The Bridesmaid's Baby (3 page)

‘Don’t worry,’ Mattie was telling her calmly. ‘We haven’t been here long. I’ve just been going over the music with the organist.’

Everything was so suddenly normal and relaxed that Lucy was sure she’d misjudged Will’s reaction. He certainly looked mega-cool and calm now as he greeted her. His light touch on her shoulder as he bent to kiss her and the merest brush of his lips on her cheek scalded her, but Will’s grey eyes were perfectly calm.

He even looked mildly amused when he greeted her. ‘Good to see you again, Lucy.’

In a matter of moments the babies were handed over to the minister’s wife and daughter, who cooed and fussed over them in the front pew, while the members of the wedding party were taken through their paces.

Will, as the best man, would partner Gina. Lucy would process with Tom. So that was a relief. At least she didn’t have to link arms and walk down the aisle with Will at the end of tomorrow’s ceremony.

Lucy had been a bridesmaid twice before so she knew the ropes, but the minister wanted to explain every step of the service, and the rehearsal seemed to drag on and on.

On the plus side, she had time to calm down. This wedding was going to be a cinch. Nothing to get in a twist about.

Anyway, it was the height of self-indulgence to keep thinking about herself. Tomorrow was going to be Mattie’s big day. Lucy, along with the entire population of Willowbank, loved warm-hearted, generous Mattie Carey
and the whole township would probably turn out to watch her marry the hunky man of her dreams.

Lucy didn’t want a single event or unhappy thought to mar this wedding’s perfection.

Will who?

By the time the rehearsal was over, it was already dark outside, with a fragile fingernail moon hanging above the post office clock. The group dispersed quickly. Gina and Tom wanted to hurry home to get their babies settled. Mattie and Jake had to dash away to a special dinner Mattie’s parents were hosting for assorted members of both families.

And Lucy wanted to hurry home to her ‘boys’, as she affectionately called her dogs. The Irish setter and the border collie enjoyed each other’s company but, if she was away for any length of time, they were always frantic to see her.

She was fishing in her pocket for her car keys when she felt a tap on her elbow. She swung around to find herself trapped by Will Carruthers’s smile, like a startled animal caught in a car’s headlights.

‘I haven’t had a proper chance to say hello,’ he said easily. ‘I wanted to know how you are.’

Lucy gulped. ‘I…I’m fine.’ She was grateful that the darkness disguised the flush in her face, but it took a moment to remember to add, ‘Thanks.’ And, a frantic breath later, ‘How about you, Will?’

‘Not bad.’ He gave her another smile and the skin around his eyes crinkled, then he shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets and stood in front of her with his long legs comfortably apart, shoulders wide. So tall and big he made her shiver.

She managed to ask, ‘Are you still working in Mongolia?’

‘Actually, no.’ There was a slight pause and the tiniest
hint of an edgy chuckle. ‘I was there long enough. Decided it’s time for a change, so I’m going to look around for somewhere new.’

The news didn’t surprise Lucy but, after so many years, she’d finally got used to Will’s absence. When he was safely overseas she could almost forget about him. Almost.

Without quite meeting her gaze, Will said, ‘Gina tells me you’ve bought a house.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I bought the old Finnegan place at the end of Wicker Lane.’ She shot him a rueful smile. ‘It’s a renovator’s delight.’

‘Sounds like a challenge.’

‘A huge one.’

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and a glimmer of amusement lingered in his eyes. ‘You were always one for a challenge.’

Lucy wasn’t quite sure what Will meant by this. He might have been referring to the way she’d worked hard at her studies during their long ago friendship at university. Or it could have been a direct reference to the fact that she’d once been engaged to his chick-magnet older brother.

She tried to sound nonchalant. ‘I haven’t managed many renovations on the house yet. But at least there’s plenty of room for my surgery and a nice big yard for the dogs.’

‘How many dogs do you have now?’

She blinked with surprise at his unexpected question. ‘Just the two still.’

‘Seamus and Harry.’

‘That’s right.’

A small silence ticked by and Lucy felt awkward. She knew that if she’d met any other old friend from her schooldays she would have offered an invitation to come back to
her place. They could have shared a simple meal—probably pasta and a salad—eating in the kitchen, which she had at least partially renovated.

They could open a bottle of wine, catch up on old times, gossip about everything that had happened in the intervening years.

But her history with this man was too complicated. To start with, she’d never been able to completely snuff out the torch she carried for him, but that wasn’t her only worry. Eight years ago, she’d made the terrible mistake of getting involved with his brother.

This was not the time, however, on the eve of Mattie and Jake’s wedding, to rehash that sad episode.

From the darkness in the tree-lined creek behind the church a curlew’s mournful cry drifted across the night and, almost as if it was a signal, Will took a step back. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I dare say you won’t be able to avoid it.’

Heavens, why had she said that? It sounded churlish. To make up for the gaffe, Lucy said quickly before he could leave, ‘I’m so happy for Mattie. Jake seems like a really nice guy.’

‘He’s terrific,’ Will agreed. ‘And I’ll have to hand it to Mattie. She succeeded in winning him when many others have failed.’

‘Jake obviously adores her.’

‘Oh, yeah, he’s totally smitten.’ Will looked suddenly uncomfortable and his shoulders lifted in an awkward shrug.

Lucy suspected this conversation was getting sticky for both of them.

‘It’s getting late,’ she said gently. ‘You’d better go. Your mother will have dinner waiting.’

He chuckled. ‘That sounds like something from the dim dark ages when we were at high school.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, but he had already turned and was walking towards the truck.

He opened the squeaky door, then turned again and they both exchanged a brief wave before they climbed into their respective vehicles.

Lucy heard the elderly truck’s motor rise in a harsh rev, then die down into a throaty lumbering growl. Will backed out of the parking spot and drove down the street and as she turned the key in her ute’s ignition, she watched the truck’s twin red tail lights growing smaller.

She remembered the times she’d driven with Will in that old truck of his father’s, bumping over paddocks or down rough country lanes. Together they’d gone fossicking for sapphires, hunting for specks of gold down in the creek. At other times she’d urged him to help her to search for a new sub-species of fish.

They’d been great mates back then, but those days when Lucy had first moved to Willowbank with her dad after her parents’ messy divorce felt like so very long ago now.

She had been sixteen and it was a horrible time, when she was angry with everyone. She’d been angry with her mother for falling in love with her boss, angry with her dad for somehow allowing it to happen, and angry with both of them for letting their marriage disintegrate in a heartbeat.

Most of all Lucy had been angry that she’d had to move away from Sydney to Willowbank. She’d hated leaving her old school and her friends to vegetate in a docile country town.

But then she’d met Will, along with Gina, Tom and Mattie and she’d soon been absorbed into a happy circle
of friends who’d proved that life in the country could be every bit as good as life in the city.

OK, maybe her love of Willowbank had a lot to do with her feelings for Will, but at least she’d never let on how much she’d adored him. Instead, she’d waited patiently for him to realise that he loved her. When he took too long she’d taken matters into her own hands and it had all gone horribly wrong.

But it was so, so unhelpful to be thinking about that now.

Even so, Lucy was fighting tears as she reversed the ute. And, as she drove out of town, she was bombarded by bittersweet, lonely memories.

T
HE
impact of the explosion sent Will flying, tossed him like a child’s rag toy and dumped him hard. He woke with his heart thudding, his nerves screaming as he gripped at the bed sheets.

Bed sheets?

At first he couldn’t think how he’d arrived back in the bedroom of his schooldays, but then he slowly made sense of his surroundings.

He was no longer in Mongolia.

He was safe.

He wished it had all been a nightmare, but it was unfortunately true. He’d been conducting a prospecting inspection of an old abandoned mine when it had blown without warning. By some kind of miracle he’d escaped serious injury, but his two good friends were dead.

That was the savage reality. He’d been to the funerals of both Barney and Keith—one in Brisbane and the other in Ottawa.

He’d been to hell and back sitting in those separate chapels, listening to heartbreaking eulogies and wondering why he’d been spared when his friends had so not deserved to die.

And yet here he was, home at Tambaroora…

Where nothing had changed…

Squinting in the shuttered moonlight, Will could see the bookshelf that still held his old school textbooks. His swimming trophies lined the shelf above the bed, and he knew without looking that the first geological specimens he’d collected were in a small glass case on the desk beneath the window.

Even the photo of him with his brother, Josh, was still there on the dresser. It showed Will squashed onto a pathetic little tricycle that he was clearly too big for, while Josh looked tall and grown-up on his first two-wheeler bike.

Will rolled over so he couldn’t see the image. He didn’t want to be reminded that his brother had beaten him to just about everything that was important in his life. It hadn’t been enough for Josh Carruthers to monopolise their father’s affection, he’d laid first claim on Tambaroora and he’d won the heart of Will’s best friend.

That might have been OK if Josh had taken good care of Lucy.

An involuntary sigh whispered from Will’s lips.

Lucy.

Seeing her again tonight had unsettled him on all kinds of levels.

When he closed his eyes he could see the silvery-white gleam of moonlight on her hair as they’d stood outside the church. He could hear the familiar soft lilt in her voice.

Damn it.
He’d wanted to tell her about the accident. He needed to talk about it.

He hadn’t told his family because he knew it would upset his mother. Jessie Carruthers had already lost one son and she didn’t need the news of her surviving son’s brush with death.

Will could have talked to Jake, of course. They’d worked together in Mongolia and Jake would have understood how upset he was, but he hadn’t wanted to throw a wet blanket on the eve of his mate’s wedding.

No, Lucy was the one person he would have liked to talk to. In the past, they’d often talked long into the night. As students they’d loved deep and meaningful discussions.

Yes, he could have told Lucy what he’d learned at those funerals.

But it was probably foolish to think he could resurrect the closeness they’d enjoyed as students.

After all this time, they’d both changed.

Hell, was it really eight years? He could still feel the shock of that December day when he’d been skiing in Norway and he’d received the news that Lucy and his brother were engaged to be married. He’d jumped on the first plane home.

With a groan, Will flung aside the sheet and swung out of bed, desperate to throw off the memories and the sickening guilt and anger that always accompanied his thoughts of that terrible summer.

But, with the benefit of hindsight, Will knew he’d been unreasonably angry with Josh for moving in on his best friend while his back was turned. He’d had no claim on Lucy. She’d never been his girlfriend. He’d gone overseas with Cara Howard and, although their relationship hadn’t lasted, he’d allowed himself to be distracted by new sights, new people, new adventures.

He’d let life take him by the hand, happy to go with the flow, finding it easier than settling down.

The news that Josh was going to marry Lucy shouldn’t have upset him, but perhaps he might have coped more easily if Lucy had chosen to marry a stranger. As it was,
he’d never been able to shake off the feeling that Josh had moved in on her just to prove to his little brother that he could have whatever he desired.

Unfortunately, Will had chosen the very worst time to have it out with Josh.

He would never, to the end of his days, forget the early morning argument at the airfield, or Josh’s stubbornness, or the sight of that tiny plane tumbling out of the sky like an autumn leaf.

If only that had been the worst of it, but it was Gina who’d told him that the shock of Josh’s death had caused Lucy to have a miscarriage.

A miscarriage?

Will had been plagued by endless questions—questions he’d had no right to ask. Which had come first—the engagement or the pregnancy? Had Josh truly loved Lucy?

A week after the funeral he’d tried to speak to her, but Dr McKenty had been fiercely protective of his daughter and he’d turned Will away.

So the only certainties that he’d been left with were Josh’s death and Lucy’s loss, and he’d found it pitifully easy to take the blame for both.

To make amends, he’d actually tried to stay on at Tambaroora after Josh’s death. But he couldn’t replace Josh in his father’s eyes and he’d soon known that he didn’t fit in any more. He was a piece from a flashy foreign jigsaw trying to fit into a homemade puzzle.

For Will, it had made sense to leave again and to stay away longer. In time, he’d trained himself to stop dwelling on the worst of it. But of course he couldn’t stay away from his home and family for ever and there were always going to be times, like now, when everything came back to haunt him.

Lucy dreamed about Will.

In her dream they were back at Sydney University and they’d met in the refectory for coffee and to compare notes after a chemistry practical.

It was an incredibly simple but companionable scene. She and Will had always enjoyed hanging out together, and in her dream they were sitting at one of the little tables overlooking the courtyard, chatting and smiling and discussing the results of their latest experiments.

When it was time to leave for separate lectures, Lucy announced calmly, as if it was a normal extension of their everyday conversation, ‘Oh, by the way, Will, I’m pregnant.’

Will’s face broke into a beautiful smile and he drew her into his arms and hugged her, and Lucy knew that her pregnancy was the perfect and natural expression of their love.

She felt the special protection of his arms about her and she was filled with a sense of perfect happiness, of wellbeing, of everything being right in her world.

When she woke, she lay very still with her eyes closed, lingering for as long as she could in the happy afterglow of the dream, clinging to the impossible fantasy that she was pregnant.

Better than that, she was pregnant with Will’s baby. Not his brother’s…

The dream began to fade and she could no longer ignore the fact that morning sunlight was pulsing on the other side of her closed eyelids.

Reality reared its unwelcome head.

Damn.

Not that dream again. How stupid.

Actually, it was more like a recurring nightmare, so far divorced from Lucy’s real life that she always felt
sick when she woke. She hated to think that her subconscious could still, after all this time, play such cruel tricks on her.

In truth, she’d never been brave enough to let her friendship with Will progress into anything deeper. At university, she’d seen all the other girls who’d fallen for him. She’d watched Will date them for a while and then move on, and she’d decided it was safer to simply be his buddy. His friend.

As his girlfriend she’d risk losing him and she couldn’t have coped with that. If they remained good friends, she could keep him for ever.

Or so she’d thought.

The plan had serious flaws, of course, which was no doubt why she was still plagued far too often by the dream.

But now, as Lucy opened her eyes, she knew it was time to wake up to more important realities. This wasn’t just any morning. It was Mattie’s wedding day.

This was a day for hair appointments and manicures, helping Mattie to dress and smiling for photographs. This was to be her friend’s perfect day.

Get over it, Lucy.

Get over yourself.

Stifling a lingering twinge of longing for the dream, she threw off the bedclothes, went to the window and looked out. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and filled with sunshine. She smiled.

No more useless longings. No more doleful thoughts.

Surely clear blue skies were a very promising omen?

In Willowbank everyone was abuzz.

With the help of friends and relatives from around the
district, Mattie’s mum had grown masses of white petunias in pots and tubs and even in wheelbarrows.

Lucy happily helped a team of women to unload containers of flowers from their cars and place them strategically in the church and the grounds, as well as the marquee where the reception was to be held in an allotment next to the church hall. The instant floral effect was spectacular.

After that, the morning passed in a happy whirl, much to Lucy’s relief. First, she met up with Mattie and Gina at the hairdresser’s, then they popped into the salon next door for matching manicures, and finally they dashed back to Mattie’s for a delicious light lunch prepared by one of her doting aunts.

During lunch the phone seemed never to stop ringing and all kinds of messages flew back and forth. Gina’s mum, who was babysitting the twins, reported that they’d been fed and burped and were sleeping beautifully. Nurses from the Sydney hospital where the babies had been born rang to wish Mattie and Jake all the best for married life. The caterer had a question about the positioning of the wedding cake on the main table.

Lucy had to admire the way Mattie seemed to float through it all. She was the most serene bride ever. Nothing bothered her or was too much trouble. Mattie had always been sweet and easy-going, but she’d never been as blissfully relaxed and happy and confident as she was today.

It must be love, Lucy thought, and she wished it was contagious.

Shortly after lunch, the excitement really began. Refrigerated boxes arrived from the florist, filled with truly gorgeous bouquets. Then it was time for the girls to put on their make-up, laughing as they took turns in front of
Mattie’s bedroom mirror, the same mirror where years ago they had first experimented with mascara and eyeliner while they’d gossiped about boys.

Back then, Lucy, being older and from the city, had been considered to be wiser and worldlier. The other girls had looked up to her with undisguised respect and considerable awe.

How the tables had turned. Now Gina was married and a mother, and Mattie was about to marry Jake, while Lucy was…

No! She wasn’t going to tolerate a single negative thought today.

When they’d achieved their best with make-up, Gina and Lucy slipped into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which were simply divine. The palest pink duchess satin looked equally pretty on Gina with her dark hair and olive complexion as it did on Lucy, who was blonde and fair-skinned.

Then it was time to fuss over Mattie, to fasten the dozens of tiny satin-covered buttons down her back, to help to secure her veil and then to gasp in sheer astonishment when they saw the completed picture of their best friend in her wedding gown.

‘You look absolutely breathtaking,’ Lucy whispered.

Gina was emotional. ‘You’re so beautiful Jake’s going to cry when he sees you.’

‘Please don’t say that.’ Mattie laughed nervously. ‘You’ll make
me
cry.’

‘And me,’ moaned Lucy.

Already, at the mere thought of an emotional bridegroom, she could feel mascara-threatening tears about to spill.

Oh, help.
Weddings were such poignant affairs. And
today Will was going to be there, looking dashing as the best man. How on earth was she going to get through the next few hours?

Dressed in matching dark formal suits with silver ties and orange blossoms in their lapels, Jake, Will and Tom were ushered into the minuscule vestry and instructed to wait till it was time to take their places at the front of the church.

Will anxiously patted a pocket in his suit jacket. ‘The rings are still safe.’

Jake grinned and laid a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘That’s the third time you’ve checked the rings in the past five minutes. Relax, man, they’re not going to grow legs and run away.’

‘Jake’s the guy who’s supposed to be nervous,’ added Tom with a grin.

Will nodded and tried to smile. ‘Sorry. Don’t know what’s got into me.’ He shot Jake a questioning glance. ‘Aren’t you even a little nervous?’

‘Why should I be nervous?’

‘You’re getting married.’ Will wished his voice wasn’t so hoarse. His sleepless night was really getting to him. ‘It’s par for the course for a bridegroom to have the jitters,’ he said.

‘But I’m marrying Mattie,’ Jake responded simply, as if that explained everything. And his glowing smile made it patently clear that he knew, without doubt, he was the luckiest man alive.

Will wished he felt a fraction of his mate’s happiness.

‘So where are you heading for your honeymoon?’ he asked. ‘Or is that a state secret?’

Jake grinned. ‘The exact location is a surprise for
Mattie, but I’ll tell you two.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m taking her to Italy. She’s never been overseas, so we’re going to Venice, Lake Como and the Amalfi Coast.’

‘Wow!’ Tom’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s so over the top it’s fabulous. You’ll have an amazing time.’

Jake nodded happily but, before he could say anything else, the minister appeared at the vestry door and sent them a smiling wink. ‘Could you come this way now please, gentlemen?’