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

‘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.