by Helen Lacey
“The kids are in the stable,” the older woman explained. “Waiting for kittens to be born. A stray arrived last time we were here and I didn’t have the heart to call animal welfare.” She looked at Grace. “Did you sleep okay?”
Grace patted down her curls. “Yes, thank you. The cottage is very comfortable.”
“But small,” Pat said, grinning. “Too small and snug for one old lady, four kids and a baby. But for you and Cameron—I imagine snug would be good.”
Grace’s cheeks flamed. “Like I said, we’re not—”
“I know what you said,” Pat said cheerfully and plopped a tea bag into a cup. “But I also know what I see. Even the bravest man might be afraid of letting his true feelings show,” Pat said quietly. “If he believes he’s going to get hurt.”
Like the way I’ve always felt about you...
That was just it. He had let his feelings show.
And it terrified her. For years she’d handled his antagonism and sarcasm—that was easy. That she could combat with insults of her own. This was something else. Knowing he had feelings for her, still had feelings for her, made it impossible to keep denying her own feelings...the ones that were madly beating around in her heart.
The back door opened and Dylan entered excitedly. Cameron soon followed. He glanced at Grace and then turned to Pat. “Looks like rain in the distance.”
“Rain?” Pat’s expression widened. “Wouldn’t that be lovely? We need a downpour to fill up the rainwater tanks. What I’d give for something more than the two-minute shower I have every time we’re here.”
Grace looked at Cameron, instantly mortified when she remembered the luxurious soak in the tub she’d had the afternoon before. She hadn’t considered water preservation. She’d only given a thought to herself. His eyes were dark as he watched her, as if he knew her thoughts. Shame raced across her skin. What hadn’t he said something to her?
“I’ll have one-minute showers from now on,” Grace told Pat. “You can use my saved minute for your bathtub.”
Pat grinned broadly. “You’re a sweet girl, Grace.” Her crinkled eyes zoomed in on Cameron. “You shouldn’t let this one go in a hurry.”
Cameron smiled and leaned against the doorjamb. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It was a highly inflammatory thing to say and Grace’s skin warmed immediately. “We should get started on the painting,” she said and avoided the curious look on the older woman’s face as she took a step. “I’d like to work with Emily this afternoon.”
“The main bedroom needs doing,” he said. “We can start there.”
She didn’t say another word and swiveled on her heels. In the main bedroom seconds later, she saw that Cameron had already moved the furniture to the center of the room and covered it with a drop cloth.
“Grace?”
He was behind her and she turned immediately. “What color today?” she asked, ignoring the thunderous beat of her heart behind her ribs. “Perhaps a pale—”
“Grace,” he said again and with more emphasis. “We’ve got another two days here—so let’s not get hung up on what I said earlier, okay?”
She shrugged. “It’s forgotten already.” She picked up a can of paint and thrust it toward him. “Let’s start.”
He took the paint and grabbed her hand before she could escape. “There’s no need for you to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not,” she refuted.
“You’re shaking.”
Was she? Grace looked at her hands. The quiver was undeniable. “Let me go.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t,” she said and tried to pull away. “I can’t talk to you.”
“Grace?”
It was too much. Too much honesty. Too many feelings were emerging and she had no idea how to handle it...or to handle him. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have worked on getting through the next two days without getting involved. But she lay awake for half the night, thinking about him...thinking about his kiss, his touch, and how suddenly it was the one thing she wanted more than anything else.
And it couldn’t be.
She wasn’t cut out for a relationship with him. She was going home in two weeks. Back to New York and everything familiar.
Grace took the brush and headed for a corner. She turned around and faced him, her back to the wall. “I just want to get through the weekend.”
“Is being with me such a hardship?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she admitted and looked sideways. “Which is exactly my point.” Grace twirled the brush between her fingers. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
He looked tempted to smile. “I don’t remember asking you to.”
She plucked at the sleeve of the shirt that had become incredibly comfortable against her skin. She had the silly thought she might just keep it after the weekend was over.
“But you said...”
“I said what?” he queried. “That I want you?”
She exhaled. “Yes.”
“So, I want you. It doesn’t have to mean the end of the world, Grace,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Good,” she said and pushed back her shoulders. “Because it doesn’t.” Grace turned on her heels, determined to ignore him and pretended to focus on painting.
* * *
Three hours later, and without more than half a dozen words said between them, the room was finished. Lunchtime loomed and Pat stuck her head in the doorway just as Cameron was pulling drop cloths off the bed, and told them to come to the kitchen. Grace ducked past the older woman, muttering something about washing up first and he didn’t stop her.
He headed off to do the same once the bedroom was back in order. But he didn’t find Grace in the cottage. She was outside with Isabel, examining a low branch on a citrus tree, which was weighed down by its fruit. He stood by the cottage steps and watched the exchange. With her hair down, her jeans spattered with paint and his old shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders she looked so incredibly lovely his chest felt like it would implode. Only Grace could do that to him. Only ever Grace.
Isabel laughed at something Grace said and she pulled a piece of fruit off the tree.
She really is good with kids.
But she didn’t want them. That should have sent him running. Because he wanted children. The damnable thing was, he wanted to have them with Grace.
It took ten minutes to clean up, switch T-shirts and head back to the main house. He’d heard Grace come inside and head for the bathroom and left her to wash up as he made his way back to the main house. When he walked into the kitchen he quickly picked up that something was wrong. Pat and Dylan stood opposite one another and both faces were marred with a stricken look.
“What’s up?” he asked as the back screen door banged behind him.
“It’s Thomas,” Pat said quickly, looking ashen. “He’s gone missing.”
Cameron stepped forward. “Missing? How long ago?”
Dylan shrugged his bony shoulders. “I’m not sure. Could be an hour or more. I thought he was with Isabel in the stable.”
“Isabel was the last person to see him?” Cameron asked.
Another shrug. “Dunno.”
“Let’s ask her, okay?”
Pat called the girl to come into the kitchen. Isabel couldn’t remember when she’d last seen her brother and Cameron’s instincts surged into overdrive. “We’ll look around the house first,” he assured Pat. “In all his favorite spots.”
Grace entered the room and he told her what was happening.
“I’ll help you look,” she said and headed directly back out through the mudroom.
Fifteen minutes later, after every possible hiding place had been ex
hausted around the perimeter of the house, and they called his name repeatedly, Cameron knew they needed to widen the search.
“You head next door,” he told Dylan. It was about one mile to the nearest neighbor and Cameron knew the boy would cover the ground quickly. “Grace and I will cut across the back paddock and head east. He can’t have gotten too far. You stay here with the girls,” he said to a worried Pat. “And call me if he comes back. Also, call the local police station and alert them to what’s going on—tell them we’re coordinating a search and you’ll get back to them within the hour if we need help.”
While he gave Dylan instructions he noticed Grace packing a small bag with water and cereal bars she’d found in the pantry. Within minutes they were outside and winding their way past the stables and through the barbed-wire fence.
“Any idea where he might be?” she asked as he held the wire apart while she slipped through.
They both stood and stared at the endless miles of pasture ahead of them. “Just a hunch he’d head this way. He knows not to go near the road because Pat has drummed road safety awareness into all the kids. This way seems logical.”
She nodded. “Could he get far ahead of us?”
“Possibly. If he’s just walking and not distracted.” He raised his hand in an arc. “We’ll keep about thirty meters apart. And watch for holes in the ground. I don’t want you breaking any bones.”
She nodded and walked off, creating space between them. And then they started walking, tracking across the undulating ground, looking for signs, anything that might indicate a little boy had come wandering this way. They were about ten minutes into it when his phone rang. When he finished talking and slipped the phone back into his pocket he noticed Grace had moved toward him a little.
“Who was that?” she asked in a loud voice.
“Fish,” he replied.
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It was Pat,” he explained. “Apparently Isabel remembered Thomas saying he was going to find a fish for the cat. Cats like fish, right?”
“I’m not sure I’m following you.”
Cameron pointed toward the horizon. “There are three water holes on this property.”
She flipped her sunglasses off her nose. “Do you think he might have—”
“I’m not sure,” he said quickly and started walking again. He could see Grace’s concern in the narrowing of her features. “Don’t worry—he’ll be fine.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let’s pick up the pace.”
They did so quickly and thirty minutes later came across a small dam. Cameron checked for footprints and found only those belonging to cattle and the tracks of a lone wallaby.
“Nothing here,” he said and trudged back up the side and onto the flat.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Grace asked and passed him a bottle of water from the small backpack she’d brought with her. “If he’s not here he might be on his way back. Maybe he’s home already?”
Cameron forced a smile at her optimism and took the water. “Maybe. Let’s keep going, though. The closest neighbor in this direction is about another three kilometers from here.”
Five minutes later he heard from Pat again. He told her to call the neighbors and say they were on their way and to contact the police again and keep them updated. His phone crackled and faded as he rang off.
“Reception’s gone for the moment,” he said to Grace as they headed off again. “From now on we just keep walking and looking.”
She nodded and turned away. But not before Cameron saw the fear in her expression. He felt it, too, although he wasn’t about to admit that to Grace. They continued their trudge across the undulating landscape and didn’t speak, but the tension between them was unmistakable. A shared tension brought on by the building threat that they wouldn’t find Thomas—that he was lost, injured or worse.
Cameron spotted the familiar rise of another water hole ahead. A few cattle bellowed in the distance and he saw Grace hesitate on her feet as she walked. He doubted she’d ever been anywhere near a cow. He picked up speed and called the little boy’s name. Grace quickly did the same and within seconds they were both jogging. She was faster than he’d imagined, even over the rough terrain. He stayed pace with her and somehow they ended up side by side, moving swiftly across the grass, avoiding stones and dips in the ground. He grabbed her hand and her tight grip seemed to push them harder and faster. Finally they reached the water hole and took long and hard steps up the embankment, sinking slightly in the unsteady clay underfoot.
“Cameron!”
Grace’s voice echoed across the water as they both crested the rise. He saw Thomas immediately, on his belly, facedown in the murky water. He was at the water’s edge in four strides and pulled the sodden, unconscious little boy into his arms, praying that they’d reached him in time.
Chapter Eight
Grace heard a scream and realized it was her own terrified voice. Cameron trudged up the embankment with Thomas in his arms as she dropped the backpack.
Panic coursed through her blood. She’d felt that panic before. The accident and Richard’s death came rushing back into her thoughts. She tried to shake off the memory, tried to act normally, tried to stop her knees from failing.
Take a breath...one...two...
Slow breathing helped whenever she experienced that rush of adrenaline, that same dreaded coldness whispering across her skin. Usually it happened when she was alone at night, or about to drift off to sleep...then the darkness wrapped her up and for a while she was back, trapped in that car, praying...hoping that someone would find her.
“Grace?”
Cameron’s voice jerked her back into the present and she quickly pulled herself together as he laid the child on the ground. Thomas looked ghostly pale and she dropped to her knees beside him.
Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Is he breathing?”
Cameron shook his head and rolled the child over to clear water from his airway.
“Try my phone again,” he barked and pulled the phone from his pocket as he turned Thomas onto his back again. “The nearest hospital is half an hour away so get an ambulance to meet us at the farm.”
Grace grabbed the phone and hit the emergency number. Thankfully, there was a signal and she quickly made the call, ensuring an ambulance was on its way to the house. Time stretched like elastic, and what was seconds seemed like an eternity. She watched, horrified and fascinated as Cameron performed CPR and encouraged the child to breathe in between puffs of lifesaving oxygen. Finally Thomas spluttered and drew in a long gasp of air. She touched the boy’s muddy hair soothingly as his breathing steadied. He opened his eyes and croaked out a word she couldn’t understand. With instincts she hadn’t known she possessed, Grace comforted Thomas and told him it would be all right. Cameron rocked back on his heels and closed his eyes and Grace touched his arm.
“You did it,” she said, squeezing a little. “He’s okay.”
Cameron nodded and let out a long breath. “Let’s get him home.”
She nodded. “He’s cold,” she said, touching his pale face. Grace pulled a sweater from the small backpack and quickly threaded Thomas’s arms into the sleeves and then took off her own jacket and tucked it around his small body. She rubbed his hands together for moment then looked toward Cameron. “Let’s go.”
She watched as he lifted the child effortlessly and held him against his chest. He walked back to the house as quickly as possible, and too emotional to speak, Grace followed. Pat and the rest of the children were waiting by the fence when they arrived and she heard Cameron’s palpable sigh of relief at the sight of the ambulance in the driveway. Two medics were instantly on hand and rushed forward to take Thomas from Cameron’s arms. Within minutes the little boy was wrapped in a thermal blanket and received the necessar
y attention from the officers.
Pat came to Grace’s side, tears in her pale eyes. Without thinking, Grace braced one arm around the older woman’s shoulder and held her tightly. Cameron spoke with the officers as they loaded Thomas into the vehicle.
“You should accompany him,” Grace said to Pat. “Cameron will go with you. I’ll stay here with Emily and the kids.”
Pat nodded as tears welled and fell. “Thank you.”
Minutes later Grace watched the ambulance skim down the gravel road following closely by Cameron’s sedan. She hadn’t said anything to him as he’d left. She hadn’t needed to. The realization they could communicate with simply a look filled her blood, her skin, her very core.
She gathered the children and headed back to the house. Dylan seemed unusually quiet and she ushered him into the kitchen with the girls and Jed at their heels and made a quick meal of ham-and-cheese sandwiches. After they’d eaten Isabel raced off to her bedroom, too young to fully comprehend what had happened to their brother, while Emily went to bathe Riley and put him to bed. Dylan however, lingered by the sink. Aware that the boy was grappling with his emotions, Grace suggested a makeshift game of cards to help distract him until he chose to talk about how he was feeling.
It took about thirty minutes.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
Grace dropped a card onto the table and chose another. “Of course he will.”
“I should have watched out for him.” He looked downward. “I wasn’t watching. I wanted to muck around with the horses. I didn’t want to get stuck watching the kids again. I forgot about him. I forgot and he disappeared. If Nan finds out she’ll be really angry.”
She heard the panic and pain in Dylan’s voice and felt the need to comfort him. “I dropped my little sister on her head once,” she admitted and looked at him over her cards. “I was supposed to be looking after her while my mother was outside. We were twirling...but I got dizzy and dropped her.”
“You dropped your sister?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
