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Authors: Emma Darcy

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BOOK: Merry Christmas (Mills & Boon Vintage 90s Modern)
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He hugged her and rubbed his cheek over her hair, loving the child she still was and deeply moved by her uninhibited affection. She belonged with him. She was the only family he had left. Yet he knew every time he looked at her now he would be reminded of Meredith Palmer and her enduring love for the child she had given up. He felt caught in a hopeless quandary.
“I think your real mother will think you’re wonderful,” he murmured. “The best Christmas present she’s ever had.”
A deep sigh. “I want her to like me.”
“I’m sure she will.” He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Best off to bed now, Kimberly. Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Uncle Nick. And thanks for everything.” She pecked his cheek and was off, pausing at the hall to the bedrooms to say, “I’ve dreamed about her, too. My real mother, I mean. Ever since I knew I was adopted I’ve been dreaming about her.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. It was simply confiding the truth to him. Nick was left thinking of his own dreams, wondering how his subconscious had conjured up the image of Meredith Palmer. Perhaps he’d seen a photograph of her. If his sister had known her she might have had a photograph.
But why didn’t he remember it? And why of all the women in the photographs his sister had taken over decades, had
she
become a dream-woman to him...a figure that called to him yet remained tantalisingly out of reach.
He’d figured it was symbolic of his disappointment in being unable to strike a soul mate amongst the women he’d met and dated. Symbolic also of a need to believe there was someone still out there for him, and if only he persisted long enough he would find her.
But for the fantasy figure to match up to someone in real life... Nick clenched his teeth. He was not going to consider supernatural stuff. The coincidence had to have a rational explanation. And the effect Meredith Palmer was having on him...that was mixed up with her matching a dream. Naturally, something so unexpected triggered confusion. The power of her impact would be much less when they met again on Saturday.
Determinedly pushing aside her lingering influence on him, Nick pushed up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to call Rachel. It was almost eleven o’clock but he knew Rachel rarely went to bed before midnight. Besides, she’d asked for him to call and talking to her might restore his sanity.
When her voice came over the line, he was vexed to find himself comparing the bright, brisk, matter-of-fact tone to Meredith Palmer’s softer tilt. “It’s Nick,” he said quickly.
“Dear Nick, I’m so glad you got back to me.” An injection of warmth that should have lightened his mood, but didn’t. “I have an invite to Christmas cocktails on Harvey Sinclair’s yacht. Saturday evening. Six o’clock start. Want to partner me?”
Harvey Sinclair was a big fish in the financial world. Rachel was bound to be eager to go. Good contacts would abound at such a party. Normally Nick would have given an automatic yes, but he found himself hesitating, looking for a way out of it.
“I’d rather not,” he said honestly. “Can you find someone else to go with?”
A pause, her shrewd mind sifting signals. “Some problem, Nick?”
He sighed over his own unease. “I’ve set up a meeting between Kimberly and her real mother on Saturday. I don’t know how it will turn out, Rachel.”
“And you want to stick around. Understandable, Nick. Tricky business.”
“Very.” He appreciated her quick grasp of the situation. He rarely had to explain much to Rachel. It made conversation flow so easily.
“Not to worry,” she assured him without a trace of feeling put out. “I don’t mind going by myself. I intended to circulate anyway. I’ll tell you all about it when next we get together.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“I hope the meeting...well, I hope it helps Kimberly.”
“Thanks for your caring, Rachel. I’m sorry about her attitude toward you. I wish...”
“Hey! She’s had a lot on her mind. Maybe she’ll give me a break when some of it’s been lifted.”
He smiled at her ready good humour. “Well, have a good time Saturday night. I’ll see you soon.”
It was a comfortable note on which to end the call, causing Nick to reflect that his relationship with Rachel was comfortable. It was effortlessly companionable, easy, undemanding.
What it lacked was passion.
The thought struck Nick forcefully and stayed with him long after he’d gone to bed. Rachel was always reasonable. So was he. Two eminently reasonable human beings, feeling no great highs but no great lows, either. Safe.
Passion was a roller-coaster, an explosive force, a whirlwind, and he suddenly knew that was what Meredith Palmer represented, what he’d felt caught up in while he was with her...passion in all its range and dimensions.
It was pervasively disturbing.
And intensely alluring.
CHAPTER SIX
M
EREDITH strolled slowly along the wide promenade that edged Circular Quay, filling in time since she was far too early for the lunch appointment with Kimberly and Nick Hamilton. If she’d stayed any longer in her apartment she would have undoubtedly changed clothes again, succumbing to the frenzy of anxiety that had forced her into four different outfits, dithering over what would be most appropriate and appealing for this critical meeting with her daughter.
She had tried to think what a twelve-year-old girl might want her mother to look like; smart and classy, soft and feminine, casual and approachable, bright and boldly chic...there were so many looks one might present. She’d swung through the lot; dress, suit, jazzy separates, tailored slacks, jeans. What she had finally chosen was probably too formal but at least she always felt good in it.
The colour suited her—a lemon-yellow floral print on white pique cotton. The short-sleeved, figure-hugging jacket had a wide, white collar with dramatic lapels, setting off her long neck and providing a sharp contrast to the dark blond fall of her hair. The narrow skirt was a trendy length, ending just above her knees. Low-heeled lemon-yellow shoes and a matching handbag added the fashion touch that lifted the outfit into top class. It had invariably drawn compliments.
The plain truth was, Meredith admitted to herself, vanity had won out in the end. She wanted Kimberly to feel proud of her mother. And however foolish it might be, she wanted Nick Hamilton to take a second look at her...a long second look.
Although she knew next to nothing about him now—how his character had developed over the years or what turns his life had taken—the long-cherished memories of their young love had resurfaced, tantalising her with possibilities that kept burrowing into her heart. Some dreams didn’t die easily. Not even in the bright light of day.
It couldn’t be brighter than it was at the moment, she thought with wry humour. The sparkling waters of the harbour reflected the clear blue of a cloudless summer sky. Sunshine glittered off the tiled roofs of the opera house, accentuating the effect of sails billowed to full stretch. Boats and ferries left a wake of frothy waves, trails of brilliant white bubbles. It was the kind of day that made people feel it was great to be alive.
Happy tourists were out en masse, a river of colour streaming around her. Christmas was everywhere; gaudy and glorious decorations, street-sellers pressing their wares as gifts, Santa Claus greeting children. Buskers provided entertainment, well-loved carols being the obvious favourite. Gaiety and goodwill were in the air and Meredith no longer cared that Kimberly had only asked to see her for Christmas. It was a start...and who knew where it would finish?
She skirted groups posing for photographs against the background of the huge coathanger bridge that spanned the harbour. So many smiling faces. They made her smile, too, lifting her spirits. Anything was possible.
Although Nick Hamilton didn’t remember it, today was the anniversary of when they’d first met, thirteen years ago. If he could only see her with the same eyes as then, the magical connection could happen again, couldn’t it?
It was still ten minutes short of noon when she arrived at the large apron deck on the harbour side of the opera house, but she wasn’t the first to arrive. Despite the milling crowd enjoying the view from this marvellous vantage point, she spotted Nick Hamilton immediately. He was standing in profile, leaning on the railing near where the water taxis drew in to set down or pick up theatregoers.
Meredith instantly halted, needing to catch her breath and give her heart time to recover its normal beat, or at least an approximation of it. Her gaze targeted the girl beside him. She faced. the water, her back turned to Meredith, but it had to be Kimberly...her daughter...her baby grown to girlhood.
She was tall for her age, with the supple slenderness of a fast-growing child. Her long legs were encased in lime green jeans which she’d teamed with a white T-shirt patterned with orange and lemon and lime squiggles. A bubbly lemon band circled her black ponytail and she wore lemon sneakers on her feet. White socks. ,
She obviously liked bright colours. Meredith felt a wave of glad relief that her own colour choice in this instance fitted her daughter’s taste.
A movement caught her eye, Nick Hamilton’s head turning toward her. She looked back at him, her pulse racing again. He stiffened as his gaze connected with hers. The impact moment of recognition seemed to screech along every nerve in Meredith’s body. Did he know her this time? Had she struck some chord in his memory? He stared at her as though she were a mirage he couldn’t quite believe in.
Then he visibly shook himself out of the hypnotic fixation and touched Kimberly on the shoulder. His mouth formed words Meredith couldn’t hear. The effect on the girl was instant. She swung around, her vibrant face lit with eager anticipation, her eyes swiftly scanning faces, her body tense with excitement.
The tug on Meredith’s heart was so strong, her feet started forward, walking fast, faster, the need to close the distance between them urgent. She wanted to sing out, “I’m here!” She wanted to sweep her child up and hug her in an ecstasy of loving, in a wild celebration of both of them being alive, being able to touch and feel and know that their coming together was real.
Nick Hamilton’s hand lifted, pointing direction. Perhaps he said more. Kimberly’s gaze zeroed in on Meredith and stuck, her eyes rounding in stunned surprise, her mouth falling open. She didn’t move. It was Nick Hamilton who moved, stepping out as though in warning to Meredith to hold back a little, approach more slowly.
The impulses surging through her wavered as caution caught at them. Sober reason clicked into her mind driving back the wild rush of emotion, insisting that too much too soon was not a wise course in these circumstances. She was a stranger to her child, a stranger who had to win her trust and love.
Tears blurred her eyes as she struggled to contain the tumult of feeling. A smile, she thought. At least she could show her love in a smile. Her legs obeyed her command to come to a halt beside the man who had initiated this meeting and she gave her daughter the brightest smile she could dredge up, knowing it wobbled but trying her utmost to hold it and inject it with all the warmth of a welcome that had been waiting so terribly long.
“Kimberly...this is your mother...Meredith Palmer,” came the gentle introduction from Nick Hamilton.
Kimberly closed her mouth and swallowed hard. Her eyes clung to Meredith’s face.
“I’m so very happy to meet you, Kimberly,” Meredith managed huskily.
“You’re beautiful,” came the awed whisper.
“You are, too,” was the only answer that came to mind. It was true. The combination of her green eyes with Nick’s black hair was stunning. She’d inherited their best features in a pleasing amalgamation that was uniquely her own.
“You could say hello, Kimberly,” Nick prompted in a kindly, indulgent tone.
She flushed, quickly offering her hand for Meredith to clasp. “Hello,” she echoed. “I’m really glad you came. I’m sorry I got so dumb. Uncle Nick said you were pretty, but you could be a model. Honest!”
The awkward, eager words tumbled out artlessly. Meredith’s smile threatened to wobble again as she curled her hand around the smaller one of her daughter’s, such soft young skin, warm flesh and blood, solid and real. Her mind swirled around the heady sensation of touch. It was hard to drive it into making conversation.
“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you, wondering where you were and how you were doing,” she said softly. “It always helped that I knew you had good parents, Kimberly, and I’m sorry you lost them.” She couldn’t resist squeezing the small hand as she added, “I wish I could have been there for you then.”
“It’s okay,” came the shy reply. “I had Uncle Nick. He’s pretty good really.”
“That could be the best compliment I’ve had for some time,” Nick drawled in a teasing lilt. “Maybe I should get it in writing. Will you witness it, Miss Palmer?”
It lightened the emotion-charged atmosphere and served as a warning for Meredith to ease off.
“Oh, come on, Uncle Nick!” Kimberly rolled her eyes at him. “I only say you’re a stodge when you’re being a stick-in-the-mud.” She withdrew her hand to gesture a reproof. “We’re supposed to be saying good things today.”
“I stand corrected,” he said with mock ruefulness. “From here on in I’ll tell Miss Palmer you’re a perfect angel.”
Kimberly sighed in exasperation.
Meredith laughed, happy to see the easy rapport between the two, the love that was taken for granted. It was obvious her daughter was fine and Nick was taking good care of her.
Kimberly gave her a look that appealed for understanding. “I’m not a perfect angel...”
“None of us are,” Meredith assured her with a grin. “On the other hand, it’s such a perfect day, let’s enjoy it all we can.”
“Starting with food,” Nick popped in. “I don’t know about you, Miss Palmer, but the nervous energy that’s been swirling around me this morning seems to have drained my stomach. I’m starving.”
He was handling this so well. No constraint. Smoothing the path. Her eyes thanked him, loving him for caring to make it as right as he could. “Lunch would be good,” she agreed, half turning and holding out her left hand for Kimberly to take if she wanted to, smiling encouragement.
She took it. “Uncle Nick said this restaurant served super food. I hope you’ll like it.” Eager to impress.
“How could I not? It has such a lovely position.”
And I’ve got the best company in the world.
Her heart was so full it was difficult not to pour out her feelings. Only the thought of overwhelming the child stopped her. She forced herself to hold her hand lightly as they walked along together, chatting about food preferences.
Long tubs of shrubs formed a demarcation line between the outside dining area of the restaurant and the public domain. A waiter took Nick’s name and ushered them to a table by the water. A wide umbrella overhead provided welcome shade, lowering the glare and protecting them from the harmful rays of the sun.
They had an unrestricted view of Fort Denison, the small island in the harbour where the worst criminals were marooned in the early convict days.
Pinchgut,
it had been commonly called, because the men had been left for lengthy periods with only very small rations. Like her with Kimberly, Meredith thought, remembering the long emptiness in between the once-a-year photographs and the subsequent craving for more.
She watched her daughter covertly as they settled into their chairs, secretly feasting on the wealth of detail that photographs could never impart; the way she moved, the wonderful mobility of her face as her expressions changed, the bright intelligence in her eyes, the fascinating dimple in one cheek, the holding-her-own tilt of her chin as she bantered with the man she believed was her uncle.
A jug of ice water was quickly brought, menus handed around. The business of selecting their orders helped to set a more relaxed mood, though Meredith noticed Kimberly took every discreet opportunity to eye her in more lingering detail. Meredith fiercely hoped she liked all she saw.
The menu was a blur of choices. It didn’t matter what she ate. It was highly doubtful she’d even taste it. When the waiter returned, Kimberly ordered battered fish fillets and chips and Meredith said she’d have the same. Nick decided on a chicken dish and added a green salad for three as an accompaniment to their meal. He asked if she’d like to share a bottle of wine but Meredith declined, not wanting her perceptions even slightly fuzzied. They all requested soft drinks.
“Uncle Nick said you live at Balmoral. Do you like the beach?” Kimberly asked.
“Very much. I was brought up in Coff’’s Harbour on the far north coast.” She flicked a glance at the man who had met and known her there. His expression held speculative interest, no personal reaction to the name of the seaside town. “The beach used to be my playground,” she added to Kimberly. “Since I came to Sydney I’ve always lived somewhere near one.”
“Because it reminds you of home?”
No, not home, Meredith thought, shaking her head. Her stepmother had never really provided a
home
. “More because it offers so many free pleaseures,” she answered. “Walking along the shore, breathing in the fresh sea air, surfing. What about you? Do you enjoy swimming?”
“Mmmh.” Pride in her achievement danced in her eyes. “I’m fairly good at it actually.”
“School champion for her age this year,” Nick said dryly. “She’s a regular mermaid.”
Kimberly laughed, bubbling over with pleasure. “Uncle Nick’s going to teach me windsurfing over the summer holidays.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Meredith enthused, her heart turning over as her mind suddenly filled with the memory of learning the same skills from him thirteen summers ago; catching the wind, skimming over the water, riding the waves, the exhilaration of it made even more intoxicating because he was watching, sharing, enjoying it with her.
The ache for what she had had and lost welled up in her. She was glad Kimberly had such a good relationship with her father, but seeing it, experiencing it, made the hurt of being shut out of their lives all these years so much worse. What she had missed...and could never have...because the time that could have been spent together was gone and the memories belonged to them, not to her.
BOOK: Merry Christmas (Mills & Boon Vintage 90s Modern)
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