Home On the Station/Noah & Kate/Daniel & Lily/Luke & Erin

by Barbara Hannay

  But Kate Brodie was not the solution to that particular problem, Noah decided as he jutted his jaw and dabbed at the nick with the corner of a towel.

  Why on earth had Alan Davidson let fly yesterday with that crazy comment about a marriage of convenience? He must have known that Noah couldn’t contemplate any kind of marriage after the messy divorce he’d just been through. Hell. Maybe Alan had been running every option through his bloody legal brain—but did he have to voice the crazy ones?

  As for Kate’s suggestion that they form a business partnership, she’d been talking off the top of her head without really thinking it through. Very soon she’d come to her senses and realise that the last thing she wanted was to have her life tied up in a cattle station on the other side of the world.

  The sooner she went back to England, the better.

  He’d work out a way to solve his own problems, without getting tangled up with Angus’s niece. She’d been trouble enough last time she’d come to Radnor.

  Kate tossed and turned. She’d been awake for what felt like ages, her body clock disoriented and her mind churning over the events of yesterday. The questions buzzed in her head like maddened flies. Why had Angus Harrington made such an unexpected bequest? What did he want from her? What was he hoping?

  It was such an astonishing legacy. Bewildering.

  She found herself wondering if Alan Davidson had been right when he’d suggested that Angus had left her half of Radnor to protect his property from Noah’s divorced wife. And, if that was so, what had he hoped Kate would do about it now?

  Could he possibly expect her to live here, to run Radnor with Noah?

  Poor Angus. He wouldn’t have made such a mistake if he’d known their history. If only she’d had the courage to confide in her uncle. Over the years, she’d sent him letters, but she’d only ever told Angus about her fascination for Australia, for his cattle property and his lifestyle. Not a word about Noah.

  If Angus Harrington had known how silly she’d been, he might not have pushed them into this awkward partnership.

  Wincing as her mind came back to this dead end for the hundredth time, Kate leapt out of bed. She checked her mobile, but there were no messages.

  It would be early evening in England. She tried phoning her mother, but she was out, so she left a message that she’d arrived safely and all was well. Kate didn’t mention her surprise inheritance. She needed to speak to her mother in person about that. She dialled again and got through to Derek’s mobile.

  She kept her voice low so that she didn’t wake Noah. ‘Hi there, Derek, it’s Kate.’

  ‘Oh, really? Where are you?’

  ‘In Australia.’ What a strange question. Where else would she be? She wished Derek didn’t sound so put out. ‘I just wanted to let you know I made it here safely.’

  ‘Sorry. Can you speak up?’

  She could hear laughter and music in the background.

  ‘How long do you think you’ll be in Australia?’ Derek asked, raising his voice to reach her over the noise.

  Wishing she’d gone outside to make this call, Kate spoke as loudly as she dared. ‘I’m still not sure. Not very long, I guess, but there have been complications.’

  It would be good to tell Derek about her inheritance. His experience in the banking world could be helpful, and he’d be sure to offer great advice about business partnerships. But if Derek was at a party…

  ‘Can I hear people speaking in German?’ she asked.

  ‘What? Oh, can you hear that? Yes, there’s a table of Germans close by.’

  ‘Are you down at the pub?’

  This was met by a marked hesitation on the other end of the line, more than the normal time lapse on an international call. ‘No.’ Derek sounded uneasy. ‘I’m in—eh—Birmingham. It’s a business thing—I’m with clients.’

  It was a clear dismissal. Derek was busy and didn’t want to chat, and Kate tried hard not to mind. ‘I’d better not keep you, then.’

  They said goodbye and she disconnected, and knew she was silly to feel dissatisfied. If Derek was busy with clients she could hardly expect a romantic chat. Anyway, sweet talk had never been his style.

  Just the same…

  She sighed. Perhaps Derek was stressed. He often got stressed about his job, and it was probably tension rather than impatience that she’d heard in his voice. A yawn escaped her, and she realised she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. But there was no point in going back to bed. Noah would be up and about soon. What she needed was a shower to freshen her up.

  She was sorting through her things, trying to choose suitable clothes for a hot, sticky day in the Outback, when footsteps sounded on the veranda outside her room and then there was a knock at the French doors. Kate opened them a chink.

  ‘Morning, Kate.’

  Noah’s dark hair was damp, his rugged jaw clean and smooth as if he’d just shaved, and there was a nick just below his ear. Kate could smell the tang of his aftershave, and she had to clutch the door frame for support when he gave her a slow smile.

  ‘Is it too early for you for breakfast?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all.’ She was annoyed by how suddenly breathless she sounded. ‘I can be ready in a jiffy. I’ll come and help you.’

  He shrugged. ‘No need to rush. But you didn’t eat last night, so I’m thinking you’ll need the works—a full cooked breakfast.’

  She was smiling through her quick shower, and while she changed into linen shorts and a T-shirt and then hurried down the hallway.

  Divine smells were coming from the kitchen. More disturbingly divine was the sight of Noah at the stove. Oh, help. A woman was not supposed to finish a phone call with her boyfriend and immediately go weak at the knees at the sight of another man.

  How was it possible that Noah could look so super-attractive standing at a kitchen stove, turning sausages? Maybe she was still affected by jet lag. Or the heat. Or maybe it was something to do with the clothes these Outback guys wore—Noah’s low-slung jeans and rumpled cotton shirt.

  Heavens. What was wrong with her? How could she be so fickle? Hastily, she tried to substitute Derek into this scene—Derek wearing those battered jeans and nonchalantly flipping sausages and eggs at half-past six in the morning.

  Somehow, the picture wouldn’t gel. Derek was a night owl and he hated mornings. In fact, he hated cooking, and he rarely wore jeans. He was more the pinstriped-suit type.

  This is not going to be a repeat of the last time I was here.

  Kate’s insides flinched as she remembered the pain of getting over her infatuation with Noah. Her skin flushed from head to toe as she remembered her embarrassing behaviour. And then to think she’d still sent him a Valentine’s card shortly after her return.

  Oh, cringe. How could she have been so stupid? Noah had never replied, of course, and she hoped to high heaven he’d forgotten it. Keen to switch her thoughts to anything but that, she asked brightly, ‘Shall I make toast?’

  ‘Sure.’ Noah gestured with an elbow. ‘Toaster’s over in the corner. Bread’s in the box. Butter in the fridge.’

  His casualness brought her back to earth. Not only was she shallow and fickle, she was totally pathetic. She had no place in her life for romantic fantasies about Noah Carmody.

  First, she had Derek. Second, she really had learned her lesson last time. Crumbs. Maybe she needed to write it out a hundred times: I am not Noah’s type. I am not Noah’s type.

  While the bread was toasting, Kate found place mats and cutlery, set two places at one end of the big pine table, and added mugs for the pot of piping-hot tea.

  She didn’t think she could possibly eat the huge plateful Noah set in front of her, but she was actually ravenous, and the sausages were crisp on the outside and juicy and savoury in the middle. As for the bacon…

  Noah grinned when he saw her empty plate. ‘I like to see a girl with an appetite.’

  ‘That was delicious,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  She
was about to offer to wash up when he frowned and stood, head turned, as if he was listening to something outside. ‘There’s a car coming.’

  At first Kate couldn’t hear a thing, but then she caught the faint drone of a motor in the distance.

  Noah, carrying his mug of tea, went to the row of windows and looked out, eyes narrowed. ‘It isn’t a truck. It’s a smaller car.’

  ‘Shall I make a fresh pot of tea?’

  Kate was about to reach for the kettle when he held up his hand. ‘Hold on. I don’t think this is a social visit.’

  Although Noah stood quietly, shoulders relaxed, taking another sip from his mug, Kate sensed a new tension in him as he watched the visitor’s approach. She moved to the bank of windows, curious now, but she couldn’t possibly identify the vehicle making the cloud of white dust as it came towards them.

  Beside her, Noah exclaimed softly, ‘It’s the police.’

  With an economy of movement, he set the mug on the table and went out onto the veranda. Kate couldn’t help noticing that he made an art form of the loose-hipped, long-legged stride of the Outback cattleman.

  Stop it. She gathered up their breakfast things and took them to the sink, and watched through the window while she rinsed the dishes. A white station wagon with distinctive blue-and-white-chequered markings emerged out of the cloud of dust. Squinting against the bright morning sun, Kate could just make out a small figure on the front seat beside the driver.

  As soon as the car had crossed the home paddock and pulled up at the bottom of the steps, the passenger door opened and Olivia leapt out and flew up the steps, her pale brown hair streaming behind her like ribbons.

  ‘Daddy!’ the child sobbed as she flung herself at Noah.

  What on earth could have happened?

  Kate hurried to the veranda as her mind skidded through alarming possibilities. Noah looked as shocked as she felt. Crouching swiftly, he gripped his daughter by the shoulders, his gaze fierce as he searched her tear-stained face for clues.

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’

  The child simply shook her head and burst into tears. Surely there hadn’t been an accident?

  The policeman, a stout fellow in his fifties, got out of the driver’s seat stiffly, donned his cap and sauntered around the front of his car.

  ‘Morning, Noah,’ he drawled.

  ‘Stan, for goodness’ sake, what’s happened?’

  ‘Your little girl’s mother reported her missing from their motel suite. I found her out on the highway, but when I tried to take her back into town she put on such a turn I thought I’d better bring her out here to you.’

  ‘She was on the highway?’

  ‘Found her just past the turn off, west of Jindabilla.’

  ‘Liv, for heaven’s sake.’ Noah’s voice was choked.

  The policeman removed his hat and fiddled with the brim. ‘I’ve notified her mother, and she’s already on her way out here. I guess you and your ex will have to sort this out between you, Noah.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ The muscles in Noah’s throat jerked as he stood and shook hands with the policeman. ‘Thank you, Stan.’ His voice was subdued, shaken. ‘I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t found Liv.’

  He turned back to his daughter. ‘Why did you run away, Liv?’

  Olivia’s head hung low.

  ‘Tell me,’ Noah insisted.

  ‘Are you angry?’ she asked in a very small voice.

  He dragged a deep breath; let it out on a sigh. ‘No. I’m not angry. Just worried.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back to Sydney.’

  Kate saw the pain in Noah’s face, saw his body stiffen and his jaw clench, as if he were biting off his response. In the silence, the girl looked up at her father with fearful eyes, her little mouth trembling.

  Noah’s silence seemed to stretch for ever, but then a soft cry broke from him and he clasped Olivia to him.

  She sobbed against his shoulder, wrapped her thin arms around his neck and clung. ‘Don’t make me go, Daddy. Please let me s-stay here with you.’

  Noah closed his eyes, and Kate was shocked by the agony she read in his rugged face. His big hand trembled as he cradled the back of his daughter’s head and held her against him.

  Watching them, Kate felt her eyes sting and her throat hurt, as if she’d swallowed concrete. She could hardly remember her own father, but the memories she had were precious. She’d loved the way he used to swing her high in the air, and the way he’d called her his princess.

  Oh, how she’d adored him.

  Now, as she watched Noah and his daughter, she could feel the depth of their special bond and the rawness of their strained emotions. Their pain was real. This was not simply a matter of a spoiled little girl manipulating her parent.

  In the distance another cloud of white dust appeared, accompanied by the growl of another motor. No doubt this was Liane.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ mumbled Kate, deciding she would be wise to make herself scarce.

  No one seemed to notice her departure to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and set it on the stove, then filled the sink with hot water, found detergent and began to wash up. Outside, the growl of the approaching car grew louder. Then there was a screech as it came to a halt, and a door slammed.

  Liane marched to the foot of the front steps and stopped, hands on hips, painted lips pursed as she surveyed the scene on the veranda. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and she was wearing a fuchsia-pink dress, dark glasses and high-heeled white sandals. She looked as if she’d stepped straight out of fashion magazine.

  ‘I hope you’re happy now, Noah!’

  Kate supposed she’d lived a rather sheltered life. Her father had died when she was five, so she’d never experienced domestic disputes. But her grandparents had been divorced before she was born. Her grandfather had left England with their son, Uncle Angus, while her grandmother had remained at home with Kate’s mother.

  The bitterness of the split had endured throughout her grandmother’s life, and the subject of her grandfather had always been dismissed with a pursed mouth and a sniff. She had always wondered how such bitterness was born, and now she was seeing something very similar unfolding before her eyes. With poor little Olivia caught in the crossfire.

  * * *

  Kate was in the walk-in pantry, hunting for biscuits to serve if morning tea was required, when she heard Noah’s footsteps crossing the kitchen.

  She turned. Noah looked tired already. He smiled sadly and she felt her heart slip.

  ‘Can I ask a favour, Kate?’

  She nodded. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘I was hoping you could entertain Olivia again.’ He released a small sigh. ‘Liane and I need to talk. I have to try to sort this out.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ As she said this, Kate wondered what on earth she could do to keep Noah’s daughter distracted without toys or children’s books. The drought-stricken paddocks were empty, so there were no small animals like Baby Prince Charming to amuse Olivia today—nothing out there except an elderly dog and four frangipani trees.

  Frangipanis.

  Perhaps they would do.

  She took a wicker basket from a hook on the kitchen wall and went out onto the veranda. Liane had already disappeared somewhere inside the house, and Olivia was sitting alone on the top step, shoulders hunched, hugging her knees and staring off into the sun-drenched distance.

  Kate sat beside her. ‘Hello again.’

  The little girl gave her a watery quarter-smile. ‘Hello.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about picking up those fallen frangipani flowers. Would you like to help me?’

  The child looked dubious. ‘Why? Do you think they look untidy?’

  ‘No,’ Kate said with a laugh. ‘Nothing like that. Did you know you can turn frangipani flowers upside down, so they look like beautiful ladies in ball gowns?’ She stood and held out her hand. ‘Come and see.’

  Olivia
got to her feet very slowly, but she made no attempt to take Kate’s hand, or to follow her down the short flight of steps. Entertaining her wasn’t going to be as easy as yesterday—Olivia was much more upset. Poor kid. She must be so confused and scared.

  The sweet-smelling flowers lay scattered on the dark earth beneath the trees. Kate picked up a pristine white one, turned it over and set it upside down on her palm.

  ‘See?’ she said, holding it out for Olivia. ‘The petals can be a princess’s ball-gown, and then the stem is her neck.’

  Looking doubtful, Olivia descended slowly. She came closer and peered at the upturned flower. ‘I can see the ball gown, but where’s her head?’

  ‘Um—princesses have very small, neat heads.’ Kate tapped her finger against the small, sticky nub where the frangipani had once been joined to the tree.

  To her relief, Olivia accepted this explanation. She smiled and looked around at the array of flowers spread at her feet. ‘They’re pretty, aren’t they?’

  ‘I think so. If you like, we can find all the perfect ones without any brown spots.’

  The little girl nodded, but when she looked up at Kate again her grey eyes narrowed. ‘Are you my daddy’s new girlfriend?’

  ‘Good heavens, no!’ Deeply embarrassed, Kate felt a spurt of self-righteous anger. What had she done to deserve this? ‘What makes you think I’m his girlfriend?’

  ‘You’re kind and pretty.’

  ‘Well, thanks.’ I think. ‘But that doesn’t make me your father’s girlfriend. As a matter of fact,’ she added as a hasty afterthought, ‘I already have a boyfriend back in England.’

  ‘So why are you here?’

  ‘Angus was my uncle, and I came all the way from England because I wanted to go to his funeral.’

  ‘Oh.’ Olivia stood for a minute, digesting this, then she crouched to touch a velvet-soft petal with her fingertips. She picked up the flower, held it to her nose, sniffed it, and turned it over the way Kate had.

  Feeling calmer now that the matter of boyfriends was settled, Kate said, ‘I know flowers aren’t as exciting as a baby pig.’

  ‘They’re lovely.’ Olivia’s smile deepened, and sweet dimples formed in her cheeks. ‘Can I play with them?’