The Husband She'd Never Met Read online

  * * *

  It was a chilly, windy day when Max arrived in Sydney. The late autumn skies were bleak and grey, and leaves blew along footpaths and piled in gutters. Dressed in a charcoal knitted sweater and jeans, Max was feeling almost as grim as the weather when he knocked on his mother-in-law’s front door.

  The panelled door was painted in full-gloss black, with a copper-gold doorknob, and two perfectly trimmed topiary trees in grey stone pots were positioned on either side of the formal entrance. It was a stark contrast to the straggling purple bougainvillea that climbed over the timber trellis and railing on his homestead’s front veranda.

  The doorbell, when Max pressed it, sent a musical cascade rippling into the depths of the apartment. He braced himself when he heard footsteps, wondering if it would be Carrie or Sylvia who opened the door.

  ‘Max!’ His mother-in-law looked startled. ‘Good heavens.’ She touched a perfectly manicured hand to her perfectly groomed silver hair. ‘What are you doing down here? Are you looking for Carrie?’

  A brilliant deduction, he thought, unable to throw off the cynicism that always coloured the way he viewed Carrie’s mother. But he spoke as pleasantly as he could. ‘That’s right, Sylvia. How are you?’

  ‘Oh...’ Nervously, she pulled the two sides of her navy blue cardigan into line. ‘I’m well, thank you. Recovered, but still on medication.’

  ‘You’re looking well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said faintly. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t help you if you’re looking for Carrie.’

  Max frowned. ‘What do you mean? Isn’t she here? Staying with you?’

  ‘She was here. She was here for several weeks, actually, looking after me when I came home from hospital. But I’m quite well now, and Carrie decided to move out and get a place of her own. A nice little flat like she had—before—’

  ‘Before we were married,’ Max finished for her, forcing the words past the rock of pain in his throat.

  ‘Yes.’ Sylvia had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  Dismay poured through Max, as chilling as icy rain. This news was worse than he’d feared. ‘So Carrie must be staying somewhere new,’ he said. ‘I assume she’s been in touch?’

  ‘Not for several days.’ Sylvia stood for a moment with her hand on the doorknob, regarding Max with a worried frown. ‘I must admit I’m concerned about her,’ she said. ‘I knew she was upset about the marriage break-up, but I thought she would start to pick up after a week or two. Instead, she seemed to get worse.’

  Twin reactions of alarm and hope held Max on a knife-edge. ‘Sylvia, may I come in? I think we need to talk.’

  With an unhappy nod she stepped back to let him through the doorway. He followed her down the carpeted hallway to her lounge room—a rather charming but decidedly feminine room, with delicate antique furniture upholstered in brocade and vases of flowers and china ornaments on every available surface.

  Max had only ever been in here a couple of times, and he remembered how uneasy he’d always felt—as if he was too big and boisterous and might break something.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Sylvia said, offering him an armchair which at least looked sturdy enough to hold him.

  Max sat with his back straight and his legs carefully crossed.

  ‘Would you like tea?’ Sylvia asked.

  ‘No, thanks.’ He was too anxious to hear about Carrie. ‘Sylvia, I have to apologise,’ he said next, preferring to be clear about his position from the outset. ‘I made a hash of things when I was down here in Sydney. Carrie probably told you about our argument. I’m afraid I was angry and I overreacted. I went back to Riverslea without saying goodbye.’

  His mother-in-law’s jaw dropped and she looked completely puzzled, as if she hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘When were you down here in Sydney?’

  ‘I brought Carrie straight down here as soon as we heard about your heart attack,’ he said.

  Sylvia continued to look puzzled. ‘You came, too? How strange... She never mentioned that.’

  This was not a good sign. Max supposed he couldn’t blame Carrie. Why should she admit that he’d turned around and abandoned her within hours of arriving here?

  ‘Carrie was leaving you, wasn’t she?’ Sylvia asked next, with her typical bluntness.

  Max nodded grimly. ‘That was certainly her plan before she fell off that horse and forgot that she’d ever met me.’

  His mother-in-law’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, that’s when everything went wrong.’

  On the contrary, thought Max, remembering how those few days of Carrie’s amnesia had delivered him back his loving wife. He’d come within a hair’s breadth of restoring his happy marriage before he’d stupidly let it slip away again.

  He swallowed nervously, tapped his fingers on the gold and cream brocade arm of his chair. ‘Sylvia, I’m assuming Carrie’s told you that she can’t have children?’

  The woman looked so suddenly stupefied Max was worried she’d have another heart attack.

  ‘I didn’t mean to shock you,’ he said.

  ‘I’m all right.’ But Sylvia had lost her usual poise and confidence. She seemed to shrink before his very eyes. ‘Can she really not have children?’ she asked, in a small frightened voice.

  ‘No, I’m afraid she can’t.’ Max spoke gently now. It was bad enough that Carrie had never talked to him about this, but he was stunned that she hadn’t confided in her mother. ‘There’s a problem with her uterus. A malformation.’

  ‘Oh, my poor baby.’ For the first time since Max had known Sylvia Barnes she looked shrunken and old.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was sure Carrie would have talked to you about it.’

  ‘You would think so, wouldn’t you?’ She pressed three fingers to her quivering lips and drew a sharp breath, as if she was struggling not to cry. Then she shook her head sadly. ‘I’m beginning to think there must be a great deal that I don’t know.’

  Max had not expected to feel sorry for his mother-in-law, but he understood the shock and pain she was fielding. At this moment he almost felt as if he and The Dragon were on the same side. They both loved Carrie deeply, and they were both desperately hurt that she’d rejected them when she’d needed them most.

  With admirable dignity, Sylvia rose from her chair. ‘Why don’t you come into the kitchen, Max? I’m afraid I need that cup of tea, after all. And while I’m making it you can talk to me about my daughter.’

  So Max gave her his version of events over recent months at Riverslea. To his surprise, he wasn’t interrupted. Sylvia looked chastened as she listened. The news of Carrie’s infertility and the fact that it was a condition her daughter had been born with seemed to have shaken her certainty, her belief that her way was the highway.

  ‘I must admit,’ she said as she poured him a second cup of tea, ‘I just assumed Carrie was following in my footsteps when she began to fall out of love with Riverslea Downs. She had been so stubborn about wanting to marry you and wanting to live in the Outback. I suppose I’d been expecting her to come to her senses and realise her mistake. When it happened I felt as if my misgivings were totally justified.’

  ‘Carrie was very convincing,’ Max agreed.

  ‘She had me as a role model,’ Sylvia admitted, somewhat guiltily. ‘But I can’t believe she decided that she had to leave you because she couldn’t give you a child—’ Fresh tears shone in her eyes and she gave a sad shake of her head. ‘The poor girl can’t have been thinking straight.’

  ‘No,’ Max agreed. ‘I don’t think she was. She was trying to carry the whole burden on her own, when it should have been a problem we shared.’

  ‘Yes... I suspect Carrie would benefit from some kind of counselling. You probably both would.’

  Max knew she was right. He wasn’t
keen on the idea of counselling—for him, seeking that kind of outside help went against the grain...he liked to think he was quite capable of sorting out his own affairs. But he would do anything to help Carrie, to salvage their marriage.

  ‘I came to Sydney to find Carrie, to do whatever’s necessary,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Sylvia looked thoughtful. She drew a long breath and let it out slowly. ‘I must confess I did lie to you before. I do know where Carrie’s staying.’

  ‘That’s fan—’

  She cut off his relieved response with a sharply raised hand. ‘But I’m sorry, Max,’ she said quickly. ‘At the moment I don’t know whether Carrie wants to see you, so I can’t just hand over her address.’

  Fortunately Max cut off the swear word that had sprung to his lips. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ he said instead. ‘Carrie’s my wife. I love her.’

  He and his mother-in-law had come a long way today. By a minor miracle they’d reached a kind of understanding bordering on respect—something Max had never thought possible. But right now he felt a surge of the old frustration. Would Sylvia never be able to trust him?

  ‘It’s not the end of the world,’ she said now, and her smile was not unsympathetic. ‘You have Carrie’s phone number.’

  ‘Yes. Not that she’s answering.’

  ‘Well, I’ll let her know that you’re here in Sydney and that you’d like to see her. If she wants to speak to you she’ll get in touch. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it is.’ He suppressed a sigh.

  * * *

  Two days later, however—the longest days of Max’s life—Max still hadn’t heard from Carrie. He was at his wits’ end. Short of hiring a private detective, there was little he could do but wait. But common sense told him that if his wife was going to get in touch she would have done so by now.

  After another night of dining alone, and probably drinking too many single malts, he flew back north. Alone. He’d thought he already knew what it was to feel desolate, but any previous sadness he’d experienced had been a mere drop in the ocean compared with the sea of misery and despair that swamped him now, as he faced life without Carrie.

  The drive from Townsville to Riverslea Downs had never seemed so long, and it was dusk by the time he arrived.

  Max had always loved taking the last bend on the winding bush track and coming into the open country that offered the first sight of the homestead. His home.

  He especially loved this time of day, when a golden glow shimmered above the western hills and long shadows spooled over the paddocks. But today the scene looked gloomy and unbearably lonely.

  Until this moment, the isolation of his Outback home had never bothered him, but now he could only think how solitary the house looked, and he pictured the long empty months and years ahead, stretching endlessly into a lonesome future. There wasn’t even a dog to greet him. Clover was still being cared for at Whitehorse Creek.

  He parked near the front steps, grabbed his overnight bag from the back seat and went into the house. He hadn’t bothered to lock it, and he shoved the door open, dumped his gear and went quickly from room to room—not taking in details, merely flipping on lights in an effort to cheer himself up.

  When he reached the back door he stood looking out at the orchard trees that screened the vegetable garden, and at Barney’s cottage, where a light was glowing in the purpling twilight.

  He saw Barney standing near his front steps, sending him a straight-armed, cheerful wave. At least someone was pleased to see that he was home.

  Max waved back. ‘It’s just you and me now, old fellow,’ he muttered.

  He was turning to go back inside when he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Near the orchard.

  A kangaroo, perhaps?

  Max looked harder. Surely it had been a human figure?

  A slender shape emerged from the shadows and his heart leapt like a kite in high wind. A woman in jeans and a blue checked shirt with brown shoulder-length hair was coming towards him.

  Then his vision grew blurry and he had to swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. But he knew.

  Carrie was hurrying across the grass, dragging off her gardening gloves and shoving them into the back pocket of her jeans.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CARRIE WANTED TO run to Max, to leap into his arms, but he hadn’t moved from the bottom step and her courage failed her.

  He looked so stern, possibly upset, as if he might not be pleased to see her—which was more than possible. He was frowning.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked as she reached him.

  ‘I arrived yesterday. I caught a bus from Townsville to Julia Creek, and then managed to get a lift out on the mail truck.’

  ‘I’ve been in Sydney, looking for you.’

  ‘I know. Barney told me. I’m sorry, Max. It all felt too messy to try and sort it on the phone. I needed to see you face to face.’

  But now that she was here, face to face with Max, she didn’t feel quite so brave. Max wasn’t frowning any more, but he wasn’t smiling either.

  A pool of yellow light spilled from the kitchen, splashing over him, outlining his dark hair and his big shoulders as he stood on the bottom step, blocking her access to the house.

  ‘I thought you were living in a flat in Sydney,’ he said.

  ‘Did my mother tell you that?’

  ‘She did, yes.’ He folded his arms over his considerable chest.

  ‘I let her think that. If I’d told her I was coming back here we would have had a fight.’

  ‘I see. So why have you come back, Carrie?’

  He looked as formidable now as he had the last time she’d seen him in Sydney, when she’d made him so angry.

  Was he still angry? Carrie knew she couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Max, are we still fighting?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘But I want to know why you’re here.’

  ‘I came to apologise.’

  He gave a sad shake of his head. ‘Because you can’t have a baby? Carrie, you don’t have to apologise for that.’

  Just hearing him say the word baby caused a painful wrench deep inside her. But she was stronger now, armed with the counsellor’s good advice. She knew that her pain was perfectly normal. Legitimate was the word Margaret had used.

  ‘I’m sorry for the way I handled that bad news,’ she said.

  Max shook his head. ‘I wasn’t much better. I overreacted as well. That’s why I went back to Sydney. To find you.’

  ‘So I guess we’re not fighting, then?’

  Now, at last, he smiled. ‘I guess not.’

  Carrie released her breath in a sigh of sweet relief, knowing that she could now tell him the real reason she’d come home. She could cut to the heart of the matter.

  ‘I’m here because I love you, Max. I love you so much. More than ever. And I’m hoping that we—’

  ‘Shh.’ In one stride he was beside her, pressing a finger to her lips. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart.’

  Before she quite knew what was happening he had slipped an arm around her shoulders, another under her knees, scooped her into his arms and started carrying her up the stairs and into the house. As soon as they were inside he closed the back door, shoving it with his boot and shutting out the night.

  Leaning back against the door, he drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close so she could feel the entire, wonderful length of his body.

  ‘Welcome home, Carrie.’

  ‘It’s so good to be here.’

  When their lips met they kissed gently, in a shy hello, but it flowed as easily as the blood in their veins into a deeper kiss—a kiss with heart and soul. A kiss to banish despair.

&n
bsp; A kiss to build hope.

  ‘I love you,’ Carrie told him again. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, my darling girl.’

  ‘I’ve been to see a counsellor, Max.’

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘That was a clever move.’

  ‘She had lots of helpful things to say that I’ll tell you about eventually. She made me feel heaps better.’

  ‘That’s the best news yet, Carrie.’

  Now that she’d started, she needed to tell him more. ‘Being told I was infertile came as a terrible shock. I should have got help.’

  ‘Darling, you should have shared it with me.’

  ‘Yes—instead of damming it up and blaming myself.’

  ‘You were too stressed to think straight.’

  ‘I guess... Now my decision to leave you, to set you free, sounds crazy, but at the time it felt like my only option.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Max said, and gently kissed her forehead, her cheek, the curve of her neck. ‘Just so long as you’re here now, and here to stay.’

  He let his broad hands slide possessively down her back to her waist, and then traced the curves of her hips. The movement bumped the gardening gloves she’d shoved in her back pocket and they tumbled to the floor.

  He chuckled. ‘You’ve already started gardening?’

  ‘I couldn’t help myself. I bought a host of seeds in Sydney and I wanted to get the soil prepared. But I should have been inside, showered and shampooed and waiting for my husband, with something smelling wonderful in the oven.’

  ‘I hope the counsellor didn’t tell you that?’

  ‘No, of course she didn’t. Although she did warn me that the future will have its bad moments. She said that infertility is like grief. The sadness comes in waves. There’ll still be sad days. For both of us. I think a part of me will always grieve for the babies we can’t have.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said gently. ‘Me, too.’

  He drew her to him again, cradling her head close to his chest so she could hear the comforting rhythm of his heart.