Page 102 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Twenty-Four

‘Lachy will be so disappointed he missed this,’ Reggie lamented as she dumped her handbag on the kitchen table and looked down at her copy of the twenty-week ultrasound picture.

At her great-granddaughter.

Rowena nodded. He’d been reluctant to go to Dubbo today but there’d been an important meeting with a delegation of stakeholders involving the possible injection of some serious cash into the local agribusiness sector. It had already been rescheduled twice, and a lot of financial decisions across the community hinged on its success.

So she’d urged him to go, knowing he’d be back in Acacia Junction in time for the scan. Then a collision had closed the highway and everything went pear shaped.

He’d been annoyed and frustrated on the phone, clinging to the hope the delay would be minimal and he’d still be able to make it. When it became clear there were fatalities, however, those hopes had faded.

He was on his way again now but had missed the appointment.

Rowena had tried to reschedule the scan. Unfortunately the next available timeslot had been in three weeks and, now that she wasn’t walking around with her fingers in her ears chanting lalalala, the midwife had kicked in. She’d needed to know everything was alright with the baby.

Lachlan had understood without her even having to articulate any of it and had immediately suggested she invite Reggie along. It had been a genius move. Reggie was exactly the kind of no-fuss, no-nonsense, pragmatic country woman to have by her side should things not be good.

Thankfully everything had been perfect and Reggie’s excitement at being present, at seeing her grandson’s daughter squiggling around on the screen, at hearing the staccato beat of her heart, had made up for Lachlan’s absence. Reggie had glowed all the way home, staring at the image, and Rowena was thrilled to have shared the special experience with her.

The sonographer had also sent Lachlan a file of digital images and a brief video of the heartbeat to his phone so, although he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t missed out completely.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Rowena watched as the older woman compared today’s ultrasound image with the one on the fridge that had been snapped at fourteen weeks. Rowena often came across Reggie staring at the earlier image, and she was extra glad that Reggie had been present today, to flesh out the 2D image with a 3D memory.

‘She has my nose,’ Reggie declared eventually.

Rowena smiled indulgently. ‘I thought so, too.’

Reggie laughed then affixed the new image next to the old one on the fridge door with a sheep magnet that proclaimed, I turn grass into wool, what’s your superpower?

‘Cup of tea, darl?’

Despite the cessation of her nausea, Rowena still hadn’t been able to drink coffee. It was the weirdest thing but, after being so slavishly devoted for years, she just wasn’t remotely interested in consuming it anymore.

She sure as hell hoped that didn’t last.

‘No, thanks. I think I’m going to go out to the bunkhouse and finally have that deck bath.’

‘Oh, lovely.’ Reggie smiled. ‘It’s the perfect afternoon for it.’

Rising, Rowena walked towards Reggie. ‘Thank you for coming with me today, I really appreciate it.’

A sheen of moisture clouded the older woman’s eyes before Rowena grabbed her into a quick and fierce hug. Reggie felt surprisingly small beneath that baggy t-shirt.

‘Have you lost weight?’

‘Pfft.’ Reggie made a dismissive noise through her teeth. ‘Chance would be a fine thing with these big old bones.’

The kettle whistled on the hob and Reggie broke away, as vigorous as ever, fussing around with tea leaves and china cups, and Rowena said, ‘I’ll see you later,’ as she headed for her room.

She was almost out the door when Reggie’s quiet, ‘Rowena,’ stopped her.

There was something in Reggie’s tone that put an itch up Rowena’s spine and she turned to face the older woman. ‘Yes.’

‘I know this is none of my business and you have every right to tell me to butt out, but …’

Reggie shifted from one foot to the other, clearly discomforted but grimly determined.

Oh dear god … was she going to ask about what was happening between her and Lachlan? She and Albert had obviously caught on to the night-time musical beds, but being questioned by Lachlan’s eighty-two-year-old grandmother—no matter how groovy she was—would be bloody awkward.