Cameron of the Seas

2: Bugs and Ducky-3

IT WAS THE FIFTH OF MAY, the day Duck’s brother, Captain Bryce Mabo Cameron, wedded his beautiful young love, Belle. Each of the six Cameron siblings usually referred to one another by nicknames. It was just too confusing otherwise: they all had the same initials. Duck was really Bernard, but no-one called him that.

Bonita had been on maternity leave, just there to help her godmother Emily, who oversaw catering. Not that anyone outside of her family and close friends knew she had a baby, and only eight weeks before for that matter. She still looked svelte in her white chef’s uniform; her long hair tied in a ponytail covered with a white bandanna to prevent her tresses from getting into the food.

She was surprised when Duck sidled up to her quietly as she was piling spring rolls on a platter, asking if they knew each other from somewhere. She remembered smiling and admitting they’d gone to the same high school. His follow-up question was, ‘So how come I don’t know your name?’

Her response was equally cool and straight-forward.

‘You never spoke to me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Let’s see ... Maybe because you were always surrounded by beautiful girls.’

‘You weren’t one of them?’

‘No, not pretty enough,’ she said. ‘I had buck teeth. And besides, we were in the same high school, but we were not in the same year.’

‘Ah.’

She was a little unnerved with him standing so close, admiring her black-as-charcoal ponytail that simmered in the Queensland sunlight. She felt a tingle run along her spine when, with a finger, he lifted strands of them to watch them fall smoothly down. He smiled, flashing that to-die-for dimple.

‘So, you like cooking?’

‘I do.’ She hoped the short response would be enough to put him off. She continued to pile more spring rolls onto more platters, trying to ignore his efforts.

He was undeterred, ‘Me, too,’ he said.

‘Really?’ she replied, laughing. ‘Well, make yourself useful then and garnish these.’ She handed him a tray of spring rolls.

‘So, what’s your name?’

‘Bonita.’

‘That means beautiful, right?’

‘Uhum,’ she said.

‘Suits you.’

She saw a red light in her head, thinking the Officer and Gentleman was too handsome to be into her. Besides, it had only been nine months since John, her husband, had walked out on her, angered by her decision to keep their child he called the ‘accidental foetus’.

That ‘accidental foetus’ was now a two-month-old infant and John was yet to show himself. The bastard hadn’t even been curious enough to see what his offspring looked like or been interested enough to inquire about her welfare.

She pulled back and excused herself, leaving Duck to wonder why it was that every woman he was ever interested in always seemed to leave in a hurry. Unknown to him, she had left unseen as soon as more helpers arrived, rushing to be with her newborn who needed to nurse at her breast every three hours.

Little Megan was being cared for by her Mum inside a tent nearby.

‘Hey, Mum, how is she?’

‘Just waking up.’

Bonita quickly took her from Filomena’s arms, her breasts threatening to explode, milk production at full capacity. They started to leak as soon as she saw her baby, a mother’s body’s natural reaction to a suckling child.

She ripped away the top of her chef uniform and hastily unclasped the cup of her maternity bra. Relieved, she expelled a series of grateful breaths of joy. She looked down on her love-child, stroked her cheeks and mumbled a thank you to her Mum.

Filomena was from the Philippines. Her Dad, Charlie, was a blond, blue-eyed Australian of Anglo stock. Between them, they produced three mixed-race daughters who all acquired the best features from two bloodlines. They all got their mother’s metabolism and small bone structure. So, while she wasn’t into high impact exercises, she still managed to shrink back into her pre-pregnancy body without too much effort and in so little time.

‘I don’t know why you had to do this,’ Filomena said, worry registering in her voice.

‘Do what?’

‘Help with the catering.’

She looked up, raised her eyebrows at her Mum.

‘‘Cause I’m going loopy staying at home. I’ve been housebound for four months; I’m beginning to lose it. And besides, you know I can’t refuse Ninang Emily.’

‘Fair enough,’ Filomena agreed.

Her Bonny had premature contractions from her seventh month, prompting her obstetrician to recommend bed rest – a lot of it. Her headstrong daughter would normally have pooh-poohed the doctor’s recommendation, labelling it excessive precaution, but she didn’t want to take any chances, not with the baby’s life on the line.

After feeding, Megan had a quick nappy change and warm cuddles. She did an enormous burp, much to her Mummy’s delight. She smiled at her Mum and Grandma and fell asleep again, following a routine she seemed to have developed all on her own. An hour later, Bonita left her slumbering infant with her grandmother to join the land of the adult humans. Throughout the wedding reception, she managed to dodge Duck.

It was also time for her to slip easily back into her post-graduate work on marine biology. She was working on her thesis on the effect of sonar on whales. With a lot of free time on her hands, she’d contacted the Royal Australian Navy the previous week to ask for their help with her research. As far as she was aware, a Mariner was supposed to help tomorrow, the day after the wedding. With that task looming ahead, she avoided thinking any more of the handsome Cameron, until he pursued her all the way.

She stopped reminiscing when she heard Megan. She rose from the stool to attend to her crying toddler, with sharp pain piercing her soul.

*