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“Thanks.” The house was light and bright, reflecting the sun and the sea, with hardly a straight line or a sharp angle in the place. After he and Maree had split, he’d needed a place where he could feel positive about the future. A home he could grow into.
But as he led the way down the hall to the kitchen, Maeve amended her verdict. “Almost perfect. So far I haven’t seen a single plant.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see her eyes sparkling. “And you won’t. I always forget to water them, so now I don’t bother trying to grow any.” He opened a bar fridge in the family room, displaying a dozen types of specialty beer, plus several bottles of white wine and different types of water. “What’ll you have?”
“Something nonalcoholic with ice, thanks.”
Will made her a tonic and lime juice, then chose a Red Dog lager for himself, and they sat at the patio table. Maeve flipped her clipboard open and proceeded to question him on everything from his favorite color to his astrological sign. Her dark-brown eyes studied him with such intense concentration, she might have been trying to read the convolutions of his brain.
And when she bent her head to note his answers with green-stained fingers, Will studied her. Although she wore no makeup, her tanned skin was smooth and her vivid coloring a collection of contrasts: dark hair, white teeth, deep-red lips. Her mouth was wide and full, curling at the corners in a cupid’s bow. Her large eyes full of laughter a few minutes ago, were now serious.
“Do you have any siblings?” She brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek, drawing his attention to the translucent moonstones that studded her lobes.
After a moment of silence she glanced up expectantly, and he realized he’d forgotten the question.
“Siblings,” she repeated.
“Two sisters and a brother.”
Her gaze remained fixed on his. “What number child are you?”
“I’m the eldest.”
“Star sign?”
“Capricorn.”
She frowned down at her clipboard, muttering, “Capricorn and Libra—bad mix.”
“Who’s a Libran?”
She didn’t answer, and he smiled to see a blush creep into her cheeks. “Do you believe in astrology?” he asked.
“Not really.” Her gaze sharpened. “I mean, yes.”
Will drank from his beer. “‘Our fate lies not in the stars, but in ourselves.’ Or words to that effect. I feel I know you already, through your father.”
“Oh?” She put down her pen and eyed him warily.
“For instance, I know you like pancakes topped with fresh fruit for breakfast on Sunday morning. And that you use rainwater to wash your hair.” His fingers flexed as he found himself wondering if her hair was as smooth and soft as it appeared.
“What else did he say about me?”
Will racked his brain, and couldn’t think of anything she might object to. “Nothing personal. No deep dark secrets.”
Maeve appeared relieved, and his fascination with her grew. But this session was about him, and she hadn’t forgotten that. “So,” she said, going back to her clipboard, “who was next—your brother or a sister?”
“My sister Julie. But why? What does my childhood have to do with this garden?”
“You never know,” she replied, writing down his answer.
He leaned forward, trying unsuccessfully to read her handwriting upside down. “Are you licensed to practice psychiatry in this state?”
Her mouth twitched, but she ignored his question and went on. “Did you grow up in the city or the country?”
“I grew up here on the peninsula on a small mixed farm. When I was ten, we moved into the town of Mornington.” Will shifted in his chair, crossed one leg over his knee. “What about your family? Art mentioned he has a son overseas.”
“My brother, Bill, lives in New Mexico. He’s an astronomer.”
“Is he searching the galaxy for extraterrestrial life forms?” Will joked.
“Yes,” Maeve answered seriously. “Now, when you were on the farm you must have played outside a lot. Do you remember the feelings you associate with being outdoors at an early age?”
He was about to make a flippant remark, when he stopped and thought twice. Perhaps the smell of the freshly mown grass called forth memories, or maybe it was Maeve’s gentle prodding, but suddenly the past came back in a flash of vivid imagery. That time in his life before his father died. Before he’d had to grow up too quickly.
“Freedom,” he said at last. “I could go anywhere, do anything I liked, from dawn to dusk. My brother and sisters and I roamed the beaches and the paddocks for miles around. We weren’t restricted by time or place or fear of strangers. Freedom and security—they were what I felt. Two rare and precious commodities. But they’re gone from today’s world. You can’t get them back.”
“I can try,” she said.
He eyed her skeptically. “If you can create the illusion of childhood in a garden, I’ll believe you really are a magician.”
“The magic comes from within,” she said quietly. “You have it, too. Everyone does. You just need to find it.”
She paused to sip her drink, the melting ice cubes tinkling faintly as she lifted her glass. To Will, the curve of her throat seemed at that moment both unbearably vulnerable and unimaginably strong. Magic within? He didn’t think so. Not him.
She lowered her glass and repositioned her pen above the paper. “Did you have a special place you liked to go to as a child? A place that was yours and yours alone?”
“Why are you asking all these questions?” All of a sudden he felt vulnerable himself.
“I told you. I want to know you.” Her huge dark eyes were hypnotic; her smooth low voice was mesmerizing.
“There was a place,” he admitted slowly, “at the bottom of the garden where jasmine grew over the fence. The vines were wildly overgrown—they must have been at least six feet thick. Next to the fence I hollowed out a cubby for myself. On hot days it was cool and filled with green light. Perfumed by the jasmine.” He chuckled. “I would pretend I was an Arabian sheik living in my tent at an oasis. My golden retriever was my camel.” He threw her another skeptical glance. “Not the sort of landscaping you had in mind, I’m sure.”
“You’d be surprised.” She closed her clipboard. “I’ll just go take a few more measurements. I want to check out those lilacs by the brick wall.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Will said, rising. Then, through the open sliding doors came the sound of the door chimes.
“Saved by the bell—again.” Her mouth hinted at a smile, then she strode off across the lawn.
Will went to open the front door and found Ida, his oldest friend and practically his best mate, on the doorstep. With her auburn hair and creamy complexion, Ida would have been a knockout if not for the burn scars that marred the right side of her face, puckering the skin from the outer corner of her eye all the way down to her chin.
“Hi, Will. You’re not busy, are you?” she asked, stepping past him into the entry hall.
“No.” Even after all these years, Will never saw the scars without experiencing a stab of guilt.
Today Ida looked slighter than usual in a slim gray skirt and white fitted blouse.
“Good, because I need to talk.”
“Of course. Come through to the patio.”
They stopped in the kitchen to get Will another beer and to pour Ida a glass of chardonnay.
“Can I have some mineral water with that?” she asked, rummaging in Will’s pantry for pretzels. “I’ve been feeling a little queasy all week. Must have a tummy bug.”
Will handed her the wine spritzer. “What’s up?”
“Wait till we’re sitting.” Carrying her glass and the bag of pretzels, Ida led the way out the sliding glass doors to the patio table. When they were seated, she took a sip of her drink, put her glass down and looked Will straight in the eye. “I’ve decided to have a child.”
Will choked on his beer. “What?”
“I said, I’m going to have a child. On my own.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Ida waved a pretzel at him. “I didn’t mention it until now because I was afraid you’d try to talk me out of the idea before I’d even made up my mind. But I’ve thought long and hard and I’m very sure this is what I want. Now it’s just a question of finding someone to donate sperm.”
“But on your own! Don’t you want to get married someday?”
“Who’d marry me?”
“Come on, Ida,” Will chided. “You’re smart, successful, beautiful—”
“Stop it, Will. I might have been beautiful once,” she conceded, touching her forefinger to the fine ridges of scar tissue on her cheek. “Since this happened…forget it.”
Will fell silent, gnawed by guilt. Her scars, caused by burns from a deep-fat fryer in the fast-food joint where they’d both worked as university students, were his fault. She’d been standing over the fryer when he’d come along, on his way to the back room with his lunch. He’d stepped in a spot of grease, slipped, and his drink had flown into the fryer. He’d gone down, escaping the spray of boiling fat. Ida had caught it in the face. Thanks to her generous, forgiving nature, she’d never held the accident against him.
“Okay, so you’ll never make it in the movies, but you do all right, don’t you? I mean, your law practice is thriving, you own your house outright, you drive a brand-new BMW—” He broke off, wondering whether he was trying to convince himself or her.
“In terms of material success, yes, I’m doing fine. But it’s not enough anymore. What I want is a family.”
“I can understand that. I’d like a family, too. I’ve been thinking it’s time I settled down.”
“There you go. I’m thirty-seven, Will. It’s time to face facts. Maybe somewhere on this ever-shrinking Earth is a man who would love me for who I am, but I can’t wait forever to meet him.”
Will traced a path through the condensation on his glass. If only he could have fallen in love with her. But he’d known Ida since they were children, long before the fryer incident and the scarring. He loved her like a brother; the right chemistry just wasn’t there. “You’ll meet someone. Thirty-seven isn’t old.”
Ida snorted. “My biological clock has turned into a time bomb. If it weren’t physiologically unlikely, I’d swear I was getting hot flashes just thinking about my next birthday.”
“What about that guy from San Diego—Rick, wasn’t it? The one who was here setting up the Melbourne outlet for Borders bookstore. He seemed nice.”
“He’s gone back to the States,” Ida said with the dismissive gesture Will had come to associate with her covering up some hurt. “He wasn’t serious.”
“You always downplay any feelings a guy might have for you.” Will had thought the relationship was serious, at least on Ida’s part. He’d liked Rick, but if Rick had hurt her, Will wanted to shake him till his brain rattled. Ida hated anyone feeling sorry for her, though, even him, so he just nodded and sipped his beer.
A rustle in the bushes next to the brick wall caught his attention. Maeve emerged on the lawn. Despite the shimmering heat, she looked cool as a spring flower in her loose white shirt. Unaware of his scrutiny, she was making notes on her clipboard, head bent, wisps of shining dark hair falling over her high cheekbones. Then the warm breeze ruffled the page, and she glanced up. Seeing him watching her, she smiled.
Will froze, glass to his lips, as the oddest sensation stole over him, a kind of warmth in his midsection. A smile curved his lips as their gazes held, and the warmth expanded throughout his body, transporting him to a state of unexpected well-being.
“Who’s that?” Ida asked.
“Huh? Oh, that’s Maeve. She’s a landscape gardener, and the daughter of my foreman at the factory. She’s got some sensational ideas for the garden.”
“She’s lovely. If you’re looking to settle down, you don’t need to look farther than your own backyard.”
“I asked her out and she refused,” Will said with a frown. “No reason. Just refused.”
“Maybe she was having a bad day.”
“Maybe.”
Maeve disappeared behind the Monterey Bay fig, and Will turned back to Ida. “I understand your wanting a child, but do you really have to do it on your own?”
Ida’s chin lifted. “What’s wrong with that?”
Will shoved both hands through his hair. “For starters, a child needs a mother and a father. I realize it doesn’t always work out that way and I’d never judge anyone whose marriage breaks up, but, damn it, you have to try.”
Ida leaned forward, her hazel eyes shimmering. “I have tried, Will. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past fifteen years—playing hard to get?”
“But think of the child. It’s not fair to deliberately deprive a kid of having a father.” No one understood better than he what growing up without a father was like.
Ida’s mouth pulled tight. “Life isn’t fair. Is it fair for me to remain childless when I want so badly to have a baby?”
“No, but…”
She got up and strode across the deck to lean against the post, arms tightly crossed. “I was hoping for your moral support. If that’s not possible, at least spare me your condemnation.”
Will rose and put his arms around her, and felt her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t try to talk you out of this crazy idea.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her wet cheeks with the heel of her hand. “My emotions are all over the place lately. I know what I want is selfish, but I’m feeling desperate. I hate that. It’s so pathetic.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Will said soothingly, and stroked her back. “You’re not selfish or pathetic. It’s just that you deserve more. Your baby deserves more. I thought you were waiting for Mr. Right to come along.”
She managed a ragged laugh. “Mr. Right must have taken a wrong turn. Or maybe he saw me first. I’ve given up, Will. I’ve tried so hard for so long. Plastic surgery can only do so much. My appearance is as good as it’s ever going to get. The only dates I’ve had since my accident have been with friends or co-workers who feel sorry for me.”
“And Rick,” he reminded her. “But I don’t believe he or anyone else went out with you because they felt sorry for you.”
With an impatient sigh, she pushed away from Will and paced back to her seat. “I thought Rick was different, yet when his time was up here in Melbourne, he just left.”
“Have you heard from him at all?”
“He phoned once, but I could tell it was just a duty call. I’m not prepared to wait around any longer on the off chance I might meet someone else. If I’m going to have a child, I want it to be soon.”
Will was silent a moment, struggling to accept what she was saying. He came back to his seat, prepared to be a help, not a hindrance. “Okay, you’re serious. Let’s take it from there. What about the father? Who will it be? Are you planning to tell him?”
“I don’t have an arrangement with anyone yet.” She gazed down at her hands with an oddly shy smile. “Although I do have a candidate in mind.”
Will relaxed a little and leaned back against his chair. At least, she wasn’t planning on a series of one-night stands with anonymous lovers.
