He nodded.
‘And I…’ She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘I just went and snapped your head off.’ What had got into her? ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t give it another thought. If I’ve asked too much, then just say.’
‘No,’ she said slowly, thinking of Jason and how his face had grown wistful when she’d described her Christmas plans to him. ‘We don’t have to go over the top, do we?’
Luke collapsed back down beside her, his shoulders slumping. ‘Don’t ask me. Christmas was never a big deal when I was growing up. Mum and Dad weren’t really into it.’
Her heart contracted. They should have made a bigger effort for him.
‘And it was Tammy who took care of all of that stuff when we were married.’
And since her death Luke and Jason hadn’t had Christmas. The thought made her forget her own misery for a moment.
He frowned. ‘From memory, though, it always cost a bomb.’
‘It doesn’t have to. A few decorations, a nice meal…a couple of small gifts.’
‘Yeah? And Jason… He’d like that, you think?’
‘He’ll love it,’ she assured him.
He stared at her for a moment. ‘You really think you can bring Christmas to Candlebark?’
With her background, nothing could be easier. She nodded solemnly. ‘I believe I can.’
His brow suddenly cleared. ‘So you’ll stay for Christmas?’
She found she could even smile. ‘Yes.’
CHAPTER NINE
KEIRA glanced up from the kitchen table when Luke strode in early the following afternoon. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank deeply. She tried not to notice the rippling muscles in his arms, or how strong and tanned he looked.
He gestured. ‘You want one?’ When she shook her head he closed the fridge door. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Deciding on the menu for our Christmas dinner.’
Interest sparked his eyes. ‘Yeah?’
It almost made her smile, this latent excitement of his. She couldn’t begin to thank him for the task he’d assigned her. It had helped take her mind off…other things. Whenever the darkness threatened, she threw herself into planning and list-making till it receded again. Simple.
He leant back against the kitchen cupboards. ‘What have you decided—a seafood buffet?’
She shook her head. No way. Luke and Jason needed a proper traditional Christmas this year. To make up for the last three Christmases. ‘We’re having roast turkey with cranberry sauce, roast vegetables and Brussels sprouts.’ Luke frowned.
She bit her lip. ‘You hate turkey?’ They could have pork or chicken instead.
‘It just sounds like a lot of hard work. I want you to be able to relax on the day too.’
‘You needn’t worry about that. You and Jason will be on vegetable peeling duty.’ She wanted him to see how easy it all was so he could do it again next year.
‘That’s okay, then.’
‘We’ve left it too late to make a Christmas pudding, so dessert will have to be either trifle or pavlova. We can vote on that at dinner tonight.’
‘Sounds as if it’s all coming together.’
‘It is.’
‘Good.’ He took another long pull on his water. ‘Are you busy this afternoon?’
Her ears pricked up. Did he have another task for her? Busy was good! She set her pen down. ‘No.’
‘Then I thought if you were interested we might go through your great-aunt’s house one more time.’
Her stomach contracted.
‘I wanted to show you what I meant about converting the place into that clinic of yours.’
But… Her hands snaked around her waist. That dream…it was dust now, and—
‘You said you’d always planned to open your own clinic one day. There’s absolutely nothing to stop you from going ahead with that plan.’
Her arms loosened. She sat back and considered his words. He was right, of course. There was nothing to prevent her from setting up her own physiotherapy practice in Gunnedah. If that was what she wanted to do.
She’d started to grow fond of the town. Whenever she popped in to do some shopping people smiled at her and made eye contact. Shop assistants and checkout operators always had time for a chat and a laugh. She pursed her lips. The relaxed pace suited her.
Plus, the countryside was pretty. That was an added attraction. Whenever she looked at that view of Luke’s she had to smile, remembering the pride in his eyes and his complete incomprehension that anybody could possibly find it wanting. Frankly, she was starting to come round to his way of thinking. And she had asked him to assign her a project. Turning her great-aunt’s house into her dream clinic fitted the bill perfectly. After all, Christmas would only take her up till Saturday.
‘Okay.’ She leapt to her feet.
He planted his hands on his hips and surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘You’re sure?’
‘You bet.’
Busy was good.
‘This is what I was thinking…’
Keira followed Luke through the front door of her great-aunt’s house and then into the large reception room on the left.
‘This front room here would be your reception area.’
She turned on the spot and nodded. ‘A desk there, with some filing cabinets behind.’ She pointed. ‘Over there would be the waiting area—a few chairs and a small coffee table for magazines.’
‘It’s a large room, so you’d fit all that in no problems.’
He was right.
‘A bonus is this big front window overlooking the park. If for some reason mums or dads have to bring their school-age children with them, the kids could play in the park and their parents would still be able to keep an eye on them from in here.’
Keira could feel herself start to hunch at the mention of children.
‘You could even put a couple of chairs on the veranda with that in mind.’
‘Right.’ She nodded. ‘Good idea.’ Her voice came out strained and high-pitched. She turned away at Luke’s narrowed gaze. ‘It all needs a coat of paint, of course, and new carpet.’
‘Or you could rip this carpet up and polish the existing floorboards.’
She shook her head. ‘Lots of patients will have mobility problems. I’d want a non-slip surface. Water spilt on a carpet will be quickly absorbed, but wet floorboards could prove problematic for someone on crutches.’
He stared at her, admiration evident in those rich brown eyes of his. ‘I’d never have thought about that.’
That admiration threatened to fluster her, so she added curtly, ‘It’s my job to think about it. Which brings me to another issue.’ She led him back outside. ‘I’ll need wheelchair access—a ramp.’
He strode down the front steps and surveyed the veranda, hands on hips and legs planted wide. He paced the length of the front garden, bent down a couple of times to check…something. Keira tried not to notice how utterly masculine he looked, how completely assured and confident, but it tugged at her insides, softened her lower abdomen—and what had been cold warmed and filled with anticipation.
A burst of a child’s laughter killed the warmth in a nanosecond. ‘Mummy! Mummy! Watch this!’
Her head snapped back. Her shoulders drew in hard.
‘You could have a ramp that extended from here—’ Luke gestured to the front gate ‘—leading straight up to the veranda, or…’
From the corner of her eye she saw him move to the right. In the park opposite a group of children played tag—their high, thin voices and laughter made her chest cramp.
‘Or you could have it running parallel from here, if you wanted an easier gradient.’
In the sun, the children’s hair gleamed with good health. One of them started to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ and the others joined in. Her heart beat in time to the pain pounding behind her eyes. Her child should have had the chance to run like that, to sing like that. She should be the one si
tting on this veranda watching her child and—
‘Keira?’
She started when Luke touched her shoulder. The sympathy in his eyes burned acid in her chest. She jerked away, gestured to the imaginary ramp. ‘I’m guessing John will be able to give me good advice about that?’
‘Yep.’
Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled back inside, the children’s laughter, their vitality, mocking her with a useless series of what-could-have-beens.
She hauled in a breath. It wasn’t the children’s fault. And it wasn’t Luke’s fault. He’d been everything that was generous and kind.
It’s not your fault either.
She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t go there.
She crossed into the front bedroom. ‘I’m guessing you thought this would be the consulting room?’
He nodded. ‘Is it big enough?’
‘Plenty.’ She kept her eyes averted from the front window. ‘Desk here.’ She pursed her lips and tried to concentrate. ‘Examination table here, and a couple of chairs there…’ And there would still be loads of room for exercises and whatnot.
It would be the perfect set up. For a clinic. Against her will, her eyes drifted towards the window.
‘If you’re as good as you’ve been saying, Keely…’
She could have hugged him for the teasing, the lightness, and the fact that it had her swinging away from the window. Only she couldn’t hug him. Ever since their kiss down at the river last week, hugging Luke had become a decidedly bad idea. The thought of their bodies pressed up close against each other—his hardness, her softness, his strength seeping into her bones, the magic touch of his hands… She shook her head. Hugging Luke was off-limits. Unless she wanted it to lead to more kissing.
Of course she didn’t want that!
She glanced at him. Or did she? Heat seared her skin when he turned and met her gaze.
She dragged hers away. Stop it! Her hormones had gone haywire. It was probably to be expected given…everything. Heaviness stole over her. That darkness threatened the edges of her vision.
She shrugged off the heaviness and lifted her chin. ‘Oh, I’m as good as I say, Hillier.’
‘Then you’ll eventually have too much work for one person. You’ll need to get in another physiotherapist or two to help cover the workload. That’s why this house is so perfect.’
He led her back out to the corridor and along its length. ‘Bedroom two and bedroom three—’ he flung their doors open as they passed ‘—become consulting rooms two and three.’
She bit her lip. ‘Where am I going to sleep? We are talking home business, aren’t we?’ He didn’t mean for her to rent his room for ever?
The thought unnerved her, and she shot into the second bedroom. And ground to a halt, pressing a hand to her mouth. The first time she’d seen this house she’d thought this room would make the perfect nursery. A cot sitting in the middle of the room on an oriental rug, something soft and pastel on the walls, maybe a wallpaper border of nursery rhyme characters…
That life should have been hers!
‘For the moment you’d sleep in one of these two rooms, but what I was thinking is down the track you’d put an extension on the back of the house. I’ll show you what I mean.’ He took her hand and led her across the corridor, through the dining room and into the kitchen.
The kitchen—the hub of the house. It should ring with laughter and chatter. The same laughter and chatter that had filled the park. She’d imagined baking choc-chip cookies in this kitchen.
‘You’d extend off the back like this.’ He tugged her through the back door and out to the lawn. ‘There’d be a big living/family room here.’
Only she didn’t have a family.
‘And then a couple of bedrooms out this way.’
There should be a swing set there…and a sandpit.
‘A big master bedroom here for you, and another smaller bedroom for your—’
He broke off when she flinched.
‘And a spare bedroom there.’ His voice sounded heavy as lead.
Perspiration broke out on her forehead, but her toes and fingers ached with cold. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d gone as pale as he.
‘I can’t stand it,’ she finally whispered. ‘I know you’re trying to help me see something good in the future, but…I can’t stand it. Bedroom two was supposed to be a nursery.’ She gestured to where she’d imagined the swing set and the sandpit. ‘There were supposed to be birthday parties out here and…’ Her throat closed over for a moment. ‘I can’t stand it, Luke.’ The darkness loomed. ‘I want to go back to Candlebark.’
She turned and strode around the side of the house. She couldn’t bear to enter her great-aunt’s home again, to walk through all its lovely rooms with all its lovely dreams.
That life should have been hers, but it had been snatched away. Why? That single word reverberated through her while she sat in the car and waited for Luke to lock up.
Why?
When he slid behind the driver’s seat, he didn’t start the car up immediately. She gripped her hands together and met his gaze.
His eyes were dark. Those grooves bit deep either side of his mouth. ‘Keira, I’m sorry. I should’ve thought—’
‘No! No, Luke—you were trying to help. I know that. You’ve been a good friend. I’m the one who’s sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’
Pain stretched behind her eyes. For most of the last year she’d eaten good wholesome food, taken all the vitamins her doctor had recommended, avoided caffeine and alcohol. She’d made sure that she’d exercised and that she got a little sun most days—not a lot, just a bit. She’d done all the things that would help her fall pregnant, and all the things that, once pregnant, would nourish her baby. It wasn’t fair that the miscarriage had happened to her!
Anger ripped through her. She tried to cram it down deep inside her. Luke didn’t deserve her anger. ‘Please, Luke, can we just go back to the farm?’
Without another word he started the car and turned it in the direction of Candlebark. She was grateful he didn’t try to make small talk on the journey home. It gave her a chance to concentrate on stifling the anger roaring through her, threatening to flare out of control and scorch all within its path.
She’d endured almost a year of IVF treatment before she’d finally fallen pregnant—endless drugs, endless procedures, nail-biting waits—all for what?
A low growl crouched in her throat. When Luke brought the ute to a halt in its usual spot by the barn, she shoved her door open and tried to leap out. But she’d forgotten to undo her seatbelt. She tugged at it furiously, that growl emerging low and guttural. Luke leaned across and released the catch.
She fell out, stumbled to her knees before lurching to her feet again. Spinning around, she slammed the car door shut and set off towards the house.
‘Keira?’
She stopped to shake an unsteady forefinger at him. ‘I am so angry, Luke, but you don’t deserve to bear the brunt of it.’ She had to get out of his presence before she did something unforgivable. ‘You have been lovely—utterly lovely! I’m not angry with you!’
She kicked at a tuft of grass, and then she moved up to the paling fence and slapped it—hard. Pain shot through her hand and up her arm in a satisfying wave, making it possible to ignore the ache in her chest for a tenth of a second. She clenched her hand to a fist, drew it back…
‘Whoa!’ Before she could punch the fence, Luke’s large, warm hand closed over hers, his other arm going about her waist and lifting her bodily off the ground.
She tried to struggle free. ‘Put me down, Luke. I want to smash something!’
‘I know.’
‘Don’t try and stop me. I—’
‘I’m not.’
She stopped struggling. He was taking her towards the barn. ‘You’re not?’
‘No, but I’m not going to let you break your hand either.’ His voi
ce was grim. ‘I think we’ve both had enough of hospitals for the moment, don’t you?’
Anger hot and untempered rushed through her. ‘I’ll be happy if I never see another hospital as long as I live,’ she bit out.
‘Good.’
He didn’t set her down until they were deep inside the barn. That was when she saw it, hanging from a low beam—a punching bag. She laughed, but her laugh didn’t contain an ounce of mirth.
Intent, she moved towards it, but Luke grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a halt. ‘Put these on first.’ He handed her a set of thin leather gloves. They weren’t boxing gloves, but she didn’t care. She reefed them on and started towards the bag again.
A growl of rage—a sound she hadn’t known she was capable of making—emerged from her throat when Luke pulled her to another halt. ‘What now?’ she all but yelled at him.
‘That bag—it’s heavy. It won’t move much when you punch it. That can be…unsatisfying.’ He held a wooden baseball bat out to her. ‘Try hitting it with this.’
She gritted her teeth and took the bat. ‘Excellent.’
She moved in close to the punching bag, drew the bat back, and then let fly with all her might. It hit with a dull thud, and the force of it vibrated through her arms and into her shoulders, making the bag shudder.
That’s for my stupid body, with its ovary on the blink!
She drew the bat back and took another swing. Thud! It set the bag swaying.
That’s for making me wait almost a year before falling pregnant!
Wind up, swing…thud.
And that’s for making me lose my baby!
She stared at the swaying, juddering punching bag and her legs started to tremble. The anger slid out of her and the bat slipped from her fingers. She backed up to a hay bale and sat, breathing hard.
‘Did you hurt yourself?’
Luke was there, drawing off her gloves. She shook her head. ‘Keira?’
‘The miscarriage.’ She swallowed. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’
‘No.’
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