Adam’s Boys (6 page)

Adam gazed at Pete in sheer wonder, uncharacteristically happy in the company of his new school friend. And what was there not to be happy about? For with every passing minute Adam was discovering that Henry McCarthy was a seriously great kid. Whatever Abbie had done in raising him, it was nothing short of magic.

Had she had any help in parenting him though?

There was Aunty Maeve of course. He suspected Abbie's aunt would have played a big part in raising her grand-nephew. For Adam knew that Maeve had embraced her role as mother to her niece when Abbie's mother had died and her father had abandoned her to that god-awful foster home when she was little more than six.

As for Henry's father, Justin had told him years ago that the guy who'd come into Abbie's life soon after he'd gone home to the UK had shown no interest in the baby born out of their unplanned pregnancy. Yet despite the early setbacks, Henry was living proof that Abbie had tackled single parenthood with her usual zeal.

“Henry's pretty good at cooking, isn't he, Dad?” Pete declared happily as Henry began to fill the patty-pans without spilling a drop.

“He sure is,” Adam agreed readily. “Who taught you, Henry?”

“My mum. She's really good. Do you cook at home?” Henry asked, turning to Pete.

Pete shook his head. “We have a cook.”

“No way!” Henry shouted. “That's so cool.”

“I'm not sure you'd like Pete's cook,” Adam offered reassuringly. “She makes him eat a lot of vegetables.”

“Yes, and muesli with sultanas. I hate sultanas!” Pete declared.

“Do you have other people working for you?”

“At home with my grandparents—six.”

“Six!” Henry echoed in wonder. “We couldn't even fit six in this house.”

“I like your house,” Pete said in a matter of fact tone. “And you're lucky because you have a cool mum who teaches you how to cook.”

“Where's your mum?”

“She died when I was a baby.”

“Oh that's bad,” Henry replied sincerely. “But you have a dad—I wish I had one of those.”

“So what else does a cool mum do, Pete?” Adam asked, uncomfortable about Henry chatting about the lack of a father in his life when Abbie wasn't around to put a check on her son's forthcoming nature.

“Cool mums do stuff like taking you fishing, teaching you how to cook and telling funny jokes,” Pete offered decidedly.

“Yeah, my mum does all that. But she does other stuff too,” Henry elaborated. “She's really good at making up songs with silly words. They are
so
funny!” Henry then erupted into peals of laughter, clearly calling to mind one of his favourites.

“Yep, that sounds like a cool mum,” Adam muttered, contemplating the lighthearted side to Abbie that Henry described with such jubilation—the side he'd never given her a chance to show him during their three short weeks together.

The boys didn't hear his response because they were now laughing uproariously at the fact Pete had managed to splatter cake mixture all over his shirt and tie. Adam was soon resigning himself to yet another load of washing in the next twelve hours.

But as his thoughts drifted around those domestic duties that were a never-ending avalanche in his life, Adam watched the two boys interacting happily in their own little world. And as he watched them, he became steadily convinced that nurturing his son's friendship with Henry McCarthy for the short time they'd be in Australia might turn out to be the healing medicine he'd been looking for to find Pete's smile again.

Yet how could he think Abbie would ever agree to it? Hadn't she made it clear that afternoon she wanted as little to do with him as possible? And who would blame her, after the way he'd treated her? She owed him nothing—nothing at all.

Despite Abbie's looming resistance, Adam just couldn't let go of the idea. Because nothing could be more important than Pete's happiness. Not when he'd promised his wife he'd make sure their baby boy grew up strong and happy. After robbing Ellen of her last chance at life, Adam would never let anything stand in the way of that.

Over a hundred and two degrees of unforgiving heat hummed in radiating, choking waves off every surface. It sucked the colour, the energy and every last drop of moisture out of everything.

And yet one hundred and two degrees or not, it was business as usual in Sydney: kids played, teachers taught, builders laboured and office workers pulled on three-piece business suits.

But Adam knew he was not as stalwart as the average Sydney-sider when it came to Australia's unrelenting summer heat. In fact, he had an almost overwhelming hankering at that moment to be back in England, walking along one of the quiet country lanes where he'd grown up—everything around him cool, lush and green, the freezing drizzle running down his neck in icy rivulets—it was not to be, of course. His obligations in Sydney would hold him captive for at least another couple of months before he and Pete could finally head for home.

Sighing heavily, Adam stripped off his tie. Rolling it into a ball he tossed it into his car, tore open his top button and wandered across to the school fence.

In the distance he could see Abbie.

She was chatting to two other mothers as she waited for Henry to emerge through the front doors of St James' Prep at the end of his first official day of school. She was wearing a simple white shift dress, a pair of rubber thongs and a large straw hat. But what struck Adam was that in the stifling heat she somehow managed to look fresh and cool, when everyone around her looked hot and bothered.

At that moment the school doors opened. Teachers marched out into the front playground. Gambolling children followed behind like puppies.

Pete and Henry appeared together. They were wearing cardboard headbands around their foreheads with a bright red apple cut-out pasted on the front. Adam guessed they'd learnt about the letter ‘A' that day.

The two boys chatted to each other as their eyes roamed the crowd of parents like spotlights. Adam could see Pete mouth the words ‘there's your mum' and wave eagerly at Abbie, losing himself in a rare moment of unselfconscious happiness at spotting a familiar face.

The two boys started running towards her, but moments later, as Pete careered along the path, he tripped and fell forward onto the pavement with a bone jarring crash, the contents of his open school bag spilling out around him.

Adam's heart soared into his mouth as he started forward, bracing himself for the rest of his boy's day that had just been mapped out. For as always, the shock of a tumble would overwhelm Pete so completely that he would be teary and fragile until bedtime.

But as suddenly as Adam had started forward, he stopped dead again. Abbie was already heading for Pete lying prone on the ground, his face buried in his hands as he sobbed inconsolably. And for some reason Adam couldn't move another inch in his son's direction, struck motionless by a burning need to know how the mother of Henry—the most together little kid he'd ever met—would deal with the emotional disintegration of his own child as it unfolded before her eyes.

Crouching beside Pete, Abbie took his hand gently in hers and spoke to him for a few minutes in words that Adam had no hope of hearing; they were the longest minutes of Adam's life. Yet just as he decided he couldn't stand back and watch his son in distress for another second, an incredible thing happened.

Pete's bottom began to rise slowly into the air as he drew his knees beneath himself and then he stood up in front of Abbie. His face contorted as several sobs wracked his body—the usual lead-in to the hysteria that would escalate from that point. But Abbie lifted a steady finger and pressed it against her own lips as she drew in a breath. In the next instant Pete was pressing his finger against his own lips too, taking a deep breath and holding it. Then after ten seconds or so he released the breath in a rush, laughed suddenly and tumbled into Abbie's outstretched arms.

Henry joined them as she wrapped herself around the two of them in equal measure. And as their reunion rolled out like a silent movie, Adam reeled at the visible onslaught of Abbie's warm gift with children. But at that moment Henry and Pete spotted him. Peeling themselves off Abbie, they ran out the front gate and tore down the footpath in his direction.

Pretending not to notice them approaching, Adam waited until they were almost on top of him before he picked them both up by their waists and swung them upside down like a pair of fruit bats. Then with a wriggling, laughing boy wrapped securely under each of his arms, he wandered over to Abbie. But in spite of the boys' hoopla she looked perturbed to see him.

“Hello, Adam,” she said frowning, avoiding his eyes as she stared out across the emptying school playground.

“Abbie,” he murmured back with the briefest of acknowledgments, doubting all over again that she'd ever agree to his friendship proposal for the boys when she could barely bring herself to look at him.

“Can we go to the beach and have an ice-cream, Mum?” Henry cried out from where he still hung happily suspended from under Adam's right arm.

“Yes, why don't we, Abbie?” Adam agreed, challenging her in the face of her stony reaction to his arrival. “I've got board shorts and towels in the back of the car. We can talk down at the beach while the boys have a swim. There's really no need to drag ourselves into the office for this meeting of ours later, is there?”

“But I can't talk to you at the beach, not with the boys around,” Abbie argued straight back at him, her voice edged with strain. “And I rang Justin's secretary and made an appointment for five o'clock today, just as you asked me too. The room's booked and everything …” she trailed off, running a trembling hand through her hair in a rare moment of visible turmoil.

“But we're both here now!” Adam argued gently, at a loss as to why she was so hell bent on the formality of an office meeting. After all, the beach would keep the boys busy and presumably give her the time and space to say what she needed to say.

“It's just … being all together …” she finished, and then turning her head looked off into the distance again, a picture of unhappiness.

“Well, why wait? Anyway, I have something important I need to talk to you about too,” he added, lowering the two squirming boys onto the nature strip.

Abbie opened her mouth to object but then snapped it shut again. Adam wasn't sure whether she'd opted for silence to avoid making a scene in front of the boys or because she'd simply changed her mind. But whatever it was, a shadow of finality descended across her expression, deepening the rich golden-brown hues of her eyes.

Within minutes they were on their way to Bronte Beach in the relief of his air-conditioned car. The boys were in the back, chattering happily together. Abbie sat next to him in the front seat, twisted around so that she could ask them both about their day at school. But he could tell from her staccato voice and the quick movements of her hands that she was still very agitated.

Thankfully the traffic was light and he was soon swinging his car into the Bronte Beach car park. The boys changed in the bathrooms and then he and Abbie wandered along the promenade towards a spare bench where they sat down. From there they had a clear view of the boys as they raced down the beach, fashioned a quick sandcastle and then plunged into the sparkling blue water of the rock pool, their laughter and shouting floating across the sand.

“Thank you for helping Pete up at the school just now,” Adam began, taking in Abbie's heart-shaped face in profile as she kept a close eye on the boys paddling towards the sea wall.

“You don't need to thank me,” she replied with a dismissive edge. “I was there and happy to help.”

“Pete doesn't normally recover as quickly as he did with you today.”

“Why not?” she asked in curious distraction, finally turning to him.

“He just doesn't. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle, if you want the truth. Normally he'd be upset for hours after a fall like that. What exactly did you say to him?”

Abbie shrugged. “He seemed to be panicking about his fall so I told him he should lie on the ground until he felt ready to get up. I didn't think any four-year-old boy would want to lie on that hot path for too long and he didn't. He calmed himself down and then he was fine.”

“But Pete was holding his breath …”

“That's just something I do with Henry,” Abbie explained. “It calms him down sometimes when he feels as though he's losing control.”

“So simple,” Adam murmured in wonder.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Anyway, Abbie,” Adam began in a more forceful voice, “you'd better tell me what's on your mind. You look about ready to implode. Then I'll tell you about an idea I have for the boys—I'm hoping you'll agree to it.”

Abbie turned to find him watching her closely with those incredible eyes of his; they were like splashes of the same Pacific Ocean the boys were swimming in at that moment. Then before she knew what was happening, Adam had lifted his hand to trail some loose strands of hair behind her ear with his fingertips. His expression was distant, as though his thoughts had drifted back across many years to another time when they meant something to each other. And even though Abbie's head told her to pull away from his fatal touch, a tsunami of sensation was already coursing across her skin in sentimental response to his small gesture of tenderness.

It would be the last once he knew what she'd done to him.

She hated herself for caring either way.

“Okay, here I go,” Abbie began, her throat hoarse as she wrung her hands together and looked him straight in the eye, “I wanted to talk to you privately at the office, just you and me, because what I'm going to tell you will shock and upset you. But as you said, we're here now. And to be honest, I don't think I can bear to put this conversation off a minute longer anyway.”