Four Weddings: A Woman To Belong To / A Wedding in Warragurra / The Surgeon's Chosen Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal

He jerkily pulled the drawstring on his pack. ‘My life is complicated. I’ve told you that.’

‘I think you’re making it way more complicated than it needs to be.’

Each softly spoken word pierced him, hammering at everything he knew about himself. He turned to face her. She sat pale, calm and implacable, her chin jutting forward in her familiar and determined way.

He needed her to understand. Needed her to forgive him. ‘Half of me is missing. I can’t love anyone when I’m not complete myself.’

Her nostrils flared. ‘Half of you is not missing. You’re all here. You are the sum of your biological and adopted parents. Your birth parents gave you great DNA and your Australian parents gave you love and values. You’ve been blessed, Tom Bracken.’

Anger flared at her dismissal of his feelings. ‘I have a family out there somewhere that I don’t know. A heritage that is vacant.’

She didn’t flinch at his exasperation. Large eyes stared him down. ‘No one’s life is perfect. No one’s parents real or imaginary, ever live up to expectations, Tom. You’ve woven a dream around a family you want to find. But you also have a loving family in Australia you haven’t seen in two years. You have a heritage with them. A family history. Don’t turn your back on all that for a pipe dream.’

Resentment coiled in his gut as her words gnawed at him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t turned my back on my parents. Hell, they encouraged me to come here and work and to look for my mother.’

A sad smile of understanding tugged at her lips. ‘Of course they did. They love you and want to support you. They can see you’re struggling and they want you to find some peace.’

He snorted in derision. ‘Peace. How can I have peace when I don’t know if I’m Australian or Vietnamese? When I feel disconnected, no matter where I am?’

A wry expression crossed her face. ‘Hey, you don’t have to be adopted to feel disconnected or to have a million what-if questions about your life.

‘And why do you have to be one or the other? You’re both. You belong in both countries. If your mother hadn’t given you up and you’d been raised in Vietnam, you would have all these same questions about your dead father. You’d feel more Vietnamese but know part of you was Western. Either way, you’re a blend of East and West. Embrace it.’

He wanted to put his hands over his ears, like a child refusing to listen. ‘That’s too easy. My life can’t be reduced to a simple equation.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘I don’t think you have any idea of what you really have. You’ve been so lucky.’

Her words hammered him. ‘Lucky? My mother abandoned me.’ He heard the despair in his voice.

She stood up, her gait rolling with the tossing boat, and walked over to him. ‘Your mother gave you up because she loved you more than she loved herself. She gave you up so you could live.’

She put her hand on his arm, her heat seeping into him like water into parched ground. ‘War changes all the rules. You were starving, you might have been sick with cholera and the orphanage was your only chance at survival.

‘Life is a lottery, Tom. You have to make the best of what you’ve got. I got dud parents. You got stellar parents. I fought to leave my father and you’re fighting to find your mother. But you’ve been surrounded by love all your life. Don’t turn your back on it by putting your life on hold. You once told me to stop hiding and take a chance on an adult relationship. I have. Now I’m asking you to take a chance with me. I’m here and I love you.’

He hated her logic. Hated it that her words dredged up all the thoughts that plagued him every day. He shrugged off her touch, needing distance. ‘I’m actively searching for my birth mother. Just because I don’t love you doesn’t mean my life is on hold.’

She recoiled for a moment as his words had struck her like bullets. ‘I think you’re using this search for your mother as an excuse to hold people at bay. I think you’re scared.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He snapped the plastic clasps on his backpack with more force than necessary. ‘What on earth would I have to be scared about?’

Her look of pitying understanding made his stomach lurch.

She hauled in a breath. ‘I think you’re scared that Vietnam hasn’t given you the sense of completeness that you believed it would, and you feel guilty for missing Australia.’ She laced her fingers together. ‘You’ve told yourself for so long that you can’t fall in love until you find your birth mother and find the answers to all your questions about yourself. If you admit that you love me then you’ve just admitted that your search for your mother is over. And that scares the hell out of you.’

His heart pounded, threatening to expose his worst fears and strip him bare. He had to stop this conversation. He had to put an impenetrable distance between them. Had to stop her from ever thinking they could be together.

‘Bec, I never promised you love. I only ever offered you friendship. We don’t have a future together. I’m sorry you read more into it than I can give.’

A stillness settled over her. Only her eyelashes moved against her cheeks as she blinked furiously. ‘I’m a very perceptive reader, Tom.’

The words hung between them.

He blocked them out.

Suddenly she squared her shoulders as the muscles in her throat contracted hard and fast. ‘You taught me to trust again and to love. Now you need to take your own lesson and allow yourself to love. But it’s your choice and only you can make that decision. I refuse to plead for your love.’

She walked unsteadily to the door. ‘I promised Jason I would be part of the X-ray ceremony. The moment that’s over I’ll leave you to your life.’ She stepped out into the corridor, the door closing behind her.

Silence.

His breath shuddered out of his lungs and he sat down hard on the bed. His words had worked. She’d gone. He’d got exactly what he’d wanted. What he’d needed.

He closed his eyes against the image of her face.

The familiar empty space inside him, the space that had been a part of him since he’d been fifteen, abruptly expanded.

* * *

Bec stared out the window of the meeting room at the Hon Gin hospital and shuddered. Violent winds bent the coconut trees sideways and blinding rain lashed the buildings. Brown water covered the grounds of the hospital, flooding the gardens. She’d never seen rain or wind like it.

Hin joined her. ‘It’s the edge of a typhoon.’

His matter-of-fact voice surprised her. ‘A typhoon? Shouldn’t we have the windows boarded up?’

He smiled at her. ‘No, this is not bad. It is not predicted to come this way. The wind should not get any stronger.’

Bec wrapped her arms around herself as a small tree became uprooted. ‘Well, that’s reassuring.’

Hin smiled, completely missing the irony in her voice.

The rain had only increased the humidity and she dripped in her dress. Due to the importance of the occasion she couldn’t wear her Vietnamese farming clothes so she was back in Western clothing. It felt odd to have her legs and arms exposed.

‘We’re required on the podium now,’ Tom’s stern voice commanded her from behind.

All traces of affection had faded from his voice. He’d retreated behind the persona of the serious doctor. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before she turned to face him. To face the man she loved.

The man who couldn’t love her back.

Unbearably, her heart tore a little more.

She just had to get through the next six hours. In six hours she would be back in Hanoi. Alone. Only then could she collapse in a flood of tears and give in to her raw and bleeding grief. But right now she was on show and dignity was her only defence.

She walked to the podium flanked by Hin and Tom and took her seat. Hin placed himself between her and Tom. She looked out onto a sea of colour, of flowing fabrics and complex embroidery. Most women wore the ao dai, the graceful and flowing national dress of Vietnam, marking the importance of the occasion. The men wore utilitarian black trousers and white shirts.

Everyone rose to their feet. The Australian flag was hoisted with appropriate pomp and ceremony, taking its place next to the vivid red Vietnamese flag with its central golden star.

The speeches started and Hin translated in a low voice. She took a quick glance sideways at Tom, knowing he had planned to make a short speech in Vietnamese, knowing he’d worried about getting it right. He stared straight ahead through eyes surrounded by deep lines. His shoulders were straight, rigid with tension, while his hands balled into fists and rested on his thighs.