Daniel's Bride
Authors: Joanne Hill
Daniel's Bride
By Joanne Hill
Text copyright © 2012
Joanne Hill.
Kindle Edition.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author,
except for review or promotional purposes. This is a work of fiction and
liberties may have been taken with some details.
My bride, my very
own, you have stolen my heart!
With one glance from
your eyes and the glow of your necklace,
you have stolen my
heart.
Song of Solomon 4:9
CEV
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Give her a kid with a complex, any complex, and she was in
her element.
Teenage kids, confused kids, kids that suffered acne,
unrequited love, and parents that didn’t understand them, and she was there.
Little kids, however, were something else.
Mel shot a wary glance at the toddler in her arms, a two
year old called Britney who had jam on her face, sand stuck to the jam, and a
lethal Barbie in her pudgy fist. Mel felt as far out of her comfort zone as she
could get.
“Mama,” Britney squealed, waving the doll.
“Mummy will be here soon.” Mel jerked her head back as the
Barbie came an inch away from connecting with her nose. “I bet she’s finished
all her shopping and she’s parking her car right now and before you know it,
we’ll be having a barbeque back at the campsite.” She glanced up towards the
South Sydney beach car park to see if Diane was there, hopefully with one hand
ready to take her children, and the other holding a bag of food. There was only
a tall, dark haired man stalking down the grass bank towards the beach. He took
long, angry strides, the tails of his cream shirt flapping around his hips. He
glanced at her, the briefest look, and continued walking, a don’t-bother-me-and-I-won’t-bother-you
warning written in every step he took.
Suits me just fine.
She tensed as Eli, Britney’s spawn of Satan brother, hurtled
over the damp sand, dragging a dodgy kite behind him.
She called, “Watch out, Eli, you’re not looking where you’re
going.”
He ignored her, ran back up the end of the beach, spun
around and made his way back, intent on the kite and its dismal attempts to get
lift off.
Britney wriggled as Eli sped past and Mel cautioned again,
“Eli, be careful.” Her words carried back towards her on a breeze of sea air.
Britney began to whine, and Mel jiggled her. “There, there,
it’s okay. Mummy’s nearly here, I’m sure of it. She’s nearly here, Brits.”
Or maybe she wasn’t nearly here at all. Maybe she’d decided to
keep on driving past the shops and wasn’t coming back. Mel glanced over towards
the campsite. They’d only met a few days ago when they’d helped each other set
up their tents, and she suspected Diane was suffering mild depression.
Or maybe it wasn’t mild at all. Maybe, in the months since
she’d resigned from her job at the school, Mel had lost her touch. Had lost the
ability to see what wasn’t so obvious to everyone else. Unease settled in her
stomach the same time as Eli ran straight into the path of the man walking into
the ankle height waves.
“Watch out!” The warning froze on Mel’s lips as Eli
connected with solid thigh, throwing them both off balance. The man fell,
taking Eli with him into the edges of the surf.
Mel’s heart raced in panic as she set Britney down.
“Wadder,” Brittney squealed as she toddled towards the sea.
“Brits, no,” Melinda yelled, swooping her up just in time.
Dread pounded her as the man grabbed Eli and stood up. His
pants were wet, his shirt tails soaking, and Eli yelled, “My kite, my kite,” as
the kite drifted down the beach.
The man looked with distaste at Eli, holding him out as if
he was something indescribably nasty.
Mel jogged the short distance, Britney laughing with each
bounce, and when she reached him, she apologized. “I’m so sorry this has
happened.”
His cool gaze zeroed in on Britney, then back to Mel. She
felt the urge to squirm, and said hastily, “Eli, say sorry to the man for
knocking him over.”
Eli shook his head firmly, yelled, “I want my kite,” and
tried to escape the man’s grip.
The man addressed Eli. “I have no idea what they are
teaching your mother in parenting school, but clearly, they’ve failed.”
Mel stiffened. It was one thing to consider herself a
failure as a potential parent, but quite another to have it confirmed by a
complete stranger.
She breathed in deeply, “I am sorry about this, but it is a
beach. Flying kites is what kids do on beaches.”
His blue-grey eyes stared at her as if she had just muttered
the earth was square. “The child could have drowned.”
“He wasn’t about to drown, I was watching him.”
One eyebrow lifted.
She ignored it, and said to Eli, his arms still waving
around for the kite, “You’re meant to watch where you’re running with that
kite. I told you that a million -”
She pulled herself up. She hadn’t actually told him a
million times at all, maybe four or five, but it felt like a million. No wonder
His Lordship thought she was the mother.
He set Eli down, and Eli promptly turned back to Mel, and
wrapped his arms around her legs so tight, she had to struggle not to fall
down.
“There, there, Eli,” she murmured, as he buried his face
against her jeans and she patted his head. Someone loves me, she thought, then
quickly pushed the pity party away. She was here to forget about Max and the
wedding, not dwell on it.
She gathered herself, and glanced back at the man. He was
well over six foot, with coal black hair that grazed his shirt collar, a
slightly square cut to his chin, and shoulders broad enough to make you feel
protected. A pulse of awareness zipped through her. To her surprise, it felt
good. Made her feel as if she was alive after all, and not the cold sack of
spuds Max had accused her of being. “Look, I am truly sorry about all this.”
He continued to glare. His face seemed to be getting darker
which was oddly even more attractive. Take that, Max. I am so responsive.
Take
that
.
She tried again. “I’m staying at the campground just along
the way.” She gestured down the beach to the site entrance. “If you need to -
get changed or anything.”
“As a rule, I don’t carry spare clothes in my car.” He wiped
one wet, sandy hand over his shirt. “Just keep better control of your children.
They shouldn’t be running wild on a beach.”
The gibe that she was incapable of being a good parent dug
deeper. She didn’t need to feel any more incapable than she already did,
especially with what was happening in her life. Or rather, not happening. She
inhaled sharply. “They were not running wild.”
“They need to be kept under better control.” He glanced
towards a woman walking a Border Collie down the beach on a leash. A well
restrained Border Collie, Mel noted.
He raised his eyebrows.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she choked out in disgust.
“Comparing children to animals is absurd. I suppose you think they should be
seen, not heard, and whipped for the slightest misdemeanor. You could get in a
lot of trouble for saying things like that, you know.”
“I never said a thing. Though is ‘misdemeanor’ what you call
uncontrolled children running loose in public places?”
Britney began to cry again, and Mel jiggled her. The
movement caused her braless breasts to wobble, and his gaze settled there with
the briefest spark of what might have been interest, before looking back up to
the car park beyond the grass strip, where no doubt he’d parked his shiny,
valet-perfect late model BMW.
“I’d like to say it was a pleasure meeting you.” He shoved
his hands in his jeans pocket, then the other. He swore.
Dread shot through her. Please let his keys be there and not
floating around in the sea.
Please, please, please
…
He pulled out a short gold chain with several keys, and
jangled them. “But that would be a lie.”
Then he turned and walked back to the reserve, to the car
park beyond, with his wet jeans and damp shirt, and she almost sank to the
beach with relief. Yes, it was all her fault, she knew that. She had been the
adult in charge of Eli. But a goodbye, a nod to the head, an acknowledgement
via those lips would have been something.
Good looking, yes. A darned shame about the personality.
He is not Max, a voice screamed in her head. Let it go.
Too late, she called out, “Wait.”
His broad shoulders stiffened a second before he stopped.
“You can’t just…you don’t….I mean, it’s…”
He turned around, exasperated. “Just make sure your child
doesn’t do it again. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if he took out a
pensioner.”
Her mouth gaped, coherence drew to a splutter on her lips,
and at the same time she heard Diane’s voice and turned to see her running
along the beach towards them.
“Mel?” she called out, blonde hair flowing behind her,
yellow muslin dress flapping around her legs. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I just
dropped the shopping off at my tent but all the oldies from the campervan tour
were there and they just insisted I have a cup of tea and – oh...oh my gosh.”
She stared at the retreating man’s wet pants, and then at
Eli, complete with wetter clothes, sulky expression and a tight grip on Mel’s
thighs.
“Eli?” she gasped.
“Eli just had a bit of an incident,” Mel explained. “No one
got hurt.”
“Not from the look of that guy.” Diane took Britney out of
Melinda’s arms, and stopped her son from taking off down the beach again in
search of the kite. “I’m terribly sorry – sir,” she called out to the now
distant figure.
Mel turned away from him and his arrogant ass. Her body
still seethed with frustration and never had the idea of climbing into her
little tent and zipping it up held as much appeal as it did now. But before
that, she needed to make sure everything was fine here. “Diane, are you okay?”
“Sure.” She jiggled Britney who had her head on Diane’s
shoulder and her thumb in her mouth, just watching Mel. Mel smiled and Britney
turned to face the other way. “Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m sure.”
Still Mel hesitated. “I’ll head back to the campsite. I
might have a go at making something yummy on the fire for us all for tea.”
Diane nodded. “That would be great. And I’m fine, I really
am, and I owe you.” She gave a wobbly smile. “Getting away on my own, even if
it was just going up to the shops and having a coffee, and having some time on
my own to think…well, it really helped. You were right. I feel heaps better.”
Mel squeezed her hand, relieved beyond belief, and made her
way back down the beach. She walked as fast as she could, her feet sinking into
the soft sand as she neared the hard grassy walk way. Again, Max popped into
her mind, and again she forced him away, as far away as she could. It angered
her. It had been over two months now, and she should have seen it coming when,
looking back, the signs were all so obvious. That’s what angered her so much
now. All the lies. All the deception. Her plans, her future, ripped apart by a
man she thought she loved.
No.
She had loved him. Of course she had.
Hadn’t she?
Not so different from all the kids you’ve counseled, are
you, Miss Green?
She bet that man on the beach didn’t have to deal with being
lied to. Or being jilted just weeks out from your wedding. He’d be the one
doing the jilting. He probably had broken hearts scattered across Australia.
She broke into a slow jog as her feet hit solid earth,
enjoying the brief moment of freedom, and her spine tingled all the way back to
her tent. With any luck, she’d never see him again.
He stood outside the small green and red tent that the
hippy, Diane, had directed him to.
Mel – that was the other woman’s name – Mel – was supposedly
inside. It was barely big enough for one person, looked as if it would rip
apart in a decent gust, yet he could hear the muted sounds of voices from
inside.