come Celine never told us her brother was such a fabulous hunk, always calling him the brain?’ Lucy complained.
‘He can’t be too nerdy in the brain department because he was making Tammy laugh her head off,’ Jennifer informed them before quizzing her directly. ‘What was he saying to you? And why did he call you Tamalyn? Were you being uppity with him?’
‘He thinks I’m exotic, so I was giving him exotic,’ she answered.
They all hooted at this description of her.
‘Don’t knock it!’ she commanded. ‘It’s not every day I look like this, or smell like this, thank you, Jennifer—so I might as well take advantage of it.’
‘Go for it, girl!’ they chorussed, echoing what she’d told herself.
They’d always encouraged each other with that phrase. It was characteristic of the camaraderie they shared. Tammy thought how lucky she had been to have such good friends over the years, and hoped their closeness would not get too eroded by other relationships. Now that Celine had Andrew, she wasn’t so available to them anymore, which was natural enough. As each of them got married—if they did—the degree of separation would inevitably become greater. Life moved on. She just hoped it wouldn’t move them too far apart.
Fletcher’s world revolved around the serious hubs of power overseas, a whole ocean away from Sydney and the life she had mapped out for herself. It was a point she would do well to remember, not get too carried away by an attraction that had little chance of going any further than today.
Yet who knew what the future held?
Right now it held Fletcher Stanton at the next stop, and all she wanted to do was bask in that wonderfully tantalising thought.
CHAPTER TWO
THE grounds of Boronia House were picture perfect: wonderful old pine trees shading glorious banks of azaleas in full bloom. The house itself was a lovely backdrop, built in the old colonial style with verandahs running around both storeys, tall French doors opening onto them, white columns interspersing the intricately patterned white iron lace that ran around the eaves and the upper balcony. In the centre of the manicured lawn was a magnolia tree, laden with its purple and pink flowers, the grass around it strewn with fallen petals. The photographer had just posed the bride and groom in front of it when Fletcher Stanton started tarnishing his golden image.
‘That looks so romantic!’ Tammy enthused with a happy sigh.
‘Yes. I’d have to give Celine top marks for picking great staging,’ he agreed amiably. ‘But I can’t help questioning if the romance of a wedding has clouded her brain.’
They were alone together, waiting in the shade of a giant pine tree for the next group photo-call. The others had trooped off to the house to refresh themselves while they were free to do so. Tammy had not been inclined to leave Fletcher’s side, eager to share every moment she could with him, and he had remained with her, apparently just as pleased to have her company.
However, the cynical twist of his last comment was not to her liking. She turned to him with a frown. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged. ‘Celine is only twenty-three, not even set in a career. It’s stupid to get married this young.’ His eyes challenged hers, cutting through the shock of his statement. ‘Would you do it?’
‘If I loved a man to distraction, as Celine does Andrew, and he loved me just as deeply, yes, I would,’ she answered vehemently.
One black eyebrow arched. ‘You’d tie yourself to a relationship before you’ve even begun to explore all you’re capable of? Before you find out what else you might want in your life?’
It came over loud and clear that he was not about to tie himself to a relationship that might cramp his life style.
‘I don’t see why marriage has to stop anything,’ she argued. ‘It should complement things. Make them even better with sharing.’
‘How often does marriage live up to that ideal?’ he mocked.
Never when it’s entered into for the wrong reasons, Tammy thought.
‘The statistics tell another story,’ Fletcher ran on, arrogantly confident of his argument. ‘Especially where young marriages are concerned.’
Young…old… Tammy had seen absolute devotion to each other in all sorts of couples during her time in different hospital wards, training to be a nurse. Marriage could and did work if there was real caring between the persons involved.
‘I happen to think that letting statistics rule your life is even more stupid,’ she retorted hotly, delivering a scathing look before refixing her gaze on Celine and Andrew, who were looking adoringly at each other for the camera. Though it wasn’t just for the camera, Tammy assured herself. Their feelings were real, not manufactured for this moment.
‘There are always exceptions to any rule,’ she added to drive the point home, wanting the best for her friend. The very best. And it was offensive for Fletcher to be airing these opinions at his own sister’s wedding. He should try having a bit more faith in Celine’s judgement. Soul-mates were difficult to find and age had nothing to do with it.
Regrettably, Fletcher Stanton was taking himself out of the running to be her soul-mate. Vexation and disappointment tore at Tammy’s heart. He’d looked so good, felt so good, sounded good until a minute ago.
‘That’s true,’ he conceded, re-animating her interest in him.
There was nothing too arrogant about a man who would stand corrected. She could deal with a reasonable human being. The rigidity in her spine softened. Her ears tingled with anticipation for what more he might say, preferably something she could hug warmly to her heart.
‘I do hope this marriage doesn’t turn into a mistake. I want Celine to be happy in it.’
The sincerity in his voice was lovely to hear, and Tammy was deeply in tune with these sentiments. ‘I’ve never seen her so happy,’ she said, smiling dreamily at the newly joined couple.
‘What about you, Tamalyn? Are you happy with your life?’
She turned the smile to him. ‘Yes, I am.’ As long as she didn’t count not being in love with anyone. Though a wild hope whispered that could change by the end of the evening. ‘I’m now a fully qualified nurse, and this year I’m training to be a midwife which is what I want to be.’
‘A midwife…’ He eyed her curiously. ‘Why?’
‘Because there’s nothing more exciting than helping to deliver a new life. I love working in the maternity ward.’
He looked bemused. ‘You don’t mind squawling babies?’
‘They only cry when something’s not right for them. I like making things right. It’s very rewarding.’
‘I guess that’s relatively easy to do when their needs are so basic,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Needs get much more complex as people get older.’
‘How complex are yours?’
The quick shot
