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

Everything was exactly as Gus remembered—the gentle undulating countryside, the rich red soil, the endless sea of feathery mauve plumes on top of the waving stalks of cane. He was caught by an unexpected slug of nostalgia.

He remembered the first time he’d made this journey at the age of sixteen, slouched beside his sister in the back of his parents’ station wagon. Back then, they were both furious about their father’s transfer to the Bay, hating that he’d dragged them away from their city school and their friends.

They’d sulked and squabbled throughout the entire journey from Brisbane…until they’d crested the last rise…and the Bay had lain before them in all its singular, perfect beauty.

Remembering his first sight of the beach town that had been his home for two magical years, Gus felt a ripple of excitement. His nostrils twitched, already anticipating the briny scent of the sea and the tang of sunscreen. He could almost feel the sand, soft and warm under his feet, and the sun’s burning heat on his bare shoulders.

He could practically hear the rolling thump and rush of the surf and, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself remembering the out-of-this-world thrill of riding a board down the glassy face of a breaking wave.

He’d loved this place. Why on earth had he taken so long to come back?

He turned to Freya. ‘I bet Nick loves living here.’

‘Oh, he does. No doubt about that.’

Most of her face was hidden by sunglasses, but Gus saw the awkward pucker of her mouth and he knew she was nervous, possibly even more nervous than he was.

They hadn’t talked much on the plane, mainly because a nosy middle-aged woman who’d sat next to them had tried to join in every conversation.

He’d learned, however, that Nick was staying at Poppy’s place while Freya was away, but that Freya and the boy normally lived in a flat attached to an art gallery. They’d agreed that Gus would stay at the Sugar Bay Hotel.

‘I suppose you’ve warned Poppy to expect me?’ he asked.

‘Actually, no,’ Freya said, surprising him. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’ She chewed at her lip.

‘Is there a reason you haven’t told her? Does she still have a problem with me?’

Not quite smiling, Freya shook her head. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself. She wouldn’t have been able to keep the news to herself. She might have told Nick about you, and got him all worked up.’

It was understandable, Gus supposed, given how restless and on edge he’d felt ever since he’d learned about his son. ‘So how do you want to handle this? Will I go straight to the hotel and wait to be summoned?’

They’d come to a junction in the road and Freya concentrated on giving right of way to oncoming traffic before she turned.

When this was accomplished, she answered Gus’s question. ‘Nick’s playing football this afternoon and I thought it might be a good idea if you went to the game.’ Quickly she added, ‘It would be a more relaxed atmosphere.’

At first Gus was too surprised to speak. All day he’d been trying to imagine meeting his son, and he’d always pictured an awkward introduction indoors with Poppy and Freya hovering anxiously over the whole proceedings. A football match was the last thing he’d expected, but the idea of meeting Nick at a relaxed social event appealed.

‘That’s smart thinking,’ he told her. ‘What kind of football does Nick play?’

‘Rugby league.’

Gus swallowed against the rapid constriction in his throat. There’d been a time when he’d lived to play rugby league. He’d loved it almost as much as surfing. ‘How can Nick play league in his condition? It’s such a tough game.’

‘I know.’ Freya shrugged. ‘I thought the doctors would put a stop to it, but they said he’s fine to play while his medication’s still working.’

‘That’s amazing.’

‘Except…as I told you, the medication has a time limit.’

Gus scowled. ‘So when will you tell him who I am, and why I’m here?’

‘I don’t think we can talk about that sort of thing at the game. We should go back to my place.’

Her place.

Unreasonably, that cold feeling of exclusion encircled Gus again. Freya and Nick had a home where they’d lived as a special unit for all these years. Without him.

It was only then that he realised they were cresting the last rise—and suddenly there was the Bay lying below them, even more beautiful than he remembered.

Considerately, Freya stopped the car so he could take in the view. The small town hugged the pristine curve of pale yellow sand strung between two green headlands that reached out like arms to embrace the sparkling, rolling sea.

‘Wow.’ He hadn’t dared to hope that it might still be the sleepy seaside village he remembered. ‘It hasn’t changed.’

‘Not too much.’

‘I was worried the beach would be crawling with tourists by now, or spoiled by developers.’

‘There are a lot more houses.’ Freya waved to the crosshatching of streets and rooftops that stretched back from the beachfront. ‘And there are new blocks of units on The Esplanade.’

She pointed out a handful of tall buildings that stood, boldly out of place, near the shops overlooking the sea. ‘The local councillors have been very strict, though. They won’t allow any building taller than six floors.’

‘Good thinking.’

Disconnected memories came rushing back. Eating fish and chips on the beach straight from the paper they were wrapped in. Watching the flashes of summer lightning out to sea. Surfing the waves and feeling at one with the forces of nature, with the whole universe.

That last summer, which he’d forever thought of as Freya’s summer.

Gus felt as if a thorn had pierced his heart.

Freya started up the car again and, as they headed down the hill, he saw the house his parents had owned, perched on a clifftop overlooking the bay. Lower down, they reached the suburban streets where many of their friends had lived, and then the high school, with the new addition of an impressive brick gymnasium.

Neither Gus nor Freya spoke as they continued on two blocks beyond the school to the football field ringed by massive banyan trees.

Gus stared through the windscreen and his throat was tighter than ever as he glimpsed the grassy sports oval between the trees. He saw the white timber goalposts, the young boys in colourful jerseys, the rows of parked cars and the players’ friends and families gathered along the sidelines, or sitting on folding chairs in the shade.

For two happy years, this had been his world.

Now it was his son’s world.

The picture swam before him and he was forced to blink.

Freya turned off the engine.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

‘I’m a bit shaky.’

Gus nodded. Shaky was exactly how he felt. This was such a big moment. Huge. Almost as momentous and huge as getting married, or witnessing a birth. Twelve years too late, he was about to become a father.