Outback Dreams (32 page)

He clicked his seatbelt into place, turned the key in the ignition and immediately placed his spare hand on her knee. It tingled, sending a rush of warmth all over her body. ‘So, Forrester, are you really tired or did you simply want to get me alone?'

‘Cocky, aren't you?' She paused a moment. ‘But one hundred per cent correct. There's something I need to tell you.'

‘Go on.' Monty reversed out his drive and started down the street. ‘As long as you don't say you want a pastel pink bedspread and lacy pillowcases, we'll be sweet.'

Something between a snort and a laugh slipped from her lips. ‘Hell no.' Then it was her turn to pause. This wasn't an easy thing to say. They'd been so consumed with joy at finally being together, and with the ball and the move, they hadn't even talked about a family.

‘What is it, Faith?'

‘I think I might be pregnant.'

Monty swerved the vehicle as if dodging a kangaroo, except the road was clear in front of them. He didn't say a word.

Placing a hand against her racing heart, Faith said, ‘Maybe you should pull over. I guess this is a bit of a shock.'

Heeding her advice, he stopped in a gravel layaway at the side of the dark, empty road. They sat there, breathing in the silence. ‘When you say “might", what exactly do you mean?' he asked after a few heartbeats.

She took a breath. ‘Well, when your mum mentioned grandchildren back there, I realised I haven't had my period in almost two months. I was due a couple of weeks after we went down south.'

‘But I thought you were on the pill.' His tone put her on the defensive.

‘I am. But it's not one hundred per cent fail-safe, you know.'

‘Okay…' He spoke slowly as if he were trying to work out how to deal with a major problem.

‘Look, I don't know for sure, but it wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? We might not have planned having kids this soon, but we're both almost thirty years old. We're healthy, secure, in love.'

‘I thought you didn't want children.'

She blinked. ‘I don't know where you got that idea from. I love kids. I wouldn't coach the netball team if I didn't.'

‘But … when we were kids you said babies bored you. That you couldn't see the point of them.'

Faith burst out laughing. He had the best memory of anyone she knew, but… ‘I was what? Ten years old? Twelve? I was hardly thinking seriously about motherhood. It was probably more like babies scared me. But no, I want children as much as the next person.' She swallowed. ‘And I want to have them with you.'

She waited for Monty to laugh as well. To say something reassuring like, yes he loved her too, and that was exactly what he wanted. That this was simply a shock, or rather a surprise—a surprise was a much sweeter way of looking at it. But he remained deafeningly silent.

She scratched an itchy spot on her hand, played with the collar of her jumper and tensed as her heart began to pound. His silence spoke volumes.

‘I…' Her mouth remained open but no more words came out. She swallowed, desperate to rid it of its sudden dryness. Nausea reared in her belly but she ignored it. Finally, she tried again, ‘I guess you don't want to have a family with me then?'

Her hand rested protectively on her belly, which was ridiculous because she might have nothing to protect, but it was instinctual.

‘I didn't say that.' Monty turned abruptly in his seat.

With no streetlights on the wide country road, the only light came from the ute's headlights shining ahead and she couldn't read the expression on his face.

‘It's not you. I love you, Faith, but…' He paused. ‘Look, as you said, you might not even be pregnant. We'll get the test and then we'll work out what to do about it.'

He put his hand on the gear stick ready to take off again.

‘Hang on a minute, what do you mean “work out what to do about it"?' She brought her hand down on his. Her heartbeat was thumping in her ears. ‘You're not suggesting we might … not have it?'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘You didn't have to.' She tried to slow her breathing. ‘Don't you want to have children?'

There was another long pause.

‘I'm sorry, Faith, but I'm not sure.'

He may as well have shot her point blank between the eyes. ‘Are you serious? Why?'

It didn't make sense. He was so warm and fun and full of life. He'd grown up in a loving family, and it seemed only natural that one day he'd have his own.

‘Oh, my God.' She bit her bottom lip, suddenly recalling the conversation she'd overheard him having with Ruby in the restaurant. ‘It's because of Will, isn't it?'

This was not a conversation Monty wanted to be having in the dark at the side of the road. He didn't really want to have it at all. Somehow, blinded by his feelings, he'd ignored the fact that most people saw children as an inevitable part of any normal relationship.

How could he have been so stupid? Faith had professed her desire for a boyfriend, a husband, numerous times over the last year. Of course she'd want a family as well.

At the thought of telling her his innermost fear, his chest burned as if he were experiencing the worst kind of heartburn, but she'd looked straight into his eyes and asked him outright. She deserved the truth.

‘Yes. I suppose.' He let out a drawn-out breath. Swallowed. He wished he could feel differently about his life, but he knew some things were impossible to change.

‘Talk to me, Monty. This is huge.' There was an edge to her voice, and he imagined it a mixture of anger, disappointment and sadness.

‘Here? Now?'

‘I don't think there's any perfect place for this type of conversation. Do you?'

He switched off the engine. ‘I know you love Will. And I love him too, but you have no idea what it was like growing up with him. He came first in every single decision Mum and Dad ever made. What we ate for dinner, where we went on holiday, the type of music I was allowed to play in the house. He'd have a meltdown if things didn't go his way, and there was never anyone to be with me because they had to look after him. When I went out, I had to take him, look out for him, so I never got to make friends of my own.'

‘You had me.'

‘I meant in Perth. Where we moved because Will needed early intervention therapy and a school that had more resources to deal with him.' Monty couldn't keep the caustic tone out of his voice. ‘If it hadn't been for Will, we'd never have sold the farm and I wouldn't have had to work my arse off the last ten years to get back what should have been mine all along.'

She gasped. ‘Monty, just listen to yourself

‘You don't understand. And that's why I've never said any of this before. Because no one would. You just can't.'

‘Oh, can't I?' She took an angry breath. ‘Try being a girl and watching your brother get priority to work on the family farm. Forrester's Rock might still be in our family but it will never be mine.
Never
. Life isn't always handed to you on a silver platter, Monty.'

‘I know that, Faith. You think I don't know that? But there are certain things that
are
within our control. I might not be able to change the past and get back my family's land, but I can sure as hell make sure I don't have to give up Clancy's Breakaway for anyone.'

‘You're not making any sense. Why in hell would you have to give up Clancy's Breakaway? Having kids would only complete the dream. You'd be starting your own legacy. You'd be able to pass on your love of the land and raise someone who wanted to keep it going long after you're gone.'

‘And what if there's something wrong with that child?' He nodded towards her stomach. ‘They don't know yet whether autism is genetically passed on or not.'

‘Then I will love it with all my heart and do whatever it takes to protect it. Just like your parents have with Will.'

‘Exactly.' He sighed. ‘Which means if it is like Will, or even suffers another disability, you will seek all the opportunities you can to help it. If that's expensive or time-consuming, maybe you'll want me to sell Clancy's Breakaway like my parents sold their place.'

Although it hurt, and probably always would, Monty admired the way his parents had sacrificed so much for Will. The problem was, he didn't know if he had the emotional capacity to do the same … and that scared the bejeesus out of him. Even though he loved Will, he'd never been able to move completely past the resentment of the things he'd lost because of him. What if he had a child and came to resent it?

‘That is absurd,' she scoffed. ‘Who even thinks like that? You're insane. What if the child is perfect and we abort it because it might not be? Have you thought of that? Or what if something happens to me? Maybe I have a farm accident that leaves me crippled, and I need you to sell the farm and look after me. Will you resent
me
forever?'

‘Of course not.' But even as he said it, he wondered if he would. Faith meant the world to him, but what if something happened and she stood between him and his dreams?

‘If I didn't need my sleep for the ball tomorrow, I would get out and walk home,' Faith fumed. ‘But maybe I'd be just as well hitching a ride because right now I feel like I'm sitting next to a stranger. I can't believe you never mentioned any of this before. All these years I thought I knew you, and I couldn't have been more wrong.'

‘You do know me.' He reached for her, wanting to hold her and apologise—wanting desperately for it to be all right— but she flinched and pulled away so hard she rammed against the ute door.

If only they hadn't slept together. If only they'd both been content to leave it at friends.

‘I'm sorry, Faith.' The apology sounded inadequate but he meant it more than anything in the world. ‘If you're pregnant, we'll get through it. I'll provide for you both financially and—'

‘I don't care about your money. A baby needs more than financial security.'

He wanted to tell her that he would do his utmost to be the kind of father her baby deserved, but maybe it was best she'd cut him off. When your girlfriend told you she was pregnant, you were supposed to be over the moon, but fear had been his overriding emotion. Whatever way he said it, he'd already told her the damning truth, and he couldn't take that back, no matter how much he wanted to. Or how much he wished it weren't true.

He couldn't change something that was such an innate part of him any more than he could change the past.

Starting the ute again, Monty swung back onto the road. The silence rang out until he could bear it no longer. ‘Do you still want me to be your date tomorrow night?'

‘Not really,' she answered bluntly. ‘Right now I can barely stand to look at you, but I don't want to ruin everyone else's night. Your mum was so excited about us being together, it's going to break her heart to find out we're not. Let's leave it till after the weekend.'

‘Okay. Thanks. And what about the … baby?' He had to force that last word out. No matter what she thought of him, he would never shirk his responsibilities. ‘Would you like me to buy you a pregnancy test tomorrow or see if Doctor McDonald will see you on the weekend?'

‘Forget about the pregnancy test, Monty. You've made your position clear. Forget about the baby. And while you're at it, you might as well forget about me.'

Once again sleep eluded Faith, but this time she was living the nightmare. She'd run from Monty's ute, up the garden path, slammed the door and headed straight for her room. Thankfully, Frank and Ryan hadn't arrived yet, so there was no one to catch her with tears streaming down her cheeks. She stripped naked and tugged on one of Cassie's old nightgowns—one she'd worn for weeks after her mother died. As she slipped the silky gown over head, she felt a twinge low in her belly. She placed a hand against the spot. The cramp surged at her touch, the pain shooting deeper.

For a second she wondered if she was miscarrying and then she realised.

Period pains. How stupid she'd been to think that one night of unprotected sex could have done it.

There was no baby.

Her heart sank as she yanked the nightgown off and traipsed out of her room, down the hall and into the bathroom where her assumption was confirmed. She opened the cupboard and grabbed a tampon. As the house was still quiet, she headed into the kitchen, threw a heat pack into the microwave and waited for the ping before taking it back to her bedroom. She needed it for comfort as much as pain. Sliding into bed, Faith glanced at the photo on her dresser and wished more than ever that Cassie was still with her.

‘Oh, Mum.'

She wanted to be held, to be cradled in her mother's arms. For her mum to stroke her hair and tell her that somehow all this wasn't as bad as it seemed. But even if she hadn't died, Cassie couldn't have given her the comfort Faith really needed, because this time it was never going to be okay.

She'd lost everything tonight.

It wasn't just the baby that had been oh-so-real in her heart—if only for an hour—it was the realisation that what she'd always believed about Monty was a lie. He'd known every fear, dream and disappointment she owned. She'd told him things she'd never told anyone else, yet he'd had this massive, secret resentment festering inside him all these years. Perhaps she should have known. If she were a better friend—if they were as close as she'd always thought—he wouldn't have had to tell her; she'd have felt it herself.

A sob slipped from her lips and she slid farther down under her covers, hugging the heat pack against her aching heart. She tried to work out how they could get past this, but it seemed impossible. They'd been through too much. After the week of utter bliss she'd just experienced, there was no way she could go back to who she'd been before.