Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben
Ben heard Holly’s vehicle, then saw it ease around the edge of the paddock and through a gate to drive along the green bottom flat towards the campsite. His heart rate picked up and he grimaced at himself. All through the morning he’d been thinking, Holly would have laughed at that, or Holly should see this as the boys had figured out the intricacies of erecting a tent and the correct way to stack a fire.
They’d stopped at the main house this morning and he’d introduced the boys to his grandmother, who’d joined them all in the kitchen for raisin toast and cocoa. As he’d suspected, his grandmother had been pleased to meet them.
On the way down to the creek an hour later, he’d suggested the boys hitch pieces of white electric fence tape around each gate post for Holly. Not quite tie a yellow ribbon, but he hadn’t wanted her to get lost driving over the hundreds of acres of river flats, looking for their campsite. And he knew she’d smile when she saw it. He’d pre-cut the lengths and the ends of the knots fluttered in the warm breeze gaily.
‘Holly’s here.’ Pat’s shout left no one in doubt they couldn’t wait to show her their labours. Ben looked at the boys and thought about the little things they’d said, hints of the unstinting kindness and love that Holly showed them as she tried to be the best parent she could to them and he loved her more for it.
He hoped she’d let him love her as much as she deserved, because he wanted to share his life with her—whether she wanted to run a coffee shop or be a GP—have more children, he hoped, or none, because it was Holly Peterson he wanted as his wife.
The boys rushed to the spot next to Ben’s pickup under one of the river oaks to wait. She drove slowly across the last undulating paddock and down into the hollow of the creek bank. He was pretty sure he was the only person who heard the engine stop with the boys closing in on Holly’s side of the car. She was laughing and hugging them, and he saw her glance over their heads and incline her head and smile at him in thanks. His chest tightened.
The boys dragged her to their tent, made her crawl through the flap to see their sleeping bags and he had a delightful view of her jean-clad hips as she disappeared inside. He could imagine how crowded that two-man tent must be with the three of them in there.
Then they all squeezed out again and she was being ushered towards the creek to see where they’d fished, then back to the van, and the fireplace with all the folding chairs around it—and even to the little outhouse where they’d set up the garage sale tent and portable toilet for Holly. The boys had pinned a piece of paper to the door that read ‘Ladies.’
‘You know that was worth at least half an hour of giggles,’ Ben commented and glanced at the boys who looked like they were ready to roll on the ground again with fresh mirth.
He watched her throw her head back and laugh at that. Something he’d never seen before and he saw now how the boys had helped her heal from the loss of her sister too.
Then she was beside him. ‘The twins love their toilet humour.’ Holly put her hand on his arm and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘You’ve done amazingly well.’
Her scent washed over him. Lemon soap and violets. Then realised she’d done it in front of her nephews. He wondered what the boys thought of that.
Nothing apparently and he hoped this was the start of a breakthrough for he and Holly to show signs of affection around them. ‘The boys did it all. I just watched.’
Tom shook his head. ‘You helped a lot.’
Even Pat nodded at that. ‘He parked the caravan.’
Holly laughed again. ‘I’m glad. You’re too young to drive. Plus, you wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals in Ben’s car, Pat.’
‘I’m sure he’d figure something out,’ Ben said dryly, having had a glimpse into both boys’ potential for learning new skills.
‘Well, show me how you set up plates. Because I’m starving and I have a big beautiful cake to put candles on.’ She leaned back into the car and produced a twin tents-shaped cake, one with Pat’s name and one with Tom’s name in icing on the side of the cake. The boys whooped and ran for the van.
She looked at Ben. ‘Have they been this hyped all morning?’
‘They’re just excited to see you.’ He looked at her. He knew exactly how they felt. He was excited to see her too.
Chapter Thirty
Holly
Holly looked around the tidy campsite. The boys’ tent between her caravan and Ben’s swag on the outside of them to protect them from any lurking monsters in the night. Though maybe a cow or horse could poke its head in. He really had saved the day. ‘The campsite looks amazing. Birthday is saved. The boys look so happy.’
‘Are you happy?’ His eyes caressed her and she wanted to cover her cheeks with her hands.
Yes, she was. She could feel it swelling in her chest, stretching her mouth, and settling over her like a rosy glow. Had Ben made her feel like this or was it just relief that the boys were safe?
‘Well?’ They both knew the boys would be back any minute.
‘Yes. I am.’ Big breath. ‘Even more so, because you’re here, too.’ And then the boys exploded back.
‘We have plates,’ Pat called.
‘I have a knife,’ Tom offered, though he was walking more carefully than Pat’s full-out run.
‘I have matches in my car,’ Ben said quietly with a smile. ‘But then again the boys may want me to rub two sticks together.’
‘I’d like to see that,’ she teased. ‘But I’m not sure they have the patience.’
‘Luckily I have,’ he said even more quietly, and they exchanged what Holly could only call a secretive smile that made that glow in her face heat some more.
They blew out candles, lit from matches—not smouldering sticks—and ate cake that tasted all the better for being eaten out in the open beside a waterhole. Because the afternoon stayed warm, they swam and splashed in the creek.
The boys could swim. Not well, but competently, and Ben gently corrected some of their lazy arms in the stroke and Holly floated on an old blown-up tyre tube that Ben had brought down from the farm.
‘Goodness, I feel like a young gal from a 1950s poster of women in polka dot bathers.’
‘Well, you look very fetching.’
‘And who are you? The Marlboro Man?’ He looked like the iconic advertisement with the rough, tough, cigarette-dangling cowboy—without the cigarette.
‘That would be politically incorrect for a doctor of medicine and you know it.’ He smiled lazily at her as she floated past him.
‘I know.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I hate having those “you shouldn’t smoke” conversations with my patients.’
‘Ha. Old-fashioned woman. I’ve moved to “I see you are addicted to nicotine. I can give you something to help the symptoms as you get better.”’
She couldn’t stop the giggle. She was feeling a little drunk with happiness this afternoon. But she was intrigued. She’d never heard that approach before. ‘And does that work?’
He pretended to frown at her. ‘If I say it with sincerity.’
She tilted her head at him. Considering. ‘You do sincerity very well.’
He rolled his eyes in an ‘of course’ expression. ‘That’s because I’m a sincere kinda guy.’
She paddled her hands backwards in the water until she caught up with him again. Touched with a little wonder the bare, muscled bicep and followed a rivulet of water down the surface of his arm until it hit the water.
‘You are a pretty wonderful kind of guy.’
When he looked at her she blushed; nothing else to do under that hot gaze that promised he’d show her exactly what kind of man he was when he had her alone. But not tonight. She tried not to be disappointed.
*
The campfire that evening proved a big hit. The sausage sandwiches had been washed down with billy tea and more cake, and Holly reminded herself she needed to look up wholesome food for campfires on Google when she went
home or they’d all be sporting pot bellies. But it was good. Better than good. It was probably one of best, most wonderful days of her life.
And she couldn’t dispute the fact Ben made it that way. Especially when the evening turned to night and the crickets began to chirp and the firelight danced and crackled with popping wood.
As the stars began to appear in the inky sky, Ben showed the boys how to cover the lens of a flashlight with tape until only a small beam could escape—then he flashed it upwards to point at the spangled sky with a long beam that didn’t ruin their night vision.
They moved away from the fire and onto the other side of the cars, so the firelight didn’t affect their eyes and butted two picnic mats side by side. Then they brought out four pillows from the tent and van, so they could all lie down and stare up at the sky in comfort, the two boys in the middle of the adults.
For a few minutes they all just stared up at the inky heavens in silence. Even the boys were struck dumb by the sheer magnitude of tiny lights, patterns and winking diamonds that littered the roof of the world above them.
Everyone seemed happy to just lie there and search out the brightest stars and the Milky Way. Holly didn’t think she’d ever been so content. She marvelled at the patience of this man and his kindness to her nephews. She had a sudden urge to tell him how lucky she felt, but of course she couldn’t. It would keep.
Ben’s deep voice rumbled out of the darkness. ‘You can see the Milky Way, in the curved sweep of crowded stars. What else do you know of the stars?’
‘The Southern Cross,’ Tom said, his voice piping up from beside her. ‘But I don’t know how to find it.’
‘It’s the one on the Australian flag,’ Pat said, next to Ben.
‘And the New Zealand flag,’ Tom added.
‘That’s impressive,’ Ben said, and Holly savoured the flutter of pride in her nephews but she didn’t add anything, content to savour the rapt attention the boys gave Ben.
‘You look for the pointer stars,’ he went on. ‘So, find me two bright stars in a line.’
‘Got them,’ said Tom.
Pat was looking the other way and his head snapped beside Ben as he tried to catch up to his brother. ‘Yep. I see them.’
‘Okay.’ Ben nodded where they pointed at the two, bright, parallel stars the boys had identified and used the beam to confirm the pointers as well. Then switched it off. ‘Follow the two bright ones to where they’re pointing and find the four stars of the cross. If you look carefully and it’s dark enough, you can see the dimmer fifth star.’
The boys pointed at the stars. ‘I see them.’ A chorus.
‘Do they have names?’ From Tom.
Ben laughed. ‘Yes. The common names are…’ he switched the torch back on and the beam of light was a pointer to each star, ‘…Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, and Epsilon Crucis, but just this year a new common name has been added for the smallest, fifth star. They call it Ginan.’
‘Why Ginan?’ Holly was smiling, incredibly happy lying on a mat staring at the stars with a man and two boys. Seemed she wasn’t the only person who knew surprising facts.
When she glanced over the boys’ heads to Ben he’d clicked the torch off and had his hands behind his head staring upwards.
He turned his head on the pillow and looked across at her with amusement. ‘Are you trying to catch me out? It’s an Aboriginal name from the Wardaman people of Northern Territory, meaning ‘red dilly bag filled with special songs and knowledge.’ The International Astronomical Union approved the common name change early this year.’
Holly couldn’t help herself. She laughed. ‘More interesting than where lamingtons come from. I can see I’ll have to search out new facts for our ongoing battle.’
‘What other stars are there?’ Tom’s voice oozed excitement and she wondered if this would be a new obsession for him.
‘Centaurus has the most number of visible stars in the southern hemisphere constellations with two of the brightest stars. Alpha Centauri and Beta Centauri. It’s called Centauri because it looks like the mythological half-man half-horse creature.’
And so it went on, until the moon rose, dimming the stars. It was a full moon and enough to make them stare at the lunar grandeur rising above the trees and lighting up the paddocks. Holly’s face ached from smiling.
They carried their pillows and the mat back to the dying fire and the boys fell silent, too happily sated with food and new adventures to move, and Ben helped her cajole them into semi-wakefulness and into their sleeping bags and she said one last good night and happy birthday as she zipped up their tent.
Ben was waiting for her by the fire, brow furrowed as he stared into the flames. His concentration gave her a chance to admire the angles and strength in his profile as he poked the coals with a long stick. His straight nose and square jaw were highlighted by the glow of the flames and he looked ruggedly tough, at ease in his surroundings, and more than capable of taking on anything that came out of the darkness. Something primal inside her responded to the manliness of him.
When she sat next to him she angled herself close. Her hip brushing his denim-clad hip, shared heat instantly raising her body temperature, a solid arm coming around her to pull her closer. No doubt about it, she snuggled.
She leaned her head on his shoulder and breathed in the wood smoke and male scent of him. Her belly kicked with a sensual response she savoured as much as she’d savoured their star time. She wanted him a little too much for a shared campsite and needed to think of something to divert her thoughts.
‘Thank you. Except for the way we all smell like wood smoke, I think the boys had a great birthday.’
‘I had a great day,’ he said easily and the awkwardness she’d started to build between them fell away. He pretended to noisily inhale her scent. ‘It’s okay. You smell like toasted violets, as well you know.’
He was right. They both needed a bath, and there was a cool spot just a stone’s throw away from the boys’ tent. In the dark. Out of sight. Below the water level who knew what could go on.
‘Fancy a skinny dip to finish the day?’ He breathed the words into her ear and she gave a stifled gasp because he’d read her thoughts. ‘I have soap,’ he whispered and her belly kicked at the suggestion and she wanted to laugh out loud, but didn’t want to wake the boys.
Holly felt herself sway away from common sense and right into temptation. She was thirty-one and nervous about getting caught swimming in the dark. The creek didn’t have nasty creatures, and Ben would be there. Oh my. Ben would be there, naked as well, as if that hadn’t been her first thought. ‘What if the boys wake up?’
‘Swimming is legal. But unlikely they will. It’s been a big day.’
Come on, Holly, she chided herself. She’d always been the straight one. Jasmine would have already stripped off. You know you’ve always wanted to do this and never been brave enough. She drew in a deep breath and stood up. ‘I’m game if you are.’
Ben wasted no time carrying a camp chair with their clean clothes and two towels down to the water’s edge. If worse came to worst they could say they were bathing and could quickly dress.
Ben didn’t hesitate as he stripped off his clothes and walked confidently to the edge of the water. He didn’t look at her as she fumbled with her clothes, just waited with his hand out until she took his fingers and squeezed. White teeth flashed in the moonlight.
‘You still having fun?’ His voice was deep and quiet and something in it settled her silly nerves.
Yes, she was. Her heart was pounding with a giggly type of excitement and she squeezed his hand back. They stepped in up to their knees and she hesitated. ‘The water seems cooler than it was today,’ she whispered. But it felt like silk against her bare skin as they sank below the surface. To her surprise her breasts seemed to rise to the surface.
Ben obviously found it a fascinating fact because those white teeth flashed again. ‘Oh, look. Floatation devices.’
She splashed
him. What else could she do, because she blushed and grinned and stifled a groan as his arms closed around her and she was floated into his arms and pulled into his chest. The variation between cool water and hot skin made her pull him closer and an incredible day that couldn’t get better—did.
Chapter Thirty-One
Holly
Sunday progressed to another glorious day. Holly woke to the sound of crunching. A few nosy cows had come to see what the campers were doing and Ben was out there waving them away.
The air was cool, and fresh, blowing any smoke from their campfire away across the paddock. Outside her camper the grass shone dewy with moisture, and Ben had the boys with a bucket each, about to leave.
‘We’re picking mushrooms for your breakfast,’ Pat said importantly.
Tom nodded. ‘How was your bed, Holly?’
‘My bed was a cloud and I slept all night. What about you?’
The gleeful smile on the seven-year-old face told the story. ‘We loved it.’
‘I’m pleased.’ Thrilled actually. She looked across to the fire. ‘And your swag was comfortable, Ben?’ She could barely look at him without blushing. The sound of water and glow of moonlight would never be the same.
‘Perfect.’ His eyes were warm and appreciative with a dash of sinful amusement. But all he said was, ‘I’ve restarted the fire. The billy is boiling for your coffee.’
Which was another tick to a man who had a long list of appreciative affirmations.
When the men returned, Holly had enjoyed a peaceful—so rare—cup of plunger coffee, a particularly civilised addition she was so glad she’d thought of, and had washed up the dishes from the night before in the remains of the hot water.
Ben went straight to his preparation for bacon and eggs cooked over the fire, along with the mushrooms gathered from the paddock, white topped and velvet brown underneath, and when they were cooked, Holly had never tasted paddock-fresh mushrooms like these.
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