The Sun in Her Eyes (32 page)

‘Of course I can. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?’

‘No, honestly, it’s fine. You should stay and celebrate.’

I feel bad for Tina and Josh. Not only have I put a dampener on their engagement announcement, but also they’ll be worried that what I’ve got is catching.

After a few more minutes, I stand up and venture outside the cubicle. Hanging my head in shame, I return to the table.

‘Oh Amber!’ Tina exclaims with dismay. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I reply, shaking my head.

‘Don’t be silly! Were you feeling ill earlier? You should have told me, I wouldn’t have made you come.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Josh interjects drily.

Tina shrugs, shamefaced. ‘Well, I
might’ve
still dragged you here.’

‘Damn right you would have,’ Josh concurs.

Ethan stands up, presumably to make room for me.

‘I won’t sit back down,’ I tell him hurriedly. ‘I’ll wait for the taxi here.’

‘I’m dropping you home,’ he states, edging out from the table.

‘You don’t need to,’ I reply quickly, surprised.

‘He insisted,’ Nell tells me.

‘I have to get back to work soon, anyway. It’s fine,’ he says calmly, steadily meeting my eyes. He’s working on Easter Monday? It’s all go during harvest,
that’s for sure.

I take a shaky breath. ‘Okay. Bye, everyone. So sorry again.’

Another series of apologies and reassurances is exchanged before we take our leave. I walk with Ethan to the car park behind the pub.

‘Thank you,’ I breathe.

He doesn’t reply. In fact, we don’t speak at all for the first few minutes of our journey. I just stare miserably out of the window, occasionally hearing his heavy sigh. He’s
the first to break the silence.

‘I’ve been thinking…’

I glance at him and he clears his throat, casting me a guarded look.

‘Go on,’ I encourage.

‘It’s just that this seems very, very early to be having morning sickness.’ He pauses. ‘Are you sure it’s mine?’

‘Good try,’ I reply drily. ‘But I had my period last month. And anyway, I think I remember feeling queasy early on in my last pregnancy, too. Everyone’s
different.’

He thinks for a moment. ‘Well, maybe you should do another test, anyway, to be sure. Aren’t there digital ones that tell you how pregnant you are, or something?’

I nod. ‘I was planning on doing one of those as soon as I can get to a flippin’ chemist that’s open.’ Maybe I should just go to the doctor.

‘Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?’ he asks carefully.

‘No,’ I reply through gritted teeth.

‘We have to talk about this,’ he says. ‘A, we
have
to.’

‘What?’ I raise my voice. ‘What do you want to say exactly?’

He sighs and pulls off the road. I fold my arms in front of my chest and hug myself in an attempt to bring comfort. The gesture fails. He switches off the engine and swivels to face me.

‘Amber,’ he says softly. ‘Amber, look at me.’

I hesitantly do as he asks. His dark-green eyes are brimming with concern. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s no use.

‘I don’t want another baby, A .’

I crumble, my whole body beginning to shake with silent sobs.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says. ‘You know I love you, but the timing of this… It’s just
wrong
.’

‘No,
really
?’ I cry sarcastically, my sobs cutting short as I stare at him.

‘I don’t want to put pressure on you—’

‘HA!’ I exclaim.

He hesitates, looking down at my lap before continuing quietly, ‘It would be remiss of me not to tell you how I feel. You’ve got choices to make and you need to be
informed.’

Jesus, has he rehearsed this?

‘The way I see it, you’ve got three options. One, you can have an abortion.’

I gulp back a sob and hug myself harder.

‘No one would ever have to know,’ he says gently. ‘You could go back to England and Ned would be none the wiser.’

I stare out of the window again. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

‘Two, you can keep it. You tell Ned the truth. Maybe he’ll forgive you.’

I scoff. Unbloodylikely.

‘Either way, I’d be happy to give you financial support,’ he says.

‘That’s big of you,’ I chip in bitterly.

Ethan carries on as though I haven’t spoken. ‘But my guess is that Ned wouldn’t want my help if he chooses to raise the baby himself.’

‘I think that’s a pretty smart guess,’ I say sardonically. ‘But trust me, we’ll be done the moment he finds out about this.’

‘Three, you can keep it,’ he says, pausing for so long that I dare to look at him; dare to hope. ‘You could pretend it’s Ned’s.’

I’m so stunned, I’m rendered completely speechless. A moment later, my anger kicks in. No, anger is too small a word. Fury… Rage…
Uncontrollable
rage…

‘You bastard!’ I spit, beyond disgusted. I yank at the door and shove it open. He reaches for me as I unclick my seat belt, but I violently shake him off and climb out of the car.
‘You
bastard
!’ I scream as he gets out and looks at me jadedly.

‘Okay. Okay,’ he says, putting his hands up. ‘Three is not an option. Fine.’

‘
Not
fine!’ Tears stream down my cheeks. ‘God, I thought you were going to say…’ I laugh bitterly. ‘I thought…’ My laughter becomes a
little more desperate. ‘I thought…’

‘What?’ he prompts, weightily resting his elbows on the car roof.

My laughs cease suddenly. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ I shake my head. ‘I’m so stupid. So stupid.’

‘A, tell me what you’re thinking,’ he commands.

I laugh hysterically again, still shaking my head, then I look at him, tears streaming relentlessly down my cheeks. ‘I thought you were going to tell me that option three was us.
Us!
But that’s not even a consideration for you, is it, Ethan? Me divorcing Ned, staying in Australia, the two of us raising this child together?’ I start to cry properly.
‘Us building a house out on the property, maybe even getting married and having more children? Our own little happy family?’ Now I’m laughing and crying at the same time. I most
certainly resemble a madwoman. All I need now is the men in the white coats to come and take me away.

‘I love you, you arsehole,’ I say. ‘I always have.’

He stares at me bleakly.

‘What a waste,’ I whisper. ‘What a waste.’

I morosely climb back into the car. He returns to his own seat and shuts his door, glancing across at me. I can’t even look at him.

How did the Prince Charming of my childhood turn out to be such a crushing disappointment?

Maybe he wasn’t Prince Charming in the first place.

‘It’s not out of the question,’ he says, prompting yet another bitter laugh to erupt from my mouth.

‘Forget it, Ethan,’ I reply, staring at him. He looks torn. ‘I can’t talk about this anymore,’ I say blandly, returning my eyes to the front. ‘Let’s
go.’

‘Happy birthday to you…’ A kiss. ‘Happy birthday to you…’ Another kiss. Tiny little kisses peppered all over my bare tummy.

‘Ned…’ I giggle, rousing awake. ‘That tickles.’

His kisses don’t stop and I reach down, running my hands through his shaggy hair, tugging it slightly.

‘Mmm,’ he says, crawling back up to my mouth and kissing me. ‘I love you.’

I smile against his lips. ‘I love you, too.’

His smile fades – and fades – until he’s regarding me with such intense hatred that his eyes are almost black with it. My heartbeat speeds up, thumping violently and painfully
inside my chest.

‘I wish you hadn’t killed our baby, though,’ he says, picking up a pillow and placing it over my face.

I bolt awake, gasping for breath. Just-a-dream-just-a-dream-just-a-dream… I clutch my throat, trying to stifle my cries.

Grey light is spilling from underneath the blinds. It’s morning. It’s Tuesday. I’m going to see Doris today. It’s okay. It’s okay. I repeat this to myself until my
heart rate settles and I can breathe properly again.

What a horrible dream!
And then I remember that reality is almost as bad.

Clare is a small town about two hours north of Adelaide and we set off straight after breakfast. Liz is driving us in her car so I have time to sit in the back seat and
reflect.

Dad went off his nut yesterday when Ethan dropped me home. I was hoping to sneak into my room before he could see my face, but it’s almost as though he was waiting for me. Even Liz made
herself scarce for once.

‘Oh Amber,’ he said with dismay when he saw that I’d been crying. ‘What is he doing to you?’

‘Nothing, Dad! Please just leave it.’

‘He’s not good enough for you,’ he mumbled disconsolately.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I rolled my eyes because he’d said the same thing only that morning and it really was such a stereotypical-father thing to say.

But he wasn’t about to be put off.

‘He’s not!’ he repeated fervently. ‘No man who is that blind is worthy.’

‘Blind, how?’ This bit confused me.

‘You were in love with him!’

I realised then that he was talking about when I was younger.

‘How could he not see?’ he continued. ‘Perhaps he could. Perhaps he liked the attention, flaunting all those girls about. Such a spoiled boy. Parents gave him everything he
wanted.’

His speech was slurred because he was speaking quickly and not making the time or effort to sound out each word. But I could still understand him. Unfortunately. And he wasn’t finished
yet.

‘I walked you down the aisle. I was right next to you. I saw the way you looked at him. Your heart wasn’t in it when you married Ned.’

He was right, of course. My heart
wasn’t
with me at the altar. Not in full. Ethan had a chunk of it. He’s always had a chunk of it.

‘But you’re better off without him,’ Dad said finally, reaching the end of his fatherly lecture. ‘Don’t mess things up with Ned. He’s a good man.’

Don’t I know it? And as for not messing things up, it’s a bit late now.

Why didn’t my dad offer these words of advice years ago? Why did he stay quiet if he knew how I felt about Ethan? Would I have listened to him if he’d told me to steer clear?

Well, no.

Would I have listened to anyone?

The answer is a resounding no. No one could have convinced me that Ethan wasn’t perfect. I thought he was my soulmate. My saviour. The only thing standing in our way was the little issue
of him not feeling the same way about me.

And he
still
doesn’t feel the same way about me.

But my feelings for him are changing, too. The pedestal I put him on is cracking, crumbling, turning to rubble. He’s no longer my knight in shining armour. He’s just a man. A
selfish, unfaithful, flawed human being.

As am I.

What sort of parents would we make? This baby hasn’t a hope in hell.

I surreptitiously brush away my tears as I stare out of the window at the farmyards and vineyards flashing past.

When we drive into Clare, it’s almost eleven o’clock. Barry told us that his mother is staying with him and his wife at the moment. He’s keeping an eye on her after her fall. I
map-read and direct Liz from the back seat, and eventually we’re making our way along a long, dusty road to a colonial-style farmhouse. As we turn into the drive, the gardens become more
manicured, green and leafy and bursting with colour. Pink roses are planted in beds at the front of the house, and when I climb out of the car, the autumn air is scented with them. There’s
blue sky overhead, but it’s cool today. I help Dad to exit the car, but before he’s straightened up, the front door opens and a man appears.

‘Hello, there!’ he exclaims.

Liz goes forward to introduce herself while I hand Dad his walking stick and offer the man a small, nervous smile. I overhear him saying his name is Barry, and once Dad is set and I’ve
double-checked the ground for any rocks that may trip him up, I walk forward to say hello.

Barry is in his late sixties, at a guess, with thinning, grey hair and a rounded tummy. His smile is wide and genuine and I like him immediately.

‘Is your mother feeling better?’ I ask, relaxing slightly as I shake his hand.

‘Yes, but she doesn’t like sitting around,’ he replies in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘She wants to be useful. It’s good that you’re here. You’ve given
her something to think about.’

We follow him inside the house, where we’re greeted by a grey-haired woman, who at first glance I assume is Doris, but who turns out to be Barry’s wife, Patricia. Doris is in the
living room, sitting in a wheelchair. She has long white hair that has been twisted into a bun at the back of her head and she’s wearing a pale pink jumper. She looks small and frail, but her
blue eyes are bright and expectant as we walk into the room.

‘Mum, this is Amber, Len and Liz,’ Barry says. ‘This is my mother, Doris.’

‘Amber,’ Doris says, her posture becoming more erect. ‘Come here,’ she directs me in a weak, gravelly voice. ‘There you are,’ she says with a knowing smile,
eagerly scanning my features as I tentatively approach. She puts her hands on her armrests and begins to heave herself to her feet.

‘Mum!’ Barry exclaims, rushing forward, and I gasp as I spy the nasty purple-and-red bruise on her right temple.

‘Let me be,’ Doris snaps at him, momentarily letting go of the armrest to bat him away.

‘Mum,
please
, just stay seated for today,’ he begs.

‘I want to see her more closely,’ she replies crossly, peering up at me.

‘Here, I’m here.’ I kneel down on the pale-green carpet in front of her.

She stills for a moment, a frown etched on her forehead, before she relaxes and settles back into her seat.

‘Yes. Yes,’ she says. ‘I can see you. Your eyes… Your hair.’ She lets out a little laugh. ‘My, you’ve grown.’

‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ Patricia timidly interrupts. ‘Tea? Coffee? Something cold?’

I hear Dad and Liz asking for tea and glance over my shoulder, nodding for the same. I return my eyes to Doris’s.