The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way
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out violently.
She didn’t flinch, though faint colour tinged her cheeks. Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. ‘I offered. My choice. My reasons.’
Something in her tone warned him not to pursue the subject. Fine—he’d accept the simplified statement for now. Coming to terms with being uncle to an unborn child conceived by his dead sister and her husband, carried by a stranger, took precedence.
‘When’s the child due? Did they know?’ A myriad of questions buzzed in his brain, making it impossible to prioritise.
‘Late October. I’m nine weeks. We did a pregnancy test together.’ Her lips trembled. Her gaze shifted to the wall behind him. ‘They were so incredibly happy for a few days. Until that goods van smashed into them at that outdoor café.’
Her tortured eyes met his. Anguish ripped through him on hearing those mind-numbing words spoken in her tremulous voice. He knew. He’d received the international call, read the reports. Seen photographs of the mangled wreckage.
Suddenly he craved solitude. And space. He wanted to run from this woman, escape from her predicament. Forget everything and crawl into a cave like a wounded animal to lick his wounds and recover.
Not going to happen.
He ought to stay, talk more. Get more details. How could he? She exacerbated his torment.
Jamming the file into the folder, he stood up. Alina stayed in her seat, her eyes a mixture of sorrow and perplexity, making him feel like a louse. He pulled his mobile from his inside pocket.
‘I need time to take all this in. Give me your number. I’ll phone you tomorrow.’
She told him, including the Spanish code. ‘You can leave a message at Reception so you won’t get charged international rates.’
Ethan let out a short, half-choked laugh. She appeared genuinely concerned at the thought of him paying the fees—something his company did every day. ‘I can stand the cost.’
A soft blush coloured her cheeks. His gut twisted in remorse.
She rose to her feet, proudly defiant, tightly clasping her book. ‘I appreciate what a shock this is. If there’d been an easier way to tell you, I’d—’
‘There wasn’t. Goodbye, Ms Fletcher.’ He spun round and strode out.
The tension drained from Alina’s muscles, to be replaced by frightening awareness. Alien. Alarming. His aura still filled the room, surrounding her, challenging her resolve. Threatening what little stability she had.
She tried to equate this barely held together man with the sharp, on-the-ball tycoon described to her. The one who’d always managed to extricate the two friends from escapades usually instigated by the younger one. The one who’d transformed a failing local travel centre into the multimillion-dollar Starburst hotel and tourism empire.
The man she’d just watched hurriedly exit seemed to be operating on stretched nerves.
Pouring another cup of tea, she reproached herself for bringing more trauma into his life, but knew she’d had no choice. The realisation that she’d been banking on him taking charge, relieving her of all major decisions, hit home. She squeezed her eyes shut, stemming the tears. He hadn’t rebuffed her completely. There was still hope.
She pictured Louise sobbing in the café the day after the specialist had advised her that any more pregnancies might be detrimental to her health. She recalled walking her home, talking with her, learning about her society-obsessed parents’ rigid attitude to social status.
Her sympathy for Leon’s and Louise’s plight, and her strong desire to help had been understandable; the solution that had popped into her mind had been astounding. And terrifying.
After two days of intense soul-searching she’d offered to be a surrogate. Their initial refusal had given way to grateful acceptance in light of their limited options. Over a supper of fruit, cheese and dips, washed down with local wine, they’d conceived the perfect plan. Almost foolproof. They hadn’t counted on brake failure destroying their hopes in the cruellest way possible.
She stroked her stomach. Their baby—not hers. She was simply a cocoon. In October she’d have given birth to their son or daughter and then stepped away, allowing them to experience fully the delights and dramas of parenthood.
Ethan must consent to her plan. This tiny new life inside her deserved the love and happiness its new family would have shared. Ethan, rather than his parents, was her preferred choice. If they all chose not to... Well, then she’d have to confront and conquer her demons.
Gathering up her belongings, she went to her room, hoping the television would prevent her thoughts from straying to tomorrow’s call. And its maker.
* * *
She was window-shopping along George Street when her phone rang late the next morning.
‘Alina?’
Spoken with a slightly different emphasis, as if personal to him. Silly idea. He’d given her the impression he considered her an intrusive dilemma.
‘Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I’ve been juggling my schedule. Are you free tonight?’
‘Yes. I came to Sydney for the sole purpose of meeting you.’
‘And if I’d refused?’ he asked brusquely.
‘I’d have posted you a detailed letter with the file and caught the next available flight to Spain.’
‘And wha—? No, not now. A hire car will be outside your hotel at five-thirty. I’ve booked a table. Goodbye, Ms Fletcher.’
He hung up, leaving her startled by his broken-off question. Understanding his scepticism, she swore to be honest—though she’d keep her past to herself unless it concerned the baby. Last night as she’d fallen asleep she’d sensed an elusive unidentifiable memory skip through her mind. Didn’t want any more.
* * *
Ethan drummed his fingertips on his desk. He’d meant to ask why she wore a ring—if there was a husband or partner in the picture. He’d been distracted by her impassive replies and had accidentally activated an email from Brisbane requiring an urgent reply. Hence his regrettable abrupt ending to the call.
His back ached...his brain spun. An evening on the internet researching surrogacy had raised more questions than it had answered. It hurt that they’d gone through so much heartache alone. Why hadn’t they reached out to him? Surely they’d known they mattered to him more than anything?
He’d supported Louise’s marriage to Leon against his parents’ wishes, happily standing as best man. He had never doubted their love for each other, had admired their courage and steadfast defiance of the demands to wait until they were older. Louise’s declaration that they’d have a park wedding in front of a few friends had provoked his mother into grudging agreement. She had then proceeded to turn it into a flash affair for her own social gratification.
From what he’d seen, growing up, those two had been the exception in a world of duplicity and the façade of wedded unity. His own memories of being brushed aside, of days seeing only nannies or cooks, still rankled.
Knowing he carried the genes of two people with no apparent parental feelings had determined his future. Swearing there’d be no children, even if he married in the future, he’d resolved to be the best uncle to any nieces or nephews. Now that vow would be tested in a way he’d never imagined.
Lying awake, contemplating options, he’d finally decided on the best solution for the child and his family. It all depended on that gold ring. Alina Fletcher might not concur with his decision. She was the one who’d offered the use of her body, the one who’d travelled to Australia to meet him. The one who’d spun his world out of orbit with her revelation. She’d committed herself by contacting him.
He’d been disconcerted by his physical reaction to the stranger