Playing the Part

by Darcy Daniel

  But she hadn’t forgotten, not really. She had just been so desperate to forget anything that reminded her of Mayfield, of her mother…

  “Karin, I’m sorry I—”

  Karin held up a hand, shook her head. “Forget it. I didn’t mean…” She glanced at her watch again. “If you don’t mind, I really do have to go and collect my daughter.”

  Anthea rose, realizing her plan to ask Karin if she could stay the night seemed to be out of the question. What had she been thinking, anyway? That Karin would be thrilled to see her because she was a celebrity? It hadn’t even occurred to her that her old friend wouldn’t welcome her with open arms.

  Karin led her through to the front door. Anthea stepped across the threshold and faced her old friend. “Well, it was lovely seeing you again. I’m so glad everything worked out so well for you.”

  With a heavy heart, she walked down the steps.

  “Anthea?”

  Turning, she watched Karin step onto the porch, shake her head and sigh.

  “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. But I know these people. The farmers, they’d probably say yes to you, but it would cause problems with their wives. Even if they don’t believe those magazine articles, they still wouldn’t be able to push aside their suspicions. You understand, don’t you?”

  Anthea nodded. “It’s fine, Karin. It’s my own fault for just arriving, expecting everything to fall into place.”

  Karin took another step toward her, a slight smile on her lips. “You know, there is one farmer who isn’t married. He doesn’t have anyone special in his life who might be upset by you trailing him around.”

  “There is?” she asked, surprised Karin seemed to have changed her mind.

  “It’s just a shame you’re the last person he’d want to help.”

  Her heart sank. She supposed she deserved to be toyed with, but curiosity got the better of her. “Who?”

  “Cole Daniel.”

  An image of his muscular frame retreating into the field came to her. She shook her head, annoyed by what her memory chose to remember.

  “I guess I only have myself to blame for eliminating that option, don’t I?”

  Karin’s lips contorted, as if she was holding something back. After a moment, she said, “Did you tell him who you were when you asked for those directions?”

  “No. There wasn’t really any need.”

  Karin nodded, frowned a little. “Well, like you said, it’s a shame he doesn’t like you. His farm would no doubt have been perfect for your research.” She paused, as if mulling something over. “Kind of ironic that he doesn’t actually know who you are though, isn’t it?”

  “What’re you say—”

  “Oh, look at the time,” Karin said as she glanced at her watch. “Sorry. I really have to get going.”

  Anthea watched in confusion as Karin hurried inside and closed the door.

  * * *

  After leaving Karin’s, Anthea decided she was too exhausted to make the five-hour trip to Sydney, so she drove to the only accommodation Mayfield offered visitors—the Mayfield Pub, which also served as the Mayfield Hotel.

  Parking proved to be no problem as she pulled up in front of the establishment. Even though the sun hung low in the sky, she donned her sunglasses and tied her silk scarf over her hair. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to be recognized.

  After discreetly checking in, she entered the room and groaned. The only furnishings were a hard double bed and a nightstand. No television, no minibar, none of the luxuries she’d grown accustomed to. Fortunately, she did have her own bathroom.

  After dumping the suitcase on the bed, she stripped off her dress, opened the case and selected the only sleeping apparel she’d packed. A sexy red nightie. Which seemed highly inappropriate in the dowdy room.

  Sinking onto the bed beside the suitcase, she thought about Karin’s last comments. In a roundabout way, had her old friend suggested she lie to Cole Daniel about her identity so she could conduct her research? That seemed to be what Karin had been hinting at, but it didn’t make sense. She’d made it clear that she’d been hurt when Anthea had left Mayfield and never contacted her again, so why try to help? Why plant that idea in her head? Why encourage her to stay, and even more bizarrely, encourage her to lie to a blind man who just so happened to be the last person on earth who would want to help her? Something about it didn’t sit right. And although she couldn’t help but contemplate the idea… well, it was just plain wrong.

  No, she wouldn’t do any such thing.

  Hurrying into the bathroom with her makeup bag, she removed the jade earring from her left ear, reached for her right earlobe to do the same and froze. In the mirror, she saw the panic on her face as she frantically brushed her hair aside, only to discover what she already knew. She’d lost one of her mother’s earrings.

  “No, no, no!” she shouted at her reflection.

  Close to tears, she stared at the single earring on her palm. She had to find its mate But where to start? In the car? Karin’s house? Or worse. What if it came off during the hailstorm? What if it was buried in the dirt somewhere in that massive field?

  As her heart sank with dread, she remembered something tugging at her ear when she’d towel dried her hair in Cole’s bathroom. Too intent on getting out of there, she hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Could it be that easy? It made sense. The towel must have caught on the earring’s backing and pulled it off.

  For a moment, she considered driving to Cole’s right then and there, but her eyes were already grainy, and she doubted she could find Cole’s farm in the dark. But if she managed to get some sleep and wake early, she should be able to catch him before he headed out into the field and all that dirt.

  After removing her makeup, she curled up on top of the bed and listened to the rowdy voices and laughter drifting in from the pub below. All those people enjoying each other’s company made her aware of how very alone in the world she truly was.

  She rummaged through her purse, found her cell and checked her messages. No voice mail, no texts. Not even her one and only living relative seemed concerned about her sudden disappearance. The phone let out an electronic beep and a message appeared on the screen informing her that the battery was low. She searched all her bags, but in her rush to get to Mayfield, she’d forgotten her charger. Powering off the phone, she flopped on her back and stared at the cracked ceiling.

  Soon her mind drifted to Karin and how her old friend viewed her. Okay, so Ethan never had a problem telling her how self-centered she was, but brothers were supposed to say things like that to their sisters.

  Did Karin really see her that way? Did the rest of the world? No. It couldn’t be true. She was a good, caring person. Wasn’t she?

  Alone and miserable, she took The Farmer’s Wife novel from her suitcase, hugged it to her chest and switched off the bedside lamp.

  * * *

  In the morning, Anthea woke early as planned, found Cole’s farm with ease, pulled into his driveway and skidded to a stop in front of the veranda steps. As she climbed from the car, the chocolate Labrador raced toward her and sat right in her path.

  “Shoo,” she said and flapped her hands.

  The dog refused to move. Annoyed, Anthea edged around it while its black, inquisitive eyes watched her every move.

  She stalked toward the steps, determined to get this over with so she could go home and forget about this miserable place all over again. She didn’t want to give up on the part that meant so much to her, but if she couldn’t find somewhere to—

  She stopped and looked at Cole’s home.

  With its wraparound veranda and corrugated bull-nose roof, the classic old farmhouse stood proud before her.

  Her pulse quickened as she climbed to the top of the veranda steps and turn
ed. She now saw that the massive plowed field in front of the house was flanked by the unusual and beautiful young trees she noticed yesterday. Her eyes widened in excitement.

  Karin was right. Anthea had been here yesterday, yet failed to see what was right in front of her. How could she have been so blind?

  Cole’s farm was the perfect place to conduct her research.

  The Labrador trotted over and joined her at the top of stairs.

  “Well, almost perfect,” she said, eyeing the dog.

  Could she really deceive the grump, though? Lying to a blind man to get her own way—especially when she knew he’d kick her to the curb in a second if he discovered who she was—went against everything she believed was right and decent.

  But as her gaze drifted over the huge field in front of the house, over the saplings that had been destroyed in the storm, she realized that she could do him a favor. If she could convince him that he needed help replanting the field just as much as she needed to be here to conduct her own research, then how could that hurt? In fact, it was a win-win situation, wasn’t it? And in that case, a little lie about her name was surely forgivable, right?

  Exhilarated, she raced to her car, hauled her luggage and carryall out, mounted the steps and rapped on the solid door. No answer. Impatient, she knocked again, then tried the doorknob. It turned in her hand and, as the door swung inward, the dog raced past and into the house.

  From somewhere inside, the sound of a muffled shower reached her ears, accompanied by music blaring from a radio.

  “Hello?” she called, without much hope of being heard.

  The dog suddenly latched onto the hem of her dress and pulled.

  “Cut that out!” The dog released her, trotted down the hallway, stopped and looked at her expectantly.

  Well, in a way, she supposed she’d just been invited in by one of the occupants. Stepping inside, she wheeled her suitcase along the hallway. As she passed the kitchen doorway, she spotted the dog scrabbling at a low cupboard. Curious, she left her luggage, backtracked and entered the kitchen.

  From across the kitchen table, Anthea peered through the other doorway and recognized the closed bathroom door where all the noise was coming from. The same door, she hoped, that led to her mother’s jade earring. But it was occupied and she’d have to wait.

  She shrugged and took a seat at the head of the table. The dog whined and, as she glanced at it, shoved its nose in an empty stainless steel food bowl and pushed it along the floor. Obviously, the thing was hungry.

  “Okay, Lassie. Where’s the food?”

  Amazed, she watched the dog shoot across to a cupboard and paw at it before looking at her with a stare that could only mean one thing.

  Anthea scraped her chair back and sauntered over. The dog wagged its tail with enthusiasm as she opened the cupboard door and found a huge bag of kibble. After dragging it across the floor, she hefted it up and tipped it toward the stainless steel bowl. The contents shifted. Kibble erupted from the almost full bag, overfilled the bowl and sent stray pieces shooting across the tiled floor.

  “Oops,” she said, scooping handfuls of kibble into the bag. With most of it back where it belonged, she figured the dog would find and eat any pieces she missed.

  Watching the animal munch on the food, her own stomach rumbled. In her haste to get to Cole’s early, she hadn’t bothered with breakfast. As her stomach grumbled again, she realized she’d also forgotten to eat dinner the night before.

  Ignoring the stray bits of kibble scattered about the floor, she found a box of cereal in an overhead cupboard and sloshed milk into a bowl at the counter. As she made her way to the table, the radio grew louder. She glanced toward the sound and stopped in her tracks.

  The bathroom door stood open, the radio blaring from within. As steam escaped the room, Cole materialized through the mist. Wet and naked, he dried himself while happily singing along to the tune on the radio.

  Captivated, Anthea watched the muscles in his back and arms flex as he vigorously rubbed his hair. Rooted to the spot, she knew it was wrong, but seemed incapable of averting her eyes. Her gaze slid south to his firm buttocks, over his lean, well-defined thighs. The dark hairs on his legs glistened with water and, as she watched, he swiveled toward her. How could she help but raise her eyes?

  Her face burned as she realized what he’d probably been doing in the shower while she waited. But that wasn’t the only reason heat rose to her face. She knew that if their positions were reversed, she’d be mortified to have a man ogle her without her knowledge. Still, she couldn’t look away.

  And then he strode from the bathroom and disappeared along the hallway. Stunned, she stared at the empty bathroom. That’s when the dog decided to touch its cold, wet nose to the back of her knee. Startled, she only barely managed to restrain a scream and keep the cereal bowl from flying out of her grip.

  “Please don’t do that,” she hissed at the dog. Unable to trust her unsteady legs to make the few steps to the head of the table, she sat on the closest chair and silently set her bowl on the table with a trembling hand.

  After waiting in stunned silence, she soon heard Cole’s heavy footsteps on the polished floorboards. Dressed in work pants and a white T-shirt, he entered the kitchen with a glass of water.

  Walking past the head of the table, he promptly stubbed his toes on the chair she’d left pushed out.

  “Jesus!” he cursed through clenched teeth. As he hopped on one foot, he landed on a hard piece of kibble, which shot out from under him on the slippery tiles. The glass of water flew from his hand and shattered on the floor as he made a grab for the fridge handle, just managing to keep himself upright. “What the hell?”

  Anthea stared at him in amazement. “I guess you’re no Helen Keller.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. What on earth was wrong with her?

  Cole froze in shock. “Who the hell’re you?” he demanded.

  “Ah.” She took a deep breath, tried to stay calm. She could make up for that rude, insensitive remark if she played her cards right. Self-deprecation might do the trick. “It’s me again. The pain in the butt from the storm. The hail, the piggyback—”

  “Yeah, I know who you are. So what, you’re not satisfied with trespassing on my land? You have to break into my home too?”

  He looked like he might throttle her. How was she supposed to convince him to let her stay if she still made him as mad as she had when they went to school together?

  “Of course not,” she said in the calmest tone she could manage. “The door was open and… well, I think I lost an earring when I dried off yesterday. It means a lot to me and—”

  “Find the bloody thing, then get the hell outta here.” He crouched, cautiously searched the floor, and plucked up pieces of broken glass.

  “Wait. Let me do that,” she offered.

  “Just leave. Now.”

  “No!” she yelled too late as his palm came down on a jagged shard protruding from the base of the broken glass. He jerked his hand back, but the damage was done.

  “You’ve cut yourself,” she said.

  “Guess that makes you a genius. Now get out.”

  Ignoring him, she hurried to his side and gripped his wrist. He wrenched away, stood and tossed the glass he’d collected into the sink.

  “I’m fine,” he said, his anger barely contained. “Now leave.”

  She backed away as he took a wide berth around the glass on the floor, stepped to the sink, turned on the faucet and held his bleeding hand under the running water.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think you stepped on a piece of dog food. I don’t understand why it didn’t eat it.”

  “If it’s not in Meg’s bowl, she won’t touch it. So, how many different ways do I have to say it? Leave.”

&nb
sp; Guilty, knowing the whole debacle had been her fault, Anthea hurried into the bathroom, swung open the medicine cabinet and found a small first-aid kit. Even if he didn’t know who she was, she might have just blown her chances of convincing him she should stay. Damn it. Before returning to the kitchen, she dropped to her hands and knees and searched the bath mat. It only took a minute to find the jade earring and pluck it from deep within the pile. She couldn’t find the stud’s backing, but that would be easy to replace.

  When she entered the kitchen, she could see the tension and anger in Cole’s shoulders. And who could blame him?

  “Found the first-aid kit,” she said, keeping her voice light as she skirted the mess on the floor and stood beside him. “Here, take my arm. Let me fix you up.”

  Cole dried his hands on a tea towel, his face a dark scowl. “I think you’ve done quite enough.”

  Okay, he wanted to be stubborn. Fine. “You want to slip on this mess and split your head open next?”

  He scoffed as he edged past her and sat at the table.

  She followed, chose a seat beside him and opened the first-aid kit.

  “I can do this myself,” he informed her.

  It was her turn to scoff. She grabbed his wrist, and when he didn’t pull away, said, “You couldn’t even walk in here without a catastrophe.”

  “Only because you’ve done who knows what to my kitchen.”

  Anthea stuck her tongue out at him. She knew it was immature, but who cared? No one was there to see. Gently, she placed his injured hand palm up on her thigh and inspected the cut. “I think you need stitches.”

  Frustrated, Cole thumped his other hand on the table and bumped her cereal bowl. He frowned, touched it. “What’s this?”

  “Breakfast,” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible while she placed some gauze over the nasty cut on his palm.

  “Make yourself at home why don’t you?”