Fifteen
Lachlan entered the kitchen after leaving Rowena an hour later. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. Not when she was processing so much and looking so pale and tired—both physically and emotionally—but she’d sent him on his way.
She’d assured him she was fine, that she was going to bed because she was exhausted and she just wanted to sleep. So he’d left. Reluctantly. After making her some vegemite toast, which she’d eaten and said had helped settle her stomach. It had certainly improved her colour.
Also, he’d given strict instructions to Red to look out for her, and Lachlan knew that should Rowena be in any distress during the night, Red would bark up a storm until he came running.
He must have looked absolutely poleaxed, though, because Reggie stopped what she was doing and exchanged a glance with Albert. Something unspoken passed between them.
‘She’s pregnant, isn’t she?’
He didn’t stop to ask how in the hell his grandmother knew that, he simply said, ‘Yes.’
‘Yours?’ she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
‘Yes.’
Lachlan still couldn’t get his head around it. He was going to be a father. He sure as hell hadn’t had that on his bingo card for this year.
‘Well.’ Reggie smiled. ‘How about that.’
He smiled back, letting it really sink in for a beat. ‘Yeah.’ He was going to be a dad.
Albert got to his feet then, extending his hand as he neared. ‘Congratulations, Lachlan.’
Lachlan grinned as he slid his hand into Albert’s. ‘You’re the first person to congratulate me.’
‘Was there when you caught your first crawchie, and when you took your first ride. Seems only right to be first with this too.’
Whether it was the import of the occasion or a measure of his jumbled emotions, the quiet truth and the aching nostalgia in Albert’s statement hit deeply. Albert was as close to a grandfather as was possible, and Lachlan held the older man’s hand a little longer than a handshake generally required.
Reggie having one of her coughing fits drew their attention. She’d been unimpressed over her slow recovery from her cold but didn’t bellyache about it this time. She just nailed him with one of those looks.
‘So … what happens now?’
Lachlan sat in the nearest chair, grateful for Reggie’s renowned pragmatism to focus him on the practicalities.
But, the truth was, they hadn’t talked about long-term logistics or what would happen past tomorrow.
Rowena was clearly determined not to contemplate any kind of favourable outcome and, given that, he was trying to temper his expectations.
‘I don’t know right now. She’s convinced she’s going to lose it. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Or for me to get my hopes up. She has a long history with this sort of thing.’
‘I gathered.’
‘I’m not really sure what to do next, to be honest. I told her we’d take it one day at a time.’
‘That’s very sensible,’ Reggie said with a nod, which was high praise indeed from his grandmother, who favoured common sense over just about everything else.
‘I did suggest she come and live in the house, though. She’s dealing with a lot of morning sickness and if something should happen to the …
’ A sudden thickening in Lachlan’s throat made it hard to speak for a beat or two, and he had to swallow hard against it to continue.
‘She needs a lot of TLC right now and we’ll be nearer if she needs us. ’
‘I was going to propose that, too. Very sensible.’
If Lachlan had scored two sensibles from his grandmother at any other time, he’d have cracked a joke. But the reassurance of that one word—twice—was exactly what he needed right now.
‘She agreed. I’ll bring up her stuff in the morning.’
‘Excellent.’ Reggie nodded. ‘And I’ll spoil her rotten.’
Lachlan laughed. ‘I have no doubt.’
‘Does she know how far along she is? When she’s due?’
Lachlan shoved a hand through his hair. Well, crap … he hadn’t even thought to ask that. He’d been too worried about Rowena’s pallor and her despair over her absolute certainty the pregnancy would end in miscarriage.
‘I … don’t know.’
But there was no doubt about the date of conception, and if she’d been a ewe he’d just add one hundred and fifty days to that to know the expected lambing date.
‘She can’t think that far ahead,’ he clarified. ‘But she’s been in Acacia Junction for almost two months—’
He broke off as it dawned on him for the first time that she only had another four months on her contract. And then what? No wonder Reggie was asking …
‘So,’ he continued, shaking off all the implications of that particular thought, ‘I guess seven-ish weeks? I’m not sure how they calculate these things in humans.’
Reggie laughed as she sat on the seat next to him. ‘Well, I’m sure once Ro’s gotten over the shock, she’ll let you know. Doing some rough maths, though, should be early March, I reckon.’
March. He smiled. He could be a father in March.
His smile faded as he slammed on the mental brakes, not allowing the thought to progress any further.
Rowena had been adamant the pregnancy would not survive and there’d been something compelling about her certainty.
She’d done this before, many times by the sound of it, so it made sense to heed her warning.
Plus, she was out of here in four months, and he had no idea what that meant for him. Where he fit in the grand picture.
‘I don’t think we should … get too far ahead of ourselves.’
Lachlan said it gently, maybe as much for him as for her, but the last thing he wanted was Reggie knitting up a storm and getting the McCabe christening gown out of storage. He wasn’t superstitious, but he did believe in not tempting fate.
And he was pretty sure Rowena felt the same.
‘I know. I know.’ She patted his hand. ‘But you know what?’ She gave another pat. ‘I have a very good feeling about this baby.’
The statement buoyed him and he smiled at his grandmother. Reggie did have an uncanny sixth sense, and although it usually applied to the weather and lamb prices, it felt good to have her feelings in his corner.
Strangely enough, a tiny little kernel inside him felt it too. Something that was separate to his hope. It sat in that place in his gut that was rarely ever wrong.
But the baby getting to term was just one of their issues. How they were going to manage their situation after the baby was born was another he felt less confident about.
‘Do you love her, Lachy?’
Lachlan blinked at the unexpected question. ‘Reggie.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve known her for two months and we’ve slept together once.’
Also, her contract was up at the end of November. Which made it … complicated as fuck.
Between that and the baggage of two divorces, it was fair to say that Lachlan was a little gun shy. And, yeah, maybe he had been experiencing some feelings for Rowena these past weeks, but he was leery enough at forty not to trust them.
She tutted him. ‘How long did it take you to fall for Brit? Or Gabby?’
The one thing about grandmothers always in your business was they could use what they knew about a person to their advantage. Reggie knew how quickly he’d fallen for Brit, and although he’d been more cautious with Gabby, he’d been in deep within a month—something Reggie also knew full well.
‘And look how those ended.’
‘I knew straight away with Albert.’ She glanced up at the man in question, smiling at him. Albert smiled back. ‘And I was married to your grandfather at the time.’
Reggie hadn’t ever tried to rewrite history when it came to her relationship with Albert because she didn’t care who thought what. His grandfather had been an abusive arsehole and Albert had been her champion and she loved him, and that was all that had ever mattered to Reggie.
‘Sure, but it took you both decades to finally get your act together. I think I’m allowed a little latitude.’
‘Okay.’ She held her hands up in surrender. ‘Just don’t …’
Lachlan quirked an eyebrow. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t think that just because you haven’t been lucky in love before, it means you never will be.’
He forgot sometimes that Reggie not only knew all his business but seemed to also know the heart of him. He gave her a grudging smile. ‘It’s complicated, Reggie.’
She glanced at Albert. ‘All the best ones are.’ Then she squeezed his hand and gave him a cheeky half smile. ‘Third time’s a charm, right?’
Lachlan chuckled despite himself. ‘It is, huh?’
Reggie winked. ‘Trust me. I’m your grandmother.’
*
Lachlan had already spent two hours in the lambing pens by the time he called by to help move Rowena to the homestead at eight the next morning. He’d barely slept a wink last night, hundreds of what ifs and what abouts gambolling around his head like a herd of startled sheep.
But he’d hazard a guess he still looked better than Rowena, who was standing barefoot in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a jumper, water dripping off the ends of her wet hair as she stared at a piece of dry toast like she was trying to decide if it was friend or foe.
She looked so alone in her misery, his chest cramped at the sight. He wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her, but he didn’t want to freak her out by coming on too strong, either.
‘Rough start?’ he asked.
Red, who was at her heels, whined a little as Lachlan approached, looking between his new mistress and his old master, clearly trying to convey his level of concern. Lachlan gave him a soothing pat on the head as he drew level, feeling the dog’s agitation dissipate a little.
Rowena blew out an uneven breath as if trying to ride out a wave of nausea. She nodded. ‘You could say that.’
Suppressing the urge to slide his hand to her nape and massage the muscles, he picked up the plate containing the sad, lonely piece of toast. ‘Shall I ditch this?’
‘Oh god.’ Her hand slid to her stomach. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Did you sleep?’
‘I did, actually. Until I was woken with the violent urge to throw up about six.’