A Heart This Big

by Cheyenne Blue

A twist of guilt lodged in Leigh’s chest. She had spoken harshly to the child, who was obviously struggling with the situation. “I am working for you for free. And I will do my utmost to help you win this case. But I need your help for that. Yours and your mum’s. I need you both to help me.” She kept her gaze on Phoebe, unwilling to see Nina’s reaction. But Phoebe couldn’t be allowed to keep dictating play.

  “Okay,” Phoebe said in a small voice. “I’ll come now.”

  “Thank you.” Leigh stood and waited as Phoebe uncurled herself from the hay bale. “Let’s go and find that chocolate milk, eh?” Only then did she look at Nina.

  A frown creased Nina’s forehead. Her glance flicked from Phoebe to Leigh and back again. “Do you want me to come too, Phoe?”

  “No. I’m okay.” Phoebe bit her lip.

  Nina hesitated, as if weighing the situation. “Sure?” At Phoebe’s nod, she said, “No worries. I’ll be over shortly to prepare dinner. Phone me if you need me.”

  Phoebe nodded again. “Are you ready now, Leigh?”

  “Yes. It should be quieter over at the house. And cooler.” Leigh lifted the damp singlet away from her skin and fanned herself.

  Leigh set down the pen. “I think we’ve covered everything, Phoebe. Thank you. You’re a good historian.”

  “I don’t like history.” Phoebe clutched the glass that had held her chocolate milk. A milky moustache decorated her upper lip. “I’m better at maths and English.”

  “A good historian is someone who relates something well. You’ve got a good memory and were very clear in how you told me what had happened.”

  Phoebe licked the milk from her upper lip. “I guess. I can’t really forget it, that’s why. I remember how Billy screamed when his arm broke. I remember him crying. I dream about it sometimes.” Her voice was small. “But in my dream, I can’t get the ambulance to stop. I’m at the gate, waving and waving at it to slow down, but it keeps going right on past with all its lights flashing, and it never comes for Billy.”

  How was she supposed to respond? In her office, if an adult client admitted something like this, she’d incline her head, say that Grizz would give them the business card of a good counsellor, and she’d move right along. But the untidy kitchen, the kitten purring on Phoebe’s lap, and the rosellas twittering on the veranda railing made it all seem more intimate. Personal.

  Leigh made her voice soft. “Have you talked to your mum about this?”

  “No. She’s so busy with everything.”

  “I think she’d like to know. Or if you don’t want to talk to her about it, maybe you could talk to a counsellor. Is there one at school?”

  Phoebe set down the glass, picked up the kitten, and put it on her shoulder, where it peeked through her hair at Leigh. “I think so. But it’s the holidays next week. I dunno if they’re there now.” Phoebe fell silent. One finger stroked Binks’s little head. “Leigh, do you think—?”

  Footsteps sounded on the veranda, and Phoebe’s mouth shut like a steel trap. The door opened, and Nina shed her gumboots in the doorway and entered. Her gaze sought Phoebe. “How are you doing here? Much more to do?”

  “No, we’re done,” Leigh said. “Phoebe was very helpful.”

  Phoebe ducked her chin to her chest again and surged to her feet. “What’s for dinner?” She went over to Nina, wrapped both arms around her waist, and laid her head on Nina’s shoulder.

  Nina hugged her around the shoulders, jerking back as Binks appeared from under Phoebe’s hair. “That kitten is everywhere!”

  Phoebe giggled. “He likes sitting on my shoulder.”

  “He’s not a parrot.” Nina untangled herself from Phoebe’s hug. “Chicken and rice for dinner?”

  “Yum. My second favourite.”

  Leigh sat quietly at the table. Mother and daughter seemed so tight-knit it was as if they had forgotten she was still there. The well-worn kitchen was not nearly as aesthetically pleasing as the sleek stainless-steel one in her apartment, but right now, it seemed infinitely more appealing. Chicken and rice—something she seldom ate—sounded far more appetising than the salad she’d pick up from the supermarket on the way home.

  Leigh rose from the chair. “I’ll leave you to it. Thank you, Phoebe. Grizz will be in touch once the statement is ready for you to sign.”

  Nina swung around again and flicked a glance at Phoebe. “Thank you, Leigh. Both for coming here again and for your work with the Dare to Be Different kids this afternoon. I hope you’ll keep coming, but, of course, we realise how busy you are.”

  “I’ll have to see.” Leigh summoned a smile. “I enjoyed today. More than I expected.”

  Nina’s brown eyes were as warm as her smile. “I’m glad. Well, we’ll look out for you again.”

  Leigh turned at the door. Mother and daughter were looking at her with identical brown eyes.

  Phoebe gave her a shy smile. “Bye, Leigh. I hope you can come again.”

  Yes, she would return. She would make time in her life for this—for them. “I hope so too.”

  The warmth that settled in her chest as she went down the steps had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

  Chapter 8

  Nina gulped the last of her coffee and grabbed a muesli bar. Breakfast on the run was usual for her, especially on a Saturday, which was the farm’s busiest day. In addition to the Barn Kids, there were often blow-ins: passers-by who saw the sign and wandered up the driveway for a look.

  Nina stuck her head into Phoebe’s room. “Phoe, it’s gone seven. Time you were up.”

  “In a minute,” Phoe snapped. She was curled up in bed, reading a thick tome that was most likely a library book. “Leave me alone.”

  “Okay, okay!” Nina threw up her hands. “But it would be great if you could be in the yard by eight when the Barn Kids arrive.”

  “Sure.” Phoe turned a page. “Close the door behind you.”

  Nina closed the door with more force than strictly necessary. A surly daughter was the last thing she needed. Nina sighed. Phoe would be thirteen in three months. Hopefully, she wasn’t already outgrowing the horsey, tomboy stage. With luck, it would be a while before her thoughts turned to boys—or girls. Phoe had never given any indication where her preference lay, and Nina had never asked. There would be plenty of time for that in the future. Right now, Phoe was still a child. An uncooperative one right now, but still a child.

  Nina found her boots, picked out Binks, who was hiding in one of them, and went down to the yard. With luck, Phoe would come down later.

  Three of her volunteers were already there. Ahmed was bringing the goats into the barn, ready for the Barn Kids to milk them, Andi was mucking out Jelly’s box, and Kiren was in the barn, arranging the hay bales in the semicircle they used for teaching sessions.

  “Hey, Nina.” Kiren smiled her gentle smile that inspired confidence in so many nervous kids. It also made her beautiful face even more stunning. Nina was sure the increase in male volunteers was directly attributable to that smile.

  “Hi, Kiren. Thanks for doing this. I’m running a bit behind today.”

  “You oversleep?” White teeth flashed in Kiren’s brown face.

  “I didn’t. Getting Phoe out of bed is another thing altogether. What do you want to do today? Teach goat milking or do the veggie garden?”

  “I’ll do the veggies. I had the easy option last week; let Ahmed handle the goats this time. That leaves Phoe and Andi to do the ponies.”

  Nina nodded. There’d be an adult with Phoe—that was the main thing. Since Billy’s accident, she’d discreetly made sure Phoebe didn’t supervise the kids and ponies alone. Phoe hadn’t seemed to notice, which was good. If she had, it would be another reason for her to get angry.

  Nina grabbed the last two bales and moved them into position around the wooden platform. Kiren fetched the milking pails and left
them nearby, and then they went to help Ahmed corral Cristobel, a wise white nanny goat who often managed to escape being penned. By the time Cristobel was persuaded to join her friends, it was nearly eight, and the Barn Kids milled by the door of the barn.

  Nina went over and smiled at the kids and watching parents. “Hi, kids. Ready for another busy day?”

  A chorus of yesses answered her.

  “Okay, into your groups. To start with, green group will go with Kiren. You’ll be working in the veggie garden, learning how to control pests without chemicals. Grab gardening gloves as you go—you’ll also be weeding. Blue group, you’re with Ahmed, and you’re going to learn how to care for our goats. You’ll also be milking them. And red group, you’ll start easy and get your riding in first. So you’re going with Andi into the paddock.”

  As the kids in their coloured shirts dispersed, Nina glanced around. No Phoebe. Nina sighed. She’d have to help Andi until Phoebe deigned to show her face.

  She followed as Andi shepherded the chattering kids out to the stables to tack up and take the ponies out. She was halfway across the yard when Phoe slid up to the group as if she’d always been there. Naima slipped her hand into one of Phoe’s, Rufus grabbed her other, and together the kids towed her along.

  Nina turned away. Phoe’s arrival freed her up for something else. She headed down the drive to the shed that housed the farm shop, opened the door, and swung the sign to Open. A cream-coloured car slid past, its engine purring softly, then it stopped and reversed a few feet to where she stood.

  Oh. The leap of warmth up her neck was surely caused by the morning sun. It couldn’t be because Leigh was back; even Phoebe wasn’t bad enough to put her off. Nina waited as the BMW’s door opened and Leigh got out.

  She wore the same olive-green shorts she’d worn on Thursday to help with the Dare to Be Different group. After Thursday, they’d been crumpled and dirty, covered with pony slobber and sticky handprints where Edwina had grasped Leigh’s shorts and dragged her over to Sophia to give her an apple. Now those shorts were pristine again, clean and even pressed. Or maybe they were a new pair.

  Leigh approached, and it took all of Nina’s concentration to focus on Leigh’s face and not on those milk-white thighs beneath the hem of her shorts. Face. Concentrate. Heat crawled up Nina’s chest. What was all this? It was like being an embarrassed teenager all over again.

  “Hi.” Leigh’s voice held the same breezy confidence it always did, but her smile was less professional lawyer and more that of a volunteer pleased to be at Banksia Farm again. Or that of a friend, happy to see Nina. “I hope you don’t mind me coming unannounced. Grizz prepared Phoebe’s statement on Friday, so I’ve brought that.”

  Certainly, a top lawyer didn’t need to act as courier. That must mean Leigh wanted to come. “Are you charging me two hours travel time?” she asked, deadpan.

  Leigh had the grace to blush. “Of course not. I said that to scare Phoebe. I also thought maybe I could help with the Barn Kids today.”

  “I don’t mind.” Ouch. That sounded offhand. “I mean, that’s great. I’m happy you’re here.” Too much. Nina mentally slapped herself. Talk about going from one extreme to the other. She let her gaze sweep from Leigh’s shiny blonde hair, once again in the more informal ponytail, over the red T-shirt and olive shorts, down to the sturdy hiking boots she wore. “You’re dressed for anything Banksia Farm can throw at you. I’ll find something for you to do, but I’m going to take a wild guess that you don’t know how to mend fences.”

  “You’d be right.” Leigh’s smile was infectious, and Nina’s own mouth stretched into a grin. “However, I’d like to talk to you first. I’ve reworked your disclaimer.” She gestured at the shop. “Are you opening? Maybe I can help you with that for a bit to allow you to read over my changes.”

  “You’ve done that already?” Warmth expanded in her chest. “I didn’t expect that. Thank you.”

  Leigh’s slim shoulders lifted. “It didn’t take long. Grizz did the hard yards on that. She revised it based on my notes and gave it to me to check.”

  “I’ll have to thank her. Does she…?” She caught herself. “Does Grizz get paid for work on my case? I would hate for her to lose money over me.”

  “We’re both working on it in our own time. But don’t worry about it; we both want to do this.” Leigh took a pace towards the shop. “What do you sell in here?”

  Nina swallowed hard. Grizz, too, doing this because she believed in Banksia Farm. “Thank you.” Her hand on Leigh’s arm stopped her. “Thank you both for doing this.”

  Leigh glanced at Nina’s hand on her forearm but didn’t move.

  Nina’s palm heated with awareness. She’d meant the gesture purely to stop Leigh continuing into the shop, but now she was achingly aware of Leigh’s soft skin under her fingertips. The two of them were frozen in a tableau that to the casual observer would look like two friends. Or two lovers.

  Nina hesitated. She could remove her hand, pretend that nothing had just happened between them, lead the way into the shop, and show Leigh the tea towels and table mats. Or she could leave her hand where it was, meet Leigh’s gaze, and smile. Smile as if…as if what?

  As if they were flirting.

  No. That could not happen. Leigh was her lawyer. A lawyer she’d had to beg to take her case. Nothing could get in the way of that, of saving the farm. Nothing.

  Nina dropped her hand and took a step back. “Let me show you the shop.” Her voice was almost normal. Leigh would never notice the way the last word trembled.

  “Oh my God. I never thought of this. I never realised…” Nina spread the disclaimer out on the counter. “You’ve reworded this so well.”

  Leigh stood next to her. “Paragraph eight left you wide-open. This is better.”

  “I can see. Thank you.” Nina’s gaze sought Leigh’s. “You’ve done so much for us already.”

  Leigh shuffled her feet. Praise from clients was nothing new, but Nina’s heartfelt words twinged in her chest. She remembered the weight of Nina’s hand on her forearm, that soft, unexpected touch. “It’s really very little.” Her voice was harsh in her own ears. “Next time you want something like this written it’s worth paying for a lawyer.”

  “I will.” Nina scanned the printed sheets.

  Rather than stare at Nina’s brown shoulders revealed by her olive singlet, Leigh wandered around the small shed that served as the shop. Homemade preserves and a few dozen eggs were stacked on shelves, and racks held greeting cards and postcards showing scenes of the farm. Leigh studied the preserves. The labels were handwritten. She picked up a jar of tomato chutney. The label read, Made by Daisy, a volunteer of Banksia Farm, using produce grown at the farm. That was a nice touch. All of the other jars had similar labels.

  Leigh browsed, then selected a jar of lemon marmalade for Grizz and the tomato chutney for herself. She put them on the counter along with two dozen eggs. She dug in the pocket of her shorts and pulled out a fifty. “Can I pay for these now?”

  “No.” Nina moved over to the rack of greeting cards and positioned different ones at the front. “No charge.”

  “I have to pay you. It’s your business.”

  “Lawyering is yours, and you’re not charging me.”

  “That’s different. Let me pay you.”

  “Leigh, please don’t. Besides, I can’t change a fifty.” She flashed a grin. “Now, which do you think is the best card? The one of ponies grazing at sunrise or this one of Phoebe milking Cristobel?”

  Leigh hovered, the fifty still in her outstretched hand. Nina studied the cards, ignoring the money. Pride. Leigh got that. To insist on paying seemed too superior, too monied. She tucked the fifty back in her shorts. “I like Phoebe with Cristobel. It’s more unusual. Now, why don’t you show me your procedure here? This is probably something I could do for the morning.”

&n
bsp; “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

  Nina tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and explained the sales process.

  Leigh half-listened. She watched Nina’s fingers as they tapped the till while she explained the different buttons and categories of goods. Nina’s fingers moved swiftly, efficiently, a bit like the woman herself. For a second, an image flashed in Leigh’s mind of those same fingers moving slowly, caressingly. The touch of Nina’s fingers on her hand. What would Nina’s caress feel like? Would it crackle with the same enthusiasm Nina displayed in life? Or would it be softer, dreamier, sensuous?

  She refocussed on what Nina was telling her.

  “The volunteers get a cut on sales if it’s something they made—Daisy will get two dollars from the sale of this tomato chutney.” She touched the jar Leigh had selected. “So you write it down in this book. One page for each volunteer.”

  Leigh nodded. “But I didn’t pay for that chutney.”

  “Daisy will get her money.” The fierceness in Nina’s eyes stopped Leigh from saying more. “It’s not meant as an income for the volunteers, but it’s a recognition of their time. Some of them donate the money straight back.” She nodded at a donation box on the counter.

  “Do you charge people who only want to walk through the farm for a look?”

  “No. But as we accompany them most of the time, we make sure to tell them about the collection tin. There’s another couple of donation boxes around too.” Nina closed the book and replaced it on the shelf under the till. “That’s it. Not rocket science. Not as difficult as what you do all day.”

  “Helping Edwina was the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time. What you do here matters, Nina. I can’t always say the same.”

  Nina’s gaze shot to her face, a question in her eyes.

  Leigh glanced down. Her hand rested on top of Nina’s. The gesture had been instinctive, something she’d done without forethought. Stupid move, Leigh. She moved her hand away and gripped the counter.

  “If you’re sure you’ll be okay, I’ll go and start the fencing repairs.” Nina’s voice was steady.