Leath's Legacy

by Anne Ashby

  “Toiletries,” Leath reminded him, and he dashed from the room just as Kirk arrived with a bowl and a handful of cloths.

  “They’re sterile,” he told her. “We keep a supply on hand.”

  Leath bathed the leg, talking to Fiona, reassuring her.

  “What else can we do?” Cade dropped the zipped bag onto the bed, along with a large imitation mink blanket.

  “Would you have any magnesium sulphate?” she asked. Perhaps farmers kept such things. “A poultice might draw out the poison.”

  “Mum might.” His mother must have been sitting by the phone. A moment later he reported, “They’ve got some. She’ll have a poultice ready as we go past.”

  Leath nodded. There was very little else to do, except pray.

  Very carefully Cade picked up his moaning wife and carried her to the waiting car. Kirk had pushed down the back seats and thrown in some pillows. He ushered three very frightened children into the front while Cade and Leath climbed in beside Fiona. The ride would be agonising for the ill woman, every bump and undulating movement like a knife piercing into her.

  There was no time for introductions when they stopped at the home farm. The car’s back door flew open and a dressing-gowned woman with grey hair held out an electric jug toward Leath. Grateful the woman knew about poultices, Leath peeled the cotton square off the warmth of the kettle and spread its pasted side over Fiona’s wound.

  “Come on inside, kids.” Their grandmother ushered the sobbing little girl and two solemn-faced boys away.

  Kirk travelled as fast as safety...but not the law...allowed, but the journey still took forever. Fiona’s feeble jokes about her brother-in-law’s lack of driving skills as they hit yet another bump had encouraged Leath to think they’d get her to hospital in time for antibiotics to catch the poison. But all too soon her patient’s increased shivers and clammy skin had Leath praying hard.

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn coloured the eastern sky when Kirk drove into Leath’s driveway. The silence accompanying their return from town continued as they sat emotionally drained.

  His face tight from the strain of the last hours Kirk rubbed his forehead, muscles cording along his jaw line and down his neck. “It was so bloody quick.”

  Leath nodded. Fiona had deteriorated so quickly, and there’d been nothing she could do.

  Except pray.

  “I should have driven faster.”

  He’d been their rock in the tumultuous tide of helplessness and fear. Outwardly calm and controlled, he’d dealt with every practical matter until the helicopter disappeared into the darkness. Only now did he allow the strain to show.

  “You were great.”

  Kirk’s drooped head shot up and swivelled toward her. Surprise darkened his eyes.

  “Well, you were.” Startled at the warm praise dribbling from her mouth, Leath bit her bottom lip. Though well-deserved, she needn’t become effusive. Must be tiredness. Tone it down, for heaven’s sake. “There was nothing maniacal about your driving, despite Fiona’s comments. You got us there.”

  His head slumped back against the headrest, his eyes closed. “Yeah, but did the helicopter get her to hospital in time?”

  They didn’t know.

  They wouldn’t know until Cade rang. Wouldn’t know whether Fiona was alive or dead.

  “They had a drip going before they even left the ground. I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Leath murmured.

  “Oh God! I hope you’re right.”

  Leath’s stomach squirmed. Was it caused by tiredness or lack of food? More likely lack of coffee. Yeah, she needed caffeine.

  It couldn’t be anything else, anything emotional. Okay, so they’d spent a few very fervent hours together, and viewing Kirk in a different light—he wasn’t Fiona’s husband—wouldn’t cause this weird churning inside her.

  It had nothing to do with seeing Kirk’s vulnerable side, either. This strong, determined man wasn’t ashamed to show feelings of inadequacy. And that made him even more attractive.

  Attractive?

  Leath felt her eyes bulge. She wasn’t attracted to Kirk Buchanan. She couldn’t be.

  Why not? Whispered the voice of unreason which intruded all too frequently.

  He wasn’t married. At least, she thought not.

  He wasn’t Fiona’s. So there’d be no betrayal of a budding friendship.

  But he wasn’t trustworthy! That was the bottom line. He might have incredible eyes a girl could drown in, but he couldn’t be trusted. He wanted their property. She mustn’t allow an attraction for him to blind her. Remember, he wanted their property.

  Leath unglued her gaze from his face when he lifted his eyelids.

  “I need to get home. Mum and the kids must be frantic. I have to be with them, in case...”

  Leath swallowed the lump choking her as thought of Fiona returned. Stiffly climbing from the car she bit her lip as guilt swamped her. Worrying about trivial rubbish while Fiona—her heart thumped.

  Waving away his thanks, Leath watched until the car swung onto the road and disappeared around the corner.

  Damn! She gave the front step a good kick. She still didn’t have their phone number. The hospital would tell her nothing. Leath would have to rely on Kirk sharing any news.

  Trudging into the house, Leath frowned as she recalled Kirk’s concern for his family. But wouldn’t his father be there, as well, to provide any added moral support that might be needed? Surely it wasn’t solely up to Kirk to be the backbone of his family during this time of stress?

  Leath frowned. He hadn’t mentioned his father. There had been no sign of the older Buchanan when they’d dropped the kids, although their grandmother was clearly worried and upset. Had he slept through the uproar? She grimaced. She wouldn’t have let her partner sleep on, she’d have wanted—no needed—his support and comfort.

  She paused, remembering hearing snippets of conversation at Fiona’s house while they arranged for the children’s care. Kirk’s father hadn’t been mentioned there, either.

  Odd that Kirk was concerned about how frantic his mother and the children would be and yet not include his father. Could there be some medical explanation for the apparent odd behaviour?

  ****

  A tooting horn stopped Leath’s painting, and she dashed outside. The smile on Kirk’s face as he pulled to a stop allowed the pent-up tension to drain from her body.

  He spoke through the truck’s window without preamble. “She’s going to be all right.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Leath breathed.

  They shared a relieved smile as Kirk got out of his vehicle. “Cade’s not sure how long she’ll be in hospital, but she’s okay.” Kirk stepped closer. “He said we owed her life to you.”

  Leath coloured under his intense scrutiny, and shrugged away his suggestion.

  “He was serious.”

  Prudence shifted her from his closeness. Leath found his attention too compelling.

  “We’d have waited for the doctor and wasted at least another hour. An hour could have been fatal for Fiona.”

  Kirk was even closer. His breath touched her cheek before he took her into his arms. When she offered no resistance he hugged her.

  “Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts,” he whispered against her hair. “If we had lost Fiona...” His voice broke and his arms tightened around her.

  Danger. Danger! Leath ignored the screaming voice inside her head, breathing in the lemony scent of him. Common sense told her Kirk was expressing gratitude, but her body was relishing his strength a little too much.

  While anyone in their right mind would accept his hug was asexual, her thoughts danced about erratically, focusing as far from asexual as the spectrum could travel.

  Only just stopping shivers—she wasn’t examining what caused them—from racing up and down her body, Leath was acutely aware of every place their bodies met. She felt one of his legs against hers and was coherent enough to be thankful he wore trousers, no
t shorts like her. Bare skin against bare skin...Heat flooded through her veins, spurring her pulse rate a notch higher.

  She felt his hands slip a little further down her back. Their hips were glued. Her chest crushed against him, her breasts tingled from the pressure being forced upon them. Her breathing became shallow, the little gasps sucked in past her lips dried her mouth.

  This was stupid.

  Crazy.

  She had to move away. But freewill had deserted her.

  For the first time in such a long while she gave up being strong. She’d shift in a minute. Soon. Until then, her head rested against his shoulder, only just resisting the urge to burrow itself in closer.

  Her arms itched to travel from where they’d landed across his back. To caress, to tighten. Thank God they hadn’t journeyed anywhere before Kirk loosened his hold. Embarrassed heat flooded Leath’s face and she frantically sought a way to hide her reaction to his touch.

  “I was just going to take a break.” God, I hope my voice sounds normal. “How about a coffee?”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  A glance at his face sent her rushing inside, waffling something about Fiona over her shoulder.

  Had he been as aware of the changing temperature of that clinch as she was? More heat flooded her cheeks. He hadn’t guessed what I’d been thinking, had he?

  Chiding herself, she fumbled filling the jug and clanked the mugs together as she put them onto the bench. Forcing a couple of deep breaths into her deflated lungs, she made herself count to ten before she reached for the coffee makings.

  Not allowing herself to look at Kirk, she was still aware of every move he made as he wandered around.

  “You haven’t done anything inside the house?”

  Talking about the property might be just what she needed. Aware he’d be digging for information, it should dispel any silly ideas. “Not really.” One little room didn’t count. “We want to cash in on the summer season.”

  His mouth tightened, but she chose to ignore that. “Although we hope people will come all year.” Then she tacked on flippantly, “Help pay the rates and insurance, you know.”

  “You’ve done an enormous amount of work outside.” He stood looking out the French doors. “It must be costing you a packet.”

  Leath smiled as she poured boiling water into the plunger. Not as much as you might expect, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue. He probably wasn’t the type to appreciate how good friends rallied about when needed.

  He’s still hanging onto the possibility of us giving up.

  Memory of the touch of his hard body slipped away as she stared at his back. He still wasn’t accepting the obvious. With a shake of her head she decided it wasn’t worth repeated for an umpteenth time. They weren’t leaving. Nor giving up, no matter how much he might hope.

  ****

  Kirk turned as footsteps approached. He accepted the mug Leath held out.

  “If it’s too strong...”

  “It’ll be fine.” Kirk walked outside, thankful she’d opened the glass doors. Whether it was her perfume or shampoo, or maybe even the soap she used he had no idea, but his nose was still full of the scent surrounding her. Standing at the edge of the patio, he kept his eyes averted, even as they hankered to feast on her face.

  He rolled his tight shoulders, aware of sweat gathering on his back. How he’d managed to let her go earlier when his body clamoured for closer contact, he didn’t know. But it had been essential. An urgent move before she felt the evidence of his reaction to her closeness.

  Somehow he had to put this meeting on a more companionable footing. Until perhaps one day...

  “Penny used to have a big swing seat out here,” he mused, pointing across the patio. “I remember playing on it when we were kids.”

  Leath sank onto the concrete block wall at the patio’s edge, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him.

  “What was she like?”

  Kirk swallowed, the light in those dark eyes quickening his breathing. He sat down, making sure there was distance between them. He frowned as her words registered. “Don’t you know?”

  His frown deepened as a sad, wistful expression flitted across her face. It was some moments before she answered.

  “No.” The word wobbled off her tongue. She dragged in a huge breath before raising her gaze back to his. “We have no idea who Penelope Maguire was.”

  “What?” Hot coffee spilled on his knee as astonishment grabbed him. “But...”

  “We’d never heard of her until her solicitor summoned us to tell us we were beneficiaries.”

  “But...never?” Kirk couldn’t find any words that worked together.

  Leath jumped up and paced the patio. Her agitated movements revealed just how disconcerted this made her feel.

  Gob-smacked, his gaze followed her erratic steps.

  “The first time we came here, I got a feeling I’d been here before.” She shivered. “Then I found photos, lots of photos of me and Robby.”

  His chest tightened at the beseeching look she sent him.

  “There was one of me and Penelope, taken right there.” She pointed along the house to the front steps. “I was four.”

  Leath wrapped her arms around herself, her shaking head displaying her confusion. “I have to find out who she was, but I can’t. There’s nothing. Nothing anywhere to tell us why she’d give us this place.”

  Before being able to voice his own confusion, Leath stiffened her back and continued. “I’m hoping a close friend of my mother’s might know, but she’s away until after Christmas. I can’t wait until then. I’ll find some other way, somehow.”

  Kirk applauded her determination. “Won’t this friend of your mother’s have a cellphone with her? Or you could email her? She’ll pick up her emails even though she’s away from home.”

  Leath’s face twisted with a wry smile. “You don’t know Aunt Amy. She’s technologically challenged and proud of it. She won’t have a computer in the house. Being at someone else’s beck and call twenty-four, seven doesn’t sit well with her.”

  Leath shook her head. “They’re touring Europe. Someone will have their itinerary for safety sake, but otherwise...” She shrugged, staring out over the water.

  Then swinging around to face him she demanded, “Tell me something about Penelope.” Her voice lost its strength until the last word escaped as an entreaty. “Anything.”

  Sympathetically, he patted the wall beside him. “Sit down. I’ll tell you as much as I can.” He thought quickly. “Mum will be able to tell you so much more. I’ll take you up to the farm, and you can ask her as well.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Kirk felt his lips tighten at the surprise in her voice.

  “But you’re so angry we’re here.”

  Kirk struggled to swallow. The character he’d displayed to date hadn’t been a particularly virtuous one, but he’d imagined the situation very different from how Leath now painted it.

  “I want this property. I’ve made no bones about that, so I’m not going to pretend otherwise now.” His voice was stiff. He hated apologising and made damned sure he didn’t need to very often. However this was one instance he must admit to being misguided. “I was wrong to accuse you of ignoring an old lady and leaving her to die alone.”

  “That’s all right.” Her soft voice warmed his insides. “You couldn’t have known.”

  Unfamiliar emotion stirred within him. He’d seen Leath in many different moods—angry, determined, wonderfully caring as she nursed Fiona, confused, even frightened...although she’d tried hard to hide that emotion when he’d found her in the bush. But now the vulnerability in her eyes struck something deep inside him. He had to withstand the impulsive urge to gather her into his arms and promise he’d solve all her problems.

  Instead he held himself stiff, hands clenching his mug, afraid they’d sneak along the wall to touch her if he didn’t restrain them.

  Making his gaze focus on th
e beach and sea beyond, he coughed to clear a blockage stuck somewhere in his windpipe. Breathing became easier as he concentrated on dredging up memories of Penny. Talking about her would allow him to regain control of his wayward body’s surprising reaction to this woebegone woman.

  “She was a great cook, she made the greatest cakes.” His taste buds reacted at the memory, bringing a faint smile. “Cade and I often used to sneak in here on the way home from school for a feed. Penny always had tins of homemade biscuits or these giant sponge cakes filled with cream.”

  He glanced at Leath’s attentive face. “She’d stop whatever she was doing and dish us up a drink and a feast of the most amazing food.” He laughed. “That was fine in the summer because Mum served dinner much later, but man, in the winter it was tough. We had to pretend we were starving.”

  “Your mother didn’t know you called in?”

  “Not until Jenny blabbed one day and dropped us right in it. She was jealous.”

  “Jealous? Why?”

  “Penny never cared overly much for her. She never invited Jenny to come, too. I guess it rankled.”

  Kirk gave a lopsided grin as Leath’s eyebrows shot up. Thinking about it, he supposed he’d have been pretty peeved, too. Especially as he and Cade made no attempt to include Jenny in their good fortune.

  “Penny was a great sort, full of stories. She loved to joke around and used to laugh a lot.” He grinned as a particular memory caught hold. “Her laugh was more like a cackle. The weirdest noise you’d ever hear coming out of a person.” He attempted what he knew wasn’t even a close imitation.

  Leath’s responding smile caused his chest to expand, just a little. He refocused. “Looking back, I think us playing down here helped combat her loneliness. George had a heart attack when I was about eight or ten, I guess...”

  He paused trying to remember. “I do remember him, but not very clearly. It was sad they never had children. She’d have been an amazing mother.”

  He put his empty mug on the wall between them before carrying on. “The motels were put in mothballs, and Penny lived here all alone until she went into the rest home about five years ago.”