Under Christmas Stars

by Alissa Callen

  When USA Today bestselling author ALISSA CALLEN isn’t writing, she plays traffic controller to four children, three dogs, two horses and one renegade cow who believes the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. After a childhood spent chasing sheep on the family farm, Alissa has always been drawn to remote areas and small towns, even when residing overseas. She is partial to autumn colour, snowy peaks and historic homesteads and will drive hours to see an open garden. Once a teacher and a counsellor, she remains interested in the life journeys that people take. She draws inspiration from the countryside around her, whether it be the brown snake at her back door or the resilience of bush communities in times of drought or flood. Her books are characteristically heartwarming, authentic and character driven. Alissa lives on a small slice of rural Australia in central western NSW.

  Under Christmas Stars

  Alissa Callen

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  To Luke

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  ‘Are you sure you’re not moving into Santa’s workshop?’ Amusement curved Ella’s mouth as she passed Freya a plastic crate heavy with Christmas paper, gift bags and tags.

  Freya smiled at the blonde vet whose friendship had helped ease the ache of loneliness when she’d left the city to teach at Reedy Creek’s one-teacher bush school. ‘As my mother always said, you can never have too much Christmas.’

  ‘Let’s hope there’s not too much Christmas for my car boot.’ Ella caught a roll of festive ribbon that slid out of the crate Freya was wedging into the back of Ella’s four-wheel drive.

  Freya slammed the door in place to secure the full load of luggage and Christmas items. ‘Too easy.’ Laughter threaded her words as she gave Ella a high five.

  After the heartache of the past year, it felt good to laugh again. She turned towards the small house across from the schoolyard that had become her new home.

  ‘There’s two more Christmas boxes to put in my car and I need to throw some clothes into a bag, then we’re good to go.’

  Ella also turned towards the cream weatherboard building. A frown stripped the vibrancy from her brown eyes as she stared at the left side of the house. Tarpaulins covered the gaping hole where once a door, window, fuse box and laundry had been.

  ‘I’m glad you were in town having coffee with me this morning when that wheat truck made an off-road detour.’

  ‘So am I. I’m also glad it’s school holidays and the kids weren’t in the playground. I still can’t believe the driver walked away.’

  ‘He’s very lucky. According to Edna, Fliss read him the riot act about fatigue management.’

  ‘It would be a foolish man to ignore a Dr Fliss safety talk.’

  Fliss and her cowgirl sister, Cressy, had also become good friends. Fliss lived in a bluestone homestead not far from where Cressy lived on a farm with her bull-riding fiancé, Denham. Freya banished a tug of loneliness. If life hadn’t unravelled last Christmas, she too would be living with the man she’d loved.

  As if sensing her sadness, Ella touched her arm. ‘Let’s finish loading your car and get going before we lose the light.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Freya led the way towards the damaged house. It was no surprise Ella could read her pain. They’d bonded over having had their hearts broken and not being willing to risk investing in another relationship. While Woodlea and the tiny village of Reedy Creek fixated on Cressy and Denham’s late autumn wedding, Freya and Ella made the most of their single status. They’d enjoyed pamper weekends in Dubbo, travelling film festivals and long lunches at food and wine events.

  ‘So,’ Ella said, as Freya held the screen door open and the vet walked through. ‘Are you going to tell me where you’re moving to or is the big secret you’re setting up a Christmas shop in Woodlea’s Main Street?’

  ‘Now there’s a tempting idea.’ Freya smiled and followed Ella inside. Without the hum of the air-conditioner the house remained airless and hot. ‘I loved that Christmas shop we visited in Mudgee when we went to the readers’ festival. It’s not really a big secret where I’m staying.’ She paused as she remembered the intent stare of masculine dark-blue eyes. ‘Drew just asked me to keep it quiet.’

  Ella stopped in the narrow hallway and turned, her mouth open. ‘As in Drew Macgregor? You’re staying out at Inglewood with dashing and distant Drew?’

  ‘Yes. His goddaughter Hattie is in kindergarten and he says offering me a place to stay is the least he can do to say thank you for making sure she’s okay.’

  The shy six-year-old had become an orphan earlier that year when an explosion on their farm had killed her parents. Her mother had been with her father when he’d refuelled the farm truck and the fuel pump had failed. Hattie now lived in town with her mother’s sister and husband and their twin sons. The tragedy had rocked Reedy Creek and Woodlea and both close-knit communities continued to mourn the loss of a much-loved young couple.

  ‘Poor little Hattie. This Christmas will be hard for her.’

  ‘It will be but she’s surrounded by people who care for her so I hope she’ll be okay. She’s a brave little girl.’

  ‘She is. She loves that stubborn pony of hers. I’ve bought him a red Christmas halter and reindeer ears so she can dress him up.’

  ‘Panda will look adorable.’

  ‘He will.’ Ella stared at Freya and shook her head. ‘Drew Macgregor … wait until Edna hears where you’re staying. Tanner and Drew remain the top contenders on her future-husband list for Bethany. It goes without saying that if things don’t work out at Drew’s, there’s a bed at my place for however long you need it.’

  ‘Thanks. All should be fine. Drew said he’ll hardly be home because of harvest. Inglewood isn’t far from here so I can still run my Christmas craft classes in the Reedy Creek hall. He also isn’t the most … social of men so I’ll have my own space.’

  Ella grinned. ‘Now that’s an understatement. He isn’t named distant and dashing Drew for nothing. He’s more reclusive than a hermit. I used to think he was a figment of Edna’s imagination until one of his stockhorses went through a fence in a storm. Even when I was there, he wasn’t exactly talkative.’

  ‘Tell me about it. The only person I’ve seen him speak more than two sentences to is Hattie.’ Freya fanned her face before taking the band around her wrist to tie her heavy hair into a ponytail. ‘I’d better get my bag packed before we sweat like we did in that sauna and steam room.’

  She turned to head into her bedroom before Ella realised the flush colouring her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat. The pale skin that went with her red hair revealed her every emotion and she didn’t need perceptive Ella to realise that at the school Christmas concert she’d done more than a little observing of Drew Macgregor. There was something about the dark-haired, broad-shouldered cattleman with the rare smile that made it impossible to stop thinking about him.

  She threw clothes into a duffle bag. Her fingers stilled on a pretty deep-red dress hanging in her cupboard. The moment she’d tried on the sleeveless lace dress she’d known it would be a perfect Christmas Day outfit. Her fingers clenched. But thanks to discovering her fiancé’s definition of ‘Christmas drinks’ involved him and his latest intern naked on his desk, the dress remained unworn.

  She pushed aside the anger and hurt and uncurled her fingers. Never again would she render herself vulnerable by trusting. Never again would she allow her tunnel v
ision to blind her. Never again would she allow her soft heart to lead her astray. She slipped the dress off the hanger and folded it to pack in her bag.

  Yes, she did speak quietly and preferred to keep the peace. Yes, her small stature gave the impression of fragility. Yes, she did prefer to blend into the background. But the side of her she’d always tempered to avoid conflict had been liberated. When Charles had called asking for a second chance, she’d cut him off mid-sentence in a dismissive tone worthy of any courtroom opposing counsel. She now lived life on her own terms. And she’d continue to do so by making this the best Christmas ever, for herself, for sweet little Hattie and for the still grieving Reedy Creek community.

  Bag packed, she headed out to where the sun dipped towards the horizon. A pair of galahs trilled as they swooped overhead to land in the cedar tree. A gentle evening breeze brushed the heat from her skin. She stopped and smiled. She loved this time of day. The schoolyard and surrounding bush came alive as birds and wildlife emerged from the shade to eat and drink. The wallabies that lived beyond the school fence grazed on the green patch of grass where the sprinklers overshot the lawn.

  Ella too stopped to look at the wallabies. She adjusted her hold on the large box of craft supplies Freya would need for her workshops.

  ‘Now that’s something you wouldn’t see in the city,’ the vet said, voice serious as she glanced at Freya.

  She knew what Ella was really asking. The Reedy Creek School might only have nine students, but between a handful of challenging boys and the isolation, parents had become used to seeing teachers come and go.

  ‘No, it isn’t, and I’m glad to say it’s a sight I’ll see many times. My city days are behind me. I’m here to stay.’ Freya studied her half-demolished house. ‘Even if I have nowhere to live and even if I have to spend Christmas with a man who I’m sure won’t hang a single bunch of mistletoe.’

  * * *

  Drew Macgregor returned to a farmhouse that should have been dark. Instead, pale light spilled from the east wing. Freya George, the composed, quiet teacher with the serene smile, had moved in.

  He parked his ute in the shed. Even when the engine noise died he remained in his seat, staring at the light. Today had been like any other harvest day, intensive and exhausting. But for some reason fatigue bit even deeper than usual. When he’d heard the wheat truck had ploughed into Freya’s home he’d been surprised by his reaction. Concern had coiled around his chest and pulled tight. Before he’d made the conscious decision to check she was okay, he’d realised he already had the UHF radio in his hand to call his workman to take over driving the header.

  Drew rubbed at his chin and his stubble rasped in the silence. He still didn’t know what he’d been thinking asking Freya to stay. When he’d arrived to see her assessing the damage, standing so still and so silent, an unexpected protectiveness had stirred inside. A tendril of hair had escaped her usual neat bun. He hadn’t been able to keep his attention away from how the vibrant red contrasted with her flawless skin. He was yet to look into her grey-blue eyes and not feel like he’d surfaced after holding his breath under water for too long.

  He pushed open the ute door. He should have used Freya’s hesitation when she’d asked if he was certain about having her stay as a way out. But no, he’d made some excuse about him needing to repay her kindness to Hattie. He sighed and left his seat. He had planned to do that with a large box of handmade chocolates, not by inviting her into his home.

  He unloaded the esky from the back of his ute. The last time he’d had someone stay was years ago after his parents’ funeral. He knew exactly how Hattie felt losing her family. He briefly closed his eyes. As tired as he was, his grief and his guilt still had the power to wound him.

  Home from university for the summer, he was supposed to have driven to the coast to inspect a mob of cattle. But he’d been making the most of the district’s social scene and had become distracted by a bubbly blonde he’d met at the picnic races. He hadn’t made it back from her place in time, so his father had elected to fly his light plane and his mother had offered to keep him company.

  Drew’s steps dragged as he made his way towards the back kitchen door. A violent storm had ensured they’d never reached their destination. From that day onward he’d never allowed himself to be distracted again. Not by a pretty face, not by a social event or a holiday like Christmas and especially not by his own needs. Inglewood was his life. He’d work around the clock to honour his parents’ memory. He’d work himself to the point of exhaustion so he wouldn’t have time to think or feel.

  A wet nose touched his wrist and he ruffled the head of the liver-coloured kelpie that appeared out of the darkness. The dog whined.

  ‘I know, Bailey. We don’t normally have company but everything’s okay. I hope you minded your manners when our guest arrived. Freya’s a city girl. I’m sure where she comes from dogs don’t roll in anything dead or lift their legs on everything within reach.’

  The kelpie licked his hand.

  ‘I’ll put this inside and feed you and Panda. I’m surprised he’s not trumpeting the house down. All he thinks about is that stomach of his. Hattie will have to let the girth out another hole when she rides him.’

  As Hattie now lived in the Reedy Creek village and not on the farm where she’d grown up, Inglewood had become Panda’s new home. The six-year-old had already lost so much, she didn’t need to also lose her beloved pony.

  Drew continued through the garden that consisted of a thick lawn, established shade trees and a hardy bed of purple irises. Gardening wasn’t high on his priority list. He kept the lawn short and removed the weeds to make sure the garden wasn’t snake friendly, otherwise all his energy went into running the farm. It wasn’t pride or ego that had driven him to purchase two neighbouring properties to expand his holdings, just his vow to fulfil his father’s dreams.

  At the kitchen door he tugged off his boots. While time had removed the gloss from the extensive house renovations required after a bushfire, his mother’s life lessons remained. No farm boots inside. Full stop.

  He entered the kitchen. It was just how he’d left it that morning. Neat and tidy, just how his mother would always leave it. But now a faint floral scent filled the air and over on the island bench sat a bottle of red wine tied with a fancy gold Christmas ribbon.

  Drew crossed the open-plan kitchen to the pantry, which housed a deep freezer. He opened the lid to put in the ice bricks from his esky. Pink and purple plastic containers added colour to a basket that had earlier been empty.

  ‘I hope it’s okay I put some things in there?’ a soft voice said from behind him.

  He spun around, conscious he had grease down the front of his navy shirt and his hair hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. That’s what the cap he’d left in his ute was for, to make him look halfway respectable when out in public.

  In contrast, Freya with her black skirt and pale pink blouse looked fresh, clean and so beautiful his lungs strained for air.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and searched for the right words to prove she hadn’t come to stay with a Neanderthal. He didn’t need the charity ball in a converted cotton gin he’d briefly attended last spring to remind him his small talk needed work. He could speak to his workmen and their wives with ease but he was sure Freya didn’t want to know about how many bags of wheat he’d stripped per hectare today.

  ‘It’s more than fine.’ His voice emerged deeper than he’d intended. ‘Please make yourself at home.’

  ‘Thanks, I will, but I’ll also stay out of your way. I know how busy this time of year is.’

  Her smile failed to reach her thick-lashed eyes. She was as wary of him as he was of her. The knowledge, and her words, lowered the tense line of his shoulders. She’d keep to her wing of the huge house and the only area they’d need to interact in would be the kitchen. He’d hardly know she was there.

  He left the pantry. ‘Thanks for the wine.’

  She moved away to let him pas
s. ‘You’re welcome.’

  He hesitated. He was out of practice entertaining a guest. ‘Would you like a coffee, or tea? I’ll put the kettle on before I feed the animals.’

  ‘No, I had a cuppa earlier. I hope it’s okay but I fed your kelpie and that noisy pony of Hattie’s. I gathered from the way he kicked the gate it was dinnertime.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m home a bit later tonight. You found the food?’

  ‘Yes, the kelpie ran to the shed door so I gathered that’s where it would be. I have a feeling I might have given Panda too much. He looked at me as though Christmas had come early.’

  ‘I bet he did. He usually gets half a scoop of lucerne chaff.’

  ‘Oops.’ He glanced away from where Freya bit the fullness of her smooth bottom lip. ‘I gave him two. He acted like he was starving.’

  Drew chuckled as he leaned back against the sink, surprised the sound came so easily. ‘He’s such a greedy guts. I’ll lunge him tomorrow so he can work off his dinner. Bailey will be fine with whatever you gave him.’

  ‘He’s a great dog.’

  He briefly turned to flick on the kettle. Her tone had been genuine. He’d expected her to not appreciate Bailey’s youthful kelpie energy.

  ‘He can be a little full-on.’

  She smiled and this time her eyes warmed. He folded his arms, thankful Freya wore her conservative clothes and practical hairstyle. Usually she was surrounded by students, but now it was just the two of them, there was no escaping the way she made his pulse kick. If she affected him dressed like the sensible schoolteacher she was, he didn’t want to imagine how his testosterone would react should her heavy auburn hair fall down her back and her clothes hug her gentle curves.

  ‘Just like any young dog. I might have grown up in Sydney but we had a family dog and I did ride horses. Some of my favourite memories are attending pony camp on a property outside Bathurst. I’ll be right to lunge greedy little Panda tomorrow.’