the handkerchief she’d tucked into the bodice of her dress and dabbed at her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will said. ‘I’m being maudlin, talking about funerals when we’ve just been to a wedding.’

‘No, it’s OK.’ She sniffed and sent him a watery smile. ‘It’s just happened to you, so of course it’s on your mind. Anyway, that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? Births, deaths and marriages.’

He smiled sadly. ‘I guess I’m a slow learner. It wasn’t till I was sitting in that church that I suddenly got it. I could finally understand why Gina went to so much trouble to have a family, and why Mattie was prepared to undergo something so amazingly challenging as a surrogate pregnancy.’

‘Yes,’ Lucy said, but the single word came out too loud and sounded more like a sob.

The dogs lifted their heads and made soft whining noises in her direction. With a cry of dismay, Will lurched to his feet.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I should be more sensitive. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.’

He was referring to her miscarriage. Would he be shocked to hear that she still longed for a baby, that her need was bordering on obsession?

With an angry shake of his head, he went to the window, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and looked out into the night.

Despite her tension, Lucy was mesmerised by the sight of him limned by moonlight. Her eyes feasted on his profile, on his intelligent forehead, on the decisive jut of his nose, his strong chin with its appealing cleft.

Without looking at her, he said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t found someone else and settled down to start a family.’

Oh, help.
Lucy stiffened. Again, Will had gone too far. Again, her chin lifted in defence and she hit back. ‘I could say the same about you.’

‘Ah.’ He turned back from the window. His eyes shimmered and he said in a dry tone, ‘But I’m the vagabond and you’re the homebody.’

Too true.

However, Lucy couldn’t help remembering how he’d come rushing back to Australia when she and Josh had announced their engagement.

She’d always wondered why.

But there was no way she could open up that discussion now. Not tonight.

She felt too vulnerable tonight and she was scared she might blurt out something she’d regret later. It would be too embarrassing and shameful to confess that she’d finally gone out with Will’s brother, hoping that word would reach Will and spark a reaction.

If she told him that, she’d also have to confess that the plan had backfired when she’d become pregnant.