Page 77 of Lela's Choice

The blow rocked him to his core. “If you’re pregnant,” he paused.Improbable but not impossible.

“If I’m pregnant?” she stormed. “What difference does that make?” She fought back and in ways he hadn’t expected. Her pride, her refusal to accept less than the truth, even if that hurt, had both tempted and excited him from their first meeting.

“I couldn’t leave you alone with a child.” He should never have touched her.

“I wouldn’t take you.”

The desolation on her face hollowed Hamish out. “You’re not making sense.”

“You have to chooseme, Hamish. Me, with all the risks and uncertainties that entails,” she raged. “Later we might choose to have a family. A child is not a reason to marry or live together.”

“But your father?”

“To hell with Papa.” She turned her back on him.

“Lela, listen to yourself. One minute you won’t do anything that might upset your father, the next you’re talking about being a single parent, like your...” He tailed off at the ferocious look in her eyes.

“Sister. You were going to say like my sister. Mari took a risk on love. Taking risks for love is a sign of courage and joy, an affirmation of life. It’s a damn sight more appealing than taking a risk for someone who says they care for you, and hey, the sex is great, so let’s hook up when it’s convenient.” She was incandescent with fury. If she pointed a finger in his direction, he might spontaneously combust, and Hamish knew he deserved to burn in hell for not keeping his vow, for taking what he craved. Loving her had been like grabbing hold of sunshine.

“Hell.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. Telling her the sex was incredible had been a mistake, fanning her rage. “At sixteen they had no idea what love was. We’re completely off track here. I want you to promise to tell me if you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant.” Her voice held a mix of resignation and despair.

“You’ll tell me,” Hamish insisted.

“Even in the midst of mindless lust, you took precautions. A responsible, careful, consider-all-the-consequences man. I won’t be pregnant.”

“Condoms aren’t foolproof. I didn’t consider all the consequences. If I had, I’d never have touched you. You make me want things I can’t have. I don’t want to hurt you, never wanted to hurt you.” In the morning he might be grateful she’d refused an affair because she was right. Now, all he could see was he couldn’t bear to let her go completely.

“Too late, MacGregor.” She bent to pick up the scraps of lace. Her bra and pants had been kicked under the bed in their crazy, shameless dance to strip each other. She tucked them in the pocket of her dress. “An affair won’t work.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“Because loving you has shown me that while I’m not the narrow-minded conservative my aunt is, I do want a conventional relationship with you—contact with the rest of my family and yours, introducing you to my friends, meeting yours. The dream of children.” Tumbled from their lovemaking, and struggling with his rejection, she fought his platitudes. She didn’t lack courage.

“You want everything.”Hell, now I’m blaming her. Good one, MacGregor.

“Having a love affair means just that to me. Loving, committing. Better than wanting nothing. You’ve built in the end of our relationship. I’m just fulfilling your expectations for us. Let me go now.”

* * *

LELA FORCED HERSELFto collect fruit and cereal from the breakfast buffet.

Last night she’d stumbled into her room and crept under the bedclothes. Rolling onto her side, she’d huddled in a ball. She’d screamed, and screamed again, uncaring whether the doona muffled her primal roar—raging about the death of Hamish’s wife and unborn child, about all the dreams he’d lost, and about those he wouldn’t allow himself. In the hours before dawn, she grieved her own loss.

What about me?

Taking a seat, she stared at the plates in front of her.Ilalu—I don’t want to eat.

So what are you doing with all this food?

Establish routines, fill the day with tasks that take you from one moment to the next. At ten, Lela had lucked out. The hospital social worker with her when Mari died had followed up. She’d counselled Lela, given her a sounding board in those first years and taught her the value of routine and normality for survival. Eat, drink, sleep, walk, talk and one day you won’t be doing those things as a zombie anymore. One day you’ll see the sky and be able to distinguish between the beauty and perfume of a rose and the dank odour of a musty cupboard. One day she’d laugh easily again.

Lela was sipping tea when Hamish arrived.

He slipped into the seat opposite hers. “Running away? Paying for a first-class seat. Isn’t that a waste of money?”

“Emergencies call for extreme measures.”

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