Then she put a chicken casserole she’d made a couple of days earlier into the oven to reheat, and, while she waited for Reece, she went to her room and opened her wardrobe. She supposed she should start planning the best way to pack up her clothes and all Rosie’s things.
She felt sick at the thought. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to leave, and she and Reece hadn’t talked about it yet, but the depressing fact was, her job here was finished. Reece had only employed her because he’d needed someone to help care for his father.
Now, sadly, there was no valid reason for her to stay. Perhaps, if she hadn’t slept with Reece, she might have stayed on as his housekeeper, but they’d complicated things, and he hadn’t bothered with a housekeeper before she came. She didn’t fancy staying on as some kind of ‘kept woman’, and she still had her debts hanging over her head. So there was no point in dragging out the inevitable.
* * *
Reece arrived in the kitchen, showered and changed, just as Jess was taking the casserole out of the oven.
‘That smells sensational. Perfect for a cool, rainy night.’
‘It’s one of my favourite recipes,’ she admitted. ‘I’m sure you’ve had it before.’
He came over and stood close to her. She was conscious of the warmth of him by her shoulder, watching as she lifted the lid, releasing the aromas of chicken and garlic and herbs.
‘We had this on that first night in Cairns,’ he said. ‘Remember?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ It was the night the repossession guys arrived. A night she’d much rather forget, except that Reece’s company and their dinner conversation had been so very, very pleasant.
‘We fantasised about a holiday in New York,’ she said as she ladled food onto plates.
‘So we did. Winter in Manhattan.’
Jess didn’t return his smile. The fantasy was more alluring than ever now, possibly because she knew with certainty it could never happen. To her dismay, her eyes welled with tears and she was struggling not to cry.
Keeping her face averted, she concentrated fiercely on dishing up their meal, and by the time they were seated she’d managed to resurrect a half-mast smile. ‘So how are your cattle?’ she asked brightly. ‘Are they all safely away from the creek?’
‘Yep. I think they should be fine.’
‘I still find it hard to believe the creek could come up so quickly.’
‘Actually, it’s amazing how fast it can happen. It all depends on how much rain has already fallen further to the north.’
‘Does the gorge fill up as well?’
‘Everything can flood. The roads can be cut.’
‘Are you saying that I could be stranded here?’
Reece gave a shrugging smile. ‘Why do you think we have such a big pantry and cold room?’
Something in her expression must have alerted him. He put down his knife and fork, his face suddenly wary. ‘Are you planning to leave soon?’
Jess’s food went down too quickly and she had to swallow again before she could answer. ‘I imagine I’ll have to go, Reece. You employed me to help keep an eye on Michael.’
‘But we both know you’ve done so much more than that—with the house and—and everything.’
‘Well, yes. I’ve loved working here. In many ways, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I suppose I could stay on for a week or two.’ If you keep paying me. Missing so little as a week’s wages would cause a dangerous hiccup in her repayments.
‘A week or two?’
She didn’t like to suggest that she could stay until he was feeling calmer.
‘I—I’ll need to find another job.’
Reece’s jaw tightened. ‘Of course.’
She’d never seen such hardness in his face. ‘Maybe tonight’s not the night to talk about this.’
‘Why not?’
His scowl reminded her so much of Michael she wanted to cry. ‘Are you angry?’
‘Why should I be angry?’
This was going nowhere. Jess knew it was futile to try to discuss how either of them really felt about her leaving. Those issues were emotional and her employment was a business matter. Besides, on the emotional front they’d made promises to each other. No strings. No ties. No expectations.
Her task was clear. She had to convince Reece that she wanted to leave Warringa, even though it would almost destroy her to walk away from him.
Oh, help.
Her fork clattered from her suddenly nerveless fingers as the painful realisation struck home. She loved Reece.
She didn’t just lust after him. She loved everything about him—who he was, how he behaved, how his mind worked, even where he lived.
Her romance with Alan had been a youthful whirlwind—the whole ‘marry in haste and repent at leisure’ scenario.
Her relationship with Reece was different in every way. She knew him inside out. She’d lived with him for eight long weeks and she felt intimately connected to him on so many levels. They were linked by all those strings they’d claimed didn’t exist.
She loved Reece through and through, but she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.
Reece was frowning at her now. ‘I won’t try to keep you here, Jess. Not if you want to leave. I know you said that you have to go. You have plans...’
Yes...she had plans to find a new job, and to keep chipping away the debts she’d inherited. She had plans to one day be free of her most pressing problems and to eventually find a nice little cottage with a garden for Rosie to play in, a kindergarten nearby.
‘Jess.’
She jumped as Reece’s warm hand closed over hers.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked gently.
Of course she wasn’t OK. She was falling apart at the thought of leaving here. Leaving him.
‘Hey.’ His harshness had melted, and now the hint of a smile warmed his eyes as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
She stared at his hand covering hers, suntanned and tough, familiar. His thumbnail was slightly frayed and she felt an impulse to kiss it, to feel that jagged edge drag against her lips.
‘You know you don’t have to go.’
This was so hard. She so, so wanted to stay. This man and his home were her versions of paradise. She would stay in a heartbeat if he wanted her to, and if she didn’t have such a huge mountain of debt.
It killed her that Reece was being gentle and concerned now. She’d found it easier to be strong when he was angry with her.
‘You wouldn’t have to stay on as my housekeeper,’ he said next, and his dark eyes shimmered with all kinds of emotions. ‘You could stay here—’
He stopped, and swallowed awkwardly.
What was he trying to say?
‘A live-in lover?’ Jess suggested, and, despite the longing that coiled tight and hot inside her, she forced her voice to remain cool.
‘As my wife.’
His wife? She gasped as the floor seemed to give way beneath her. This was the last thing she’d expected.
It seemed too big to take in.
Too wonderful.
Too perfect.
If only...
If only she were free. If only she weren’t buried beneath those debts. Reece would be shocked if he knew how much she still owed. She couldn’t possibly ask him to take on her financial burden.
Her mouth twisted out of shape as she tried to find a way to answer him. ‘I—I’m so sorry, Reece.’
His chair scraped on the floor as he rose abruptly. ‘Of course,’ he said tightly. ‘Don’t worry. I understand.’
But you don’t.
He looked terrible and raw and Jess’s throat burned with welling tears. She knew Reece would assume she didn’t love him or his lifestyle. He couldn’t trust any woman to like it out here.
Oh, God. If only she could explain, but how could she tell him about the debts without implying that she needed his help to pay them? The debts were her problem. She’d inherited them from Alan, and she’d inh
erited a streak of independence from her mother, and there was no way she could drag the financial troubles from her first husband into a brand-new marriage.
Miserably, she watched the tense angle of Reece’s shoulders as he stood at the sink, now with his back stiffly to her.
‘If we can get across the creek, you’ll want to leave first thing in the morning.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, without emotion.
So soon?
‘I’ll drive you to Cairns.’
‘No, I wouldn’t expect you to do that. I’ll get a bus from Gidgee Springs.’
He turned, his face unrecognisably stony and cold. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Jess found it too painful to look at him and she dropped her gaze to his plate where the chicken and sauces were cooling and beginning to congeal.
To her surprise, he sat down again and picked up his knife and fork as if nothing had happened.
* * *
Reece ate without tasting the food, determined to hold himself together. He couldn’t believe he’d been so freaking stupid as to ask Jess to marry him.
Where the hell had that come from?
He’d had no intention of proposing to her. What was the point? He’d known from the start that she’d never planned to stay here, and he had enough history behind him to know better. He and Jess had even talked about it and they’d set boundaries. Nice, clear, safe boundaries with no sentimentality or emotion.
Yet somehow tonight, in a crazy moment of weakness, he’d fooled himself into thinking that his dad’s suggestion was possible, that he and Jess could have a happy future here. And he’d misinterpreted the soft warmth in her eyes.
Sympathy, yes.
Love?
No way.
Certainly not enough love to sustain her at Warringa through the long hot summers, through the isolating wet seasons, through the difficulties of School of the Air and every other challenge the outback flung at its women.
Unfortunately, his pride wouldn’t allow him to go storming off like a wounded bull. He forced himself to eat.
* * *
Jess had no idea life could feel so bad. She’d suffered loss and disappointment, but nothing had left her feeling as empty as she felt this evening when she went back to her room to start packing.
It took a while, and, when the clothes were packed, she went through the house, picking up small toys, stray baby socks and picture books. Reece was in his bedroom with the door closed and she moved quietly, not wanting to disturb him, not wanting to face him again this evening.
When she’d packed everything except clothes for the morning and her toothbrush, she showered and changed into a nightdress, slipped into bed and turned out the lamp, then she lay, stiff as a board, staring into the darkness.
Remembering...
She remembered Reece here in bed with her. Remembered his lips on her skin, the pleasurable weight of him on top of her, beneath her, the power and excitement.
She thought about Reece with Rosie, so gentle and loving. Recalled his patience with his dad. Her excitement when they’d first cleaned up these lovely rooms. Remembered right back to the night he’d found her on the edge of the road.
Now, she was losing everything. Losing the best person she’d ever known. And now, after she’d recalled every precious detail of her time here with Reece and every wonderful reason why she loved him, she tortured herself by reliving his offer of marriage.
You don’t have to go. You could stay here...as my wife.
Oh, God. She should have said yes. The impulse to leap up now and run to him was so strong, Jess needed every bit of her strength to stay, curled in a tight ball of pain, while her head waged battle with her heart.
If she stayed here she could be happy. If she stayed nothing would have to change. She could marry a good and gorgeous man and live in his fabulous homestead, sharing his life, making him happy. He deserved happiness.
Oh, it was still so-o-o tempting, so enticing to shove aside all those strong reasons why she mustn’t stay.
But she knew they would catch up with her in time. The universe would once again pull the rug from under her. After all, Reece hadn’t actually said that he loved her. And she couldn’t accept his proposal without telling him about the debts—and he’d be so disillusioned. He’d never believe she was marrying him for love.
No, she had to be strong for his sake, had to save him from another bitter disappointment, had to walk away now, before they got in too deep, before she broke his heart, just as his mother had.
But what about my heart?
With a moan, Jess buried her face in her pillow and let the hot tears fall.
* * *
She slept deeply, totally drained, emotionally and physically, and woke to a grey and miserable morning. Rosie was already awake and playing happily in her cot, innocently unaware that her life was about to abruptly change.
Dressed, Jess went to the kitchen, planning to make breakfast as usual, but she found Reece was already there with a pot of tea and eggs coming to the boil.
‘Good morning, Reece.’
‘Morning.’ No sign of his usual smile. ‘Rosie will have a boiled egg, won’t she?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
It was awful, so stilted, as if they were strangers. Or enemies. Jess set Rosie in her high chair and the baby banged a spoon and chortled, while Jess concentrated on feeding her with toast soldiers dipped in egg.
‘I checked the bus timetables,’ Reece said. ‘There’s one leaving for Cairns at ten. If we leave after breakfast you’ll be in Gidgee Springs in plenty of time.’
‘OK. That’s good, thanks. I’m packed.’
‘Good.’
Jess’s throat was so tight she could barely swallow her tea, let alone toast. She realised she couldn’t even try to eat the egg. Reece made no comment when she left it untouched.
As soon as Rosie was finished, she made her excuses.
‘If you leave your bags in the hallway, I’ll stow them in the truck,’ Reece said.
‘Thanks.’
She couldn’t bring herself to ask him what he wanted to do about the high chair and the cot. He would probably put them in storage and use them for his own baby one day.
Oh, God. She was fighting tears as she hurried away.
Ten minutes later, she and Rosie emerged from their little suite of rooms for the last time. Reece was waiting on the front veranda and his dark eyes regarded them sternly.
‘All set to go?’
No.
Jess nodded, however, and told herself yet again that she mustn’t be selfish. She and Rosie were leaving for all the right reasons. She just had to walk down those steps. Get this over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RETURNING to Warringa alone was like taking a step back in time for Reece, back to his painful past...
The empty rooms were all too familiar and yet the heartache was worse than anything he’d ever suffered before. Loneliness now was a physical pain, raw and bleeding.
He saddled a horse and took off, riding for hours till he and the horse were exhausted, but when he came home the house was still empty and the pain hadn’t eased in the slightest.
It didn’t ease over the next few weeks either. He knew Jess and Rosie were gone, but he kept expecting to hear the baby’s giggle, to round a corner and encounter the warmth of Jess’s smile.
Somehow, some-crazy-how, he had to learn to live without them, but all he really wanted was to chase after them, to at least make amends for the hopeless hash he’d made of his marriage proposal.
You could stay here...as my wife...
Bloody hell. Had any man delivered a less romantic proposal?
No wonder Jess turned him down.
He hadn’t given himself even half a chance. He hadn’t told her about the joy she’d brought into his life. He was so unused to talking about love—the word was barely in his vocabulary. He’d more or less assumed Jess could somehow guess that she and her daughter were precious to him
.
It was more than possible that he’d made the same mistake as his dad—never letting the woman he loved understand her true worth. And now history was repeating itself.
There was only one good thing—the expectation of loss was so ingrained in Reece that, despite his despair, he could accept Jess’s departure as his fate.
Hadn’t he known from the night she arrived in his life that this was how it must end?
* * *
It was a long lonely month after Jess left, when the car arrived. The white city sedan was almost completely covered with red dust by the time it pulled up at Warringa’s front steps. The driver was paunchy, with thinning hair combed over his bald patch, and he was wheezing and stiff as he climbed out.
He retrieved a bulging laptop bag from the back seat, slammed the door and squinted up at the homestead.
Reece, in his study, dealing with paperwork, had watched the arrival and now he rose slowly, without enthusiasm. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors. He was certainly in no mood to be sociable with a stranger from the city. He didn’t bother to smile as he went out onto the veranda.
He met the visitor at the top of the front steps. ‘G’day.’
‘G’day to you, sir.’ The fellow’s smile was a borderline grimace. ‘I’m here to speak to Mrs Jessica Cassidy.’
Reece stiffened. He’d been trying so hard to put Jess out of his mind, and now everything he’d ever felt for her came back in a painful rush.
‘She isn’t here,’ he said sternly. ‘Perhaps I can help you.’
The caller shook his head. ‘I need to speak to Mrs Cassidy personally. Will she be back soon?’ He frowned at Reece. ‘She’s a resident here, isn’t she?’
Everything about this fellow bothered Reece. Pale and paunchy, he had the air of a guy who spent way too much time perched on a barstool in a smoky pub. ‘Sorry, but who are you? What’s this about?’
‘Ron Harvey from IMP Financial Services.’ He flashed a card and Reece’s eyes fixed on two words: Debt Collectors.
Fine hairs lifted on his skin.
‘It’s important that I speak to Mrs Cassidy,’ the fellow went on, full of brash self-importance. ‘If we can’t get recovery of her debt, she’ll be appearing in court.’
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