His Secret Love-Child

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS almost noon when Gina woke and for a moment she didn’t have a clue where she was or what was happening.

Then remembrance flooded back and with it horror.

The events of the day before were a jumbled kaleidoscope of surging emotion. A desperately ill baby. Dead children. Appalling injuries. Cal…

CJ. She reached out and his warm little body wasn’t beside her. Of course. He was with the Grubbs.

Still?

She checked her watch and gasped. What was she thinking of, sleeping this late? The baby, CJ-she’d have been needed and no one had called. She threw back her covers and then gasped again as a man’s silhouette blocked the sun.

‘You might like to reconsider getting out of bed,’ Cal drawled. ‘Unless you’re wearing more than it looks like you’re wearing from out here.’

He was on the veranda. She’d left the door open last night to let in the sea breeze, and he was blocking the doorway. And as for what she was wearing… Last night-or early this morning-she’d simply stripped off her sea-soaked clothes, stood under a cold shower until her burning body had cooled and then fallen straight into bed.

And now here was Cal, right in the doorway.

‘Go away,’ she snapped, and hauled her sheet up to her chin.

‘I brought you your luggage,’ he told her, not going away at all but walking into her room and dumping her gear at the foot of the bed. ‘You could at least sound grateful.’

‘I’m grateful,’ she told him, glaring enough to give the lie to her words. But then she looked at the single red bag he was carrying and was distracted enough to be deflected. ‘I had two bags. A red and a green one.’

‘The red one’s heavy enough.’

‘I had a small green one.’

‘It didn’t come back, then,’ he told her. ‘The coach-line people delivered one red bag this morning but that was all there was. Problem?’

She caught herself. ‘Um…no.’ No problem. She was staying next door to a hospital after all.

Right. Where was she? Glaring.

‘There’s no problem if you go away,’ she told him, and he had the temerity to smile.

‘OK. But I’ve also brought you your son.’

CJ. She sat up, cautiously, still holding her sheet. ‘What have you done with CJ?’

‘You sound as if you expect that I’ve corrupted him by just existing.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she told him, still trying to hold her glower. Drat the man, why did he have to smile like that? ‘Where is he?’

‘He was right behind me but his puppy escaped into the garden. I can see them from here. The puppy seems to be investigating the lorikeets in the grevillea and CJ is supervising.’

She tried to sort this information but found it even more confusing. ‘His puppy?’

‘The Grubbs have given your son…our son…a puppy.’

There was a lot in that statement to consider-so she stuck to the easiest bit. ‘CJ can’t have a puppy,’ she said blankly.

‘I would have thought that.’ Cal stood at the end of her bed and looked at her, speculation and amusement lurking in those deep eyes. ‘But you did leave him with the Grubbs for the night.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘No, but you did, and the Grubbs are warm-hearted people who maybe lack a little in the grey-matter department. They have a puppy they don’t want-their bitch has a habit of finding all sorts of unsuitable partners and the Grubb puppies are legion in this place-and they’ve seen a little boy who falls in love. So they’ve done the obvious thing.’

Still too much information. She couldn’t figure it all out. And why was he standing there, just…smiling?

‘We’re going back to the States,’ she told him.

‘I guess the puppy is, too, then.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She went to toss back the covers, remembered and grabbed them back again. ‘Go away so I can dress.’

‘I’ll wait on the veranda.’

‘Wait anywhere you like. Just not here.’

‘I’ll watch CJ, shall I?’

‘Watch him all you want.’

‘Gina…’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re not being very kind.’

‘Why should I be kind?’ she demanded. ‘Just go away, Cal Jamieson. You don’t make me feel kind at all.’

By the time she’d showered and dressed she’d simmered down a little-but not much. Not enough. She walked out onto the veranda wearing her own clothes, a soft linen skirt and a T-shirt that didn’t look businesslike but at least made her feel clean and normal and almost in charge of her world. It was great to have her own gear. Or almost all her own gear. Then she saw Cal with her son and she forgot about her luggage and she wasn’t in charge of her world any more at all.

They were so alike it was breathtaking. Heartbreaking.

From the time CJ had been born she’d seen Cal every time she’d looked into her son’s face, and now, seeing them side by side, it was almost too much for her. When she walked out onto the veranda CJ was wearing Bruce’s hat, but the pup bounced up and knocked it off. Cal retrieved it and together they carefully inspected it for damage. CJ’s wiry curls, the intent look in his eyes, the way his forehead puckered in concentration… Their heads were almost touching, the sound of Cal’s grave voice telling the pup to leave the hat alone, CJ’s higher voice raised in a copied command-and then a low chuckle and a high-pitched giggle as the puppy bounced up and raced off with the hat again…

Practicalities, she told herself fiercely as she dug her hands deep into her skirt’s side pockets and walked steadily down the steps to meet them.

They heard her sandals on the steps and Cal turned-but as he turned, the pup saw a new pair of legs coming toward him, dropped the hat and bounced over to investigate.

For the first time she focussed on the dog. What was it?

A cross between a Dalmatian and a boxer with a bit of cocker spaniel thrown in, she thought. It looked half-grown, long and gangly and all legs. White with black spots. A face that looked like it had just been punched flat. Great ears that dangled past his collar.

He reached her and jumped up, his large paws landing on her thigh and darned near knocking her over. He looked up at her, and she could swear his big stupid canine face was grinning, and his black and white tail was wagging so fast it could have made electricity.

‘What sort of a dog is this?’ she gasped, trying to back off. But the pup wasn’t having any of it. He was leaping up and dancing around her, barking and grinning and grinning, and despite herself she had to grin back.

‘His name is Rudolph, after a ballet dancer Mrs Grubb saw on TV,’ CJ told her, looking at his mother with a certain amount of anxiety. ‘Mrs Grubb says he’s going to be the best dog in the world and he prances just like a ballet dancer. Can we keep him?’

Rudolph had raced back down to his new would-be owner. Now he squatted in pounce position, leapt at CJ, knocked him down, licked his face, then galloped back to Gina. Gina backed fast but he jumped up, the backs of her legs caught the veranda steps and she sat down. Hard.

Rudolph licked with a tongue that was roughly the size of a large facecloth.

‘Ugh,’ Gina said, stunned. She wiped her face and watched the dog gallop over to Cal.

‘Sit,’ Cal said.

Rudolph sat.

The tail was going ballistic.

‘CJ, we can’t keep this dog,’ she said, and if her voice sounded desperate, who could blame her? ‘For a start there’s no way we can take him home. He can hardly sit on my lap on the plane.’

‘He can sit on mine,’ CJ said stoutly, and Cal choked.

‘You laugh and I’m going to have to kill you,’ Gina said conversationally, and focussed on CJ. Or tried to focus on CJ. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she told him. ‘Did you mind sleeping at Mrs Grubb’s?’

‘No, because of Rudolph,’ he told her. ‘Mom, Mr Grubb says he has to take a dead tree to the rubbish tip and I can go in his truck if I want, and Rudolph can come, too, but I have to ask you first so Cal said we should wake you up.’

‘Gee, thanks, Cal,’ she said, and glowered.

‘Think nothing of it,’ Cal said, smiling blandly. ‘But Mr Grubb’s waiting. Can CJ go? Grubb’s very reliable.’

There were three faces looking at her in mute appeal. CJ’s, Cal’s, Rudolph’s. She was so out of her depth she was drowning.

‘Fine,’ she told them all, and was rewarded by a war whoop and the sight of her small son-and dog-flying away across the lawn to the dubious attractions of Crocodile Creek’s rubbish tip.

‘I haven’t even thought about when we’re leaving,’ Gina said, staring after her son in dismay.

‘Good,’ Cal told her.

‘You’re not still on about Townsville?’ she snapped, and he had the grace to look a bit shamefaced.

‘No. Gina, I’m sorry about last night.’

‘Good.’

‘I pushed you for my own ends.’

‘So you did.’

‘And I never meant that I didn’t want CJ to have been born. Of course I didn’t.’

‘Fine.’ She glowered. It seemed to be becoming a permanent state.

‘But it would be good for CJ to be raised where I could have some access.’

‘So move to the States.’

‘My base is here.’

‘No,’ she said, and her anger faded a bit as she turned to face him square on. ‘You don’t have a base.’

‘I’ve been here for four years.’

‘Yes, but you don’t love anyone here.’

‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Gina…’

‘You don’t need any of these people,’ she said. She’d gone to bed last night thinking of Cal, thinking of what was happening with him, and this discussion seemed an extension of that. It might be intrusive-none of her business-but him pushing her last night seemed to have removed the barriers to telling things how they were. ‘Cal, you’re spending your whole life patching people up, picking up the pieces, in medicine and in your personal life. Like with me. I came out here five years ago desperately unhappy and you picked up the pieces and you patched me up and I fell deeply in love with you. But then you don’t take the next step. You never admit you need anyone else. Is there anyone here you need? Really, Cal?’

‘I…’

‘Of course there’s not,’ she said, almost cordially. ‘Because of what happened with your family, you’ve never let yourself need anyone again.’

‘What is this?’ he demanded, startled. ‘Psychology by Dr Lopez?’

‘I know. It’s none of my business,’ she told him, gentling. ‘But it’s why I have to go home. Because I’ve admitted that I need people. I need my family and my friends.’ More, she thought, and the idea that swept across her heart was so strong that she knew it for absolute truth. She needed Cal. But she wouldn’t say that. She’d said it years ago, and where had that got her?

‘For me to calmly go and live in Townsville would hurt,’ she told him. ‘Sure, I’d have a great job…’

‘You’d meet people.’

‘So I would,’ she told him. ‘But not the people I love.’

‘You’d learn…’

‘You really don’t understand the need thing, do you, Cal?’ she said sadly. ‘I need my friends and I need my family and I’m not too scared to admit it.’

‘You’re saying I am?’

‘I’m not saying anything,’ she said wearily. ‘But Townsville’s not going to happen.’ She regrouped. Sort of. ‘And Rudolph’s not going to happen either,’ she told him, ‘so stop encouraging CJ.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Just stop it,’ she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, still trying for the regroup. ‘The baby. Lucky. How is he?’

‘He’s still holding his own,’ Cal told her. They’d both moved back into the shade of the veranda-in this climate you moved into the shade as if a magnet was pulling you. ‘There doesn’t seem any sign of infection. His heartbeat’s settling and steady.’

‘I’ll do another echocardiogram now.’

‘We thought you’d say that, so we waited for you to wake up.’

‘You should have-’

‘There was no need,’ he said gently, and she flushed. She hated it when he was gentle. She hated it when he was…how she loved him. ‘What about the bleeding?’

‘The results of yesterday’s blood tests should be in soon,’ he told her. ‘Alix, our pathologist, is working on them now.’

‘I haven’t used any clot-breaking medication,’ she said. ‘Usually after a procedure for pulmonary stenosis I’d prescribe a blood thinner but I’ve held off. There’s a fair risk of blood clots in infants this tiny, but if he’s a bleeder…’

‘Hamish concurs,’ he told her. ‘He’s saying von Willebrand’s is a strong possibility.’

She nodded, flinching inside as she thought through the consequences.

Von Willebrand’s was a treatable condition. A similar disorder to haemophilia, any cut or major bruising could be life-threatening, but treated it was far less dangerous. In fact, given this baby’s condition, it was a bonus in that it made it less likely that Lucky would get a clot.

But it left an even deeper sense of unease about the mother. A woman, or more likely a girl, who’d had no medical help during a birth, who had possibly told no one about the birth, who was on her own.

Was she right in her surmise that the girl wasn’t a bleeder? If she’d haemorrhaged afterwards…

‘Has there been any news about the mother?’

‘Nothing,’ Cal told her, and she could see by his face that he was following her train of thought and was as worried as she was. ‘The police and a couple of local trackers have been right through the bushland round the rodeo area. They’re sure that she’s no longer in the area. She must have come by car and left by car.’

‘Or by bus.’

‘Or bus.’

‘And maybe she has von Willebrand’s disease. Maybe she’s a bleeder.’

‘She or the father,’ Cal said.

‘I’m not worrying about the father right now,’ Gina told him. ‘I’m worrying too much about the mother. To give birth in such a place, to leave thinking your baby was dead… What she must be going through.’

They fell silent. Each knew what the other was thinking. Suicide was a very real possibility. If only they knew where she was. Who she was.

‘There’s no matching prenatal mothers in our records at all,’ Cal told her. ‘No clues.’

‘I thought everyone knew everyone in this district.’

‘No one knows who this is.’

‘Someone must,’ Gina said, and Cal nodded.

More silence.

‘Charles says his father had von Willebrand’s,’ Cal said, and Gina frowned.

‘Charles?’

‘Our medical director. The guy in the wheelchair.’

‘I know who Charles is,’ she snapped. ‘Charles’s father has von Willebrand’s?’

‘Had. He’s dead.’

‘Charles is a local?’ Gina was still thinking it through. ‘Von Willebrand’s is a rare blood disorder. In such a small community there has to be some connection.’

‘We talked it through last night,’ Cal told her. ‘After you and I…’ He broke off. ‘Well, when I came back to the house Charles was still awake and we ended up talking things through till almost dawn. Like you, when he said that I thought there must be a connection. But it seems unlikely.’

‘Why? Tell me about his family.’

‘Charles is a Wetherby. The Wetherbys own one of the biggest stations in the state-Wetherby Downs. Charles’s brother runs the station now.’ Cal hesitated. ‘I’m not sure why, but Charles and his family don’t get on. Charles was hurt in a shooting accident when he was eighteen. He went to the city for medical treatment, ended up staying to do medicine and only came back here to set up this service. He hasn’t had much to do with his family for years. But as for the von Willebrand’s… Charles himself doesn’t have kids. His brother doesn’t have von Willebrand’s, and his brother’s two kids are only fourteen and sixteen.’

‘The sixteen-year-old?’ she said quickly. ‘That’d fit. A girl?

‘Yes, but-’

‘A teenager in trouble and desperate not to tell her parents?’

‘Charles checked it out this morning,’ Cal told her. ‘She’s in boarding school in Sydney and hasn’t been home for a month.’

‘So we’ll cross her off the list,’ Gina said reluctantly. ‘Is there no other family?’

‘Charles’s only other sibling is a sister who moved to Sydney over twenty years back,’ he told her. ‘It was a lead worth following but it’s going nowhere.’

‘It just seems such a coincidence,’ she murmured. ‘It’s so rare.’

‘Charles’s father was not exactly a man of honour,’ Cal told her. ‘Charles volunteered that last night. The man was filthy rich, and used to get what he wanted. There’s more than an odds-on chance that he played around.’

‘But he’s dead,’ Gina said. ‘So we can’t ask him if he fathered anyone who might or might not have fathered someone who’s just had a baby. We’re clutching at straws here.’ She sighed. ‘OK. Enough. I’ll go and see the baby now.’ She hesitated. ‘But last night… The accident, the repercussions…’

‘Will be felt throughout the district for ever,’ Cal told her heavily. ‘I’m going out to the aboriginal settlement later this afternoon.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Now, where had that come from? She hadn’t meant to offer. It had just slipped out.

‘I’d like that,’ he said gravely, and she cast him a sideways look of suspicion.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t.’

‘Gina, you would help,’ he told her. ‘You’re good with people. You know what to say.’

‘So do you,’ she said bitterly. ‘The Dr Jamieson specialty. Picking up the pieces.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m not going there any more. But I will come to the settlement with you. I might as well be useful now I’m here. OK, Dr Jamieson. Let’s move on.’

Cal had patients booked to see him. He had to leave her-for which Gina was profoundly grateful. Sort of. With CJ happily carting junk and Cal disappearing, she was left on her own.

She spent a few minutes calming down and then went to find a pharmacist.

She wanted to see the baby but she had priorities of her own first.

The hospital dispensary was deserted. Open at need, she thought, and tried to figure who to ask. Not Cal. But as she turned away Charles was behind her in his wheelchair and she jumped almost a foot.

‘Do you mind?’ she asked breathlessly, and he grinned.

‘Sorry. I’ve tried to get a wheelchair that does footsteps but they don’t make them.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. My speciality’s scaring people. And I’m sorry about last night. Talk about throwing you in at the deep end…’

‘It was awful,’ she admitted. ‘But maybe less awful for me who doesn’t know the people and who won’t be round to cope with the consequences.’

‘Cal reminded me you used to run a kids’ group at Townsville.’

‘So I did,’ she told him.

‘You don’t fancy doing it again?’ he asked mildly. ‘There’s a screaming need here.’

‘Cal suggested that,’ she told him. ‘But he suggested I do it at Townsville.’

Charles’s face stilled. He looked at her for a long minute and then he grimaced.

‘Cal’s a fool.’

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘Not a fool. And I’m going home. There’s no place here for me.’

‘There’s always a place here for you,’ Charles told her forcibly. ‘Your reputation from Townsville was that of a splendid doctor and we’d be honoured to have you stay. Apart from really, really needing a cardiologist.’

‘And where does that leave Cal?’

‘Having to face what he should have faced five years ago,’ Charles told her.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. ‘Leave it, Charles.’

He looked up at her for a long minute-and then he sighed.

‘OK, We’ll leave it.’ He glanced up at her face once more and then through to the empty dispensary. ‘Were you looking for something?’

‘A pharmacist.’

‘We don’t have such a thing. We get what we need when we need it. Do you need something?’

‘Insulin.’

There was an even longer pause. ‘For you?’ he asked at last, and Gina thought, Yes, the man was fast. He’d have figured it couldn’t have been for CJ. She’d never have been able to leave him with strangers if it had been CJ.

‘Yes. For me.’

He frowned. ‘Does Cal know you’re diabetic?’

‘Cal doesn’t know the first thing about me,’ she told him. ‘But that’s irrelevant. I had my main supply of insulin in my second suitcase, which still seems to be lost. I carry enough for two or three days in my hand luggage but I’ll be needing more by tomorrow.’

‘I’ll organise it for you,’ he told her. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

‘An air ticket home?’

‘I’ll organise that, too,’ he told her, but then he hesitated. ‘Gina, can you give us another forty-eight hours? I’d like to have Lucky really out of the woods before you go.’

‘With Hamish and Emily, you hardly need me.’

‘I know I hardly need you,’ he growled. ‘But it’s the hardly I don’t like. I don’t want to lose this kid. And neither do you.’

‘No.’

‘So you’ll stay two more days?’

‘I guess.’ There was a lot to be sorted, she thought. She had to come to some arrangement with Cal by then. She had to figure out what sort of father he was prepared to be.

Then there was the added complication of Rudolph.

She sighed.

‘I do need another couple of nights,’ she told him.

‘A couple of years would be good.’

‘Don’t push it.’

Next on her list was Lucky. Gina walked into the nursery and found not one but two doctors clucking over him. Hamish was checking a drip and Em was consulting patient notes, but both of them looked up with such guilty starts as she walked in that she smiled.

‘Don’t tell me. Both of you should be somewhere else.’

‘We’re just looking,’ Hamish told her, and smiled. His smile was a bit forced, though, and Gina knew exactly what was happening. After a night like last night, there was a huge need for at least one happy ending and she had a feeling that she wasn’t the only one to have an urge to hug. Babies were excellent therapy. As if he was reading her thoughts, Hamish continued. ‘You’ve just missed Cal.’

‘And Charles before him,’ Emily said ruefully. ‘Anyone who’s anyone has been in to check on our little Lucky this morning.’ She moved aside. ‘Now it’s your turn. Go right ahead. Do your checking.’

She did.

He looked different today, Gina thought. A little…fuller? Yesterday he’d been barely alive. Now, even though he was still a tiny scrap of crumpled babyhood, Lucky’s eyes were wide, his tiny fists were flailing, and she had the strongest urge to pick him up and gather him to her.

She couldn’t. Hamish had him wired for everything-the technology surrounding this baby was far, far bulkier than the baby himself. It almost seemed ridiculous. So much technology on something so small.

Her hands slid into the incubator port and she stroked the little one’s cheek, and then she slid her little finger into the palm of the tiny hand. His fingers curled around and held, and Gina had to fight back a sudden, stupid surge of tears.

‘You don’t need me here,’ she said blindly, gently releasing her finger and starting to turn away.

But Hamish caught her shoulder and turned her back.

‘We do need you, Gina,’ he said softly. ‘You did a wonderful job here. I’ve only read of the operation you did on Lucky yesterday. I haven’t even seen it. I rang the paediatric cardiologist in Sydney this morning and he’s stunned it’s gone so well.’

‘That’s…good. I was lucky.’

‘Lucky was lucky,’ Hamish told her, and smiled. ‘And last night we were lucky to have you again. And Cal… Cal’s lucky that he met you.’

‘We think he loves you,’ Emily said, and Gina blinked.

‘Um…excuse me?’

‘He’s been faithful for years.’

‘Sure.’

‘He has.’

‘Because I’m an excuse.’

‘Yes, but you’re more than an excuse,’ Emily told her. ‘He really fell hard. Charles said-’

‘You’ve all been talking about me.’

‘It’s the doctors’ house,’ Hamish said, as if that explained everything. ‘We all talk about everyone. And we worry about Cal.’

‘He’s big enough to worry about himself.’

‘But if he had a son-’ Em started, but Gina had had enough.

‘Look, leave it,’ she said, more roughly than she’d intended, but Hamish looked at Emily as if for confirmation and then went in anyway.

‘Gina, you fought for Lucky,’ he said gently. ‘Emily and Charles and I think you should fight for Cal. He’s worth fighting for.’

‘I’ve been fighting for years,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m past fighting.’

‘But Cal-’

‘Sure, Cal’s had it hard,’ she snapped. ‘But I haven’t exactly had it easy. I’ve been fighting for my husband’s life, for my son’s welfare and for my own health.’ She caught herself and bit her lip, angry with herself more than them. These were Cal’s friends. Sure, they were interfering more than she liked-a lot more than she liked-but she wasn’t in familiar territory and what she should do now was back out.

So she backed out. Fast. Letting her eyes drop again to Lucky as she did.

He was so perfect.

‘I’m going out to the settlement with Cal,’ she said, and Emily smiled.

‘That’s great.’

‘It’s not great. But…keep Lucky safe for me while I’m away.’

‘We will, that,’ Hamish told her softly. ‘Of course we will. And in return, can we ask that you keep an open mind?’

‘An open mind and an open heart?’ she demanded, meeting his look head on. ‘Is that what you mean? If it is, I tried that five years ago and it didn’t work. What makes you think it’ll work now?’

Megan woke and for a moment she’d forgotten. She lay in her sweat-soaked bed and let herself stay blank. Just for a moment.

But then her mother was there, holding her hand, sitting on the bed, terror flooding her face.

‘Dad,’ Megan whispered. She was accustomed to that terror. ‘Something’s happened to Dad.’

But it seemed that the terror had been redirected. The terror was for her.

‘Sweetheart, we need to get you to a doctor,’ Honey was saying, and yesterday flooded back in all its horror. Megan cringed.

‘No.’

‘You’re ill. You’re soaking in sweat.’

‘I’ll get over it.’

‘Megan, you must let me take you-’

‘There’s no must about it,’ Megan told her, fighting for strength to sound sure. ‘OK, I’m ill, but I’ll get recover. Tell Dad I’ve got the flu. Don’t let him near me. Tell him he’ll catch it. I’m sorry, Mum, but you’ll have to do my chores…’

‘Oh, sweetheart…’

‘Just for a day or two,’ Megan mumbled. The effort she’d made saying just those words had been too much for her and she was wilting. ‘But you don’t want to tell Dad anything else. Do you?’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘There you go, then,’ Megan said wearily. To tell Jim was unthinkable. Protect him at all costs. ‘Leave it. Leave me be. I’ll be just…fine.’