No Place Like You

by Marnie St Clair

  ‘You want a fish you can keep?’

  ‘Why else would I fish?’ She frowned. ‘We always kept our catch when we were kids.’

  ‘Yeah, well. We were kids.’

  He came to stand close, watching her fiddle around clumsily with the rod and line. It’d been a while between fishing trips, and she was sure it showed.

  ‘Try a smaller lure. It’s still cold.’

  ‘Believe me, I’ve noticed.’ She bent down to inspect the tackle box, looked for a bit of coloured plastic that might be more suitable. ‘How about this one?’

  ‘Not too bad.’ He crouched down beside her, close, and retrieved another. ‘This one’s better.’

  He passed it to her, and the long fingers of his big, tanned hands brushed hers. They were warm. He was warm. She’d been cold all day and he was so warm. Insane, but she had a moment where she wanted to slip her hand into his. As if he sensed her thoughts—her crazy, irrational desire to get close—he stood and moved back a step.

  ‘I take it you didn’t know the land had been sold?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No one told you, when the house passed to you?’

  ‘No.’ Had anyone told her? Or tried to tell her? Between her grief at losing her mother and her general lack of interest in all matters financial and legal, she’d probably ignored any attempts. ‘You own it all now?’

  ‘Everything except for a hectare or so surrounding the house.’

  So, she did still own the house. That was something. But the rest belonged to Josh now. Josh and his business partners. ‘What happened?’

  He shrugged. ‘Elisabeth wanted to sell, we were looking to buy.’

  She realised with a jolt that meant Josh had probably talked to her mother more recently than she had. Lily could count on one hand the number of times she’d had contact with her in the years prior to her death. When her parents had split for good, shortly after that last summer, Elisabeth had run off to Byron Bay, then to Bali, and then to Turkey. And Lily’d been left with her father. He loved her, she supposed, as much as he was capable of loving anyone, but … He just wasn’t there. Rarely physically present, and never emotionally. She still didn’t like the things her mother had done—the cheating—but Lily had started to sympathise.

  Now, of course, it was too late.

  ‘It’s good land,’ Josh continued, drawing her back to the moment. ‘Though it’s going to take a couple of years to get the pastures back up to scratch.’

  She considered that as she cast out the line. It was good, she decided, that Josh had bought the land. Good to think it was being used productively. She wouldn’t have a clue about any of that stuff. In fact, it had been a long time since anyone in her family had taken an active role in the farming side of Mirabook. They’d been city-dwellers for decades, using the farm for holidays and paying managers to run it. Like Josh’s father.

  ‘Might help to cast further upstream,’ Josh added.

  She reeled in, cast again, and then sat back down on her blanket, fishing rod in hand, and readied herself to wait till she snagged another one. Hopefully, sometime before sundown.

  Josh came to sit next to her on the blanket, arms behind propping him up, legs out in front.

  The peace was overwhelming. The gums and the river. The bird calls and the thrum of insects and God knows what other small creatures shifting and shuffling about. Leaves rustling, the occasional branch dropping. And all the time, the high white clouds meandering through the big sky above.

  She’d felt the peace and serenity before, but not anymore. She was oh-so-aware of the man next to her. She stole glances from under her lashes, eyes drawn to the long hard thighs encased in jeans, and fancied she could feel his heat reaching her. Fever mixed into her chill. She shifted a little, unsure if she was trying to move away or get closer.

  This shouldn’t be uncomfortable. How many days had they spent exactly like this? But they’d been kids then, and they weren’t kids anymore.

  And to be honest, even back then, things had changed. It had been inevitable. By that last summer, she was almost fifteen, Josh almost seventeen, and their relationship had shifted in degrees from its earlier innocence. She could feel him watching her all summer, sensed what he’d wanted when he’d looked at her with those solemn eyes. She hadn’t known what to do with it. She’d been a late bloomer, and more than a little scarred by the way things were between her parents. And then, when they’d finally kissed … She still hadn’t experienced anything to match it. An hour later, and everything was in ruins.

  Which could have something to do with why she was sitting here uncomfortable and mute.

  She should say something. She should apologise. For what she’d started, for how she’d left. He’d come to her aid and she hadn’t come to his. She owed him an apology at the very least. But his hard eyes and stony silence were a little intimidating, and she wasn’t the world’s most assertive person at the best of times. So, she’d warm up with a little genteel conversation. ‘Do you remember how we used to come here? Fish like this all day?’

  He tensed beside her. ‘No.’

  Okay then. No interest in revisiting the past, no interest in rekindling their old friendship. So much for warming up. She scrambled around for something else to say in the face of that shutdown.

  ‘I want to buy Mirabook.’

  Oh. His quiet but demanding words took her by surprise. Of all the things she’d thought he might say, that was not what she’d been expecting.

  ‘It’s not for sale.’ Funny, but she hadn’t even considered selling. The house must be worth a lot, even without the land. She could use the money to buy an apartment. Not in Sydney, she’d had enough of that place. Melbourne maybe. Even further south? Hobart? There’d be enough left to tide her over while she looked for work. She was good at her job, she knew that, so she was sure she could find something. So long as she wasn’t looking in Sydney.

  Even as she mulled the possibility over, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Mirabook had been in her family for six generations. She couldn’t just sell it. It’d have to get a lot worse than tinned baked beans before she got to that point.

  ‘What are you doing here, Lily?’ The question was casual enough, but she picked up on the underlying intensity.

  ‘Fishing. What does it look like I’m doing?’ He cut her a sharp glance, and she gave him a half-smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I be here?’

  This is where she’d been happiest. The only place she’d really been happy. Which kind of implied that Josh was the only person she’d been happy with, because what was Mirabook without Josh? The two went hand-in-hand, always had. ‘It’s my home,’ she added.

  And it was. The house was freezing cold, and despite all her efforts, still filthy. She was half-starved to boot. But even so, she felt more at peace here than she had in ages.

  He snorted in what she assumed was disbelief. ‘Give me a break, Lil. You haven’t been here in years.’

  ‘It’s still my home.’

  ‘I’d make it worth your while.’

  She snuck another sideways glance. Yeah, she just bet he would.

  ‘Market value plus five per cent.’

  She had a moment’s temptation. The money would solve all her problems. Or some of them, at least. Yesterday, five hundred dollars had seemed an okay sum of money to start a new life with. Last night, candles had seemed romantic. This morning, thanks to buying fuel for her gas-guzzler, she only had four hundred dollars in her account. And a situation of cold showers and out-of-date baked beans morning, noon and night was far, far from romantic. If she sold, she wouldn’t have to worry about whether fish would bite or the cost of filling her car. And if she was going to sell, it should be to Josh. He was just as connected to this place as she was. His father had been the station manager, he’d grown up here too, and he already owned the land.

  But … This was now the only link she had to her past. Everything else, everyone else, was gone. If she sold Mirabook, she’d have mo
ney, but nothing more. She’d be totally cut free from all connections, drifting through the stratosphere like an untethered balloon. Sad, scared and totally alone.

  Even more so than now.

  ‘Mirabook’s not for sale.’

  He didn’t say anything. A moment later, he stood abruptly, towering over her. He was smiling but it looked anything but friendly. ‘Good luck with the fish. Insurance paperwork is on the kitchen bench.’

  And he turned and walked away.

  Swivelling, she watched his retreat back towards the house—long, strong legs, broad shoulders, well-muscled back. Unhurried and self-assured.

  A chill ran through her, and it had nothing to do with the cold she’d been battling all day. She’d said no loud and clear. So why’d she have the feeling that this was far from over?

  Chapter 4

  ‘Sorry lunch is so long coming. We’re one down.’ Maureen offered a rare half-smile. ‘The baby came early.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Josh grinned back. ‘How are they doing?’

  ‘Little boy, strong as an ox. Seven pounds at thirty-six weeks. Coming early was a blessing. Bloody Murphys and their big heads.’

  He chuckled and grabbed one of the complimentary newspapers from the table next to him. Maureen might play the grumpy old woman routine, but he knew she regarded her waitress Kelly almost as a daughter. She’d be up visiting every spare chance she got. ‘Pass on my congratulations. And the wait’s no problem.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too much longer.’ She bustled off with the efficiency of a drill-sergeant, collecting plates and cups, taking orders as she went.

  He didn’t usually take a long lunch break—there were always farm business clients to see, work on his own properties to be done—but today he didn’t mind being forced to sit and think.

  Lily wasn’t interested in selling. He’d been mulling over that fact for days, ever since he caught her fishing on his land.

  And that was another thing—how could she not have known the land belonged to him and his partners now? Had she not even looked at the documentation? If it were him, he would have examined every sheet of paper line-by-line. Then gone over it again. Then once more for good measure. The idea that someone might not know exactly what they did and didn’t own was just incomprehensible, but then he’d never loved Lily for her practical nature.

  Now where the hell had that come from?

  But there was no point denying how he’d felt about her all those years ago. He’d been a kid, but he’d known his own feelings. He’d adored her. To the point of desperation. Waited for summer all year long, when she’d be back to sprinkle her own special version of fairy dust over him. In those endless hours, on those endless days, they’d lose themselves. The way she’d created whole worlds in her head, then brought them to life. Crystal caves and witches’ cottages. Dragon lairs filled with treasure. An alien trapped in a fallen UFO they’d tended for a whole summer. It’d been made up, but so real. The way she’d made him believe, it had really been something.

  He never would have believed in those days that things would turn out the way they did, that he’d end up hating her. He’d always thought Lily was different from her parents—but she wasn’t, she was exactly the same.

  The way the Schofields had treated Mirabook, and Yarrow, and his family was disgusting. The wild parties her mum had thrown. The way she and her guests had treated the town as some kind of drinking hole, causing havoc for months on end. And worst of all, the way her father had sacked Josh’s father after a lifetime of giving everything he had to running that place. Because Keith could, and because he’d kidded himself that made him the bigger man.

  Leaving Mirabook had killed his dad. Killed him.

  And Lily? Well, if it wasn’t for Lily, things would never have turned out that way.

  Anyway, he should be glad she didn’t know about the land, because it meant she was unlikely to know about the debt. Lucky for him it had come out at the beginning of their conversation, before he’d said anything.

  He flipped straight to the business section, and there, taking up a good half page was an article about Lily’s father, Keith, and the outcome of the drawn-out court case against him. Before long, Josh was so absorbed in reading the article, he barely noticed Maureen bringing his coffee over.

  Things were worse than he’d thought. The judge had come down hard. Really hard. The recently departed Keith had been found guilty of unconscionable conduct, and his entire estate had been seized to repay wronged investors. Apparently even Schofields had to face the consequences of their actions eventually.

  Could Lily be broke? If this article was to be believed, yes.

  He frowned. Sure, they’d had problems recently, but he had a hard time believing the Schofields didn’t have a rainy day account, tucked away somewhere. Lots of accounts.

  But then he recalled that slump in her shoulders when he’d mentioned the insurance money … If Lily had inherited nothing from Keith, and he had good reason to know she’d got nothing from her mother beyond Mirabook, then …

  This was exactly what he’d been waiting for.

  There was no way she’d be able to repay the money. Leaving her no choice but to sell. In three weeks, Mirabook would be his. All his efforts over the past few years, the debt he’d built up on the property … Finally, it was all bearing fruit. Exhilaration soared through him—relief as much as triumph.

  Elisabeth Schofield hadn’t wanted to sell either when he and his business partners had made an offer a year ago. But while she hadn’t wanted to sell, she’d happily agreed to take out a substantial loan from the partnership, using the house as security. God knows how she ever thought she’d be able to pay it back. She might have come from money, but she didn’t have any left, hadn’t worked a day in her life and, from what he’d learned of her lifestyle, had a weakness for handsome young men from third-world countries. Didn’t worry Josh. He didn’t want the money back. He wanted the house. When she’d died, he’d thought he’d lost his chance, but now it looked like Lily wasn’t going to be able to pay it back either.

  He folded the newspaper, leaned back in his chair and allowed this new reality to wash over him. It all made sense now. Lily was broke, that’s why she’d come back.

  He pictured her enormous dark eyes and her pale face when he’d told her to throw the fish back. Like she’d needed that fish.

  The comment about feeling the cold … Believe me, I’ve noticed.

  He frowned as that hit home. Was it that bad? Did she not have food?

  What was the heating situation like at Mirabook these days?

  He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable all of a sudden. Part of him, a big part of him, was always going to hate Lily for what she’d done, for who she was, but he didn’t have to like the thought of her cold and hungry. Maybe it was the way he’d been raised, but he didn’t like the thought of any woman cold and hungry.

  Maureen approached, club sandwich in hand. ‘And here we are. Finally.’

  Josh dragged his head back into the current moment. ‘Thanks. Like I said, the wait wasn’t a problem.’ In fact, the wait had been incredibly productive.

  Maureen shook her head. ‘We can’t take this long to get lunches out every day. We’ll lose customers.’

  She might be right. The last thing Yarrow needed was for one of its few success stories to start suffering. ‘Can’t you hire someone to replace Kelly?’

  ‘You’d think, wouldn’t you? Her sister was supposed to fill in for her while she’s on maternity leave, but with the baby coming early and all, she’s not due to start for another couple of weeks. I did a ring around town this morning, but didn’t get any takers.’ She looked at her watch, tutted. ‘We’re supposed to be having our committee meeting here this afternoon. At this rate, I’m going to have to call the ladies and cancel.’ She paused, and though she didn’t wear glasses, he swore it was exactly as if she was looking down at him over the top of a pair of frames. ‘Will we be graced with your presen
ce today, Joshua?’

  He’d been coerced into being a member of the Yarrow Town and Country Club Committee by his mother, who doubled as President, so that the committee had a full voting contingent, but he didn’t honestly consider himself part of it. Not that the club didn’t have his full support—it served a vital role in the life of the town—but the meetings … Being the only man at a table of women … Sure, they’d discuss club business, but they’d also discuss who in town had coloured their hair which colour, and who knew so-and-so was pregnant before her husband did.

  He missed as many meetings as possible. Besides, they didn’t really need him. Any voting tended to be unanimous.

  ‘Not today,’ he replied, ‘I already have something else lined up.’ Not strictly true, but given what he’d begun to suspect about the state of Lily’s finances, he wanted to get out to Mirabook as soon as possible. To confirm his suspicions, and to tell Lily to start packing her bags.

  Stern turned to disapproving. ‘We could do with your presence,’ Maureen scolded. ‘We have to move quickly on replacing the club hall.’

  That was a priority. An electrical fault had caused serious fire damage, and the committee had decided that rather than just replace the original building, this was a good opportunity to rebuild a bigger, better facility. Insurance money would help, but they’d need to raise further funds.

  He’d offered to cover the shortfall, discreetly, but his mother had rejected the offer. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t let him pay. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. But she kept muttering about burdens and responsibility and letting others carry some weight.

  ‘This doesn’t have anything to do with Katie, does it?’ Maureen queried with her customary bluntness. ‘Avoiding her won’t fix the problem.’

  Josh winced. He knew Katie was tight with the committee women, but surely she hadn’t shared details of their ill-conceived fling. He shuddered at the idea of them all sitting around the table dissecting it.

  ‘No.’ Not this time, though truth was, he was keeping out of Katie’s way as much as possible. ‘I’m heading out to Mirabook.’