His Secret Love-Child Read online

‘I married Paul when I was eighteen,’ she told him, and there was a blankness about her voice now that hadn’t been there before. ‘He was the boy next door, the kid I’d grown up with. We decided to marry when we were twelve. We went through med school together, we were best of friends-and then suddenly he just seemed to fall apart. There’d been huge pressure on him from his parents to become a doctor. To marry. To be successful in their eyes. Maybe I was stupid for not seeing how much pressure he was under.’

  ‘You weren’t sympathetic toward him when you were here,’ he said, and she nodded.

  ‘No. I was young and I was hurt. We’d made it as doctors, we had the world at our feet and suddenly he didn’t want any part of our life together. He wanted to find himself, he said, and off he went. And to be honest it wasn’t until I decided to come here…until I met you…that I realised that he was right. We’d been kids, playing at being grown-ups. We’d married for the wrong reasons.’

  ‘So?’ He wasn’t going to get sucked into the emotional bit here, he thought. He couldn’t afford to.

  ‘So then I fell for you,’ she said softly. ‘And I got pregnant.’

  He closed his eyes, trying to think back to all that time ago. But it didn’t make sense. He’d never been stupid. He of all people knew the risks. ‘How can you have got pregnant? We took precautions.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m lying?’ Anger flashed out then, bordering on fury. ‘Do you think I planned the pregnancy?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘Well, think what you like,’ she snapped. ‘But I didn’t plan it. I was on the Pill. I knew how much you didn’t want children, and I was hardly in a position to want them either. So we were careful. But I guess there’s truth in the saying that the only sure contraceptive is two brick walls with air space between. Whatever we used didn’t work. Anyway, I couldn’t believe it. I discovered I was pregnant when you were upcountry on a medical evacuation flight. You were gone. I was down in Townsville, staring at a positive pregnancy test. Thinking I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t.’

  His eyes opened at that and he met her look head on. Challenging. ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘What would you have said?’ she whispered. ‘Be honest, Cal. How would you have reacted?’

  ‘How do I know?’

  ‘Well, I know,’ she said drearily. ‘You’d said it over and over to me. You didn’t want family. Your family life was the pits. You never wanted commitment. Sure, what we had was special and we both knew it, but it wasn’t enough to make you want marriage. Or children. The thought appalled you. You said it over and over. It was like a warning. Love me despite it-and I did. I was willing to accept you on your terms. But then I fell pregnant. I sat there staring at the test strip and I thought, I can’t get rid of this baby. Maybe I did my growing up right there. I wanted this baby. I wanted our baby.’

  He shook his head, bewildered. ‘Gina, if I’d known-’

  ‘You might even have done the honourable thing,’ she said heavily. ‘I knew that. But honour wasn’t what I wanted from you, Cal, and you were capable of offering nothing more.’

  ‘I might have-’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I knew your background, you see, though I heard much of it from others. Not from you.’

  ‘My background has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘It has everything, Cal,’ she said heavily. ‘If I don’t accept it, at least I can understand. Your mother walked out on you when you were still a kid yourself, trapping you into caring for your two little sisters. Your father was a drunk. You had to leave school to support everyone and then, just as your sisters started being independent, your mother reappeared and offered your sisters a home in the States with her new man. But not you. After all you’d done, they left you without a backward glance. Your dad died and you had to regroup and work your butt off to get yourself through medical school. You learned in the hardest way to be independent. Do you think I was going to trap you again?’

  ‘Hell…’

  ‘It was hell,’ she whispered. ‘For both of us. For different reasons.’

  ‘So you just ran.’

  ‘Strangely, I didn’t,’ she told him, and her chin jutted, just a little. Finding her feet again. This part of the story was easier. ‘While I was trying to sort some sense out of the mess the phone rang and it was Paul’s mother. It was…as if it was meant. It was horrible but it was real. She rang to tell me that Paul had been injured-dreadfully injured-in a motorbike accident in Kathmandu. She was distraught. She couldn’t go herself. Could I go? she asked. She pleaded. There was no one else. I had medical training and that was what Paul desperately needed. Family and western medicine. So…’ She paused and stared blankly out over the sea. ‘So I just went.’

  He stared at her, still disbelieving. ‘Without waiting for me to get back?’

  ‘You were gone for two days. Paul’s mother thought he was dying. I had to move fast. As it was, I only just got there in time. I found him in a tiny village outside the capital and he was dreadfully injured. From then on the drama of the situation just took over. Getting him stabilised. He’d smashed his spine, and the convolutions to evacuate him back to the States took weeks. And then…by the time I’d caught my breath, somehow I was three months pregnant and I was back to being Paul’s wife again.’

  ‘That was what your note said,’ he said heavily, remembering. ‘That Paul had been injured and you were still his wife and you were staying with him. That your marriage had resumed.’

  ‘I didn’t lie.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I guess you didn’t.’

  There was a long silence then. There wasn’t tension here. It was as if the world had somehow paused and was regrouping.

  But finally the questions started again.

  ‘How badly was Paul hurt?’

  That was easy. ‘Break at C1/2. Complete quadriplegia. No function below the neck and barely speech,’ she told him. ‘No unaided respiration. The guy he crashed into had basic medical training so they were able to establish an air supply. Maybe that was a good thing. Sometimes I don’t know. But Paul had almost five years of life before the infections became too frequent and his body shut down.’

  ‘You don’t think,’ Cal said carefully into the stillness, ‘that it might have been fair to tell me this?’

  ‘What? That I still loved you but I’d decided I needed to stay with Paul? How could I tell you that? It wasn’t even fair. If I had to stay with Paul, what was the use of telling you I loved you? Besides,’ she said softly into the stillness, ‘you knew that I loved you. I’d told you that over and over. But you’d never said it back to me. Not once, Cal. Not ever.’

  ‘I…’ He paused and she shrugged, moving on.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told him. ‘Not now. And it couldn’t matter then. Cal, Paul had no one except his elderly mother who was incapacitated herself. He needed me so much. And when CJ was born…’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I can’t understand,’ he snapped. ‘How he accepted another man’s son.’

  ‘CJ gave him pleasure,’ she told him. ‘Huge pleasure. You know, when Paul learned I was pregnant he didn’t even ask who the father was. I said I’d had a love affair that hadn’t worked out and he didn’t want to know more. But the pregnancy itself made him…joyful. It was as if something good had come from the mess he’d created. For the few years left of his life, CJ was the centre of Paul’s life. And Paul had been my friend for ever. I couldn’t take that away from him.’

  ‘You took it away from me.’

  Her eyes flashed at that. ‘You didn’t want it,’ she said, steadily now, as if she was on ground she was sure of. ‘When I found out that I was pregnant I was appalled. I knew you didn’t want a child. I knew you didn’t want a family. Am I right, Cal?’

  Was she right?

  He stared at her and he couldn’t answer.

  Of course he didn’t want kids. He never had. Damn, with his family, how could he? Kids we
re a disaster. Commitment was a disaster.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said-grudgingly-and she winced and hauled herself to her feet.

  ‘There you go, then. So I kept my son where at least someone wanted him. Paul was his daddy, and Paul loved him more than life itself.’

  ‘And you,’ he said softly. ‘Did you love Paul?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Cal,’ she said heavily. ‘To ask a question like that… Don’t be so daft.’

  He stared at her, wondering where to go from here. Where…

  ‘Here are the cookies! I have cookies.’ There was a triumphant stage whisper from behind them. The glider was flying cautiously back through the screen door, bearing two glasses of water and four choc-chip cookies, all balanced precariously on a plastic tray.

  ‘Bruce is in the kitchen,’ CJ told them in satisfaction, handing over his burden with care. ‘He says he’s really pleased to see us and can he take us out to dinner?’

  ‘Bruce?’ He was almost grateful for the interruption, Cal decided. For something else to focus on. Emotions were threatening to overwhelm him.

  ‘It’ll be Bruce Hammond,’ Gina told him. ‘We met Bruce while we were staying here. He took us on a crocodile hunt but we didn’t find any.’

  ‘We did,’ CJ retorted. ‘It was only the grown-ups who said it was a log.’

  ‘You were staying here?’ Cal asked, dazed. How could they have been staying here? This wasn’t making sense.

  ‘We’ve been staying at the Athina Hotel for the last three days,’ she told him. ‘Just near here. When Paul died, I thought…well, I thought that maybe you had the right to know about CJ. So we came to see you. But on the night we arrived you were out here on the veranda with-Emily, isn’t it? I thought…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘It just seemed like such an imposition after all these years.’

  ‘It is an imposition,’ he muttered, and his voice was almost savage.

  She nodded, as if she’d expected nothing less. ‘So I decided to go again.’

  ‘Without seeing me?’

  ‘You didn’t want this, Cal,’ she told him, lifting her chin again and meeting his look full on. ‘I always knew what you thought of family. Anyway, Bruce was nice to us. He wanted us to go out with him again and try to find more crocodiles, but I said we were leaving town. I guess he’s heard we’re back.’ She took a deep breath, moving on, and glanced at her watch. ‘I guess we could go out for a quick dinner with Bruce.’

  ‘There’s dinner here,’ Cal growled. ‘And you might be needed for the baby.’

  ‘I won’t go far,’ she said, steadily, as if she was fighting to keep control on her temper. ‘I imagine there’s a cellphone I can borrow.’

  ‘Bruce says he knows where crocodiles really love to be,’ CJ told her, and she managed a smile.

  ‘No crocodiles tonight, CJ. I think we’ve had enough adventure. But Bruce will tell you about them.’ She turned again to Cal. ‘Cal, I’m sorry to land this on you. I never meant to. I never wanted… But, anyway, now you know. I won’t be an imposition. I won’t make any demands. We’ll stay until the baby doesn’t need us any more. We certainly won’t interfere with what’s between you and Emily, and then we’ll go.’

  She hesitated, and then, as if determined to do something that she wasn’t sure would be welcomed, she suddenly leaned forward. She kissed him lightly, a feather kiss, fleetingly on the lips, and then she backed off. Fast.

  ‘I’ve owed you that for a long time,’ she whispered. ‘Regardless of what’s been between us in the past. This is what I need to say. Thank you for my son, Cal. CJ’s been the only thing that’s stood between me and madness for the past few years. For both Paul and me. I love CJ so much and Paul did, too. I hope you’ve found that loving with Emily. Believe me, I’m not here to interfere. If you’ve found your true home… I won’t put that in jeopardy for anything.’

  And before he could reply-before he could even think about replying-she’d risen and taken CJ’s hand, and turned and walked inside.

  Leaving him staring after her. With two glasses of water and four truly excellent choc-chip cookies.

  By the time Cal left the veranda it was all over the hospital. Cal had a son. Cal’s son and Cal’s ex-girlfriend had gone out to dinner with the local crocodile hunter. Everyone wanted to know more.

  Cal tried for a little privacy at dinner by glowering at everyone who asked questions-but that created even more questions.

  At least Gina wasn’t there. She’d spent time with Emily, stabilising the baby. Then she and CJ had disappeared with Bruce, and watching them go had made Cal glower even more. Em had found her a cellphone. Bruce promised to have her back here in minutes if was needed.

  But he still glowered. His friends prodded and laughed and then finally they backed off, realising that information wasn’t going to be forthcoming. But he knew the questions were still there.

  He had unanswered questions himself.

  After dinner he headed back to the veranda, looking for some peace. He had medico-legal paperwork to do but it held no attraction. It was eight o’clock and then eight-thirty. They should be back, he thought, and tried not to look up every time a car approached.

  Finally he gave up car-watching and headed next door to the hospital. Surely there was something that needed doing. Something that could distract him. Where was work when you needed it most? These last few days had been crazy.

  Now there was nothing. Even the baby didn’t need him. They’d decided to keep a doctor within arm’s reach and Em was taking first shift.

  But still he visited the nursery. This little one was so small. Things could go either way here, Cal thought, jolted out of his preoccupation with the personal by the sight of their tiny patient. The baby was hooked to tubes everywhere. He was the fragile centre of a huge spiderweb of technology and all of it might not be enough to save him.

  They’d discussed again the idea of sending for the neonatal evacuation team to take him to a specialist facility, but Em wasn’t happy with the idea. Gina had concurred and the paediatrician in Brisbane had agreed. There was nothing a specialist facility could do that wasn’t being done here, and the flight itself would be a risk.

  As Cal entered the nursery Em looked up from checking the oxygen level and managed a faint smile.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi, yourself. How’s he doing?’

  ‘Holding on. It’s all we can hope for. We’re calling him Lucky, because he’s lucky to be alive.’ She hesitated. ‘And maybe because he needs still more luck.’

  Cal grimaced. He reached in to touch the soft skin of the baby’s tiny face and felt his gut twist in sympathy for this fragile little life.

  ‘You live, Lucky,’ he told him gruffly.

  He had to.

  ‘Is there any news of the mother?’ Em asked.

  ‘There’s a search party scouring the bushland around the rodeo grounds, but there’s nothing. The current thinking is that whoever it was left with the crowd.’

  She flicked a glance up at him. ‘And left her son.’

  ‘She probably thought he was dead. He was so flat… He may well have appeared dead to someone who had no med training. Someone who was distressed and desperately ill herself.’

  She nodded bleakly and then turned her attention back to the baby. ‘He almost was dead,’ she whispered. ‘He came so close. Oh, Lucky. If not for Gina. And now… Another little boy.’

  ‘Em…’ He knew where she was going. The way he said her name was a growl, meant to deflect her, but it didn’t work.

  ‘Did you know you had a child?’

  ‘No. Em, I-’

  ‘I can’t believe you have a son,’ she told him, and Cal hesitated. And then he shrugged. This was Emily. His friend. He knew from long experience it was no use to try and deflect her, so why not vent a little spleen? He surely had spleen to be vented.

  ‘If you can’t believe it, imagine how I feel!’ he demanded, but he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. He expected in
dignation on his behalf-that was what he wanted. Even sympathy. Instead, Emily had the temerity to smile.

  ‘Yep, I can see how it might leave you flabbergasted. A child out of left field. Does she want child support?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then why has she come?’

  ‘She just thought I had the right to know.’

  ‘After all these years? Why not sooner?’

  ‘She’s been married,’ Cal told her. ‘She was married when I knew her. She got pregnant and went back to her husband.’

  ‘Whew.’ Em whistled, then lifted the drug sheet beside the crib and studied it. Giving him a bit of personal space. ‘That’s heavy stuff,’ she commented. ‘Did you know she was married?’

  ‘Yes, but I thought it was over.’

  ‘But it wasn’t.’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘So what’s happened now to make things different? Marriage break up?’

  ‘Her husband’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Quadriplegia. Complications.’

  She winced. ‘Oh, Cal, that’s really tough.’

  Tough? He didn’t want to think about tough, he thought bitterly. He didn’t want to think about what Gina must have gone through over the last few years.

  He didn’t want to think about Gina.

  ‘Did she use you to get pregnant?’ Em asked, adjusting the drip stand so she could get a clearer view of the baby’s tiny face. ‘Because her husband was a quad?’

  ‘No!’ It was his turn to wince. OK, that was what he’d thought initially, but somehow…that someone else should think that of Gina was unbearable. ‘He was injured just after she discovered she was pregnant.’

  ‘Ouch.’ She flicked another glance up at him and then looked away. ‘So that’s why the loyalty. That’s why she went back to him.’

  ‘Em, could we leave this?’

  She looked at him steadily then, her intelligent eyes turning thoughtful. ‘Maybe we can and maybe we can’t. So now her husband’s dead and she comes back-’

  ‘Em…’

  ‘It puts a different complexion on things,’ she said, unperturbed. ‘I always wondered how the guy would feel in such a situation. To be unexpectedly a full-fledged dad. And for Gina to front you now… It’d be so hard. But maybe she’s right.’ She cocked her head to one side, considering. ‘I wonder. Even if you’d done this via a sperm bank, maybe there’s a moral obligation to tell you that your sperm’s successful? That’s there’s a kid out there in your image?’