Wild About Harry (Hearts of the Outback Book 5)

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Wild About Harry (Hearts of the Outback Book 5) Page 15

by Susanne Bellamy


  It was all too late.

  Gramps’ monologue continued. “People power, darling. Phone calls and letters to politicians, especially those in marginal seats turned the tide. Your visual project won’t be needed now we’ve won the battle and the war.”

  “Not needed, but—” Gramps’ words struck her like rapid-fire bullets, thudding into her heart. Her work wasn’t needed; she wasn’t needed—not by Gramps, and not by Harry. She couldn’t stay with Dan and Amy for much longer, but she still hadn’t saved enough for even a half-decent second-hand car.

  “Could you maybe turn your photos into a retrospective of the battle to stop big business?” Gramps sounded worried; he’d understand how disappointed she was so she put a smile on her face. Nana always said you could hear a smile in a voice on the phone and she didn’t want him to hear her disappointment.

  “I’ll think of something, Gramps. Can’t waste all those photos. I even got some aerial shots when I went on a medivac flight with Dan. I’ll show you when I get home.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s not much to keep me out here now.” After she disconnected the call she lay feeling sorry for herself. Everything was a mess because she hadn’t stopped to think things through. She’d done wrong by Harry, hurt him in the worst possible way. At the thought of never seeing sweet little Vicky again, tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and soaked her pillow.

  At last Bri sat up, scrubbing angrily at the tears. Unless she made changes to her nomadic, unplanned life, she was going to end up useless and unnecessary to anyone.

  She rummaged in her bag for paper and pen, wiped a hand over her cheeks one last time, and sat down to begin her list. Item number one: Tell Harry that . . . What? That I love him, and that I want to be part of his and Vicky’s life?

  Actions speak louder than words. Gramps had taught her that. She crossed out the verb and wrote ‘Show Harry I’m responsible and stable’. The question was: how?

  ##

  Harry pulled up in the kindy car park, but he couldn’t make himself get out of his car.

  Bri loves me. Vicky’s statement of belief in Bri ran on a loop in his brain. She was right; he’d seen it in her actions, in the care she’d taken to teach Vicky everything from cooking to having fun. Bri had made today not only bearable, but a lovely reminder of Vicky’s mother. She’d brought laughter back into their lives and love into his home and he couldn’t bear the thought of how sad Vicky would be when she learned Bri wasn’t going to look after her anymore. Dammit, Bri wouldn’t even be popping in to say goodbye. He’d booted her out without giving her a chance. He grimaced; he’d done the same damned thing to her as he’d accused her of doing to him.

  Resting his head on the steering wheel, he closed his eyes. How could he make things right? Bri had probably gone back to her cousin’s home. He pulled out his phone and flicked through to her number. For several heartbeats his thumb hovered over the green button. What could he say?

  Nancy Faulkner tapped on his window. He lowered the window and dredged up a civil smile. “Hi Harry, just wanted to invite you and Vicky—and Bri?—over to our place for a barbeque on Saturday afternoon, four-ish. Bri will be here still, won’t she? I thought Felicity was off for another week or so.”

  “Can I let you know, Nancy? Things are a bit uncertain right now.” That was a lame description for the cockup he’d made.

  “Okay, just call to confirm if you’ll be a two or a three. Not that it matters that much. Jim loves his Webber; he’d put a quarter of a beast on the coals if I let him. You coming in?” She eyed the phone in his hand.

  He turned it off and opened the door. “Yes, I’m coming.” He held the gate open for Nancy and they headed to the fort. One thing about both their children; they were consistent in their play. Vicky slid down the slide. He dropped to one knee and she ran into his arms.

  “Daddy, where’s Bri?”

  “Ah—aren’t you pleased to see me for a change?”

  “Silly Daddy, of course I am. But Bri picks me up every day.” Vicky’s eyes widened. It was the look she got when an idea struck her and she grinned. “I know why Bri isn’t here today. Come on, Daddy, we’ve got to get home fast.”

  Harry’s gut clenched, but it was better to get Vicky away from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. At home he’d find a way to break the news of Bri’s departure gently.

  Vicky prattled on about the dinosaur game she’d played with Fraser. “He wanted to be a T-Rex so I decided I’d be a pterosaur and fly around and buzz him.”

  “Do you mean a pterodactyl?”

  “Ms. Spencer called them pterosaurs. She said they weren’t bird dinosaurs but the first animals to fly. Daddy, can we go down to the dinosaur museum with Bri one day?”

  “We’ll see. Maybe Winton in winter would be better.” But there wouldn’t be a trip to the dinosaur trail with Bri. There wasn’t even a today with her. With a heavy heart, he turned into the driveway and switched off the engine. He took his time coming around to unclip Vicky’s seatbelt and lift her out, but delay only made things worse. He had to tell her, but he had no words. Telling her Bri had left and without saying goodbye would break her heart. He knew that, because his own had cracked, knowing Bri wasn’t inside. He reached in for Vicky’s backpack and turned to hand it to her, but she was halfway up the stairs. “Vicky, wait!”

  He ran up the steps and grabbed the screen door, expecting to hear her calling expectantly for Bri. What he heard was a high-pitched squeal and sounds of clapping. He toed off his boots and walked into the living room. On the coffee table, a birthday cake with pretty pink candles occupied centre stage. Propped behind it was Vicky’s poster and beside it, the last family photo they had taken with Linda.

  “See what Bri’s done. I guessed she was busy with Mummy’s party when you picked me up.”

  Harry shook his head and looked at Bri. She stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her waist, her chin raised. “Yes, I had to finish what I started. I hope this is okay, Harry?”

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “Yes, Pumpkin, beautiful.” Harry didn’t know how or why, but someone up there had taken pity on him and given him—them—a second chance. “You need to wash your hands, and would you like to bring a dolly down to enjoy the party while I talk to Bri?”

  “Okay.” Vicky raced up the stairs.

  Bri stood looking at him. “I hope you’ll accept that I couldn’t leave without finishing this for Vicky. And it wouldn’t be right to go without telling her—something. People who love her shouldn’t just disappear from her life. I had to say goodbye.”

  Harry’s throat choked with emotion—not the negative ones he’d battled for so long, but a new, wonderful feeling of hope and possibilities that he scarcely dared to name. Bri had come back, and this time she’d chosen him and Vicky.

  “You’re right. Thank you for—all this. It means more than you can know to Vicky, and to me. Bri, I tried to phone you—to tell you—look, I’m sorry for what I said this morning. My words were spoken in haste. I don’t want you to go. Please, will you stay on as agreed?”

  Bri pressed her lips together and her gaze flittered across his face. “Until Felicity is recovered?”

  “Until Felicity comes back to work.” Harry had a feeling that Felicity might discover a preference for working elsewhere if he convinced Bri to stay. If he had his way, Felicity would never come back and Bri would stay forever. But they had much to discuss—after the birthday party.

  Bri nodded. “Right. I’ll put the kettle on, unless you fancy pink lemonade?”

  ##

  Bri lifted the cake pan out of the suds as Harry came into the kitchen and sat on a stool at the bench. They needed to talk, but she was reluctant to raise the subject of her rash departure. She rinsed off the pan and set it in the drainer. “Did Vicky go to bed okay? Not too much cake and soft drink?”

  “She’s happy, but sleepy.” He picked
up a cheese cracker and popped it in his mouth.

  Bri rinsed and dried her hands while her nerves stretched drum-tight.

  “Thank you for today.”

  “For the afternoon, not for what I did this morning.” Twisting the hand towel into a tight wad, she gripped it and leaned against the bench. “Do you want to have that talk now?”

  He nodded slowly and replaced the plastic film over the plate of biscuits. “Clearing the air would be a good start. How about we sit on the back veranda with a drink? Brandy?”

  Bri glanced through the window. Night had fallen while Harry put Vicky to bed. Confession would be easier if she couldn’t see his face. “Good idea.”

  She wandered outside and chose a seat in the shadows. Harry followed soon after with two glasses of brandy. As he handed her a glass, his fingers brushed hers, lingering on her knuckles as though he didn’t want to lose the connection before he took the chair next to hers.

  Just one touch—that was all it took and she knew she couldn’t leave him again. How had she got things so wrong with him when they were so right for each other? In most every way except . . . “About last night—”

  “This morning when I said—” Their words overlapped. She waited, straining to see his face, regretting her choice of a dark space when she wanted to see his expression. “After you, Bri.”

  Never before had she felt the importance of choosing her words carefully. Her happiness, her future depended on staying here, with Harry and Vicky, and proving she was reliable and that what she and Harry had might just be something special.

  Worth pursuing, worth fighting for. She took a deep breath and turned to him. “I’ve always jumped in feet first and thought about things later. Being tired didn’t help. Not that that excuses what I did.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but fatigue makes it harder to think straight. We were both tired and emotionally drained after what Mavis did. I reacted badly when you chose your family over us.” The last word was clipped, reminding Bri how much Harry and Vicky were a package deal.

  And Harry was right, of course. That was precisely what she’d done without realising it. But life without both of them in it was unthinkable. “I didn’t see it that way. I thought you’d lied by not telling me about being involved in a new mine. It felt like—”

  “A betrayal?”

  Her stomach clenched as though a lump of lead had landed heavily in it. His soft question revealed how badly she had hurt him.

  He sipped his brandy and then set his glass on the table. “I had no right to expect anything different.”

  “So . . . we’re both capable of making bad choices.”

  “We’re human, Bri. Which means we can also make good choices. You made me see that.”

  “Me? I’m rash and crazy—”

  “And loving and thoughtful. Yes, you say what’s on your mind without thinking sometimes, but your actions prove my point. You showed how much you care about Vicky—and about me—by everything you’ve done since you moved in, but especially what you did today. Coming back after what I said to you, to make things right for Vicky, that took courage.”

  She blinked back sudden tears. “No, Harry. Courage is what you’ve shown every day since Linda was killed. By making a home for Vicky where she feels safe and loved.” God, she loved this man, loved the way he tried so hard to give his daughter what she needed. Maybe one day, if she was very lucky, he might feel the same about her.

  “I’ve tried to make a safe life for her. Until you came, I didn’t realise how much I—controlled everything.”

  “I thought you were very self-contained when you rescued me.” Maybe one day she’d tell him what she thought of Harrison, and how much she enjoyed it when he let Harry take over.

  “I think you mean I was closed off. Don’t start censoring what you say to me, Bri. I value your honesty.” His wry tone gave her the courage to ask a question that had preoccupied her since she’d surprised him in his bedroom.

  “Why don’t you have pictures of your wife in your bedroom?”

  He was silent for several heartbeats and she held her breath. Had she pushed too hard, too fast? “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—”

  “I needed one room where I could . . . not forget exactly. I’ll never forget Linda, but one room without her face reminding me every hour of the day what I’d lost. You’ve given us a precious gift today.”

  “It was just a party.”

  “You helped us to celebrate her life, to remember her with love and without pain. I’d forgotten how to have fun. How to live. You gave that back to us.”

  He stood and a splash of light through the window lit one side of his face as he held out his hand. “Come here.”

  “Why?” She took his hand and stood, hoping, wanting, daring to believe that things could work out for them.

  “Because I can’t go another minute without kissing you.”

  Bri didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him with all the pent-up passion and relief filling her. Harry’s kiss was hungry and urgent as he tugged her shirt out of her shorts. He slid his hands over her skin. “Want to make some more happy memories with me?”

  The screen door squeaked and Vicky poked her head around it. “Daddy?”

  Harry lifted his mouth from Bri’s and looked down at his daughter. He dragged in a breath before speaking. “What’s up, Pumpkin?”

  “Is Bri staying with us tonight?”

  “She sure is. If you ask her nicely, maybe she’ll stay for lots of nights to come.”

  Vicky ran to her father and raised her arms. Harry lifted her and she turned to Bri. “Will you stay with us, Bri. Please stay with us? I love you so much—to the moon and back—and Daddy loves you too.”

  Bri sucked in a breath. Expecting Harry to be embarrassed, she glanced at him and her gaze snagged on his dark, hungry eyes.

  “Vicky’s right. We love you, Bri. Will you share your laughter and joy with us? Will you choose us?”

  Bri’s heart was so full of joy and wonder, it felt as though it would burst. He hadn’t said he loved her. He didn’t have to. His eyes said it for him.

  “That sounds like my kind of job.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Four weeks later – Kindy Christmas party

  Clare Spencer led the applause for two tiny ballerinas in pink tutus as they ran off the stage, hand in hand. “Thank you, Jessica and Jemima. Next up we have Vicky Douglas who is singing a very special song with her father. Please welcome Vicky and her dad, Harry, to the stage.”

  Bri stood in the wings watching, as proud as any kindy mother. Maybe prouder. It was all so new and glorious and wonderful, discovering her heart’s desire was her new family.

  Jim placed a tick against Vicky’s name on his stage manager’s clipboard and nudged her. “Bet it’s another round of Twinkle, Twinkle.”

  Bri kept her poker face in place as she looked at him. “How much?”

  “Five bucks says it’s about a star.”

  “You’re on.” She moved a little closer to the stage to see better. Vicky took her position beside Harry, who strummed a few chords on his guitar before meeting his daughter’s gaze. From her spot next to the stage manager’s table, Bri watched Harry mouth the count in before he played a flurry of quick chords.

  Bri giggled. “I think we’re both right, Jim.”

  “That’s not Twinkle, Twinkle.”

  “Nope, but it’s about the brightest star in Vicky’s world.”

  Vicky’s sweet voice rose on the chorus: “I’m just wild about Harry, and he’s just wild about, cannot live without, he’s just wild about me.” She finished her song, flung her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him. He stood, took her hand and together they bowed to the audience before joining Bri in the wings.

  “That was fabulous, you two.”

  Harry set his guitar on the table and slipped an arm around Bri’s shoulders. “Thanks. Vicky, Ms Spencer is calling you over for the group fina
le.” Vicky grinned before running to take her place beside Fraser at the end of the front row.

  Harry drew Bri out of sight of the group, into the darkness of back stage. He pulled her into an embrace, nuzzled her ear and spoke softly, his breath sending tingles to places best not thought about in public. “Glad you decided to stay until Christmas?”

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  “Fancy sticking around a bit longer?”

  Bri’s eyes fluttered shut. “Mmm, if you promise to do this at least once every day. How long did you have in mind?”

  “I love you, Bri, and I want you in our lives, for more than just now. I thought we’d start with Christmas and go on to forever.” He kissed a path along her jaw, and traced her lower lip with his tongue. “What do you think?”

  “You know I love you and Vicky. Forever sounds perfect to me.” She put her promise for their future into her kiss, pressing hard against him until she didn’t know where he ended and she began. As it should be.

  Dimly she heard the sound of applause, the shuffle of feet, a throat being cleared nearby. She opened one eye and pulled away from Harry’s kiss. “Harry, open your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “We weren’t quite as hidden as we thought.” The curtain behind which they were standing had opened and all eyes—children and adults—were on them instead of the Merry Christmas sign now flashing brightly above their heads.

  A wolf whistle pierced the silence before applause erupted. Jim Faulkner’s voice rose above the clapping. “Looks like she’s wild about Harry too. Onya, mate!”

  A taster for you from:

  Hearts of the Outback- Book One

 

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