Page 23 of Best Laid Plans

‘You answer it then.’ She knew she sounded tense, but she couldn’t help it. Will’s question unnerved her. It was too searching, too close to a truth she didn’t want to reveal. ‘Are you happy, Will? Is your work enough?’

‘Not anymore.’

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected and she took a moment to digest it. ‘I suppose that’s why you’re looking for something different?’

‘I suppose it is.’ He circled the rim of his glass with his finger. ‘I’ve had a bit of a wakeup call.’

A swift flare of shock ripped through Lucy like a sniper’s gunshot. ‘Will, you’re not sick, are you?’

‘No, thank God, but I’ve had a close shave. I haven’t told my family this. I didn’t want to upset them, but there was an explosion in an old mine we were surveying.’

‘In Mongolia?’

‘Yes.’ His face was suddenly tight and strained. ‘The two men with me were both killed. Right in front of me. I’ve no idea how I escaped with a few scratches and bruises.’

‘Oh, God, Will, that’s terrible.’ Tears threatened again as Lucy tried not to think the unthinkable – that there had almost been a world where Will didn’t exist.

‘I went to their funerals,’ Will said quietly. ‘And they really opened my eyes.’

‘In what way?’

In the moonlight, she could see the sober intensity in Will’s face.

‘Barney was a bachelor, you see. No ties. So his funeral was a simple gathering of family and friends. There were a few words to say he was a good bloke and then a rather boozy wake. But Keith was a family man, always talking about his wife and three kids. And at the funeral his son spoke.’

Will sighed and rubbed at his forehead. ‘He was such a courageous little guy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old. And he stood up there in front of us, with these big brown eyes, shiny with tears. His voice was all squeaky and threatening to break, but he told us all how proud he was of his father and how he wanted to live his life in a way that would go on making his dad proud.’

Tears threatened as Lucy thought of that little boy. She could picture his mother, too. The poor woman would have been so proud, despite her grief.

‘I can’t stop thinking about that kid,’ Will said. ‘He was like this fantastic gift to the world that Keith had left behind.’

Lucy reached for the handkerchief she’d tucked into the bodice of her dress and dabbed at her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will said. ‘I’m being maudlin, talking about funerals when we’ve just been to a wedding.’

‘No, it’s OK.’ She sniffed and sent him a watery smile. ‘It’s just happened to you, so of course it’s on your mind. Anyway, that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? Births, deaths and marriages.’

He smiled sadly. ‘I guess I’m a slow learner. It wasn’t till I was sitting in that church, that I suddenly got it. I could finally understand why Gina went to so much trouble to have a family, and why Mattie was prepared to undergo something so amazingly challenging as a surrogate pregnancy.’

‘Yes,’ Lucy said, but the single word came out too loud and sounded more like a sob.

The dogs lifted their heads and made soft, whining noises in her direction. With a cry of dismay, Will lurched to his feet.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I should be more sensitive. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.’

He was referring her miscarriage. Would he shocked to hear that she still longed for a baby, that her need was bordering on obsession?

With an angry shake of his head, he went to the window, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and looked out into the night.

Despite her tension, Lucy was mesmerised by the sight of him limned by moonlight. Her eyes feasted on his profile, on his intelligent forehead, on the decisive jut of his nose, his strong chin with its appealing cleft.

Without looking at her, he said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t found someone else and settled down to start a family.’

Oh, help. Lucy stiffened. Again, Will had gone too far. Again, her chin lifted in defence and she hit back. ‘I could say the same about you.’

‘Ah.’ He turned back from the window. His eyes shimmered and he said in a dry tone, ‘But I’m the vagabond and you’re the homebody.’

Too true.

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