A Reason To Stay
Linda Charles
www.escapepublishing.com.au
A Reason To Stay
Linda Charles
Mindalby, a small town, a community, a home. But when the mill that supports the local cotton farmers and employs many of the town’s residents closes unexpectedly, old tensions are exposed and new rifts develop. Everyone is affected and some react better than others, but one thing is certain: living on the edge of the outback means they have to survive together, or let their town die.
Rachael, a successful lawyer in Sydney, returns to her foster family and the only place that ever felt like home: Mindalby, to help with the failing family business, the town’s bakery. With the cotton mill’s closure, all businesses are struggling, and it looks like the only option is to close up the bakery and hope to sell. But when Rachael returns, she realises that her skills give her other options: refreshing and revitalising the bakery and a chance to rekindle her love of baking.
Irishman, Mike O’Malley is a staying kind of man, looking to settle down in Mindalby with a woman who loves the wild country and wants to get involved in the community. Rachael is not that girl, but the attraction is hard to deny. Determined to show Rachael that Mindalby can be a home, he draws her out into the community and deeper into his life. But when it comes time to make a decision, can he trust Rachael to risk her heart?
About the author
LINDA CHARLES has been reading romance since high school. Her reading life started very early, but changed direction after she read Gone with the Wind. She was born in Sydney and spent her teenage years in drama classes, and then taught Speech & Drama for many years. She still loves to go to the theatre, but her plan was always to write. Linda lives in Newcastle and when she’s not writing, she can be found walking, browsing the bookshops or planning her next holiday.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to SE Gilchrist whose friendship, energy, and enthusiasm brought us all together to create this wonderful series. It’s been an exciting project and friendships have deepened. To my fellow writers of this series—I will never be able to thank you enough for the laughter, the long nights, the encouragement and your honesty throughout the whole process. This is a story set in the country and I started my research with the Country Women’s Association. A special thank you to Fiona McPherson Tuckey who gave us two contacts; her uncle John McPherson, a cotton farmer, who kindly answered every question on my long list; and Kym Armytage who supplied us with many links and information regarding cotton growing.
To Dad
Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...
Chapter 1
How do you ask for forgiveness?
Rachael Hammond bit her bottom lip. That question had consumed her for the whole seven-hour-plus drive from Sydney. Was that even the right question? She glanced across at her phone; it was past three in the afternoon. By her calculation Nancy Henderson, her foster mother, should be in recovery following her heart operation. So why hadn’t she heard? She glanced again at her phone, willing her foster-sister, Sharlene, to text an update.
She steered her car up a steep incline for the final stretch to Mindalby. On the crest the low afternoon sun flashed sharp and bright, piercing the skyline, momentarily blinding her. In seconds that curtain of brightness fell away to reveal the deep rich red earth which supported the bluest of blue skies. The naked beauty and vastness of the cotton plains tugged at her heart.
She ignored the tug and kept her focus on the black asphalt road which was devoid of any traffic.
I’m guilty. Of neglect. Forgetfulness.
What was it her boss, Gordon Reynolds, often said at his team-building workshops? Guilt was love in reverse. If so, that meant she had been drowning in love for most of her adult life. Nancy deserved so much more from her than a weekly diarised call, and a couple of catch-up nights over Christmas. A sickening unease swirled in the pit of her stomach. It hadn’t been good enough, nowhere near good enough.
If a client called or her boss she’d drop everything to help them. It had to take Nancy having a heart attack before she returned home outside of Christmas.
Loud, incessant, shrill squawks broke into her thoughts. She tilted her head and saw the tail end of a flock of white cockatoos descending high above her. Despite her gloomy thoughts, a hint of excitement crept into her bones. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in a long time.
It revived her love of being in back country and the sense of freedom it brought. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator, hard. Her mini sports coupe jolted into action. The speedometer shifted—sixty, eighty, ninety, one hundred, one hundred and ten.
She hit the switch by her door and the window slid down. Icy cold air blew into the cabin, blasting away her tiredness as she sped past paddock after paddock. Mindalby tended to shut up shop after four on Fridays, and as far as she could tell, nothing had changed. The paddocks were empty except for a few cattle, and not a car in sight.
Her day had started like any other. When she’d left her one-bed unit for the short walk across Hyde Park to her law office in Sydney, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Sloane & Sloane, one of the oldest law firms in Sydney, was situated in the top half of the Australia Square building overlooking Sydney Harbour.
The kitchen on her floor was abuzz with colleagues making their morning coffees and breakfasts when Shar called. Within the hour, Rachael was on the highway heading out to Mindalby.
Nancy was her last foster mother and the only one who mattered. Nancy was both tough and kind, and the two had argued over everything for weeks. Bert only ever shook his head and went about his business. It took a couple of months, but Nancy had won her over and encouraged her to find her way in the big smoke—to study at university and to go as far as she wanted. It was time she thanked her.
She smiled at the memories.
Her phone pinged and Shar’s text message flashed onto the small screen: Nancy is very tired. Come home first. The simple message made sense and she couldn’t find any hidden clues. There would be no peace for her until she saw Nancy for herself.
As she entered the township she eased her foot onto the brake. Her eyes widened in surprise at the large crowd gathered outside the Mindalby Cotton Company. She was almost crawling as she passed by and it forced her to focus on her driving as she navigated her way around the crowd who had spilled out onto the footpath and others who darted out into the street carrying placards.
What is going on?
Further on down the road, she slowed outside Bread, Buns and Treats, and pulled up outside the shop. Leaning across the passenger seat she studied her family’s bakery. Tiles on the step were either chipped or broken, the old shop sign was barely visible, and the garbage bin overflowing. An overwhelming sense of loss and sadness swamped her.
Sighing, she drove on, winding her way through the familiar streets that led to Rolls Street, and pulled up outside the Henderson family home.
At last. A long sigh shuddered through her.
She climbed out and the icy wind whipped around her. Shivering she wrapped her scarf tight
around her neck and dragged on her woollen overcoat. Leaning in to retrieve her bag, briefcase and phone, she spied her early morning breakfast conference notes clipped together lying on the passenger seat.
The firm was working on the biggest deal in its history and Gordon was at his worst, driving and pushing his team to get it over the line in record time. A familiar tightness crawled upwards from her upper arms. She rolled her shoulders and neck—not that it helped as much as she would have liked—and wondered if there was a masseuse in Mindalby. She slammed the door shut.
Later.
A high-pitched squeal rent the air, followed by children giggling and laughing. She drew in a deep breath and grimaced. Please, not an after-school meet-up. She made her way down the narrow path along the side of the house and the laughter grew in volume and hysteria. At the end of the brick building she stopped.
A dark-haired stranger was sitting on his haunches in the centre of the small backyard. Shar’s twin six-year-old boys, Jake and Matty, were straddling the man, one on each side. Eighteen-month-old Abi stood by barefoot and giggling, happily unaware her clothes and hair were adorned with a smattering of grass and twigs. The stranger held out his arms and Abi ran into them. Taking her pudgy arms in his large hands he growled into her face. Abi’s delighted squeals echoed in the narrow backyard as he held her close.
With her arms folded across her chest, Rachael leaned against the brick wall and enjoyed the scene.
He was a great big bear of a man, tanned, broad-shouldered with dark unruly hair, and a pair of lively brown eyes that dominated his rugged face. He shifted and lurched forward a little to get a reaction from the children. They didn’t disappoint. Their voices rose to fever pitch before he gave a tiny spin.
Jake and Matty were laughing uncontrollably as they struggled to keep a firm hold. The boys clutched at the stranger’s arms, neck and t-shirt in a desperate effort to stay on board. His body-hugging jeans and t-shirt did nothing to hide his well-toned body. Rachael watched with interest; it had been years since she’d even been close to such a body.
She sighed. Don’t go there, Rach. Keep focused.
Men, or rather long-term relationships, were off her agenda and had been for a couple of years. All her energies were centred on getting a partnership with her firm—that’s where her future lay.
She walked further into the yard and dropped her bag and briefcase by her legs.
The stranger looked up with a slow smile, his eyes widening with interest. She gave him a quick nod.
The back screen door slammed shut.
A thin and weary-looking Shar walked towards her with outstretched arms. With some effort Rachael managed to hide her shock. Shar hugged her tight and whispered, ‘I’m glad you made it.’
‘Me too. How’s Nancy?’
‘She’s out of recovery and back in the ward, but still no visitors allowed yet.’
Rachael felt a warm rush of relief swirl in her stomach. Nancy survived the operation. An icy jolt of guilt rode on the heels of the relief. Her hand slid over Shar’s shoulder—it wasn’t only Nancy she’d let down.
Rachael turned back to the stranger, his head bent studying something Abi was showing him.
She whispered. ‘Who’s your babysitter?’
Shar gave her a knowing smile. ‘That’s Mike O’Malley. He’s waiting for Bob. They’re going to a meeting at the mill.’
Abi let out a sharp high-pitched squeal as she stared up at Mike with open adoration. Mike knelt down and gently eased the boys off his back, and then dusted them down.
Rachael nudged her sister. ‘Sorry. I’m …’
‘Preoccupied,’ whispered Shar. ‘I get it. It’s not often you see a real man. Beats the cut-outs you work with.’ Before Rachael could respond Shar broke away from her. ‘Hey, Mike, come and meet my sister. You boys get inside and clean up.’
Jake and Matty ran past Rachael, each giving her a high-five as they did so. Mike walked towards them with a smiling Abi in his arms. He moved with a natural athleticism, and a sixth sense was telling her he was not the gym-manufactured kind of guy. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she waited in anticipation.
‘Mike, this is my sister, Rachael. She’s just arrived from Sydney.’
Mike extended his hand which was warm and firm. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and her eyes shot up to meet his mischievous brown eyes. The flutter in her chest went into freefall. If only she could box him up and take him to Sydney. Scotch that thought. Where could she find the time for a boyfriend?
‘Sister?’ asked Mike, his eyes flitting from Shar to Rachael. ‘I don’t see the resemblance.’
Her eyes widened. How sexy. ‘Is that an Irish or a Scottish accent?’
‘Irish. I came out here five years ago, fell in love with the place, came back and stayed.’
He smiled a smile that started from the curve of his lips and travelled all the way up to the crease around his eyes. His eyes were the sucker punch: they drew her in and she couldn’t turn away. There was no subterfuge or little games being played out and her insides did a little jig. A genuine smile.
Her sister’s arm slid about her waist with such force she was almost thrown off balance. ‘Technically we’re foster sisters, but to me, she’s my sister. We’re polar opposites; the only thing we ever shared was a bedroom.’
Shar’s dry response was not lost on Rachael. It had taken her weeks before she could relax enough to sleep through a full night. Even longer to unpack. She hated thinking about those early days with the Henderson family.
Rachael frowned, thinking over his words. At the fear of sounding stupid in front of Mike, she did just that. ‘I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to live out here.’
Mike moved closer to her, a slight frown crossing his handsome face. ‘I tried Sydney, and once I saw the alternative, it was a no-brainer.’
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and the name ‘Rosie’—her PA—flashed across the screen. She groaned. ‘Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.’
Shar nodded and pointed to inside as she carried a sleepy Abi into the house. Rachael pulled open her briefcase and grabbed her notepad and pen.
She looked about, searching for the outdoor furniture that had always been in the backyard. ‘Where is it? There used to be a table, chairs?’ She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her growing anxiety. Under Mike’s gaze her brain was stagnating. In her world once was enough to look foolish in a day, twice was tantamount to a brain freeze.
He waved a hand in front of her face and pointed to his back. Before she could acknowledge him he turned and she quickly perched her folder onto his broad upper back.
‘Rach, can you hear me?’ boomed Rosie.
‘You’re faint. I’ll put you on loud speaker. There, that should do it,’ she said as she studied her to-do list, thankful she’d put that on top of her folder.
‘We okay?’ asked Rosie, sounding tinny but much clearer.
‘Yes, here we go. I want you to prepare a list of all calls and voicemails. Send those through by four each day. Prepare a running costs check on all the Harper matters. Send through the presentation I gave last year at the Young Lawyers conference in Singapore, and book my flights to Melbourne for the Funds Management conference next month.’
She ticked off a few items. ‘Don’t forget to book a car. Speak to Anna Newman about that, she’s got a new driver and said he’s great. Book coffee catch-ups with Jason Higgs, Fiona Jackson, also Alicia, and plan for one a day on the week I get back, make them all mid-morning. Tell Gordon I’ll check the drafts of the due diligence reports on the Parker Street properties tonight and book a conference call for nine am tomorrow for that. Send through the dial-in when you send the meeting invites. Before you go, any message from Gordon?’
‘No. He’s been in back-to-backs all day.’
Her breathing hitched. Something wasn’t right. ‘Okay. Tell him I’m open for a Skype call or a conference call anytime. Please let him know
.’
‘Got it.’
She gave her list a final check. ‘That’s it for now. Thanks, Rosie.’
Something caught her eye. She spied a small tattoo covered by a couple of small curls at the back of Mike’s head. He swung around, surprising her, and questions about his tat tumbled out of her head.
‘Who’s Gordon?’
She tossed her notepad into her briefcase. ‘Gordon Reynolds is my boss, and thank you. Your back saved me.’ She waved her mobile at him. ‘It’s been touch and go all day.’
He rolled his enormous shoulders. ‘I’m exhausted just hearing that,’ said Mike.
Rachael didn’t think twice about her workload. She loved the cut and thrust of legal work. ‘That’s corporate life—it’s challenging. That’s why you sign up.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you think? I don’t need a corporate identity for a challenging life.’
Rachael struggled to stare down the sexiest guy she’d met in years. Her full-on stares were legendary, but they weren’t having any effect on Mike. He was so out of the park compared to the guys she met and socialised with, where her thoughts were always based on what the guy did, what he was after, and what was in it for the firm.
She sighed. ‘Of course not. What I’m saying is, not everything’s as time-consuming, or as life-embracing.’
Mike shook his head, his soft curls brushing against his neck. ‘Don’t they feed you some clap-trap? Life-embracing? You must be prostrating before your boss every morning saying “how high, how wide, how deep do you want me to go today?” ’
She winced. His endearing accent softened the harshness of his words. She’d never let him know that part of her agreed with his sentiment. She was a litigator and proud of it.
‘My team is like a family to me. I spend more waking hours with them than anybody else on this earth.’
Mike nodded. He took a step closer to her, all six foot plus of him. He was impressive, and he clearly wasn’t letting her off the hook. Well, if he had an issue she was up for it.
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