A Miracle for His Secret Son Read online

  Should she have spelled it out even more clearly? ‘Nick!’

  He turned back, eyes shining and Freya hadn’t the heart to spoil his fun.

  ‘Just remember, don’t swim out too far,’ she said.

  ‘Aw, M-u-u-m.’

  As they left their towels and jogged across the warm sand to the sea, Gus felt a need to suck in his abs. He was a long way from tubby, but he wasn’t quite as streamlined as he’d been at eighteen, and for the first time in a long time it mattered.

  The surf was magic. He’d forgotten the sheer exhilaration of catching a wave, of feeling it pick him up and rush headlong with him, carrying him forward with magnificent force, then dumping him in the foaming shallows, chest scraping on sand.

  And he hadn’t dreamed that this primitive pleasure would be so greatly enhanced by the company of a child. Nick was at his side the whole time, sometimes acting like a little kid, laughing and squealing, reaching for Gus’s hand, even jumping onto his back as they dived through a wave.

  At other times he was fiercely independent, catching waves fearlessly. Showing off.

  The surf was a little rough and Gus felt a need to keep an eye on the boy the whole time and, truth be told, he was grateful for the distraction. If he hadn’t been watching Nick, he would have been constantly staring at Freya in her stunning lemon and white swimsuit. He would have been mesmerised by her glistening and smooth wet skin and her long mermaid’s hair, sleek against the curve of her neck and shoulders.

  Actually, he wouldn’t have simply been staring; he probably would have found a need to be close to her, finding excuses to touch.

  But Freya was wiser than he was. She kept her distance. When the strap of her bathers slipped, she pulled it up a lot faster than she would have when she was younger, and there were no flirtatious smiles.

  So it was a good thing that Nick was there, always jumping between them, shrieking with glee and distracting Gus’s attention, and preventing him from doing anything foolish. And, when the boy finally admitted he’d had enough of surfing, they went back to their beach towels, dripping and exhausted, and Poppy Jones provided a new distraction.

  She was waiting for them, sitting on the sand beside their towels, looking as unconventionally glamorous as she always had in a colourful kaftan and with her long silver hair in a loopy chignon.

  It was Nick who made the introductions.

  ‘Hey, Poppy, guess what? My dad’s here.’

  ‘So I see.’ Poppy smiled warmly at Freya and her grandson and a tad uncertainly at Gus.

  Hello, here we go… Gus thought, drawing a sharp breath. Poppy had been no fan of his when he was young and he had no idea how she would receive him now. He wasn’t even sure how big a role she’d played in Freya’s decision to keep her pregnancy a secret.

  One thing was certain; Gus would have preferred to be wearing more clothing when he met Freya’s mother after such a long time. It was hard to feel dignified when he was half naked and dripping wet, especially when he was uncomfortably aware that this woman viewed him as the son of snobs and totally unsuitable for her daughter.

  He manufactured a smile. ‘How do you do, Poppy?’

  ‘I’m very well, thanks, Gus.’ Hopping nimbly to her feet, Poppy scooped up Nick’s beach towel and wrapped him in it, giving him a fond hug as she did so.

  To Gus’s surprise, the boy didn’t seem to mind his grandmother’s public display of affection.

  ‘Gus has spent the whole day at the hospital,’ Freya told her mother.

  Without releasing her embrace, Poppy turned to Gus. ‘Freya tells me you’ve come back to help our boy.’

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ Gus said, nodding.

  This time Poppy’s smile was definitely warm. ‘That’s wonderful news. We’re very grateful.’ As she began to towel Nick’s hair dry she said, ‘Freya and Nick always come to my place for dinner on Monday nights. Would you like to join us tonight, Gus?’

  ‘Yes!’ Nick punched the air with a triumphant fist.

  Gus sensed rather than saw the way Freya stiffened.

  ‘Easy there, Nick,’ she said in a gently warning tone. ‘Remember what I said. Gus might have other plans.’

  Freya flashed a significant glance Gus’s way and he knew she was giving him the perfect opening to bow out. He wondered if she was worried that this could be an awkward evening and he thought fast, trying to decide what was best.

  ‘I have a curry simmering away,’ Poppy told him. ‘There’s plenty for everyone.’

  Never once in the time he’d gone out with Freya had Poppy offered him a meal, but now, with her grandson’s life hanging in the balance, that barrier appeared to be finally down.

  Gus couldn’t help feeling pleased, but hadn’t he planned to keep an emotional distance? Dining with this trio would be rather like playing Happy Families, and it might confuse Nick. Even so, Gus wanted to accept. He’d been an outsider for too long.

  Three pairs of eyes were watching him, waiting for his answer. Poppy was looking mildly amused, Freya was as tense as an athlete waiting for the starter’s gun, and Nick looked full of hope.

  It was the hope in Nick’s eyes that decided Gus. After all, the boy was the reason he was here. ‘Thanks, Poppy,’ he said. ‘I’d love to join you, but I need to duck back to the hotel to change.’

  Nick began to dance a little jig of excitement.

  ‘We have to change, too,’ Freya said and she seemed surprisingly relieved. ‘And Nick has to do his homework.’

  Poppy gave them all a pleased smile. ‘Dinner will be ready at seven.’

  Dining in Poppy’s warm, cosy kitchen did feel like Happy Families. Dangerously so. Despite the super-neat sparkling white exterior, the inside of her cottage was as exotic and colourful as her clothing, and when Gus was welcomed at the front door by Nick, he was also met by the smells of jasmine-scented candles mingled with the fragrant aroma of curry.

  Nick’s eyes popped wide when he saw the wine and flowers Gus carried. ‘Are they for my mum?’

  Gus winced inwardly when he saw the boy’s delight. ‘Actually, they’re for your grandmother. Poppy’s the hostess,’ Gus explained. ‘She’s gone to all the trouble of cooking a meal for us.’

  The boy shrugged and pulled a face as if he’d never understand grown-ups, then led Gus down a pea-green hallway to the kitchen.

  Gus’s eyes were drawn immediately to Freya, who was setting the table. She’d fixed her hair into a high twist and had threaded gold hoops in her ears, and she was wearing jeans with a top made from something soft and floaty in muted browns, beiges and pinks. When she saw Gus she smiled and he came to a heart-thudding standstill.

  Her smile seemed to glow, as if she was lit from within, and heaven knew how long he might have stood there, drinking in the sight of her, if Nick hadn’t piped up.

  ‘Poppy, Gus has brought you presents.’

  Coming to his senses, Gus handed the gifts to Poppy, who blushed like a girl and gave him an unexpected hug. ‘I can’t remember the last time a man brought me flowers.’

  ‘What a lovely thought, Gus,’ Freya said and she smiled so warmly, he kissed her on the cheek.

  The kiss felt more significant than it should have.

  Poppy was animated as she deftly arranged the flowers in a vase and set them on a brilliant pink dresser. ‘Freya, find us some glasses, dear. Do we need a corkscrew? It’s in the drawer next to the sink. Can you deal with that, Gus? Oh, and there’s lemonade in the fridge for you, Nick. Help yourself, darling.’

  For a few moments there was general fuss as drinks were organised and steaming pots of rice and curry were set on mats in the centre of the table. The hubbub died as everyone sat down. A gentle breeze drifted in through the kitchen window along with the sounds of waves breaking. Thump, crump, swish. Poppy’s house was right on the edge of the sand, as close to the sea as it was possible to be.

  ‘I’d forgotten what it’s like to live so near to the sea that you can hear it all the ti
me,’ Gus said.

  ‘I don’t know if I could live without it now,’ said Poppy. ‘It’s almost like having another heartbeat.’

  ‘And when I sleep over at Poppy’s the waves sing me to sleep,’ Nick chimed in happily.

  Yes… Gus could remember all too clearly a night when he’d slept here with Freya, close to the singing of the waves. Had there ever been a more perfect night?

  He wondered about the times Nick stayed at his grandmother’s. Where was Freya on those occasions? Out on dates? He discovered this wasn’t a question he wanted to dwell on.

  ‘This smell of curry reminds me of Africa,’ he said.

  Of course they plied him with questions then and, as Poppy dished up spoonfuls of rice and fragrant meat, he told them about Eritrea in the horn of Africa.

  ‘Where’s the horn of Africa?’ demanded Nick.

  ‘Go and get the globe from the lounge room and Gus can show you,’ Poppy told him.

  Nick was back in a moment, bearing a large old-fashioned globe, which he handed to Gus. Then he stood leaning against the back of Gus’s chair with a hand resting casually on his shoulder, his breath soft and warm on the back of Gus’s neck.

  ‘The names of the countries have changed since this globe was made,’ Gus told him. ‘But here’s Eritrea, next to Ethiopia.’ He traced Eritrea’s borders. ‘And here’s the Red Sea, which forms another part of its border.’

  ‘Isn’t Asmara the capital?’ asked Freya.

  ‘That’s right.’

  As Nick went back to his place and they started to eat, Gus told them about Asmara’s beautiful Italian colonial architecture, and about the islands and reefs in the Red Sea and the desolate magnetism of the wastelands of Dankalia in the south.

  ‘Did you see lots of elephants?’ Nick asked.

  Gus shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see many at all. There are only about a hundred elephants left in Eritrea.’

  ‘What’s happened to them?’

  ‘Most of them were killed in the war.’

  Nick looked horrified. ‘Which war?’

  ‘A long, long war with Ethiopia. The people in Eritrea were struggling for independence and it went on for years and years. It was a very hard time for the people and the animals. There were droughts as well as war, and lots of sickness.’

  Gus looked from Freya to Poppy. ‘Sorry, this isn’t exactly a pleasant subject to discuss over dinner.’

  Freya smiled. ‘We’re used to it. These aren’t the worst questions Nick’s asked at dinner time.’ To Nick she said, ‘It’s because of the wars and the drought that Gus went to work in Africa, to help the Eritreans.’

  Nick was wide-eyed, clearly impressed. ‘How did you help them?’

  ‘Mainly by working alongside them. My job was to help them to fight the drought, so I was involved in sinking wells and building dams and finding drought-resistant crops for them to grow.’

  ‘What about your wife? Was she helping them, too?’

  Across the table, Freya’s eyes met Gus’s in a direct, cool challenge, and it took him a second or two to respond.

  ‘Monique taught in one of the hospital medical schools,’ he said. ‘And she worked to educate people generally about health care.’

  Nick’s eyes were huge. ‘How did she die?’

  ‘Nick!’ There was both a warning and an edge of panic in Freya’s voice.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GUS managed a shaky smile. He knew Freya was upset, but he didn’t want to reprimand Nick. The boy was bright and almost certainly understood that his hold on life was at risk. Chances were the whole question of death plagued him much more than he let on.

  It was even possible that an honest answer would help Nick.

  Even so, talking about the way Monique died always brought a sickening chill that soaked Gus to the bone. At least he was used to the feeling now. After two years, he knew it would come whenever he spoke about this.

  ‘My wife was killed in an explosion,’ he told them. ‘She took a wrong turn and she drove her truck over a landmine left behind from the war.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ Poppy whispered.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Freya, white-lipped.

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the table and, rather than allow it to go on for too long, Gus felt a need to resurrect the mood. ‘Wars are terrible things, but the Eritreans are getting on with their lives now. Freya, have you seen any of the contemporary art coming out of Africa? I think you’d love it.’

  Freya brightened visibly. ‘Actually, I’ve been lucky enough to see an exhibition in Canberra. I thought it was amazing. So much energy and excitement in the work. I especially loved the sculptures.’

  She went on to tell Gus about the artists she particularly admired and, to the adults’ relief, Nick found this topic boring and he stopped asking questions.

  He saved them for much later…when they were home again and Freya had tucked him in and kissed him goodnight and was turning out his bedroom light.

  ‘Mum?’ the boy called through the darkness. ‘Do you like Gus?’

  The question zapped through poor Freya as if she’d been spiked by an electric probe. Her legs threatened to give way and she clutched at the door frame for balance. ‘Of course I like him.’

  ‘I mean really like him.’

  Oh, help. She thought she’d nipped this in the bud. Tonight, however, after they’d washed up Poppy’s dishes together, Gus had walked home with them and Nick had walked between them, talking animatedly the whole way, skipping at times, even linking arms with them in moments of pure elation. When they’d said goodnight to Gus at the front gate, the boy had given him a bear hug and clung to him for dear life.

  Remembering the poignancy of that moment now, Freya felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids. Her knees were distinctly wobbly as she walked back to Nick’s bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  ‘Nick, you haven’t forgotten what I told you, have you? You know Gus and I won’t be getting back together.’

  ‘But that’s crazy. Why won’t you?’

  Freya sighed. ‘You know Gus hasn’t come here to see me. He’s only here because of you.’

  ‘But he wants to see you, too. He’s always looking at you. I reckon he likes you.’

  He’s always looking at you. Freya pushed aside the silly little thrill these words caused. ‘Well, yes…Gus likes me as an old friend, but that’s all. Darling, you have to understand it doesn’t mean we’re going to…er…start living together or anything like that.’

  Moonlight shining through the blinds above Nick’s bed illuminated the pout of Nick’s lower lip, and then the glitter of tears in his eyes.

  Freya hugged him. ‘Nicky boy.’ It was an endearment from his baby days. ‘Don’t be sad, darling. Now that Gus knows about you, he’s going to want to stay in touch with you always. I’m sure you’ll see lots of him. He’s so proud of you.’

  ‘But what if he just disappears again?’

  ‘He won’t, Nick.’

  ‘Grandpa did.’

  ‘Oh, darling.’ Freya gave him a hug. ‘I told you Gus is a very different man from Grandpa. Everything about this situation is different. Gus is thrilled that you’re his son. I know how much you mean to him already.’

  She stroked Nick’s hair away from his forehead. It had the habit of falling forward the same way Gus’s did. ‘Now he’s met you and knows how fantastic you are, there’s no way he’d want to lose contact.’

  Using a corner of his sheet, Nick swiped at his eyes. ‘I suppose if Gus gives me his kidney, he’ll have to come back to make sure I’m looking after it properly.’

  ‘You bet he will.’ Somehow, Freya held back the emotion that threatened to choke her. She was so aware of how the boy picked up on the smallest unconscious messages, positive or negative.

  Now she forced herself to picture Nick healthy and strong, spending precious times with his dad long into the future. ‘And that will be perfect, won’t it?’ she said.<
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  Everything would be perfect, she told herself as she left the room, once Nick was well and happy.

  But how would she cope with Gus dropping in and out of their lives? It would be so much easier if she wasn’t still hopelessly in love with him.

  Waiting to hear back about the tests was a new form of torture for Gus. He tried to keep busy, staying in touch with the project in the Northern Territory via phone calls and email, and he used his hire car to tour the district, rediscovering forgotten haunts. He saw Nick when he could in the afternoons after school and they went swimming or for runs on the beach with Urchin.

  Freya emailed an entire photo album devoted to Nick and he pored over these snaps, fascinated by the gradual transformation of his son from tiny baby to chubby toddler to small child, then schoolboy. Sometimes he caught glimpses of Freya’s smile, or he saw an expression in Nick’s eyes that reminded him of himself as a child. But mostly Nick was his own unique self, his features becoming more clearly defined as he grew.

  To Gus’s surprise, he discovered that he no longer felt the same raging disappointment for the lost years when he hadn’t known his son. He knew Nick now and that seemed to matter more.

  The past was gone and, for all he knew, he might have stuffed up being a father. But he and Nick still had the present. And, heaven help him, if he was a perfect match and if the surgeons did their job well, Nick could look forward to a long and healthy life, and Gus planned to be involved.

  Right now, with his heart melting over these glimpses into his son’s life, Gus knew without question that, even if he lived on the other side of the globe, even if his relationship with the boy’s mother remained fragile, he would make sure he was a part of Nick’s future.

  More than once Gus considered inviting Freya to join him for lunch at the hotel. Despite his lingering sense of injustice, he wanted to get to know her better, for all kinds of reasons, and her intimate knowledge of Nick was only one of them. There was a quiet self-assurance about Freya now that intrigued him, and a mysterious allure—sadness and shyness mixed with beauty and courage.