by Ally Blake
She took the phone, her tone cool as she said, ‘This is Meg.’
‘Oh, thank God.’
‘Rylie?’
‘Honey, you have to come back. Now.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Quinn.’
Meg’s eyes slammed shut as wave after wave of anger rolled through her. Of all the moments the man could have picked to—The words clogged in her head and anger turned to guilt, which turned to too many emotions for her to keep up.
‘Tell me straight,’ she said, her voice astonishingly even. ‘Is he—?’
‘He’s had another heart attack.’
‘But he’s alive,’ she said.
‘He is. Brendan called my mobile when he couldn’t get through to yours. Tabby’s packing your stuff and we can be at your car in fifteen minutes.’
‘I’ll be there.’
She pulled the phone from her ear and suddenly didn’t know what to do with it.
Zach was already beside her, sliding it from her shaky grasp. Then his warm arms were around her, pulling her close, wrapping her tight.
‘What do you need me to do?’ he asked, her ear against his chest feeling the rumble of his words.
I want you to love me. I need you to let me go.
She said, ‘I have to go home.’
Home. Her life. Her father. God, could this be it? She realised she had begun to tremble.
Zach, on the other hand, was in complete control. He had already eased her down the bridge and across the yard before she even knew her feet were moving.
‘But Ruby,’ she said.
‘Felicia’s looking after her. I’ll explain later that you had an emergency and had to go early.’
‘What about her peanut butter on white bread? She was so excited.’
His arm at her back slid around her waist until he was cradling her and pressing her forward at the same time. She let him. Let herself steal as much of his kind of strength as she could get while she had the chance.
‘Felicia’s a pushover,’Zach said. ‘Ruby probably has that all the time and they simply don’t tell me. Feminine mystery. I’m learning to live with it.’ His voice grew deep and close as his lips settled on her hair. ‘Now stop worrying about us, and just walk.’
When she tripped over her own feet for the third time, Zach picked her up and carried her. She wrapped her arms about his neck and snuggled in. If he didn’t care who saw them like that, then neither did she. It cushioned the several kinds of dread inside her as nothing else could.
He put her down when they reached the garage behind Waratah House. Her momentum propelled her to Rylie, who gathered her up and swept her into the tight back seat of the already packed Jag.
‘Take care of her,’ she thought she heard Zach’s deep voice rumble as the engine gunned.
Rylie said, ‘Never fear, Mr Jones. We always do.’
The car backed out of its spot, and Meg looked up to find Zach was a silhouette already too far away for her to see his eyes. Already too far away to thank him. To tell him…anything.
Tabitha drove them out of the high white gates, while Rylie held her hand in the back seat.
It must have been a good deal over an hour later, though it only felt like minutes, when they rounded the final bend of the Pacific Motorway to see the towering silhouette of Brisbane’s glass and chrome skyline.
Kelly Tower—the home of the Kelly Investment Group—stood out tall and majestic, a gleaming reminder that she was nearly home. That within minutes she’d be slung back into the frantic, highpressure, achievement-driven life her whole family led. That once again her father—a man who likely would have preferred it if she weren’t even there—was about to become the centre of her life.
If it weren’t for the wilting white waxflower she cupped gently in her hand, she might have thought the past few days were all a dream.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A WEEK had gone by when Zach drove up to the imposing wrought-iron gates of the Kelly family’s Ascot home.
A week with no clue as to what was happening in Meg’s life bar what he read in every newspaper he could get his hands on, hoping he could trust what they said. A week spent living with the memory of her warm body wrapped around his as he slept in his now lonely bed. A week spent remembering that even while dealing with her worst nightmare Meg had still worried that Ruby might be upset about missing out on her peanut butter on white bread.
The gates of Kelly Manor opened as a florist’s van trundled down the long, imposing driveway. Mounds of press lurked outside, but none of them pushed into the grounds, showing a measure of respect that surprised him.
He stared them down as they peered into his car from a relatively safe distance. Him with his little girl in the back seat. His palms sweated so much he had to wipe them on his trousers.
He’d just have to get over it. The few months he was assured of having her all to himself he was no longer going to spend locking her away like some modern-day Rapunzel. The best thing he could do for her was to make sure she felt safe and loved, but also as if her future was one filled with boundless possibilities.
And while his little girl was blooming under his new philosophy, inside that huge house there was another woman in his life who was suffering. And he had no intention of abandoning either one.
He fixed the rearview mirror so he could catch Ruby’s eye. ‘Honey.’
‘Yeah, Dad.’
‘See all those people there? They’re newspaper and TV reporters. They have cameras, and will get very close to the car. If you don’t want your photo taken you can stick your head between your knees.’
‘I don’t mind.’
He turned to look over his shoulder. To look at his little girl. For a kid who had every reason to be as skittish as a newborn colt, she was one of the most gung-ho people he’d ever met. He could only hope that had a tiny bit to do with him.
‘Okay, then,’ he said, winking at her, ‘here we go.’
He gunned the engine, turned into the driveway. Flash bulbs blinded him enough he had to drive with one hand over his eyes, but he made it through the gate and up the long curving drive in one piece.
‘You all right, hon?’ he asked Ruby once they were clear of the throng.
She nodded, her eyes wide, before she turned to peek through the tinted back window. ‘Why did they want a photo of me?’
He smiled. ‘Because you’re just so adorable.’
She patted at the pink band around her head that Felicia had shown him how to slide into place in order to keep her long hair from her face. ‘Can we ask them for a copy of the picture so I can take it to school? Clarissa won’t believe me if I just tell her.’
Zach’s smile turned to laughter. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Tracking down a paparazzo for a favour was one of the crazier things he’d ever agreed to. Though when compared with the fortnight he’d had, maybe not.
He pulled his car in behind the red Jag that had taken Meg from him all those mornings ago. His hands gripped tight to the steering wheel as he remembered the haunted look in her eyes as she’d been driven away. He should have come sooner.
He was here now. He hoped that would be enough.
He held Ruby’s hand as they walked up the steps towards the Georgian-style manor, passing two lifesized statues of Irish wolfhounds. He tilted his head at the dogs and poked a face. Ruby giggled. And he knew that he wasn’t only here for himself—he was here for her.
Within seconds of his using the old-fashioned brass knocker, Meg’s mother, Mary Kelly herself, opened the door. He saw Meg in her eyes, the shape of her chin, and the same inability to hide her true feelings from him behind her practised smile.
She was exhausted, she was anxious, but her husband was still very much alive.
Zach said, ‘I’m so sorry to intrude, Mrs Kelly. My name is Zach Jones. I own the Juniper Falls Rainforest Retreat and was with Meg when she heard the news about your husband. I was hoping I migh
t be able to check how she and your husband were faring.’
‘Of course, Zach, please come right in,’ Mary said, welcoming him, a veritable stranger, into her home. This time he saw Meg in her natural warmth.
Ruby tucked in tight behind him so close she might as well have been sewn to his trousers. When Mary saw her, a spark lit her tired eyes. It was Meg all over again. He looked past her, wondering how close Meg might yet be.
Mary bent from the waist, placing her hands on her knees. ‘And who might this gorgeous creature be?’
‘This is Ruby,’ he said. ‘My daughter.’
Mary held out a hand and said, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Ruby. As will my granddaughters be. Violet and Olivia are playing outside in the rear gardens now with their uncle Dylan. Would you like to come and say hello?’
Zach glanced past Mary again and wondered if everyone was playing outside with Uncle Dylan. Then he crouched down to her level and held her hands. ‘Would you like to go outside and play? It’s entirely up to you.’
Mary held out a hand. Ruby took it. Trusting. Sociable. Like her mother.
‘James,’ Mary said to a liveried man Zach hadn’t even noticed standing by the entrance to what looked like a large sitting room, ‘would you kindly take Mr Jones to Meg. I believe she’s in the upstairs media room.’
‘This way, sir,’ James said before heading up the wide, carpeted stairs.
Family photographs lined the staircase wall. Dozens, dating back generations. He’d never had any photographs of his parents, and kept none of his childhood now. The Kelly wall of fame was thoroughly intimidating.
The closer they got to the top of the stairs, the more familiar faces became. Quinn and Mary sailing with two young boys scampering at their feet. The three boisterous-looking brothers, late teens, playing cricket in the backyard. And Meg at the beach, younger than Ruby was now, her bottom lip sticking out while her double scoop of ice cream melted on the ground at her feet.
And look at her now, he thought, his eyes resting on a much more recent picture of her walking down a city street, gorgeous in a silver party dress, pale pink high heels, hair flying as she grinned back at the camera. There was a measure of confidence in her eyes, secret confidence. He alone knew the hard work she’d done to feel as if she’d earned the right to hold her head high.
He reached out to wipe a smudge of dust from the picture.
‘Sir, this way,’ James said from the top of the stairs, his face discreetly averted.
Zach shoved his hands into his suit pockets and jogged the last few steps.
‘Miss Meg is in the room at the end of the hall,’ James said. ‘Shall I announce you?’
Zach shook his head, gave James a slap on the arm, then headed towards the slightly ajar double doors. He pressed one open. It made no sound.
The large room was filled with overstuffed chairs in old-fashioned plaids and florals, which mixed incongruously with the discreet silver surroundsound speakers, the wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves stacked with DVDs, and the state-of-the-art cinema set-up.
And at the edge of the room, curled up on a tub chair, staring absently out of the open double windows leading to a small balcony, sat Meg.
His chest clenched at the sight of her in loose jeans, red winter socks and a long-sleeved cream-and-red T-shirt that clung to her curves. She wore not a lick of make-up and her hair had been scragged back into a low bun from which several long curls had escaped. She played absently with her lower lip while some movie he recognised as having not even been released at the cinema played out quietly on the massive projector screen behind her.
Now he was there he realised it was testimony of his years of obstinate will power that he’d managed to go without sight of her for a full week. And now he was there, now she was so close, he couldn’t wait a second more.
He planted his feet and cleared his throat.
She glanced up. Dark circles ringed her deep blue eyes, making them look bruised. They took a moment to focus. Then she frowned. ‘Zach?’
He nodded, suddenly not trusting his voice.
She dragged herself to her sock-clad feet and slowly walked to him as though she might be imagining him. He dug his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from taking the final steps and dragging her into his arms and kissing her for all he was worth.
‘How’s your father?’ he asked.
She shook her head. Then nodded. ‘He’s had two more attacks this week. He’s lucid, his blood pressure is stable, but he’s fading and refusing to go to hospital no matter what any of us say.’
Her eyes flickered at that last part, and he wondered if she’d been one of the ones suggesting it, or if she’d stubbornly kept out of his way.
She waved a hand over her face as though swatting away a fly. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘You left in such a hurry. You were so upset. I couldn’t let you stay away without knowing…’ God, this was much harder than telling Ruby how much he cared. ‘Without knowing I’ve been thinking of you.’
Day and night. Night and day. He’d been sure he’d heard her laughter around the resort, caught her jasmine scent.
The sound of real laughter, children’s laughter, spilled through the window and like a mother hen Meg upped and headed out through the French doors to check see. Zach followed.
From the small balcony he saw Ruby sitting on Mary’s lap watching Meg’s nieces, clad in fairy dresses and tiaras, running around the backyard flying kites. Below, sitting in matching white cane chairs and drinking iced tea, like something out of The Great Gatsby, a slew of other Kellys—brothers, sisters, uncles, cousins, grandparents—watched on.
‘You brought Ruby here?’ Meg asked, her voice thin, her hands gripping the concrete balustrade as if she were preparing to vault down onto the lawn and whisk Ruby away from the clutches of her family.
He understood why she’d resisted the idea of having children. But she was made to be a mum. She was a natural protector, an instinctive defender of those who couldn’t defend themselves. As a child she might not have been able to fight back when she was pushed down, but now? Now she was a warrior.
As far as he saw it, the only thing standing in the way of her fighting for her own happiness with as much purpose as she did so for others was fear. A broken-down ego was a fragile thing. Not easily repaired. He just had to make her see how strong she had become.
He said, ‘She overheard me explaining to Felicia that your dad was sick. She wouldn’t let me visit without her, or we would have been here sooner. She wanted to make sure you were okay.’
‘Me? Is she okay?’ Meg asked, her eyes glued to Ruby. ‘I mean, is this making her think too much about her mum being sick? I’d hate to be the one to bring all that back up again.’
‘She’s fine. She’s curious. She’s amazing, really. Tough when she needs to be, and soft when she can be.’
Just like you, he wanted to say, but he knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. Yet.
Meg spun on him, a ghost of her usual spirit flashing in her eyes bringing colour back to her cheeks. She shoved a finger into his chest, backing him into the shadow of the doorway. ‘Do you have any idea how many reporters are camped out on the other side of your gate?’
‘I drove in that way,’ he said calmly, ‘so, yes.’
‘They’re not as dim as they look, Zach. They’ll have seen you. They’ll have seen Ruby. They’ll know who you are. They’ll figure out who she is. She’s cute, and funny, and female and your sole heir. They’ll eat her alive. Didn’t you hear a word I said?’
He reached out and held her upper arms; she calmed instantly, blinking up at him as if she were really seeing him for the first time. Her energy coursed through him like a wildfire and he wanted to kiss her so badly he had to grind his teeth to distract himself.
‘I’m fully aware of all that,’ he said. ‘But I’m done hiding. I’m not going to teach her that’s the best way to live because it’s not. We’ve decided
that life can come at us from any angle now and we’ll take it on together.’
Meg blinked at him. She felt so small, but so warm, beneath his hands. She was his match, his inspiration, someone he wanted to know everything about, someone he wanted right beside him as he leapt into the new chapters of his life.
As a five-year-old his happiness had been in the hands of strangers; as a thirty-five-year-old his happiness was his to reach out and grab.
‘So in that same vein, here we are,’ he said, emphasising each of the last three words.
At the last second he held back from adding, And we’re yours if you’ll have us. She’d work it out. She had to. All it had ever taken for them to understand one another was a look.
He lifted a hand to run the backs of his fingers gently down her beautiful cheek. And saw the moment she understood when a flare of awareness lit her dazzling blue eyes. The same flare ignited in his stomach.
He swept a curl from her eyes. Then another until his hands cupped the sides of her face. He could practically taste her, feel the soft fullness of that mouth against his.
Suddenly she twisted out of his grasp, turned her back on him, and walked back into the room.
‘Has anyone offered you a drink? Would you like some lemonade? James has made bucketloads and it’s magic. Really. He could sell the stuff and retire rich and never have to open another door for any of us again.’
He took a step towards her, arm outstretched. She slid gracefully behind an ottoman.
‘Meg.’
She breathed deep and sank down onto the ottoman, as though she was so tired of fighting she could no longer stand.
He moved towards her. She held out a hand using the international sign for back off, and it stopped him in his tracks.
Her voice came to him, husky and defeated, as she said, ‘Last weekend my family had been trying to get through to me for half an hour but I’d turned off my phone. I was heading to be with you and Ruby and it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist if I wanted to believe that I could have what you have—a clean, fresh, new start.’ She looked up at him. ‘But this is who I am. This is where I need to be.’
