Husband Stay (Husband #2) (31 page)

“Of course not,” I
said automatically as my mind struggled to assimilate this new fact. Then I
hugged him again and an impulse made me add, “I love you Daddy-ji.” I hadn’t
said that since I was a child. “And I love Mummy-ji too,” I added begrudgingly,
because I couldn’t deny that if anything happened to her, I’d rush to her side.
And what was that, if it wasn’t love?

“This man,” my father
said as he pulled back to hold my hands. “The one who is responsible for your
baby. Will you be marrying him?”

I could see he was
struggling not to judge a situation he knew so little about.

But I didn’t want
him worrying, so I nodded. “Yes he is,” I replied. “I’m just not sure when.”

“I would like to
meet him,” my father said, with his adorable head-wobbling.

And just as I had
as a child, I wobbled mine back. “And one day you will.”

But when would
that
one day
be? Back in Sydney, phone calls to Fritha and Louella
strengthened my resolve to go back and pursue Jack. Fritha’s
Go nail that
fucker
was too forceful, while Louella’s
I’m sure once the baby is born
he’ll come around
seemed too passive.

I was going to
miss them both, but before I could leave, I had to front up to Rosie and tell
her my plans. I knew she wouldn’t be pleased, but I had no choice. So the day
after I’d seen my father, I was sitting in her beautiful office in Pyrmont,
with the picture window behind us like a postcard of the glistening blue Sydney
Harbor.

Rosie put down her
tiny espresso cup and said, “When you told me you’d have to pause your career
for a baby, I didn’t imagine it would be so soon.” She wasn’t exasperated, but
I could tell I’d derailed her plans.

 “As it turns out,
I was pregnant at our first meeting.” I shrugged apologetically. “But of course
I’m deliriously happy about that.”

“Yes,” she said
wryly. “It’s always full of promise at the start.” Then she gazed at me
pensively and I saw something happening behind her eyes, some struggle, and I
wanted to ask what was wrong. Did she want to be at home with her children
instead of being a breadwinner? Unfortunately, I didn’t know her well enough to
intrude.

At last she added,
“So how long are you going go hermit on me?”

“A year? Maybe
more?”

I wanted to say I
was sorry, but I wasn’t.

“And you’re moving
to Western Queensland?”

“Middle of
nowhere.” I nodded. “He thinks I’m a city girl, so I want to change his mind.”

She shook her
head. “All right. But don’t get a job out there, you’ll ruin those beautiful
fingernails.”

I laughed at that.
“Ever practical.” Did she imagine there were only shearing sheds and cattle
dips out west?

“You’ve got money
coming in,” she went on, and tapped her ever-present tablet. “So give your
imagination time to breathe. Write songs. Listen to music. Knit booties.”

It was my turn to
shake my head. “I’ve never written a song.”

“Maybe you weren’t
inspired in the past.” She raised an eyebrow. “But it sounds like you’ve got enough
emotional material to fill an album. Or two.” She nodded to herself. “And that
reminds me. This Jack. Do you love him?”

Maybe we did know
each other well enough to get personal.

“Absolutely,” I
replied. I could feel that in the warm rush behind my ribs whenever he came
into my thoughts.

But instead of
looking reassured, Rosie sucked in a deep breath and let it out slow. “Because
you want to be sure about this, Angela. Don’t marry him just to have a father
for your child.”

The haunted look
was back in her eyes, and if she’d been one of my girlfriends I’d have dragged
the truth out of her. But despite the fact that we’d
gone there,
we were
only business associates, so I forced myself to stick to the topic. “He’s the
one. I’d rather be alone than marry anyone else.”

“Because when we
met,” she went on, relentlessly, “You were all about career and babies,
if
they came along. You didn’t seem to want a man.”

“I know.” I
shrugged. “But I’ve fallen in love.”

“In a month.” She
immediately held up a hand and said, “Okay, I’m sounding like I’m your mother—”

“No. Trust me,
you’re not!”

“But answer me
this.” She leant forward and held up three fingers. “Forget I’m your agent for
a second and tell me the truth. Imagine you’ve got three things in your life
and you have to give one of them up. Jack. The baby. Your career—”

“My career.”

She blinked at me
in surprise for a couple of seconds, then she laughed. “You don’t want a
nanosecond to think about that?”

“I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t at all.

But she simply reached
across and patted my hand. “You’re lucky I like you, honey.”

“I just want to be
honest with you, and it won’t be all bad,” I hurried to add. “Hopefully the
documentary will boost sales of the album.” She’d put so much work in, I wanted
her to earn some commissions for her trouble.

But she waved that
away. “Speaking of the documentary,” she said. “I loved that little town they
filmed the ending in.”

“Gillabinda,” It
had been sweet with its neat little houses behind rows of ancient Bottle Trees.
Smaller than Dakaroo where I’d grown up, but with an outback dustiness that
felt completely familiar.

“Is that where
you’re going?” She picked up her coffee and took another sip, and in that
moment, I knew that I would. It was the closest town to Jack’s house. Surely he
couldn’t miss me there…

So I finished the
approvals on the album, and wrote a long letter to Jack, explaining how upset I
was to have misled him into thinking it was all about sex. But I was honest
about the fact that in the beginning, I hadn’t known what it was about, or what
his intentions were. I hadn’t actually known what I wanted—out of a man, or out
of life.

Being a mother had
always been
the most important thing
to me, followed closely by singing.
In retrospect, I had cared more about those two goals than I had about my
marriage, which had probably contributed to my divorce, despite all the ‘good
wife’ things I’d done. My heart simply hadn’t been in it.

Now it was. I
finished my pretty yellow two-page explanation with:

I love you more
than I’ve ever loved any man. I hope I can love our child that much. I want us
to be together, to be married, raising our child and your nieces with love and
laughter.

I know you
think I don’t belong in the country, but I do. Give me the chance to prove it.
Phone me.

I posted it to him
at Daven Downs, hoping like hell that he’d read it. Then I went to say my
goodbyes to Louella over tea on her back terrace and was surprised when Nick
let me in to her Rose Bay mansion. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her if he was
living there too, so I filed that away for
When I have my own life sorted,
I’ll pry into hers.

The next day Kamal
helped me pack, and although it was awkward with neither of us talking about
Fritha and
that weekend
. I was soon on my way, only a week after having
left Jack, with my worldly possessions filling my yellow Camry sedan.

The album would be
released the following week along with the documentary which would air with
promos on
Sunshine,
and I didn’t need to do another thing, except
grow
a happy baby
—Rosie’s parting piece of advice.

So I moved into a
furnished cottage in Gillabinda with roses and a herb garden, and became
resident number 802, just down the road from
Daven Downs
. Then following
my mother’s example, all those years ago, I set about becoming part of the
community, introducing myself as an import from Dakaroo—500 miles south—so the
locals wouldn’t classify me as a city girl, because I knew that wouldn’t end
well.

Two days later I
was welcomed into the local Country Women’s Association where their previous
president had been from Jaipur—talk about luck. All I had to do was name-drop
members of my mother’s circle who had won National CWA baking competitions, and
I was invited to help with the bake sale that very week.

Fritha organized
for some of the boxes of tropical fruit and veg coming into
Bohemian Brew
to be re-routed to me, so I had masses of ‘exotic’ ingredients the locals had
rarely seen. I set about making traditional Indian delicacies for the bake
sale, and some extras to drop off to the pre-school and local nursing home where
they welcomed my help with the weekly bingo.

The librarian, Sara,
was a woman my age, and after bonding over her new ragdoll kitten Delores, and
Sara’s love of my brightly colored Punjabi suits, she started telling everyone
I was the
Nigella Lawson from Mumbai
. To live up to that reputation, I
brought her a Mango Lassi milkshake and a lunchbox of Pani Puri which she’s quickly
became addicted to.

Sara knew everyone
in town, from the ‘slutty backpackers’ behind the bar to the gum-chewing girls
on the checkout at the grocers and the cheeky delivery boys from the produce
store who borrowed computer games and always brought them back late.

I loved her
banter, so I fell into a routine of spending her lunch hour curled into an
armchair in the corner of the library to read and cuddle Delores while Sara
devoured my food.

Isabelle’s funeral
day came—a private family affair that wasn’t widely reported, and I ached for Jack.
Sara talked about them that lunchtime. She’d apparently gone to school with
Isabelle, and her recollections made me feel even more upset, particularly when
I had to pretend to know nothing about them. After lunch I went home to have a
good cry, hating the fact that I lived an hour down the road, and couldn’t see
him.

Having upset his
parents once with the film crew, there was no way I was bringing a drama to
their door, especially not while they were grieving. So in an effort to pour
the pain into something creative, I took Rosie’s advice, and tried to write a
song. It wasn’t easy to begin with. My feelings were jumbled and I couldn’t
make sense of them, but finally I ended up with this:

Touch me. Touch
my skin

Burn the pain
from deep within

Wind your
fingers in my hair

Kiss me so I
just don’t care

Take me
anywhere you want and love me

Thaw my heart
and warm my bones

Make me laugh
and make me moan

Lock me in and
lose the key

Wipe away my
misery

You’re the only
man who can release me…

It wasn’t a song,
but it was a start, and I promised myself I’d work on it further—when I could
write without crying. The next day I was distracted by the
Sunshine
promotion
and the documentary airing that night. Thankfully neither mentioned Jack, but
it still created talk around town.

A couple of the
younger guys jibed me about being on television, and about being a
sexy
singer
, but it was all good natured, and soon shut down by Sara who then
berated me for being a holdout.

One week fell into
the next.

By day I cooked
and distributed sweet treats like sticky Besan Ladoo balls, wishing Jack was
around so I could bewitch him with my culinary skills. By night I read
everything I could about babies, desperately hoping I’d be able to share the
experience with him. That was my Plan A. But if that plan failed, I had to
think about how I’d raise our child alone.

I’d ruled out
living in Sydney with only Louella as my support network. The next option was
Dakaroo, with the specter of my mother taking over. But having lived in Gillabinda
for a fortnight, I could see it was a supportive community of down-to-earth
people, who mostly accepted me, despite my Indian heritage.

Even if Jack
rejected me—which looked likely, as he hadn’t rung—I could make a life here.
But I desperately wanted him
to
phone. And
despite the assertions in my letter, it wasn’t
all about love.
I was in
withdrawal physically as well. While I’d been busy packing and moving, I’d
managed to subdue my libido, but the longer I was away from him, the more my
body craved his touch.

The books said that once morning sickness settled,
hormones could make a woman’s sex drive increase, particularly in the first
trimester. Which turned out to be deadly accurate, and masturbation just wasn’t
cutting it.
I was starting to think I might explode from longing.

And then, one day,
he walked into the library

I was curled up in
a corner armchair with Delores on my lap, reading a dog-eared copy of
Pride
and Prejudice
, because there’s nothing like a contentious romance when
you’re lovesick. And out of the corner of my eye I saw one bright blond head,
and then another.

Children often
visited the library while I was there, so I don’t know what sixth sense pulled
me out of the story to glance up, but when I did, my breath caught in my
throat. The girls had their backs to me, working their way down a shelf of
picture books, clearly deciding which ones to take home. And in the next
instant Jack came into view, also with his back to me.

I wasn’t prepared for this, so my pulse jumped, but I
had the advantage. If I took control of the situation, I could use surprise to
leverage a better outcome. So I put down my book, tucked the kitten against my
waist and set off toward them.

When I was five paces away, Jack turned and idly
glanced in my direction.

“Hello,” I said brightly, closing the distance between
us as he recoiled in surprise. “How lovely to see you again.” I stopped right
in front of him and smiled—which was hard because he was looking stunned—but I
waited him out.

Eventually, he smoothed his expression and said,
“Hello.” Then he looked around, as if he was expecting a film crew. “What are
you doing here?” The girls browsed on, oblivious.

I frowned deliberately. “I live here,” I replied, as
if he should have known.

At that moment, Charley turned with a book in her
hands, and her pigtails seemed to stand on end. “Angela!” she squealed. “And a
kitten!”

As if all her Christmases had come at once.

The books went flying and both girls pounced on me at
the same time, hugging my pants with one arm and reaching for the kitten which
I held up away from them.

“Don’t frighten her.” I laughed at their desperation.
“She’s only tiny.”

“
Please!”

“Girls,” Jack said firmly, then he grabbed both
questing hands so he could pull them back to his side. “Where are your
manners?” There was nothing of crankiness in his tone. He sounded, dazed, if
anything, and he’d barely taken his eyes off me, which gave me hope.

But I was way past mere hope. Seeing him in a casual
western shirt with jeans and dusty boots made my libido start ticking like a
metronome in overdrive.
Presto. Molto Presto!

I wanted to lick across that acreage, as Fritha had so
colorfully put it, and lose myself there. Being able to gaze into his warm
brown eyes and imagine kissing those slightly parted lips was making me light-headed.

But Daisy was still reaching with her free hand. “We
said
please!” She hadn’t taken her eyes off Delores for a second. “JB, it’s a kitten!”

“I don’t care if it’s a miniature unicorn.” Jack dragged
his attention away from me to frown at her “We don’t
grab
. Especially
not at things that break.”

“That’s the kitten,” I clarified. “Not me.” I didn’t
want them thinking my pregnancy had made me fragile.

But Jack’s gaze flicked instantly to my wrist, which
was almost completely back to normal. Was he feeling guilty? That was the last
thing I wanted.

So I said, “All better,” and gave it a twist. “I’m
fine.”

He nodded, but his expression had sobered.

Then Daisy piped up, “She’s having a baby, remember?” as
if Jack was forgetful.

We gazed at each other for another few seconds before
he said, “Why are you here?”

“I live here,” I repeated, but he only frowned, as if I
was giving him clues to a puzzle he couldn’t work out.

“
Angel-aaaaa
,” little Charley wailed, and the
one arm Jack wasn’t holding reached up desperately for the kitten.

I stopped staring at Jack, wishing he’d just kiss me,
and turned to Charley. “Okay, but Delores isn’t mine. I’ll have to ask Sara if
you can pat her.” The last thing I wanted was to walk away from Jack, but if
the kitten bought us time to talk, it would be worth the interruption.

“Yay!” They started dancing in delight, and I was
about to head to the counter to ask Sara, when Jack leaned down to scoop
Charlie up into his arms, presumably to restraint her, and I saw a flash of
yellow in his pocket.

The same yellow as the notepaper I’d poured my heart
out on.

The moment he straightened, I pointed at his pocket.
“Is that my letter?”

Still standing beside him, Daisy grinned. “That’s JB’s
special
letter. We’re not allowed to touch it.” Jack opened his mouth
but she chatted on, “He takes it out and reads it all the time, when he thinks
we’re not looking. But we are.” She grinned up at him with the self-satisfied
expression only a six-year-old can form. And he closed his mouth, settling on
staring at me, his cheeks flushed with some inner disturbance.

But he wasn’t denying it.

My pulse had already been high, and now it started to
race. “Special,” I said to him.

He just nodded.

“And yet…you didn’t call me.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate.”

Because your sister just died?
I wasn’t going to say that with Daisy and Charley
listening, so I just said, “I see.” But I was wondering if he meant he’d been
planning to call me
.
Later.

 My over-riding desire was to get him somewhere
private where we could speak frankly. But I had to sort the kitten issue and I
was terrified that he might think better of the idea and leave.

So I said, “Stay.” And I pointed at his boots. “Right
here.”

Charley laughed in delight and clapped her hands.
“That’s what he tells the dogs.”

Jack almost cracked a smile then, and my heart
fluttered. Those white teeth in that tanned face, and those very sexy brown
eyes. Sweet Shiva. If I didn’t get the chance to kiss that man again, I might
explode. I was getting shakily excited, but I ignored that to walk over to Sara
who was finishing up with young Matt from the bakery.

“Two weeks, remember,” she said, giving the kid her
best librarian glare. Then she handed over his
Game of Thrones
DVD and
turned to me. I expected her to make some quip about people not borrowing her
kitten, but as soon as the boy turned away her cheeky smile faded into what I
thought of as her ‘deathly serious mode’ and she said softly, “You and Jack.”

How…?
I
wanted to shake my head, but I didn’t, and after another few seconds she said,
“I saw the way he was looking at you. Are you guys an item?”

I knew Sara would be wondering why I’d never mentioned
this, and perhaps wondering if this was the reason I’d come to Gillabindi, but
I was in a hurry. “Can the girls pat Delores?”

Sara frowned, obviously disappointed that I wasn’t
opening up to her, but to her credit she looked around herself at the space
behind the counter. “If they come in here where I can watch them, they can pat
her. I’ll mind them for half an hour while you take Mr.
I can’t take my eyes
off her ass
for a coffee. Or something.” She raised an eyebrow.

I suddenly remembered I had leftover Pani Puri at
home. “Or lunch!” It was a brilliant idea. I could wow him with my cooking
while we spoke.

“Right,” she said dryly. “Because clearly he’s got food
on his mind.”

Despite Sara’s innuendo, Jack had just lost his sister,
so I didn’t for a moment imagine he would be looking for a quickie. But if he
was willing to talk, I was going to pounce on that opportunity.

So I handed the dozing kitten to Sara who said, “I’ve
got crackers and cheese in the fridge. I’ll make them snacks. Jack…” she acknowledged
as he came up behind me. “I’m sorry about Issy.”

I turned to see him nodding, then I explained Sara’s
offer and he said, “Sure,” his gaze barely leaving mine as he hugged Daisy and
Charley in turn and then let them go. “Thanks Sara.”

“We’re fine,” she said and waved us away. The girls
rushed around the counter and she asked them to sit before she’d hand over the
kitten. It was time for Jack and I to go, but the intensity between us grew
thicker, until I was frightened to speak.

The reality that I might have him inside my house and
away from where anyone could see us was making me dizzy with excitement. But I
was also terrified that I’d muck this up. I had no idea what he was thinking.

But he’d read my letter—a lot, if Daisy was to be
believed.

So somehow I found the courage to say, “Let’s go to my
house,” and miraculously, he nodded, then
he took my hand.

My breath caught in excitement as the tingle of warmth
shot up my arm, and I was momentarily stunned that he didn’t care if Sara saw
him. “Where is it?” he asked.

“Two streets away,” I said breathlessly.

“Then let’s walk.”

And we did. He held my hand as we left the library,
and seemed oblivious to the stares of the locals who saw us pass. He simply
walked beside me, his gaze on the path ahead of us.

Holding my hand.

I had no idea what to make of this physical intimacy,
but my libido was heading into
presto
territory. It was vital
that I convince Jack that I wanted more than sex, but my body was a riot of
sensation.

The fabric of my
plain cotton bra rubbed against my nipples. I could feel that. And as my hair
brushed against my shoulders, I remembered Jack’s lips there and that turned me
on even more. Soon I was feeling those tiny clutching sensations between my
legs and I struggled to distract myself by saying hello to the people we
passed, probably surprising Jack that I knew them all.

He only nodded at
them, and with a loss in the family so recently, that didn’t seem rude. I was
loving the feel of his skin against mine and not wanting it to end, but when we
reached my house and I led us down the path to the front door, I had to let him
go to get my key out and let us in.

Then we were
inside, and I was so nervous I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. Worse,
my skin was tingling as if every tiny hair was raised, reaching out to him,
wanting to be stroked.

“The kitchen is
this way,” I said, and my voice sounded strangled. But I ignored that to unhook
the satchel from around my shoulder and put it on the entry table.

“Angela.”

I turned to find
him just inside the closed door. The letter was open in his hands and the
torment in his eyes immediately quelled my libido.

“Is this true?”

I nodded straight
away.

“You’re giving up
your career? You’ve moved here for good? You’re clear on what you want?” His
voice wasn’t shaking, but there was an intensity to it that told me these
questions were
very
important.

I took my time
answering carefully. “I want you. I want this baby. I want Daisy and Charley to
grow up happy and loved.” I shrugged. “Anything else is bubble-wrap.”

“Because…” He
stopped himself there and it took an effort of will to stay silent, when what I
wanted to do was shout
Tell me every objection so I can counter it.
Finally,
he said, “Those two girls are my responsibility now.”

As if I’d
forgotten.

“I know that—”

“No, you can’t
understand.” He shook his head to emphasize the point. “I’m not at liberty to do
what I want. What I
need.
I have to do what’s right for them.”

He needs me.

I went still then,
and the part of my brain saying
Get him into the kitchen where the food is
shut
down. He was already convinced that he loved me, he wanted me and he needed me.
So this wasn’t about love or sex or anything sensual. It was about duty and
responsibility and fear.

If I wanted to marry
him, I had to look at those fears and help him face each one. “In what way
might I not be right for them?” I asked him quietly.

“Their father was
an entertainer.”
Oh no.
“A rodeo cowboy with a charming smile and a
ready line in bullshit every time he was in town. Which wasn’t often. My
parents disapproved of him.”

Okay, this was
just getting worse.

“But Izzy was
infatuated with him. Which I didn’t understand at the time.” He looked at me
pointedly and I had to fight a low, sick swirling in my stomach. “They warned
her not to see him, but she got pregnant to him. Twice. And then he died in a
fall.”

I’m not like
him.
I wanted to shout it, but instead I shook my head. “Poor Isabelle.”
And poor Jack, having to stand by and watch. But even as I was responding to
that, a part of my brain was thinking
That’s ancient history. What about
now?
So I asked, “Did you parents warn you not to see me?”

He sucked in a
slow breath and surprised me by shaking his head. “No, they didn’t.” But then
he went on, “They don’t have to. They know I’ll never do anything to hurt the
girls.”

“And our baby?” I
asked. “They’re happy for you to hurt our child?”

“I haven’t.”

“But you’re
pushing me away.”

“No I’m not,” he
said instantly. “I’m simply not letting you in. There’s a difference.”

Okay. I was right
at the door to his heart and he just wasn’t opening it. I could use the sex
key, but then I might be outside the door again tomorrow. I needed to find a
more permanent solution.