Christmas at Waratah Bay (8 page)

“Max?”

The kids and Doug were unloading gear from the car. Katie and Max were inspecting the linen cupboard.

The way Katie had said Max, he knew something was coming. Katie was the oldest of his half sisters. She knew him.

“Yes?” It was a very cautious yes.

“You and Sarah . . . She said you’ve only just met.”

“That’s right. She’s Harold’s step-daughter, the guy who owned this house before me.”

“So she said. She seems lovely.”

“I scarcely know her.”

“She was holding your hand.”

“She gets close fast,” he said, turning grim. “She hasn’t seen Harold for years, yet she’s all over him.”

“You disapprove?”

“Yes.”

“She showed us the puppy. She says she’s going to adopt it.”

“So she says.”

“You don’t approve of that, either?”

“It’s all emotion and it’s skin deep. Harold will die and she’ll be out of here.”

“You sound as if you think she’ll dump the puppy as soon as she tires of him.”

“I have no idea what she’ll do.”

“Well, I know,” Katie said, choosing a pile of linen and dumping it into his arms. “I think people have auras and Sarah’s aura is gentle and giving. I think she’s a very nice person, Max Ramsey, and she’s living under your roof. If I were you I’d do something about it.”

“I have no intention . . . ”

“Of sharing? Of course you don’t, and I know why.” Katie eyed him with sisterly understanding. “It’s no wonder you’re a loner. I understand it, but I don’t have to like it. I’m sorry I landed my brood on you for Christmas, but we’ll be out of here soon. You can bolt the barricades again. But, what you need, big brother, is someone to rip those barricades down. Here’s hoping a woman with a dog-ugly dog and a ripper of a smile might be the one to do it.”

“Get out of it,” he said, astounded and she grinned and punched his arm.

“So, I’m matchmaking,” she said. “Give me a break. What else is a thirty-eight week pregnant woman with three kids, two dogs and a house full of asbestos going to do. Matchmaking ’R Us.”

‡

M
idnight. Max had
done another round of the cattle, but not because he needed to. Calving was long finished, the feed in the paddocks was still plentiful and every beast on the place, including Gloria, seemed healthy and at peace.

He did it because he wanted to.

Katy’s words kept playing in his head—and he didn’t like them.

The moon was full. Katy and her brood were tucked asleep in their allotted beds, and he assumed Sarah was, too.

The night was too good for sleeping, and besides, sleep wouldn’t come.

So he walked through the moonlit paddocks, with Bing at his heels, and then he walked over the dividing sand-hills to the beach beyond. The moon was glimmering over the water. He came here often at night. He loved it. He loved the solitude. Apart from the gentle sound of the surf, with the odd lowing from the cattle behind him, there was silence. He loved the knowledge that he owned this place, and that as long as he cared for it, no man could take it away from him.

It was home, he thought, and yet tonight . . . Tonight it wasn’t home. It was a mass of disparate dogs and people. It was noise and jumble and need.

He wanted them all to go away.

Except he didn’t. He couldn’t send his sister away, even though she’d looked thoughtfully at Sarah and then more than hinted at what she’d like the outcome to be.

Romance, wedding, happily ever after, and family Christmases here for generations to come?

He’d discouraged his family from ever coming here. “I’ve bought a farm,” he told them, but he’d never invited them.

“It’s not set up for visitors he’d said, and he’d visited them instead.

Only, of course it was set up for visitors. Tonight they’d sat around the big kitchen table, while Sarah ladled out pasta with sauce and she’d beamed when everyone ate it like she’d just produced a culinary masterpiece. She was playing house-mother and the house could accommodate all comers. Even the linen cupboard had proved to be laden.

But he hadn’t had to explain that lie to Katie. She’d looked at him with understanding, tinged with sadness.

And he hated that, too. It made him feel exposed—that she could see . . .

If it weren’t for Sarah, this wouldn’t be happening. He’d have deflected them. Given an excuse. There was a beach resort just past town. He could have said—truthfully—that it was a great place for kids. He could have set them up there, arranged to meet them for Christmas dinner, got on with his life.

If it weren’t for Sarah, he thought, as he headed back to the house. Sarah . . .

He had to concede she’d been amazing. She’d flown through bed-making—“One thing nursing training does is make you fast at beds!” She’d cooked and served up and cleared. She’d worked her butt off. For a supermodel and one of Harold’s spoiled step-daughters . . . There were things he didn’t understand.

And he didn’t want to understand them, either, he told himself. Sarah was a blip in his peaceful existence. She may well turn the place upside down, but then she’d be gone.

It was time for bed. He headed up the veranda steps . . .

“It’s a great night.” And there she was, almost as if she were waiting for him.

She was wearing baggy pajamas, soft, silk? They were pale blue with roses on them. Her hair was tumbling down her back, tousled, as if she’d gone to bed and got up again.

Those gorgeous toes were bare.

The sight . . . unnerved him. There was something about her that unnerved him.

Yeah, okay it wasn’t “something.” She was just plain beautiful.

Get a grip, he told himself and forced himself to focus on something that wasn’t . . . Sarah. Her pouch was still around her neck. Gerome wasn’t a tiny puppy. The weight might do that gorgeous neck some damage.

“If you put your pup in Bing’s basket he’ll settle,” he found himself saying. “Bing’s my foster Mum. He’s a sucker for babies. He’ll sleep with an orphaned calf and settle it beautifully. I reckon he’ll do the same for Gerome.”

“Really?”

“Really. And it might be more comfortable . . .for both of you.”

Liar, he thought. Gerome could hardly be any more comfortable than where he was right now.

“Would Bing sleep in my room? I kind of need to keep an eye on Gerome.”

“Gerome’s just a dog.”

“Like your cattle are just cattle. Right. They need checking how often?”

“Really often, when my family is here.”

“So it’s not like you care about your cows?”

“I care about my cows.”

“More than your family?”

“That’s a great question from someone who hasn’t seen Harold for how many years?”

There was a moment’s stillness and then she said, very softly: “Butt out of what’s not your business.”

“It’s the business of anyone who loves Harold.”

“If you want me to leave, just say so. Harold doesn’t know he’s coming here yet. We can still go to his house. Just say the word.”

More silence.

She would leave, he thought. He just had to say. Her face was expressionless in the moonlight. Blank. Like a puppy expecting to be kicked? But she looked . . . used to it, he thought. She was waiting for the kick, but not bothering to cringe, because she knew it wasn’t worth it.

What was this woman’s story?

Butt out of what’s not your business.
Her words seemed to echo. He couldn’t ask, but he found his preconceptions shifting a little. She’d left school as a teenager. She’d trained as a nurse, and she’d put in some hard, physical work this afternoon. There must be things in her background . . .

“Well?” she demanded. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said at last, grudgingly. “You’ve invited Katie and her brood. You need to feed them.”

“I didn’t invite them.”

“If it weren’t for you they wouldn’t have stayed.”

“And wouldn’t that have made you feel like the original Scrooge?”

“I’ve given my family enough!” It was an explosion, too loud, too angry. The dogs on the veranda moved back a little, and Bing growled. He clicked his fingers, Bing sidled up to him and he scratched his ears. The small action settled him. Calm down, he told himself. This is only for Christmas.

“How much is enough?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t . . . ”

“I only ask because I’m curious. How much family do you need to have before you start wanting out?”

“Your family wanted out years ago.”

“They certainly did,” she agreed. “Out, all the way. So now, it’s like I’m on the outside, looking in. Trying to figure how people can make you claustrophobic. It could happen,” she conceded. “If I’m here for a few days over Christmas it might even happen to me.”

“It takes years before you learn.”

“Can you unlearn? How long have you been on this place?”

“Sarah . . . ”

“Yeah, I know, not my business,” she said, cordially, and knelt down and fondled Bing’s ears. Under her t-shirt the puppy squirmed and she tugged him out. She set him down on the veranda and he wobbled a couple of puppy steps and sat down.

Bing nosed him and he looked up and whined.

Before he could help himself, Max found himself picking him up and cradling him, rolling him upside down so he lay in his big hands.

The puppy wriggled to make himself more comfortable, then looked up with total trust. He really was the ugliest puppy. He was so ugly he was cute.

The puppy wriggled again and Bing nosed him and plopped down beside Max, as if to say if you want to take him on, I’m with you. This one’s okay.

Bing was right between Max and the girl beside him. The obvious place for Bing to be was on Max’s far side, away from Sarah but Bing was pressed really close to Sarah. Like, he was approving of Sarah as well.

“He really is adorable,” Sarah said, leaning over to stroke her puppy’s tummy. “He’s beautiful.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Every mother thinks their kid’s beautiful.”

“You really do intend adopting him?”

“I already have. Done deal. One look and my heart was his.”

And she spoke lightly, easily, but underneath . . . He could hear the depth of feeling. He could feel the commitment.

“Sarah . . . ”

“Mmm?”

But he didn’t know what he wanted to ask. He wasn’t all that sure what was going on. They were sitting on the top veranda step. The night was warm around them. They really were the most beautiful pajamas . . .

The most beautiful woman . . . .

Yeah, here you go, he told himself, harshly, forcing his mind to be practical. One woman slips into your life and suddenly all your vows seem to be on shaky ground.

Because, sitting here in the moonlight, they did seem shaky.

But they were good vows, and he needed to remember them. He’d seen what emotional entanglement had meant for his mother; it meant chaos. He’d also seen what had happened to Harold. Harold had fallen in love with a gorgeous American. She’d been a real beauty, Harold had said wistfully, showing him a picture of the lovely, laughing Lorissa—the woman who’d been his bride and then proceeded to rob him of everything he had.

This girl was that woman’s daughter.

This woman was far too close for comfort.

He should edge away, but that’d seem crass. Bing was wedged in between them, seemingly taking warmth from both of them as he nosed the puppy. The puppy stretched his head back and Bing licked from tail to chin.

Gerome practically purred.

*

Was there anything
sexier than man with puppy? If there was, Sarah had yet to see it.

Max was your quintessential farmer, a big guy, dressed in battered jeans with his shirt sleeves rolled, his arms all brawn, his big hands sinewed and toughened from hard manual work. Right now, his hands formed a cradle. Gerome lay cocooned by their strength. He was fed, warmed and secure. He was way too skinny but right now his tummy was nicely rounded with the top-up supper she’d just given him.

Max was stroking his tummy. Gerome had his eyes closed in bliss. Whatever nightmares lay in this little guy’s past, they no longer mattered.