A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle. Barbara Hannay

bursting, Gus watched as Nick took the ball once more and passed it on neatly and deftly, a split second before he was tackled to the ground.

      Gus elbowed Freya’s arm. ‘You didn’t tell me he was terrific.’

      Her mouth pulled out of shape, halfway between a happy grin and heartbreak.

      And suddenly Gus felt as if he’d swallowed the damn football. He looked away, staring into the canopy of one of the ancient trees as he willed his emotions into some kind of order. Once the game was over, he would meet Nick and he’d have to play it cool.

      But it was such a massive thing to know that this wonderful kid was his child. He was flooded by a rush of emotion—of responsibility, of happiness and pride—and all of it tangled with fear and the weight of loss for all the years he’d been deprived of this pleasure.

       If I’d seen him in the street I would have walked straight past and totally ignored him.

      Knowing made such a difference.

      But there was so much more he wanted to know. How could he and Nick possibly bridge all their missing years?

      Freya thought she might burst with the tension.

      She’d hoped that viewing the game from the sidelines would be an easier induction for Gus, giving him the chance to take a good long look at Nick before he had to cope with introductions. But she wasn’t finding it easy at all. With each minute that passed, she was more on edge.

      She’d watched Nick play football many times, but she usually chatted with other mums and paid only fleeting attention to what was happening on the field. Today, she couldn’t drag her eyes from her boy, kept trying to see him though Gus’s eyes.

      She knew she was hopelessly biased, but Nick was gorgeous, with his lovely dark hair and beautiful, soulful, intelligent grey eyes. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Gus to be seeing his son for the first time.

      She remembered her own introduction to Nick. All those years ago.

      With Poppy at her side as her birthing coach, there’d been gentle music playing in the background and the scents of lavender aromatherapy candles. Poppy had helped Freya to breathe through her contractions and, although the whole process was hard work, Nick’s arrival had been a calm and beautiful experience.

      And he was perfect. Eight and a half pounds, with lovely dark hair, sturdy limbs and great energetic lungs.

      It was only later, after Poppy and the midwife left Freya alone to rest, that she’d allowed herself to cry.

      She’d cried for Gus.

      And she’d cried oceans. She’d missed him so terribly, and she’d longed for him to see their baby. She’d cried and cried so hard and for so long that the nurse had called the doctor, who’d come hurrying back, and he’d been worried and wanted to prescribe a sedative.

      Freya had been breastfeeding and she was sure a sedative couldn’t be good for her baby, so she’d rallied. From her first days as a mother, she’d always put Nick’s needs first.

      But, because she’d managed just fine without ever meeting her dad, she’d convinced herself that her son could manage without a father. She’d told herself that she would unite the boy and his dad once Nick was old enough to understand…but by then Gus had been in the depths of Africa.

      Freya was so wrapped in her worries she hadn’t even realised that the game was over until she saw the boys on the field shaking hands and reaching for water bottles. It was obvious from their body language that the Sugar Bay team had lost.

      She glanced quickly at Gus. His body language spoke volumes too. He was so tense he was practically standing to attention.

      Out on the field, Nick’s coach, Mel Crane, was giving the boy a pat on the back. Nick turned and saw Freya and he grinned and waved, called to his team-mates, then began to jog across the field towards her.

      Nick was halfway to them before he saw Gus and his pace slowed. By contrast, Freya’s heart began to canter. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down, and she stifled a longing to reach for Gus’s hand. How crazy would that be? Gus was here to help Nick, and for no other reason.

      She mustn’t give the impression that she needed him too. And she certainly mustn’t send Nick mixed messages about her relationship with his father. There must be no confusion.

      Beside her, Gus dipped his head and spoke close to her ear. ‘I’ll take my cues from you.’

      She nodded and pinned on a smile. Always assuming I know how to handle this. Problem was, etiquette advice didn’t cover this kind of introduction.

      Nick didn’t run into Freya’s arms as he might have done a few years ago, but he let her kiss him. He smelled hot and dusty and sweaty and she relished the smell—the scent of a normal, healthy eleven-year-old footballer.

      ‘You were fantastic,’ she told him, as she told him after every game. ‘And you’ll beat them next time, for sure.’

      Nick accepted this with a smiling shrug. Then he shot a curious glance at Gus.

      Freya jumped in quickly. ‘Nick, this is Gus Wilder. He’s come back from Darwin with me.’

      Nick’s dark eyes widened and a mixture of tension and curiosity crept into his face. ‘Hi,’ he said.

      ‘How do you do, Nick?’ Gus’s deep voice held exactly the right note of friendly warmth. He held out his hand and Freya’s heart tumbled as her son and his father exchanged a manly handshake.

      ‘You made some great plays out there,’ Gus said.

      ‘Thanks.’ Nick grinned, clearly warmed by the praise. He looked at Freya, his eyes flashing questions. Dropping his voice, he asked, ‘Is Mr Wilder—’

      ‘You can call him Gus, Nick. He’s a friend.’ Conscious of the people milling around them, Freya chose her words carefully. ‘He’s hoping to be a good match for you.’

      ‘Really?’ Nick’s grin widened and this time when he looked at Gus, his eyes absolutely glowed. ‘Wow!’

      Gus’s eyes glowed too as he cracked a shaky smile.

      ‘So how did you find—’

      ‘Hey, Gus, is that you?’ a voice called from behind them. ‘Gus Wilder?’

      Mel Crane, the football coach, was an old classmate from Sugar Bay High and he grinned madly and slapped a beefy hand on Gus’s shoulder. ‘Thought it was you. Good to see you, mate.’

      ‘Mel, how are you?’

      ‘Not bad. Not bad. What brings you back to the Bay? Are you here for long?’

      Gus’s smile was guarded. ‘Just a short trip.’

      Mel Crane’s pale blue eyes flickered with keen interest, and Freya’s anxiety levels began to climb. As Nick’s coach, Mel was one of the few people in the Bay who knew about the boy’s condition. He also knew that Freya and Gus had once been an item.

      It wouldn’t be long before he put two and two together.

      ‘Young Nick played a terrific game today.’ Mel ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘But you know, Nick, Gus here was a great footballer.’ He gave Gus another hearty thump on the shoulder. ‘Lucky for me, he was also good at maths. He used to let me copy his homework.’

      Nick laughed and Freya could see that his admiration for Gus was rapidly escalating to hero worship.

      ‘How do you know my mum and my coach?’ Nick asked Gus. ‘Did you used to live here?’

      ‘Ages ago,’ Gus said, carefully avoiding Freya’s eyes. ‘But I only lived here for a couple of years. Last two years of high school.’

      Stepping in quickly before too many memories were laid bare,