Footsteps across the veranda—her father returning so quickly?
‘Anyone home?’
Marty!
‘In the kitchen,’ she called back, but the comings and goings had woken the boys from their afternoon sleep, and her only reaction to Marty’s ‘I’ll get them,’ was one of relief.
At least she could wash the sticky dough off her hands, and probably her face, before he came in.
But when he did come in, a beaming boy on each arm, the dog at his heels, her heart stood still.
Maybe she did need a man, a voice in her head whispered. A man to make a family—father, mother, children, and a dog—surely the picture-perfect family?
So, a man—
Just not this one, another voice pointed out. He wasn’t available.
Somehow they were all around the table, Marty making a pot of tea while Emma rolled the dough in flour to lessen the stickiness and divided it into two pieces.
‘It’s green,’ Hamish pointed out, quite unnecessarily.
‘Very green,’ this from Marty as he put the teapot on its stand in the middle of the table.
‘We can make frogs,’ Xavier said, sheer delight in his voice and face.
‘Out on the veranda, and not until you’ve had your snack,’ Emma told them, getting up and washing her hands again—and, no, green food colouring didn’t come off with soap and water.
She found biscuits and sultanas for the boys, poured each of them a glass of milk, then sat down to have a cup of tea, Marty already having found mugs, small plates and the biscuit tin.
Yes, maybe a husband would come in handy sometimes. But no more than that. She could easily manage without one.
‘Your hands are green,’ Hamish told her.
‘Really?’ she teased. ‘I thought they were purple.’
‘No, definitely green,’ her more serious son, Xavier, assured her.
But the lure of green hands ended the boys’ conversation as they scoffed down their snacks, drank their milk and headed, green balls in hand, for their play table on the veranda.
‘Too much food colouring?’ Marty asked.
He was seated opposite her, across a wide, old, kitchen table that really wasn’t wide enough. But she had other distractions right now.
‘Dad does all this stuff so easily,’ she said, sighing and running her green fingers through her hair to push it off her face. ‘I do so want to set him free—to get him out and about, and leading a life of his own—but he worries about how I’ll cope. And then there’s the boys—growing up without a father, especially when they reach puberty, and start asking questions. I know heaps of kids do grow up without a father, but what if they feel cheated later?’
She paused, shaking away the thoughts tumbling through her head, then looked across the table at Marty.
‘I really do need a man,’ she said, the words bursting from her lips before she realised just how desperate they sounded.
Not to mention pathetic!
Although who better to tell than a man who wasn’t interested in her himself?
Wouldn’t it be handy to have his opinion on the subject?
‘I know I should be able to cope on my own, and I’m sure I could, but it’s making Dad see it.’
Marty was sipping his tea, but looked interested enough for her to continue.
‘If I had a man, then Dad would feel it was okay to get on with his own life because he wouldn’t be leaving me alone. I’d thought of it—not hard, but there’d been a tiny seed of an idea—back there in Sydney. I’d been thinking it might be good for the kids to have a father. It’s only since I’ve been up here and seen Dad with people of his own age that I realise how selfish I’ve been not to have let him go before now.’
‘I don’t think it was a matter of you letting him go, but more he wouldn’t have left you on your own,’ Marty pointed out.
‘That’s the problem.’
She was about to say more but noises from the veranda had Emma on her feet.
Green froth around the dog’s mouth explained what had happened, and as Xavier was wailing, it was his playdough the ‘puppy’ had eaten.
Emma divided the remaining dough, ignoring Hamish’s protests, and they settled down again, but she knew the game was losing their attention and was relieved when Marty appeared with their two cups of tea.
‘If we sit here, we can watch them,’ he said, hitching a cane table closer with his foot. He set down the tea and brought over two chairs.
Emma gave a huff of laughter and half smiled as she said, ‘You can see why having a man around would be easier.’
Marty looked at the woman who was causing chaos in his mind and body, agreeing with the idea she needed a man but for different reasons. If she was married he’d no longer be interested in her—he hoped—because he’d always avoided the unnecessary complications of dating a married woman. As far as he was concerned, it just wasn’t done.
But all her talk of having a man around didn’t seem to be making her happy. In fact—
‘You said that as if, while it might be easier as far as managing the boys goes, and freeing up your father, you’d see it as a nuisance—a penance of some kind. Something you’d be doing solely for your father and the boys and not for yourself.’
She frowned at him over her teacup.
‘Would it matter why I wanted him?’ she asked.
‘It might to him,’ Marty pointed out, and she frowned again.
‘Why?’
He studied her for a moment.
‘Well, from all you’ve told me, you could hire a housekeeper. It’s a big house, so she could live in, be around for you and the boys, satisfy your father that there was someone there for you.’
‘But...’ She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the words she needed. Tried again. ‘But she wouldn’t be a father to the boys.’
‘You haven’t thought this through at all, have you?’ Marty asked, more than slightly bemused by the situation. ‘If this unknown man is to be a father to your boys, he’d have to be your husband. You should be thinking of a man for yourself, not the boys. Thinking of what you want first.’
He saw the colour creep into her cheeks.
Embarrassment or anger?
‘I do know I’d have obligations,’ she said, obviously embarrassed now. ‘I’m not completely stupid. I’d probably even enjoy the kind of closeness sex brings.’
She’d dropped her voice before mentioning the ‘s’ word but the boys were further down the veranda now, wrestling with the dog.
‘And love?’
‘What about it?’ she demanded, looking directly into his eyes, as if daring him to continue the conversation.
He shrugged, sure she knew exactly what he meant.
They sat in silence for a minute, then she reached out and touched his hand where it lay on the table by his tea-cup.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just the love thing, the risk of it. I don’t know if I could do it again. But I shouldn’t argue with you of all people. You’re the only real friend I feel I’ve made so far in Braxton.’
Marty’s hand burned from the touch but he knew he was an inch away from quicksand.
‘It’s what I hang around for,’ he said, hoping he sounded far more disinterested than he felt. ‘Just someone to be snapped at, and thank you for the friend part. Friends are precious.’
Unsure he could maintain his air of detachment, he stood up, collected both cups, and walked through to the kitchen.
‘I’d better be going,’ he said as he returned to the veranda. ‘Only called in to say I’m happy to drive you and Ned to the barn dance on Saturday night. I’ll come by at about six-thirty. It’s a twenty-minute drive out along the Wetherby road. Wear jeans, check shirts, straw-in-mouth kind of gear.’
He paused before adding, ‘
Oh, and we all bring our own picnic supper. Izzy and Mac will be joining our group, so Carrie will probably arrange who brings what. She’ll be in touch.’
‘We’ll be ready,’ Emma said, but all emotion had been wiped from her voice, and her face was pale and still.
Had he hurt her with his talk of love? The thought made him uncomfortable in a way he didn’t want to think about.
Deep down uncomfortable...
A whole new emotional discomfort he’d never experienced before...
Love?
No way!
‘Then I’m off,’ he said, and called out goodbye to the boys.
That gave her time to get to her feet and come to the top of the steps.
‘You’re right, friends are precious,’ she said, taking his hand and holding it as she reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you for being mine.’
He walked down the steps, his mind keeping pace with his feet. I will not touch my cheek. I am not sixteen, and bowled over by a first kiss. And I won’t turn around, for all I know, she’s watching me.
He lasted until he reached the gate, when he did turn, and wave, and if his hand accidentally touched his cheek as it dropped back into place, well, that wasn’t all that adolescent!
CHAPTER SIX
SATURDAY FINALLY ARRIVED, and although Emma was secretly dreading this first social event of her life in Braxton, she was excited as well.
And, no, she told herself firmly, it had nothing to do with seeing Marty again.
He’d been conspicuous by his absence at the hospital all week, although she knew two new patients in the post-op ward had been brought in from outlying properties by the rescue helicopter.
She’d even looked out for him in case he came to visit the new patients, then chided herself for caring.
But as she made a large salad on Saturday afternoon, and phoned Carrie to ask if she needed to bring plates and cutlery, her excitement grew.
Because she’d be seeing Marty?
She blanked the thought, replaced it with the knowledge that her father would enjoy meeting up with old school friends again, and maybe get involved in more local activities. Marty had been right, she could get a housekeeper, even part time. That would free up her father to pursue a new life.
They’d work out a schedule to give him more free time.
She was in her bedroom, looking through her wardrobe for something that would pass for a country shirt, when her father called from the hall.
‘Ta-da!’ he said, grinning from ear to ear and looking utterly ridiculous in a too-small hat with pigtails hanging from it.
‘I don’t think it’s a back to childhood party,’ she told him when she stopped laughing.
He took it off and handed it to her.
‘It’s for you. I found it in a junk shop and I’ve wiped it out with antiseptic, though I doubt, from the look of it, it’s ever been worn. Do try it on.’
She pulled the hat onto her head, arranged the pigtails so they fell across her ears, and bowed to her delighted father.
‘Great!’ he said, and he went off to get dressed himself, although when she saw him, he didn’t look much different to his usual self in tan chinos and, yes, a checked shirt, but he had tied a bandana around his neck and then produced from behind his back a hat with corks dangling from it.
‘We’ll make the perfect Aussie couple,’ he told her, offering her his arm and sweeping her into a wild dance down the hall.
‘Hey!’ she finally said. ‘I’ve got to finish getting ready. You could put the salad in the big basket and pack some cold drinks into a cool box. Marty will be here before we know it.’
And he was, coming up the front steps to tell them he already had Carrie in the car, and ask if they were ready.
He roared with laughter at Emma’s hat.
‘That’s priceless!’ he finally said. ‘You’ll fit right in.’
She said goodnight to the boys, and reminded the babysitters to call her cellphone if there were any problems, then followed the men to the car.
The drive took them through some of the burnt-out bushland, legacy of the fire, and although it made Emma feel a little sad, her driver, the eternal optimist, pointed out green shoots already sprouting from some of the trees and bushes.
‘The Aborigines used fire to regenerate their land,’ her father said. ‘They did it carefully, in patches, so there was always fresh food for the animals and fresh seeds and nuts for themselves.’
The road wound through the mountains, then opened out onto green farmland.
‘We turn off here—the sanctuary is just down this lane,’ Carrie explained.
And soon they began to see the animals, horses so old they moved slowly but were probably still loved by the families who could no longer keep them.
Goats and donkeys abounded, and Emma was delighted.
‘Do they allow visitors? Could I bring the boys out here?’ she asked, and Carrie laughed.
‘Of course you can. It’s how they make most of their money,’ she explained. ‘You pay a small admission charge and there are set visiting hours, but with busloads of school kids coming, as well as families at weekends, they get a fair bit. The barn dance and auction top it off, and usually that money goes towards building repairs.’
‘What’s the auction about?’ Emma asked. ‘What gets auctioned?’
‘The animals,’ Marty said, breaking a silence that had seemed to be too long.
‘You can bid for any of the animals, and whatever you bid goes to that animal for the year. I think Mac got the three-legged goat his first year here.’
‘Poor Mac,’ Carrie said. ‘He hardly knew what had hit him when he was thrust into this family.’
‘Hardly knew what had hit him when he met Izzy,’ Marty pointed out, and Carrie agreed that their romance had been something special.
But ahead Emma could see lights, and hear music, and soon the lights showed her the largest barn she’d ever seen.
‘It looks like more like a three-storey building,’ she said, and the others agreed.
‘Bloke who built it had a combine harvester and several other large farm machines. He contracted out to farmers who didn’t want to keep expensive machinery sitting around for most of the year when there was someone who would come in and do the job. He knew Meg, who runs the centre, and knew her premises were growing too small, so he left the place to her in his will—the whole property.’
‘It was a wonderful gift,’ Ned said, looking around, while Emma’s attention was on the barn and the people gathered about a bar just inside the doorway.
She was sure she’d spotted Neil and was wondering how she could get through a whole evening without being caught up with him when Carrie said, ‘Oh, no, it’s Neil. Emma, I do apologise for inviting him for lunch, but I’d only spoken a few words to him in the corridors at work and thought he’d be okay.’
‘I’ll keep him occupied,’ Ned offered. ‘Maybe not all night because I’m here to dance, but I’ll keep watch and if he nabbles you, Em, I’ll steer him away. I’m actually quite interested in the agricultural produce of the area. Things have changed a lot since I grew up here.’
It didn’t take long for Emma to realise she was really enjoying herself. Many of the staff from the hospital were there, and she was whirled from one country dance to another.
To her delight, she saw her father was also enjoying himself, sometimes dancing but more often deep in conversation with men and women his age—no doubt old school friends.
‘This was the best decision we’ve ever made, me and Dad,’ she said to Marty when he appeared from nowhere and claimed a dance. ‘Just look at him, he’s having the time of his life.’
Marty looked over to where Ned was engaged in a spirited dance with Gladys from the milk bar, talking and laughing at the same time.
‘How he’s got enough breath to talk beats me,’ Emma said.
‘Does it matter?’ Marty asked, teasing blue eyes looking down into hers.
‘Of course not,’ Emma managed, although she knew her face had grown hot and her whole body had reacted to that look.
Marty pulled her closer.
‘I’d like to whisk you away behind a deserted hay bale,’ he murmured in her ear.
Emma recovered enough sense to retort, ‘If you could find one—deserted, I mean.’
But her mind wasn’t completely on the conversation. Some distance away, sitting quietly on a rug-covered straw bale, Izzy was looking far from well.
Emma looked around, and saw Mac dancing on the other side of the barn.
‘Let’s go see Izzy,’ she said to Marty, who’d been slowly drawing her closer and closer in his arms.
He began to protest, but Emma was already moving away, wending her way through the revellers to where she’d seen Izzy.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked, when she reached the flushed and slightly shaky woman.
‘I think so,’ Izzy replied. ‘Just suddenly didn’t feel well. I probably shouldn’t have been rollicking around so much on the dance floor and it’s made me a bit dizzy, as if my head’s still whirling.’
But Emma was already checking her out. Some swelling of the feet and ankles—fairly normal in pregnancy—but as she took Izzy’s hand she saw it was also swollen, her wedding ring biting into her finger.
She slid her fingers up the swollen wrist to feel for a pulse—definitely high—and turned to Marty, who had appeared beside her.
‘Get Mac to come over, take his car keys and get his car as close to the door as you can, then ask Dad if he’ll drive your car and Carrie back to Braxton. It could be pre-eclampsia and we should get Izzy to the hospital in Braxton as soon as possible just in case.’
Memories threatened. Memories of shock and fear, but she pushed them away. Izzy needed her to be at her best.
To Izzy she said, ‘You’ll be fine. It’s a precaution, but you have enough medical experience to know if it is pre-eclampsia you need treatment right away.’
From Bachelor to Daddy Page 9