Meant To Be (31 page)

That was the beauty of calling it The Button Jar; it wasn't locked into being an art gallery. But Jake was right; she had to start thinking ahead. It could take ages to secure an artist; for all she knew, good ones might be booked out years in advance.

It was all coming together rather too fast. Soon it would be really happening. And if she didn't want to make a hash of her
first foray into business – and prove her mother right – then she'd better get her act together.

When Jake began talking about public relations consultants, he must have seen the sheer bewilderment on her face. ‘So people know about it,' he explained. ‘You could have the best idea and run the best business in the world, but there'd be no point if nobody knows about it.'

‘But isn't that what journalists are for?' Emily said, frowning in confusion.

‘Yes, but how do you think they find out about what to do a story on?'

Emily shrugged helplessly. She was way out of her depth.

‘Darling, all those little snippets of advertorial in papers plugging products and services are all deliberate. It's the work of public relations people to get the media to talk about what they're being paid to promote.'

‘I thought public relations people were the ones who stand up at press conferences on behalf of companies to make statements or say they have no comment, or whatever,' she said.

‘That's still PR, but a slightly different sort than what we're looking for here.'

‘Right. Well, I'll just leave all this to you then, okay?'

Jake reached for her hand. ‘You can't leave
all
of it to me. You'll need to be able to talk about what you'll be stocking at The Button Jar, where the name came from, Simone's style, and all that sort of thing, during any interviews. You'll need to
sell
the place and the concept, entice people to drop by.'

‘I'm going to be interviewed?'

‘Hopefully. We'll need publicity if this is going to succeed. And no offence, Em, but I don't think just the
Wattle Creek Chronicle
will cut it.'

Emily liked his drive and determination, and belief in their success, but it was all getting rather serious. She had no intention of creating an empire. All she wanted was a little shop to keep her occupied and make enough money so she could remain viable without relying too much on the farm or her savings.

‘Are you okay?' Jake suddenly asked, looking at her with concern in his eyes.

Emily rubbed her head. ‘Just a little overwhelmed, and a bit queasy still.'

‘As for being overwhelmed, you have me to hold your hand. I've been through this before. It's not exactly the same as launching an architectural-building firm in Melbourne, but I'm sure some of the principles are the same.'

‘Thank goodness I've got you,' Emily said wearily, and leaned over and kissed him.

‘Well, you do,' he said, dragging her into a tight hug. And if you're still not feeling well in the morning, you should see a doctor. We've got a big few months ahead; we need you in peak condition.'

They were still snuggling in each other's arms at midnight when the phone rang. Emily's heart instantly began to race, as it always did when anyone phoned late in the night or very early in the morning. In her experience, it usually only meant bad news.

‘Who could it be at this hour?' Jake said, voicing her thoughts. He sat up and picked up the handset.

‘Hello, Jake speaking,' he said, looking at Emily. ‘No, that's okay, we weren't actually asleep.'

For Emily, only being able to hear half the conversation was frustrating, and the wait excruciating. Who was it on the other end of the phone?

‘What's happened?' Jake asked, sitting up straighter. Emily watched the blood slowly drain from his face.

‘Oh no. Is she okay? Are you okay? What about the baby?'

Now she sat up and brought her hands to her mouth. She stared at Jake, who had his eyes locked on her.

‘Okay, I can do that. You just call if there's anything else we can do. Anything at all.' He reached for Emily's hand and squeezed. ‘Well, you hang in there. You just have to trust the doctors to do their work. We'll handle things here; you're not to worry about a thing.' He listened again. ‘No worries. All the best. And send our love to Barbara. Call again when you know more. Right. See you.'

Jake put the phone down, let out a deep sigh, and rubbed his hands across his face.

‘What's happened?' Emily said. ‘Is it the baby?'

‘Barbara's experiencing some bleeding. They've flown her to Adelaide. They've just arrived. She's being assessed.'

‘Oh, God, poor Barbara. And David. They must be terrified. What can we do?'

‘I'm going to carry on as planned with the seeding. David's going to phone Bob Stanley in the morning and see if he can do a couple of night shifts. Poor fellow, you could hear how torn he was. He needs to get the crop in or else he'll lose a year's income, but he can't leave Barbara.'

‘No, that he absolutely cannot do,' Emily said emphatically. ‘And she said she was feeling so much better today too,' Emily added sadly. ‘She was even affectionately talking to her bump.'

‘Yeah. Hopefully it's just a false alarm and everything will be okay.'

‘Hmm. Hey, what about Sasha?' Emily asked.

‘He didn't mention her. I'll pop by on my way out to the paddock first thing and check she's got food and water. I'm sure
David will know more in the morning. If they're going to be away for more than a few days we'll bring her over here. But let's hope it won't come to that. Fingers crossed it's just a false alarm.'

They lay there in each other's arms knowing they should get some sleep, and that it would be nearly impossible now.

Poor Barbara,
Emily thought.
Why does such a kind, loving person – someone who would be the best mother in the world – have to go through this? It just isn't fair.

‘Come on,' Jake said. ‘We should try to rest. They're going to be relying on us and we need to be on top of our game.'

‘Hmm,' Emily agreed. But she was thinking,
you maybe; I'm just going to be uselessly sitting around. What can I do to help?

She rolled over and Jake spooned in behind her. She concentrated on saying the mantra, ‘Please let everything be okay for all of them,' over and over in the hope sleep would come.

Just when everything was going so well…

They woke with the grey of early morning peeping through the tiny gaps in the bedroom curtains. Jake gave Emily a quick peck on the lips and said good morning before getting slowly out of bed. The mood was sombre, as gloomy as the day outside. It was a far cry from three days ago when they'd been celebrating their engagement and Easter with Simone.

Emily watched Jake get dressed, unwilling to face a day that promised to be anything but good. She felt the nausea creeping back in, so reluctantly got out of bed and began dragging her own clothes on. She didn't have time to feel unwell; she had Barbara and David to focus on.

‘You're very pale,' Jake said as they sat down for breakfast, which, yet again, held little interest for Emily. ‘You really had better go and see a doctor.'

‘Maybe you're right.' Emily didn't really think her general heaviness and lethargy warranted a trip to the doctor, given what Barbara was going through. It was probably just a virus. But it would be good to know what was going on. ‘I'll go down to Hope Springs and see if I can catch up with Dad too. And I suppose I'd
better check Mum's not off booking churches,' she said, smiling and rolling her eyes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Jake smiled back, clearly appreciating her efforts. But it didn't help. Nothing would until they heard all was well with their friends. Though, if they lost the baby…

Emily tried not to think about that. She didn't know what she'd do if that happened. They just had to hope it didn't.
Trust in the universe.
Though look how it had turned on Barbara and David.

Emily packed sandwiches, some cake, and a thermos of coffee, and saw Jake off at the door with a lingering hug. Her heart was heavy as she watched him walk down the path and turn and wave at the gate. Grace, obviously sensing she was needed by her mistress' side, remained with Emily.

She sat back down at the kitchen table. Her fingers itched to phone David. But she resisted. They would call when they knew more or needed something from them. Meanwhile, she had to give them their space. The thought of a day with nothing to do looming ahead was a little terrifying. She had to phone and order the chandelier, but as excited as she'd been about it last night, it all seemed so insignificant now. She'd said as much to Jake over the muesli she pushed back and forth in her bowl.

‘Life must go on, Em,' he'd replied. ‘It's not about us. I don't think Barbara and David would want us putting our project on hold because of them.'

It was all right for him; he was actually doing something constructive – something to help. She just felt useless and frustrated.

She watched the clock's minute hand tick painfully slowly towards nine, and then phoned the medical centre. She was in luck; there had been a cancellation, so she secured an appointment for later that morning. Then she phoned Karen, who told her the
chandelier she'd seen a couple of months ago was still available. The day was looking up.

As Emily drove towards Hope Springs, half an hour away from her farm, she glanced at her ring twinkling above her finger on the steering wheel. Her parents would be seeing it for the first time today, if they were home. They should be excited, celebrating, cracking open champagne. But how could she even think of her happiness and future when Barbara and David's hung in limbo?

She went straight to the medical centre, parked, went in, presented her Medicare card, signed the form, and took a seat between a pimply faced teenager and an old man wheezing with emphysema. She picked a magazine from the stack and settled in, willing her nausea to subside. She'd had a wave of it so strong as she was leaving the house that she'd grabbed one of the empty fruit buckets and taken it in the car.

As she opened the magazine, her ring caught her eye again. She probably should organise a notice announcing their engagement in the
Chronicle
before too long. She made a mental note to mention it to Jake that night. Emily smiled to herself at recalling how Gran always referred to that section in the paper as hatch, match, and dispatch – births, marriages, and deaths.

She had just become engrossed in an article about Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin – ‘Conscious Uncoupling'; how bloody ridiculous! – when she heard her name called. Already? With a slight sigh, she dumped the magazine and made her way to where a tall, straight-backed male doctor with a receding grey hairline, kind eyes, and a gentle smile stood at the open door with a file in his hand.

‘So, my dear, what can I do for you today?' he asked. She had no idea what his name was.

‘Well, I'm just feeling a bit off; a bit queasy. I have been pretty busy lately, but for a few days now I've been feeling weary all the
time. I seem to have gone off coffee too, but that's hardly likely to be a symptom of anything, now is it?' she finished off with a flutter of her hand.

‘You do look a little pale,' the doctor said, after patiently waiting out her ramble. ‘Any other symptoms? Vomiting, diarrhea?'

Emily shook her head. ‘No. It doesn't come on suddenly with cramps or anything. Not like I've eaten something that's disagreed with me. I didn't overindulge in chocolate over Easter.' She let out a nervous little laugh. ‘And I haven't actually thrown up – just felt like I might. Quite a bit.'

‘Right. So, really, you just feel a bit off? Not quite right? And for a few days now?'

‘Yes. But I actually feel perfectly fine right now,' Emily said with some surprise, as she suddenly realised she did in fact feel perfectly fine. ‘Maybe I've just been doing too much.' She pulled the handbag on her lap tighter to her.

‘Well, you're here now. It might just be a virus, in which case you'll just have to ride it out, I'm afraid. But you could be low in iron or deficient in something else. Best I check you over and take some blood. Just to be sure.'

He put his hands under her jaw and felt her glands.

Brrr, cold hands!

‘Your glands aren't up, so I doubt it's glandular fever.'

He took a little light on a stick from his top drawer and looked in her ears. Then held her tongue down with a wooden spatula and looked into her mouth. Next he inserted a thermometer in her ear for a few moments, then drew it out and read it without so much as a murmur. He wrapped the wide strap of the blood pressure cuff around her arm, pumped the rubber ball until Emily thought her arm would be crushed, undid it and released her, and then got up and went out of sight where Emily heard him fossicking about.

A few moments later he came back. She tried not to look at the needle in the little bowl. She pulled up her sleeve, looked away as the needle went in, and concentrated on breathing calmly and evenly like the doctor instructed.

‘There, all done,' he said, putting a little round sticking plaster over the hole in her vein. ‘I'll order a full count. The results should be here in a week.'

He sat back in his chair and linked his hands in his lap. He seemed to be looking her over, not just looking
at
her. Emily squirmed a little under his scrutiny.
Is he still consulting, or am I meant to be leaving? He'll get up to show me out, right? So I sit tight until then?
She frowned to herself. A few more moments passed with Emily feeling more and more awkward.

His glance momentarily passed over the ring on her finger, then he smiled. ‘There is another possibility. Could you be pregnant?'