Marion Lennox - His Miracle Bride

Wendy was sitting in the back of the police station, in a lounge the officers used during breaks. She was drinking hot chocolate, her eyes enormous over her mug.

The constable opened the door and she cringed.

Pierce thought his heart would break, right then and there.

‘Wendy,’ he whispered, and she put her mug very carefully on the table and lifted her chin. Defiant. Only it didn’t quite work. Her chin wobbled and sank again. She was still a very little girl.

‘Are you mad at me?’ she whispered, and it was enough.

He was over at the table, kicking a chair aside as if it was presumptuous enough to get in his way. He was hugging her, holding her tight against him, burying his face in her lovely short curls. Damn it he was weeping.

‘She’s okay,’ the police constable said from behind him, and he fought a bit for composure, hugged Wendy a bit more and then managed to put Wendy far enough away from him so he could see her face.

It was as tear stained as…well, as his must be.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘There’s no need to be sorry. We have you safe.’

‘She’d been walking for hours,’ the constable said with a hint of reproof. ‘No one uses that road at that hour of night. The milk tanker starts at six and he found her on the first run. She had her thumb up like a real hitch-hiker. Then, when he stopped, she ran away.’

‘He…I was…’ Wendy tried to make her voice work, but failed. She was terrified. Her whole body was shaking. This child had learned the hard way that men weren’t to be trusted.

‘He didn’t know what to do,’ the policeman said. ‘But he thought, well, he chased her and caught her and brought her here. By the time he brought her in he had her calmed down a little-apparently he has a kid in her class at school-but she was scared witless.’

‘Hell, Wendy…’

‘I wanted to go to Shanni.’

‘I organized that at least,’ the cop said. ‘Before I rang your place I let her ring Shanni.’

Pierce was having trouble taking it all in. ‘You rang Shanni?’

‘If she’d gone to all that trouble, and we’d stopped her running away, the least I could do was let her phone.’

‘Did Shanni give you her number?’ Pierce asked Wendy, and Wendy shook her head and buried her face in Pierce’s shoulder again.

‘It was me,’ the cop said, a bit shamefaced. He motioned to a bit of art paper lying on the desk. ‘Shanni gave me her number a couple of weeks back. I was going to use it, too,’ he muttered. ‘But she was so caught up with all those kids. I’m not a family man.’

Pierce took Wendy home. She said little, huddled into the passenger seat as if still frightened, looking far younger than her years.

He couldn’t figure out the why, and she wouldn’t say.

‘I just had to ask her something,’ she whispered and that was all she’d say. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Wendy, if you ever want to ask anyone anything-if you ever want to visit anyone-just ask me. I swear I’ll take you.’

‘I know. But I needed to talk to her by myself.’

Even at home she wouldn’t talk. Olga took one look and showed her true colours-born mum.

‘The rest of you leave her alone. She’s had a nasty shock-anyone can see that. And look at those feet…walking all that way in sandals. Even though they are pretty. Into the bath with you, sweetheart, and Abby you come and sit beside her while I wash her. You.’ She turned on Pierce. ‘You make her a lovely soft egg with toast soldiers. We’ll feed it to her in the bath.’

‘Toast soldiers,’ Pierce said blankly.

‘Hey, even I know that one,’ Nik said, grinning. They were all grinning. ‘Hell, bro, you have a way to go in the parenting stakes.’

Wendy soaked in her bath. She ate her toast fingers and then Olga popped her to sleep on the ancient divan in the corner of the kitchen.

‘For you don’t want to be alone upstairs,’ she said. ‘The rest of you, shoo outside while I do some baking.’

‘Abby,’ Wendy whispered.

‘I’ll lie down with her,’ Abby volunteered, and Pierce thought his heart would break all over again.

‘There’s naught for you to do here,’ Olga told him, the way her words softened on the order telling him she understood a little of what he must be going through. ‘Go round up some cows, or whatever you do with cows.’

‘Hey, teach us,’ Nik said.

‘Aren’t you two going back to wherever you come from?’ Pierce demanded.

‘Hell, no,’ Blake said. ‘We’re waiting for the next instalment.’

Which happened approximately two minutes after they’d cleared the main course of Olga’s delicious roast lunch, and just as she was cutting and serving the apple pie.

Wendy was deeply asleep in the corner. Bessy was tossing food indiscriminately round her high chair. Everyone else was at the table

Shanni walked in. She looked like Pierce had that morning-jeans and windcheater-and she hadn’t taken time to brush her hair.

Dazed.

‘Hi,’ she said.

There was an awed silence.

‘Shanni,’ Pierce said stupidly.

‘Shanni,’ Abby yelled, as if she hadn’t seen her for a year. ‘Shanni’s here. Wendy, wake up, Shanni’s here.’

‘Why are you here?’ Pierce asked, trying to get his voice to work.

‘I’m here to ask if you’ll marry me.’

Pierce had been spooning creamed apple into Bessy’s mouth. His hand had locked, spoon halfway to Bessy’s mouth.

Around the table everyone else stayed frozen. But they all recovered before Pierce did.

‘Goody, I want to be flower girl,’ Abby said in a voice of profound satisfaction. ‘Donald, you’re not allowed to take all the cream.’

‘Cool,’ said Nik, shifting along the bench seat to make room. ‘You want some lunch?’

‘I bet you haven’t eaten.’ Olga rose and moved ponderously to the stove. She was still in her curlers and an amazing oriental housecoat, purple and black shimmering silk with deep pink tassles. ‘There’s still some roast. Or do you want to move straight to apple pie?’

‘Let the boy answer first,’ Blake said, and they fell silent again.

‘I don’t…’ He stared at Shanni. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Wendy said you want to marry me,’ Shanni said. She hadn’t moved into the room. She was standing in the doorway, looking only at Pierce.

In the corner Wendy was waking. She didn’t move, curled into a warm little ball under the feather eiderdown Olga had spread over her. But her eyes were suddenly wary.

‘Wendy says the only reason you won’t ask me to marry you is that you don’t think I want the children,’ Shanni said. ‘But Wendy says she’d look after the kids. She’s offered for them all to go into a care home-but please will we visit.’

There was an almost audible gasp. All eyes moved to Wendy.

‘It’s…it’s true,’ Wendy whispered from the sidelines. ‘The child welfare officers say there’s houses for families as big as ours. We get care workers. And I thought…maybe we could come here at weekends. Sometimes.’

‘How about you stay here?’ Shanni said, suddenly sounding fierce, and blinking a bit. ‘How about if I just move in and we keep on like it is now? Me and Pierce and Olga and Wendy and Donald and Bryce and Abby and Bessy. And anyone else we can think of.’

‘You can’t,’ Pierce managed.

‘Why can’t I?’

‘Your career.’

‘Stuff my career,’ she retorted. But then she grinned. ‘But, in case you hadn’t noticed, this is a tourist district. It’s very, very trendy to come for a Sunday drive and visit art galleries. There are gallery owners in Paddington or The Rocks in Sydney who are moving to the country because they get more clientele that way.’