The advertisement for the new nanny had been sent to several newspapers and Internet sites, so that ball was rolling. Until the nanny arrived, Janet could be taught how to set up the School of the Air each morning and the teacher would take it from there. Meanwhile, for Holly, leaving early had become an increasing necessity, a sanity saver.
‘When do you have to leave here?’
‘I thought I’d get a lift on the next mail plane.’
Shock flared in Gray’s eyes. ‘But that’s only three days away.’
‘Yes.’
He launched to his feet, ploughed a frantic hand through his hair. ‘What about the children? They’ll get such a shock.’
‘Not really. They’ve known all along that I was eventually leaving and I’ve already been preparing them for their new nanny.’
He came to an abrupt halt with his hands sunk in his pockets, his cheeks leached of colour. ‘They’ll still be shocked. When will you tell them?’
‘I was hoping we could both tell them together, tomorrow morning.’
This was met by stormy silence.
‘You’ll do that, won’t you, Gray? You’ll back me up?’
It was ages before he answered. But, to her relief, he finally nodded, said very quietly, ‘Yes, of course.’
The only good thing about the next three days was that they were incredibly busy. Suddenly there was so much for Holly to organise—flights home, a hotel booking in Sydney, detailed notes for the new nanny and farewell emails to all the Outback mothers, teachers and governesses she’d met via School of the Air.
She spent as much time as she could with Anna and Josh, and of course there were weepy moments and lots of questions and reassuring hugs.
‘You’ll come back to us, won’t you?’
Holly couldn’t answer this. ‘I’ll see you when your daddy brings you to America to your grandma and grandpa,’ she said instead.
She set them up with email accounts, so they could write to her when she was back in the US.
There were no more reading lessons with Gray. The evenings were taken up with farewell activities. Janet insisted on a party and she invited everyone on the property, including the ringers. Holly really liked these easy-going, laconic men and partying with them reminded her of how much she was going to miss their dry jokes and colourful stories about mustering and droving.
On the last night Gray made a campfire down on the riverbank and he roasted freshwater crayfish that he’d caught in the river that afternoon. They ate out under the stars and the food was delicious, the evening magical. The children danced their own version of an Aboriginal corroboree around the fire and Gray told another Hector Owl story. Holly had no idea how she held back the tears.
The actual farewell the next morning was the worst moment, of course. No one—not even Gray—could pretend to be cheerful, and down at the airstrip, the children clung to Holly, tears flowing.
‘I love you, Holly,’ Josh whispered.
‘I love you, too, darling.’
Anna cried. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘I know, but you have Daddy now, honey. And you remember what we said? You’re going to be brave, aren’t you?’
Holly was sure she could actually feel her heart breaking. These gorgeous children had lost their mother and now they were losing her. She wasn’t going to be like her own mom who’d married a lonely widower to become his cherished wife and his children’s dearly loved stepmom.
She was flying out of their lives.
Janet was too grim-lipped to speak. She gave Holly a fierce, silent hug.
But it was the bleak look in Gray’s eyes that almost burst Holly’s floodgates.
‘All the best with the new job,’ he said gruffly, hugging her close so that she felt his heart thundering before he stepped quickly away. ‘I hope that school knows how lucky they are to have you.’
By a minor miracle Holly managed not to cry, but the worst was yet to come—climbing into the tiny plane and taking off, watching the homestead and the outhouses and the tiny figures beside the airstrip growing smaller and smaller until they were no more than dots…
The pilot sent her a sympathetic smile. ‘You’ll be back,’ he said.
Holly shook her head. She would write emails and letters and make phone calls to Anna and Josh, and she would see them whenever they came to the States, but she wouldn’t come back to Jabiru Creek.
She couldn’t bear to be received as a visitor, an outsider, in the place where she’d left a huge chunk of her heart.
They were asleep at last.
Gray held his breath as he closed the story book and backed out of the children’s room.
Contrary to Holly’s predictions, Anna and Josh had reacted rather badly to her departure and he expected them to wake again at any moment. For now, thank heavens, they were sleeping like baby angels.
He tiptoed down the hall to his study, steeling himself for the empty space on the sofa. Even so, Holly’s absence hit him like an icepick in the chest.
He’d done the right thing by letting her go, but he couldn’t believe that doing the right thing could feel so bottom-of-the-pit bad.
How amazing that one girl had made such a difference in the lives of all of them here. Everyone at Jabiru loved Holly. They’d all been cheered by her sunshiny personality. They’d respected her knowledge and skills, and they’d appreciated her genuine interest and desire to help. With her latest book-swapping scheme, she’d even begun spreading the goodwill further to women in outlying properties.
Gray didn’t dare—or, rather, couldn’t bear to list his private reasons for missing Holly. He might have felt better about waving her off if he’d been confident that she was happy to go. But that was the killer, the worry eating away at him now like a worm in an apple—Holly had been a different girl these past few days.
She’d put on a brave face, smiling her way through all the farewell activities but, although she’d laughed and said how wonderful it all was to have so many great memories to take home, Gray had been watching her closely and he’d seen her frightening fragility. He’d seen the tremble in her smile and the new cautiousness, as if she was scared she might crack like an eggshell unless she was very, very careful.
He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing in sending her away, but now he felt sick and uncertain. And bloody lonely.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ Janet remarked the next morning when Gray came into the kitchen, yawning.
‘Anna had a nightmare last night,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his unshaven jaw. ‘I took her in to sleep with me, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep.’
Janet paused in the process of stirring scrambled eggs. ‘That’s the first nightmare Anna’s had for ages, isn’t it?’
He nodded as he poured himself a mug of tea.
‘Gray, you know what’s caused it, don’t you?’
‘I guess she might be missing Holly.’
His housekeeper shot him a look that made it clear she considered him one sandwich short of a picnic. ‘Of course the poor little lamb is missing Holly.’ Turning the gas beneath the saucepan down, Janet came over to him and lowered her voice. ‘Where are the children now?’
‘They’re still getting dressed. They slept in. Why?’
‘I’ve got something to say to you. Unfortunately, I had to wait till Holly was gone before I thought you’d be ready to listen.’
His housekeeper studied him, and then she nodded smugly. ‘You’re in a bad way, aren’t you? Can’t sleep, face like a dropped meat pie.’
He began to make excuses. ‘But Holly was—’
‘You’ve realised you made a big mistake, letting Holly go.’
Gray almost denied this, but what was the point? ‘I had to.’
‘Forgive me for saying this, Gray, but that’s rubbish. That wonderful girl loved living here, and she was perfect for Jabiru in every way. If you think she’s cut from the same cloth as your former wife, then you’re t
hicker than two short planks.’ Janet leaned closer. ‘And the really terrible thing is Holly loves you, Gray. You must know she’s mad about you. She loves all of us, bless her tender heart. She loves this place. But even a blind man could see how she feels about you.’
The kitchen swam before Gray. His throat stung. ‘But her job—’
‘Do you really think Holly would care two hoots for that job if she thought she could be here with you?’
He had to set his mug of tea down before it slipped from his shaking fingers.
‘Have I been a coward, Janet?’
‘Lord love you, no. You’re just a man, after all.’ Picking up a corner of her apron, Janet dabbed at her eyes. ‘And I understand you’re scared you’ll be hurt again.’
‘I’m not, actually. Not with Holly. It’s her happiness I’m worried about.’
‘Then you should stop worrying right now and do something about it. If you let Holly get all the way back to America, I might never forgive you.’
‘But she’s already on her way home.’
Janet shook her head. ‘She has a two-night stopover in Sydney. Thought she might as well see a little more of Australia before she leaves.’
‘Two nights.’ Gray’s heart swooped high, then took a dive. ‘But she only has one night left. How the hell can I get to Sydney by tonight?’
Janet smiled and patted his cheek. ‘Where there’s a will there’s nearly always a way.’
Sydney was a beautiful city. Holly woke to a sunny and dazzling winter’s day—and where better to spend it than out on the Harbour?
She walked to Circular Quay and took a ferry ride, cruising beneath the famous coat-hanger bridge and past the dramatic sails of the Opera House, stopping at a five star seafood restaurant right on the sparkling waterfront.
She tried to enjoy herself. Honestly. But it wasn’t easy to have fun when her senses were completely numb.
This stopover in Sydney was so different from last time, when she’d first arrived here with Gray and the children, all excited about their new adventure. It felt like a lifetime ago. Was it really only a month?
In the evening, she forced herself to go out again. She’d bought a pair of snappy high heels to wear with the red dress. Why waste it?
After a toss-up between a musical, a play or a movie, she opted for the play because one of her favourite actresses was in the leading role. It was rather embarrassing, though. She cried rather noisy buckets in the third act—which was all very tragic—and people around her stared.
She managed a little make-up repair in the Ladies room and then treated herself to coffee and dessert at a trendy little wine bar. Normally, a chocolate soufflé would lift her spirits, no matter how low they’d been.
Not tonight.
Gray paced the hallway outside Holly’s hotel room, his stomach bunching with nerves. It was past eleven and she still wasn’t back. How much longer could he wait before he was accused by a hotel employee of stalking?
Everything had been going his way until now. It was quite amazing the way fate had smiled on him this morning when he’d rung an old mate, a charter pilot, on the off chance. Luckily, Jack had been willing to juggle schedules just to get Gray to Sydney on time, and Janet had been able to tell him where Holly was staying.
The only spanner in the works was Holly, who was clearly spending a night on the town.
Gray patted his jacket pocket and felt for the small rectangular envelope, and the knots in his stomach pulled tighter than fencing wire. A hard lump filled his throat. Could he do this?
He’d left messages on Holly’s phone, but if she got back very late there was every chance that she wouldn’t bother to check them.
Could he follow through with his alternative? Could he risk the pain that had haunted him all his life and leave this note under her door?
Memories crowded in—awful, sickening memories of the one other time he’d tried such a desperate measure—his plea to his mother to stop her from leaving Jabiru.
The stress of repeating history brought him out in a cold sweat. This time he had everything to lose.
And everything to gain.
His hand was shaking as he took the envelope from his pocket. It was such a small piece of paper, so few words. Such a simple task to slide the note through the narrow crack below the door. Such a small window of opportunity in which to convince Holly.
As he knelt in the empty hallway, his mind flashed an image of a heartbroken boy, trembling with hope as he slipped a note beneath his mother’s door.
Was he mad to try this again?
After her coffee and dessert, Holly wandered back to her hotel but she felt lonelier than ever. The streets were full of couples—couples holding hands and laughing, couples with their arms around each other, couples kissing in shadowy doorways.
It was a relief to reach her hotel. The girl at the front desk sent her a smile when she came in, but Holly thought she saw sympathy in the girl’s eyes, as if she was sorry for her—all dressed up and on her own. She hurried into the elevator and whizzed up to the nineteenth floor.
As the elevator doors opened and she stepped out into the carpeted hallway, she saw her reflection in a gilt-edged mirror hanging above an elaborate flower arrangement.
Her red dress looked as gorgeous as ever. In fact it looked even better now—she’d lost weight in the last week and she’d acquired cheekbones and a tragic air. Like a heroine in a sad love story.
Ha, ha. Not funny.
She continued down the hall to her room, slotted the key in the lock, heard its click and the door swung silently open. So much for her last night in Australia.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THERE was a white envelope lying on the carpet just inside the door. Holly saw it, but she knew it would be her bill and she was too weary and despondent to worry about it now. Stepping over it, she told herself she would deal with it first thing in the morning when she checked out.
She went through to the luxurious bathroom with its gorgeous plunge bath and gold taps and rows of pretty little bottles. A warm bath with fragrant oils might help her to sleep.
Sitting on the edge of the bath, she started the water running and unscrewed the lid on one of the bottles. She poured the liquid, inhaling the scents of jasmine and rose but, as she watched it swirl then foam and turn into bubbles, something tugged at a corner of her mind.
Something about that white envelope—
Perhaps she should take another look at it.
Leaving the bath running, she went back to the little entrance hallway. Her name was on the front of the envelope and it was handwritten, or rather printed in an unskilled hand. Picking it up, she felt a nervous flurry in her chest. Then shivers ran down her arms.
Her heart began to race.
Stop it. Calm down.
It wasn’t a hotel bill. It was the last thing Holly had expected—something she’d never thought she’d see in this lifetime—a note handwritten in familiar shaky printing. Her legs were so weak she had to lean against the wall as she read it.
The message was perfectly simple.
Please stay. I love you. G xxxxxxxxx.
A sob broke from her and her hand flew to her mouth. Her vision blurred and her heart pounded like a marching band.
She could scarcely see the note for her tears. Her mind was a whirlpool of disconnected thoughts. How had the note got here? Where was Gray?
But, before she could begin to think about answers to these questions, she heard an ominous trickling sound. Oh, God. The bathwater was overflowing.
As she dashed into the bathroom to turn off the taps, the phone beside her bed began to ring.
‘I’m sorry, sir. There’s still no answer from Room 1910.’
Gray muttered his curt thanks and prowled back to his post on the far side of the hotel lobby. It was close to midnight now and he wasn’t sure how much longer he should pace the hotel’s marble floors.
Once or twice he had ducked outside to stroll a
long Castlereagh Street for a breath of fresh air, but he’d always checked back with the concierge desk on his return. He was sure he hadn’t missed Holly, and this last call to her room had still brought no answer.
Where was she? He was fast losing hope.
Tired of pacing, he sank into the leather armchair and thought about ordering another coffee. But he’d consumed so much caffeine tonight, his eyes would soon be out on stalks.
‘Sir?’
A voice at Gray’s elbow brought him leaping to his feet.
The uniformed concierge, a man of around fifty with a florid face, smiled. ‘Mr Kidman?’
Gray’s heart thudded. ‘Yes.’
‘Miss O’Mara has returned. She telephoned the desk and left a message for you.’ He handed Gray a folded piece of paper.
Gray opened it, and died a thousand deaths.
It was a handwritten note, not printed, but written in a spiky script with curls and flourishes disfiguring the familiar shape of the letters. He hadn’t a hope of deciphering it.
Already the concierge was returning to his desk. Gray hurried after him.
‘Excuse me.’
The man turned, eyebrows raised. ‘Can I help, sir?’
Gray’s face burned crimson. His throat closed over and he wanted to turn and run for the hills. In the past he would have found any excuse to avoid this embarrassment. He would have given up and walked away rather than expose his shame.
Now, his hand shook as he held out the note. ‘Would you—’ he began, but his voice was hoarse and choked. He tried again. ‘Would you mind telling me what this note says?’
The concierge covered his surprise quite creditably once he got over his initial jaw-drop.
‘Of course, sir,’ he said super-politely. ‘Perhaps I should apologise for my handwriting.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The note says: Sorry I missed your calls. I’m in my room now. Please come up.’
Rancher's Twins: Mom Needed Page 15
