A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle. Barbara Hannay
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are you flying back to the Bay?’
‘This afternoon.’
Gus placed his coffee cup carefully on its saucer and, with his mouth set in a grim line, he leaned forward, arms folded, elbows on the table.
To Freya, the pose made his shoulders look incredibly wide and somehow threatening.
‘I’d like to come too,’ he said.
Thud. This was so not something she’d bargained for. Not today. Not so soon.
‘I’m sure you understand that I want to meet my son.’ Gus spoke with the quiet but no-nonsense determination he probably used to push aid projects past obstructionist Third World governments.
‘You mean you’d like to fly back to the Bay today?’
‘Yes…Why not?’
We’re not ready. I’m not ready. ‘I…I thought you were in the middle of a very important building project.’
‘I am, but there’s a window of opportunity. The designs are finished, the materials have been ordered and there’s another engineer supervising the foundations. So I phoned the site and the elders are happy to shoulder more responsibility for a limited time.’
‘Oh, I…see.’
Freya had known from the start that eventually Gus would want to meet Nick, and their meeting would be emotional and wonderful—but terribly complicated. She hadn’t dreamed, though, that Gus would want to come back to the Bay with her straight away. She needed time to prepare Nick, to warn him.
She couldn’t help remembering her own brief encounter four years ago with her male parent—she shied away from thinking of Sean Hickey as her father… Meeting him hadn’t been worth it. Nick had learned then, at the age of seven, that happy reunions were also potential disasters.
Gus would be different, almost certainly. But so soon?
Freya found herself grasping at straws. ‘There probably won’t be any plane seats available at such late notice.’
‘There are seats.’ A faint smile played on Gus’s face, making attractive creases around his eyes.
‘You’ve already checked?’
He pulled a very smart state-of-the-art phone from his pocket.
‘I suppose that has Internet connection,’ she said faintly.
‘Yes. It’s so easy.’
In other words, Gus was five steps ahead of her.
‘Well…that’s…wonderful.’ Freya forced enthusiasm into her voice. Which, in all honesty, wasn’t so terribly difficult. There had been a time when this possibility had been her secret dream, and she’d longed for Gus Wilder to come back to the Bay. The only problem was that in her fantasy he’d claimed her as well as Nick. He’d been incredibly understanding and considerate, and her secret hadn’t been an issue between them.
In her fantasy, Gus had fallen in love with her again and he’d adored Nick and in no time they’d been married and formed a perfect little family.
How pathetic that dream seemed now. Thank heavens she’d come to her senses.
Gus was frowning. ‘You don’t object to my seeing the boy, do you?’
‘No-o-o, of course not.’ Not in theory.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. ‘But you look worried. Is there a problem?’
Freya shook her head. ‘No. No problem. Not if we’re careful.’
‘I want to help Nick any way I can, Freya.’ He watched her for another beat or two, then said quietly, ‘I promise I won’t rush in and do anything rash.’
Yes. She would make sure of that.
Chapter Four
IT WAS mid-afternoon when they landed at Dirranvale, a short distance inland from Sugar Bay. After collecting Freya’s car from the airport’s overnight car park, they drove to the coast along a road that wound through tall fields of sugar cane.
Everything was exactly as Gus remembered—the gentle undulating countryside, the rich red soil, the endless sea of feathery mauve plumes on top of the waving stalks of cane. He was caught by an unexpected slug of nostalgia.
He remembered the first time he’d made this journey at the age of sixteen, slouched beside his sister in the back of his parents’ station wagon. Back then, they were both furious about their father’s transfer to the Bay, hating that he’d dragged them away from their city school and their friends.
They’d sulked and squabbled throughout the entire journey from Brisbane…until they’d crested the last rise…and the Bay had lain before them in all its singular, perfect beauty.
Remembering his first sight of the beach town that had been his home for two magical years, Gus felt a ripple of excitement. His nostrils twitched, already anticipating the briny scent of the sea and the tang of sunscreen. He could almost feel the sand, soft and warm under his feet, and the sun’s burning heat on his bare shoulders.
He could practically hear the rolling thump and rush of the surf and, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself remembering the out-of-this-world thrill of riding a board down the glassy face of a breaking wave.
He’d loved this place. Why on earth had he taken so long to come back?
He turned to Freya. ‘I bet Nick loves living here.’
‘Oh, he does. No doubt about that.’
Most of her face was hidden by sunglasses, but Gus saw the awkward pucker of her mouth and he knew she was nervous, possibly even more nervous than he was.
They hadn’t talked much on the plane, mainly because a nosy middle-aged woman who’d sat next to them had tried to join in every conversation.
He’d learned, however, that Nick was staying at Poppy’s place while Freya was away, but that Freya and the boy normally lived in a flat attached to an art gallery. They’d agreed that Gus would stay at the Sugar Bay Hotel.
‘I suppose you’ve warned Poppy to expect me?’ he asked.
‘Actually, no,’ Freya said, surprising him. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’ She chewed at her lip.
‘Is there a reason you haven’t told her? Does she still have a problem with me?’
Not quite smiling, Freya shook her head. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself. She wouldn’t have been able to keep the news to herself. She might have told Nick about you, and got him all worked up.’
It was understandable, Gus supposed, given how restless and on edge he’d felt ever since he’d learned about his son. ‘So how do you want to handle this? Will I go straight to the hotel and wait to be summoned?’
They’d come to a junction in the road and Freya concentrated on giving right of way to oncoming traffic before she turned.
When this was accomplished, she answered Gus’s question. ‘Nick’s playing football this afternoon and I thought it might be a good idea if you went to the game.’ Quickly she added, ‘It would be a more relaxed atmosphere.’
At first Gus was too surprised to speak. All day he’d been trying to imagine meeting his son, and he’d always pictured an awkward introduction indoors with Poppy and Freya hovering anxiously over the whole proceedings. A football match was the last thing he’d expected, but the idea of meeting Nick at a relaxed social event appealed.
‘That’s smart thinking,’ he told her. ‘What kind of football does Nick play?’
‘Rugby league.’
Gus swallowed against the rapid constriction