Man Drought (24 page)

‘Men come into the gallery,’ Jenna continued. ‘They smile and try to flirt with me, and they’re good-looking blokes – the type I’d usually have a thing for – but I feel nothing. At all. It’s really quite scary.’

‘So what are you doing about it?’

‘I’m coming up on Friday. The weekdays are long, but at least Guy isn’t
that
far away. It’s not a long-term solution though; we’re going to talk about our future this weekend.’

The future?
Already? Imogen and Amy had all but given up on Jenna ever settling down with anyone. ‘That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see you. I’ll get the spare room made up,’ Imogen said, excited at the prospect of catching up with her friend so soon. Hanging out with Jenna would also help distract her from other
things, like Gibson admitting that he hadn’t
wanted
to sleep with her but couldn’t
help
himself.

‘Uh … do you mind if I don’t stay with you?’ Jenna asked. ‘We’ve kind of got plans.’

Imogen tried to keep the hurt from her voice. ‘Of course not. We’ll do lunch or something.’

‘Definitely.’

Imogen recognised that Jenna was so caught up in the bliss of new love she wouldn’t recognise another’s pain, and she felt upset at herself for feeling it anyway. Wasn’t this what she and Amy had always wanted for Jenna? To find what they both had in their marriages? And, despite his childish bet, Guy was a nice bloke.

‘Now, what’s this I hear about you and the divine Gibson Black? What’s happening?’ Jenna asked, bursting into Imogen’s thoughts.

Her pulse skipped a beat. Technically, nothing was happening. Not anymore.

‘Nothing, we’re just friends,’ Imogen said, because it was the truth. ‘We went for a run together this morning.’ No one in the world was less likely to judge her for having a quickie in a ute than Jenna. But the truth was, she still didn’t know how she felt, and she didn’t need any more encouragement to go back for more.

‘That’s not what Guy reckons.’

Imogen told Jenna about Gibson borrowing Charlie’s clothes and how Guy and Warren had driven by at exactly the wrong moment. She left out the bit about the bet, but couldn’t help the giggles that came with just thinking about Gibson struggling in Charlie’s clothes – she hadn’t laughed that hard in a very long time.

Jenna laughed too, but only half-heartedly.

‘I think it’s one of those had-to-be-there moments,’ Imogen said, biting her lip to try and quell her amusement. ‘Anyway, how’s Amy going? Have you seen much of little Gibson?’ she asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the other Gibson.

‘Oh yeah, he’s so cute.’ Imogen could hear the smile in Jenna’s voice. ‘Did Amy tell you she and Ryan are coming up this weekend too?’

‘No.’

‘Oh shit, maybe it was supposed to be a surprise, but Ryan’s really excited,’ Jenna explained. ‘It’s his last weekend before he goes back to work and Amy says he’s driving her mad with talking about seeing Gibson’s farm.’

Why did every conversation have to lead back to Gibson? As a shiver slid down her spine, Imogen forced that thought out of her head and chatted with Jenna for another five minutes, making plans for the weekend and thrashing through some more ideas for Man Drought. Perhaps it was a good thing Jenna was now partnered off. It meant she might be more actual help on the weekend and less likely to be distracted by the men on offer.

If there were ever a lovesick puppy contest in Gibson’s Find, Guy would take out the gold, silver and bronze.

On Friday night, he rolled into the pub a good hour earlier than usual, ordered a beer and perched himself on a chair as near to the entrance as possible. Imogen tried to make conversation with him at first, and then Cal gave it a go, but for all the response they received, they may as well have been talking with the local livestock. From his vantage point by one of the wide front windows, Guy could see right up the main street, and Imogen knew exactly what (or rather whom) he was watching for. She couldn’t wait to see her friends either.

It had only been a few weeks since she’d sat at Amy’s bedside in the hospital, gaping down at that precious baby, but it felt like a century. So much had happened since then, and her life in Perth felt like an alternate reality. She hadn’t shopped in a supermarket or a speciality store since coming to Gibson’s Find, and the strangest
thing was she didn’t even miss it. Until Jamie had died, she’d always thought she enjoyed working at the wine bar, but she didn’t miss that either. Being out here in the bush, running her own business, making a new life all felt so right. But it also added to the guilt.

How could she be so settled, so at peace, with Jamie no longer a part of her life?

‘What’s a guy have to do to get a drink round here?’

Imogen startled at the voice. Her stomach tumbled and she had to catch her breath. Somehow her new
friend
had slipped into the pub without her noticing. She forced a breath through her lungs as she turned to smile at him.

As if reading her mind, Gibson said, ‘I came in the back door with Charlie.’

Briefly distracted from Amy and Jenna’s imminent arrival, she asked, ‘How is he?’

They’d both tried to get him to relax since the night of the dinner, and Imogen even suggested he cut back on his hours, work fewer late nights. But stubborn as anything, he’d adamantly refused. Everyone was walking on eggshells around the old man, who’d now made too many mistakes for it to be coincidence. The problem was, without coming straight out and telling him they were worried about his memory – which Gibson didn’t want to do for fear of upsetting him – they couldn’t push the point. He’d been unable to get through to his doctor friend yet, but after both Cal and Karen questioned Charlie’s forgetfulness, Gibson had agreed to Imogen discussing the matter with the other employees. They were all now keeping an extra eye out for any issues.

‘Yeah, great, it seems. And I’ve decided to take him to the football next Sunday afternoon. Will you be okay without him?’

Imogen nodded as she got Gibson a schooner of his favourite brew – sadly, the day would probably be easier and less stressful without him. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. He’ll love it.’

He closed his fingers around the glass and took a long sip. ‘When are your friends arriving?’

‘Any minute.’ She snuck another glance towards the door and nodded towards Guy. ‘Your mate’s set up a vigil.’

Gibson chuckled, but it was only half-hearted. ‘Good for him.’

Imogen raised one eyebrow at his distracted statement. ‘What’s up?’ she asked, filling some bowls with pretzels and nuts.

‘I finally spoke to my friend about Charlie.’

Imogen paused in her task and looked up, waiting for more. ‘And?’ She always had to work so hard to pry any information out of him.

Gibson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Daniel thinks I should talk to my parents, and that we should confront Charlie together about him having preliminary dementia tests. Apparently, they can be done by a GP, and then if anything shows up, he’ll be referred to a gerontologist for a full assessment.’ He screwed up his face. ‘But how can I do that to him? I saw how upset he got when Mum suggested he move into a place where he would be looked after, one of those “communities”.’

Although he kept his voice down, Gibson became more and more agitated. He was letting down his guard, showing emotion he’d previously kept under lock and key. Instinctively, she wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand; better still, trek round the bar and hug him tight … just a friendly embrace for support and encouragement, the kind she’d give Jenna or Amy if they needed it. But her mind filled with images of the peck on the cheek last Monday night and she didn’t trust herself to do either.

She opened her mouth, choosing to offer comfort in words when a shout sounded from the front of the pub.

‘She’s here!’

Imogen and Gibson’s attention was jolted towards the door at Guy’s excited announcement. She saw the look on the man’s face
– total adoration – and in that second she knew that Jenna had found the guy she’d spend her life with. Or at least as long as fate allowed. Her heart squeezed at the thought.

Jenna stepped up onto the verandah and dropped her bags, running towards her new man.

‘Aren’t you going to go over?’ Gibson took another long sip of his beer as Jenna flung her arms around Guy. Amy and Ryan entered the pub behind her, Ryan pushing a mammoth pram-shaped obstruction.

Imogen shook herself, rubbing her arms to get rid of the goosebumps. ‘Yes. Of course. Back in a moment,’ she called to Cal and Charlie as she headed around the bar towards her friends. The three of them huddled in the middle of the room as if this were the first time they’d seen each other in decades. Jenna let go of Guy long enough to embrace Imogen tightly. She pulled back and looked into Imogen’s eyes, scrutinising her.

‘You used it?’ Jenna hissed.

Imogen was momentarily confused. ‘What?’ Then she realised.
The vibrator
. ‘No! Shh. Later.’ She flushed bright red. It had been ages since she and Gibson had slept together – even if she still thought about it on a regular basis – but Jenna had always been expert at picking these things. For once, she wished her friend had also been schooled in the ways of tact.

Slipping out of the huddle, Imogen turned to get a look into the top-of-the-range pram. ‘How is he? When do I get a cuddle?’

‘As soon as I’ve fed him,’ Amy assured her. ‘He’s been fretting the last half hour but Jenna didn’t want to stop.’

Imogen peered down at little Gibson. He looked up at her, wide-eyed but placid. He didn’t appear to be fretting, but what did she know about babies?

‘Okay, good.’ She stepped back so Ryan could ease the pram further into the building. ‘Do you want to go somewhere quieter
to feed him? There’s the office or my apartment, if you’d be more comfortable there.’

‘Thanks, that’d be great.’ Amy leaned over the pram and scooped her little man up in her arms. The smile she gave the baby before resting his down-covered head upon her shoulder was akin to the one Guy had given Jenna.

Imogen was happy for her friends and all their glee, she really was, but she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for herself.

‘Will you be okay without me, hon?’ Ryan asked Amy as he glanced towards the bar.

‘Sure.’ Amy smiled. ‘You go chat with Gibson.’

Chat with Gibson!
The directive sounded so natural, as if Amy and Ryan had known Gibson their whole lives.

Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped kisses on his baby and his wife and then made for the bar.

‘I’ll stay with Guy, if you don’t mind,’ Jenna said.

Hell, you’re already sitting on his lap!

‘Enjoy yourself.’ Amy wiggled her eyebrows at Jenna and shifted Gibson a little in her arms.

Jenna leaned into Guy’s chest and toyed with the buttons of his shirt. ‘Oh, I
will
.’ Her words positively dripped with wicked intent and, if it were possible, Guy’s goofy grin stretched a little further.

‘Yeah, have fun.’ Imogen forced a smile to show she meant it. Then she grabbed the rail of the pram and wove through the tables to the back of the pub. She glanced at Gibson as she passed, that strange twisting feeling grabbing hold inside her again as she watched Ryan land on the stool beside him. Perhaps it was because Ryan and Jamie had been best friends, and it felt weird to have her husband’s mate socialising with the man she’d had a fling with. Well, perhaps fling was a bit of an overstatement, but would Ryan be so keen to ‘buy’ Gibson a drink if he knew what she’d done with him?

Her heart beat fast, so fast she swore she could hear it thrashing in her ears, as she worried Gibson would let something slip.

‘Isn’t that a turn-up for the books,’ Amy said when they entered the corridor that led to the landlord’s residence. ‘Jenna smitten.’

‘Um, yeah …’ Imogen parked the pram at the bottom of the stairs and removed the enormous nappy bag which hung over the rail. She winced as she hooked it on her shoulder – what did babies have that was so damn heavy?

‘I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t just seen that greeting with my own eyes.’ Amy giggled. ‘For a second there, I thought you were going to tell them to hire a room.’

‘Really? Did I look that put out?’ Imogen paused before launching up the stairs.

‘I thought you were going to hit someone.’

‘Sorry.’ Sharp shots of pain stabbed into Imogen’s forehead. ‘I’m really happy for Jenna, and I’m so excited you guys are here, but I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.’ She slipped the key from the chain that hung around her neck and unlocked the door.

Once inside, Imogen relieved herself of the bag and gestured for her friend to park herself on the couch.

Amy said, ‘Some people thought we were crazy coming this far with a newborn baby – especially when he was premmie – but the doctor said he was fine to travel and I wanted to see you. I know you’re busy thinking about the Man Drought weekend, but you’d let me know if there was anything more the matter, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes. I would, but I’m fine, honestly.’ Imogen smiled at her friend and forced a natural breath through her lungs. Maybe she should just tell Amy and Jenna the truth about Gibson, because right now keeping such a big secret from her best friends was eating a chunk inside her. Maybe later … when they were all together.

Amy sunk onto the couch. Then, like she’d been doing it her whole life, she leaned back, flipped up her top, unhooked the front
of her maternity bra and manoeuvred baby Gibson into feeding position. She watched for a couple of minutes, mesmerised by the tiny sucking sounds.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Imogen finally asked. ‘I’ve heard breastfeeding makes you really thirsty.’

‘You’ve no idea,’ Amy snorted, absentmindedly stroking little Gibson’s head as he suckled hard.

No, I don’t, and I never will.
Of course, Imogen forced a smile and went to fetch a glass of iced water. Amy hadn’t meant to hurt with her comment.

When she returned, Amy was swapping the baby to the other breast. Imogen handed her the water and watched as she gulped it down. ‘How long does he take to feed?’

‘Not long, only about five minutes on each side,’ Amy told her, leaning over to put the empty glass on the table. ‘Apparently, that’s quick for newborns. Guess he takes after his dad.’

They both laughed.

When Amy’s baby fell asleep at her breast, she looked up at Imogen. ‘Would you like to change him before we go downstairs?’

Something squeezed around Imogen’s heart. ‘Yes please.’ Most people wouldn’t rush to change someone else’s baby’s dirty nappy, but Imogen wanted to be as much a part of this child’s life as possible. She’d probably never experience breastfeeding herself, never snuggle a child and know it had grown from almost nothing in her womb, but she would jump at anything Amy let her share.

Amy handed Gibson to Imogen and took everything she needed from the nappy bag: wipes, a new nappy, a tiny plastic bag, rash cream. They laid the little guy on a clean towel on the couch and Imogen carefully peeled back the two sticky strips on the nappy.

‘He’s so tiny,’ she exclaimed, feeling as if Gibson’s little legs might break as she slid the old nappy out from under him.

‘He’s grown a lot already,’ Amy stated, then added, ‘Be careful, he can be lethal with that thing.’

Only just in time did Imogen realise what her friend meant. Her reflexes quick, she had the new nappy up and over him just in time to save her uniform from getting squirted. ‘I guess we need another nappy now,’ she said when he’d finished.

Laughing, Amy retrieved one and handed it to Imogen.

‘So that’s why that bag’s so heavy,’ Imogen said, still giggling. ‘Reinforcements.’

‘Exactly,’ Amy replied, gazing down at her little boy.

‘Take two.’ Imogen put a new nappy on Gibson and scooped up the bundle of sweet-swelling baby, clutching him close against her chest and sniffing his hair. He was warm and soft and snuggly in her arms. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with him and cherish his tinyness, but Amy was eager to get back downstairs to Ryan, and Imogen had a pub to run.

‘Can I take him down?’ Imogen asked, not wanting to give him back just yet.

‘Sure.’ Amy nodded. ‘He won’t feed again for another few hours, so I might even be naughty and have a little drink.’

As they left the apartment, Imogen descended the stairs as if she were carrying the heir to a throne. Cal stopped her at the edge of the bar for a look, and even Pauli – who had never given the impression of having a maternal bone in her body – did her share of oohing and ahhing.

‘I could just eat him up,’ Cal said, leaning close and stroking the baby’s cheeks. ‘Nom nom.’

Pauli laughed dryly and poked Cal in the side. ‘You could eat almost anything.’

Finally, one of the patrons, a local farmer who was very rough around the edges but whom Imogen had learnt was all bark and no bite, hollered, ‘A bloke could die of thirst in this pub.’

Cal rolled her eyes and went to serve him, Pauli returned to the kitchen, and for the first time since coming downstairs, Imogen looked past the baby in her arms and saw Gibson. He’d migrated from his usual stool by the bar to a table in the corner where he sat, seemingly quite at ease, in the company of Guy, Jenna and Ryan.

Gibson wasn’t alone for long after Imogen went to meet her friends. Charlie ambled over and offered him another drink and even before his grandfather had rid the bottle of its top, Ryan was perched on the stool alongside him.