Miracle in Bellaroo Creek (Bellaroo Creek!)

by Hannay, Barbara

  ‘Ouch.’ He shot her a sideways glance and caught the almost warrior-like challenge in her eyes. ‘That came from the heart.’

  ‘Country towns need heart.’

  ‘And dollars.’

  Almost as soon as he’d said this Ed knew it was a mistake. He wasn’t even sure he totally believed his own argument. Before Milla could pounce on him, he hurried to cover his tracks. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing with you. You made a good point. Self-worth is important. In the long run, I’m sure it’s more important than fiscal worth.’

  ‘Wow,’ Milla said softly. ‘Coming from a Cavanaugh, that’s a very interesting statement.’

  Yeah... Ed had surprised himself, trotting out that little homily. Maybe he’d been down under too long and he was starting to view the world upside down.

  But there was no hiding from the bleak truth. Milla was right about his family. The Cavanaughs epitomised the old cliché. Money hadn’t bought them happiness. Ed only had to think about his father, obstinately courting his fourth bride-to-be, while knowing that his chances of success were on a par with his previous marriages...

  His mother was even sadder. Lonely, bitter and sharp tongued, she had certainly found no comfort in her wealth.

  It was hard to tell with his young brother, Charlie, but he was young, so there was still hope.

  As for devil-may-care Harry...

  Or me?

  Ed sighed, while beside him Milla seemed to shrink back into her silent deliberations. Once again she was huddled with her arms folded tightly, her face turned away as she stared out through her side window.

  They reached the outskirts of town, slipping past the small white weatherboard church and the endangered little school with its playground and football field, past the straggle of houses that rimmed the main street. Soon, Ed brought the ute to a stop outside the darkened bakery and as the motor died he heard Milla let out a heavy sigh.

  All evening at the Murrays’ place, she’d seemed to be light-hearted and happy. The return of this low mood bothered him. ‘You OK?’

  Milla started and frowned at him. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I asked if you’re OK. Is something bothering you?’

  She shook her head. ‘I—I was just remembering...something...’

  Whatever she was remembering, it troubled her. One of the few streetlights in the town was shining in on them, illuminating her lovely face, and her anxiety was clear to Ed. He could see its shadows in her eyes and in the sad twist of her mouth.

  He was trying to think of the right thing to say when she pushed her door open and hopped out, fishing in her bag for her keys. He climbed out, too, locked the ute and joined her as she opened the door.

  The smell of fresh paint greeted them as they went through the shop, carefully skirting the piles of drop sheets on their way to the doorway at the back. The ginger cat came forward with a soft meow and rubbed his sleek body against Milla’s legs. Milla gave him a scratch, then turned on the light, bringing the bakery’s workroom to life with its thick brick walls and stainless-steel benches and the back section filled by the massive rotating oven.

  Ed saw his stretcher in the corner, complete with neatly rolled sleeping bag, and he felt his spirits sink. The stretcher wasn’t too uncomfortable, but he knew he wasn’t ready for sleep. He hoped Milla wasn’t planning to scurry upstairs straight away.

  ‘Is it OK if I make coffee?’ he asked.

  She looked surprised. ‘Are you sure you want coffee at this time of night?’

  ‘I nearly always have coffee at this time of night.’

  ‘Oh? OK.’ With a strangely distant smile, she hurried to the fridge and extracted a packet of ground coffee. ‘This do?’

  ‘That’s fine, thanks. I’m happy to make it. Care to join me?’

  She hesitated, and the shadow of whatever was bothering her seemed to hover above her. Ed stamped on an urge to pull her in his arms, to kiss her soft, brooding mouth. But the urge was persistent. He longed to kiss her smooth white throat, kiss any and every part of her till she was purring with happiness and pleasure.

  Instead he sent her an encouraging smile, a trick that had worked in the past with almost any woman.

  Her answering smile was a shade wistful. ‘I won’t have coffee,’ she said. ‘It’ll keep me awake, but I could do a peppermint tea.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  While Milla collected a tea bag from the pantry cupboard, Ed set the kettle to boil and measured coffee into the pot. As he slipped bright mugs from hooks, she opened the buttons on her jacket and shrugged out of it, letting it drop onto a spare stool before she dragged another stool for herself. Then she slumped forward with her elbows on the bench, her chin in her hands.

  Her Renaissance gold hair glowed warmly beneath the harsh fluorescent tube and her face was a picture of mournful self-absorption.

  Ed knew it was stating the obvious, but he had to ask. ‘That bad memory still bugging you?’

  He half expected her to remain sunk in gloomy silence, or to tell him it was none of his business. He was surprised when she lifted her head.

  ‘It’s pretty stupid,’ she said. ‘Just something Heidi mentioned tonight. Something from our high-school days.’

  ‘High school. Sheesh.’

  Milla’s green eyes widened. ‘Didn’t you like school?’

  ‘It was OK. I guess it’s the same for everyone. Some good memories, some I’d rather forget.’

  She nodded soberly. ‘I wish I could forget this one.’

  Ed felt a clutch in his heart. He’d never thought of himself as chivalrous, but tonight he longed to come to her aid, to at least make her smile again. But his gallant thoughts were pierced by the kettle coming to the boil and he made a business of filling her tea mug and the coffee pot.

  ‘Do you want to leave the tea bag in?’ Such a safe, practical question.

  ‘For the moment, thanks.’

  Then he asked, carefully, ‘So you haven’t talked to Heidi about this...problem?’

  Milla shook her head. ‘She doesn’t know a thing. No one does. Except—except the person concerned. I—I’ve never told anyone else.’

  Was that wise?

  Ed wasn’t sure what to say. Unless he was discussing investments or business, his counselling skills were nix. ‘I’ve never been one for baring my soul,’ he admitted. ‘But they do say that talking about stuff is supposed to help.’

  To his surprise, a small smile shone in Milla’s eyes.

  ‘Are you offering to be my Father Confessor, Ed?’

  The very thought made him nervous as hell. He swallowed to relieve the broken-glass sharpness in his throat. ‘Sure. If it would help. It would go no further. I can promise you that. I mean, it’s not as if I’ll be hanging around after this weekend.’

  * * *

  Milla’s hands were shaking as Ed handed her the mug of tea. She was actually feeling sick now. Sick with tension. And fear.

  She’d been fine earlier this evening when Heidi had let fly with her chance comment about Heath Dixon. At the time, Heidi had merely stirred a bad memory that Milla had quickly dismissed. Once she’d been absorbed into the give-and-take of lively chatter around the barbecue she’d more or less forgotten about it.

  Later, though, when she and Ed were driving home, the memory had stolen back into her thoughts. This time, alone with Ed and the dark night, the memory had turned vicious, rousing a chain reaction of panicky thoughts about dates and boyfriends. Harry and Ed.

  Successive memories had spilled, one after the other, stirring her anxiety and guilt till she thought she might burst.

  And now...

  Why on earth had she thrown that half-smart Father Confessor question at Ed?

  Poor man...

  Being the conscien
tious and responsible type, he was now waiting...expecting...

  She watched his strong, squarish hands as he lowered the plunger, carefully, slowly, like a true coffee lover. He had no idea he was actually a part of her problem. How could she tell him?

  But perhaps a more pressing question was...how could she pass up this chance to explain the things she’d wanted to explain years ago? In another day Ed would be gone back to America, and this time he would certainly stay there. This was her best and last chance to set the record straight.

  But man, she was nervous... And where should she start?

  She stared at a spot on the floor, trying to summon her scattering courage. Closing her eyes, she said quickly, ‘When I was sixteen, a guy almost raped me.’

  It sounded terrible to hear it out loud in the silent, almost echoing space. But perhaps it was like loosening a cork out of a bottle and the rest would come more easily now.

  ‘A guy in high school?’ Ed prompted gently.

  Milla nodded. ‘Everyone looked up to him as the school heartthrob. I was supposed to be incredibly grateful that he did me the huge honour of asking me out.’ Nervously, she fiddled with the string attached to her herbal tea bag. ‘But on our first date, when I wouldn’t play it his way, he turned nasty.’

  ‘You poor girl.’

  It was helpful, the soft way Ed said this, as if he really cared. It gave Milla the courage to push on.

  ‘I panicked of course, which made the guy madder, and then he got even more violent.’

  She didn’t look at Ed, but she heard the clink when he set down his mug and out of the corner of her eye she saw his fist clench.

  ‘Does the son of a bitch still live around here?’

  ‘He’s long gone, Ed. Don’t worry. That was one of the first things I checked when I came back.’

  Ed nodded grimly. ‘But you’ve never told anyone about this?’

  ‘I couldn’t face the gossip. It’s the major downside of living in a small town. And as I said, this fellow was the school heartthrob. All the kids from here travelled to Parkes on the school bus. The other girls were jealous that he was paying attention to me. They knew as soon as he asked me out—he’d spread the word, I found out later. Everyone was waiting to hear what happened on our date.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Ed said quietly.

  ‘If they knew what really happened, it would have been hell. I just couldn’t bear seeing the pity or curiosity in everyone’s eyes. It was easier to let him tell his mates that I was frigid and he dumped me. I told my friends he was boring.’

  Ed was frowning still, watching her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘I presume he hurt you?’

  Milla nodded. ‘It was worse than I let on. I made an excuse that I’d tripped down the stairs. I should have won an Oscar for my brilliant acting. Even my parents believed my story about the bruises. No one ever dreamed the truth.’

  Ed made a soft sound, a sigh or a groan—Milla couldn’t be sure. ‘I assume you told Harry,’ he said after a bit.

  ‘No. This was something from my old life and I was trying to reinvent myself after I left here. Besides, it would have been too heavy for Harry. He hated anything deep and meaningful.’

  Ed scowled, but he didn’t look shocked. ‘I’m so sorry for what happened, Milla. I wish there was something I could say or do to make the memories go away.’

  What she needed was a hug—a comforting, platonic, Father Confessor–type hug. But she didn’t deserve any further kindness from this man, not after the way she’d so hastily and rudely ditched him in favour of his brother.

  What an idiot she’d been.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m OK,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Ed said gently, and with that he came closer and gathered her in.

  And after only a moment’s surprised hesitation, Milla sank against him, absorbing the strength of his arms around her as she leaned into the comforting solidity of his chest and buried her face in the lovely softness of his expensive cashmere sweater.

  What simple bliss a hug could be! Ed made her feel warm and safe. Comforted. There’d been precious little comfort for Milla lately, especially when she’d most needed it—after she’d lost her baby. In Ed’s arms, she felt as if she’d been on a long, exhausting and dangerous journey, and had finally stumbled into a safe haven.

  Resting her head on his shoulder, she couldn’t remember when she’d felt so thankful.

  Careless, selfish Harry had rarely tried to offer her comfort. She wasn’t sure he’d known how.

  Then again, she hadn’t expected Ed to show this degree of thoughtfulness either. And when it came to surprises—the very fact that she could let Ed hug her without getting nervous was another revelation. The calmness she felt in his arms tonight was very different from that first night they’d gone out, when the intoxicating fire and passion of their kiss had frightened her.

  But in the very midst of consoling herself with this comforting notion, Milla realised that her hormones had scooted way ahead of her thoughts. Already, she could feel her body reacting. Heat flared along her arms, and in her breasts, her stomach, wherever her body touched Ed’s. Coils of longing tightened low inside her.

  Perhaps it was just as well that Ed released her. But...oh, how she missed the power and warmth of him. Missed everything, actually, including—no, especially—the stirring excitement.

  But she couldn’t tell how Ed felt as he moved away to the safety of the far side of the workbench. He kept his gaze averted, although she could see that his mouth was a tight, downward-curving line.

  ‘Thanks for the hug.’

  He shrugged. ‘My...pleasure.’

  An awkward silence fell then, as if neither of them knew what to say. Almost simultaneously, they picked up their mugs.

  ‘I hope your coffee’s not too cold,’ Milla offered.

  Ed took a deep sip. ‘It’s fine.’

  She removed her tea bag, squeezed the excess liquid, and dropped it into the sink. It was so quiet in the bakery she could hear the cat, back in his bed, purring in his sleep.

  ‘So,’ Ed said at last, with just the tiniest hint of a smile returning. ‘Are they right?’

  Milla shot him a look of confusion. ‘Excuse me? They?’

  His eyes glinted with brief amusement. ‘They who say confession is good for the soul.’

  ‘Oh.’ She let out her breath on a soft sigh. Of course. She’d told her story and Ed had hugged her better, so he thought her confession was complete.

  Unfortunately, the hard part, the important part that concerned him, was still to come.

  ‘Actually, Ed—’ Her mouth was so dry now that her tongue wouldn’t work, but she couldn’t wimp out. She’d wanted to explain about this for so long. ‘Actually, I’m afraid there’s something else I need to tell you.’

  It wasn’t surprising that his eyes took on a new, wary alertness.

  ‘It’s something that still bothers me...something I feel guilty about.’

  Ed frowned. ‘There—there weren’t repercussions? He didn’t make you pregnant?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that happened. It’s just that—’

  She looked down at the remains of her peppermint tea, as if somehow the pale dregs could give her strength. Even though she was clutching the mug in both hands, she was shaking. She set the mug down. ‘You see...ever since what happened in high school, I’ve had a sort of phobia. I’ve—I’ve always got panicky when I’m out on a first date.’

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked hard, desperate to be rid of them. She couldn’t afford tears now. This was difficult enough for Ed, without making it worse by weeping. Men hated to see women cry.

  Right now, Ed was standing as stiffly as a sentry guard on duty, and his eyes looked agonised. ‘And you’re
telling me this because—’

  When he stopped, Milla nodded. ‘Because I panicked on our first date, when you took me to Harry’s party. That kiss we had was so—’ A suffocating heaviness pressed on her chest. Her eyes stung. ‘It was so overwhelming,’ she managed at last. ‘I—I loved it, but it frightened me.’

  Ed gave a stunned shake of his head, but in a matter of moments he was beside her again.

  ‘Milla.’ Her name was a mere whisper of breath.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She felt a little braver now that he was close. ‘I’ve always wanted to explain. To apologise. I’m scared of things getting too passionate, you see? Getting out of control with someone I don’t really know. I wanted to tell you, but it sounded so childish. I wanted to be sophisticated, like everyone else, but—’ She sighed. ‘I felt so silly.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Ed’s voice was strangled as he took her hands and clasped them in his.

  As his warmth enclosed her she stopped shaking.

  ‘Don’t keep punishing yourself,’ he said.

  ‘But I’ve always felt bad about the way I behaved that night. Leaving you and going off with Harry. It was so immature. Stupid.’

  ‘First-date syndrome,’ Ed said softly.

  She looked up sharply. Was he teasing her?

  But no. Although he was looking at her with a strangely lopsided smile, there was no sign of teasing in his clear grey eyes.

  ‘It’s a well-documented phenomenon,’ she said, joining his attempt to lighten the moment. ‘And I believe I’m a perfect case study.’

  But now, Ed’s smile was dying. ‘Thanks for telling me this, Milla. It actually means—’ His throat worked as he swallowed. ‘It means a lot, more than you probably realise.’

  For an electrifying moment, as their gazes held, she saw a look in his eyes that almost stopped her heart. If she’d been braver, she would have followed the urgings that clamoured deep within her. She would have taken a step closer and kissed him.

  Instead, she merely wondered.