by Trish Morey
‘Well, crap,’ she said, ‘that’s just perfect. And here I was wondering how to spend the rest of the day.’ She reversed a little and parked on the side of the road. ‘Looks like this is as far as we go, for now.’
‘Are you going to call Pop to help?’
Not likely, thought Beth, not after watching him consume half a bottle of bubbles on top of a couple of Coopers. Which he was more than entitled to on his birthday, even if at the same time it disqualified him from a call for help. ‘I’ll try Dan.’
Unfortunately, Dan was about to take Lucy out to look at some baby furniture that had been advertised and that she’d arranged to see. ‘I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘But it’ll be an hour or so.’
‘No rush,’ she told him, ‘the tree’s not going anywhere,’ and turned her mind to attacking her to-do list.
Sure enough, an hour or so later, she heard the buzz and rip of a chainsaw out front. She wondered that Dan hadn’t come up to tell her he’d arrived, but then he probably guessed she’d figure it out with that racket. She pulled a batch of raisin and oatmeal cookies from the oven that were almost a meal in themselves, letting them cool a few minutes while she made coffee for them both, because after dealing with the washing and putting on some chilli con carne sauce to simmer, she was ready for a break, too. She slipped a couple of cookies onto a plate for her brother, and the rest into a bag for him to take home. It was the least she could do for tearing Dan away from such a good news day.
The clear blue October afternoon had turned out warm, so Beth added a big glass of water to the tray before she headed down to see her brother. He was on the other side of the tree from her, she could see the back of his head with his orange ear protectors bobbing up and down as the chainsaw powered through the wood. She looked again. At least, she thought it was him.
And then the limb he was working on fell away, and he stood up straight and tall to stretch his broad back. When he looked around and saw her coming, her eyes opened wide, because it wasn’t her brother at all.
Harry?
‘Afternoon, Beth,’ he said as he peeled off his earmuffs and protective glasses, surveying the tray and her as she drew closer.
‘I made coffee,’ she said, holding out the tray, feeling like a fool. Not to mention wary. In the forefront of her mind was the fact that he’d asked her out and she’d said no, but now he’d turned up here. What was that about? ‘But I was expecting Dan and I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s white with one.’
‘Spot on,’ he said, ‘just the way I like it,’ and he put down the chainsaw and reached out a big paw of a hand to wrap around a cup.
She smiled weakly, feeling stupid, feeling trapped there with him because she’d brought her own coffee down, too, and it would have been churlish to walk back to the house with it untouched. She offered him a cookie and he took it, his free hand wrapping around it like it was an afternoon-tea-sized macaron instead of a thumping great cookie.
She put down the tray and perched herself against the trunk of the tree where he’d cleared the boughs, just a little disconcerted when he plonked his solid frame next to her. Not that there was anywhere else to sit, she told herself. ‘So how did you get roped into this? I thought Dan was coming.’
‘He called me up,’ Harry explained, halfway through the next cookie. ‘Said whatever he was doing was going to take longer than he thought, and asked if I could help. I owed him a favour, so here I am. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘How could I mind?’ she said, sipping her coffee. The man was clearing a tree fallen across her driveway. It was no surprise that Dan knew Harry. It was a small community up here, neighbours helping out neighbours. And Harry was being neighbourly, that was all.
‘Nice view you have from here,’ he said, and Beth couldn’t help but agree. The patchwork of the wide Piccadilly Valley spread out before them, fields sown with vegetables for the Adelaide markets, before the land rose to the gum-studded heights of Mount Lofty. The sun would be going down soon, the shadows and the nighttime chill would descend, but for now it was still bathing them in spring’s promising warmth, and it felt good.
‘So how do you enjoy working at the primary school?’
‘I like it, though it’s only part-time. But then I do a bit of snake catching as well, come summer—that’s starting to pick up a bit, with the weather warming. Mmm,’ he said, as he devoured the cookie. ‘These are good.’
‘There’s more. Help yourself.’
‘Seriously?’
‘And there’s a bag full to take home after if you like. I really appreciate you coming, especially on a Sunday.’
‘Not a problem,’ he said with a shrug. ‘One day’s much like any other. And it’s not like I’m abandoning anyone at home to come here.’ He said it all in such a matter-of-fact way that he wasn’t inviting sympathy. He was just stating how it was.
Harry demolished a third cookie, before he pushed himself from the fallen tree trunk and tugged his earphones from around his neck. ‘I should be getting back to work. I reckon the sooner this lump of tree is gone, the easier it will be to get your car up your driveway.’
There was no arguing with that logic. ‘Can I give you a hand?’ she found herself asking, as she tossed away the dregs of her coffee and collected the tray. ‘You chop off the branches, I’ll drag them clear of the driveway.’
He gave her a quick once-over, taking in the spotted skirt and blouse and sandals she’d worn to lunch today. ‘Nah, you don’t want to do that. I’ll be right.’
Because the job would be finished quicker with two, and Beth didn’t want him thinking her some princess who was afraid of hauling a few branches or working up a sweat, she said, ‘I’ll be right back.’
She was too, wearing boots with jeans and a checked long-sleeved shirt to keep her from getting scratched to pieces. He looked up at her return, nodded his approval and kept on working the chainsaw.
They worked side by side with him cutting and her clearing for the next two hours, until the tree had been reduced to a series of logs and the branches were stacked in two big piles alongside the driveway.
‘Phew,’ she said, arching her aching back. She turned to Harry. ‘Fancy a beer?’
He smiled his Hagrid smile and this time Beth saw mischief in it. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
A few minutes later, they were sitting on her verandah, looking out over the valley as they sipped from their longnecks.
‘I’ll be back during the week to tidy up all the bits,’ Harry said.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said.
‘A job worth doing …’ he started.
‘I’ll pay you for your time.’
‘No, like I said, I’m repaying Dan a favour. Though, I’d happily settle for another batch of those cookies.’ There was a twinkle in his eye that made her smile.
‘Deal,’ she said.
Siena had her nose in one of her pony books and Taylor Swift singing on her iPod when Beth headed inside. ‘Has he gone?’
‘Yup,’ she said from the kitchen, wondering what she’d been up to when Harry had arrived. Siena trailed in after her, sitting up on one of the stools under the breakfast bar Beth had had put in when she’d knocked out the wall between the kitchen and lounge room and turned her tiny two-bedroom cottage into something more open plan. ‘He seems nice.’
‘He does,’ Beth said, the smell of chilli reminding her. Now she just needed a salad.
‘You going to see him again?’
‘I guess so. He’s got a bit more work to do, cutting down the branches for kindling, that sort of thing. Should keep us going through winter, that’s for sure.’
There was silence for a time as Beth checked the sauce she’d left simmering on low on the stove, and sniffed her approval. Perfect. She turned to see Siena staring at her. ‘What?’
‘That’s it?’
‘Yep.’
‘Why? You said you liked him.’
Beth poked out her to
ngue. ‘No, I didn’t, cheeky. You said he seemed nice and I agreed with you.’
Siena rolled her eyes. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘There is no problem. Harry’s coming to do some work finishing off the tree. End of story. Okay?’
‘But, Mu-um, don’t you want to have a boyfriend?’
Beth was suddenly struck by inspiration and ducked into the pantry, seizing on a packet of corn chips and holding it up for inspection. Corn chips were a rare treat. ‘I think, given what a special day it is, we should do the whole nachos thing, what do you reckon?’
Siena groaned. ‘You’re hopeless, Mum,’ before she stomped away and turned Taylor up till the walls shook. Beth put the chips on the bench and sighed, before turning to the fridge, fishing out the cheese, tomatoes and lettuce.
Siena was right, she was hopeless. And, as it turned out, she did like Harry, and that had surprised her. Although not how Siena wanted, but in a companionable kind of way. They’d fallen quickly into a routine today and worked together well, and if the mischief in his eyes lent a spark to his grizzled face, why shouldn’t she notice it and like that, too?
But that was all it was, whatever fantasies Siena was spinning in her head. Being flower girl at Dan and Lucy’s wedding clearly had a lot to answer for. The girl was becoming an incurable romantic.
Beth sliced tomatoes, grated cheese and shredded lettuce. She could understand it of course. She’d been a romantic herself once. How could she not with an Italian boyfriend who’d exuded romance from his every pore.
God, was it really more than ten years? She could still remember Joe being in her life like it was yesterday. But how could she not, when every time Siena looked at her, she could see Joe in her eyes?
Beth sniffed as she gave the chilli another stir. They’d have been an old married couple by now. And there would have been more kids. Probably another one or two to keep Siena company, and Joe would be teaching them how to ride minibikes and taking them camping up the river.
They’d be a family.
And Siena thought she should date and find someone else to take the place of her father? Nobody could replace Joe. Nobody ever would. Not after what she’d done.
Siena wandered back into the kitchen, took one look at her mother and said, ‘Are you crying?’
‘Bloody chilli,’ Beth lied, swiping at her cheeks. ‘Gets me every time.’
15
Hannah
‘Oh, you’re back,’ the vet nurse said, looking up as Hannah walked through the door after a house call. ‘How’s Boo?’
‘Poor little thing,’ said Hannah, joining Verity in the small office space to write up a few notes about the small Maltese terrier, before checking the appointment book to see what tomorrow had in store. Saturdays were always busy. ‘I don’t know what she ate, but it didn’t agree with her. Fingers crossed, she’s on the mend.’
‘That’s good. Mrs Jennings was in such a state. She’d be lost without Boo. Hey,’ Verity said, picking up a scrap of paper, ‘how do you pronounce this? Mind you, not sure I’ve spelled it right.’
Hannah peered over Verity’s shoulder at the scrawled note with the botched name and felt a sizzle down her back all the way to her toes.
‘I mean,’ Verity continued, ‘what kind of name is that for a kangaroo? Shinella?’
‘It’s pronounced Shance Ella. It’s Irish, it means “second chance”.’ She looked up at the nurse, torn between fear and a secret thrill. ‘Why did Declan call? Is something wrong?’
Verity screwed up her face. ‘It was a bit weird, he was pretty vague. Asked for you, mentioned the joey might need a check-up. He didn’t say it was urgent, so I didn’t call you on your mobile, but I thought I should mention it.’
‘Yeah, thanks, glad you did. He’s not an experienced carer, I might drop in on the way home, see how the joey’s going.’
‘Probably a good idea,’ said Verity, going back to her end-of-day accounts. ‘I heard we lost one of the other joeys today, the little pinkie euro, so Jeanette has a vacancy, if you need to move it.’
‘Oh, that’s sad. She’ll be gutted. I’ll keep that in mind.’ She reached for her bag and her keys. ‘I’ll get going.’
‘See you tomorrow. Give my love to Mr Sexy Voice, won’t you?’
‘Who?’
‘That Declan fellow with the joey. Got the sexiest accent over the phone, I’ll give him that.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’
Declan didn’t seem surprised at all to see Hannah. Just raised an eyebrow as he opened the door and ushered her in. ‘How’s the joey?’ she said, wishing he’d given her a little more space at the door so she didn’t have to brush quite so closely past him. Really, the man was infuriating.
‘See for yourself,’ he invited, pointing towards the stand where the joey’s pouch hung.
‘I will. There’s a carer who lost an infant euro today. If you’re having problems, I can hand it on.’
She heard his swift intake of air and imagined him bristling behind her. Good, she didn’t want him thinking he was the one calling all the shots.
She lifted the pouch from the stand. ‘How long since she had a feed?’
‘About three hours.’
She nodded. The joey would be waking shortly anyway. She wouldn’t be disturbing her too much, if she was feeling poorly. She sat down at the roughly hewn table with the pouch on her lap and peeled back the sides past the long legs pointing out until she could find its head. ‘How are you going, sweetie?’ she said, her hands gently traversing the infant’s fur as she examined it.
But her eyes were bright and Hannah’s seeking fingers were coming up blank so far. ‘What seems to be the problem with her?’ She turned and was surprised to find Declan at her shoulder. He crouched down alongside her chair and she could damn near smell the man’s musky scent intermingled with the faint hint of coffee on his breath. Seriously beguiling. Seriously infuriating.
‘Did I say she had a problem?’
Her hands stilled, her patience at breaking point. ‘You called the surgery. You mentioned the joey might need an examination.’
‘How else did you expect me to get you over here?’
She stroked the kangaroo, her massage an apology for waking it when there was no reason. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the joey, then? You got me out here under false pretences?’
‘Not at all. It’s actually me who’s got the problem.’ She felt the air shift as he spoke softly, his scent wrapping around her, and fought to ignore the impulse to lean closer. ‘Because, for the life of me, I can’t seem to get you out of my head.’
She swallowed. He looked so earnest, his dimples replaced by the furrowing between his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not something I can help you with.’
‘No?’ he said, putting his hand over hers where she stroked the joey, sending heat spiralling up her veins. ‘But I need you to help me with it, because it’s like this.’ He took a breath as his eyes sought hers, storm-tossed blue eyes she could drown in. ‘You see, I like you, Hannah. And I’d like the chance to know you better.’
She shook her head, unable to respond in any other way. She’d thrown herself into her work, purposely avoiding showing any interest in the opposite sex. She wasn’t sure how to deal with it when it found her. So she turned to her usual defence.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she snapped, finding a shred of armour plate to hammer back on, even if she couldn’t do much about the faint tremor in her voice, or the fact that she’d made no attempt to pull her hand out from under the delicious warmth of his. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘No? Because I kind of got the impression you liked me, too.’ He curled his hand around hers, and she had to swallow to keep her frantically beating heart from leaping right out of her chest. He coaxed her to her feet and wound his free hand around her neck to draw her closer, his eyes on her mouth. And then his lips met hers, a brush, a breath, before his arms held her
close and his lips claimed hers.
Heat engulfed her, a sudden burst of heat that seemed to spring from some untapped well deep inside her, and it was all she could do to cling to him while his mouth made magic on hers. She’d never kissed a man before, not a real man. There’d been Ethan of course, who’d taken her to the Year Twelve formal, and who’d kissed her so hard his braces had cut her lip. Then sweet Sanjay in her first year of university, with whom she’d shared laughs and games of Canasta over cheap ciders at the uni bar, and who’d disappeared one summer holiday and came back married the next. And lastly there’d been James of the tall, dark looks, whom she’d fancied herself in love with—so much in love with—but in the end he’d been the biggest kid of them all.
Not one of them a real man. This kiss was different. Confident. Assured.
‘There,’ he said, putting her away from him. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
She was trembling, shaken, her cheeks burning up at the knowledge that he’d pulled out of the kiss before she’d been anywhere near ready to. Her tongue found her lips, tasting him. Liking it.
‘Can we be friends?’ he asked gently, putting his lips to her hair, breathing deeply of it before giving her space. ‘Do I need to invent a reason to see you next time?’
Hannah’s blood fizzed. She’d always been a good girl. Sensible. Apart from one major stuff-up, she’d been focused and on task, and who could blame her for one stuff-up when their world had been falling apart with their father’s death and then the tragedy of losing Beth’s fiancé not long afterwards?
She’d paid the price for that, and she’d go on paying the price forever. Was it any wonder she was cautious? But she was older and wiser than the vulnerable, hurting university student she’d been back then. And Declan was no teenager, either. Maybe it was time for her to rejoin the human race. God knows, she was twenty-nine years old. She’d gone without sex long enough not to want to try.
‘If I kiss you again,’ he said, as if sensing her wavering, ‘will you run this time, or will you stay?’
And from a place she’d thought buried forever, Hannah found the courage and the boldness to smile. ‘Stop talking and kiss me already.’