Trouble in Nirvana (25 page)

“Congratulations.” A tear escaped. “She’s beautiful, your daughter.” She sniffed hard as he released his grip.

Danny gazed into her face, eyes intense, brow furrowed. “She is, isn’t she? Thanks, Rosie. Thank you for taking care of her. Nirupam told me how you and Tom...I should have been here.” He looked away over her shoulder, shook his head. “I let her down. I should have stayed with her. I wanted so much to be at the birth.”

Primrose gripped his arm. “She knows. She wanted you there, too. She kept saying “I want Danny.” But she’d already forgiven you before we left here. She’s amazing.”

Danny grinned. “I know. And so is our daughter. Did you see? She looks like me.”

“She does. Same nose.” Primrose picked up the basket. “What’s her name?”

“Dawn Primrose.”

“Really? Primrose? Poor little sweetheart.” She laughed but a swell of pride made her wipe more tears from her eyes. “Dawn’s appropriate.” Somehow she hadn’t expected such a normal sounding name but Nirupam had surprised her a lot lately.

“It’s what Nirupam wants.” Danny slung his arm around her shoulders as they walked up the steps to the verandah and she leaned into his side and slipped her arm around his waist. “I’m happy with it. She wanted to name her after you. Couldn’t call her Tom.”

Primrose opened the screen door. “Do you mind?”

“I like it.”

“So do I. It’s a lovely name. Are you going back in tonight? I thought I would.”

“No, I told her I’d be in first thing tomorrow. They can probably come home. The local paper wants to photograph you and Tom.”

“When?” Primrose headed for the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Tonight, maybe?”

“Fine. Left over curry all right for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Danny opened the fridge. Primrose unloaded the vegetables from her basket.

“I’m leaving in a week or two. I’ll stay until Nirupam settles in, then go.”

He turned with a chilled beer in his hand, surprised. “Why?”

“I can’t stay here, not after what I’ve said and done.”

“Yes, you can. I’m not angry about having to tell Nirupam about Liam. I should have as soon as I found out myself but. . .” He grimaced.

“You didn’t,” supplied Primrose. Hoped the boy would go away, probably.

Danny closed the fridge. “Nirupam will be very upset if you leave.”

“Will you?”

“You’re my sister. I know we haven’t been close and it was partly my fault. But you’re here now.” He gestured helplessly. “What happened when we were kids, I don’t think either of us knew how to deal with it. We can’t blame ourselves, or each other.”

Primrose bit at her lower lip. “No. But I always felt so guilty. I couldn’t help when he, you know when Dad...”

Danny’s head whipped toward her wide-eyed in surprise. “You were only little, what could you do? Mum should have done something.”

“I was terrified for you.”

His expression changed and she suddenly thought he might cry. He said, “I always thought you thought I was weak and pathetic for not standing up to him. I thought you despised me for it.”

She shook her head in violent denial, tears starting in her own eyes. “No, never. I resented that you left me and Mum but that was later, different. It was all such a mess.”

“If he’d harmed you I wouldn’t have left you there with them, Rosie. Believe me. But he always focussed on me.”

She wiped her eyes and sighed. It was so long ago, now, the past. “I wonder why?”

“Thought I was weak and spineless? Maybe I was. Maybe I still am.”

“You’re not a fighter.” Her lip curled. “He was a vicious, cowardly bully. I hated him.”

“I wish you’d stay. We’ll work it out.”

“But you need to work out your own family. You and Nirupam and the baby. Don’t you see? I just cause trouble for you.”

He frowned and twisted the cap off the beer. The frown deepened to perplexity. “But you’re part of my family, too. Nirupam feels the same. There’s heaps of room. You don’t
have
to leave, do you? For a different reason?”

“I’ll need to earn some money fairly soon but that might not count as a reason for you.” She laughed.

He acknowledged the jibe with a smile. “There must be something you can do.”

“Not much for flute players round here. I can’t do anything else.”

“Have you looked? Stick some ads up for students.” He took a long pull at the beer. “Or you could work in the pub. There’s sure to be something. If you don’t want to play flute, what’s the problem?”

What was the problem? Danny was right. She could do anything to earn money if she really wanted to. Maybe flute
was
what she really wanted after all.

“By the way Tom said he’ll be ready whenever you call in.”

“Ready for what?” Tom. Again. A rush of heat started in her feet and headed north.

“Aren’t you going to visit Nirupam?”

“Oh! Yes. I wasn’t sure he was coming. When did you see him?” She turned so he wouldn’t see the red creeping up her neck.

“Called in on the way home to thank him for what he did.”

She forced a smile. “He was extraordinary. I’m so glad he was there.”

“Tom’s a good bloke. Why don’t you marry him? You could do worse.”

Primrose spun around. The idea exploded in her head. A cascade of sparkling wonderment. “Marry him?”

Danny nodded, swallowing his beer. “Nirupam thinks he needs a wife.”

“Needs and wants are quite different.” Just how much did Danny know? What did they talk about, those two men? Danny had certainly confided some personal secrets. Had Tom? And what about the elephant in the room? Didn’t Danny think infertility was an issue? Apparently not.

He shrugged in his irritatingly vague manner and drank more beer.

“He doesn’t want to marry me. He doesn’t want a city girl. He needs someone who can help him milk his cow. I terrorised it.” And vice versa. A hulking brown body, big clumsy hooves with a stinging swipe of a tail. Daisy, letting her know exactly what she thought of the incompetent milker.

“You can learn. We think you’d be a perfect couple.”

“Who thinks that?” Hands on hips Primrose faced him square on. The flare of hope was almost impossible to hide. “You and Tom?”

“Me and Nirupam.”

“You don’t know anything about me and Tom.”

“Maybe not.” Danny smiled slyly. “But
you
interfere in lots of things you don’t know anything about. Must run in the family.”

How dense could he be? She dragged the elephant centre stage. “Danny, I want babies. Tom can’t have children.”

“You can adopt. Or there are those other ways people manage. Sperm donors or something.” He sauntered for the door. “I’ve been thinking. Alpacas might be a good idea. I’m going to have a shower. Give me a yell when you want to eat.”

****

Primrose drove into Tom’s yard shortly after seven. She sat for a moment gathering courage, calming her racing heart. The screen door banged and Tom came down the steps. He must have been watching for her. His hair was damp, slicked back from his forehead, his shirt crisp and white across those broad shoulders, neatly tucked into worn blue jeans. Utterly desirable. Utterly impossible.

“G’day,” he said as he opened the passenger door.

“Hello.” Barely waiting for him to close the door let alone buckle up, Primrose swung the Golf in a tight arc and accelerated down the driveway. Tom swayed against the window.

“Whoa.” He grabbed for the seatbelt. “In a hurry?”

“Sorry.”

She slowed for the turn on to the road. Tom’s hard, jeans clad thigh was right near her fingers every time she changed gears. Should have let him drive. But it was better to have something to occupy her hands, not to mention her brain, or she’d be running her fingers up and down that tautly muscled leg. Remembering. How could she ever erase that memory? Their bodies had fitted together perfectly. His fingers knew exactly what drove her...

“Danny’s happy.”

She exhaled a burst of tightly held air. “Yes.”

She smiled across at him. He lifted a curious eyebrow at the rush of breath but didn’t comment. He said, “I knew they’d get themselves sorted pretty quickly. What have they named her?”

“Dawn Primrose. Didn’t Danny tell you?” Primrose shot him a sideways glance. “Didn't you ask?”

“Forgot. Danny was too busy thanking me to think of it.”

“I think it’s a lovely name. Even the Primrose bit.”

“Dawn Primrose.” He nodded. “It’s all right.”

“They couldn’t call her Tom even though you deserve it more than I do.”

“It’s okay. If they’d done it the other way round she could be Rosie Dawn.” He laughed. “Pretty Rosie Dawn.”

Primrose grinned. “I’m surprised Nirupam came up with such a traditional name.”

“Me, too.”

There Tom sat, relaxed and friendly, chatting comfortably, long legs sprawled, sexy as could be. Not the slightest inkling of the emotional mess churning in the driver’s seat beside him. He obviously assumed whatever awkwardness had arisen, caused by her kiss, had been defused by his departure without comment. The girl he knew would be leaving very soon. Probably thinking W
hat a relief
. Not of marriage.

The road wound up into the quiet coolness of the mountains.

“Bit different coming up here now,” said Tom.

Primrose changed down a gear. Her fingers grazed his thigh. “I’ll never drive this road again without remembering and I’ll never forget the exact spot.”

“It’s surprising how quickly some memories fade.” He stretched his leg out straight, away from her touch.

“Some never do, never will,” Primrose said softly.

She knew Tom was looking at her, she could feel his eyes on her face in profile to him. “No, I suppose it’s one that won’t ever fade away,” he said after a short silence.

“That’s not the one I meant.” Primrose kept her eyes firmly on the road. Had to or they’d be over the edge.

“You’re right, it’s hard to forget...some people. The ones who treat you badly.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” she whispered.

He cleared his throat. “Not you. I didn’t mean you.” He gave a strained sounding laugh. “Hard to forget you. You’re right here. I meant your fiancé.”

“Right, although...”

“What?”

“I haven’t thought of him at all since I arrived. Beyond a passing mention here and there. I thought I’d die of heartbreak at the time but...I guess time really does heal all wounds.” She smiled briefly. “I think the real problem was everything happened at once—Martin dumping me, those tough gigs which made me question my ability, having to find somewhere to live all of a sudden. I needed a break. From everything. A holiday. I can see more clearly now. Martin wasn’t right for me and vice versa. The country is really good for clearing the head.”

His expression hadn’t changed from polite interest. “And so now you’re ready to go back.”

“Not really. But I have to earn some money.”

“Money is the root of all evil,” Tom stated like a bible thumping preacher.

Primrose smiled. “Danny and Nirupam want me to stay but I can hardly stay having made them kick everyone else out.”

“But you’re their family.” Again the cry of indignation. Family meant a lot to Tom. His family. He wouldn’t understand the loose, messy excuse for a family she and Danny had. Although wasn’t a family what Danny was striving for on his commune? Hadn’t she come here searching for the same thing? A family? A connection? Somewhere to belong? People to belong to?

“That’s what Danny said.” She paused. “He’s very forgiving. They both are.”

“So you’ve sorted out the thing about his son?”

“More or less. He’s glad Nirupam knows. I don’t know what they’ll do financially. They have little Dawn to consider now.”

“You did some good while you were here,” Tom said after a while. He laughed. “In amongst the rest.”

“In amongst the chaos and devastation, you mean.” Primrose smiled. “Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

“Are you surprised?” She looked across quickly.

“Constantly.” The way he said it implied constant surprise was not a good thing.

Primrose changed gears for the last hairpin bend. When they were gaining speed again up the straight to the top of the climb she said, “We’re going to be in the local paper. Danny said they wanted to photograph us.”

“Hah.” Tom grinned. “Our twenty minutes of fame.”

Primrose laughed. But if there was a photo of Tom taken she definitely wanted a copy.

The nurse on duty in the small maternity ward confirmed their celebrity status by announcing to the three new mothers sharing the room with Nirupam that her doctors had arrived. Everyone clapped. Primrose laughed and made a stage bow.

“Tom’s the real hero.”

Tom shuffled his feet awkwardly, grinned, gave a little wave to his fans. Nirupam saved him by calling, “Come and see Dawn.”

The baby was gorgeous. Wrapped in her soft pink sheet with her sweet little face wrinkling into a variety of expressions, she was everything Primrose had ever imagined a baby to be. She cradled the tiny bundle in her arms, cooing softly, smelling the sweet, intoxicating baby smell, reluctant to pass her to Tom, hovering by her side.

“She looks better now than when we saw her last.” He touched Dawn’s cheek gently with one finger. “How are you, Nirupam?”

“Tired and a bit sore but very happy. We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

He bent to kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what neighbours are for.”

They shared a pleased smile. Primrose hugged Dawn tighter and the baby emitted a little squawk of protest.

Fifteen minutes later a young, round-faced reporter arrived, panting, with a camera slung around his neck, a small backpack over his shoulder, and a note pad in his hand. “Hi there. I’m Stephen Meadows,
Moruya Post.
”

He took photos of all three clustered around the baby then Tom holding her looking large and awkward, Tom and Primrose smiling at Nirupam in bed, Primrose cuddling Dawn, Dawn alone.

“Can I have some details, please? Both your names to start then tell me what happened this morning.”

He produced a small voice recorder. Tom spoke, playing down his part so it sounded as though he’d done nothing. When it was her turn Primrose gushed over Tom’s heroic actions, ignoring his pained grunts of disapproval.