скачать книгу бесплатно
‘The cot’s portable, remember? There are also some of yours and Lea’s kiddie toys in the attic. I’ll grab them before we go out. She should be happy enough being in sight of us—and she might like the animals too. Most babies do.’
‘Good thought.’ They’d both been exposed to farm animals before they’d been able to sit up, put on ponies before their first birthdays. If Melanie was going to live here—
She skidded to a shocked mental halt. That wasn’t and never would be the plan, no matter what Jared believed, or made deals over. She’d make sure he didn’t want her to stay … then she could find a life of her own at last, and he’d be free. ‘I’ll get her,’ she said curtly, and walked out before he could say anything else to set her thinking.
Melanie was chewing on a pillow, grabbing others and dropping them, laughing in baby delight at her accomplishments.
When she saw Anna coming for her, she gurgled and lifted her arms—and Anna’s heart flipped with joy and tenderness. Yes, superimposed over Melanie’s beautiful dimpled face was, maybe always would be, Adam’s, but she was a beautiful girl in her own right, and deserved a mother’s love as much as Anna craved to give it.
Don’t get your hopes up …
Sometimes in the past year she’d thought about having children by other means, such as adoption—but part of her kept believing that she couldn’t possibly love a child not of her own body as she’d loved Adam. Would she resent that poor child more than she’d love them?
That worry, and the deeper knowledge that she couldn’t put another set of parents through the anguish of loss had held her back from giving in to the darkest temptation when she’d seen a baby outside a store in a pram, looking so alone and neglected.
‘Thank God I didn’t know,’ she whispered as she gathered Melanie’s warm limbs into her arms, cuddling her close.
‘Thank God.’
‘For what?’
She stilled for a moment, fury filling her for him thinking he had the right to come on her in this private moment. Even worse was the knowledge that her promise gave him that right. Whatever he wants …
The air crackled with expectation—his and hers. Pivotal moments came to every marriage. She could keep playing the good girl, or be a woman and tell the truth.
‘For Melanie,’ she said quietly as she laid the baby down to change her nappy, giving herself a minute to change her mind. The baby’s romper pants were wet as well, so she rubbed Melanie down with baby wipes before putting on a nappy and clean clothing.
When she was done, he was still waiting for the rest in his usual silence. It seemed that, at last, he really wanted to know.
So she added with deliberation, ‘For not knowing until she came into my life that I could love another child this deeply.’ She turned on him in slow defiance. ‘If I’d known before she came to me that I could feel such love for any baby but Adam, I might have done the unthinkable.’
And surely that should shock conventional Jared into letting her fall from the cursed Curran pedestal he kept her on.
But to her surprise, he nodded slowly. ‘I saw it in your eyes yesterday, the guilt. I’ve been thanking God ever since then for watching out for you when I didn’t.’
It shocked her to her core that perfectionist Jared had not only seen the truth but understood her unbearable temptation, and forgiven her. If she didn’t shore up her defences, and fast, she’d never leave this place again—and she couldn’t gamble her life, and Melanie’s, on Jared’s changes becoming soul-deep, or that they’d be permanent.
Willing away the softening of her heart, she lifted her chin. ‘You’re not responsible for me, Jared. I left you, remember? I make my own decisions now.’
Instead of withdrawing, as he had every time she’d reminded him that as far as she was concerned they were still separated, he looked deep into her eyes and said, ‘I keep my vows.’
It should have moved her, filled her with love … words like that had always turned her into a shivering mass of loving woman. But this time all she felt was driving anger. Keep your cool … ‘Selectively,’ she replied, coolness in the single word, and she walked past him. ‘Lunch must be just about ready.’
His voice came from behind her as she strode through the house, dark and, yes, finally, withdrawn. ‘You don’t need to remind me of my selective vow-keeping. It comes to me every night in my dreams. Losing Adam because I listened to the midwife, not you … you lying in that pool of blood the next day … and whose fault it was that it all happened. I know, Anna. I know.’
Arrested by the tone, she wheeled around to frown at him. He hadn’t used the amused reproof that always made her feel small, or the enigmatic coldness that made her wither inside. Every word he’d spoken had been aimed inward. Self-recrimination wasn’t something she was used to from Jared. He was Action Man, always finding the way out, always saving the day. ‘What?’ she spluttered as he pushed past her to get the pies and chips from the oven. ‘You blame yourself for what happened? You think I blame you for.?’
‘Who else is there to blame?’ He pulled out plates and put the food on them, got cutlery from the drawer. He didn’t look at her. ‘You do, too, Anna, or you’d never have left. You wouldn’t have moved out of our bed if some part of you didn’t believe me at least partly responsible for Adam’s death, and your near-death.’
Beyond shock now—how many years had she wanted Jared to say something so profound, and ask her?—she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Did she blame him for that?
At that moment Melanie lunged forward, trying to get to the floor, and she let the baby down, where she happily tugged at a broken corner of black-and-white linoleum that needed replacement. Anna replaced the makeshift toy with a wooden spoon, which Melanie began banging with a gurgle.
Then Anna found her mouth moving of its own accord, words she didn’t know were true or a lie. ‘Jared, I never once thought—’
‘Don’t say it, Anna. If you’re going to leave me after this, despite your promise, then at least end it honestly,’ he said with suppressed violence. ‘Our son is dead because of me.’
Thunder cracked overhead, and the baby jumped; her face crumpled, and she wailed. Glad of the distraction, Anna touched her downy little head in a loving caress of reassurance, but her mind had stalled like a car engine that had run out of oil. ‘What do you want me to say?’ she asked slowly, feeling that pivotal moment stretching out, unwinding like a ball of yarn.
‘It’s not about what I want,’ he said, with a dark unutterable weariness that tugged at her soul. ‘For once in our lives, stop playing Miss Perfect, stop giving me what I want and tell me the truth.’
The truth was that, for months, she’d hated the world for not understanding, hated the help group that she’d attended for having found a place of peace she hadn’t been able to see. She’d hated Lea for having Molly so easily and so carelessly from a one-night stand, hated Jared for getting on with life when she couldn’t, didn’t know how—didn’t want to.
This was why she’d hated those she loved the most—for never asking—and at last he’d asked, at the perfect moment. The perfect time for him.
She gave a tired laugh. ‘Oh, that’s great, Jared, ask when it’s less painful, less imperative, when I have Melanie, and I don’t feel as if I’m bleeding to death any more.’ Her hands curled into balls, shaking, longing to lash out. ‘You didn’t want to know before, you ignored me when I all but begged you to hear me, so why choose now, when it can’t make a difference?’
He stood with his back to her, legs spread wide, his white-knuckled hands gripping the kitchen bench like he stood in quicksand and it stopped him sinking. ‘Because I’m not too afraid to ask you now.’
‘Because you’re back on home territory, and in control?’ she half mocked, the months of repressed fury and betrayal bubbling up in unexpected flashpoint.
As if he’d expected the words, he shrugged and said simply, ‘Because I’ve already lost you, lost Adam. So say it, Anna; get it all out. There can’t be worse.’
On legs surprisingly steady—maybe part of her had always known he’d ask eventually; he’d been waiting for this time, when he was back safe on his turf—she found a chair and sat down, half-facing Melanie, replacing the flooring corner which she was pulling at again with a plastic bottle. The baby began banging it on the floor, squealing in delight at the juddering noise.
And, watching the baby, she felt the fury draining away, just when she wanted to hold hard to it. With a little sigh, she let her heart speak for her. ‘Why did you never even hesitate about choosing to implant Adam when the doctor said it was dangerous to try again? Why, Jared? He’d told us fairly bluntly that the baby and I could both die, but you kept pushing. Was a son worth more to you than my life?’
After a long silence, broken only by Melanie’s play, he asked, ‘Are you hungry? Lunch will get cold soon.’
There it was, his withdrawal, right on cue. Don’t poke and prod me like a cow, don’t push me or I’ll retreat. It was her turn now to make it easy, to say yes and eat, and after the baby was asleep he’d reward her in the way that had once made her happy, had once been enough.
It had never been enough.
She lifted her chin, and spoke from a place of control, because she no longer cared if he retreated or withheld affection from her. ‘No, I’m not hungry. I asked you a question, and I’d like you to answer it.’
He stopped in mid-stride, turning to stare at her from over his shoulder. ‘Have you believed that all this time?’ His face was unreadable, but his voice held some deeper-hidden emotion.
‘Stop it,’ she said, soft, holding in the anger lest they upset the baby. ‘Stop turning the questions onto me. You always do that instead of answering, to make me talk. It’s your way of finding out my issue so you can find the solution to the problem.’
He wheeled right around to face her then, frowning. ‘You don’t want a solution?’
The question was so typically Jared, she laughed before turning his words of the day before onto him. ‘I want you to talk.’ Then, in deliberate provocation, she added, ‘I want you to have the courage to answer my question.’
His clenched fist thudded on the sink. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.’
The confusion, the frustration rang so clear she heard it like a bell tolling. He didn’t understand, didn’t know what to do if he couldn’t do, couldn’t act, couldn’t fix. He was waiting for his cue to charge into the fray like Lancelot, finding a way to make things better.
‘I asked you a question. Was having the required son and heir worth more to you than my life?’ she asked again. Pushing with a rapier covered in silk.
‘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.
