of Josh’s death had caused Lucy to have a miscarriage.
A miscarriage?
Will had been plagued by endless questions—questions he’d had no right to ask. Which had come first—the engagement or the pregnancy? Had Josh truly loved Lucy?
A week after the funeral he’d tried to speak to her, but Dr McKenty had been fiercely protective of his daughter and he’d turned Will away.
So the only certainties that he’d been left with were Josh’s death and Lucy’s loss, and he’d found it pitifully easy to take the blame for both.
To make amends, he’d actually tried to stay on at Tambaroora after Josh’s death. But he couldn’t replace Josh in his father’s eyes and he’d soon known that he didn’t fit in any more. He was a piece from a flashy foreign jigsaw trying to fit into a homemade puzzle.
For Will, it had made sense to leave again and to stay away longer. In time, he’d trained himself to stop dwelling on the worst of it. But of course he couldn’t stay away from his home and family for ever and there were always going to be times, like now, when everything came back to haunt him.
Lucy dreamed about Will.
In her dream they were back at Sydney University and they’d met in the refectory for coffee and to compare notes after a chemistry practical.
It was an incredibly simple but companionable scene. She and Will had always enjoyed hanging out together, and in her dream they were sitting at one of the little tables overlooking the courtyard, chatting and smiling and discussing the results of their latest experiments.
When it was time to leave for separate lectures, Lucy announced calmly, as if it was a normal extension of their everyday conversation, ‘Oh, by the way, Will, I’m pregnant.’
Will’s face broke into a beautiful smile and he drew her into his arms and hugged her, and Lucy knew that her pregnancy was the perfect and natural expression of their love.
She felt the special protection of his arms about her and she was filled with a sense of perfect happiness, of well-being, of everything being right in her world.
When she woke, she lay very still with her eyes closed, lingering for as long as she could in the happy afterglow of the dream, clinging to the impossible fantasy that she was pregnant.
Better than that, she was pregnant with Will’s baby. Not his brother’s…
The dream began to fade and she could no longer ignore the fact that morning sunlight was pulsing on the other side of her closed eyelids.
Reality reared its unwelcome head.
Damn.
Not that dream again. How stupid.
Actually, it was more like a recurring nightmare, so far divorced from Lucy’s real life that she always felt sick when she woke. She hated to think that her subconscious could still, after all this time, play such cruel tricks on her.
In truth, she’d never been brave enough to let her friendship with Will progress into anything deeper. At university, she’d seen all the other girls who’d fallen for him. She’d watched Will date them for a while and then move on, and she’d decided it was safer to simply be his buddy. His friend.
As his girlfriend she’d risk losing him and she couldn’t have coped with that. If they remained good friends, she could keep him for ever.
Or so she’d thought.
The plan had serious flaws, of course, which was no doubt why she was still plagued far too often by the dream.
But now, as Lucy opened her eyes, she knew it was time to wake up to more important realities. This wasn’t just any morning. It was Mattie’s wedding day.
This was a day for hair appointments and manicures, helping Mattie to dress and smiling for photographs. This was to be her friend’s perfect day.
Get over it, Lucy.
Get over yourself.
Stifling a lingering twinge of longing for the dream, she threw off the bedclothes, went to the window and looked out. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and filled with sunshine. She smiled.
No more useless longings. No more doleful thoughts.
Surely clear blue skies were a very promising omen?
In Willowbank everyone was abuzz.
With the help of friends and relatives from around the district, Mattie’s mum had grown masses of white petunias in pots and tubs and even in wheelbarrows.
Lucy happily helped a team of women to unload containers of flowers from their cars and place them strategically in the church and the grounds, as well as the marquee where the reception was to be held in an allotment next to the church hall. The instant floral effect was spectacular.
After that, the morning passed in a happy whirl, much to Lucy’s relief. First, she met up with Mattie and Gina at the hairdresser’s, then they popped into the salon next door for matching manicures, and finally they dashed back to Mattie’s for a delicious light lunch prepared by one of her doting aunts.
During lunch the phone seemed never to stop ringing and all kinds of messages flew back and forth. Gina’s mum, who was babysitting the twins, reported that they’d been fed and burped and were sleeping beautifully. Nurses from the Sydney hospital where the babies had been born rang to wish Mattie and Jake all the best for married life. The caterer had a question about the positioning of the wedding cake on the main table.
Lucy had to admire the way Mattie seemed to float through it all. She was the most serene bride ever. Nothing bothered her or was too much trouble. Mattie had always been sweet and easygoing, but she’d never been as blissfully relaxed and happy and confident as she was today.
It must be love, Lucy thought, and she wished it was contagious.
Shortly after lunch, the excitement really began. Refrigerated boxes arrived from the florist, filled with truly gorgeous bouquets. Then it was time for the girls to put on their make-up, laughing as they took turns in front of Mattie’s bedroom mirror, the same mirror where years ago they had first experimented with mascara and eyeliner while they’d gossiped about boys.
Back then, Lucy, being older and from the city, had been considered to be wiser and worldlier. The other girls had looked up to her with undisguised respect and considerable awe.
How the tables had turned. Now Gina was married and a mother, and Mattie was about to marry Jake, while Lucy was…
No! She wasn’t going to tolerate a single negative thought today.
When they’d achieved their best with makeup, Gina and Lucy slipped into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which were simply divine. The palest pink duchess satin looked equally pretty on Gina with her dark hair and olive complexion as it did on Lucy, who was blonde and fair-skinned.
Then it was time to fuss over Mattie, to fasten the dozens of tiny satin-covered buttons down her back, to help to secure her veil and then to gasp in sheer astonishment
