Two Against the Odds (10 page)

Tears seeped from beneath her closed lids.

It was no good trying to meditate in a parking lot on a busy street when she was distressed. She started the car and set off for Summerside, glad of the distraction of dealing with traffic to take her mind off Rafe, her taxes, the baby.

Gradually an icy calm settled over her. She would do what she had to do to survive.

When she got home she went around her studio and house and rounded up every seascape painting she'd completed. There were five—two of Mornington Pier and the fishing boats, one of Summerside village, one of the creek among the trees behind her house with the cool green filtered light.

The fifth was the full moon rising above Summerside Beach while the sky was aglow with sunset. When she pulled that one out she had to concentrate so hard not to cry that she got a headache.

Don't think about him.

She cleared the long trestle table and brought out colored sheets of mat board, the mat cutter, a ruler and a pencil. She spent the rest of the day framing the paintings.

Sienna's portrait sat propped on its easel to one side, a reminder of what she wanted to be doing. But she didn't have the luxury anymore of doing only what she wanted. Still it was a dilemma—the guaranteed but small income from the commercial
paintings, or the uncertain but potentially large cash prize of the Archibald.

Somehow, she had to do both. As she worked she calculated in her head how much she could hope to earn from the sale of these paintings. She would put it toward the usual food, mortgage and utility bills plus save a portion for the baby and a portion for her tax bill. She didn't know what she'd do if her earnings didn't cover everything. Paint faster?

A painting under each arm, she crossed the lawn and rounded the side of the house into the carport. She'd just opened the trunk of her car when the phone rang. She raced inside to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lexie,” Jack said. “How's everything?”

“You're back! Welcome home. I'm fine,” she added. She wasn't ready to tell anyone else about her pregnancy.

“Can you come for dinner tonight? A kind of post-wedding, post-honeymoon celebration. Just the family.”

She was dead tired but this was special if Jack was issuing a formal invitation. “Sure, I can make it. Are Mum and Dad both coming?”

“Yes.” Jack said firmly. “Sienna and I want tonight to be an opportunity for the two of them to be together without any outside influences, if you catch my drift.”

“That's a great idea.” She glanced at the wall
clock. “Jack, I've got to run to the gallery before it closes. I'll see you tonight.”

The Manyung Gallery held major shows of one or two prominent artists at a time. They usually ran for six weeks. They also carried paintings and sculptures from local artists—including Lexie—on an ongoing basis. Normally Samuel, the owner, didn't have space for more than three or four.

Tall and spare with thinning blond hair, Samuel was dressed in a pale pink shirt and tan pants. He was standing before a painting, discussing it with a potential customer, an older woman in a dark blue dress. Lexie carried two of her paintings inside, nodding to him.

Seeing her carrying in paintings, he frowned before turning back to his customer. When she went back out to the car and came back with three more, he handed the woman to his young blonde assistant, Tanya.

“Lexie, love,” Samuel said, hurrying over. “I can't take any more of your paintings till the others sell.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your wall is still full. Come and see for yourself.”

Fear seized her. She'd been so busy with Rafe and her portrait she hadn't paused to wonder why she hadn't heard about any sales.

Samuel led her to the alcove where her paintings
were always hung. Three paintings. Not one bore a little orange Sold sticker.

“I did as you asked and raised the price. Nothing's moved.” He crossed his arms, eyebrows lifted, letting her draw her own conclusions.

Lexie's heart sank. This was a huge setback. She'd been counting on these sales to pay this month's bills. Summer and early autumn were her most profitable months, when tourists came to holiday on the peninsula. If she couldn't sell now…

This is what she got for being greedy. No, not greedy. She'd been showing off in front of Rafe, not wanting him to think she didn't have a business bone in her body.

She smiled weakly, feeling sick inside. “I guess I owe you a bottle of pinot noir.”

“What do you want to do?” Samuel said. “Shall we lower the price a tad?”

Lexie nodded heavily. “Drop them to where they'll sell.”

Then she had to watch while he took out a pen and slashed the price.

She gestured to her new paintings. “Can you store these until there's space to hang them?”

“Carry them into the back room. I'll get the book to record what we've got.” Samuel started to move toward the reception desk then paused. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

Lexie forced a smile, knowing it didn't reach her
eyes. “I'm wonderful. Couldn't be better. Excuse me, I'll just use your washroom before I go.”

“You take care.” Samuel gave her a hug and walked away.

Lexie went into the public restroom and found a cubicle. She'd forgotten how often she'd had to pee when she was last pregnant; every hour it seemed. She pulled down her underwear and her breath caught in her throat.

Bright red blood stained her white panties.

S
WAYING SLIGHTLY
on his stool, Rafe held up a finger to the bartender Rick…or Rob—a forty-something man with a shaved head whose neutral expression never seemed to vary. “'Nother round.”

By the time he'd gotten back to the office after talking to Lexie, Larry had gone off to a meeting that Pat told him would likely last most of the afternoon. Rafe had headed straight to the bar. He'd been drinking shots of tequila with a beer chaser ever since. Chris had come out with him for a couple of hours before heading off to meet Laura.

Rafe downed another tequila. After Chris left he'd wandered the street going from pub to pub and ended up downstairs in Jackson's. The Friday after-work crowd swirled around him at the long polished bar, eating tapas and drinking cocktails.

Every so often the thought reared up and smacked him in the head. He was going to be a father.

“I don' wanna be a father,” he said to the bartender, “I have plans. I'm too young to settle down. Too frickin' young. Aren't I, Rick?”

“My name is Raoul.” He had an accent—Spanish?
His hands moved like a magician's as he poured vodka and three or four other ingredients into a cocktail shaker.

“Raoouul?” It sounded like a wolf howling. That's what Rafe felt like doing, howling.

“You're drunk.” The woman sitting next to him in a business suit took the frothy pink vodka Raoul handed her and eyed Rafe in disgust. “I pity the woman.”

“Who asked you?” Rafe muttered, and reached for his beer. He glanced up at Raoul. “I asked for another tequila.”

“Sorry, mate,” the bartender said, polishing a glass. “I have to cut you off. I'll call you a cab.”

“Never mind. I'll take the train.” Rafe placed a twenty on the bar and stumbled outside.

The pub was located on the busiest corner in Melbourne. Flinders Street train station, golden domed and ornately Victorian, stood across six lanes of rush hour traffic. Rafe stepped off the curb. Horns blared. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him to the sidewalk.

“Moron,” said the man, and let him go so abruptly Rafe fell to his knees on the pavement.

“He's a drunk,” his wife said, full of revulsion.

“No, I'm a tax accountant,” Rafe said, holding up a finger. “And a fisherman. You wanna see a picture of my boat?”

The light changed. Pedestrians streamed around
him and across the street. Rafe was left on the other side, marooned on his knees, gazing at the crumpled photo of his boat.

 

L
EXIE USUALLY LOVED
dinner parties at Jack's house. Jack and
Sienna's
house, she amended. She had to get used to the changes in her family. Sienna had put her house on the market and moved into Jack's home after they'd returned from their honeymoon in Bali. Sienna's house was in a nicer location but it was smaller and Jack's workshop was right next door to his place.

Jack's dinner parties were full of laughter and conversation and good food. Usually Lexie couldn't wait to get right in the thick of it. Not tonight, though. She never told her family
everything
that went on in her life.

But this was a baby.

She should let them know. She wasn't sure why she hadn't. Probably she was a little embarrassed to have been careless enough to get pregnant. At her age.

The spotting on her panties worried her. Why hadn't she called Natalie? Her excuse was that she was too busy, but that was foolish. Was she in denial, afraid to admit that something was wrong?

She paused at the entrance to the open plan kitchen and dining room, taking in the scene. Jack and Renita were at the stove, teasing each other as Jack put
finishing touches on his dish—lamb with garlic and rosemary, judging by the aroma.

Hetty was chatting to Oliver and Tegan while the two teenagers set the table. Steve and Brett stood at the counter, beer in hand, no doubt discussing the coming football season. Steve was looking fitter as his regular workouts at the gym had started to pay off.

Sienna, wearing a batik skirt she must have bought in Bali and a black, scoop-necked top, greeted Lexie with a hug. Lexie clung to the other woman for a moment. “Sorry I didn't bring anything. I…I just didn't have time. Or, frankly, the energy.”

“Don't you even think about that.” Sienna eased back, frowning, to search Lexie's face. “You look tired. Have you lost weight?”

“Maybe a pound or two,” Lexie said. It wasn't surprising she was run-down. She worked from morning till night, alternately painting Sienna's portrait when the light was the best and the smaller seascapes for Samuel's gallery. “Are fumes from the oil paints and the turpentine bad for…me?”

Jack was approaching as she spoke. “You've never worried about that before,” he commented before Sienna could reply. He held up two bottles of wine for Lexie to choose. “Red or white?”

“Neither,” Lexie said. “I'll just have mineral water.”

“Are you sick?” Renita asked, pausing on her
way from the kitchen to the table with a basket of fresh rolls. “I've never heard you turn down wine before.”

“I'm just tired.” Lexie was more than tired—she was struggling not to collapse on the spot. “And I have to be up early tomorrow to paint.”

“Are you going to get the portrait done in time?” Renita asked.

“I hope so,” Lexie said. “I've only got a couple more weeks before it has to be transported to Sydney.”

“You'll get there,” Renita assured her, and continued on to the table. Jack went with her, carrying the wine.

“Is there any particular reason you asked about the paints and solvents?” Sienna regarded her closely.

“I…I've been spending a lot of time in the studio lately.”

“Keep the room well ventilated. You should limit your exposure as much as possible.” Sienna paused. “Is there anything else?”

“Um. Actually…” Lexie glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “What does it mean when there's spotting during pregnancy? Is it a sign of a miscarriage?”

Sienna's gray-green eyes seemed to see straight into Lexie. But she merely replied, “Not necessarily. Spotting in early pregnancy is the mother's blood, not the baby's. It can be because the placenta isn't firmly
attached to the uterus wall.” She hesitated, and then lowered her voice. “Are you—?”

“Here you are!” Renita presented Lexie with a glass of mineral water. She held out a plate of tiny pancakes topped with smoked salmon. “Dad made these, would you believe it? Try one. They're great.”

“Thanks.” Lexie took an appetizer. She glanced at Sienna. “Talk later?”

“Sure. For now, why don't you sit down.” Sienna put her arm around Lexie's waist and walked her to the table while Renita circulated with the hors d'oeuvres.

Lexie sank gratefully into a chair and sipped her mineral water. Sienna's comments made her feel a little better. The spotting was probably nothing to worry about.

“Hey, Lexie,” Tegan said as she came around laying plates while Oliver followed with cutlery. “Your hair looks pretty.”

“Thanks.” She touched her hastily pinned up hair. At least someone wasn't commenting on how awful she looked. “I like your top,” she said of the black-and-purple ripped shirt. “Very retro.”

“Dad hates it,” Tegan confided.

“Men. What do they know?” Lexie turned to greet Oliver. “Hey, buddy, could you come over and cut my lawn sometime? It's started to grow again. I'll pay you.”

“Is next week okay?” Oliver said, dropping knives and forks haphazardly.

“Perfect.” It was another expense but her time was more profitably spent painting. Hetty sank into the chair next to her. “How's it going?” she asked her mum in a low voice laced with a smile. “Is the Orgasmitron Five Hundred working its magic?”

“Shh, not so loud,” Hetty said. “You don't want the kids to think the oldies are having sex.”

“Well, are you?” Lexie took an olive from the dish on the table and popped it in her mouth. Instantly she spit it out, frowning at it. She loved olives but this one tasted wrong somehow.

Ignoring that, Hetty glanced over at Steve. “We had a big fight after Sienna and Jack's wedding reception. He thinks I overreacted to Susan Dwyer's presence. We're living in a state of armed truce. It's like Europe after World War II. I swear, I don't know what else I can do.”

“Dinner's up,” Jack called, carrying a platter of slow-roasted lamb with roasted vegetables to the table.

When everyone had sat down, Jack raised his wineglass. “To family.”

“Hear, hear,” Lexie murmured, and sipped her mineral water. She'd always taken her close-knit family for granted, but she was going to need her parents and siblings more than ever in the coming months. She noticed Steve had chosen a chair as far
from Hetty as possible and frowned. Damn it, she needed them to be together.

The next few minutes were taken up with passing food down the table, topping up drinks and running back to the kitchen for forgotten items. Then everyone was eating. Talk had reduced to comments about the delicious food.

“So, Mum, Dad,” Jack began conversationally. “When are you two going to take that trip around Australia you've been talking about for years?”

Silence. Not even the clink of forks on plates as everyone looked at Hetty and Steve.
They
looked everywhere but at each other.

Steve cleared his throat. “I've got speeches at the club lined up over the next few months. I'm working my way through the manual.”

“And I have commitments with my yoga group,” Hetty said.

Lexie exchanged glances with Jack and Renita. No one said anything.

Then Hetty put her knife and fork down. “Come now, Steve. We're not fooling anyone. We'd be at each other's throats if we were cooped up together on a long road trip.”

“You're not interested in traveling anyway,” Steve complained. “You're not interested in anything I am.”

“I could say the same about you,” Hetty retorted.

“Never mind,” Sienna interjected. “We don't need
to talk about this while we're eating dinner. It'll spoil our digestion. Right, Jack?” she added pointedly, with a warning glance.

“It's good they're talking,” Jack argued. “How are they going to settle their differences otherwise?”

“Do they need to do it in front of the children?” Sienna asked, nodding to Oliver and Tegan. “It'll lead to an argument.”

“I'm not a child,” Tegan piped up.

“I don't want them to fight in front of
me,
” Renita said. “They need to work it out themselves.”

Then everyone but Lexie was speaking at once, the volume escalating as individuals struggled to be heard. Lexie pressed her fingers to her aching temple.

“Quiet, please!” Picking up a spoon, she tapped on her water glass till the cacophony died down. “I have an idea.”

All heads turned to her. “Mum, join Toastmasters and go to the meetings. Dad, learn to meditate—”

“Meditate? No way,” Steve protested automatically.

“Why not?” Lexie demanded. “You can do yoga, too. You're into fitness now and yoga's excellent for strength and flexibility. Isn't it, Brett?”

Brett, who was still paying off a loan from Renita to buy the gym, nodded. “I'm putting it on the program.”

“There you go.” Lexie swayed, suddenly dizzy in her seat. But she was determined to get an agreement
out of her parents. “So, you two. We've all heard enough complaining about the other person. Will you do something to fix your marriage? Before long there will be grandchildren on the way. Wouldn't it be nice to share that joy together?”

“Grandchildren?” Hetty said, looking from Renita to Sienna. “Did I miss something?”

Eyes wide, Renita glanced at Sienna, who shook her head.

Too late, Lexie realized she'd put her foot in her mouth. She'd planned to tell her family the news when she'd gotten through the first trimester and was more financially stable. “I mean, Sienna and Renita will
probably
be starting new families in the foreseeable future.” Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and temples. She blinked and glanced desperately at Sienna. “Right?”

“Yes,” Sienna said, a worried frown on her face.

“Mum, if you're going to teach yoga, public speaking skills would come in handy. And Dad, meditation is a stress reliever, good for general health. And for both of you, this would be a way of spending time together, understanding each other….”

Spots appeared before her eyes. “Ooh.” The room went blurry. Then black.

When Lexie came to she was lying under a blanket on Jack's brown leather couch in the living room. Sienna was sitting on the coffee table, taking
her pulse. The rest of the family crowded them anxiously.

Lexie struggled to sit up. Her hair was damp from perspiration and her throat was dry but the dizziness had passed. “I'm fine.”

Sienna adjusted the cushions and held a cup to her lips. “Drink this.”

Lexie took a sip and cool water soothed her throat. She met Sienna's gaze. “Thanks.”

“Is she sick?” Hetty asked, taking Lexie's hand. “Should she go to Emergency?”

“She's overworked, that's all,” Sienna replied. “But you should probably see your doctor, Lexie. Soon,” she added meaningfully.

“I'll bring you your plate,” Brett said. “We could all move in here, eat off our laps.”

“I'm not very hungry….” Lexie began.

Sienna brushed her hair back. “You should eat.”

“Don't push food on her if she's not hungry,” Renita said, leaning on the back of the couch. As someone who'd lost weight and continued to struggle to stay fit, she was sensitized to the issue. “All the weight loss experts say that's how people gain, by eating when they don't need to.”