Christmas at Candlebark Farm (8 page)

‘You know,' she started, ‘if I'd fallen pregnant at nineteen I'd have been petrified too.'

Jason didn't say anything. He shoved away from the table and stalked off. Keira slumped in her chair. To think she'd thought a nice, cosy dinner would be just the thing…

 

Luke sat bolt upright in bed and listened, staring intently into the dark.

Was Keira was being sick again?

In the next moment his suspicions were confirmed. He hauled himself out of bed and pulled on his trusty tracksuit pants.

The bathroom door opened before he could knock.

‘Oh, Luke!' She pulled up short and tried to smile. ‘We've got to stop meeting like this.'

His stomach clenched. She looked ghastly—a sickly pale grey, with fine lines fanning out from her eyes and mouth, and a film of perspiration clinging to her forehead and top lip. Her attempt at a joke kicked him in the gut. He didn't know where she found the strength. Or the courage.

‘I'm sorry—I didn't mean to disturb you. Go back to bed. I'm fine again now.'

He took one look at the way she leaned against the door-jamb, as if in need of its support. He slipped an arm around
her waist. ‘C'mon, we'll make you a cup of something hot. Don't argue,' he added, when she lifted a hand as if to remonstrate with him. ‘I'm awake now.'

Her soft weight tucked in against his side as if it belonged there, making him want to pull her closer. The scent of vanilla clung to her hair and he wanted to bury his face in it. Hormones long buried, urges long denied, clamoured to the surface, racing through him with a speed and insistence that made his heart pound. When she laid a hand against his bare chest to steady herself, he thought he might lose the plot altogether.

Get a grip!
She's ill. Had he sunk so low he'd take advantage of a sick woman?

No!

But this temptation had been building all day. He'd wanted to touch her from the moment he'd found her rifling though his sideboard. At her great-aunt's place he'd nearly kissed her! She'd turned and looked up at him with those big grey eyes of hers and he'd wanted to seize her face in his hands and slant his lips over hers.

He gritted his teeth and helped her into a chair at the kitchen table, then backed away. ‘Liquorice tea or lemon?'

‘Lemon, please.'

Kissing Keira was out of the question. He couldn't tarnish this lovely woman with his indefensible irresponsibility, his sinister and inexplicable inconstancy. To dim her wide smiles and all her colour, her bright hopes for the future, would be unforgivable.

‘Thank you,' she murmured when he set a steaming mug in front of her.

She closed her eyes and took a sip. Luke stared, fascinated at the way her lips shaped themselves to the mug. With an oath, he kicked himself away to pull a packet of plain biscuits from the pantry. ‘You should try to eat something.' He hooked
out the chair opposite and planted himself in it, gripped his hands together so they wouldn't do anything stupid.

‘Maybe in a bit,' she said, with a tiny shake of her head.

He suspected she didn't want to risk any larger, more vigorous movements. He should go back to bed, put himself out of temptation's way. Even as the thought drifted into his mind he knew he wouldn't act on it. He couldn't leave her like this when she was still so unwell. What if she fainted?

His hands clenched. What if she fainted when she returned to the city and there was no one to pick her up from the floor and put her to bed?

‘I'd have been petrified if I'd fallen pregnant at nineteen too,' she said, apropos of nothing. He stiffened.

‘Sometimes I get terrified now, and I planned my baby.'

His back unbent again. ‘What do you get scared about?'

‘The usual stuff, I suppose.' One slender shoulder lifted. ‘Will I be a good mum? Can I do it on my own? Will my baby hate growing up without a father and blame me for the decisions I've made?' She paused. ‘The worst one, though, is what will happen to my child if I die as young as my mother?'

His gut clenched. Everything inside him rebelled at the thought.

‘I worry that the cancer my mother had could be hereditary, and what if I pass that on to my baby?' She shook her head. ‘I know it's silly to brood about things outside of my control, but…'

But it didn't make her fears any less real. ‘What happened to you after your mother died?'

‘My gran looked after me. She'd always lived with us.'

‘Your grandmother didn't die young?'

‘Well…no.'

‘So maybe you and your baby will take after her.'

Keira stared at him. And then she smiled—a bull's-eye of a smile. ‘I hadn't thought of that!'

He angled the packet of biscuits towards her. She took one, nibbled a corner. ‘So you were scared about becoming a dad?'

‘Sure.' He took a biscuit too, to give him something to do with his hands and in the hope it would distract him from the intriguing mobility of her face.

She stared at him for a moment. She put her biscuit down. ‘What was it like the first time Jason was placed in your arms?'

He sat back and rewound his memories nearly fifteen years. He remembered the awe and the all-consuming love that had slammed into him. Jason had been so tiny and perfect. ‘It was…magic.'

‘Then why didn't you tell Jason that at dinnertime?'

Because it would have meant remembering how things had been, and how it had all then gone pear-shaped. And how that was his fault.

He had to live with that knowledge every day. Wasn't that enough?

‘Don't you want a better relationship with your son?'

‘There's nothing wrong with my relationship with Jason!'

She frowned. ‘You can't honestly believe that?'

Her incredulity stung. ‘Jason knows he wasn't planned, but he knows Tammy and I loved him.'

‘Are you so sure of that?'

‘What makes you think I'm wrong?' he shot back.

‘The look on Jason's face when you stormed out this evening.'

He swore. His hand clenched to a fist, crushing the half-eaten biscuit.

That cute little furrow of hers etched itself into the centre of her forehead. ‘Are you deliberately trying to push him away?'

‘What are you talking about?' He was doing no such thing. He tried to concentrate on ridding himself of the crumbs.

‘You won't let him help out on the farm whenever he offers. You won't talk to him about his childhood.' She paused and speared him with a glance. ‘You won't talk to him about Tammy.'

He flinched at that last. So? What did that prove? What did she know? Nothing! ‘He doesn't need to bother about the farm. That's my responsibility. I want him to hang out with his friends after school and on the weekends—relax, have fun.'

‘He doesn't, though, Luke. He shuts himself up in his bedroom. On his own. He's becoming as big a hermit as you.'

Her words sucker-punched him. He stared at her, slack-jawed.

‘He
wants
to help out with the farm chores.'

‘Why?' The word croaked out of him.

Her eyes softened. ‘Because he wants to hang out with you.'

All the strength seeped from his spine.

‘And, Luke, you might want to save him from responsibility and the demands of the farm for as long as you can, but it's not going to make up for losing his mum. Even if it does make you feel better.'

Was that what he'd been doing? Trying to atone for the unpardonable, the unforgivable? Was he trying to ease his conscience at the expense of his son? The thought appalled him. He thought he'd been protecting Jason. But…was he only hurting him more?

Luke couldn't stand that thought. He'd lay his life down for his son, do anything to protect him from harm.

He'd have laid his life down for Tammy too, if he'd been given the chance, but life rarely allowed you to make those kinds of bargains. He didn't doubt for one moment that Jason
would have been a million times better off if his and Tammy's situations had been reversed.

And now here was this woman who'd been at Candlebark for all of three days and it seemed she knew more about his son than he did.

‘You forget,' she said softly, ‘that I lost my mother when I was young too. I can guess at, relate to, some of the things Jason is feeling.'

If he were a better father, he would have been able to guess at them too.

‘Why won't you talk about Tammy with him and tell him about the things you all used to do when he was little?'

‘Why does he need me to talk about that stuff?' The very idea made him go cold all over. Brenda and Alf—they talked to Jason about Tammy all the time. It wasn't as if he was missing out.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. ‘You want to know one of the things that scared me most after Mum died?'

He ran his hand through his hair. She'd said her mum had died ten years ago. Fourteen was too young to lose your mum. And she hadn't had a dad. He wanted to get up and walk away, but he couldn't. ‘What?'

‘That I'd start to forget her. That I'd forget what she looked like and smelt like and the sound of her voice. That the memories would fade.'

Jason forget his mum? He stiffened. ‘He'll never forget Tammy!'

‘I know that, and you know that. But only you and Tammy's parents stand between Jason and that fear. And, forgive me for saying so, but I doubt he's getting much…balance…from his grandparents. He's a smart kid. He'll know that.'

Luke recalled the stoic eleven-year-old who'd watched his mother's coffin lowered into the ground. If their situations had been reversed, Tammy would have known what Jason needed.
Instead Jason was stuck with a father who didn't have a clue. ‘What helped you get through that?'

Keira glanced about the kitchen. ‘Why aren't there any photographs of Tammy around?'

He closed his eyes. ‘Tammy and I had been living in the city. When we moved back to Gunnedah—' because it was what
he'd
wanted ‘—we never got around to unpacking a lot of our boxes.' Then they'd separated. And then she'd fallen sick. In the end it had been too hard to go through that stuff.

For him.
It hit him now. Not for Jason. ‘I'll dig some photos out—put them around.' They'd reproach him every single day, but it was no more than he deserved.

‘Jason would love to help you.'

He nodded heavily. ‘Right.'

Keira stared at him for a moment. ‘Talking about my mum with Gran kept her alive for me. Hearing my grandma and my mother's friends talk about her made me…' Her face grew sad, wistful and even more beautiful.

‘Made you what?'

‘Happy,' she finally said. ‘It made me happy to know that people remembered her and still loved her and understood what the world had lost when she died.' She reddened, pulled back and smoothed down her hair. ‘If that makes any kind of sense,' she mumbled.

‘It makes perfect sense.' And for a moment, when she smiled, the heaviness left him.

It crashed back down a moment later when she said, ‘Talking about Tammy—would it be so hard to do?'

He unlocked his jaw. ‘Mine and Tammy's marriage…it didn't last. I let her down. How on earth do I explain that to Jason?'

‘Oh, Luke! You and Tammy were nineteen when you married?'

He nodded.

‘And you married because she was pregnant?'

He nodded again.

‘Then tell Jason the truth. That you were too young. That you married for the wrong reasons, but with the best intentions in the world.'

There was so much more to it than that—a whole lot more…

‘Did you ever cheat on Tammy, Luke? Were you ever cruel to her?'

‘No!'

‘And did you ever make her feel guilty for marrying you?'

His head snapped back. ‘No!' How could she even
think
that? Tammy had had nothing to feel guilty about. She'd had a heart as big as Keira's. He should have been able to love her the way she'd wanted him to.

‘And you still wished her well after you separated?'

‘Hell, yes! She…she was my best friend.'

‘Then tell Jason
that
too. Luke, you have nothing to reproach yourself for.'

Yes, he did.

That weight settled around him more firmly—making it hard to move, hard to talk…hard to think. He'd caused Tammy so much pain—what if he did that to his son?

Maybe keeping his distance was the smartest thing to do—the best thing for Jason? He knew Brenda and Alf tried to poison Jason against him. And why not? They were probably more right than not. He knew they pressed Jason to live with them. Every day he expected Jason to announce that was exactly what he meant to do. He steeled himself for it. Dreaded it.

‘Luke?'

He glanced up.

‘Given all that you know now—that you would be left to bring up Jason alone—do you wish you and Tammy had never had him?'

‘N
O!' HOW
could she think that of him? He loved his son. ‘I could never wish Jason away. I cannot regret having him.' He might regret marrying Tammy, but he could never regret his son.

‘Even though it's hard?'

Hard? Some days it was hell. His hands curled into fists. ‘Yes.'

‘And a struggle?'

‘Yes.'

She folded her arms. ‘So it's hard, and it's a struggle, but you don't regret your son?'

He didn't know where she was going with this. ‘That's right.'

‘And you like your farm? You think this is a good place to raise Jason?'

Something unhitched in him at that question. ‘That's right.' He loved this place. Returning here was the one thing he'd got right. But, heck, the farm needed work, and money—lots of money—spent on it to bring it up to scratch. That thing hitched up inside him again.

She leant towards him. ‘Then where's the joy?'

Joy? With Tammy dead? Had she lost her mind?

She reached out and poked him in the shoulder. ‘You've forgotten how to have fun.'

He didn't have time for fun.

‘You've forgotten to be grateful for the blessings you do have. You have a son who is healthy and…and lovely.'

That almost surprised a laugh out of him. What he wouldn't give to see the look on Jason's face if he heard himself being described as
lovely
.

‘And you have a beautiful place to live. You have more than a lot of people yet all you can do is scowl and frown and…and yell at people and swear!'

His jaw dropped.

‘Name me three things you've liked about your day today, Luke.'

His mind went blank.

‘I'll go first, shall I? One—I finally got to see my great-aunt's house and it's…it's really lovely.'

She
was lovely. And off limits.

‘Two—I found out that I don't have to spend thousands of dollars on said house.'

Yeah, but that didn't change the fact that someone had tried to take advantage of her.

‘And three—I bought a pregnancy magazine today, and do you know my Munchkin is now about the size of a tennis ball?'

Yeah, but it was making her throw up at every available opportunity.

‘Oh, and four—I also bought three pairs of the most gorgeous knitted booties at the women's auxiliary stall. They're too cute for words.' She folded her arms. ‘Now it's your turn.'

His mind went blank. All he could bring to mind were Jason's burning questions at dinnertime. And the hatred and grief in Brenda and Alf's eyes.

He pushed his chair back. ‘It's late. It's time we were both back in bed.' But as soon as he rose the colour that had started to steal back into Keira's face drained out again. Perspiration beaded her upper lip. Her hands trembled.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

She chanced to glance up, and he knew she could tell he'd recognised the impending signs. Somehow through it all, though, she managed a smile. Not one of those big, bright, blind-siding numbers, this one was more muted, but the simple courage behind it touched him more than anything else she could have done.

‘You go back to bed, Luke. I will be fine. Thousands before me have lived through this and survived—as no doubt will thousands after me.'

He wasn't leaving her to face this on her own.

‘You're not going to go, are you?' she groaned.

‘No.'

‘Then you'll have to excuse me,' she muttered. ‘For what it's worth, as you've already seen me at my worst.'

With that, she promptly moved to the floor, braced her back against one of the kitchen cupboards, and stuck her head between her knees. Luke wanted to reach out and cradle her in his arms until she felt better.

He didn't have the right.

She wouldn't thank him for it.

Do something useful!

He racked his brain, and then retrieved the first aid kit, along with two dried kidney beans from a packet in the pantry. He sat down beside her. ‘Hold out your arm.'

She did—straight out in front of her. She didn't ask any questions, and just for a moment his lips twitched. She'd make up for that later. He didn't doubt that for a moment. The reminder that the only reason she wasn't asking questions was because she felt so sick had his smile disappearing before it could form.

He turned her arm over, pressed one bean against the pressure point of her forearm about ten centimetres from her wrist, and wrapped a bandage around it to hold it in place. He repeated the process with her other arm.

She lifted her head and rested it back against the cupboard. Luke moistened a cloth and held it against her forehead. ‘I'm sorry,' she whispered.

‘There's nothing to apologise for.'

‘Nobody warned me I'd feel this awful. I…I mean if somebody burst through the door with an axe and threatened to chop my head off I don't think I could even put up a fight.' All this was said with her eyes still closed.

‘Well, for tonight at least I promise to take care of all axe murderers.'

That managed to put a faint smile on her face. It disappeared a moment later. She opened her eyes. ‘Luke, what am I going to do if I ever feel this sick after I've had my baby?'

Her lovely eyes filled with tears. It kicked him in the guts. ‘You'll manage amazing feats once you have a baby, Keira, I promise. And you'll have friends you can call on, and neighbours, and a babysitter you've trained up—some maternal, middle-aged mother hen—' Gunnedah abounded with those ‘—who'll love your baby almost as much as you do.'

‘Yeah?'

‘It'll work out just fine—you'll see. Now, no more talking. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.'

‘You could keep talking,' she murmured.

There was something in the way she said it that caught at him. He glanced down, but she'd obediently closed her eyes. Slowly, he removed the cloth. He'd keep talking if it helped, but…what did he talk about?'

‘Tell me those three good things about your day—three things you're grateful for.'

One side of his mouth kicked up. She was irrepressible. Not to mention persistent. ‘Three good things…' he said, playing for time. ‘Uh…one—I had a great dinner cooked for me.' Until all that talk about Tammy it
had
been great. The food had been spectacular.

‘Lasagne is my signature dish,' she whispered. ‘You'd better lower your expectations for tonight.'

‘I'll be grateful for anything you cook.' He'd definitely received the better part of the deal they'd made. He rushed on, because he wanted her to rest and not talk. ‘Two—I got to help you out today a little, and make sure you didn't get ripped off.'

‘Help a lot, you mean.'

Her voice had gained in strength, but she still kept her eyes closed. Her lashes were fair—the same red-gold as her hair—but they were long, and they rested against her cheeks in a curling sweep that he wanted to trace with a fingertip. He curled his fingers into his hands and held them in his lap.

‘How was it to see John after so long?'

The question took him off-guard. He'd had to brace himself for the meeting, but he and John had fallen into their old pattern as if it the last three years had never happened. ‘It was…good.' And he meant it.

‘I don't really understand what's going on, but you can't honestly believe the things Tammy's parents accuse you of?'

Not literally, perhaps. But Brenda had sensed his doubt and he deserved her scorn.

‘John doesn't believe a word of it.'

She was right, he realised. Today had proved that.

‘I bet there are more like him in the town too.'

Could she be right?

‘What's your third thing?'

He floundered for a moment, trying to come up with something. Then it hit him. ‘Jason paid me a compliment at dinner.'

Her eyes opened. ‘That's nice.' And then she smiled. All her colour had returned. She held her arms out to inspect them. ‘Of course—pressure points. Thank you.'

‘You're welcome.'

‘Are you angry with me for the things I said earlier about Jason?'

He had been angry, but he could see now that his anger had been directed at himself, not her. ‘I'm not angry with you, Keira.' And with that admission came the realisation he wanted to fight for his son, whatever the cost to himself.

‘I thought maybe I ought to apologise.'

He shook his head. ‘You've held a mirror up to me, and I can't say I much like what I see.'

‘You should smile a bit more, and you shouldn't cut yourself off from your friends, but…I like what I see.'

And, although he knew it wasn't what she meant, he suddenly noticed how her nightshirt had shucked up to reveal a tantalising length of thigh. He dragged his gaze away, clenched his hands tighter, and rested his head against the cupboard behind. ‘I don't want Jason becoming a hermit. That means setting him a better example.'

‘Luke, you're kind and generous to lone pregnant women in distress. You fight a fair fight, you'd never cheat someone, and you work hard. I think you're the perfect example. With Jason, all you need to do is talk to him—you'll see.'

He turned his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes had gone liquid warm. It filled him with corresponding warmth. He reached out and touched her face. ‘So young…so wise,' he murmured.

Her skin was soft, and her breath hitched when he traced the contour of her cheek with his fingertip. Her eyes darkened, desire flaring in their depths. An answering flame flared to life inside him. He turned to cup her cheek more fully, to tip up her chin. Her lips parted, her gaze fastened on his lips, and the pulse at the base of her throat beat like a wild thing.

He started to lower his mouth, his mind blanked of everything except the way she lifted her face to his, how her lips parted, filling him with an anticipation that had the blood roaring in his ears.

‘Oh!' She pressed her fingers to his mouth with a groan just seconds before his lips could claim hers. For a brief moment she rested her forehead there. ‘Bad idea,' he heard her whisper. ‘Very bad idea.'

She was right, of course.

In the ordinary course of events he'd have disentangled himself and stormed off, flaying himself for so completely forgetting his resolutions. But he didn't know if sudden movements would make her nausea return, and although he knew he'd flay himself for his weakness later, he didn't have the energy for anger at that moment either.

She removed her hand from his lips, edged back. ‘This really is a most irrational time of day.'

She was doing her best to keep things light. For both their sakes he had to play along. ‘Disrupted sleep patterns can play havoc with a person's judgement.' And obviously their sanity. ‘Sleep deprivation is a form of torture.'

‘Believe me, at the moment so is my breath. It reeks! You've had a lucky escape, Luke Hillier. I best go and brush my teeth.'

He threw his head back and laughed. He had no idea how she could dispel the tension so easily, but he was grateful for it—another one of those things he could add to his list of good things to be grateful for. He helped her to her feet. ‘Goodnight, Keira.'

‘Goodnight, Luke.'

But after she left Luke couldn't help wishing they'd both been irrational for just a little bit longer.

He knew he'd really flay himself for that thought later.

 

For dinner the following evening Keira cooked steak and steamed new potatoes, and served them with a salad. As far as Luke was concerned it was as good as the previous night's lasagne.

Jason must have enjoyed it too, because, although subdued,
he ate everything placed in front of him. He even went back for a second serving of potatoes.

Luke followed suit and then, as casually as he could, asked, ‘What do you have on for tomorrow? Any plans?'

Jason's fork, heaped with potato, halted halfway to his mouth. He stared at Luke as if he couldn't quite process the question. Luke's gut clenched. Had he cut himself off so completely from his son that a simple question could stupefy him?

Luke sliced a potato in two, although he no longer had the appetite to eat it. ‘I really want that boundary paddock sown this autumn, but there's a lot of work to do before then. If you don't have any plans for tomorrow, and could see your way to giving me a hand, I'd be grateful.'

‘Yeah? Sweet!' Jason's eyes lit up. But in the next instant he assumed that whole teenage nonchalant slouch again. ‘I mean—yeah, no sweat.'

Luke tried to hide his grin. ‘Thanks, son.' He tucked in to his potato with renewed enthusiasm.

After dinner Jason didn't immediately leap up from the table, so Luke pulled in a deep breath. ‘I was rummaging through one of the sheds the other day, looking for a crowbar, and came across a couple of boxes your mum and I brought back from the city.'

‘Some of Mum's things?' Jason stared at him. ‘I thought Gran and Grandad had all her stuff.'

Luke rubbed a hand across his nape and forced himself to keep talking. ‘This is stuff we bought together. Plus some books and photo albums.'

Jason leaned forward eagerly. ‘Can I see? I—'

He broke off and eyed Luke warily, as if he expected Luke to holler no and storm from the room.

Luke had to swallow before he could speak. ‘I thought that if you wanted to help me haul them out we could go through them. This place is looking a bit…dull.' All of Keira's colour
had brought that home to him. ‘From memory, we had some nice stuff.'

No matter how nice Tammy had made their apartment in the city, though, Luke had never stopped longing for home.

‘When?' Jason had lost all pretence at nonchalance. ‘Now?'

‘As soon as we've helped Keira with the dishes.'