Australia: Handsome Heroes: His Secret Love-Child. Lilian Darcy
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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