A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle: A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

She remembered how she’d felt a couple of months ago on the day the doctor had given her the bad news. Heartsick and desperate, she’d paced along the beach and she’d soon found that she couldn’t stop. She’d forgotten to take a hat but she didn’t care. She’d walked the entire length of Sugar Bay and then she’d climbed over the headland and onto the next bay and the bay after that.

She’d come home sunburnt and exhausted but she still hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Actually, she hadn’t slept properly since that day, and even when she had slept she’d either had nightmares about losing Nick or dreams in which Nick was cured and well, only to wake to cruel reality. She’d lived with gnawing fear as her constant companion.

Now, Gus was turning back to her once more, his expression grave yet purposeful. Freya wondered if this meant he’d reached a decision and nervous chills chased each other down her arms.

Her stomach bunched into terrified knots but she forced her facial muscles to relax. She didn’t want to let Gus see how frightened she was.

As he approached her, she scrambled stiffly to her feet and, to her surprise, he held out his hand to help her down from the rock.

Freya held her breath.

‘Relax, Freya. I’m more than willing to help Nick, if I can.’

A massive wave of relief washed over her.

She knew that at some point in the very near future she’d be ecstatic and dancing with gratitude, but right now she couldn’t manage words of more than one syllable. ‘Thanks.’

‘Hey, you’re shaking,’ Gus said.

He was still holding her hand and, for a moment, she thought he was going to put his arms around her. Her mind took a ridiculous leap, instantly imagining his embrace and her head cradled against his broad shoulder.

Oh, heavens, how she longed to be there, in the protective shelter of Gus Wilder’s arms, whispering her thanks while she drew strength and comfort from him. She could almost imagine the remembered scent of his skin mingled with the fragrance of the tropical night.

But of course Gus had no intention of hugging her. How silly to have even thought of it. She’d surrendered that privilege a very long time ago.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Your fingers are practically frozen.’ In a purely practical gesture, he rubbed her fingers between his warm palms and she loved it, even though she shouldn’t. ‘You should go inside, Freya. You’re dressed for summer.’

‘I didn’t think it ever got cold in Darwin.’

‘Sure it does. Every year there are at least three days when Darwinians have to put their jackets on.’

He’d almost cracked a joke. Surely that was a good sign.

Gus let her hand go and they walked side by side across the grass to the well-lit concrete path that led back to the hotel.

‘So,’ he said briskly, ‘I guess you’d better tell me what you know about Nick’s condition. I’d like to be fully in the picture.’

He deserved no less, and she’d almost learned to talk about Nick’s illness dispassionately, the way the doctors did, hiding the personal terror that lurked behind every word.

‘It started with a bad case of stomach flu. Vomiting and a high fever. I realised Nick was getting dehydrated, so I took him to the doctor, to our local GP. He took one look at him and rushed him to hospital, to emergency.’

She couldn’t help shuddering, reliving the horror. ‘Nick seemed to make a good recovery from that, but there were follow-up blood tests, and that’s when possible problems showed up.’ A sigh escaped her. ‘So we were sent to Brisbane then, to see a specialist, and they discovered that Nick had a disease called global glomerulosclerosis.’

‘That’s a mouthful.’

‘Yes. I’m afraid I’ve had plenty of practice at saying it. Nick calls it his global warning.’

‘What a champ.’ Gus’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘It takes courage to make a joke about something so personally threatening.’

‘He’s been incredibly brave.’ Freya blinked back tears. ‘I’ve been a mess. So scared. I used to burst into tears without warning. Day and night. But then I saw how strong Nick was and I realised I had to toughen up for his sake.’

Gus remembered young mothers in Africa, broken-hearted, watching their children grow weaker while they covered their fear behind a mask of stoicism. He hated to think of Freya bearing the same kind of pain for her son—their son.

‘Basically,’ Freya continued, ‘this disease means that Nick’s kidneys are filling up with scar tissue. Eventually it leads to complete kidney failure.’

She stopped walking. They were almost back at the hotel and the carefree sounds of laughter and music from a jukebox spilled into the night.

‘He’s been on medication for the past couple of months,’ she said. ‘And it’s working really well. He feels fine but, unfortunately, the medication will only work for a limited time.’ She looked up and met Gus’s stern gaze. ‘That’s why he needs a transplant.’

‘Poor kid.’ Gus’s throat worked furiously. ‘Does he understand?’

Freya nodded and, despite her tension, she smiled. ‘On the surface, he doesn’t seem too worried. He feels fine and he doesn’t need dialysis. That’s a huge plus. The drugs have allowed him to carry on as usual. He can still swim and play sport, take his dog for a run.’

‘He has a dog?’

‘Yes. An ugly little mix of terrier and heaven knows what from the Animal Shelter. Nick adores him. Calls him Urchin. They share every spare minute Nick isn’t at school. They’re the best of mates.’

Gus’s eyes took on a misty faraway look and Freya was almost certain that he was picturing the boy and the dog, running on the beach at Sugar Bay. The fond warmth in his eyes made her throat ache.

Next moment, Gus blinked and the soft light was gone. His expression was sober again. ‘So he understands about needing a transplant?’

‘Yes.’ She gave an imitation of Nick’s typical shrug. ‘But he doesn’t dwell on it.’

‘The benefits of being young, I guess.’ Gus dropped his gaze and sighed.

‘We don’t talk about the alternative,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve promised him I’ll find a donor.’

‘Have you tried elsewhere?’

Freya looked away. ‘We’re on a waiting list, but the doctor said that you were our best chance, Gus.’

He nodded grimly. ‘And the time frame?’

‘The sooner he has the transplant, the better.’

‘Let’s hope I can help then.’

‘It would be—’ Freya’s mouth trembled. She wanted to shower Gus with gratitude. This was such a huge thing he was offering—to submit to an operation, to hand over a vital organ.

But her instincts told her that he wouldn’t welcome such effusiveness from her. He was still shocked and angry. Just the same, she had to say something. ‘I…I’m so sorry to land this on you. I know it’s a terrible shock and a huge imposition, and I—’

He held up a hand, silencing her. ‘It’s not an imposition.’ Harsh anger simmered beneath the quiet surface of his voice. ‘I’m the boy’s father.’

Chastened, Freya nodded. Gus’s reaction was just as she’d expected. He was prepared to help his son, and that was the best she could hope for. It would be too much to expect him to forgive her secrecy.

‘You never know,’ Gus said less harshly. ‘This might be Nick’s lucky day.’

To her surprise, he smiled. Admittedly, it was a crooked, rather sad smile, but it encouraged an answering smile from her. ‘I certainly hope so.’