Free A Father At Last by Julie Mac Page A

sense of humour. “We’re talking Gold Coast holiday resort here, not the wilds of the Northern Territory. And anyway, Jamie’s great with him—like a dad really…” The laughter died on her lips.

    Ben’s face, his whole body, was granite‐still, his tension palpable. He said nothing.
    She tried to read his eyes, but in the soft wash of the street lights, they were no more than murky pools.

    Now. Tell him now. Tell him the truth. She took a long, slow breath, but before she could form the words she knew she must say, he was speaking again.

    “Would you trust his real father—his blood father—to take him away on holiday?
    Without you?” He spoke softly, but his words were strained and compressed, as if dredged from some great depth. It must have been a rhetorical question because he continued, obviously not expecting an answer.

    “Do you lie awake at night, Kelly, scared, wondering if Dylan’s father might turn up on your doorstep one day and claim custody—part time, full time, for holidays, whatever?”

    Fear hit in an icy blast, clutching her chest in its evil grip. Her heart squeezed blood, heavy as lead, too fast, too much; her lungs pumped in hard, short bursts.

    She’d lost her dad, she’d lost her mum.

    Her heart squeezed tighter.

    How could she ever bear to lose her precious baby—her beautiful boy? He’s mine!
    She wanted to cry out the words, pummel Ben with them.

    Instead, she reached back with her hands, searching for support against her car.
    “No,” she whispered raggedly, shaking her head from side to side, knowing she told a monumental lie.

    He took her hands then, pulling her into a tight embrace and gently guiding her head into the crook of his shoulder.

    “Don’t,” he whispered, close to her ear. “Don’t be afraid.”

    They stood like that for what seemed to Kelly a long time. He’d just voiced her worst nightmare, but somehow, crazy as it seemed, his whispered words of comfort and the strength of his arms, his body, wrapped around hers, were soothing, and gradually, her heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal. And as it did, the irrational flight or fight response of her body was conquered by logic. Ben wasn’t a threat, she reasoned, because Ben didn’t know he was Dylan’s father. He was talking hypothetically. Of course he was.

    A Father at Last

    She was aware then of him shifting his stance and she felt his hand trail down her face in a gentle caress.

    “Will you be okay, sweetheart, going home on your own?” he asked softly, looking down at her and seeking out her eyes.

    She nodded.

    “I’ll call you,” he said, kissing her briefly on the lips, and reaching around her to open the driver’s door. Then he bent to put on his shoes.

    She slid into the car, and pulled out her phone from under the dash. “Give me your number,” she said, “and I’ll text you so you’ve got my number too.”

    She had her phone in her hand and her fingers ready to tap in his number when she heard him say, “Goodbye, babe.”

    He shut the door on her and walked away. For ten seconds she sat, eyes wide, breathing suspended, as she listened to his retreating footsteps. Then she started her car and headed for the road without looking back.

    Julie Mac

    Chapter 4

    “There’s a call for you from a Mr Carter, Kelly.”

    Kelly froze at her desk. Mr Carter? Mr Ben Carter?

    “Kelly? Can you take the call?”

    “Ah…yes. No! Mr Carter, did you say?”

    “Mr Carter. Can you take his call? Yes or no?”

    Jess, the receptionist, in her forties, sophisticated and downright bossy, was close to losing patience with her, she could tell. She took a deep breath, and Jess must have heard it down the phone line because she said, “Come on Kelly, you can do it,” and now there was laughter in her voice. “This Mr Carter sounds like one hell of a hot guy. Do yourself a favour and talk to him.”

    She let out a long breath. “Okay, Jess, put him