A Mother for Matilda (15 page)

How much easier would his life be, would Matilda’s life be, if she had a mother? A rush of something he didn’t want to analyse blossomed in his chest as he watched Victoria with his daughter.

I think we better leave the sex education to me
.

That was what she’d just said. As if she were going to be around for it whether he liked it or not. As if she
didn’t doubt for a moment that she was going to be part of their lives.

She’d handled this perfectly and had always been great with Matilda. But Victoria had sworn off ever being a mother. How fair would it be to expect that of her? Even if that was what she thought she wanted. Had she thought about it from that angle? Instant motherhood? Again?

Vic could feel him watching them. ‘What type of boy do you think your dad is?’ She noticed Lawson frowning in her peripheral vision and ignored it.

Matilda swallowed a mouthful of ice cream. ‘The first kind.’

Vic smiled at her. ‘And wouldn’t you prefer to have a boyfriend who was like your dad? Someone who knew how to treat a girl properly.’ Even though he didn’t have a clue how to treat her properly. The way she wanted to be treated.

Matilda looked at her father. ‘I want to marry someone just like Daddy.’

Vic felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She knew exactly how Matilda felt. Lawson smiled at his daughter and the pain intensified. They were such a duo, a team. ‘Probably best to stay clear of boys like Hamish, then. Don’t you think?’

Matilda smiled at Vic. ‘Definitely.’ She spooned another mouthful of ice cream in and swallowed. ‘So I shouldn’t let a boy kiss me until we’re married?’

Lawson, who was in the process of taking a sip of his hot chocolate, coughed and nearly choked on it. ‘That’s right,’ he managed to gasp.

Vic glared at him. ‘No, it’s not. Your dad’s just being
a dad. He’s supposed to say that. Kissing is fun. But it is part of being grown up. At your age it’s okay to have boys who are friends. But it’s probably better to leave the kissing for high school. Okay?’

Matilda thought for a moment. ‘Okay.’

‘High school?’ Lawson demanded as they pulled out of his driveway fifteen minutes later to respond to a thirty-eight-year-old female with abdominal pain. ‘How about uni? How about when she turns thirty?’

Vic laughed. His outrage had eroded the barriers he’d put in place and it was the most natural she’d seen him since they’d done the wild thing and she’d gone and ruined it by telling him she was staying on Brindabella with him. ‘Oh, hey, how about never? How about she joins a convent?’

Lawson nodded. ‘Brilliant idea. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more sensible suggestion.’

‘Lawson, she’s going to have boyfriends whether you like it or not. You can forbid her and watch her rebel or you can give her some leeway and keep your fingers crossed.’

He snorted. ‘Easy to say when she’s not your child.’

Vic felt as if he’d slammed a sledgehammer into her chest. ‘You could change that. Just say the word.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to be a mother? Never ever, you said.’

‘Yes, I did say that, but I know you come as a package deal. And I love Matilda and have known her for ever. We get on. I think it would work. I could certainly handle the girl-talk situations way better than you.’

How acutely had she felt the loss of her mother when
she’d been going through what Matilda had gone through? How desperately had she longed for her mother’s advice, for her words of wisdom? She wanted to be there for Matilda. She wanted to be her mother.

Lawson looked at her incredulously. ‘And how would you ever get overseas then, Victoria? What about what you want? How long would it take you to resent me being tied here with Matilda?’

‘The last time I looked they actually did allow minors to travel on planes, Lawson.’

He shook his head. ‘She has her school and all her friends here. I know firsthand what it’s like to be dragged from pillar to post, to live in constant upheaval. I’m not going to do that to her. I can’t just pick her up and move her to the other side of the world.’

‘I’m not talking about moving. I’m talking about holidays. Yes, my plan was to live in London, work there. But do you really think I care how I see it? Not when I can have you, too. I understand your responsibilities. Love that you put Matilda’s needs first.’ She saw him flinch at the L word and felt a jab in the vicinity of her heart. He was obviously still not ready to hear it. ‘It’s one of the many things I like about you.’

Lawson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was willing to sacrifice what she wanted for him? He didn’t want that responsibility. He didn’t want to be the one she hated in years to come because she hadn’t followed her plan. ‘So you’re giving up on your dreams?’

Vic shook her head. ‘I’m compromising, Lawson. That’s what you do when you find someone worthy. Are you willing to meet me halfway?’

Lawson felt as if there were a rusty knife in his chest
and she were twisting the handle. And deep down the well of feeling he’d felt blossom earlier pushed against the bounds he’d placed around it. He knew what was best for her. He was older. Had seen more. Lived more. He knew she’d regret it if she didn’t follow her dreams.

He looked away from her and pushed the side button on his radio. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero. ETA two minutes.’

Vic shook her head. Apparently the conversation was over.

‘Victoria. Wait.’

Vic kept walking. It was the end of the shift. They’d worked through their break and done two hours’ overtime. Without speaking to each other. She was beat. Physically and emotionally. And after their earlier conversation she didn’t want to talk to Lawson. Hell, right at this moment, she’d be happy never to see him again.

Lawson followed. He didn’t want to leave it like this. ‘Victoria.’

She pushed the unlock button on her key ring and reached for the car door. Lawson’s big hand appeared in front of her, pushing against the frame as she tried to pull it open.

‘Wait.’ He had things he wanted to say. He just didn’t know what. Or how.

His voice was rough, full of pleading, and his breath was warm on her neck. She didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t speak, just dragged in deep breaths, her senses filling with him.

Lawson could feel the warmth radiating from her body and his hand moved to her hip of its own volition.
‘I do have…feelings for you,’ he murmured, his lips close to her neck. ‘But every time I go to examine them a part of me says they’re wrong.’

Vic’s heart banged in her ribcage. Was he about to be honest with her? With himself. She turned slowly. He didn’t make any move to step back and she felt a wild trill of anticipation trip through her veins.

‘You’re…special to me. And I know it’s not just because I’ve known you for ever or you’re my partner. I know it’s more than that.’

She could see he was trying hard to find the right words and she was grateful. But why was it so hard to say what was in his heart? ‘Well. Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.’

He gave her a grim smile. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how you were with Matilda today. You’re right. You’re good with her. You’re good for her. She needs a strong woman in her life.’

Vic stiffened. This was about Matilda? What about what he wanted in his life? She straightened and pushed away from the car, forcing him to step back.

‘I don’t want you to want me because I’m good with Matilda or because I love her and she patently adores me. She has plenty of strong women in her life. She has Dorothy and her aunt and she has me anyway whether I’m with you or not. I want you to want me because you can’t live another day without me.’

Lawson swallowed. After twenty years of his thinking of her in a totally platonic way, she was asking a lot.

Vic shook her head, a surge of anger rising in her throat at his hesitancy. What had she expected from a man who never verbalised his feelings?

‘You know what—screw you. I thought if I hung in there I could wear you down. But I don’t think you’re ever going to change, are you?’ He stood there passively looking at her and she wanted to scream. ‘Why should I have to erode your exterior until you finally give in? I want you to look inside and break through all the outer bullshit by yourself.’

She yanked her door open. ‘Don’t talk to me until you’re ready to face your real feelings. Not about Matilda or what you think is best for me or what you know my father wants. Your real feelings. The ones you’re too afraid to examine.’

Then she slipped into her car and slammed the door shut. As an afterthought, rage still bubbling in her veins, she wound the car window down. ‘I think you were right a few weeks ago. Maybe we should change partners.’ And she gunned the engine and took off in a hail of gravel.

The next morning Lawson sat in the staffroom and watched as Carl and Victoria left on a job together. Carl had his arm around her shoulder as they joked about something. Her laughter tinkled towards him and Lawson wanted to break Carl’s arm into little pieces.

A red-hot ball of burning bile rose in his chest and that was when it hit him. He loved her. He’d been hiding from it, fighting it since she’d confessed to deeper feelings for him, but it would no longer be denied.

It hadn’t seemed right to admit it before now as he’d struggled with the confines of their old relationship. As he’d grappled with the way he’d always seen her—Bob’s daughter, his partner—to the way she wanted him to see her.

But watching her with someone else, their old dynamic blown to pieces, he knew it deep down in his bones.

Loving her suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She was his. She belonged to him. In an ambulance next to him. In his bed every night. In his life. He couldn’t live another day without her.

He quickly formulated a plan to woo her, to win her back. He just hoped it wasn’t too late. He hoped his indecision hadn’t lost her for good.

Vic went to retrieve her backpack from her locker at the end of her shift and found a note doubled over and taped to the front. She pulled it off the metal and unfolded it, her heart thundering in her chest as she recognised Lawson’s slashing scrawl.

She read the note over and over, her hands trembling. She’d told him she didn’t want to talk until he was ready to face his feelings. Was that what this was? Or was it just another excuse to talk her into leaving? Wouldn’t he have signed it
love Lawson
if it were about them? But then why would he? Overt signs of emotion weren’t his style. She knew that. She’d always known that.

After her tenth read-through she screwed it up and threw it in the nearby bin. She should leave him hanging. Make him come get her if he was serious about it. But she knew she wasn’t strong enough to resist the lure of the note. The possibility in his words.

Our special place
. She didn’t have to ask him to know where he was talking about. Was that how he saw it? Their special place? And if so what did that mean exactly?

Half an hour later, after a quick trip home for a shower and change, she was walking down the beach, her pulse pounding as loudly as the surf far down the beach. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach like grains of sand swirling in the current.

It was darker tonight, the moon a thin sliver in the sky. The rocks loomed ahead of her in the night and in her hand she clutched a torch so she didn’t break her neck scrambling over them in the scant light.

But she needn’t have bothered. A warm orange glow illuminated the rocks and lit a path to the secluded cove. When it came into sight she could hear the crackle of a fire and see Lawson, his hands burrowed into his pockets, staring into the flickering flames.

‘Hi.’

Lawson looked up. She was standing on the rocks looking down at him, the glow from the fire caressing her cheekbones and glistening in her lip gloss. ‘You came.’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

He moved, covering the distance from the fire to the rocks in three easy strides. He reached up for her and she leaned down, placing her hands on his shoulder as his hands encircled her waist. He lowered her down, her body sliding along every inch of his.

Until today he would have ignored the way his body responded, but right now he revelled in his arousal. She
stood in his arms for several seconds, looking up into his face, and he ducked his head to claim her lips.

When she turned her face to the side and moved out of his arms he let her go even though his body urged him to pull her closer. He had some ground to make up tonight and he was not going to blow it this time.

Vic moved towards the fire. She noticed a picnic blanket and a basket set up under the overhang. Her pulse throbbed in her temple as hope surged through her system. It was very romantic and she had to stop herself from turning around and running into his arms.

Lawson brushed past her. He dropped to his knees under the overhang and opened the basket. ‘Do you prefer pink marshmallows or white?’

Vic gave a half-smile. ‘They all look the same colour after they’ve been on fire.’

‘Ah.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re a burner, not a toaster.’

His laugh brought goose bumps to her skin. It was so good to hear. She wanted to spend the rest of her life listening to it.

He turned and sat on the rug holding out a long thin stick and patted the space beside him. ‘Care to join me?’

Vic took a few seconds. It looked so inviting. A bonfire in her favourite spot with the man she loved. Surely he wouldn’t bring her here, take the time to set it all up if he were going to give her a ‘let’s-just-stay-friends’ speech.

She crossed her fingers behind her back and walked to where he sat. She took the proffered stick but kept a little distance between them when she chose her spot on the rug.

For the next ten minutes they compared techniques and generally avoided any personal conversation.
Lawson liked to gently brown all over, turning the stick repeatedly above the flame as it slowly toasted. Vic preferred to plunge the stick into the guts of the fire and wait for it to catch light.