A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle. Barbara HannayЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I know.’ Freya shrugged. ‘I thought the doctors would put a stop to it, but they said he’s fine to play while his medication’s still working.’
‘That’s amazing.’
‘Except…as I told you, the medication has a time limit.’
Gus scowled. ‘So when will you tell him who I am, and why I’m here?’
‘I don’t think we can talk about that sort of thing at the game. We should go back to my place.’
Her place.
Unreasonably, that cold feeling of exclusion encircled Gus again. Freya and Nick had a home where they’d lived as a special unit for all these years. Without him.
It was only then that he realised they were cresting the last rise—and suddenly there was the Bay lying below them, even more beautiful than he remembered.
Considerately, Freya stopped the car so he could take in the view. The small town hugged the pristine curve of pale yellow sand strung between two green headlands that reached out like arms to embrace the sparkling, rolling sea.
‘Wow.’ He hadn’t dared to hope that it might still be the sleepy seaside village he remembered. ‘It hasn’t changed.’
‘Not too much.’
‘I was worried the beach would be crawling with tourists by now, or spoiled by developers.’
‘There are a lot more houses.’ Freya waved to the crosshatching of streets and rooftops that stretched back from the beachfront. ‘And there are new blocks of units on The Esplanade.’
She pointed out a handful of tall buildings that stood, boldly out of place, near the shops overlooking the sea. ‘The local councillors have been very strict, though. They won’t allow any building taller than six floors.’
‘Good thinking.’
Disconnected memories came rushing back. Eating fish and chips on the beach straight from the paper they were wrapped in. Watching the flashes of summer lightning out to sea. Surfing the waves and feeling at one with the forces of nature, with the whole universe.
That last summer, which he’d forever thought of as Freya’s summer.
Gus felt as if a thorn had pierced his heart.
Freya started up the car again and, as they headed down the hill, he saw the house his parents had owned, perched on a clifftop overlooking the bay. Lower down, they reached the suburban streets where many of their friends had lived, and then the high school, with the new addition of an impressive brick gymnasium.
Neither Gus nor Freya spoke as they continued on two blocks beyond the school to the football field ringed by massive banyan trees.
Gus stared through the windscreen and his throat was tighter than ever as he glimpsed the grassy sports oval between the trees. He saw the white timber goalposts, the young boys in colourful jerseys, the rows of parked cars and the players’ friends and families gathered along the sidelines, or sitting on folding chairs in the shade.
For two happy years, this had been his world.
Now it was his son’s world.
The picture swam before him and he was forced to blink.
Freya turned off the engine.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.
‘I’m a bit shaky.’
Gus nodded. Shaky was exactly how he felt. This was such a big moment. Huge. Almost as momentous and huge as getting married, or witnessing a birth. Twelve years too late, he was about to become a father.
A roar erupted from the crowd as they got out of the car and Freya sent a quick glance over her shoulder to the field.
‘Looks like the other team has scored a try.’ She pouted her lower lip in mock despair.
‘Who’s the opposition?’
‘Dirranvale. They usually beat us.’
‘Nothing’s changed, then.’ Gus sent her a quick grin, and he was rewarded by an answering grin.
Wow.
Wow. Wow. Wow. Even when Freya’s face was half hidden by sunglasses, the grin transformed her. She was the laughing beach girl of his past, and his heart leapt and rolled like a breaking wave.
Impulsively, he reached an arm around her shoulders, moved by an overpowering urge to plant a deep, appreciative kiss on her smiling mouth.
Just in time, he remembered that she’d chosen to keep him out of her life, out of his son’s life, and he stamped down on the impulse.
Just as well. Freya wouldn’t have welcomed it. Even his casual hug troubled her. Her lips trembled, her smile disintegrated and she moved away, leaving his arm dangling in mid-air.
Fool. Gus shoved his hands in his pockets. He was here to meet Nick, to save Nick. Flirting with the boy’s mother was not an option. Neither of them wanted to rake up out-of-date emotions and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t put a foot wrong during this visit.
Hurrying ahead of him, Freya had already reached the sideline and some of the bystanders turned, smiled and waved to her or called hello. As Gus joined her, they eyed him with marked curiosity, but he paid them scant attention. His interest was immediately fixed on the team of boys in the blue and gold Sugar Bay jerseys.
His son was one of those boys.
Right now, they were standing in a disconsolate row, watching as the opposition’s goal kicker booted the ball over the bar and between the posts. The whistle blew, the Dirranvale team’s score jumped another two points, then both teams regrouped, ready to resume the game.
Fine hairs lifted on the back of Gus’s neck. ‘Where’s Nick?’ he murmured to Freya. ‘Is he on the field?’
She nodded. ‘I bet you’ll recognise him.’
Gus felt a spurt of panic. Was he supposed to instantly know which boy was his? Was this some kind of test?
Freya’s sunglasses hid the direction of her gaze and his heart thumped as he scanned the field. There were thirteen boys out there in the Sugar Bay jerseys. He had no idea if Nick was dark or fair, tall or thickset, if he took after the Wilder family or the Joneses.
Should he be looking for a kid who was frailer than the rest? Or was his son the chubby kid, red-faced and panting and avoiding the ball?
The Sugar Bay team had possession of the ball and parents yelled instructions from the sidelines. The boys were running down the field, throwing passes, trying to make ground and dodge being tackled. As far as Gus could see, they were all happy and healthy and bursting with energy. It was hard to believe that any one of them could be seriously ill.
The boy in the number seven jersey suddenly broke ahead of the pack. He had a shock of black hair and dark grey eyes, and there was something about his face. Gus felt a jolt, a lightning bolt of connection. Recognition?
‘I don’t suppose that could be him, could it?’ His voice was choked. ‘Number seven?’
‘Yes, that’s Nick!’ Freya’s cry was close to a sob and she stood beside him with her arms tightly crossed, hugging her middle.
Nick. His kid. Nicholas Angus. Gus felt a rush of adrenaline as he watched the boy and he tried to pinpoint why he was so familiar. Apart from colouring, they weren’t really alike.
But there was something.
Gus’s eyes were riveted on Nick’s dashing dark-haired figure as he cleverly sidestepped an attempted tackle, then passed the ball.
He was good. Hey, Nick was really good. He moved forward again, ready for another chance to take possession, and Gus couldn’t suppress a fierce