by Jessica Hart
Cal glanced at Juliet. ‘You’d understand what it was like for her,’ he said. ‘Sara was lonely.’
‘Yes, I do understand,’ said Juliet, but it hadn’t been the same. Hugo had been absent so often that she had been left literally on her own. She hadn’t been Cal’s bride, and he hadn’t come home to her at the end of each day, glad to see her, ready to take her in his arms and make all the loneliness worthwhile. Juliet didn’t think she would have found it hard to adapt to the outback life if she had been married to Cal instead of Hugo.
‘She really tried,’ Cal went on, ignorant of Juliet’s mental interruption, ‘but she never felt at home here, and after Natalie was born, she started talking about wanting her to have a normal life. She didn’t think it was healthy for a child to grow up so isolated, and I think in a way she was right. Natalie was perfectly happy, but she didn’t know what it was like to play with other children—and that made it much more difficult for her when she did get to a city. If she’d had brothers or sisters, it might have been different, but she never got the chance to find out.’
‘What happened?’ asked Juliet softly.
‘Sara died giving birth to a baby boy.’ Cal’s voice was utterly emotionless. ‘She used to worry about being so far from a hospital, but all those doctors and all that technology didn’t help her when it mattered. She had eclampsia.’
Juliet put a hand to her mouth in distress. ‘Oh, no.’
Cal looked across the creek. ‘They took her into hospital as soon as they spotted the signs, but she started fitting and they couldn’t stop it.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Cardiac arrest, they told me. They said there was nothing they could do.’
‘And the baby?’
He shook his head. ‘They did an emergency Caesarean, but it was too late. He died a few hours later. He was called Ben. That was what Sara had wanted.’
The short, staccato sentences moved Juliet more than any eloquent expression of grief would have done. She could see his suffering in the rigid line of his mouth, hear it in the tight control of his voice, and she was ashamed of her own self-pitying display that night on the verandah. What had she had to endure compared to Cal, who had lost his wife and his son on the same day?
Without thinking, she reached out and touched his hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly, and Cal, turning his head at her touch, saw that there were tears in her eyes. Somehow he found his fingers curled tightly around hers.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, as if she was the one needing comfort. ‘It’s six years ago now. You get…’ he hesitated, searching for the right word ‘…used to it, I guess. And I had Natalie. I just had to keep going.’
‘How did you manage?’ Juliet asked. ‘She couldn’t have been much older than the twins are now.’
‘She was three.’ Cal seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding her hand. ‘My mother and sister helped out, but I had to get a housekeeper in the end. The trouble is, good housekeepers aren’t easy to come by, and if they do the job well they don’t stay long.’
‘Natalie told me they all fell in love with you,’ said Juliet dryly.
‘Did she?’ He laughed, but without much humour. ‘We did have one or two embarrassing episodes, yes. They managed to fall in love without any encouragement from me. They were just bored, and falling in love must have seemed more fun than keeping the house clean and looking after Natalie.’
‘Falling in love with someone who doesn’t love you isn’t usually much fun,’ she pointed out, conscious of a faint pang of sympathy for those unknown girls who had tried to get through Cal’s cool reserve, and very aware of his fingers, strong and firm around hers. Of course, she wouldn’t do anything stupid like that—she had already learnt her lesson—but she could see how easily they must have fallen for him, especially if he had smiled the way he did sometimes…
‘It certainly wasn’t fun for me,’ said Cal, bringing her back to the present. ‘Once they realised I wasn’t interested, they’d decide the situation was too awkward for them to stay and I’d have to find someone new. I could have lived with the disruption, but I was worried about Natalie. She’d just get to know one girl when another would appear.’
Juliet tried not to notice the cuffs of Cal’s dark blue shirt were rolled back from his wrist and their forearms were almost touching. His closeness was making her feel giddy.
‘It must have been very unsettling for her,’ she managed, hoping Cal wouldn’t notice the unsteadiness in her voice.
He didn’t seem to. His eyes were on Natalie, his thoughts on that terrible time. ‘In the end I didn’t even bother with trying to find another housekeeper, and Natalie came along and did whatever I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t carry on like that for ever. Eventually she was going to need a woman around. I knew what Sara would have said. She’d wanted Natalie to go to a proper school and grow up knowing her cousins and family in Brisbane, just like she had done.’
Belatedly, Cal realised that he was still holding Juliet’s hand, and faint colour tinged his cheekbones. He released her hurriedly with a murmur of embarrassed apology.
Juliet felt ridiculously self-conscious. Her palm burned where it had been pressed against his, and she didn’t know what to do with her hand now that she had it back. She laid it on the smooth bark of the log they were sitting on, rested it on her knee, then tried tucking it under her other arm, but still it twitched and throbbed uncomfortably, as if the only place that would satisfy it was curled back between Cal’s long, strong fingers.
There was a tiny, constrained silence. Juliet broke it after a moment. ‘So you sold your station so that you could take Natalie to Brisbane?’ Her voice sounded a little stilted, she thought, but she hoped that Cal wouldn’t notice.
He sighed. ‘Looking back, I wish I’d done things differently, but at the time selling the station seemed to be the only option. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but then it seemed that the only way to give Natalie some security and bring her up the way her mother would have wanted was to sell up and start a new life for both of us in the city.
‘I did try,’ he went on, as if Juliet had accused him of not making enough effort. ‘I set up my own company so that I could work from the house and fit in with Natalie’s school hours, and I made sure we did all those things you just can’t do in the outback, like going out for a pizza or a movie, and we’d tell each other how good it was to be able to do those things.
‘And then one day I found Natalie crying.’ Cal’s mouth twisted. ‘She’s a brave little kid,’ he said. ‘She hardly ever cries. But all the time I was pretending, to make things easier for her, she was pretending to make things easier for me. When I got it all out of her, she told me that all she wanted was to go home.’
‘To live in the outback?’
‘Yes.’ He would have to be careful, Cal realised, rather late in the day. Juliet was a good listener. He never talked about Sara’s death, or about his son who had only lived a few hours, but somehow he had found himself telling Juliet, and it had been oddly comforting. It would be all too easy to end up telling her the whole story, and he didn’t want to think what would happen if she found out that Wilparilla had been their home, and that Natalie’s distress had been all that it had taken to decide him on this pretence.
He hadn’t thought about Juliet, or what she might feel. Friends on neighbouring properties had told him what had happened to Wilparilla since he had left, and to Cal, Juliet had just been a spoilt Englishwoman who was responsible for ruining his property and was making it impossible for him to make his daughter happy again by taking her home.
‘That’s when I heard that you were looking for a manager,’ he said, picking his words with care. ‘I didn’t mind being a manager as long as Natalie was happy—and she is, now. That’s all that matters at the moment. She’ll have to go away to school at some stage, of course, but she’s happy doing her lessons with the School of the Air, and for now it’s enough for us both just to
be here.’
It was the first time he had told her anything significant about himself and what had brought him here. Juliet wondered how it was possible to feel that someone was so familiar when you knew so little about them.
‘I didn’t realise that you used to own a station of your own,’ she said, trying to remember just what he had told her. ‘I suppose I just assumed that you’d been a manager before,’ she acknowledged, and then hesitated. Something in Cal’s expression told her that he didn’t want to talk about it, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to find out more about him. ‘Was it a property near here?’
‘Yes,’ said Cal curtly. He wanted to discourage her from asking any more questions so that he wouldn’t have to lie to her.
Juliet wondered if he felt about it the way she felt about Wilparilla. ‘Do you mind very much knowing that someone else owns it now?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, ‘Sometimes.’ Cal looked at Juliet, almost puzzled. When had his obsession to regain Wilparilla as soon as possible faded into a mere aim, something important but not immediately essential? ‘Not always,’ he said slowly.
There was a tiny silence while Juliet readjusted her ideas. ‘I would have thought you would hate being a manager if you’ve had your own station,’ she said slowly. ‘Why didn’t you buy a property of your own?’
This was dangerous ground. Cal hunched his shoulders. ‘Cattle stations don’t come on the market that often,’ he said, as casually as he could.
‘But you’re looking?’
‘For the right place,’ he said.
‘I…I suppose if you find it, you’ll want to leave?’ Juliet made herself ask, horrified to find how desolate the thought of Wilparilla without Cal seemed already. She mustn’t let herself rely on him too much.
‘Yes,’ said Cal, although it wasn’t him who would be leaving. It would be Juliet. The thought was curiously disturbing. ‘There’s no immediate prospect of that, anyway,’ he told her. ‘I know what I want, and there’s no sign that it’s likely to be up for sale for a while yet. You needn’t worry,’ he added, reading the relief in her face, ‘I won’t leave before my trial period is up!’
Juliet had forgotten all about the trial. It seemed a very long time since she had insisted that Cal acknowledge her as boss. She had come to think of him as more of a partner, and now his words were like a splash of cold water, reminding her of the reality of the situation. Cal was her employee, not her partner. He hadn’t forgotten it and neither should she.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said, withdrawing imperceptibly. ‘Of course, I hope for your sake you manage to find what you want,’ she made herself go on, as if all she cared about was the potential inconvenience of having to find a new manager. ‘I can see that it wouldn’t be easy. As soon as Hugo died, the vultures were circling, putting in offers to buy Wilparilla.’ A faint, angry flush stained her cheeks at the memory. ‘He was killed in a car accident in Sydney, and I’d hardly got back from there when my lawyer was on the phone saying that someone had put in an offer for when I wanted to sell—and I’ve had others since.’
Cal winced inwardly. ‘Were you never tempted to take any?’
‘No, I wasn’t!’ snapped Juliet, eyes bright with remembered rage. ‘I know what they thought! They thought I was just a pathetic little woman who’d never stick it out here on my own. They expected me to take the money and run, and no doubt when I didn’t they thought I was just holding out for more!’
He had thought that. Cal remembered his fury each time his lawyer had rung him to tell him that his increased offer had been dismissed in no uncertain terms.
‘I wasn’t going to be bullied off my own property!’ Juliet went on, still ruffled at the thought of the offers.
‘Obviously whoever it was had never met you,’ he said dryly. ‘Otherwise they’d have known not to bother.’
‘Yes, well.’ Juliet’s angry flush was fading. ‘If anyone ever asks you if I’m interested in selling Wilparilla, you can tell them I’ve got no intention of going anywhere!’
‘I will,’ said Cal, but fortunately Juliet had looked away at a shout from one of the boys and missed the irony in his expression.
‘Dad! Look at this rock!’ Natalie galloped up to display what she had found in the shallow water at the edge of the creek. Kit and Andrew, anxious to share in the glory, crowded round Cal as well.
Juliet watched the way Andrew leant trustfully against him, the way Kit danced up and down to get his attention. Her eyes followed his gaze to Cal’s face. He was dutifully admiring their find, and as she saw him smile she was shaken by a jolt of desire so pure and naked that she flinched.
She wanted the children to go away, so that she could slide along the log and lay her hand on his thigh as naturally as Andrew was doing. She wanted to lean into him and kiss his throat. She wanted to feel him turn and smile, to know that he would kiss her back, and that later, when all the children were in bed, he would take off her clothes and lay her down in the moonlight and make love to her until she wept.
Juliet leapt to her feet before her imagination could spin any further out of control. ‘I think we’d better go back now,’ she said, in a voice that was horribly high and cracked.
She was silent on the ride back to the homestead. Her earlier contentment had evaporated, leaving her edgy and unsure of what she really felt any more. Juliet didn’t want to be hurt again as Hugo had hurt her. She had survived by detaching herself from the pain, by shutting part of herself off, and she was afraid that if she let anyone too close, they would shatter the seal that kept her strong.
When Juliet thought of her hand in Cal’s, she knew how easy it would be to let her defences down, and she shied away instinctively from the idea. It was just as well he had reminded her of the real situation. She was paying him to be there, but he wouldn’t always be. He had money of his own, and as soon as he found the right property he would be gone and she would be left alone again. There was no point in letting herself like him and there was certainly no point in desiring him. She was his employer and he was her employee, and it would be easier all round if it just stayed that way.
Cal sensed Juliet’s withdrawal, and told himself he was glad. He regretted having told her as much as he had. She had made it plain enough that she wasn’t going to sell Wilparilla, and what was the point of staying here if there was no chance of being able to buy it back?
If he had any sense, he would give up the whole idea of staying here as manager. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to remember that wanting Wilparilla back meant wanting Juliet to leave. It had seemed a sensible idea at the time, but when Cal looked at Natalie’s bright face as she rode beside him, chattering to the boys, he had a nasty feeling that somewhere along the line he had made a big mistake. As things were at the moment, Natalie would be heartbroken at the idea of them leaving Wilparilla again, and if Juliet wouldn’t sell, he could find himself staying here for ever as a mere manager.
Cal scowled at the thought. He should have just persisted with the offers that Juliet had objected to so much. She would have accepted one in the end, and it would have been much better than getting to know her, learning how she turned her head and smiled, the gallant way she tilted her chin. It made Cal feel as if he was being dragged towards a precipice. If he let himself be pulled over the edge, he would find himself involved, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.
Mentally digging in his heels, Cal glanced sideways at Juliet, who was riding silently on the other side of Natalie, and he noticed for the first time how at home she looked in the saddle. For some reason this just made him feel even more disgruntled. Remembering to dislike her would be so much easier if she would just be the spoilt, selfish, supercilious woman he had first taken her to be. Juliet’s failure to live down to his expectations left Cal feeling obscurely and unfairly resentful.
Juliet sensed his withdrawal too, and tried not to feel hurt. She shoul
d be grateful to him, she knew. They should have stuck to impersonal subjects, as they had done before. It would have been much better not to know about his wife and baby son, about his worries for his daughter, not to understand that he was a man with his own doubts and regrets, and not a superhuman manager who had given her real hope for Wilparilla for the first time in years.
If they had carried on as they were, she might not have noticed the line of his jaw or the creases round his eyes when he smiled. She wouldn’t have known about the tingly strength of his fingers, and she wouldn’t have thought about what it would be like if he wasn’t her manager, if she could bring her horse up next to him and reach out to touch him—
But he was her manager, Juliet reminded herself sternly. So she couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about it any more.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS all very well deciding to keep things cool and impersonal, but not that easy in practice, Juliet realised early that evening. They were all in the kitchen, having supper together, and the twins, thoroughly over-excited after their ride, were showing off. Having discovered they could make Natalie giggle by pulling funny faces, they were egging each other on to ever greater facial contortions.
‘That’s enough,’ said Juliet firmly. ‘Stop being silly and eat your supper, or there’ll be no birthday presents!’
Natalie was instantly alert at the prospect of a birthday. ‘When is it?’
‘Three weeks today,’ said Juliet after a moment’s calculation.
‘Will they have a party, with a cake and candles and everything?’
‘If they’re good,’ she said, with what was supposed to be a quelling look at the twins, who were too young to have grasped the concept of birthdays, or indeed of bribery in return for future good behaviour, and who were still playing up to their audience. ‘Don’t encourage them!’ Juliet protested as Cal and Natalie continued to laugh, but it was impossible to keep her stern expression convincingly in place, and in the end she gave in and laughed too.
