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

She gagged.

Mud, trees and debris covered everything that had stood in its path in much the same way lava flowed from a volcano. A few people wandered around vaguely, shocked and confused. But mostly the village was eerily silent.

The survivors had been on the first truck.

She started to shake, her legs turning to rubber. Vietnam had claimed her son, interring him. He’d wanted to belong and now he was part of the country in a way no one could ever have imagined.

‘Tom.’ Her ragged voice echoed around her.

She started to walk forward, her chest heaving with great, racking sobs. She dragged her leg through the mud, welcoming the stabs of pain as the rest of her was numb with grief.

Ignoring Hin’s pleading warning that the area was unsafe, she started to walk up the hill alongside the mudflow’s distinct border. It looked like the photos she’d seen of areas after a natural disaster—trees cut off mid-trunk, trees stripped of all their foliage. Huts crushed flat as if they were cardboard cut-outs. No visible signs of life anywhere.

In the distance stood one lone coconut palm, its trunk marked with mud, indicating how high the flow had risen before falling away.

She continued walking.

Movement caught her eye.

She stopped and rubbed the tears from her eyes. Blinking, she took another look. Someone was sitting against the tree. Someone tall. Taller than the average Vietnamese.

She started to run, her medical kit banging into her back.

Tom. She tried to call out but hope and fear closed her throat. She dragged in another breath. ‘Tom!’

The brown figure moved and stumbled to his feet, swaying unsteadily, waving his arm above his head.

Relief competed with joy, surging through her so strongly that she almost fell over. He was alive!

Hardly aware of the rain and the mud, she scrambled up to him.

He stood before her covered in mud, brown from head to toe. Unrecognisable. Except she’d know him anywhere. She threw herself at him, holding him close, needing to feel the rise and fall of his chest against her own. ‘You’re alive.’

His arms wrapped around her, their pressure weak. He sagged against her. ‘I am.’

She lowered him down to the ground, her hands feverishly touching him, examining him for breaks, cuts and contusions. ‘I thought …’ She swallowed against the horror that had been with her since Hin had spoken the word ‘mudslide.’ ‘I thought you’d died.’

‘I couldn’t die, I had too much to live for.’ He gazed at her, his eyes filled with wonder, as if he didn’t believe she was real. ‘I was damned if I was going to die before I told you I loved you.’

I love you. Her heart soared. He loved her.

A kernel of doubt opened up. ‘Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re in shock?’

He breathed in deeply, pain contorting his face as if he was mustering every last ounce of his energy. He slowly raised his hand to her cheek. ‘Bec, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was a fool. I’d been convinced for so long that my sense of displacement, the empty space inside me, was connected to not being able to find my birth mother and her family. Of missing out on my Vietnamese culture and language. But I had it all wrong. That sense of displacement was because I hadn’t met you.’

He shuddered. ‘It took the threat of suffocation by mud for me to realise that you filled that space. You were the missing half of me. The times I’ve spent with you have been the most wonderful times of my life. With you I’ve found contentment for the very first time.’

Tears pricked her eyes. ‘But what about your search for your birth mother?’

His arm fell back as exhaustion claimed him. ‘I’ll still look but I know the chances are slim. If I don’t find her I’ll be OK with that. You were right. I have a loving family, one that I have badly ignored recently.’

She lay down next to him, holding him close. ‘I never want to be this scared ever again.’

He tried to chuckle but started to cough. ‘I got as close to death as I ever want to go. The one thing that kept me alive was you. You were with me as the mud washed over me. Your image, your voice, your fighting spirit and your love. You kept me alive, Bec. Thank you for rescuing me.’

‘I’m glad I could return the favour.’ She helped him sit up to ease the coughing. ‘You taught me to trust again. You brought me back to life. I’d existed up until then. You showed me what I was missing.’

Worried eyes scanned her face. ‘Will you spend your life with me, Bec?’

Her heart exploded with joy. ‘Absolutely.’ She hugged him tight. ‘But first I want to get you to hospital and started on antibiotics. I think you’re a prime candidate for inhalation pneumonia. Not to mention gangrene from those gashes.’

He leaned against her. ‘That can wait ten more minutes. I want to sort out a couple of other things.’

‘But, Tom …’ The serious look in his eyes silenced her.

‘I nearly died today with things left unsaid. I am not going to leave things unsaid again. I once told you I didn’t want to have children because I had no medical history. It wasn’t strictly true. You were right, I was scared. Scared of the unknown.’

He picked up her hand. ‘But, Bec, I want us to be parents. I want us to share that experience. Together we’re strong enough to deal with whatever comes our way. What do you think? Do you trust our relationship enough to have children?’

Warmth radiated through her, warming every part of her, bringing light to all the dark places. A family of her own. A family with Tom. ‘I want us to have children. I couldn’t think of anything more wonderful, but …’ She thought of Minh.

‘But what?’ His voice sounded strained.

If their relationship was to have a chance she had to take a risk. ‘I know you feel really strongly about overseas adoption but I believe we can offer a child something even your amazing parents couldn’t. We can give a child the best of East and West. I will learn Vietnamese and you can teach me how to cook.’ She bit her lip before jutting her chin forward. ‘I want us to adopt Minh.’

‘The cerebral palsy baby?’ His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. ‘Yes.’

He was silent for a few moments, his fingers tracing the length of hers, the mud on his forehead cracking along his concentration lines.

Bec held her breath.

He finally spoke. ‘Minh will have more of a history than me. His parents’ names will be on record. As he grows up he can have contact with them or with his other relatives if his parents are not alive.’ He faced her, his eyes shining. ‘I think that would be a wonderful thing to do.’

Relief flooded her and she flung her arms around him and kissed him. The taste of mud grounded her. ‘Now, will you let me get you down the mountain to Hin and to the hospital?’

He nodded slowly as if the effort was almost too much.

She stood up and pulled Tom to his feet. Looping his arm around her shoulder, she supported her man and walked him down the mountain toward their new life.

EPILOGUE (#ulink_5dfdd2a6-a0b6-5326-b6d8-bd561943906b)

TOM LEANED OVER the fence gazing out over the emerald green paddocks. The colour reminded him of Vietnam but, instead of rice, he stared at black and white cows.

A firm, work-worn hand clamped down on his shoulder. ‘It’s half an hour before Mum dishes up, son. She’s cooked the works—roast lamb, baked veggies and rhubarb crumble for dessert.’

Tom turned toward his dad’s tanned, smiling face. Kind sky-blue eyes looked at him from under a battered akubra hat. ‘Mum always cooks that when we’re heading back to Vietnam.’

His father nodded. ‘She needs to send you off with your favourite meal. Besides, Minh adores Aussie lamb and this time next year the baby will be chomping it down, too.’