Wish (12 page)

‘
Everyone
knew she was sweet on you, you fool man,’ said Maude, and Billie nodded.

‘And did you know she was barking mad as well?’

‘No, I missed that,’ said Maude, and took a great shuddering breath, and her eyes filled with tears, and Roly was there, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and Maude let him and Billie smiled and left them to it.

‘So, we think Celia was behind all the vandalism,’ Billie told Adam later that evening after Cal had gone to bed. She was lying lengthways on the comfy couch again. Adam was sitting on the floor with his back to an armchair, and his current mission involved trying to be faster round the racetrack than Cal had been. ‘Today we caught her putting sleeping tablets in the pie mix.’

‘What?’ said Adam, his attention divided between the game and her words. In the end the words won and his racecar crashed as he set the game controller aside at turned to look at her. ‘What?’

‘Celia poisoned the pie mix,’ said Billie again. ‘And then she went nuts.’

‘Why?’ Adam’s gaze was on her, sharply intent. ‘Because of us?’

‘No. Because of Maude working at the pub. Celia didn’t want Maude anywhere near Roly, from what I can gather. She wanted to put a stop to it. Said Roly was
hers
.’

Adam blinked. Processed the information in silence. ‘Hnh,’ he said finally.

Which seemed as good a response as any.

‘What it
does
mean is that Cal and I are taking shameless advantage of your hospitality tonight, but as of tomorrow… seeing as the vandal’s been caught… we’ll be heading back to the cottage.’

Tension cut the air between them, coiled and waiting.

And then Adam lowered his gaze and very deliberately picked up the game controller and restarted the game. ‘I haven’t minded having you here,’ he said gruffly. ‘Or Cal.’

‘Thank you. It’s been a pleasure.’ Billie watched as Adam’s car took off from the starting line with a distinct lack of finesse. ‘Cal’s had a good time.’

‘I’m busy here, Billie.’

‘So I see.’ Billie closed her eyes on Adam’s profile and rifled her memory for a picture of Tommy. Tommy, who’d been torn by wanting to do the right thing by his pregnant girlfriend and wanting to follow the music wherever it would take him. A man divided. A man a lot like Adam, in that regard, though the reasons for the division were different.

He’d taught her plenty, Tommy. He’d taught her how to love. He’d taught her about grief. The shape of entrapment, and the smell of it. She smelled it on herself now.

Hard to choke down the questions that trembled on her lips, but she did it. She didn’t
need
to know where they were going from here or what Adam was doing for Christmas.

No entrapment here.

‘You all right?’ Adam’s voice came strained and wary, and Billie opened her eyes and smiled an easy, open smile that hurt like the devil.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’

Billie and Cal moved back into the cottage the following morning, with Adam helping them stack their belongings onto the verandah, and if he did it mostly in silence, well, clearly he didn’t have much to say. Cal, on the other hand, had plenty to say.

‘Can I come and help you shift cows and stuff sometimes?’ he asked as Adam headed for his ute.

‘If you like.’

‘Can I come and see the chooks?’

Adam nodded.

‘Can you keep Henry with you this afternoon while we’re at the pub?’

‘Cal,’ she said, more sharply than she intended. ‘Don’t push our luck.’

‘I wasn’t,’ said Cal, and gave her the strangest look, before turning his attention back to Adam. ‘You should keep Blue, though,’ he said. ‘Of a night.’

‘I will,’ said Adam.

‘He sleeps outside your bedroom window, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘He’d
really
like to sleep inside,’ said Cal next, and this time Adam smiled.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I know that too.’

They unpacked more thoroughly after Adam left. Clothes went into wardrobes and their little pile of presents went back beneath the little Christmas tree in the corner of the lounge room.

‘Home,’ said Billie, because it felt like a homecoming.

‘But it belongs to Kincaid,’ said Cal.

‘The contents are ours,’ she countered. The bookshelf beside the Christmas tree wasn’t much to look at but the books were all favourites, and what’s more, they were all hers. The little green vase with the chip in it was hers too. ‘I missed our things.’

Cal, on the other hand, was probably going to miss Adam’s utility room and all the playthings in it. Billie sighed and let it be, and it was business as usual as half-past-eleven came around and they put Henry in his run and headed for the pub.

‘Is that Casey’s old bitch?’ said Cal, as they drew closer to Casey’s farmhouse. ‘Blue’s mother?’

‘Could be.’ The dog was standing in the middle of the road, barking.

And barking, and barking.

‘What’s her problem?’ said Cal.

‘I don’t know.’ Billie slowed, and finally brought the car to a halt. The dog was still barking urgently. And it was still on the road.

‘Something’s wrong,’ said Cal.

‘I’ll give Casey a call,’ said Billie and dug her phone from her handbag.

No signal.

‘Or we could knock on the door.’ Billie turned the car into Casey’s driveway and drove as close to the house as she could get before cutting the engine. ‘Assuming the dog doesn’t eat us first. You stay here.’

But Cal was already out of the car, calling softly to the dog, but the dog kept her distance and took to running back and forth between them and the corner of the house and barking some more. Cal followed her, and kept following her around to the back of the house, and Billie followed him.

Which was where they found Casey; lying on his back beside the clothes line, fully clothed and unmoving. He rallied when he saw them. Tried to get up and did a rotten job of it.

‘Hey, neighbour.’ Billie bent down beside the flailing old man. Casey could move one side of his body but not the other. She could help him up but she didn’t know if that was wise. ‘Just lie still for me, for now. Okay?’

‘Stroke.’ The word came slow and slurred from Casey’s mouth, but at least he was talking.

‘Okay.’ Billie nodded. ‘Cally, can you go inside and call us an ambulance?’ And this time her boy complied.

‘They left here over an hour ago,’ Adam said to Roly on the phone as he glanced at the clock on his kitchen wall. ‘An hour and a half ago.’ They should have been well and truly there by now. ‘Have you tried her phone?’

‘She’s out of range,’ said Roly, and Adam felt the first stirrings of an old, unwelcome chill. The day was bright and sunny. There’d been no rain for over a week.

‘The road in’s fine,’ he told Roly gruffly.

‘I know, son,’ said Roly. ‘I just… shouldn’t have rang. She’s probably stuck in a queue at the bank or the post office or somewhere.’

‘In
Inverglen
?’

‘Or dropping Cal off at a friend’s house. Probably got lost.’

‘Who are you trying to reassure, Roly? You or me?’

‘You,’ said Roly. ‘And me.’

‘Look, I’m heading into town in a minute anyway.’ He was
now
. ‘I’ll keep an eye out.’

‘You want me to give you a call if she gets in between now and when you get here?’ asked Roly.

‘Not necessary.’ But even as the words left his lips Adam knew himself for a liar. ‘Yes.’

Adam drove along the track, his knuckles white on the steering wheel of the ute, but he didn’t find Billie and Cal. Not broken down, not wrapped around a tree. And then his phone rang again and Adam pulled off the road and answered it and could barely put voice to words. ‘Kincaid.’

‘Billie’s here. Casey had a stroke and they stopped to help.’

‘Thanks for letting me know.’ Adam closed his eyes on the rush of relief that coursed through him.

‘Where are you?’ said Roly.

‘At the turnoff.’

‘You still dropping in?’

‘Maybe later.’

‘She tore strips off me, you know. For worrying you unnecessarily. Me!’ said Roly. ‘I didn’t, did I?’

‘No.’ And then the shaking started. ‘God, Roly.’

‘Easy, son,’ said Roly gently. ‘It’s all right. Everything’s fine.’

No, thought Adam. It’s not.

Adam drove around aimlessly for more than an hour. Time enough to lose the shaking and regain some semblance of calm. Time enough to realize that, like it or not, Billie Temple and her young son had a place in his heart and in his head and he could either keep denying it – and himself a shot at happiness – or he could accept it, and man up, and tell her how he felt.

Half an hour after that, he parked the ute out front of the pub, grabbed the bunch of flowers sitting on the passenger seat and headed for the entrance. His heart felt as if someone was squeezing it with an iron fist, but he had a plan, and that plan was to walk in there and ask her out.

But first there was Cal – the boy was sitting at one of the outside verandah tables and Arthur was with him and old Ralph was with him too.

Adam stopped when he drew level with them. Breathed.

‘You got a Christmas tree,’ said Cal, staring past him towards the back of the ute. ‘A real one.’

‘Yeah.’ For Cal. For all of them. ‘You got another dog.’

‘I’m only minding her,’ said Cal. ‘For Casey.’ And Adam nodded.

‘Who are the flowers for?’ asked Cal next, while Arthur and Ralph looked on in silence.

‘Your mother.’

‘You serious?’

‘About your mother?’ said Adam. ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat, kept his gaze firmly fixed on the boy. ‘Do you mind?’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Cal hurriedly and headed for the pub door like a boy possessed. ‘Mum,’ he shouted. ‘
Mum!
’

Arthur stifled a grin.

And Billie came out onto the verandah, her eyes widening when she saw him and the flowers he held in his hand.

‘Hey, Kincaid,’ she said easily, but her eyes told of worry and concern, and he thought it might be for him. ‘What’s your pleasure?’

‘These are for you,’ he said, and thrust them towards her, and she took them in silence, and then went and buried her blush in them.

‘I was wondering,’ he continued doggedly. ‘If you’d like to go out for lunch with me some time.’

‘She doesn’t date,’ said old Ralph.

‘Ralph,’ said Billie, and silenced the old man with a frown. ‘Let the man speak.’

‘Or dinner,’ said Adam. ‘Anywhere, really. But just to be clear, this would be a date. I have intentions. Some of them are even honourable.’ All of them were respectful. Of her and Cal. Of the things she would bring to a man’s table. Things like sunshine and laughter and a way of moving forward. And pies. ‘So what do you say?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and walked into his arms, and he held her, just held her there against his heart and then he kissed her and she kissed him back.

‘Hnh,’ said Ralph.

‘Excuse us,’ said Billie. She needed to talk to Adam and she needed it now, but some conversations were best held in private, and those things that might happen after such a conversation took place were best done in private too. So she took him by the hand, and dragged him through the pub and into the kitchen storeroom and shut the door.

The flowers went on the shelf. ‘Are you ready for this, Adam?’ she said as she turned towards him, with his hand still firmly clasped him hers. ‘Are you really ready for us?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because I should warn you that if we go down this road, I want to keep doing the job that I love in the company of people I adore, and I want a home that’s a haven and a lover’s heart that stays wide open, and eventually I’m going to want brothers for Cal and at least one daughter with gypsy tangles in her hair and eyes just like her father’s. Is that going to be a problem for you?’

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘No problem at all.’

He put his arms around her, then, and rested his forehead gently against hers. ‘I love you, Billie. I want to be there for you and Cal. I know which way’s forward.’

‘Close your eyes,’ she whispered, and set her palms to his cheeks and her thumb to his lips and traced the smile she found there. ‘Close your eyes and think about the things you want most in this life. And make a wish.’

THE END

About the Author

Australian born Kelly Hunter was first published in 2007, writing short contemporary romances for Harlequin Mills and Boon. With 15 books published so far, Kelly’s books have finalled in the Romance Writers of Australia’s RUBY Award, the Australian Romance Readers Award, the Romantic Times Reader’s Choice Award, and in the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award.

Kelly got her start when working on a biological control project in Malaysia, She decided romance writing sounded much easier than flicking sterile, half-frozen, screw-worm flies (that lay eggs that morph into flesh-eating maggots) out of aeroplanes with no doors. Happens it is.

Kelly lives with her husband and two sons in Tablelands NSW.

Published by the Penguin Group
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First published by Kelly Hunter, Australia 2011
This edition published by Penguin Books Australia 2012