Page 112 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Lachlan hadn’t said anything much about it since, and Rowena wondered how long the question had been on his mind.

‘She told me that day, when I was with her. When you were on the phone. But not before that, no.’

He glanced at her. ‘It didn’t surprise you, though?’

‘In retrospect, no. A few things fell into place,’ she admitted. ‘Her cough. Her weight loss, which I’d only remarked on a couple of days beforehand. And I remembered later Gina mentioning she’d seen Reggie at the hospital.’

‘I wish she’d told me.’

‘She probably didn’t want you to worry. Or try and talk her into treatment.’

‘Yeah.’ He didn’t say anything for long moments as they walked side by side. ‘She’d have hated being in hospital in the city.’

‘Ooh yeah,’ Rowena agreed with a wry smile.

‘She always said the only way they were taking her out of here was in a box,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I just wish she’d got to see—’ Lachlan’s voice cracked and Rowena heard his throat work as he swallowed. ‘The baby.’

A lump thickened and pressed against her own vocal cords as Rowena leaned into him and said, ‘Me too.’ She might not know exactly what their future looked like right now, but Rowena had always pictured Reggie being in it.

Lachlan drew in an unsteady breath. ‘How do you feel about the name Reggie, for the baby? Doesn’t have to be a first name. It was my mum’s middle name, too.’

His request caught her by surprise. Not because it was left of field but because they’d studiously not talked baby names. Rowena hadn’t wanted to tempt fate.

But his suggestion felt so right in this moment. ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea.’

‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘It means a lot.’

Rowena nodded. ‘To me too.’

*

Over the following days, most of the family departed. Rowena was in and out with work but it seemed every time she came home, another few cars had left. A week after the funeral there was just Katrina and Pamela—their husbands had since left—who were sleeping at the homestead, and three lots of cousins and their families still in the bunkhouse.

If Lachlan and Albert minded the extra bodies, neither said. Personally, Rowena thought the company a good distraction for the two stoic men. Maybe still having family around was delaying the inevitability of an empty house, but there was nothing wrong with a slow transition, surely?

They were both back at work doing whatever it was they did all day, every day, but neither had to come home to a dark, quiet house or a cold stove. Not that they were going to have to cook for a long time with all the food donations arriving regularly from the community.

Rowena came home one afternoon after working two hours overtime, to find three of Lachlan’s little second cousins petting Shirley, giggling as she nuzzled their heads. Lachlan was with another second cousin on the veranda—Tamsin, a teenage girl—teaching her how to play the bagpipes.

Lisa, their mother, was watching it all indulgently, sitting on a blanket on the grass. They were leaving in the morning and she was clearly lapping it all up.

‘I hope you and your neighbours are prepared for the racket you’re going to have to endure if your daughter wants to continue that when she gets home,’ Rowena said as she approached.

Lisa laughed. ‘I’m not worried. Tamsin is going through a cool stage. Bagpipes out here might be okay, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be cringe’—Lisa shuddered at the term she’d obviously heard way too many times—‘with her friends.’

‘Gotta love peer pressure,’ Rowena said as she sat.

‘Busy day?’ Lisa asked.

Rowena blew out a breath, ruffling her fringe as she eased her aching legs out in front. ‘Yep.’

Of course, that was all relative. A busy day in the Acacia Junction ED was nowhere near as full-on as a shift could be when a critically ill neonate was involved. But both sure made the hours fly by.

They watched the scene in companionable silence, the strangled noise of the bagpipes their backing track, until Lisa turned a speculative gaze on Rowena.

‘So …’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘When on earth is that cousin of mine going to put a ring on it?’

In case Rowena didn’t get the meaning, she waggled her left hand. Lisa needn’t have bothered—the question, and the meaning, hit Rowena like a ton of bricks.