‘I’m going to ring them again now.’ Reece had followed the doctor’s instructions faithfully, using sterile gloves and scissors from the specially supplied medical chest, and the placenta had come away easily—thank God—but he wanted to double-check that he hadn’t overlooked anything.
‘You want to put lights out on the landing strip?’ his father asked. ‘I’ll get the tins from the shed.’
Reece blinked. This was the first cooperative gesture his dad had made in ages. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make use of it. He shook his head. ‘It’s too wet for the plane to land.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m sure we could all use a cup of tea.’
* * *
Jess was too stirred to sleep. Part of her mind was constantly worrying about Alan, while the rest of her thoughts were leaping with excitement. And she couldn’t close her eyes because she didn’t want to stop gazing in awe at the tiny sleeping beauty beside her. Reece had helped her to bath the baby. She’d been nervous of the tiny body, as slippery as a frog, but he’d been calm and gentle and sure.
Jess had dried her then, and wrapped her in strips of sheeting, because they had no nappies, while Reece fashioned a makeshift cot by padding a drawer with blankets and setting it on two chairs beside Jess’s bed.
So now the baby was right there, at eye level and touching close, which was perfect. And Jess had chosen her name—Rosie Millicent Cassidy.
‘Millicent after my grandmother. And Rosie because it’s a bit like Reece,’ she’d announced as she’d sat, propped by a bank of pillows and sipping hot, sweet tea.
A dark red stain crept up Reece’s neck. ‘You know, you don’t have to name her after me.’
‘I don’t feel obliged, but you did save us from the worst possible nightmare. And anyway, Rosie is a pretty name.’
Reece looked down at the sleeping baby. ‘Actually, she looks a bit like a half-opened rose.’
Jess grinned. ‘That’s a very poetic comment. Not quite what I expected from a cattleman. But it’s true. She’s pink and a little bit crumpled still, and sort of folded like rose petals.’
He smiled and shook his head at her and their gazes linked for a shade too long. He had the loveliest dark chocolate eyes, and Jess thought, momentarily, If only... And then she was ashamed of herself.
Perhaps Reece noticed. He moved to the door. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, and thanks again. For everything.’
‘If you need me, call. I won’t be far away and I’m a light sleeper.’
Jess felt strangely alone after he’d left. Outside the rain had slowed to a fine, dripping drizzle. She finished her tea, set the mug aside and settled down in the bed. Her body was exhausted. She really should try to get some sleep before Rosie woke again.
She closed her eyes. The house was very quiet and outside there was just a background whisper of rain. She hoped Alan was safely in an ambulance, speeding to a hospital. She had no idea where the nearest hospital might be. She wondered if he would need to be airlifted to the coast...and she wondered when she would be able to tell him about Rosie...
Perhaps she drifted off to sleep, but she roused quickly when she heard the swish of tyres in puddles, and then a vehicle pulling up outside. Footsteps and voices. Men speaking quietly and at some length.
Jess wondered if it was the police, or an ambulance. Had they come for her? She sat up and switched on a bedside lamp and, of course, she checked on Rosie, pressing her hand gently to the baby’s back to make sure she was still warm and breathing. Rosie wriggled and made a snuffling protest.
‘Sorry,’ Jess whispered. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you.’
Footsteps approached from down the hallway. A soft tap sounded on her door.
‘Come in,’ she called.
Reece appeared, wearing an unbuttoned shirt that hung loose over his jeans, giving a hint of his broad chest with a smattering of dark hair, and a finely tapered waist. ‘Sergeant Bryant is here, Jess. He apologises for the late hour, but he’d like to speak to you.’
She was suddenly scared and she felt a little sick as the policeman stepped into the room. He didn’t look threatening, however. He was middle-aged, balding and thickset and his expression was one of almost fatherly concern.
‘Good evening, Mrs Cassidy.’
‘Hello, Sergeant.’
He nodded towards the cot and smiled. ‘I believe congratulations are in order.’
‘Thank you.’
He stepped closer. ‘She’s a little sweetie, isn’t she? It’s been a big night for you.’
‘It has rather.’ Jess swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. ‘Have—have you seen my husband?’
Sergeant Bryant dropped his gaze and cleared his throat and in that moment Jess knew, even before he spoke.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.
‘He’s d-dead?’
‘I’m afraid he is.’
At some primitive level, she had probably known all along, but until now she’d never allowed herself to think it was actually possible. But faced with the horrible truth, Jess felt strangely numb. She’d run the full gamut of her emotions tonight and it was almost as if there was nothing left to feel right at this moment...
She couldn’t even squeeze out a tear, but she knew the grief would come...later...
‘At some stage I’ll need to talk to you about the accident,’ the sergeant said. ‘But I won’t bother you tonight.’
She nodded.
‘The rain’s almost stopped, so I’m hoping that the ambulance will be able to get through in another few hours,’ he went on. ‘It will bring you back to Dirranbilla. You’ll be able to see a doctor. And then we can talk.’
He looked into the cot again and his face creased in a soft smile and then he left her.
Jess lay dazed, unable to focus on anything except the news that in another few hours...she would be leaving. She would be starting a new life.
How strange... For a short space of time this simply furnished room had been a little sanctuary for her and for Rosie...a safe haven from the wild night...and from the real world where all her savings were lost and accidents happened and husbands died...
Reece had been so kind. He’d delivered Rosie so beautifully. But in another few hours...
She would be gone...and the cruel irony was, she would be a single mum, after all.
CHAPTER THREE
2/56 Mary Street,
Edmonton, Cairns
3rd March
Dear Reece,
Once again, thank you, although I know thanks aren’t enough. Rosie and I owe you our lives. I will write again properly when I have more time, but I wanted you to know that Alan’s funeral was yesterday and I’m managing OK.
I thought you might like this photo of Rosie. She’s growing already, isn’t she?
Warmest wishes and masses of gratitude,
Jess.
2/56 Mary Street,
Edmonton, Cairns
25th April
Dear Reece,
Thank you so much for the pink teddy bear and the little sleep suit dotted with roses. They are so cute—and such a kind thought. I cried when they arrived. I should be sending you gifts. I owe you so much. One day, I promise I’ll repay you.
At least I can tell you that Rosie is thriving. She’s filling out nicely and she doesn’t wake too often, although she sometimes takes a bit of settling, especially in the evenings. Still, I can’t complain.
She’s started smiling. You’ve no idea how cute her smiles are. Once she starts, she just keeps on smiling as if she thinks the whole world is hilarious.
Thanks again and warmest wishes,
Jess
4a/89 Potts Street,
Redlynch, Cairns
16th June
Dear Reece,
Another big thank you from Rosie and me. What a lovely surprise to open your parcel and to find your note and the gorgeous board books. Rosie loves picture books and these are perfect.
I showed her the
cows and the pigs and the turkeys and told her all about your farm—not that I saw much. She squealed and crowed and bashed at the pages with her fat little fingers, which is her way of showing how much she loves something.
You’re probably sick of seeing photos of her, but here’s one more. You can see she’s quite roly-poly now. Please ignore how I look. I was a bit tired that day and I hadn’t washed my hair, but then, you’ve seen me at my worst, haven’t you?
Reece, I hope all is well with you. You didn’t actually say much in your concise and slightly cryptic note. Mind you, that’s not a criticism.
For ever in your debt,
Jess
* * *
REECE opened the door to his father’s room—just a crack—and made sure the old man was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and snapped its lid. Tipping his head, he took a draught, letting the icy lager slide down his throat.
He pushed the flyscreen door and went through to the veranda, propped his elbows on the railing and stared out at the paddocks that stretched long and flat to the distant line of trees. He thought again about Jess.
She made out that she was fine in her letters, but something wasn’t right—he was sure of it. To begin with, she had no computer or phone for sending emails, and now she’d changed her street address. On the surface, that was probably no big deal—although a single mum moving house with a young baby couldn’t be a picnic—but it was the photo that really bothered him.
He took it again from his shirt pocket and stepped into a circle of light to examine it carefully. The baby Rosie was as roly-poly and cute as Jess claimed. Reece found himself smiling as he recognised the same features he’d first witnessed on the night she was born, now filling out.
But he was shocked by the change in the young mother. Jess was so thin, with dark shadows under her eyes, and no sparkle to her smile. She’d claimed she was just tired, but to him she looked ill, or worried. Or both.
You’ve seen me at my worst.
Not so, Reece thought, remembering her flushed cheeks and bright eyes as she greeted her baby for the first time.
Admittedly, becoming a widow and a mother on the very same night would be a terrible strain for any woman, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Jess Cassidy was carrying an extra burden.
On top of his worries about his father, it was enough to keep him awake long into the night.
* * *
At the first lull in the café’s morning chaos, Jess gave in to her fear. Ducking out of her boss’s line of sight, behind the big commercial refrigerator in the back kitchen, she rang the day-care centre.
‘Alana, it’s Jess Cassidy. I’m just ringing to check if Rosie is still OK?’
‘She seems fine,’ the young attendant assured her.
‘Are you sure there’s no sign of a temperature?’ Rosie had been fretful all night and Jess was terrified she was getting sick.
‘No, Jess. I knew you were worried so I’ve kept an especially close eye on her. She’s had a nice nap and she woke up quite happy.’
‘Well, that’s good to hear. She was so upset last night. All night.’
‘Perhaps she’s teething. I noticed she’s been chewing on her fists.’
‘That’s probably it. I guess it’s about time.’
‘Jess!’ roared a male voice. ‘What the hell are you up to?’
Jess spun around to find Joel Fink, her boss, glaring at her. Last time she’d looked, he’d been at the far end of the café busily chatting up his favourite female customer. ‘I—I had to make a quick phone call.’
‘Not on my time and not on my phone.’
‘It wasn’t a social call,’ Jess told him coldly, refusing to be cowed. ‘I needed to ring the day-care centre.’
‘My customers’ needs come first. And they need you to stop chatting and to feed them.’ Snatching the phone from her, he slapped an order onto the bench. ‘Two serves of strawberry pancakes. Cream, no ice cream. Get cracking.’
Lips tightly compressed, Jess got to work. Pancakes. Again. She was heartily sick of cooking breakfasts and lunches. As a fully qualified chef, she found it a breeze to produce light fluffy pancakes, or perfectly scrambled eggs and crisply fried bacon. But after almost six months of this she was bored. Just the same, this part-time job, working four days a week from six-thirty till two, was keeping a roof over her head and it was keeping Rosie fed. With Cairns’s growing unemployment problems, she knew she’d been lucky to get the work and she should be grateful.
It would help if her boss wasn’t such a cranky tight-fist. Privately, Jess called him The Cell Warder—even the menus he chose were as unimaginative as prison food. But at least this café was in walking distance of her flat, and working on Cairns’s seafront gave her occasional glimpses of palm trees and sparkling water. More importantly, the daytime working hours left her with afternoons and evenings free.
She needed to be with Rosie in the evenings. It was horrendously expensive having to put her into day-care for four days a week, but she couldn’t bear to hand her over to strangers at night.
Flipping pancakes, she promised herself she’d go to extra trouble with her own dinner tonight.
* * *
Reece was frowning as he knocked on the door of flat No 4a. The frown was partly because he was unexpectedly nervous about seeing Jess again, but also because he didn’t like the idea of her living in this shabby, almost squalid building with peeling paint and rusted downpipes and rubbish bins littering the footpath.
His spirits sank lower when no one answered his knock.
A neighbour leaned out of a grimy window to stare at him. He walked over to her. ‘I’m looking for Jess Cassidy.’
The young woman blew cigarette smoke. ‘She’s at work.’
‘Where does she work?’
‘No idea.’ She narrowed her eyes at Reece, showing her distrust of him and making it patently clear that she wouldn’t tell him even if she knew. ‘She’s gone most weekdays, though.’
‘Thank you,’ he said with excessive politeness, but as he walked away his worries about Jess multiplied.
Why was she working nearly every day? And where was Rosie? When Jess had written that she was ‘managing OK’, he’d wondered if perhaps she had to be frugal, but he’d still pictured her at home with her baby, living comfortably, if carefully, on her husband’s insurance money.
Of course, Jess’s living conditions were none of his business. Truth was, he hardly knew Jess Cassidy, and yet he’d been present at an intensely personal, pivotal moment in her life. They’d been through an emotionally charged ordeal together, and when Rosie was born they’d shared an exhilarating triumph. He’d felt connected.
Four months later, he still felt connected. It was a big deal for a man with precious few connections.
* * *
When he came back at six-thirty he saw, to his relief, that a light was on in Jess’s flat. He could hear music playing a soothing, bluesy tune, and tempting cooking aromas wafted through an open window.
The tension inside him loosened a notch. Seemed Jess was all right, after all.
When he knocked, the door opened slowly and Jess stood before him with Rosie balanced on her hip. He was conscious of her slim, pale arms wrapped around the baby. She was wearing faded jeans and a soft pink T-shirt, and her dark hair was twisted into a loose knot. She was definitely thinner than before and she looked tired. On the other hand, her daughter looked plump and thriving.
At first, Jess’s expression was guarded, almost defensive, but then she recognised him and her mouth formed an O of surprise.
‘Hello, Jess.’
Rosie cooed at him and Jess smiled cautiously.
‘I was in town,’ Reece explained. ‘I had to bring my father to the hospital for tests. He’s being kept in overnight and I thought I’d drop by, to say hello.’
‘It good to see you.’ Jess hitched the baby a little higher. ‘I hope your dad�
��s going to be all right.’
‘Thanks. It’s hard to say at this stage.’ Reece was holding a bunch of flowers wrapped in lavender tissue, but he felt suddenly uncertain about the appropriateness of bringing flowers. They had looked so bright and appealing, sitting in a bucket on the footpath, but now he wondered if Jess would think he was trying to be romantic.
‘Rosie looks well,’ he said, proffering, instead, the brightly wrapped gift he’d bought for the baby. ‘I thought she might like this.’
‘Reece, you’ve already been so kind.’ With an embarrassed, almost wincing smile, Jess stepped back. ‘You’d better come in.’
It wasn’t the most welcoming invitation, but he went in, anyway. The flat was small and simply furnished with a tiny, rudimentary kitchen, a small table, two chairs and a single blue sofa. A door led to what he assumed was a bedroom. Everything was very clean.
‘Take a seat.’ Jess pointed to the sofa.
Uncertain what to do with the flowers, Reece set them on the table and sat at one end of the couch while Jess sat at the other end with Rosie, balancing the baby and the gift in her lap.
‘Look what Reece has brought for you,’ she said in a deliberately cheery voice, and the baby’s hands swiped and patted at the wrapping paper as Jess peeled it away.
‘Oh, wow!’ she exclaimed as the brightly coloured toy was revealed.
‘I’m told it’s a chime garden,’ Reece said and almost immediately Rosie banged a bright purple flower and was rewarded by a few tinkling bars of a nursery rhyme.
The baby grinned, and banged another flower, releasing more music, and Jess’s face broke into a lovely smile. ‘How clever. It’s absolutely gorgeous, Reece. And the perfect toy for her age.’
The Cattleman's Special Delivery Page 3