Twenty-Five
An hour later, Lachlan approached the bunkhouse deck, Red at his heels, the frustrations of the day weighing heavily on his shoulders.
To say he was disappointed to have missed the ultrasound appointment was the understatement of the century, and he was still mad as hell at himself for going to the meeting.
And then there was his guilt over his feelings when two people had died on that road today. Two people who wouldn’t be sitting around dining room tables with their families tonight.
His time in accident investigation afforded him an intimate understanding of what those scenes were like. How horrific they could be. How they left an indelible mark on first responders and emergency services personnel.
Which made him feel worse.
Because, according to Reggie—who was beaming from ear to ear—the ultrasound had gone well, and surely that was all that mattered.
She’d passed him the image—even though he’d looked at the digital ones about a hundred times while he’d waited for the road to open—and excitedly gave him the Cliff’s Notes version.
And he was really grateful to Rowena for giving his grandmother, who was always a bastion of calm, such a special experience. It had clearly been thrilling.
But, damn it—he’d wanted to be there.
Each morning he woke with Rowena snuggled into his side, his heart floating like a balloon, his chest awash with conflicting emotions. Gratitude that their relationship had blossomed, but also dread. Aware she was one day closer to leaving.
One day closer to going back to the city.
That in itself was hard enough to contemplate, but the fact he would miss out on all the pregnancy milestones drove talons into the underside of his brain.
He’d miss out on Rowena’s body burgeoning as it grew to accommodate their baby, miss out on all the baby’s uterine acrobatics, maybe even miss out on the birth.
Which he tried not to contemplate, but he knew was a distinct possibility given the unpredictable nature of birth.
But all that noise evaporated from his brain the second he put his foot on the deck, pulling up short at the sight that greeted him. Rowena lying wet and naked in the bathtub, her nipples peeking through a slurry of sudsy bubbles floating on the surface of the water.
Her hair had been fixed in a pile on top of her head, exposing the line of her nape, her head was propped against the rolled edge, and her knees were bent, rising out of the water all pale and sudsy.
She was staring out over the landscape as if transfixed, and Lachlan dragged his eyes off her to the view before them.
The infinite, cloudless dome overhead descended down to the horizon at a spot too far away to pinpoint.
The setting sun splashed the landscape, gilding all it touched.
Leaves and trunks and scrub outlined in amber, the haze of dust kicked up by his tyres several minutes ago draping over everything in a gauzy golden hue.
But Rowena was, by far, the most captivating part of the vista. Lying in the bath he’d installed on the deck he’d built with his own two hands. Like she was as much a part of the scenery as the wattles and the gums.
Like she’d always been here. Like she belonged here.
He glanced down at Red, who seemed just as absorbed by the woman in the bath. Red looked up at him, turning his head to the side, asking the question. Lachlan nodded and, permission granted, the dog trotted across the deck.
Rowena didn’t hear him approach, startling as Red nuzzled her hand, water sloshing. But she cooed a greeting, scratching behind the dog’s ear as she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. Lachlan sucked in a breath as the smile landed like a fist to his chest.
‘Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ he murmured as he willed legs, suddenly far too wobbly, to walk.
She looked him up and down as he closed the distance. ‘Right back at ya.’
Another fist landed at her teasing. He liked that she felt comfortable enough in his company, in their relationship, in this place, to tease. He halted beside the bath, determined to keep his eyes on her face and not let them wander.
‘You made it home,’ she said, her head lolling back against the rolled edge to meet his gaze.
A third fist found its mark. Home. If only it was more than a word to describe where someone lived to her. If only she really saw Blairgowrie as her home, too. ‘Yep.’
‘Long day.’
‘Very,’ he confirmed, pushing away the image of roadside debris and scorched earth as he’d eventually passed through the accident site. ‘Room for two?’
‘Absolutely.’
Lachlan grinned, succumbing to the urge to let his gaze wander, starting at her knees and lingering on her nipples. His body stirred as he kicked off his boots. Red yipped and wagged his tail, sensing a swim was on offer.
‘Home,’ Lachlan said without even looking at the dog as his shirt hit the ground.
Obeying without question, Red trotted away, leaving them alone—Rowena wet and naked, him fumbling with the fly on his good Calvins, like he’d never seen boobs before.
She wasn’t helping, of course, watching him undress like he was putting on some kind of show for her. The hungry lick of her gaze took him from semi to hard in a flash, the smug tilt of her mouth somehow also a huge turn-on.
The water sloshed as she sat up and scooched forward a little, and he eased into the lukewarm water behind her, his legs bracketing hers. She settled against him, her back fitting snug to his front, and Lachlan sighed a deep sigh as a well of contentment melted away the stress of the day.
‘That’s better,’ he murmured, his lips buzzing her temple.
‘It is.’
Those two words cranked up his contentment another notch and, despite wanting to know every minute detail of the scan, Lachlan was happy for now to just hold her close and bask in this shared moment in this place he loved so much, watching the sun slowly disappear.
‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she said after long, silent minutes had passed.
So, stay, he wanted to say. Stay. But he said, ‘Tell me about the scan,’ instead.
Then he listened as she told him all the ins and outs of the ultrasound. Everything from how the baby was sucking her thumb to the tight squeeze of Reggie’s hand. He asked questions, which Rowena answered, and he revelled in how her language around the pregnancy had shifted.
He knew that she’d never be able to completely extinguish her anxiety over something going wrong, but the positivity of her tone was encouraging.
Lachlan’s hands moved to her belly through water that had now completely cooled. There wasn’t any discernible bump yet but he swore he could feel a slight roundness pressing into his palms when he flattened them. ‘Any kicks today?’
She slid her hands over his. ‘Plenty.’
They lapsed into silence again, their hands in place, waiting for a movement that never failed to make him smile. None were forthcoming, but there was something about this pose that made him feel very possessive.
His woman. His baby.
Neanderthal, sure. But there nonetheless.
‘Reggie tackled me today,’ she said into the hush. ‘About my intentions.’
Swearing under his breath, he muttered, ‘Sorry.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, the soft spring of her hair caressing his neck. ‘It’s fine. She’s right. Time’s a-ticking. We should make plans.’
Lachlan let out a deep, relieved breath. He’d been going to broach the subject with her in a few days, after they’d completed the muster and drenching. But now was better.
‘We should.’
She didn’t say anything for a beat. ‘Have you given any thought to the situation?’
Lachlan almost laughed out loud. Any thought? He’d been around and around the houses with it from the moment he’d discovered Rowena was pregnant.
‘Of course.’ Lachlan could suddenly hear his pulse in his ears. This was an important conversation—he didn’t want to screw it up. ‘But I know you’re wanting to go back to the city and that will dictate a lot of what happens next. So I’d like to hear your thinking on how we navigate this.’
She nodded and he sensed she was ordering her thoughts. ‘My last shift in Acacia Junction is November twenty-eight. And I’m due back at work in Sydney on December second.’
Lachlan shut his eyes. Tomorrow was the first of November. She’d be twenty-four weeks pregnant by the end of the month and probably be really starting to show.
‘I’ve been trying to plan past that but, honestly … I don’t know. I thought I’d see how I go for that first month back in Sydney. How I feel.’
How she felt about what? The job? The city? Him …? ‘Okay,’ he said tentatively.
‘How does that sound to you?’
It sounded like a taking-it-each-day-as-it-came plan and he needed more certainty than that. As a farmer he worked to an annual calendar. Things were done at the same time every year—lambing, crutching, shearing—so he always knew what he was doing well ahead of time.
Being a father wasn’t the same thing, he knew. He didn’t have to be a parent to know there was a degree of unpredictability. But it would be good to have the next twenty weeks more clearly outlined, not just the first month.
‘I think I need …’ Lachlan felt like he was picking his way through a minefield of Lego bricks in the middle of a blackout. ‘A little more detail than that.’
‘Okay …’ Clearly, she was being tentative too. ‘Like what?’
‘Like some kind of outline for the remainder of the pregnancy. Starting with Christmas and including things like antenatal appointments and maternity leave timing and where the baby’s going to be born and do you want me there?
Or do you just want someone like your mother?
You haven’t talked about her much so I’m assuming you’re not close, but childbirth is different, right?
A lot of women want their mothers with them. ’
That’s what he’d been reading anyway.