First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart (9 page)

‘I deal with Elsie by telling her stories.’

He swung around so quickly he almost spilled his drink. ‘Like our fairytales?’

She shook her head. No, not like those. They were just for her and Ben. ‘I talk at her—telling her what I’ve been up to for the week, what child did what to another child at work, what I saw someone wearing on the boardwalk in Nelson Bay, what wonderful new dish I’ve recently tried cooking, what book I’m reading. Just...monologues.’

It should be a tedious, monotonous rendition—a chore—but in between enquiring if Elsie had won anything at Housie or the raffles and if she’d made her shopping list yet, to amuse herself Meg dramatised everything to the nth degree. It made the time pass more quickly.

‘So I should tell her what I’ve been up to?’

She shrugged.

‘But I haven’t been doing anything since I got back.’

She made her voice tart. ‘Then I suggest you start doing something before you turn into a vegetable.’

A laugh shot out of him. ‘Like I said earlier, don’t hold back.’

She had no intention of doing so, but... She glanced at the handsome profile beside her and an icy hand clamped around her heart and squeezed. Her chest constricted painfully. She didn’t want to make Ben miserable. She didn’t want him feeling bad about himself. She wanted him to be happy.

And living in Fingal Bay would never make him happy.

She dragged her gaze back to the mug she cradled in her hands. ‘I already have the names of ten guests from my father.’

‘How’d you manage that?’

‘Deceit and emotional blackmail.’

He grinned. And then he threw his head back and laughed. Captured in the moment like that he looked so alive it momentarily robbed her of breath, of speech, and of coherent thought. She never felt so alive as when Ben was home. Yearning rose inside her. Yearning for...

He glanced at her, stilled, and his eyes darkened. It seemed as if the very air between them shimmered. They swayed towards each other.

And then they both snapped away. Meg grabbed their now empty mugs and bolted for the sink, desperately working on getting her breathing back under control. They’d promised one another that they would never go
there
again. They’d agreed their friendship was too important to risk. And that still held true.

In the reflection of the window she could see Ben pacing on the other side of the breakfast bar, his hands clenched. Eventually she wouldn’t be able to pretend to be washing the cups any more.

Ben coughed and then stared up at the ceiling. ‘Deceit and emotional blackmail?’

She closed her eyes, counted to three and turned off the tap. She turned back to him, praying—very hard—that she looked casual and unconcerned. ‘I told him that Elsie would love a small party for a reception and that if he cared about Elsie’s needs then he’d give me the names of ten people I could invite to the wedding.’

‘It obviously worked.’

Like a charm. Her father and Elsie might not be particularly demonstrative, but Meg didn’t doubt they cared deeply for each other. She remembered their linked hands, the fire in Elsie’s eyes when she’d defended Laurie to Ben, and her father’s vulnerability.

She glanced at Ben. He seemed completely unfazed by that ‘moment’. The hot chocolate in her stomach curdled. Maybe she’d been the only one caught up in it.

She cleared her throat. ‘It worked so well he actually gave me a dozen names.’

Ben rubbed his chin. ‘If I did it in reverse...’

‘Worth a try,’ she agreed.

‘Brilliant!’ He slapped a hand down on the breakfast bar. ‘Thanks, Meg.’

‘Any time.’

But the words sounded wooden, even to her own ears. He opened the back door, hesitated, and then turned back. ‘I didn’t come back to make your life chaotic on purpose, Meg.’

She managed a smile. ‘I know.’

‘What night do you check up on your father?’

She should have known he’d make that connection. ‘Tomorrow night. He refuses to cook, or to let me cook, so we have dinner at the RSL club.’

‘Would it be all right if Elsie and I came along with you tomorrow night?’

What? Like a family? She frowned and scratched the back of her neck. Eventually she managed to clear her throat again. ‘The more the merrier.’

‘What time should we be ready?’

‘He likes to eat early these days, so I’ll be leaving here at six.’

With a nod, he was gone.

* * *

Ben stood in the dark garden, adrift between Meg’s house and Elsie’s.

He’d wandered over to Meg’s tonight because he couldn’t have stood another ten minutes in Elsie’s company, but...

He scratched a hand back through his hair. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with his own inadequacies. With his selfishness.

He threw his head back to glare at the stars. He dragged cleansing breaths into his lungs. No wonder Meg didn’t believe he’d see this fatherhood gig through.

He rested his hands against his knees and swore. He had to start pulling his weight. Meg was pregnant. She should be focussing on things like getting ready for the baby. Resting.

While he’d been off seeing the world Meg had been taking care of everyone. He straightened. Well, her days of being a drudge were over. He’d see to that.

He glanced at his grandmother’s house. Shoving his shoulders back, he set off towards it.

He found Elsie at the kitchen table, playing Solitaire—just as she’d been doing when he’d left. The radio crooned songs from the 1950s.

‘Drink?’ he offered, going to the fridge.

‘No, thank you.’

She didn’t so much as glance at him. He grabbed a beer...stopped...set it back down again and seized a can of soda instead. The silence pressed down like a blanket of cold snow. He shot a glance towards the living room and the promised distraction of the television.

You turn back into a sullen ten-year-old
.

He pulled out a chair and sat at the table with Elsie—something he hadn’t done since he’d returned home—and watched as she finished her game. She glanced at him and then in the wink of an eye, almost as if she were afraid he’d change his mind, she dealt them both out seven cards each.

‘Can you play rummy?’

‘Sure I can.’

‘Laurie taught me.’

His skin tightened. He rolled his shoulders. So far this was the longest conversation they’d had all week. ‘I...uh...when he was recuperating and you visited?’

‘That’s right.’

He wanted to get up from the table and flee. It all felt so wrong. But he remembered Meg’s crack about him reverting to a sullen ten-year-old and swallowed. ‘When I was in Alaska I played a form of rummy with the guys off the fishing trawlers. Those guys were ruthless.’

But Elsie, it seemed, had clammed up again, and Ben wondered if it was something he’d said.

They played cards for a bit. Finally he broke the silence. ‘Meg’s looking great. Pregnancy obviously agrees with her.’

Nothing.

‘She’s crocheting this thing—a baby shawl, I think she said. Looks hard, and progress is looking slow.’ He picked up the three of spades Elsie had discarded. She still didn’t say anything. He ground back a sigh. ‘Can you crochet?’

‘Yep.’

She could? He stared at her for a moment, trying not to rock back on his chair. ‘You should ask her to bring this shawl over to show you. In fact, you should make something for the baby too.’

She didn’t look up from her cards. ‘Me?’

He frowned. ‘And so should I.’

‘You?’ A snort accompanied the single syllable.

He cracked his knuckles. ‘I might not be able to knit or sew, but travelling in the remote parts of the world forces a guy to become pretty handy.’

Handy?
Ha!
He could fashion a makeshift compass, build a temporary shelter and sterilise water, but what on earth could he make for the baby that would be useful? And beautiful. Because he’d want it to be beautiful too. An heirloom.

‘A crib.’ As the idea occurred to him he said it out loud. He knew a bit about carpentry. ‘I’ll build a crib for the baby.’ He laid out his trio of threes, a trio of jacks and placed his final card on Elsie’s sevens. ‘Gin.’

Elsie threw her cards down with a sniff.

‘Best of three,’ Ben announced. ‘You’re rusty. You need the practice. Though it’s got to be said those Alaskan fisherman took no prisoners.’

Elsie picked up her second hand without a word. Ben mentally rolled his eyes. Meg was right. This was hard work. But he found a certain grim enjoyment in needling Elsie too.

As they played he found himself taking note of Elsie’s movements. Her hands were steady and she held herself stiffly erect. No signs of a debilitating disease there as far as he could see. When she won the game in three moves he had to conclude that, while she didn’t say much, her mind was razor-sharp.

‘Gin!’ There was no mistaking her triumph, but she still didn’t crack a smile.

He snorted. ‘I went easy on you.’

Her chin came up a notch. Her eyes narrowed.

‘Oh, and by the way, we’re having dinner with Meg and her father tomorrow evening at the club. I said we’d be ready at six.’

‘Right.’

They played in silence for several moments, and then all in a rush it suddenly occurred to Ben that he might be cramping the older couple’s style. He cleared his throat. It wasn’t easy imagining Elsie and Mr Parrish wanting—needing—privacy. But that didn’t change the fact that they were engaged.

‘Do you mind me staying here while I’m in town?’

‘No.’

‘Look, if it’s not convenient I can arrange alternative accommodation. I might be staying a bit longer than usual.’

‘How long?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

Oh, he was sure, all right. He was staying for good. Meg should be the first to know that, though. ‘I’d certainly understand it if you’d like me to find somewhere else to stay.’

‘No.’

He stared at her. She didn’t say any more. ‘Did my mother really never contact you, not even once, after she left me here?’

The question shocked him as much as it probably shocked Elsie. He hadn’t known it had been hovering on his lips, waiting to pounce. He hadn’t known he still even cared what the answer to the damn question might be.

Elsie folded her cards up as tight as her face and dropped them to the table. ‘No.’

Without another word she rose and left the room.

‘Goodnight, Ben,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Goodnight, Elsie,’ he forced himself to call out. ‘Thanks for the card game.’

* * *

Ben and Elsie strolled across to Meg’s the next evening at six on the dot. At least Ben strolled. Elsie never did anything quite so relaxed as stroll. Her gait was midway between a trudge and a march.

They waited while Meg reversed her car—a perky blue station wagon—out of the garage, and then Ben leant forward and opened the front passenger door for Elsie.

‘I insist,’ he said with a sweep of his arm when she started to back away. He blocked her path. Her choices were to plough through him or to subside into the front seat. She chose the latter.

‘Hey, Meg.’ He settled into the back seat.

‘Hey, Ben.’ She glanced at Elsie. ‘Hello, Elsie.’

‘Hello.’

He didn’t need to see Elsie to know the precise way she’d just folded her hands in her lap.

‘How was work?’ he asked Meg as she turned the car in the direction of Nelson Bay. He was determined to hold up his end of the conversation this evening.

‘Hectic... Fun.’ She told them a silly story about one of the children there and then flicked a glance at Elsie. ‘How was your day?’

‘Fine.’

‘What did you get up to?’

‘Nothing new.’

In the rear vision mirror she caught Ben’s glance and rolled her eyes.

‘Though I did come across a recipe that I thought I might try. It’s Indian. I’ve not tried Indian before.’

Silence—a stunned and at a loss silence—filled the car. Meg cleared her throat. ‘Sounds...uh...great.’ She glanced in the mirror again and Ben could almost see her mental shrug. She swallowed. ‘What did
you
do today, Ben?’

‘I bought some wood.’

She blinked as she stared at the road in front of her. ‘Wood?’

‘That’s right. But don’t ask me what it’s for. It’s a surprise.’

She glanced at Elsie. ‘What’s he up to? Is he building you a veggie patch?’

‘Unlikely. But if he does it’ll be
his
veggie patch.’

In the mirror Meg raised an eyebrow at him and he could read her mind. They were having a conversation like normal people—him, her and Elsie. He couldn’t blame her for wondering if the sky was falling in.

‘I’ll tell you something that’s surprised the pants off of me,’ he said, as smoothly as he could.

In the mirror he watched her swallow. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘Elsie plays a mean hand of rummy.’

Meg glanced at her. ‘You play rummy?’

‘Yes, your father taught me.’

Just for a moment Meg’s shoulders tightened, but then she rolled them and shrugged. ‘Rummy is fun, but I prefer poker. Dad plays a mean hand of poker too.’

Did he? Ben wondered if he’d ever played a hand or two with his daughter.

‘So Elsie kicked your butt, huh?’

‘We’re a game apiece. The tie-break’s tonight.’

‘Well, now.’ Meg pulled the car to a halt in the RSL Club’s parking lot. ‘I expect to hear all about it tomorrow.’

‘If she beats me, I’m making it the best of five.’

Elsie snorted. ‘If you come to dinner next Wednesday, Meg, you can join in the fun.’

He wasn’t sure who was more stunned by that offer—him, Meg or Elsie.

‘Uh, right,’ Meg managed. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Elsie’s efforts at hospitality and conversation had thrown him as much as they’d obviously thrown Meg, but as Ben climbed out of the car he couldn’t help wondering when he’d fallen into being so monosyllabic around his grandmother. Especially as he prided himself on being good company everywhere else.

He frowned and shook his head. He’d
never
been anything but monosyllabic around Elsie. It was a habit. One he hadn’t even considered breaking until Meg had sent out the challenge.