A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle: A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

Over the years, he’d blotted out Freya’s sudden appearance on the St Lucia campus, but he couldn’t deny that he’d never felt comfortable about the last time they’d met.

Now, she was walking away from him, leaving the walking track and hurrying across the velvety lawn to the rocks that bordered the foreshore. By the time Gus reached her, she’d pulled tissues from a woven shoulder bag and was blowing her nose.

‘We have to talk about this,’ he said.

‘Of course. That’s why we’re here.’ She spoke with quiet resignation.

They found a flat rock to sit on—side by side, looking out to sea—and it was uncannily like old times, except that, unlike the pounding surf in Sugar Bay, this sea was flat and calm. And they were facing west now, rather than east, so the setting sun was suspended inches above the horizon like a giant glowing balloon.

Freya shoved the tissues back into her bag, then drew an elaborately deep breath and let it out very slowly.

Despite his rage and frustration, Gus couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked, sitting on the rock beside the sea.

She directed her steady gaze his way, giving him the full effect of her darkly lashed aquamarine eyes. ‘Do you remember that day I came to see you at university?’

‘Of course.’

‘I was, honestly, planning to tell you that I was pregnant.’

‘But you didn’t say a thing about it. Not a word.’ He fought to speak calmly. ‘Why?’

She dropped her gaze. ‘It’s hard to explain now, after such a long time. I know I was very young and immature back then. I was totally freaked by the whole university scene.’

The wind plucked at her hair and she caught a strand and tucked it behind her ear. To his dismay, Gus found himself noticing the delicate shape of her ear and the small hole pierced in the middle of her neat pale lobe.

‘The whole journey to Brisbane was such a big deal for me,’ she said. ‘I had to travel such a long way from the Bay on the train, and I had to get up at something like four o’clock in the morning. And I had morning sickness, so I was pretty fragile. Then, when I got to Brisbane, I had to catch the bus out to St Lucia. When I arrived there, and the university was so—’

She waved her hands, searching for the word.

‘Intimidating?’

‘Yes. So huge and important-looking. All those sandstone buildings and columns and courtyards.’

Gus nodded. It was incredibly easy, now, to imagine how a girl from a sleepy beach village had felt, but he’d been young, too. Looking back, he suspected that he had, quite possibly, been insensitive.

Freya pouted. ‘I’d told you I was coming, so I thought you’d skip a lecture to see me. But I had to wait around for ages for you to come out of the lecture hall and then, when you did, you were surrounded by a tribe of adoring women.’

Gus felt his neck redden as he remembered. ‘Hardly a tribe. And there were other guys in the group.’

She dismissed this with a sharp laugh. ‘I was naïve, I guess, but I got such a shock to see how you’d changed so quickly. After all, it was only about six weeks since I’d seen you.’

‘I couldn’t have been too different, surely?’

She lifted her hands, palms up. ‘Believe me, Gus, you were different in every way. You had this scholarly air. And you were so full of how awesome university was. You couldn’t stop talking about your college and your lecturers, your career plans. After six weeks at uni, you were going to single-handedly save the Third World.’

Gus swallowed uncomfortably, knowing she was right.

‘And those girls were such snobs,’ Freya said. ‘Designer jeans, masses of jewellery, perfect hair and make-up. I hated the way they looked down their noses at me.’

‘I’m sure they didn’t.’

Freya rolled her eyes as if he hadn’t a clue. ‘They made it clear that I had no right to be there, chasing after you.’

Gus remembered how Freya had looked that day, dressed in her hippie, beach girl get-up like something out of the seventies, in a batik wrap-around skirt, a silver anklet complete with bells and brown leather sandals.

He’d thought she’d looked fine. She was Freya, after all. But he could guess how those city girls might have made her feel. No doubt they’d used that particularly sinister feminine radar that sent out signals undetected by males.

Why hadn’t he been more perceptive? More protective of his girlfriend?

Even to him, it no longer made sense.

But hang on. He might not have shown exemplary sensitivity, but Freya still should have told him she was pregnant.

Gus turned to her. ‘How could you have been pregnant? We took precautions.’

She lifted an eyebrow and the look she sent him was decidedly arch. ‘If you remember, you weren’t exactly an expert at using a condom.’

He groaned, muttered “Idiot” under his breath.

Face aflame, he looked out to sea where the last of the sun’s crimson light was melting into the darkening water. ‘If you’d told me, Freya, if you’d given me a chance, I would have faced up to my responsibilities.’

‘I suppose you would have.’ Her fingers began to twist the woven straps of her shoulder bag. ‘But you’d told me you didn’t want children for ages.’

‘That didn’t mean—’ Gus grimaced and shook his head.

‘I didn’t want you to see me as a responsibility. I wanted to be so much more to you, Gus, but when I saw you that day I lost all my confidence. I knew what becoming a father would have cost you. Your father had such high hopes for you. And you had big dreams too. A baby would have wrecked everything you had planned.’

‘I’d have found a way.’

Her steady gaze challenged him. ‘Be honest. Your father organised a transfer back to Brisbane, just so he and your mother could support you through uni. You were their eldest son, the jewel in their crowns. They’d never have forgiven you. And how would you have felt if you’d had to leave your studies to earn enough money to maintain a family?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gus said glumly. ‘I wasn’t given the opportunity to find out.’

It was ages before Freya said softly, ‘Well, OK, I think we’ve established that I made a bad call.’ She dropped her gaze, but not before he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. But sometimes mistakes are made with the best of intentions.’

Gus let out a heavy sigh and wondered to what degree his overbearing parents had swayed Freya’s decision. The irony was that as soon as he’d graduated he hadn’t gone into the kind of high profile executive position his father had planned for him. He’d quietly rebelled and gone off to Africa instead. Bursting with high ideals, he’d dived into aid work.

For the next nine years he’d been committed to doing good work for strangers and, sure, they’d really needed help. But, all that time, there’d been a son who’d needed him back in Australia.

The thought of that boy made him want to cry out with rage. Despair. Self-pity. Where was the morality in trying to save the world when he’d contributed absolutely zilch to his own son’s welfare?

The worst of it was that Freya had tried to tell him.

She’d turned to him in trouble and, instead of becoming the prince who rescued her, he’d let her down. Very badly, it seemed.

Oh, he’d gone through the motions that day. Resisting the crass option to sneak her back to his college room for a quick tumble between the sheets, he’d taken Freya back into the city on the bus and splashed out on an expensive supper at a posh café overlooking the Brisbane River. But throughout the meal she’d been strained.

Looking back, he could see that he’d been far too impressed with himself as a student. Too caught up in his new and exciting world. He probably hadn’t given Freya a chance to get a word in edgeways.

Guiltily, he remembered that he’d been rather relieved to put her back on the train to Sugar Bay. It was only when he’d walked along the railway platform, keeping up with her carriage as the train lumbered off, that he’d seen the tears streaming down her face.

Too late, he’d understood that he’d disappointed her. And now, way too late, he realised that he’d been so self-absorbed he’d left no room for her to offload her dilemma. He’d been a complete ass.

The big question was—if he had known about the baby, would he have made room in his life for Freya? Happily? Without resentment?

He’d loved her, sure. That summer with her was his sweetest, most poignant memory. But, in that first term at university, he’d loved the idea of Freya waiting back in Sugar Bay far more than the reality of her intruding into his busy new life.

Gus sat in silence, mustering his thoughts while he listened to the soft lapping of the sea. After a bit, he said, ‘You stopped answering my letters.’

‘We decided it was better to make a clean break.’

‘We?’ For a moment he imagined she was talking about another boyfriend. Then he remembered Poppy. Freya’s mother had always been more like her sister or her best friend than her mother. ‘I suppose Poppy was in on this too. She very effectively blocked my phone calls.’

‘She was a tower of strength.’

Oh, yeah, she would have been, Gus thought grimly. Poppy would have been in her element. She’d never been able to hang on to a man for long, but she would have clung for dear life to Freya and the promise of a grandchild. She would have aided and abetted Freya’s decision to end it with him and raise the baby alone.

So it boiled down to the fact that his relationship with Freya had just faded away. She hadn’t answered him and he, distracted by his bright new world, had simply let her go.

In other words, he, Freya and Poppy had made separate choices twelve years ago, and now they were paying the price.

Rather, the boy, Nick, was paying the price.

Gus looked up at the darkening sky—navy-blue, almost black—and he saw the evening star, already shining and sitting alone in the heavens like a bright solitaire diamond.

Staring at it, he felt shock like a fist slamming into his solar plexus. Hell. He still didn’t know why Freya had contacted him so urgently. He’d been hung up about what happened in the past, but hadn’t she said that her son had a problem right here and now?

A matter of life and death?

He bit back a horrified groan. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? You still haven’t told me why you need my help.’

To Gus’s dismay, Freya seemed to slump beside him as if her strength had suddenly deserted her. He reached out, wanting to draw her against him, to rest her head against his shoulder, but his hand hovered inches from her. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

A sob tore from her throat and she covered her face with her hands.

A hot knife of fear sliced through Gus. For an instant he felt an urge to flee, to refuse to listen to her bad news. He couldn’t bear the tension.

He forced himself to speak. ‘Is…is the boy sick?’

Freya nodded and the knife in his guts twisted sharper, deeper. Life and death. Terror chilled his blood. Was his son dying?

His throat tightened painfully. He hadn’t known it was possible to care so instantly and painfully for a boy he’d never met.

Freya, sensing Gus’s distress, lifted her head. Hands clenched in her lap, she sat very still, willing herself to be strong. This was the point of no return, the worst part of her mission. She couldn’t fail her boy now.

So many times she’d thought about what she would say to Gus at this moment, and she’d searched for the wisest and kindest starting point. Each time she’d come up with one answer. She had to tell him the hard news straight up.

This wasn’t a time for breaking things gently. To pussyfoot around would be both cruel and unhelpful.

But…oh, God. She felt as if she were plunging from the highest possible diving board into the tiniest thimble of safety.

She thought of Nick again—her gorgeous, talented rascal of a boy—and she knew she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she said, quietly but clearly, so there could be no mistake. ‘Nick’s kidneys are failing and he needs a transplant.’

It was almost dark but Freya didn’t miss Gus’s reaction. It was like watching a man in agony turn to stone.

Horrified, she began to shake and she closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of his distress. I’m sorry, Gus. I wouldn’t have done this to you if I’d had a choice. But I had no choice. I’m so, so sorry.

The awful silence seemed to stretch for ever. Somewhere overhead fruit bats screeched and chased each other, tattered black wings flapping noisily as they raced on their nightly raid of local gardens.

It was a full minute before Gus spoke and, when he did, his voice was dull and lifeless, dropping into the tropical night like a handful of pebbles thudding onto sand.

‘I guess you’re on the hunt for a donor. That’s why you need me.’

Freya tried to answer but when she opened her mouth a noisy sob broke from her. Blindly, she groped in her bag for her tissues.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she spluttered. ‘I know this is the worst possible way to find out.’

‘You’re not wrong.’ His tone was disturbingly unreadable.

She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle another sob. She couldn’t imagine how Gus felt, but she knew it would be beyond heartbreaking to be told one minute that he had an eleven-year-old son and then…Oh, by the way, we’re hoping you can give the boy your kidney.

Gus couldn’t help but be shocked and angry but, when he spoke, his tone was almost expressionless. ‘I assume you’re not a suitable donor.’

Freya shook her head. ‘Poppy and I both wanted to help, but we’re the wrong blood type.’ The breeze blowing across the water turned chilly and she shivered.

‘We’re both type B and Nick is O, so we knew that you must be O as well. Apparently, type B people can receive type O kidneys, but people who have O blood can only receive a kidney from another type O donor.’

Beside her, Gus was moving, lurching to his feet. In a heartbeat he’d shifted from the rock onto the grass. When Freya tried to follow, he held up his hands, warning her to stay put.

‘Give me a moment,’ he said stiffly. ‘I just need to…to get my head around this.’

‘Of course.’

He began to pace back and forth, jaw tight, hands thrust deep in his pockets, his dark hair lifted by the wind. Abruptly, he stopped pacing and stood glaring out to sea.

Freya opened her mouth to say something—anything that might serve as a peace offering—but she had no idea what to say. She knew Gus was battling a storm of emotions and he needed space. Head space. Emotional space.

She could only pray that, somewhere within that turmoil, he could find it in his heart to help Nick.

Suddenly, he whirled on her, his face pale, eyes wild, arms stiff by his sides, fists clenched.

‘Gus,’ she said hesitantly, ‘are you OK?’

Oh, God, what a stupid, stupid question.

His cold laugh mocked her. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ He prowled closer, his body taut as a hunter’s, his expression dark and menacing. ‘Of course I’m not OK. I’m mad, Freya. I’m mad with you. With Poppy. With a crazy universe that lets this happen to my kid. To anybody’s kid.’

She hadn’t moved from the rock but she realised now that she’d drawn her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, turning her body into a defensive ball.

She’d never seen Gus like this. ‘I don’t blame you for being mad with me.’

‘Hell. If this hadn’t happened, you’d never have told me about the boy, would you? You only made contact with me now as a last resort.’

What could Freya say? It was the awful truth. Things might have been different if Gus hadn’t been away in the depths of Africa for nine years…or if her own father hadn’t turned up, out of the blue, proving that family reunions could be disastrous…

‘Damn it, Freya, if you or Poppy had been able to help Nick, you’d have let me go my entire lifetime without ever knowing my son existed.’

She shook her head, but Gus had already spun away again. He’d had too many shocks at once and he was hurt, deeply hurt.

She wished she hadn’t had to do this to him. Wished she’d made wiser choices earlier. But, even if she had been braver, even if everything had turned out miraculously and she and Gus had been married and raised Nick in a perfect fairy tale family, she couldn’t have stopped Nick getting sick.

Gus still would have faced this challenge.

But of course he had every right to be angry. She half-expected him to grab a rock and hurl it into the sea.

Instead, he slammed a balled fist into his palm, then stood, hands on hips, breathing deeply, dragging in lungfuls of fresh sea air.

Watching him, Freya felt a band of pain encircle her heart, squeezing painfully. Her vision blurred.

She reached for the tissues again. She’d been tense for weeks and now she felt stretched to breaking point. She still didn’t know if Gus would help her.

Was she asking too much of him?

Poor man. He’d had such a lot to deal with—the death of his wife and the demands of Africa and, more recently, managing big remote area projects. And they were just the few things she knew about—heaven knew what else he had on his plate. And now, her news about Nick must have hit him like a bombshell exploding in his face.

She remembered how she’d felt a couple of months ago on the day the doctor had given her the bad news. Heartsick and desperate, she’d paced along the beach and she’d soon found that she couldn’t stop. She’d forgotten to take a hat but she didn’t care. She’d walked the entire length of Sugar Bay and then she’d climbed over the headland and onto the next bay and the bay after that.

She’d come home sunburnt and exhausted but she still hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Actually, she hadn’t slept properly since that day, and even when she had slept she’d either had nightmares about losing Nick or dreams in which Nick was cured and well, only to wake to cruel reality. She’d lived with gnawing fear as her constant companion.

Now, Gus was turning back to her once more, his expression grave yet purposeful. Freya wondered if this meant he’d reached a decision and nervous chills chased each other down her arms.

Her stomach bunched into terrified knots but she forced her facial muscles to relax. She didn’t want to let Gus see how frightened she was.

As he approached her, she scrambled stiffly to her feet and, to her surprise, he held out his hand to help her down from the rock.

Freya held her breath.

‘Relax, Freya. I’m more than willing to help Nick, if I can.’

A massive wave of relief washed over her.

She knew that at some point in the very near future she’d be ecstatic and dancing with gratitude, but right now she couldn’t manage words of more than one syllable. ‘Thanks.’

‘Hey, you’re shaking,’ Gus said.

He was still holding her hand and, for a moment, she thought he was going to put his arms around her. Her mind took a ridiculous leap, instantly imagining his embrace and her head cradled against his broad shoulder.

Oh, heavens, how she longed to be there, in the protective shelter of Gus Wilder’s arms, whispering her thanks while she drew strength and comfort from him. She could almost imagine the remembered scent of his skin mingled with the fragrance of the tropical night.

But of course Gus had no intention of hugging her. How silly to have even thought of it. She’d surrendered that privilege a very long time ago.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Your fingers are practically frozen.’ In a purely practical gesture, he rubbed her fingers between his warm palms and she loved it, even though she shouldn’t. ‘You should go inside, Freya. You’re dressed for summer.’

‘I didn’t think it ever got cold in Darwin.’

‘Sure it does. Every year there are at least three days when Darwinians have to put their jackets on.’

He’d almost cracked a joke. Surely that was a good sign.

Gus let her hand go and they walked side by side across the grass to the well-lit concrete path that led back to the hotel.

‘So,’ he said briskly, ‘I guess you’d better tell me what you know about Nick’s condition. I’d like to be fully in the picture.’

He deserved no less, and she’d almost learned to talk about Nick’s illness dispassionately, the way the doctors did, hiding the personal terror that lurked behind every word.

‘It started with a bad case of stomach flu. Vomiting and a high fever. I realised Nick was getting dehydrated, so I took him to the doctor, to our local GP. He took one look at him and rushed him to hospital, to emergency.’

She couldn’t help shuddering, reliving the horror. ‘Nick seemed to make a good recovery from that, but there were follow-up blood tests, and that’s when possible problems showed up.’ A sigh escaped her. ‘So we were sent to Brisbane then, to see a specialist, and they discovered that Nick had a disease called global glomerulosclerosis.’

‘That’s a mouthful.’

‘Yes. I’m afraid I’ve had plenty of practice at saying it. Nick calls it his global warning.’

‘What a champ.’ Gus’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘It takes courage to make a joke about something so personally threatening.’

‘He’s been incredibly brave.’ Freya blinked back tears. ‘I’ve been a mess. So scared. I used to burst into tears without warning. Day and night. But then I saw how strong Nick was and I realised I had to toughen up for his sake.’

Gus remembered young mothers in Africa, broken-hearted, watching their children grow weaker while they covered their fear behind a mask of stoicism. He hated to think of Freya bearing the same kind of pain for her son—their son.

‘Basically,’ Freya continued, ‘this disease means that Nick’s kidneys are filling up with scar tissue. Eventually it leads to complete kidney failure.’

She stopped walking. They were almost back at the hotel and the carefree sounds of laughter and music from a jukebox spilled into the night.

‘He’s been on medication for the past couple of months,’ she said. ‘And it’s working really well. He feels fine but, unfortunately, the medication will only work for a limited time.’ She looked up and met Gus’s stern gaze. ‘That’s why he needs a transplant.’

‘Poor kid.’ Gus’s throat worked furiously. ‘Does he understand?’

Freya nodded and, despite her tension, she smiled. ‘On the surface, he doesn’t seem too worried. He feels fine and he doesn’t need dialysis. That’s a huge plus. The drugs have allowed him to carry on as usual. He can still swim and play sport, take his dog for a run.’

‘He has a dog?’

‘Yes. An ugly little mix of terrier and heaven knows what from the Animal Shelter. Nick adores him. Calls him Urchin. They share every spare minute Nick isn’t at school. They’re the best of mates.’

Gus’s eyes took on a misty faraway look and Freya was almost certain that he was picturing the boy and the dog, running on the beach at Sugar Bay. The fond warmth in his eyes made her throat ache.

Next moment, Gus blinked and the soft light was gone. His expression was sober again. ‘So he understands about needing a transplant?’

‘Yes.’ She gave an imitation of Nick’s typical shrug. ‘But he doesn’t dwell on it.’

‘The benefits of being young, I guess.’ Gus dropped his gaze and sighed.

‘We don’t talk about the alternative,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve promised him I’ll find a donor.’

‘Have you tried elsewhere?’

Freya looked away. ‘We’re on a waiting list, but the doctor said that you were our best chance, Gus.’

He nodded grimly. ‘And the time frame?’

‘The sooner he has the transplant, the better.’

‘Let’s hope I can help then.’

‘It would be—’ Freya’s mouth trembled. She wanted to shower Gus with gratitude. This was such a huge thing he was offering—to submit to an operation, to hand over a vital organ.

But her instincts told her that he wouldn’t welcome such effusiveness from her. He was still shocked and angry. Just the same, she had to say something. ‘I…I’m so sorry to land this on you. I know it’s a terrible shock and a huge imposition, and I—’