by Valerie Parv
Suddenly she knew what she was going to tell Angus Hollander. He could take his offer and...produce his own magazine if he wanted to. She would simply make hers better to ride out the competition, she resolved. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be more satisfying than selling out her vision.
She smiled at her boss, feeling light of heart for the first time since leaving Nicholas. “Thanks, Stella.”
The older woman looked mystified. “Whatever it was I said...you’re welcome.”
The rest of the day passed in a whirl of activity as Bethany tried to entertain the babies while keeping them clean, fed and out of the way of the tradespeople. She had put the last of the children to bed in an improvised dormitory, since the regular bedrooms were off-limits for the time being. She was shaking plaster dust out of her hair when Stella stuck her head around the door. “I’ll take over here until the night nurse arrives. You have a visitor, Bethany.”
“It had better be Sam,” she muttered. At least he would understand why she looked as if she needed shelter rather than working in one. The parts of her that weren’t gritty with renovation debris were splattered- with baby food. Fortunately, her apron had suffered the worst of the damage so she removed it and hung it behind a door, then raked her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tidy it.
Her heart almost stopped as she recognized the tall, masculine figure prowling around the entrance hall, dodging painters’ equipment. “Nicholas, what are you doing here?”
The corners of his mouth tilted upward as he took in her bedraggled appearance. “I’m fine, thanks. It’s good to see you, too. You look wonderful.”
She tried to resist, but his presence lifted her spirits to dizzying heights. She felt instantly more alive and more aware of her appearance. Until he arrived, it hadn’t troubled her nearly as much. “I doubt it. I look like something the cat dragged in.”
His eyes never left her face. She wondered fleetingly if he even noticed the rest of her appearance. “The cat can drag you into my place anytime.”
Cotton wool filled her throat. “What do you want?” Then another thought seized her. “Is Maree all right?”
“She’s fine. I left her in Georgina’s capable hands while I came to see you. I’m taking you out to dinner.”
Cinderella’s finery wouldn’t have prepared her to go to dinner with him. She had barely started coming to terms with a future without him in it. A dinner date would undo the slight progress she’d managed to make. She took refuge in her looks. “I can’t go out looking like this.”
“You look fine. Your boss told me you should have gone home half an hour ago, so get your things and let’s go.”
“Go where? Why?”
He finally noticed that paint flakes weren’t a normal part of her outfit, but he took it in his stride. “We’ll go somewhere where you don’t have to dress up. We need to talk.”
Knowing how much she loved him, talk was way down the list of things she wanted from him but it was far and away the safest. Since he wasn’t taking no for an answer, she fetched her handbag and disappeared into the ladies’ room to tidy up as best she could.
He had retreated to the street by the time she emerged, and she couldn’t help feeling a warm glow at the appreciation in his gaze as she came down the steps. Most of the paint flakes had shaken off her practical navy skirt and buttermilk lace blouse, and a quick brush had restored some of the gloss to her tangled curls. A quick dash of long-wearing lipstick, the kind which didn’t come off when you were kissed, she noted wryly, and she was ready, outwardly at least. Inwardly was another matter. She felt as if two opposing armies had set up camp in her stomach and were preparing to do battle.
In contrast, Nicholas looked infuriatingly confident and in control. He smiled, and her heart turned over. “Ready?”
“Depends what for.”
“Dinner, talk, exactly what I promised you.”
She shook off a sense of disappointment. Whatever had brought him here wasn’t going to change their situation. Better to think of this evening as a gift, another memory to store away against the lonely times ahead.
Williamstown was a sleepy seaport, once destined to be the heart of Melbourne, but now a tourist haunt at the mouth of the Yarra River across the majestic West Gate Bridge. With its iron-lace-clad houses, tree-lined streets, wharfs and piers, it still looked the way the rest of Melbourne had looked a hundred years ago.
The shelter was located a short way from the tourist streets of Nelson Place and the Strand, and Nicholas led her toward them. Along the waterfront promenade were any number of restaurants, coffee shops and pubs where dress rules tended to stop at shoes and a shirt. She began to worry less about how she was dressed and more about what she could possibly say to Nicholas without giving herself away.
Knowing she loved him made it harder than ever to keep up the fiction of being too ambitious to settle down. She only hoped he had some other problem on his mind.
He took her to a café called Settlers. Inside, it had a warm, old-fashioned feel with lace curtains, an open log fire for the winter, and memorabilia from the 1850s adorning the walls. She followed Nicholas through the main room to a leafy courtyard opening off one side with private tables overlooking the sea.
When they had dealt with the menu, she gave him a troubled look. “What’s this all about?”
“First, tell me how you got on with Angus Hollander,” he prompted.
She was glad to be served their first course of lobsters on a butter-lettuce salad before framing her answer. “His offer is generous, but I need to think it over.”
He toyed with the salad. “I thought you’d jump at the chance to move into the big time with your magazine. It is what you want, isn’t it?”
What was he getting at? “Of course it is.” She hoped she sounded more certain to him than to herself. “It was kind of you to recommend my work.”
“Not kind, practical. It’s called networking. You’ll get the hang of it once you start working with Hollander. He believes in lobbying in a big way. It isn’t altruism that keeps him serving on those government committees.”
“So I gathered. He as good as warned me if I don’t give him The Baby House, he’ll start one of his own.”
She hadn’t intended to tell him about the threat. With Nicholas, it was alarmingly easy to let her guard down. If she wasn’t careful she would end up telling him far more than she should.
Anger simmered in his dark gaze. “I know he’s a tough negotiator, but that’s pretty low.”
She affected a shrug. “My subscribers want specialist information, not glossy pictures. Any magazine he starts may outsell me, but I’m determined to survive.”
“You sound as if the decision’s already made. What happened to your plans to conquer the publishing world?”
She reached for a glass of water. “Angus Hollander’s way isn’t the only way to succeed in this business.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “It’s the fast lane to the top, which you’re supposed to want more than anything else.”
Panic ate at her, and it was all she could do to remain seated. “Supposed? You sound as if you doubt it.”
His fingers tightened around his water glass until she thought the stem would shatter. “I’ve always doubted it, and this time I’m not giving up until I get the truth.”
She played with the seafood dish that had been set in front of her, her appetite gone. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Either he would reject her outright or he would say it didn’t matter, that they could still have a future. No matter how much she wanted to hear it, she loved him too deeply to let him give up so much on her account.
“I’m waiting, Bethany.”
“Nicholas, I...”
Whatever she would have said was drowned out by the banshee wail of sirens coming closer and closer. A fire engine tore past the restaurant, lights and sirens blazing. They stopped abruptly a short distance away. Around them diners spilled out onto th
e street to see what was happening. One of them came back to the next table. “Looks like the children’s shelter is on fire,” he told his companion.
Bethany felt the color leave her face. Nicholas didn’t hesitate. He tossed a handful of banknotes onto the table and grabbed her hand. “Come on. They could need our help.”
Her own cares were forgotten as she clung to his hand, following in the path his determined progress cleared for them. She only prayed they would be in time.
Chapter Eleven
By the time they rounded the corner, the fire was a living creature, feeding on the old building that housed the children’s shelter. Its hot breath fanned them as they reached the end of the cobbled laneway, the narrow access hampering the firefighters’ attempts to move their equipment closer to the fire.
“The whole back of the building is on fire. The children!” Bethany gasped. She grabbed the nearest firefighter, pulled out her identification and thrust it forward. “I work here.”
“How many people were inside?” the firefighter asked.
“Five children, two adults.” The painters had left before Bethany, leaving only Stella and the night nurse.
The firefighter relayed the details to her colleagues and allowed Bethany and Nicholas to approach a little closer. “The boss tells me the night nurse already got the kids out. They were in a front room, and the fire started at the back so they’re unharmed, but the paramedics are checking them over to be on the safe side.”
“What about Stella?”
“Who’s Stella?”
“Dr. Stella Trioli, the center’s director,” Nicholas supplied. He looked over the shoulder of the firefighter to the flames consuming the rear of the century-old building then ducked, pulling Bethany down with him and covering her with his body as something exploded inside. “The paint cans must be feeding it.” Bethany nodded.
“We’ll get this woman if she’s still in there,” she was told. “The best thing you can do is stay out of harm’s way.”
Minutes passed with no sign of the older woman. Crouched behind a sheltering wall, Bethany traded desperate glances with Nicholas. “What if Stella’s trapped inside somewhere?” She was horrified at how reedy her voice sounded over the fire’s roar.
He looked grim. “Could she have gone home?”
“Stella never goes home on time. She lives... lives and breathes for these children.”
Nicholas stood up, and fear shafted through Bethany. “You can’t mean to go in there? You heard the firefighter.”
“Where’s the most likely place to find Stella?”
“Her office is the window closest to the rear on this side, but—”
“Wait here.”
“Nicholas, no.” Either he didn’t hear her over the locomotive roar of the fire or he wasn’t listening. He kept going.
Radiant heat from the road seeped through the soles of her shoes, but she registered only his commanding figure striding unhesitatingly toward the building. She stood up to watch his lithe movements, and waves of heat poured over her. Her smoke-seared throat closed. He was here because of her, risking his life in a place he should never have been. If anything happened to him she would never forgive herself.
There was only one thing to do. Covering her nose and mouth with a handkerchief, she followed him. She knew the layout of the shelter better than anyone. There must be some way she could help.
The firefighters were busy with the back section and no one tried to stop her. Inside, the smoke was blinding. She made her way more by touch than sight, almost falling over painting debris in the halls. When she reached it, Stella’s office door refused to open. “Nicholas?” she called over the roar of the fire.
“In here. Door slammed shut behind me,” he called back. “Stella’s alive but unconscious, probably from the smoke.”
Bethany fought the door but the century-old timber resisted. Even before Stella complained about it sticking this morning, it had always been difficult. Now it was impossible. “It’s no use, it won’t budge,” she called.
“Try the window. I’ll meet you there.”
She raced back outside and around to Stella’s office window. Nicholas was already there, Stella in his arms. Bethany looked around frantically, then picked up a loose brick. She held it up so he would see what she intended to do. He turned his back, sheltering Stella from the glass as Bethany shattered the window and cleared as much broken glass as she could from the frame with the brick.
Moments later he passed the unconscious woman to her and clambered out himself, then took Stella from her. “We’ve got to get to the ambulance.”
“This way.”
The paramedics met them halfway and transferred Stella to a stretcher. Coming to consciousness, she coughed and fought them, and Bethany felt fresh tears sting her eyes. “You saved her life.”
Nicholas ignored the compliment. “Are you all right?”
“You’re asking me? You walk into a burning building that’s falling down around you and you ask me if I’m okay? You could have been killed.” She couldn’t stop her voice from cracking.
He heard it and took her arms. “It’s all right, Bethany. I’m all right.”
His strong grip was so welcome, she couldn’t doubt it. “Yes, you are, thank goodness. For a while, I thought...”
“Then don’t think. You took a big risk yourself. I thought I told you to stay put.” His gentle, admiring tone belied the chiding words. He looked at the babies gathered around the night nurse in the shelter of the ambulance. “What are these children going to do? The building looks like it won’t be habitable for some time.”
“It was bad enough before. The fire must have started among the paint things,” she said, remembering a painter’s cigarette this morning. If he had lit another one in defiance of Stella’s orders, then dropped it somewhere... She dismissed the speculation. The experts would establish what happened, and the center was insured. Nicholas was right, the children were their most pressing concern.
She chewed her lower lip. “We used up all our emergency accommodation relocating the children before the renovations started. These five are here because they have nowhere else to go.”
“Then there’s only one place to take them—home with me.”
“To Yarrawong?” She remembered the rooms that had been intended as tourist accommodations. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and turned to Stella who was recovering rapidly and resisting the paramedic’s attempts to convince her to go to the hospital for observation. “We’ll need your authority to take the children to my property, Dr. Trioli.”
She gave it readily, gesturing weakly from the stretcher. “Luckily the shelter’s minibus was parked around the corner, out of the fire’s path.” She fumbled in her pocket and proffered a car key. “Take it, it should hold everyone.”
The paramedic finally convinced her to accept treatment. She gave Nicholas a wry look. “Medical people always want to meddle. I’ll come and see you as soon as they let me.” Coughing, she grasped his hand. “Thank you for saving me. It was foolhardy but I’m not going to complain.”
He returned the doctor’s weak clasp. “You concentrate on recovering. The children will be fine with Bethany and me until you can make proper arrangements.”
Stella’s gaze went from Nicholas to Bethany. “Seeing you together, I understand why she won’t rejoin my staff. Can’t say I blame her.” She started to cough again, and the paramedics insisted on loading her into the ambulance without any more delays.
After they left, Nicholas fetched the minibus and they put the children aboard. Bethany stared transfixed at the smoldering ruins being guarded by the firefighters. Nicholas took her arm. “Come on. You can’t do any more here.”
He was right, and she let him help her aboard the bus. It was equipped with a car phone, which he used to alert Georgina to expect them. Kylie had left for the day, but the night nurse from the shelter agreed to follow them in her own car.
A
few hours ago she had thought she would never see Nicholas again, far less be driving back to Yarrawong with him. It was almost too much to take in. Belatedly it dawned on her that she had nothing with her other than the clothes she was wearing.
With the babies strapped into an assortment of safety seats in the roomy bus, a detour was unthinkable, so there was nothing to be done about it. This was the second unplanned night she would spend with him, she realized. It was also likely to be the last night of any kind they would have together.
Georgina met them at the door and helped to carry the children to the rooms she had prepared since receiving Nicholas’s phone call. The children were hungry and, even with four pairs of hands, it was some time before they were all fed, changed and settled again for what remained of the night.
Watching Nicholas tend to the last infant, Bethany felt a tug around the region of her heart. He held the small boy against his shoulder, looking so attractive and natural that desire slammed through her. She loved Nicholas, wanting him and the babies he dreamed of having, more than she had ever wanted anything.
Ramming her knuckles against her mouth to stifle the sounds welling in her throat, she shouldered her way out of the room.
By a superhuman effort of will, she got her runaway emotions under control by the time Nicholas joined her on the veranda. She was glad of the shadows hiding the expression in her eyes from his searching inspection. He stretched and leaned against the waist-high railing. “What a night.”
“Everyone asleep?” Her voice sounded hollow.
He nodded tiredly. “They seem to do everything in series. Wake up, eat, sleep.”
She nodded. “It’s the same at the shelter. If one starts to cry, soon they all join in.”
He turned his head. “What did Stella mean when she said she couldn’t persuade you to rejoin the staff?”
Her heart pounded loudly enough to muffle the night sounds coming from the surrounding bushland. “I’m thinking over my options. I still haven’t decided what to do about Angus Hollander’s offer.”
“Yes, you have,” he said quietly, reaching to draw her close to him.