Barbara Hannay - Expecting Miracle Twins

They ate in silence for several minutes. Eventually, Mattie said, ‘Do you have something interesting planned for today?’

‘I was thinking of taking in a movie.’

‘On a lovely day like this?’

His jaw stuck out as if he didn’t appreciate her implied criticism. ‘I’ve missed six months’ worth of movies. I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you want to come?’

The question was so unexpected that Mattie’s mouth gaped unbecomingly. Her mind whirled. She wanted to ask Jake if Ange was his girlfriend. Or was he a free agent who hooked up with the nearest available woman whenever he was on leave?

She didn’t have anything planned for the day, but if there was even a slim chance that Jake was actually asking her on a date, she should say no.

‘I’m afraid I can’t come today,’ she said quickly and decisively, before she could be tempted to change her mind. ‘I have another appointment.’

If Jake was disappointed he didn’t show it, but after he’d gone Mattie sunk to a new low. She couldn’t believe how restless and just plain miserable she felt. The flat felt hollow and empty and she seemed to rattle around inside it—like a pebble in a tin can.

In a bid to think about something else— anything else besides Jake Devlin—she rang around the local hairdressers until she found one who had a cancellation.

Two and a half hours later, she grinned with delight at her reflection in the salon’s mirror. Chestnut and copper streaks had transformed her mousy hair, and an elegant bob flattered her jawline and gave a nice emphasis to her cheekbones.

She told herself she was doing this as a prepregnancy ego boost. The new image had nothing to do with Jake. But when she got back to the flat, she took a long bath and she changed into her best dark grey trousers and cream silk blouse and she put garnet studs in her ears.

She looked fabulous, but she felt foolish. Wouldn’t Jake wonder why she’d dressed up?

She was still trying to decide if she should change again when she heard the front door open, so she dived into the kitchen and pretended to be busy in the pots and pans cupboard.

Jake came down the hall, then paused in the doorway. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘I think I’m in the wrong flat.’

To Mattie’s eternal embarrassment, she blushed.

‘I guess you’re going out?’ he said. ‘You’re all dressed up.’

‘Yes,’ she lied. As she closed the cupboard door, she hoped he couldn’t see through her fat white fib. ‘I’m meeting a friend for dinner.’

Jake nodded slowly, then said quietly, ‘Have a good evening.’

‘I will. Thanks.’

He was about to head down the hall when he turned back. ‘By the way, Mattie.’

‘Yes?’

‘The new hair looks fabulous.’

She was really mad with herself as she set off on foot down the street. Ever since she’d met Jake she’d lost her grip on her common sense. Now, she’d lied about her plans for this evening and here she was, wandering the streets of Sydney like a lost waif, looking for somewhere to eat. The really silly thing was she’d stocked the refrigerator with the ingredients for a perfectly good supper.

She decided to eat at the first place she found—a café a block away. It was a simple place with bare concrete floors, metal tables and chairs and selections of Asian-style noodles and stir-fries scrawled in chalk on blackboards.

Most of the customers were wearing jeans and T-shirts and Mattie felt distinctly overdressed, but she took a seat and was determined to enjoy herself.

She placed her order and asked for a glass of white wine and all went well for about ten minutes. Then Jake strode in.

MATTIE’S heart began a ridiculous thumping. Jake was dressed in black and his unruly hair was tousled by the wind as he stood at the café’s front counter. Framed by the doorway, shoulders back and feet planted wide apart, he looked unbelievably gorgeous.

She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her, but it could only be a matter of moments before he did, and even if she could come up with a plausible explanation, he’d probably realise that she’d lied about meeting a friend. Talk about embarrassing!

His dark eyes scanned the café and she quickly dropped her gaze, letting her smooth new hairstyle swing forward, hoping that it would hide her face. Perhaps she could pretend she hadn’t seen him.

Within a heartbeat, however, strong, confident footsteps rang out on the concrete floor, and they stopped at Mattie’s table. Holding her breath, she lifted her head and there he was, standing before her.

He looked directly into her eyes and he smiled.

Mattie swallowed. What could she say? It would be pathetic to trot out a feeble excuse about her friend being delayed. Somehow, she just knew that Jake would expose her as a fraud.

While she sat there, feeling silly, Jake held out his hand. ‘How do you do?’ He smiled with effortless charm. ‘I’m Jake Devlin. Do you mind if I join you?’

She expected to see a teasing glint in his eyes but, to her surprise, she could only find genuine warmth. Nevertheless, she hesitated.

‘Come on, say yes,’ Jake urged. ‘Otherwise you’ll force me to try my pick-up lines.’

‘Are they corny?’

‘So bad you could feed them to chickens.’

His confession was accompanied by a lopsided self-deprecating grin that melted Mattie on the spot. She suspected that Jake had seen right through her, but it somehow no longer mattered. He was wiping their slate clean. Starting again. And she was enchanted. Caught. Hook, line and sinker.

‘You’re welcome to sit here, Mr Devlin.’

‘Thank you.’ He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her and happiness fizzed inside Mattie like soda pop.

Following his lead, she held out her hand. ‘How do you do? I’m Matilda Carey.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Jake’s expression was deadpan. ‘Do your friends call you Mattie?’

‘Quite often.’ She gave a little shrug and added rather recklessly, ‘At times they’ve been known to call me Florence Nightingale.’ She didn’t mention the other tag that she hated—Saint Matilda.

‘Is that accurate? Are you a caring type?’

‘’Fraid so.’

The skin around his eyes crinkled and he cocked his head on one side. ‘Let me guess. You’re probably the kind of girl who cares for sick grannies.’

Mattie’s sense of fun faltered. Was he teasing her? Uncertain, she quickly changed the subject. ‘I’ve already ordered. I’m having the chicken noodle soup.’

‘I think I’ll try the beef stir-fry.’ Jake waved to a waitress and, when she came over, he gave his order. ‘And I’ll have a beer.’ Turning to Mattie again, he asked, ‘Would you like another glass of wine?’

She tapped the side of her glass. ‘This is fine.’

When the waitress left, Jake leaned towards Mattie, hands linked on the table top. His smile faded and, with it, all pretence dropped away. ‘Seriously, Mattie, I’ve been thinking about what you did for your grandmother. That was a huge gesture, to spend two years looking after her.’

She took a quick sip of her wine to cover her surprise, then set the glass down.

‘Did it feel like a big sacrifice?’ he asked urgently.

‘Not at all. Those two years were rather lovely. Gran was always so sweet. So grateful for my company. She never complained about her health.’

‘Was she very ill?’

‘She had a weak heart, so she tired easily and she couldn’t take proper care of her house, but I was happy to help.’

‘What do you reckon would have happened if you hadn’t looked after her?’