It was perfect.
The beds of moss...
If Oliver wasn’t here...
‘There is a downside to playing families,’ Jack said dryly, and she blushed and he put his hands up and caught her as she slid from Rocky’s back—and she knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking.
‘Swim,’ he said, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Second best but it’ll have to do.’
‘It’s a pretty poor second,’ she retorted, and he hugged her and kissed her and Oliver turned round and saw them and sighed.
‘Yuck. Aren’t you two swimming?’
‘Something beginning with S,’ Alex managed, hugging Jack right back. Thinking surely this could work. Surely demons could be exorcised to make a happy ever after. ‘Three things. Something beginning with S, then something with P and then something starting with S, as well.’
‘Swim, picnic and sleep?’ Jack demanded, still holding her.
‘Sleep?’ Oliver demanded, astounded. ‘Who’d sleep here? Let’s go.’
* * *
They swam their hearts out. Oliver adored the cave, declaring it his own secret hiding place, ducking in and out through the falls. Alex organised silly, active duck diving games and had them all playing. They clambered from plateau to plateau of the falls, following the course of the water. They explored every inch of this magic place.
Finally they ate their picnic. Alex curled up on the rug Jack had packed, snuggled Oliver to her—and to Jack’s astonishment Oliver did snuggle—and they both closed their eyes.
Alex was sort of leaning against Jack.
Oliver was sort of leaning against Alex.
Family?
‘I want to be like this for ever,’ Oliver murmured, half asleep. ‘Alex can be my mum and Jack will be my dad and I’ll have a family.’
And with those few words, Alex felt things change. She could feel tension slam into Jack. The lovely, sensuous, sun-washed sleepiness was gone, just like that.
‘Brenda’s your mother.’ Jack said it mildly but Alex knew it was far from mild. She could feel the stress.
‘She doesn’t want me,’ Oliver said. He still sounded half asleep but he was matter-of-fact about it. He sounded as if he trusted them both, that they were simply an extension of him talking to himself. ‘I hear her on the phone. She’s got my dad’s phone number now and she tells him he has to come and get me. She says, “He’s a great kid. You’re a louse for leaving us but for dumping him... He’s not my kid, Brian, and if you think I’m taking him on so you can swan round playing the bachelor... End of the month or it’s social services.” And I don’t know what social services are.’
The parroting of Brenda’s voice was sickening. The whole statement was sickening.
How to respond?
‘I guess it means your dad will come and get you by the end of the month,’ Alex said, trying to sound sure.
‘He doesn’t want me,’ Oliver said, snuggling further on her knee. She was stroking his hair, and he was soaking her warmth and touch like a puppy might. A lone puppy.
‘He hasn’t talked to me since he left,’ he said, almost matter-of-factly. ‘Last time Brenda talked to him she said “Do you want to talk to him?” and he hung up. But this is so nice.’
And he closed his eyes, like he’d put the conversation away from him as something that no longer affected him—and he went to sleep.
They were left in the sleepy, sun-baked silence. The sound of the waterfall behind them was a gentle wash, a soothing message that all was right with a world that obviously wasn’t. The horses were grazing lazily on the lush, grass-coated banks, and the sun-dappled shade gave them the perfect place to sleep themselves.
Alex was still leaning against Jack. She’d been feeling incredibly soporific.
Now all she could feel was his tension.
‘I can’t,’ Jack said as the silence stretched out. As he became sure Oliver was asleep. As they both accepted the unanswered question that hung. He sounding stressed to breaking point. ‘I could never—’
‘I don’t think I could myself,’ Alex said cautiously. To take on the parenting of a child such as this one? She was twenty-six years old. She had no idea how to raise a child.
‘It takes a village to raise a child,’ she whispered. ‘I read that somewhere.’
‘And he has no one.’
‘His dad...’
‘I’ll hunt the—’ Jack stopped himself but she glanced at his face and she thought it was just as well Brian wasn’t in range right now. ‘I’ll hunt him down and make him do what he has to do.’
‘How do you force him to love his son?’ Alex’s fingers were still lightly stroking Oliver’s hair. Jack was leaning against the smooth rock face and she was lying against his shoulder. She knew this man so well now, she thought. She’d been sleeping in his arms for almost a month. She knew his body, his smile, his laughter, his depth for loving—and yet she also knew his fear.
He’d failed his sister on his terms. To commit himself to that sort of caring again...
She knew he couldn’t. She knew when her six months were up he’d let her go, and she knew he’d let Oliver go now.
Social services? Or the responsibility of Jack caring for another life?
But if Jack couldn’t, then who?
The question drifted in her mind, demanding an answer.
Who?
Maybe she could. She was starting to love this needful child, this kid who was brave and cheeky—and alone.
Was she crazy? How could she? She wasn’t even a resident in this country. To take Oliver back to the US...?
There was surely no way a single American woman could adopt an eleven-year-old Australian. No way in the world.
And Oliver wouldn’t want it.
It takes a village. Or two people.
She and Jack?
Jack couldn’t commit, even to her.
‘If I shift very gently, I can wiggle you back so you’re leaning where I’m leaning,’ Jack said, already starting to carefully shift. ‘I need to go for a walk.’
‘Without us?’ she asked, and she knew she sounded desolate but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
‘Without you,’ he said heavily. ‘Alex, some things are just too hard.’
* * *
The ride home was made in heavy silence. Alex had hoped that Oliver’s request had been a sleepy half dream, a vague, childish notion that he’d forget with the rest of a child’s dreams. Instead he rode stolidly home between the two of them, he helped rub down the horses in unaccustomed silence and finally he backed away, preparatory to heading home. No. Heading back to Brenda’s. They all knew he didn’t think of Brenda’s as his home.
‘You’re not going to, are you?’ he asked in a tiny sulky voice that sounded nothing like him. He sounded scared and Alex’s heart melted.
And she knew what the question meant. You’re not going to care.
‘Oliver, I’m going back to America,’ she told him, glancing at Jack’s grim face and then glancing away fast. ‘I’m only here for a while. My family lives in the States.’
‘We could be a family.’ It was a desperate plea, but his face said he knew before he uttered the words what the answer would be.
‘Mate, your dad’s your family,’ Jack said, and he walked forward and gripped Oliver’s thin shoulders. It was meant to be a gesture of reassurance but Alex saw Oliver flinch. Like he knew what was coming. ‘Alex has her mum and dad in New York. You have your dad in Brisbane—he’s having an extended holiday now but he’ll be back. And I have my horses. We don’t fit together.’
We could, Alex thought, though the idea was terrifying. Taking on an eleven-year-old... But with Jack?
It takes a village... If she had Jack, she’d
consider herself a village.
‘It’s all right,’ Oliver said, but of course it wasn’t.
He turned and raced into the dusk.
‘Let me drive you home,’ Jack called after him, but he was already gone.
* * *
That night they lay in each other’s arms but things had changed. Things were different.
Things were finished.
It was as if the voicing of Oliver’s dream had killed hers.
She’d let herself dream.
She lay cradled in Jack’s arms; she knew he wanted her, she wanted him with all her heart, but the damage to this man was heart-deep.
He was loving her now against his will.
He stirred a little and she realised he was awake, looking down at her, troubled as she was.
‘Alex?’
‘You’ll let me go,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know what else to do.’
‘You could let me stay,’ she whispered back. ‘I’d cling like a limpet. I’d care for your horses for ever, mend your verandas.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’d love you. I think...I think I already do. The only thing is, you’d have to love me back.’
‘I do,’ he said softly, but she shook her head.
‘Not all of me. Not the me who demands you care for whatever comes with me.’
And he knew what she meant.
The silence stretched on. On and on.
Decision time? Time for the truth. This wasn’t just about Oliver. This was about...everything.
‘You’d want kids,’ he said at last, into the stillness. He was still holding her but there was nothing relaxed about this man. He sounded stretched to breaking. She held him close, skin against skin. She could feel his heart beating against her breast, but it wasn’t in rhythm with hers. His heart was pounding.
This was such a big deal....
I should lie, she thought. I could make it just about us. If I can make him love me... Care for me... Commit to me... Then everything else could follow.
But the question was out there, a biggie. To have children...to not have children...
Her father hadn’t wanted Matt and Ellie, and what damage had been done by that lack of care?
‘Maybe,’ she admitted. ‘Not right away but yes, maybe I would. And I’d definitely want a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, Jack Connor?’
‘Dogs need you.’
‘Like horses.’
‘Not the same way.’
‘Yeah, they look at you with great big soulful eyes, something like the way I’m looking at you,’ she said.
‘Don’t look at me like that.’
‘I have been for a month,’ she whispered, trying hard to keep it light. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m smitten.’
‘You’d ask me—’
‘To care for me,’ she said softly, knowing there was only room for truth. ‘Yes, I would. And I’d also ask you to care for Oliver and any stray dog I brought home and also any kids we might or might not agree to have. But mostly, Jack, loving you means I want to be loved back. Despite nothing. I’ll give you all of my heart, but it’s unconditional and if you can’t give that back...’
‘I can’t.’ The words were wrenched out of him and she flinched.
‘Your sister died,’ she said, coldly now because that was the way she was feeling. Exposed and fragile and a little bit angry. Or maybe more than a little bit angry. What was he doing, taking her to his bed every night, loving her with his body, holding her with such tenderness, when it meant nothing? ‘Does Sophie’s death mean what’s between us is dead, too?’
‘It never really lived,’ he said, and that was where she drew her line in the sand. Something inside her died a little, right there.
She tugged away, out of his bed. She grabbed the top quilt and wrapped it round her in a gesture of pure defence.
‘What was I thinking?’ she whispered. He sat up and reached for her but she backed away. ‘Don’t.’
‘Alex.’
‘You can’t have it both ways,’ she managed. ‘I didn’t seduce you. We fell into each other’s arms because we needed each other. Or I thought we needed each other. But if you can’t...’
‘Maybe I can,’ Jack said, sounding desperate. ‘If it’s just you.’
‘There isn’t a just me.’ Her anger got the better of her then, her history, the letter from Ellie, the sourness that underscored her family. ‘That’s what my father did. He married my mother—but he only married her. There’s never been a doubt that he loved her to bits, but she came with strings. She was carrying another man’s twins. I’m not carrying twins but I am carrying baggage. I’ve fallen for a kid called Oliver and if I lived here I’d want to be involved, right up to my neck. I’d want a dog or maybe three. I’d bring home injured wildlife and when and if they died, I’d cry my heart out. And yes, I’d want kids. All those things, Jack, all of them, I’d expect, want, know that you’d share, and you’d share not because you cared for me because that’s what my father did and it didn’t work, but because your heart was big enough to care for the whole crazy menagerie.’
‘Alex...’
‘Don’t “Alex” me,’ she said, backing into the doorway, and she was really yelling now. ‘This is what I should have said a month ago. I didn’t have it sorted in my head but today...today I wanted to care for Oliver so much, but I wanted us to care. That’s what we could be. Jack and Alex. Joined in the caring department. But it’s not going to happen.’
‘I don’t know how.’
‘And I don’t know how to teach you,’ Alex said, flatly now, passion spent and only desolation left. ‘My mother couldn’t teach my father in all their years of marriage, so what hope do I have? I think...I think we quit this now, Jack. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. If we can’t work together on these terms, then I leave.’
‘You can’t leave.’
‘I should,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t want to. So...so I’ll stay a little longer. But in my bedroom. In my work. If I didn’t think Cooper would have kittens, I’d move into the worker’s cottage with him, only—’
‘There’s no need to be ridiculous.’
‘There’s not, is there,’ she said sadly. ‘But there is a need to be sensible. That’s what we have to be. Starting now.’
She turned and tried for a dignified exit. It didn’t happen. She tripped on a corner of the trailing quilt. Jack was out of bed before she fell, catching her, steadying her. Holding her.
She let him hold her for a full minute, savouring the strength, the warmth, her sheer need of this man she’d come to know and love. And then, somehow, she managed to pull away.
She turned and walked down the passage with as much dignity as she could muster.
She hoped he’d call her back.
She hoped he’d follow.
He didn’t.
* * *
He lay in the dark and missed her. He missed her warmth, the feel of her skin on his, her breath, her tiny movements, the knowledge that he’d let go a woman who could love him.
Who would love him, if she was to be believed.
Why wouldn’t he believe Alex?
He wanted her. He was hungry for her with a depth he’d never known it was possible to feel.
It was too late to think he couldn’t care for her—he knew that he did. When he held her he felt at peace, and the look on her face as she’d backed from the room was well nigh unbearable. That she’d break her heart over him...
She was young, he told himself savagely. Her family was from the other side of the world. She’d go home and she’d get over whatever she was thinking about him.
She’d get over loving him.
So why was that the desirable option? Why did he lie in his be
d here and not lunge after her, take her in his arms, love her, promise himself to her, marry her...
It wasn’t just Alex.
Loving Alex was commitment enough. To open himself to the vortex of caring, the great, sweet whirlpool that was love, where he cared and cared but could never care enough... Knowing the pain would come eventually, no matter what he did...
That was dumb. The logical part of him knew that what he’d felt for Sophie, what he’d tried to do, what had happened, was nothing to do with how he felt for Alex. But still, loving her, holding her, there was that same sense of standing on a ledge waiting for the world to tilt, so inevitably that falling must happen.
Coward.
He said it to himself out loud and it echoed around the big and empty room with a hollowness that echoed what he was feeling in his heart. You’re condemning yourself to...nothing.
You’re giving Alex the chance to find happiness with someone who deserves her.
Why was that a good option? He could try to hold her. He’d love her and protect her and care...
And she’d demand that he do the same for Oliver and more. Dogs?
Kids.
Children, dependent on him. Children, when he’d never been able to care for Sophie. He’d looked after her from the time she was six.
Children.
His mind simply blanked at the thought. To bring children into the world, to have someone so utterly dependent...
He thought of Oliver’s set face. The pain...
Not Your Problem.
Selfish?
Yeah, maybe he was, but how much better to say at the beginning I can’t, rather than stand at a graveside and say I’ve failed?
But the look on Alex’s face...
No.
The moon outside slipped behind a cloud and the night grew darker. Alex was just down the passage. Distressed. Coming to terms with his cowardice.
She had to do it sometime, he thought grimly. There was no choice.
Taming The Brooding Cattleman Page 15