And not.
Today he had to be dispassionate. Today he needed to map out a sensible future for both of them.
Including a baby?
For all of them.
* * *
They ate lunch on the banks of the river, and the magnificence of the surroundings took her breath away.
Not enough, however, for her not to notice the lunch the guys at the landing place had handed them as they’d launched the kayak. Everything was in elegant, boxed containers, carefully labelled. Tiny bread rolls. Curls of golden butter. Crayfish, broken into bite-sized pieces. Tiny tomatoes, slivers of lettuce, radish, carrot, celery and a mouthwatering mayonnaise. Quiche in a container that had kept it warm.
Éclairs filled with chocolate and creamy custard. Strawberries, watermelon, grapes.
Wine if she wanted, which she didn’t. Two types of soda. Beer for Ben.
It should have been cold. They’d been drifting on fast-moving water from the spring thaw, but today...today it was summer.
Today was a day she’d remember for the rest of her life.
She ate the last éclair she could possibly fit in, stretched back on cushions—cushions!—and gazed up through the massive branches of a pine to the sun glinting through.
‘This has been magic,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me.’
‘I could bring you once a month,’ he said. ‘Every time I come.’
It was said matter-of-factly, like a neighbour offering to share a shopping run. Once a month, take it or leave it.
‘So you’d pop an airline ticket in the post for me once a month,’ she managed when she got her breath back. This was fantasy. Maybe it was time they got out of here.
‘I want you to stay.’ He hesitated and then he said it. ‘Mary, I want you to marry me.’
* * *
As a breathtaker it was right up there with the feeling she’d had when she’d looked at the blue line on her pregnancy-testing kit.
Maybe it was higher. She’d suspected she was pregnant. This had come from nowhere.
She’d been almost asleep, sated with the beauty of the morning, the food, the feeling of being with a man she felt instinctively would dive to her protection if a loon suddenly swooped to steal her éclair.
She wasn’t asleep now.
I want you to marry me.
She glanced sharply at Ben, expecting to see him just as dreamlike, making an idle joke that could be laughed off. Instead, she saw a man so tense there might be an army of loons lined up for attack.
‘Wh-what?’ She could barely get the word out. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve spent twenty-four hours thinking about it,’ he said. ‘It’s the only logical thing to do.’
She nodded, forcing herself to sound practical. Nurse humouring lunatic. ‘Logical. I can see that.’
‘Can you?’
‘Um...no.’
‘You won’t be permitted to stay here unless we’re married,’ he told her. ‘American immigration isn’t welcoming to single mothers with no visible means of support.’
‘Right.’ She should sit up, she thought, but that’d mean taking his proposal seriously.
It didn’t deserve it.
‘I wasn’t aware,’ she said at last, ‘that I wanted to live in America.’ She glanced around and felt bound to add a rider. ‘It’s very nice,’ she conceded. ‘But it’s not home.’
‘Where’s home?’
‘In Taikohe, of course,’ she said, astounded.
‘Are you happy there?
‘I have a job. I have neighbours. I have Heinz.’
‘I’ve enquired about Heinz. We can get him over almost straight away.’
‘To, what, live in your flash apartment?’ This was the craziest conversation she’d ever had. ‘Ben, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about us,’ he said, and his voice said he wasn’t crazy at all. His voice said this was a serious proposal. He’d put all the pieces of some weird jigsaw together and come up with a fully formulated plan. ‘Mary, I’ve spent most of yesterday thinking this through. I would like to help you raise this child.’
Raise this child... That sounded mechanical, she thought. It sounded like following a recipe for making bread, or shifting a wreck off the ocean floor. Raise this child...
‘How?’ she managed, and apparently he really had thought about it.
‘We’re loners,’ he told her. ‘Both of us. We need our own space. That’s a problem in that we need to raise this child together, but it’s also good in that you have few ties to New Zealand. I’ve been trying to figure out how you could move to New York. I’ve run through the options, and the only one that’ll work is marriage.’
‘I...see,’ she managed, but she didn’t.
‘You won’t get a green card unless we do.’
‘Why would I want a green card?’
‘So you can stay here,’ he said patiently. ‘So I can have a say in raising this baby.’
‘Will you stop saying “raising,”’ she snapped, shock suddenly finding an expression. ‘It’s like building with Lego blocks. Producing something. A technical procedure. This is a baby we’re talking about. A little person. You don’t have to stand above and pull.’
‘But it’ll be work,’ he said, refusing to be deflected. ‘You can’t want to bring it up by yourself.’
‘I have Heinz—and my baby’s not an it.’
‘He—or she—will be my son or daughter, too.
‘But you can’t make me stay.’ A niggle of fear suddenly grew much bigger. Had it been a mistake to tell him? He was a Logan. He had the world’s resources behind him.
‘I won’t make you stay.’ His voice gentled, as if he sensed her sudden terror and was backing off. ‘How could I force you? But I want you to think about it. It could be good for both of us.’
‘How would it be good?’ she snapped. ‘I know no one. I don’t know if my nursing qualifications are acceptable. I have nowhere to live. I have nothing.’
‘You could write,’ he said, and shoved a hand into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her and then sat back and waited for her to read it.
She glared. She stared at the paper as if it contained explosives.
‘Read it,’ he said, gently, and she had no choice. And the letter took her breath away all over again.
Hey, Ben.
I’ll admit I was pissed when you pushed me to read this so fast but now I’ll admit to being impressed. This is raw talent and it’s good. The story needs work but we could really take this places, especially if you’re prepared to back us with publicity. It could be huge. Tell her to finish it and we’ll go from there but if the end’s as good as the beginning, we have a goer.
And then:
PS Her hero’s sounding a lot like you, Ben, boy. Made me chuckle. She’s good, your lady.
It was an email, dated late last night. From a publisher whose name