Maybe Baby: One Small Miracle

‘Dear God, how can you even ask?’ he rasped.

‘I need to know. I need to hear it. I’ve wondered—doubted—for a long time.’

He shook his head, with a slow wonder. ‘I did everything for you, for us.’ Anger vibrated through every word, denial of what she’d asked.

‘You talked me into trying once more, with the last embryo—with Adam—when they’d told us both the risks. I was terrified, but you never faltered. You had to have your son, the Curran heir. That’s how it felt to me, Jared.’ She kept her voice gentle but she was pitiless. She had to know. When he didn’t answer, she went on, ‘I’d given you one of two things you’d planned for the life you wanted—Jarndirri—and you had to have the other, your son and heir from a Curran woman’s body. If the cost was my life, it didn’t seem to matter.’

In the silence, she saw a sheet of white-hot lightning rip across the sky outside the window. She lifted Melanie into her arms before the boom followed and frightened her. When the sound passed she put the baby down again and turned to look at him, saw his fingers clenching that old, worn bench so tightly, his fingers looked ready to snap.

Or maybe it was Jared that was about to snap.

She forced herself to not move to him, to not comfort him with touch, and do the talking for him. She’d waited too long to know.

‘It mattered.’ He was taut, holding onto control by a tiny thread. The struggle was so clear inside him she could almost see the straining, emotions against his will, a tug of war she’d never known existed until now, when the rope was stretched to breaking.

‘But not as much as having a son—Bryce Curran’s grandson, to legitimise your claim on Jarndirri,’ she said softly. Snip.

His shoulders pulled at the shirt as the muscles moved beneath, clenching his fists over and over, thudding the bench. ‘You never told me how scared you were. I thought you wanted a baby more than anything. I thought it would make you happy. You were so lost after the last time.’

Understanding flashed through her at the muttered words; they made sense. Yes, he’d wanted a son, but he’d thought it was what she wanted, and she hadn’t told him.

It was only now she wondered: had she begun to withdraw from Jared emotionally even before Adam’s death? Had she expected him to know how she felt without telling him, and then blamed him for not seeing her terror?

Tentative, unsure, she said softly, ‘But when the doctor said it was dangerous, you didn’t hesitate for a moment.’

He shrugged, shook his head. ‘It made no sense to me. I didn’t realise I’d.’

‘You never knew you’d have to sacrifice anything for my sake? Is that what you thought?’

Snap. As if she’d seen that thread break, he whirled round on her at last, his eyes burning bright and dark. ‘I thought they were wrong. How could we have everything else, but be unable to have one single child? How could a woman as strong as you, as perfect as you, almost die doing what millions of women do every day?’

She frowned at the intensity with which he spoke—as if her flaw insulted him. ‘Millions of women still die every year in childbirth.’

He shuddered. ‘Not you, not you,’ he muttered beneath his breath.

‘It’s a danger to all women,’ she said quietly, wondering why her imperfection was such an impossibility to him. ‘I got an infection when I was twelve, Jared. It happens. It could have affected my brain or heart. I could have died then. I have to live with what it did do to me.’

‘Don’t say it,’ he snarled. ‘Don’t talk about it!’

‘I have to. This is my reality now. I can’t have children. ‘

He strode to her, grabbing her by her shoulders, eyes blazing with light. ‘There’s a way, Anna. It’s not impossible. We can—’

Unable to bear hearing what she knew he had planned, she had to deflect him. ‘There is no “we”.’ She shook him off, gently but with finality. ‘You can’t keep living the dream for us both, Jared. I don’t want to live it any more.’

‘You gave me your word—whatever I want,’ he growled, low and intense.

She forced a shrug. ‘If I have Melanie, if Rosie wants us to adopt her, I’ll stay—but I won’t want to be here. I won’t want to be your wife, and I don’t want to live here any more.’

‘I refuse to believe it,’ he grated out. ‘It’s always been us, Anna. It’ll always be you and me, here at Jarndirri.’

‘No.’ Aching, she stepped back. ‘There’s no “us” now—and there never will be while your heart and soul is on Jarndirri.’

Now he frowned. ‘Why not?’

She tried to think of something to say to convince him—he wouldn’t listen to the truth—but eventually she shrugged and said, ‘I lost my mother here, when I was only four. My grandpa Curran died here a year later, and my dad when I was twenty-three. I lost five babies here. Adam’s body is here.’ She bit her lip. ‘Don’t you get it, Jared? This place is my pain, my past. I need to find a future away from here. I need to find a way to be happy, and it isn’t here.’

‘But you know I can’t just up and leave …’ He closed his eyes. ‘You don’t just mean Jarndirri, do you? I’m also your pain, your past. I remind you of all you lost.’

‘Yes,’ she said, softly, sadly.

‘And you’re not willing to fight for us, to make things better, to be happy here with me.’

Oh, why did he have to make this so hard? Her eyes stung and burned. ‘What is there to fight for? You’ve been fighting for a dream that never had substance … at least, not with me.’ He wavered in her vision as tears rose unbidden. ‘Let me go, Jared. Let me find the life and person I want to be. Take Jarndirri. I don’t want any part of it.’

‘No.’ Without warning he turned on her, sneering lips, dead-white face. ‘Keep your blood money. I won’t assuage your guilt. This place can fall to ruin before I’ll take a bloody cent from you, or a single acre of this place.’

The ball had been hit right out of the park; the arrow had hit the bull’s-eye. She’d wanted him to take the place and continue her father’s dreams, so she could leave without regret.

Without guilt.

She flushed and wheeled away. ‘Then we’ll sell it in the divorce proceedings, and take half each. It was left to us both. It should be enough for you to buy a smaller place, or bring Mundabah Flats to its former glory.’

‘I’ll never go back there.’

There it was again, that deep-waters-covering-murky-depths tone she’d heard so often, but she’d never connected it to any one thing before. But this was the second time he’d spoken that way about Mundabah. ‘Why not?’ she asked slowly, digging in what she was certain was the right hole at last.

He waved a hand in frozen dismissal. ‘I’d rather work as a jackaroo on the worst drought-ridden property in the state than go back. My mother and her failure of a husband are welcome to it.’

‘Why?’ she pressed.

His eyes flashed. ‘Don’t go there, Anna.’

She laughed, half incredulous, half pitying. ‘Why, what will you do to me, freeze me out again? Refuse to kiss me? I meant what I said just now. I’m going to divorce you, Jared.’

His face had stilled, like a marble carving, beautiful and cold. ‘You always were a pitiful poker player, showing your hand too early. If nothing I can do will change your mind, if I’m losing the life I want, I have no incentive at all to tell those little white lies to the adoption authorities, do I?’

Anna felt all the blood drain from her face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JARED watched Anna sway in her seat, her eyes blank out with devastation, and he hated himself for the lie he’d told. But if she knew he’d go through with the adoption, she’d divorce him after she had what she wanted, and leave without a backward glance.

He slammed the emotional lid down on his conscience. This was the fight of his life. He had to be heartless, not rush to be her hero for once, or he’d lose her.

Not an option.

‘Well?’ He kept his tone cold, without mercy.