Ryan’s wails cut through her thoughts. Ahead, Devon peeled Ryan off the ground and hugged him, rubbing his back and murmuring into his ear.
Stella rushed forward. “What happened?”
“He tripped.”
Brushing hair from Ryan’s forehead, Stella said, “Hey, tough guy, you okay?”
“My knee hurts,” cried Ryan.
Devon pried the tiny body away from him. Sure enough, a few drops of blood oozed from a skinned knee.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! I need a bandage!”
“It’s okay—it’s just a little scratch,” Devon soothed.
Stella dropped to her knees and rifled through her backpack. She pulled out a small first aid kit. “Here we are. Let’s get this on and you’ll be good as new.”
Ryan cries intensified until the bandage was intact. Before long, he was bounding along on his own again, his skinned knee forgotten. Stella loved that about children—how easy it was for them to forget.
“I’m thirsty,” Ryan said. “Really, really thirsty.”
Stella almost laughed at Devon’s expression. He was probably reliving the fish incident and petrified of another meltdown. She fished out a water bottle from her bag, untwisted the cap, and held it out to Ryan. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” Devon mouthed in obvious relief.
Ten minutes later, the drink was gone, as well as Ryan’s enthusiasm for the hike. “I’m hungry,” he whined.
Devon turned to Stella, looking drained. “Please tell me you have a snack in that Mary Poppins bag of yours.”
“Of course.” Stella pulled out some black licorice. “But not until you say, ‘Stella Walker is practically perfect in every way.’ ”
“You read my thoughts.” Devon accepted the licorice and offered some to Ryan. Then he took a few for himself. “Do you mind? I could use a little energy boost.”
“Have as much as you want.”
The licorice seemed to keep Ryan happy while the path led them under a timid, drizzling waterfall. It was Stella’s favorite part of the hike. She wanted to carve it out of the mountain and relocate it to her back patio.
Ryan’s little fingers reached out to touch the tumbling drops. Then he leaned forward, trying to catch the water in his mouth.
Devon pulled him back. “Yeah, that’s probably not the best water to drink.”
Five minutes later came the plea, “I need to pee.”
Devon turned back to Stella and winked. “Finally, something I can handle.”
She laughed.
When Ryan complained of being tired ten minutes after that, Devon hefted him to his shoulders. Stella followed behind, admiring his strength and patience. They trudged along for a few more minutes until Devon stopped abruptly. He pointed. “What are those?”
“They’re called stairs.”
“Very funny,” Devon said. “There’s over a hundred of them.”
“I know. It’s the last part of the hike. They’ll take us up to the Katoomba scenic railway.”
“You’re serious.”
“Unless you can fly, up we go,” Stella said, noticing his sweat-soaked t-shirt. “I can carry Ryan for a while if you’d like.”
He shook his head and started forward, mumbling something about her questioning his manhood.
Stella pretended not to hear. “You have to admit this bushwalk is beautiful.”
More grumbling came as he trudged up the stairs.
She tried again. “You’ll thank me for this someday.”
“Hear that, Ryan? Someday we’re going to thank her for getting us tired, thirsty, hungry, and hot, and then making us climb the longest staircase I’ve ever seen.”
Ryan giggled. “Giddy-up, horsey.”
Quickening her steps to get around them, Stella lifted her camera to her face. “Look like you’re having fun.”
Ryan grinned and Devon made a face. A few pictures and over a hundred stairs later, they finally arrived at the top and entered the visitors’ center. Stella held back a chuckle when Devon lowered Ryan to the floor and stood directly under one of the air-conditioning vents, raising his face to the cool air.
“Just so you know, Stella, that was not a short, little hike. Ask Ryan. He’ll agree with me.”
“Did you have fun, Ryan?” Stella asked.
Nodding, Ryan said, “Can we go down the stairs now?”
Stella directed a triumphant look at Devon. “See? Ryan’s fine. He’s not complaining.”
“That’s because he had a horse.”
Stella laughed.
When Devon had finally cooled down, they took a ride on the Katoomba scenic railway. It was short, but with a 50-degree slope, it was also the world’s steepest railway incline, originally used to bring coal and kerosene shale from the mines. Anything involving history always fascinated Stella.
“That wasn’t very long,” said Ryan. “Can we go again?”
Stella clasped his hand and swung it back and forth. “Maybe another day.”
“Okay,” said Devon. “Maybe that was worth the hike. Maybe.”
“Oh, come on, admit it. You loved it all—even the hike.”
Brown eyes met hers, and Devon smiled. “Maybe. But not the stairs. I definitely did not love those.”
During the drive back to Sydney, Stella stopped at an overlook of a rock formation called The Three Sisters. With the Blue Mountains for a backdrop, it was picturesque, and Stella couldn’t resist showing it to Devon.
“Why does he have paint all over him?” Ryan’s voice sounded loud above the prattle of other tourists.
A painted, almost naked Aborigine was sitting on the ground, playing a didgeridoo. Stella hoped the man hadn’t heard Ryan. “That’s the way they dress where he’s from,” she said quietly.
“They don’t brush their hair either?” Ryan studied the man’s tightly curled, black, bushy hair, then took a step forward to get a closer look. “What’s he doing?”
Stella tugged on his hand, hoping to draw him away from the man, but Ryan pulled free and walked over to him. “What’s that?” He pointed to the long, cylindrical, almost cone-shaped instrument the man held.
Stella turned to Devon. “Are you going to just stand there or do something?”
“What do you want me to do? I don’t think Ryan’s offending the guy. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s made a friend.”
Sure enough, Ryan plopped down on the ground next to the man. The Aborigine demonstrated how to blow into the didgeridoo before letting Ryan have a try. Stella cringed and started forward, but Devon’s hand on her harm halted her progress.
“Really? You’re going to let him blow into some stranger’s instrument?” she asked.
“Yep.” Devon smiled, watching as Ryan tried, but failed, to make a sound come out. The man demonstrated again and Ryan gave it another try, blowing harder. A whisper of a sound echoed through the canister and Ryan’s dimple appeared.
Stella rolled her eyes, pulled her camera from her bag and snapped a picture. If Devon was going to let Ryan blow on a filthy wooden instrument, the least she could do was capture the memory. The man smiled at Ryan and offered his hand. Ryan pumped it up and down before bouncing back to Stella. “Did you see? I played it all by myself!”
“You’re brilliant,” Stella said as she led him to the other side of the overlook. Over her shoulder, Stella saw Devon walk up to the Aborigine, nod, and drop a wad of cash in a cup near the man’s side.
It was a simple act but one that left an imprint on Stella’s heart. A scared imprint. She didn’t want to care about Devon any more than she already did. Becoming too attached would be pure stupidity. Things were already complicated enough.
When Devon rejoined them, Stella pushed her concerns aside and pointed out three burnt orange and yellow rock formations situated side by side on the edge of a cliff. They looked like the tops of three melting ice cream cones.
“They’re called The Three Sisters,” Stella explained. “And that bluish haze hovering a
bove the trees in the background is caused by oil from the eucalyptus trees. That’s how the Blue Mountains got their name.”
“It’s beautiful.” Devon scooped up Ryan so he could get a better look.
Stella asked someone to take their picture before they headed back to the car. During the drive back, Ryan fell asleep almost immediately, and Stella wished she could do the same. It had been a long but wonderful day.
As they neared the hotel, reality descended. Another day gone. Now Stella only had a few days left to convince Devon to sign the guardian papers. Could she do it? Would he listen? Would he care?
Devon had been so quiet since they left the overlook. What was he thinking?
“I had fun today,” Stella said.
He glanced in her direction. “Yeah, me too.”
“Thanks for being such a good sport and letting me show you a little more of our country.”
“Thanks for being our tour guide again. You really do have a beautiful and unique home.”
“So do you.”
“You’ve been to America?”
“Once. Lindsay used to go on and on about it. And after hearing all her stories about the time she spent with your family, she convinced me to take a short holiday there a few years ago, right after I’d graduated.”
“You went to Oregon?”
Stella nodded. “And Washington and California. We flew into Seattle and made our way down the coast. My favorite place was Yosemite. I loved all the redwoods.”
“Lindsay went with you?”
“No. Another girlfriend of mine went with me. We called it our final holiday before we started working. Lindsay wanted me to look up your family while I was there and stop by.”
“Did you?”
Stella shook her head. “But we did take a detour through your hometown—so I could tell Lindsay I went there. And she was right. It’s a beautiful place. Do you miss it?”
“I do, but mostly I miss my family. Chicago’s my home now.”
“You like it there?”
“It’s not Oregon, but it’s nice enough. I could do without the frigid winters, though.”
“Why Chicago if it’s so far from your family?”
“I got a job there after college. When I decided to start up my own company, the people I knew and trusted lived there, so it was easier to stay rather than move back home and start over.”
The sun hesitated over the horizon, and Stella wished she could call it back. Time was slipping by too quickly. “Thank you for putting your life on hold for a couple of weeks. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”
“Actually, it’s been surprisingly easy. I’m beginning to think I’m dispensable now.”
“That’s good. Maybe we’ll see you back here at some point then.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Stella could feel his eyes on her. One look and she got all warm and tingly. Weak and pathetic.
Well, it was time for that to end. Time to be strong. For Ryan. With only a few days left until Devon’s flight, it was now or never. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Ryan.”
Silence. The air turned stuffy, even the supposedly fresh air blowing in through the vents. Rubber hitting asphalt and a purring motor suddenly sounded deafening.
Talk, Devon. Say something. Anything. Get mad at me for breaking my promise if you want. Don’t just sit there. That’s worse than anything.
“Stella, we’ve already had that conversation. You promised not to bring it up again.”
“I know, but there are some things you need to know.”
“What things?”
The rearview mirror showed Ryan stirring in his sleep. “Not now. It’s been a long day and we’re almost to your hotel. Do you think your friend Colleen might be able to watch Ryan tomorrow afternoon so we can talk? I’ll even make you a meat pie.”
Devon sighed and returned his attention to the passing scenery. “If she doesn’t have plans, I’m sure she’d love to. I’ll ask.”
Chapter Nine
It was an odd experience to leave Ryan with Colleen and board the train alone. It felt wrong, in a way. Like a part of Devon was missing. He tried to shrug the feeling away and focus on the buildings darting by, but the feeling held tight. In three days Devon would leave Ryan behind, and as much as he hated to admit it, the thought brought an increasing amount of gloom.
He’d miss the kid.
He’d even miss Stella. In an almost infuriating way, she’d wriggled into his thoughts and maybe even his heart. At times she could be so maddening that he wanted to shake her. But then there were those other times, Stella’s charming and endearing times, when she spouted off interesting and random facts, played and talked with Ryan, or made Devon feel . . . what? Encouraged? Inspired? Whatever it was, Devon liked it. He liked her.
Why?
Was it because she lived on the other side of the world? Out of his reach? Was this a case of liking what he couldn’t have?
Maybe.
Or maybe not. Stella was different—the kind of different that made him excited to see her, even though he knew she’d pressure him to become Ryan’s guardian again. He was like a mouse lured to the cheese in a mousetrap. Only worse, because he knew it was a trap. Pitiful.
But Devon would stand his ground. As difficult as it would be to say no and walk away, he knew his life back in Chicago could not incorporate a child—nor a long-distance relationship. For whatever reason, Lindsay had wanted Devon to be part of her son’s life, so he would. He would offer financial support, even promise to visit and call as often as he could. He’d make Ryan a priority in his life.
Just not the chief priority.
Great. Devon hadn’t even talked to Stella and already he felt guilty.
He stepped from the train and slowly walked to her apartment, stopping on her front porch. The door stared at him ominously, but he knocked anyway.
Stella opened the door and her bright blue eyes looked at him beneath the rim of a baseball cap. In her jeans and T-shirt, she looked informal and athletic. Gorgeous.
Devon stifled the urge to turn and run.
“G’day,” she greeted him. “Thanks for coming.”
Yeah. Like a lamb to the slaughter. “Thanks for feeding me.”
“Don’t thank me yet—you may not like what I made.”
“I’m not really picky when I’m starving.”
Stella laughed. “And on that flattering note . . .” She opened the door wider and waved him inside.
Curious to see the place she called home, Devon followed. The apartment was small and simple: tan walls, a blue couch, white kitchen cabinets. It was the patio off the kitchen that drew his attention. With stone pavers and a variety of potted plants and flowers, it felt like a mini oasis. A small table and two cushy chairs made it the perfect place to relax.
“This is nice,” Devon said, walking outside.
“Ta,” she said. “Someday I’ll move somewhere with an actual garden, but for now, this works for me. Do you want to experience my favorite part?”
“Experience?”
“Hold on.” Stella disappeared inside and returned with a small container. “Hold out your hand.”
He obeyed, and she dumped what looked like Kosher salt into his palm. “What’s that?”
“Sugar. Now hold up your hand and don’t move or say anything.” She whistled up to a tree that towered over the patio.
“You’re making me nervous,” Devon said. “Did you just turn me into some sort of bait?”
“Shhhh,” she said.
A small, parrot-type bird flew from the tree and landed on his wrist, pecking at the white crystals. Another bird soon followed. Talk about awesome. “You have trained parrots?”
Stella laughed. “No. They’re wild. And they’re larakeets, not parrots.”
“You’re telling me that wild birds fly from the trees and eat out of your hand?”
“Welcome to Australia.”
“This place keeps getting better and better.”
While they ate, Stella kept the conversation light. She didn’t eat much, but Devon devoured the food. The meat pies were incredible—nothing like the potpies back in the States. He wondered if licking his plate would be too uncouth. “I wish I could take all Australian food back with me.”
“You obviously haven’t tasted Vegemite yet.”
“What’s Vegemite?”
“It’s a spread we put on sandwiches and toast. Something most Americans hate. I have some inside if you want to try it.”
“Bring it on. I haven’t tasted anything here that isn’t great.”
Stella shrugged and went back inside. A few minutes later she handed him a slice of bread with black paste spread across the top. “Bon appétit.”
Devon took a big bite and immediately wished he hadn’t. It reminded him of the time he’d stolen a beef bouillon cube from his mom’s pantry, thinking it was a treat. He’d bit right into it, even chewed it once or twice before realizing it wasn’t candy—at least not a candy he’d eat on purpose. Vegemite had a similar taste, only worse. There were no words for the bitter, salty paste. Disgusting didn’t do it justice.
Not caring if Stella thought him rude, Devon spit it into a napkin. “Okay, I obviously spoke too soon. That stuff is horrible.” He gulped down the rest of his water.
Stella laughed. “You’re definitely American.”
“You really like that stuff?” She couldn’t possibly. It was revolting.
“Yeah.” She started collecting their plates and glasses.
“Here, let me take those,” Devon said, pushing his chair back.
“It’s all right, I got it.” Stella stumbled over Devon’s chair leg and deposited her unfinished meat pie on the front of her shirt.
Devon bit back a laugh. “You should have eaten all your lunch like a good girl.”
Looking like she wanted to throw the plate at him, Stella said, “How nice of you to pin the blame on me. It was your chair I tripped over, after all.”
“Maybe you should have watched where you were going.”
With a glare, Stella said, “I’ll be right back.”
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