First Comes Baby...

She shook herself. ‘I’ll…um…go and put the percolator on.’

Ben moved towards the doorway. ‘I’ll make myself scarce.’

‘No, Benjamin, it’s fortunate you’re here,’ her father said. ‘Elsie rang me when she heard you arrive. That’s why we’re here. What we have to say will affect you too.’

Ben glanced at Meg. She shrugged. All four of them in the kitchen made everything suddenly awkward. She thought fast. Her father would expect her to serve coffee in the formal lounge room. It was where he’d feel most comfortable.

It was the one room where Ben would feel least comfortable.

‘Dad, why don’t you and Elsie make yourselves comfortable in the family room? It’s so lovely and sunny in there. I’ll bring coffee and cake through in a moment.’ Before her father could protest she turned to Ben. Getting stuck making small talk with her father and Elsie would be his worst nightmare. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could set a tray for me.’

He immediately leapt into action. She turned away to set the percolator going. When she turned back her father and Elsie had moved into the family room.

‘What’s with them?’ Ben murmured.

‘I don’t know, but I told you last time you were here that something was going down with them.’

They took the coffee and cake into the family room. Meg poured coffee, sliced cake and handed it around.

She took a sip of her decaf and lifted a morsel of cake to her mouth. ‘This is very good.’

Her father and Elsie sat side by side on the sofa, stiff and formal. They didn’t touch their coffee or their cake. They didn’t appear to have a slouchy, comfortable bone between them. With a sigh, Meg set her fork on the side of her plate. If she’d been hoping the family room would loosen them up she was sorely disappointed.

She suddenly wanted to shake them! Neither one of them had asked Ben how he was doing, where he’d been, or how long he’d been back. Her hand clenched around her mug. They gave off nothing but a great big blank.

She glanced at Ben. He lounged in the armchair opposite, staring at his cake and gulping coffee. She wanted to shake him too.

She thumped her mug and cake plate down on the coffee table and pasted her brightest smile to her face. She utterly refused to do blank. ‘While it’s lovely to see you both, I get the impression this isn’t a social visit. You said there’s something you wanted to tell us?’

‘That’s correct, Megan.’

Her father’s name was Lawrence Samuel Parrish. If they didn’t call him Mr Parrish—people, that was, colleagues and acquaintances—they called him Laurie. She stared at him and couldn’t find even a glimpse of the happy-go-lucky ease that ‘Laurie’ suggested. Did he resent the familiarity of that casual moniker?

It wasn’t the kind of question she could ever ask. They didn’t have that kind of a relationship. In fact, when you got right down to brass tacks, she and her father didn’t have any kind of relationship worth speaking of.

Her father didn’t continue. Elsie didn’t take up where he left off. In fact the older woman seemed to be studying the ceiling light fixture. Meg glanced up too, but as far as she could tell there didn’t seem to be anything amiss—no ancient cobwebs or dust, and it didn’t appear to be in imminent danger of dropping on their heads.

‘Well!’ She clapped her hands and then rubbed them together. ‘We’re positively agog with excitement—aren’t we, Ben?’

He started. ‘We are?’

If she’d been closer she’d have kicked him. ‘Yes, of course we are.’

Not.

Hmm…Actually, maybe a bit. This visit really was unprecedented. It was just that this ritual of her doing her best to brisk them up and them steadfastly resisting had become old hat. And suddenly she felt too tired for it.

She stared at Laurie and Elsie. They stared back, but said nothing. With a shrug she picked up her mug again, settled back in her easy chair and took a sip. She turned to Ben to start a conversation. Any conversation.

‘Which part of the world have you been jaunting around this time?’

He turned so his body was angled towards her, effectively excluding the older couple. ‘On safari in Africa.’

‘Lions and elephants?’

‘More than you could count.’

‘Elsie and I are getting married.’

Meg sprayed the space between her and Ben with coffee. Ben returned the favour. Elsie promptly rose and took their mugs from them as they coughed and coughed. Her father handed them paper napkins. It was the most animated she’d ever seen them. But then they sat side-by-side on the sofa again, as stiff and formal as before.

Meg’s coughing eased. She knew she should excuse herself for such disgusting manners, but she didn’t. For once she asked what was uppermost in her mind. ‘Are you serious?’

Her father remained wooden. ‘Yes.’

That was it. A single yes. No explanation. No declaration of love. Nothing.

She glanced at Ben. He was staring at them as if he’d never seen them before. He was staring at them with a kind of fascinated horror, as if they were a car wreck he couldn’t drag his gaze from.

She inched forward on her seat, doing all she could to catch first her father’s and then Elsie’s eyes. ‘I don’t mean to be impertinent, but…why?’

‘That is impertinent.’ Her father’s chin lifted. ‘And none of your business.’

‘If it’s not my business then I don’t know who else’s it is,’ she shot back, surprising herself. Normally she was the keeper of the peace, the smoother-over of awkward moments, doing all she could to make things easy for this pair who, it suddenly occurred to her, had never exactly made things easy for either her or Ben.

‘I told you they wouldn’t approve!’ Elsie said.

‘Oh, it’s not that I don’t approve,’ Meg managed.

‘I don’t,’ Ben growled.

She stared at him. ‘Yeah, but you don’t approve of marriage on principle.’ She rolled her eyes. Did he seriously think he wanted to be a father?

Think about that later.

She turned back to the older couple. ‘The thing is, I didn’t even know you were dating. Why the secrecy? And…and… I mean…’

Her father glanced at Elsie and then at Meg. ‘What?’ he rapped out.

‘Do you love each other?’

Elsie glanced away. Her father’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

‘I mean, surely that’s the only good reason to marry, isn’t it?’

Nobody said anything. Her lips twisted. Have a banana, Meg. Was she the only person in this room who believed in love—good, old-fashioned, rumpy-pumpy love?

‘Elsie and I have decided that we’ll rub along quite nicely together.’

She started to roll her eyes at her father’s pomposity, but then he did something extraordinary—he reached out and clasped Elsie’s hand. Elsie held his hand on her lap and it didn’t look odd or alien or wrong.

Meg stared at those linked hands and had to fight down a sudden lump in her throat. ‘In that case, congratulations.’ She rose and kissed them both on the cheek.

Ben didn’t join her.

She took her seat and sent him an uneasy glance. ‘Ben?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s no business of mine.’ He lolled in his chair with almost deliberate insolence. ‘They’re old enough to know what they want.’

‘Precisely,’ her father snapped.

She rubbed her forehead. No amount of smoothing would ease this awkward moment. She decided to move the moment forward instead. ‘So, where will you live?’

‘We’ll live in my apartment at Nelson Bay.’

She turned to Elsie. ‘What will you do with your house?’

Before he’d retired Meg’s father had been a property developer. He still had a lot of contacts in the industry. Maybe they’d sell it. Maybe she’d end up with cheerful neighbours who’d wave whenever they saw her and have young children who’d develop lifelong friendships with her child.

‘I’m going to give it to Ben.’

Ben shot upright to tower over all of them. ‘I don’t want it!’

Her father rose. ‘That’s an ungracious way to respond to such a generous gift.’

Ben glared at his grandmother. ‘Is he railroading you into this?’

‘Most certainly not!’ She stood too. ‘Meg’s right. She’s seen what you haven’t—or what you can’t. Not that I can blame you for that. But…but Laurie and I love each other. I understand how hard you might find that to believe after the way the two of us have been over the years, but I spent a lot of time with him when he was recuperating.’ She shot Meg an almost apologetic glance that made Meg fidget. ‘When you were at work, that is. We talked a lot. And we’re hoping it’s not too late for all of us to become a family,’ she finished falteringly, her cheeks pink with self-consciousness.

It was one of the longest speeches Meg had ever heard her utter, but one glance at Ben and she winced.

‘A family?’ he bellowed.

‘Sit!’ Meg hollered.

Everyone sat, and then stared at her in varying degrees of astonishment. She marvelled at her own daring, and decided to bluff it out. ‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’

Elsie darted a glance at Meg’s father. ‘We thought the thirtieth of next month.’

Next month? The end of March?

That was only six weeks away!

‘We’ll be married by a celebrant at the registry office. We’d like you both to be there.’ Her father didn’t look at her as he spoke.

‘Of course.’ Though heaven only knew how she’d get Ben there. He avoided weddings like the plague—as if he thought they might somehow be catching.

‘And where have you settled on for your honeymoon?’

‘I…’ He frowned. ‘We’re too old for a honeymoon.’

She caught his eye. ‘Dad, do you love Elsie?’

He swallowed and nodded. She’d never seen him look more vulnerable in his life.

She blinked and swallowed. ‘Then you’re not too old for a honeymoon.’ She hauled in a breath. ‘And, like Elsie, are you hoping to rebuild family ties?’

‘I sincerely hope so, Megan. I mean, you have a baby on the way now.’

Correction—she’d never seen him look more vulnerable until now. He was proffering the olive branch she’d been praying for ever since she was eight years old, and she found all she wanted to do was run from the room. A great ball of hardness lodged in her stomach. Her father was willing to change for a grandchild, but not for her.

‘Meg.’

She understood the implicit warning Ben sent her. He didn’t want her hurt or disappointed. Again. She understood then that the chasm between them all might be too wide ever to be breached.

She folded her arms, her brain whirling. Very slowly, out of the mists of confusion and befuddlement—and resentment—a plan started to form. She glanced at the happy couple. A plan perfect in its simplicity. She glanced at Ben. A plan devious in design. A family, huh? They’d see about that. All of them. Laurie and Elsie, and Ben too.

She stood and moved across to Ben’s chair. ‘You must allow Ben and I to throw you a wedding—a proper celebration to honour your public commitment to each other.’

‘What the—?’

Ben broke off with a barely smothered curse when she surreptitiously pulled his hair.

‘Oh, that’s not necessary—’ Elsie started.

‘Of course it is!’ Meg beamed at her. ‘It will be our gift to you.’

Her father lumbered to his feet, panic racing across his face. Meg winked at Elsie before he could speak. ‘Every woman deserves a wedding day, and my father knows the value of accepting generosity in the spirit it’s given. Don’t you, Dad?’ Family, huh? Well, he’d have to prove it.

He stared at her, dumbfounded and just a little…afraid? That was when it hit her that all his pomposity and stiffness stemmed from nervousness. He was afraid that she’d reject him. The thought made her flinch. She pushed it away.

‘We’ll hold the wedding here,’ she told them, lifting her chin. ‘It’ll be a quiet affair, but classy and elegant.’

‘I…’ Her father blinked.

Ben slouched down further in his chair.

Elsie studied the floor at her feet.

Meg met her father’s gaze. ‘I believe thank you is the phrase you’re looking for.’ She sat and lifted the knife. ‘More cake, anyone?’ She cut Ben another generous slice. ‘Eat up, Ben. You’re looking a bit peaky. I need you to keep your strength up.’

He glowered at her. But he demolished the cake. After the smallest hesitation, Elsie forked a sliver of cake into her mouth. Her eyes widened. Her head came up. She ate another tiny morsel. Watching her, Laurie did the same.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Ben rounded on her the instant the older couple left.

She folded her arms and nodded towards the staircase. ‘You want to go take that nap?’

He thrust a finger under her nose. ‘What kind of patsy do you take me for? I am not helping you organise some godforsaken wedding. You got that?’

Loud and clear.

‘The day after tomorrow I’m out of here, and I won’t be back for a good three months.’

Exactly what she’d expected.

‘Do you hear me, Meg? Can I make myself any clearer?’

‘The day after tomorrow, huh?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you won’t be back until around May?’

‘Precisely.’ He set off towards the stairs.

She folded her arms even tighter. She waited until he’d placed his foot on the first riser. ‘So you’ve given up on the idea of fatherhood, then?’

He froze. And then he swung around and let forth with a word so rude she clapped her hands across her stomach in an attempt to block her unborn baby’s ears. ‘Ben!’

‘You…’ The finger he pointed at her shook.

‘I nothing,’ she shot back at him, her anger rising to match his. ‘You can’t just storm in here and demand all the rights and privileges of fatherhood unless you’re prepared to put in the hard yards. Domesticity and commitment includes dealing with my father and your grandmother. It includes helping out at the odd wedding, attending baptisms and neighbourhood pool parties and all those other things you loathe.’

She strode across to stand directly in front of him. ‘Nobody is asking you to put in those hard yards—least of all me.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I know exactly what you’re up to.’

He probably did. That was what happened when someone knew you so well.

‘You think the idea of helping out at this wedding is going to scare me off.’

She raised an eyebrow. Hadn’t it?

‘It won’t work, Meg.’

They’d see about that. ‘Believe me, Ben, a baby is a much scarier proposition than a wedding. Even this wedding.’

‘You don’t think I’ll stick it out?’

Not for a moment. ‘If you can’t stick the wedding out then I can’t see how you’ll stick fatherhood out.’ And she’d do everything she could to protect her child from that particular heartache. ‘End of story.’

The pulse at the base of his jaw thumped and his eyes flashed blue fire. It was sexy as hell.

She blinked and then took a step back. Stupid pregnancy hormones!

He thrust out his hand. ‘You have yourself a deal, Meg, and may the best man win.’

She refused to shake it. Her eyes stung. She swallowed a lump the size of a Victorian sponge. ‘This isn’t some stupid bet, Ben. This is my baby’s life!’

His face softened but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. ‘Wrong, Meg. Our baby. It’s our baby’s life.’

He reached out and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. And then he was gone.

‘Oh, Ben,’ she whispered after him, reaching up to touch the spot on her cheek that burned from his touch. He had no idea what he’d just let himself in for.

CHAPTER FOUR

BEN SLEPT IN one of Meg’s spare bedrooms instead of next door at Elsie’s.

He slept the sleep of the dead.

He slept for twenty straight hours.

When he finally woke and traipsed into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Meg hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table. The sun poured in at the windows, haloing her in gold. She glanced up. She smiled. But it wasn’t her regular wide, unguarded smile.

‘I wondered when you’d surface.’

He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.’ Or that well.

‘Where were you?’

He frowned and pointed. ‘Your back bedroom.’

Her grin lit her entire face. ‘I meant where exactly in Africa were you before you flew home to Australia?’

Oh, right. ‘Zambia, to be exact.’ He was supposed to be leading a safari.

She stared at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He remembered that conversation with Stefan, and the look of fulfilment that had spread across his friend’s face when he’d spoken about his children. It had filled Ben with awe, and the sudden recognition of his responsibilities had changed everything.

He had to be a better father than his own had been. He had to or—

His stomach churned and he cut the thought off. It was too early in the day for such grim thoughts.

‘Exciting,’ she murmured.

He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. ‘Meg, are we okay—you and me?’

‘Of course we are.’ But she’d gone back to her laptop and she didn’t look up as she spoke. When he didn’t move she waved a hand towards the pantry. ‘Look, we need to talk, but have something to eat first while I finish up these accounts. Then we’ll do precisely that.’

He’d stormed in here yesterday and upended all of her plans. Meg liked her ducks in neat straight rows. She liked to know exactly where she was going and what she was working towards. He’d put paid to all of that, and he knew how much it rattled her when her plans went awry.

Awry? His lips twisted. He’d blown them to smithereens. The least he could do was submit to her request with grace, but…

‘You’re working on a Sunday?’

‘I run my own business, Ben. I work when I have to work.’

He shut up after that. It struck him how much Meg stuck to things, and how much he never had. As soon as he grew bored with a job or a place he moved on to the next one, abuzz with the novelty and promise of a new experience. His restlessness had become legendary amongst his friends and colleagues. No wonder she didn’t have any faith in his potential as a father.

All you did was collect sperm in a cup.

He flinched, spilling cereal all over the bench. With a muffled curse he cleaned it up and then stood, staring out of the kitchen window at the garden beyond while he ate.

You never planned to have a child.

He hadn’t. He’d done everything in his power to avoid that kind of commitment. Bile rose in his throat. So what the hell was he doing here?

He stared at the bowl he held and Stefan’s face, words, rose in his mind. A baby deserves both a mother and a father. He pushed his shoulders back and rinsed his bowl. He might not have planned this, but he had no intention of walking away from his child. He couldn’t.

He swung to Meg, but she didn’t look up from her computer. He wasn’t hungry but he made toast. He ate because he wanted his body clock to adjust to the time zone. He ate to stop himself from demanding that Meg stop what she was doing and talk to him right now.

After he’d washed and dried the dishes Meg turned off her computer and pushed it to one side. He poured two glasses of orange juice and sat down. ‘You said we have to talk.’ He pushed one of the glasses towards her.

She blinked. ‘And you don’t think that’s necessary?’

‘I said what I needed to say yesterday.’ He eyed her for a moment. ‘And I don’t want to fight.’

She stared at him, as if waiting for more. When he remained silent she blew out a breath and shook her head.

He rolled his shoulders and fought a scowl. ‘What?’

‘You said yesterday that you want to be acknowledged as the baby’s father.’

‘I do.’

‘And that you want to be a part of its life.’

He thrust out his jaw. ‘That’s right.’

‘Then would you kindly outline the practicalities of that for me, please? What precisely are your intentions?’

He stared at her blankly. What was she talking about?

She shook her head again, her lips twisting. ‘Does that mean you want to drop in and visit the baby once a week? Or does it mean you want the baby to live with you for two nights a week and every second weekend? Or are you after week-about parenting?’ Her eyes suddenly blazed with scorn. ‘Or do you mean to flit in and out of its life as you do now, only instead of calling you Uncle Ben the child gets the privilege of calling you Daddy?’

Her scorn almost burned the skin from his face.

She leaned towards him. ‘Do you actually mean to settle down and help care for this baby?’

Settle down? His mouth went dry. He hadn’t thought…

She drew back and folded her arms. ‘Or do you mean to keep going on as you’ve always done?’

She stared at him, her blazing eyes and the tension in her folded arms demanding an answer. He had to say something. ‘I…I haven’t thought the nuts and bolts of the arrangements through.’ It wasn’t much to give her, but at least it was the truth.

‘You can’t have it both ways, Ben. You’re either globe-trotting Uncle Ben or one hundred per cent involved Daddy. I won’t settle for anything but the best for my child.’

He leapt out of his chair. ‘You can’t demand I change my entire life!’

She stared at him, her eyes shadowed. ‘I’m not. I’ve never had any expectations of you. You’re the one who stormed in here yesterday and said you wanted to be a father. And a true father is—’

‘More than sperm in a cup.’ He fell back into his seat.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I put that very crudely yesterday.’

Her guilt raked at him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d waltzed in and overturned her carefully laid plans.

She lifted her head. ‘A father is so much more than an uncle, Ben. Being a true father demands more commitment than your current lifestyle allows for. A father isn’t just for fun and games. Being a father means staying up all night when your child is sick, running around to soccer and netball games, attending parent and teacher nights.’

His hands clenched. His stomach clenched tighter. He’d stormed in here without really knowing what he was demanding. He still didn’t know what he was demanding. He just knew he couldn’t walk away.

‘Ben, What do you even know about babies?’

Zilch. Other than the fact that they were miracles. And that they deserved all the best life had to give.

‘Have you ever held one?’

Nope. Not even once.

‘Do you even know how to nurture someone?’

He stiffened. What the hell…?

‘I don’t mean do you know how to lead a group safely and successfully down the Amazon, or to base camp at Everest, or make sure someone attaches the safety harness on their climbing equipment correctly. Do you know how to care for someone who is sick or who’s just feeling a bit depressed?’

What kind of selfish sod did she think him?

His mouth dried. What kind of selfish sod was he?

‘I’m not criticising you. Those things have probably never passed across your radar before.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You have this amazing and exciting life. Do you really want to give it up for nappies, teething, car pools and trips to the dentist?’

He couldn’t answer that.

‘Do you really want to be a father, Ben?’

He stared at his hands. He curled his fingers against his palms, forming them into fists. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He searched Meg’s eyes—eyes that had given him answers in the past. ‘What should I do?’ Did she think he had it in him to become a good father?

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