A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle. Barbara Hannay
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that’s a relief.’ Gus chuckled. ‘So you’re determined to save her bacon. Does that mean you’re keen on her?’
‘No way.’ The boy went bright pink.
‘All right, then. I won’t say a word.’
From somewhere in the distance came the ringing of a bell.
‘Oh-oh.’ Nick scrambled to his feet and scooped up his bag.
‘You’re going to be late for school.’
‘Yeah. I’d better go.’
‘You’d better run,’ Gus said. ‘But be careful crossing the road, won’t you?’
‘Course.’
‘Thanks for the advice about the vampire.’
‘Good luck!’ Nick flashed a final quick grin, and Gus watched the boy dashing across the grass beneath the pines, dark hair lifting in the breeze, school bag bumping against his hip, and he felt, for a fleeting moment, as if he’d known his son all his life.
Then reality returned like a fist in his guts. He’d been deprived of this fabulous feeling, deprived for the past eleven and a half years.
Freya’s concentration was shot to pieces. Gus had phoned to say that he’d hired a car and was driving to Dirranvale for blood tests, X-rays and scans and, although she went through the motions of her normal everyday activities—opening the gallery, smiling at visitors who wandered in, checking mail, answering phone calls—her mind was at the hospital.
She’d been there so many times with Nick and she could picture exactly what Gus was going through—sitting patiently, or perhaps impatiently, on those hard metal seats outside X-ray, then having to change into one of the awful gaping hospital gowns. Afterwards, going on to Pathology to be stuck with needles.
The thought kept her dancing on a knife-edge between hope and fear. This morning, Nick had been so excited, so certain that his dad would save him. He had all his faith pinned on this. And of course she was hoping too…
Even though Nick wasn’t in immediate danger, he was on a national waiting list and they’d been assured there would be a donor match out there, but she knew they all, including Gus, wanted him to be the one who gave.
The tissue match had to be perfect, however, so wasn’t it foolish to build up too much hope?
She must have whispered good luck to Gus at least a thousand times this morning.
When she wasn’t doing that, she was thinking about last night and the way Gus had held her wrist and looked at her…She kept seeing the dark shimmer of emotion in his eyes…
The memory filled her head and how crazy was that, to be obsessed by such a teensy, short-lived moment?
It was nothing.
No.
It was something. There’d definitely been something happening when Gus had touched her skin…intensity in his face that couldn’t be ignored. He’d looked that way all those years ago…on so many occasions during their perfect summer.
Thinking about that summer, Freya found herself drawn into a web of memories…beginning with the first time Gus had asked her out, when he invited her to be his partner at their senior formal.
She could recall every detail of that afternoon in their last year of high school…
Wednesdays always finished with double history, one of the few classes Freya shared with Gus. And on that particular mid-week afternoon he spoke to her just outside the school gate.
Her heart started a drum roll the minute she saw him standing there and realised he was waiting for her.
She’d been hopelessly smitten from the day Gus arrived at their school two years earlier, but she’d been quite stupidly shy around him and, as Gus had been rather shy too, they’d hardly spoken.
Oh, there’d been a little flirting…and a lot of smiling…but he’d been caught up with his surfing, his football and his studies, and he’d never asked her out on a date. As far as Freya knew, Gus hadn’t taken any girl out and there were plenty of girls who’d been hoping.
But, on that special afternoon, he approached her with endearing nervousness.
‘Hey, Freya?’
‘Hey.’ She’d tried to sound casual, as if this wasn’t a big deal, like maybe the biggest deal of her life to date…
‘I was wondering…if you have a partner for the formal.’
‘Um…no, I haven’t.’ Oh, God. Her knees were shaking. ‘Not yet.’
Mel Crane shuffled past and sent them a goofy grin.
Gus scowled at him, then offered Freya a shy tilted smile. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’
‘Um.’ Her tongue was suddenly paralysed. Speak, simpleton! ‘Yes,’ she managed at last.
‘Yes?’ Seemed he was about as inarticulate as she was. Why did he look so disbelieving? As if she wouldn’t jump at the chance? His shock gave her courage.
‘Yes, Gus, I’d really like to go to the formal with you.’
‘Sweet.’ He was smiling properly now, smiling fully at her in a way that was a little short of dazzling. ‘Terrific. I don’t know any details yet, about what time I’ll pick you up or anything.’
‘That’s OK. There’s no rush.’ She smiled at him bravely. ‘Thanks, Gus.’
He walked with her then for three blocks, and she wasn’t sure that her feet were touching the ground. They talked about their history teacher, about their friends, about surfing…
When they reached The Esplanade they said goodbye. Their houses were at opposite ends of the Bay.
Oh, man. Freya rushed home to Poppy, bursting with excitement.
And, immediately, she met her first hurdle.
Poppy didn’t like the idea of her only daughter going out with a football jock. Weren’t they all smart-mouthed thugs? Wasn’t there a nice boy Freya could go with? Someone more artistic and sensitive?
Naturally, Freya insisted that Gus was nice. He wasn’t just good at football; he was practically top of their class. He was lovely, and she was going with him or with no one.
When Poppy finally, but unhappily, acquiesced, they moved on to the Battle of The Dress.
‘I can do wonderful things with a sewing machine and a bucket of dye,’ Poppy suggested.
Freya was beyond horrified. She loved her mum, but she flatly refused to go to the formal dressed like a tie-dyed hippie.
‘All the other girls are getting their dresses from Mimi’s in Dirranvale. Phoebe’s mother’s even taking her to Brisbane to buy her dress.’
‘That girl’s mother never had any sense,’ Poppy muttered darkly. ‘And you know we can’t afford so much as a handkerchief from one of those fancy salons.’
‘That’s OK. I’ll earn all the money I need.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll sell aromatherapy candles at the markets.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. She’d gone through her ‘market phase’, as she called it. She’d sold handmade soaps and candles and jewellery and she’d made quite good money, but she hated the long hours of constant toil that were required to replenish her stocks week after week, and she’d opted for a part-time job caring for seedlings at a local plant nursery instead.
Freya, however, was determined. She went with her best friend Jane and Jane’s mother to Mimi’s in Dirranvale and she fell in love with a most divine off-the-shoulder