IT WAS the sixth day.
The obstetrician had said the tests usually took five days. So today should bring the courier to her door.
As on every other morning, Lara doggedly went to the sewing room, determined on keeping busy, doing what she would have done if Ric had never learnt about her pregnancy. But she'd finished the cot quilt yesterday, and didn't have the heart to start something else, not when the courier could arrive at any minute.
She forced herself to sift through fabrics that might be good for cushion covers—a futile exercise. Her mind could not focus on anything other than the news she was waiting for—the news that would either bring Ric Donato back into her life or keep him out of it forever.
He'd cared about her, more than she had ever expected anyone would, and her heart bled over the loss of Ric's caring. She'd killed it by trying to set him free and he'd taken her decision as meaning it didn't matter to her. He didn't matter to her. And that was the biggest lie of all.
She left the sewing room and wandered listlessly into the nursery, stared at the newly finished quilt that was now spread over the cot, ready for her baby. The desire for it to be Ric's child was desperate now. She knew he would pour all his caring into being a good father, and maybe…maybe somewhere in the future, his caring for their child would spill over onto her and she'd feel it again…the feeling of being his woman, so special to him he'd do anything for her. As he had.
Tears blurred her eyes. There was no chance of any future with him if he wasn't the father. He'd made that all too clear. And she couldn't blame anyone but herself, hiding the truth, too ashamed to lay it all out to him. Too late when she did. Though he might never have accepted the child, anyway, if he wasn't the father.
She had to hang on to that thought.
It was her only protection from breaking up entirely. She had to stay strong for her baby, let Ric go if she had to.
'Mrs. Chappel…?' The housekeeper, not finding her in the sewing room.
'I'm in here, Mrs. Keith. Admiring my quilt,' she added in wry explanation.
The nursery door was open. Lara blinked hard to erase the film of moisture in her eyes and turned to face the housekeeper who took only a few moments to walk the extra metres along the hall. She appeared in the doorway, holding an official looking envelope, and Lara's heart instantly kicked into a fearful gallop.
'This has just come for you, Mrs. Chappel. I've signed for it.' Signed…courier…it had to be…
Lara couldn't bring herself to move, to actually take it, knowing its contents would decide her future. Mrs. Keith had to enter the room to hand it to her, forcing an acceptance of it. The envelope hung between Lara's fingers and thumb, just a sliver of paper, yet it sent pins and needles over her entire body. She stared down at the official printing on its top left-hand corner—DNA Diagnostics Centre.
'Shall I bring your morning tea up here, Mrs. Chappel?'
She barely heard the words. Her ears were filled with the drumbeat of Fate rolling inexorably over her.
'No.' Even her own voice sounded far away. 'I'll have it out on the patio near the swimming pool, Mrs. Keith. Sit in the sun for a while.' Though it was unlikely to warm her. The chill in her bones went too deep.
The housekeeper nodded and left, giving Lara immediate privacy.
Because she had to know what the envelope meant. Tea and sympathy, Lara thought, though nothing would be said. Mrs. Keith would wait to be told what could be expected in the future—a part-time father for the baby to be born…or none at all.
The question could be answered right now. All Lara had to do was open the envelope, read the results of the DNA test. Do it, she told herself, but her fingers wouldn't obey the order. They felt numb, not connected to her brain. Or there was a bank of resistance in her mind, overriding the dictate.
She walked downstairs and out to the patio, carrying the still sealed envelope with her. The sky was blue. Not a cloud in it. The harbour lay glittering in front of her. It could have been a summer's day, except for the slight nip in the air. But there was winter in her soul and the sunshine did nothing to dispel it.
She set the envelope on the table, where she had sat and wept when Ric had forced her to tell the truth about her marriage. He'd had to do that all along—forcing truth from her. Even now she couldn't look at it—the truth of the DNA test. After Mrs. Keith had served the tea, she told herself. Then she'd be alone with it, more ready to cope with whatever it meant to her.
The memory of Ric standing out here that first morning drew her over to where he had stood, taking in the view. Had he actually been looking at it, or seeing only the memories he had of her—memories of a far more innocent time when it had felt as though they'd been born for each other.
Even then she'd hidden the truth, avoiding telling her parents about Ric, knowing they would disapprove of any relationship with him and move to cut him out of her life. And that, in turn had led Ric into believing he wasn't good enough for her, stealing the Porsche…
It was she who wasn't good enough for him.
He'd grown into a man that any woman in the world would be proud to have at her side, and not just because he was handsome and wealthy. He was so much more than that…so much more. And she hadn't even had the wits to see through Gary Chappel's charming facade to the cold, cruelly calculating heart within.
She didn't deserve Ric, didn't deserve his caring. It was enough—more than enough—that he'd freed her from Gary so she could make something positive out of her life.
And taking her to Gundamurra. That had been good for her, too. She had a lot to be grateful for. Although none of it eased the ache inside her. She hugged herself, trying to make it go away. The baby would make up for the painful sense of loss. Her baby…
Footsteps on the patio behind her…the housekeeper bringing out a tray of morning tea things…the sealed envelope still on the table. What were Marie Antoinette's infamous words before she was condemned to the guillotine? Let them eat cake?
'Just set it down, thank you, Mrs. Keith,' Lara instructed without turning around. 'I'll serve myself when I'm ready.'
No reply.
No sound of the tray being set on the glass surface of the outdoors table. No footsteps going away.
Absolute silence.
Was the housekeeper staring at the unopened envelope?