Christmas at Candlebark Farm (12 page)

‘It's worth a shot, isn't it?' Jason added. ‘We could try and talk her into staying for Christmas—that's only next Saturday—and we could have a nice dinner or something. I…I think she'd like that.'

Luke leapt to his feet. ‘I think it's a brilliant idea.'

Jason grinned. ‘Sweet.'

That grin tugged at Luke. He thought of all Keira had just lost, and how much he himself had and yet hadn't appreciated. ‘You like her, don't you?'

Jason shrugged. ‘She laughs a lot.'

And most of the adults in Jason's life didn't laugh—at least not much, Luke realised.

‘And she likes people, and that makes it easy to like her. She doesn't brush you off because she's busy with her own stuff or anything.'

Not like him, Luke realised. He hadn't always been like that, though.

Jason moved back towards Dusty's stall. ‘She's cool. She told me I should talk to you about Mum, and she was right.'

Luke blinked, but when he thought about it he realised it shouldn't have surprised him. ‘She told me I should talk to you too. And she was right.'

Luke glanced down at his hands. ‘Jason, your mum—she was a great mum, right?'

Jason nodded.

‘She would've known what to do, known what you needed, if our positions had been reversed and she was here and I wasn't. I'm not so good at working that stuff out. I thought if I excused you from the farm chores and gave you plenty of spare time to hang out with your friends and your Gran and Grandad, and didn't remind you about your mum, that'd make things a bit easier for you. But I was wrong. I'm sorry.'

‘Not sure I'm so good at it either,' Jason said, his voice gruff. ‘And, yeah, Mum was a great mum, and I miss her loads and all, but I like living here better than the city.'

Luke let out a breath. ‘So…we're sweet?'

‘We're sweet.'

‘Good.' With that, Luke started for the door.

‘Dad?'

He swung back.

‘Mum's not the only one who was good. You're a great dad too, you know?'

A lump formed in Luke's throat.

‘And…I…uh…love you.'

Luke walked back and did something he hadn't done in a very long time. He pulled Jason into a rough hug. Jason hugged him back. Hard.

Luke did his best to swallow the lump. ‘Thanks, son. I love you too.'

 

Keira dressed. And then she cleaned her room from top to bottom.

It didn't make her feel any worse. It didn't make her feel any better either. Eventually, though, she had to admit there was nothing left to clean in the room. If she didn't want to become a burden to Luke she had to stop hiding out in here. She glanced at her watch. It would be lunchtime soon. She could put the kettle on.

She forced unwilling legs out into the hallway and down its length to the main living area of the house. A part of her was
grateful Luke wasn't in either the kitchen or the living room. The thought of making small talk had the strength draining from her arms and legs. Besides, she wanted him working those fields of his, not worrying about her.

She filled the kettle and switched it on. Drummed her fingers while she waited for it to boil and then reached for the teabags…and froze. Her mouth dried. A packet of liquorice tea sat innocuously on the counter beside all her other teas. The liquorice tea she wouldn't need again. She swung away, pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat.

Don't think about it!

The bright cover of a magazine drew her gaze. She reached out and tugged it towards her, desperate for the distraction. And froze again. Her pregnancy magazine! With its cover picture of a smiling baby—a chubby-cheeked baby dressed in cheerful red and…and smiling.

She slammed it face down, but that didn't help. A very pregnant woman graced the back cover, advertising a brand of stroller. Keira shoved her chair back and raced blindly into the living room, trying to block the images of that smiling baby and that pregnant woman from her mind.

She eased herself down to the sofa and closed her eyes, tried to focus on her breathing. When she opened them again they zeroed in on the tiny baby booties she'd left on the coffee table.

She couldn't move. All she could do was stare.

She'd left those booties there because she hadn't wanted to pack them away. She'd wanted to touch them, play with them…imagine the tiny feet that would wear them. ‘Oh, Munchkin…'

Very slowly she reached out and gathered them in one hand. They were so very little. She lifted them and inhaled their clean woollen scent. They felt soft and warm against her face.

 

‘Keira?'

Keira started. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there with the booties pressed against her cheek. She pulled her hands and the booties down into her lap.

Luke moved into the room with that easy grace of his. He settled himself on the coffee table so they sat almost knee to knee. His heat and his breadth reached out to her in silent invitation. She knew all she had to do was lean across and he'd enfold her in his arms. It wouldn't make up for what had happened, for what she had lost, but she suspected it would help. She suspected that being held in his arms would make her feel safe for a bit.

But that would only be an illusion. She stiffened her spine and resisted the temptation.

‘You okay?'

She didn't know if she'd ever be okay again, but she couldn't say that out loud because it would be a pathetic thing to say. Her mother would never have said it.

‘I…' She pressed the booties between both hands. ‘Trying to ignore what's happened isn't working.'

His eyes softened. ‘Is that what you've been trying to do?'

She nodded. ‘But I was just about to make a cuppa when I saw my liquorice tea sitting there, which reminded me of morning sickness and being…'

He nodded. She was grateful he didn't finish the sentence for her.

‘And my pregnancy magazine was on the table, and it has the most gorgeous baby on the front cover and the most pregnantest woman on the back.' She didn't know if there was such a word, but she knew Luke would understand what she meant. ‘And then when I came in here and found these…' She stopped worrying at the booties and held them up.

He dragged a hand down his face. ‘I can't believe I didn't think to clear all that away.'

‘It's not your fault.' He'd been too worried about whether she was eating enough, and if she was ever going to emerge from his spare bedroom or not.

She stared down at the booties and that darkness stretched through her. She curled her hand into a fist, crushing the delicate wool between her fingers. ‘I'm trying to think what I could've done differently. Did I lift something too heavy? Have I been pushing myself too hard? Did I eat something I shouldn't have? Maybe that six-hour drive from Sydney—'

Luke reached out and closed his hands over hers, bringing a halt to her rush of words. ‘You did everything you could to keep you and your baby healthy and safe, Keira. You didn't do anything wrong.'

‘But…' That couldn't be true. If there was nothing she could do differently next time then…then there'd never
be
a next time.

‘Dr Metcalfe said sometimes these things just happen for
no
conceivable reason.'

Then… She swallowed. She couldn't go through this again—not on her own. So much for priding herself on her independence!

She leapt to her feet, shoved the booties at Luke and started to pace. For as long as he sat so close the temptation to seek comfort in his arms beat at her—more proof of her weakness. ‘I've let my mother and grandmother down!'

He shot to his feet. ‘What on earth—?'

‘They were both strong women who could do it all alone, but I'm not like that. I—'

‘Garbage!'

His bluntness made her blink.

‘Your mother didn't do it on her own. She might not have had your father around, but from what you've told me your grandmother was there for her every step of the way.'

Keira stared at him.

‘I'm not denying that they were both strong women, but,
Keira, you're even stronger. You've shown more courage, not less. With eyes wide open you chose to have a baby without the usual support networks. That's amazing!'

But look where it had landed her!

‘One day you will make a wonderful mother.'

No, she wouldn't. She didn't have what it took to travel down that path again. Not on her own.

‘And it's not shameful to need other people, to rely on them. It's natural. You needed your mother and your grandmother, didn't you? People need other people—you taught me that. I need Jason. And I know I need to broaden my social network.' His lips twisted. ‘I'm hoping it'll keep me more…balanced in future.'

His admission brought her up short. Had her idea of independence become skewed, affecting her judgement? Had she deliberately kept people—men—at a distance just to prove she could do it all on her own?

‘Keira, you have your mother on an impossibly high pedestal.' He paused. ‘Did she ever marry?'

She shook her head. ‘Have you ever considered that what you took for independence was actually fear? After your father, maybe your mother was just too scared to trust a man again.'

Her voice shook. ‘That's rich, coming from you.' All the same, her mind whirled.

‘I'm not criticising your mother, Keira, but she was flesh and blood like the rest of us. And, like the rest of us, she must've made her fair share of mistakes.'

Her mother hadn't been perfect, of course, but…

Luke reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘She'd have
loved
the woman you've become, Keira. She'd have been proud of you.'

Keira's hands started to shake. And her knees. She crossed back over to the sofa and hunched up in one of its corners,
arms tightly crossed to try and contain the shaking. ‘I wish she were here now.'

Luke sat beside her. ‘I wish she was too. I wish she could help you through this. Instead…' those firms lips of his twisted again ‘…you're stuck with me.'

He wanted to help her. She could see that. Somewhere in the last seven or eight days he really had come to see her as a friend.

‘Is there anything I can do to make things easier?'

‘Believe me, Luke, if I could think of a single thing that would make me feel better I'd…' Her voice trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. ‘What?'

That gaping darkness loomed over her. She pushed it back with all her might and deliberately un-hunched her body. ‘Brooding will send me mad! Is there something useful I can do? I don't know how good I'd be at digging out weeds, but I'd be willing to give it a go.'

She needed something to keep that yawning emptiness at bay. She swallowed. Deep down she knew it wasn't oblivion that lay at the heart of that darkness. It hid a swirling pit of pain and grief, and if she fell into it she didn't know how she'd ever get out again.

‘I don't think that kind of physical work would be good for you at the moment,' Luke started slowly, ‘but…'

She leant towards him eagerly. ‘But?'

He raked a hand through his hair and grimaced. ‘I'm not sure I should ask it of you.'

‘Ask away,' she ordered, the swirling darkness retreating further with every passing second.

‘It might seem…insensitive.'

That gave her pause, but only for a moment. ‘Out with it.'

‘You…um…told me that…'

His reluctance to continue started to irk her. Out of all proportion, she suspected. She gritted her teeth, clenched her
hands, but the anger surging through her had become difficult to contain. ‘Fine,' she snapped, shooting to her feet. ‘I thought you wanted to help, but—'

‘Whoa!' Luke grabbed her arm before she could flounce off. ‘Christmas,' he said, before she could tug free or yell some more. ‘You said I should do something for Jason for Christmas, but…what?'

The puzzle pieces fell into place. Carefully she detached her arm from his warm grip and sat again. ‘I see. And you thought asking me to help might be insensitive because I might not feel much like celebrating Christmas after…after what's happened?'

He nodded.

‘And I…' She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘I just went and snapped your head off.' What had got into her? ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't give it another thought. If I've asked too much, then just say.'

‘No,' she said slowly, thinking of Jason and how his face had grown wistful when she'd described her Christmas plans to him. ‘We don't have to go over the top, do we?'

Luke collapsed back down beside her, his shoulders slumping. ‘Don't ask me. Christmas was never a big deal when I was growing up. Mum and Dad weren't really into it.'

Her heart contracted. They should have made a bigger effort for him.

‘And it was Tammy who took care of all of that stuff when we were married.'

And since her death Luke and Jason hadn't had Christmas. The thought made her forget her own misery for a moment.

He frowned. ‘From memory, though, it always cost a bomb.'

‘It doesn't have to. A few decorations, a nice meal…a couple of small gifts.'

‘Yeah? And Jason… He'd like that, you think?'

‘He'll love it,' she assured him.

He stared at her for a moment. ‘You really think you can bring Christmas to Candlebark?'

With her background, nothing could be easier. She nodded solemnly. ‘I believe I can.'

His brow suddenly cleared. ‘So you'll stay for Christmas?'

She found she could even smile. ‘Yes.'

K
EIRA
glanced up from the kitchen table when Luke strode in early the following afternoon. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank deeply. She tried not to notice the rippling muscles in his arms, or how strong and tanned he looked.

He gestured. ‘You want one?' When she shook her head he closed the fridge door. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Deciding on the menu for our Christmas dinner.'

Interest sparked his eyes. ‘Yeah?'

It almost made her smile, this latent excitement of his. She couldn't begin to thank him for the task he'd assigned her. It had helped take her mind off…other things. Whenever the darkness threatened, she threw herself into planning and list-making till it receded again. Simple.

He leant back against the kitchen cupboards. ‘What have you decided—a seafood buffet?'

She shook her head. No way. Luke and Jason needed a proper traditional Christmas this year. To make up for the last three Christmases. ‘We're having roast turkey with cranberry sauce, roast vegetables and Brussels sprouts.' Luke frowned.

She bit her lip. ‘You hate turkey?' They could have pork or chicken instead.

‘It just sounds like a lot of hard work. I want you to be able to relax on the day too.'

‘You needn't worry about that. You and Jason will be on vegetable peeling duty.' She wanted him to see how easy it all was so he could do it again next year.

‘That's okay, then.'

‘We've left it too late to make a Christmas pudding, so dessert will have to be either trifle or pavlova. We can vote on that at dinner tonight.'

‘Sounds as if it's all coming together.'

‘It is.'

‘Good.' He took another long pull on his water. ‘Are you busy this afternoon?'

Her ears pricked up. Did he have another task for her? Busy was good! She set her pen down. ‘No.'

‘Then I thought if you were interested we might go through your great-aunt's house one more time.'

Her stomach contracted.

‘I wanted to show you what I meant about converting the place into that clinic of yours.'

But… Her hands snaked around her waist. That dream…it was dust now, and—

‘You said you'd always planned to open your own clinic one day. There's absolutely nothing to stop you from going ahead with that plan.'

Her arms loosened. She sat back and considered his words. He was right, of course. There was nothing to prevent her from setting up her own physiotherapy practice in Gunnedah. If that was what she wanted to do.

She'd started to grow fond of the town. Whenever she popped in to do some shopping people smiled at her and made eye contact. Shop assistants and checkout operators always had time for a chat and a laugh. She pursed her lips. The relaxed pace suited her.

Plus, the countryside was pretty. That was an added attraction. Whenever she looked at that view of Luke's she had to smile, remembering the pride in his eyes and his complete
incomprehension that anybody could possibly find it wanting. Frankly, she was starting to come round to his way of thinking. And she
had
asked him to assign her a project. Turning her great-aunt's house into her dream clinic fitted the bill perfectly. After all, Christmas would only take her up till Saturday.

‘Okay.' She leapt to her feet.

He planted his hands on his hips and surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘You're sure?'

‘You bet.'

Busy was good.

 

‘This is what I was thinking…'

Keira followed Luke through the front door of her great-aunt's house and then into the large reception room on the left.

‘This front room here would be your reception area.'

She turned on the spot and nodded. ‘A desk there, with some filing cabinets behind.' She pointed. ‘Over there would be the waiting area—a few chairs and a small coffee table for magazines.'

‘It's a large room, so you'd fit all that in no problems.'

He was right.

‘A bonus is this big front window overlooking the park. If for some reason mums or dads have to bring their school-age children with them, the kids could play in the park and their parents would still be able to keep an eye on them from in here.'

Keira could feel herself start to hunch at the mention of children.

‘You could even put a couple of chairs on the veranda with that in mind.'

‘Right.' She nodded. ‘Good idea.' Her voice came out strained and high-pitched. She turned away at Luke's nar
rowed gaze. ‘It all needs a coat of paint, of course, and new carpet.'

‘Or you could rip this carpet up and polish the existing floorboards.'

She shook her head. ‘Lots of patients will have mobility problems. I'd want a non-slip surface. Water spilt on a carpet will be quickly absorbed, but wet floorboards could prove problematic for someone on crutches.'

He stared at her, admiration evident in those rich brown eyes of his. ‘I'd never have thought about that.'

That admiration threatened to fluster her, so she added curtly, ‘It's my job to think about it. Which brings me to another issue.' She led him back outside. ‘I'll need wheelchair access—a ramp.'

He strode down the front steps and surveyed the veranda, hands on hips and legs planted wide. He paced the length of the front garden, bent down a couple of times to check…something. Keira tried not to notice how utterly masculine he looked, how completely assured and confident, but it tugged at her insides, softened her lower abdomen—and what had been cold warmed and filled with anticipation.

A burst of a child's laughter killed the warmth in a nanosecond. ‘Mummy! Mummy! Watch this!'

Her head snapped back. Her shoulders drew in hard.

‘You could have a ramp that extended from here—' Luke gestured to the front gate ‘—leading straight up to the veranda, or…'

From the corner of her eye she saw him move to the right. In the park opposite a group of children played tag—their high, thin voices and laughter made her chest cramp.

‘Or you could have it running parallel from here, if you wanted an easier gradient.'

In the sun, the children's hair gleamed with good health. One of them started to sing ‘Jingle Bells' and the others joined in. Her heart beat in time to the pain pounding behind her
eyes. Her child should have had the chance to run like that, to sing like that. She should be the one sitting on this veranda watching her child and—

‘Keira?'

She started when Luke touched her shoulder. The sympathy in his eyes burned acid in her chest. She jerked away, gestured to the imaginary ramp. ‘I'm guessing John will be able to give me good advice about that?'

‘Yep.'

Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled back inside, the children's laughter, their vitality, mocking her with a useless series of what-could-have-beens.

She hauled in a breath. It wasn't the children's fault. And it wasn't Luke's fault. He'd been everything that was generous and kind.

It's not your fault either.

She pushed the thought away. She couldn't go there.

She crossed into the front bedroom. ‘I'm guessing you thought this would be the consulting room?'

He nodded. ‘Is it big enough?'

‘Plenty.' She kept her eyes averted from the front window. ‘Desk here.' She pursed her lips and tried to concentrate. ‘Examination table here, and a couple of chairs there…' And there would still be loads of room for exercises and whatnot.

It would be the perfect set up. For a clinic. Against her will, her eyes drifted towards the window.

‘If you're as good as you've been saying, Keely…'

She could have hugged him for the teasing, the lightness, and the fact that it had her swinging away from the window. Only she couldn't hug him. Ever since their kiss down at the river last week, hugging Luke had become a decidedly bad idea. The thought of their bodies pressed up close against each other—his hardness, her softness, his strength seeping into her bones, the magic touch of his hands… She shook her
head. Hugging Luke was off-limits. Unless she wanted it to lead to more kissing.

Of course she didn't want that!

She glanced at him. Or did she? Heat seared her skin when he turned and met her gaze.

She dragged hers away. Stop it! Her hormones had gone haywire. It was probably to be expected given…everything. Heaviness stole over her. That darkness threatened the edges of her vision.

She shrugged off the heaviness and lifted her chin. ‘Oh, I'm as good as I say, Hillier.'

‘Then you'll eventually have too much work for one person. You'll need to get in another physiotherapist or two to help cover the workload. That's why this house is so perfect.'

He led her back out to the corridor and along its length. ‘Bedroom two and bedroom three—' he flung their doors open as they passed ‘—become consulting rooms two and three.'

She bit her lip. ‘Where am I going to sleep? We are talking home business, aren't we?' He didn't mean for her to rent his room for ever?

The thought unnerved her, and she shot into the second bedroom. And ground to a halt, pressing a hand to her mouth. The first time she'd seen this house she'd thought this room would make the perfect nursery. A cot sitting in the middle of the room on an oriental rug, something soft and pastel on the walls, maybe a wallpaper border of nursery rhyme characters…

That life should have been hers!

‘For the moment you'd sleep in one of these two rooms, but what I was thinking is down the track you'd put an extension on the back of the house. I'll show you what I mean.' He took her hand and led her across the corridor, through the dining room and into the kitchen.

The kitchen—the hub of the house. It should ring with
laughter and chatter. The same laughter and chatter that had filled the park. She'd imagined baking choc-chip cookies in this kitchen.

‘You'd extend off the back like this.' He tugged her through the back door and out to the lawn. ‘There'd be a big living/family room here.'

Only she didn't have a family.

‘And then a couple of bedrooms out this way.'

There should be a swing set there…and a sandpit.

‘A big master bedroom here for you, and another smaller bedroom for your—'

He broke off when she flinched.

‘And a spare bedroom there.' His voice sounded heavy as lead.

Perspiration broke out on her forehead, but her toes and fingers ached with cold. She couldn't help wondering if she'd gone as pale as he.

‘I can't stand it,' she finally whispered. ‘I know you're trying to help me see something good in the future, but…I can't stand it. Bedroom two was supposed to be a nursery.' She gestured to where she'd imagined the swing set and the sandpit. ‘There were supposed to be birthday parties out here and…' Her throat closed over for a moment. ‘I can't stand it, Luke.' The darkness loomed. ‘I want to go back to Candlebark.'

She turned and strode around the side of the house. She couldn't bear to enter her great-aunt's home again, to walk through all its lovely rooms with all its lovely dreams.

That life should have been hers, but it had been snatched away.
Why?
That single word reverberated through her while she sat in the car and waited for Luke to lock up.

Why?

When he slid behind the driver's seat, he didn't start the car up immediately. She gripped her hands together and met his gaze.

His eyes were dark. Those grooves bit deep either side of his mouth. ‘Keira, I'm sorry. I should've thought—'

‘No! No, Luke—you were trying to help. I know that. You've been a good friend. I'm the one who's sorry.'

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.'

Pain stretched behind her eyes. For most of the last year she'd eaten good wholesome food, taken all the vitamins her doctor had recommended, avoided caffeine and alcohol. She'd made sure that she'd exercised and that she got a little sun most days—not a lot, just a bit. She'd done all the things that would help her fall pregnant, and all the things that, once pregnant, would nourish her baby.
It wasn't fair that the miscarriage had happened to her!

Anger ripped through her. She tried to cram it down deep inside her. Luke didn't deserve her anger. ‘Please, Luke, can we just go back to the farm?'

Without another word he started the car and turned it in the direction of Candlebark. She was grateful he didn't try to make small talk on the journey home. It gave her a chance to concentrate on stifling the anger roaring through her, threatening to flare out of control and scorch all within its path.

She'd endured almost a year of IVF treatment before she'd finally fallen pregnant—endless drugs, endless procedures, nail-biting waits—all for what?

A low growl crouched in her throat. When Luke brought the ute to a halt in its usual spot by the barn, she shoved her door open and tried to leap out. But she'd forgotten to undo her seatbelt. She tugged at it furiously, that growl emerging low and guttural. Luke leaned across and released the catch.

She fell out, stumbled to her knees before lurching to her feet again. Spinning around, she slammed the car door shut and set off towards the house.

‘Keira?'

She stopped to shake an unsteady forefinger at him. ‘I am so angry, Luke, but
you
don't deserve to bear the brunt of it.'
She had to get out of his presence before she did something unforgivable. ‘You have been lovely—utterly lovely! I'm not angry with you!'

She kicked at a tuft of grass, and then she moved up to the paling fence and slapped it—hard. Pain shot through her hand and up her arm in a satisfying wave, making it possible to ignore the ache in her chest for a tenth of a second. She clenched her hand to a fist, drew it back…