THE CRAIG’S GULLY DOMAIN, a ten-acre paddock near the lake, bordered by trees that were at least a hundred years old, with its clubrooms, children’s playground, tennis courts and a barbecue picnic area was as familiar to Matilda Dawson as the gardens surrounding the home she’d grown up in. Arriving there straight after the visit to Maggie made it feel as if her entire childhood was beginning to fold itself around her like a cloak.
One that felt too heavy. Too hot on this summer’s day. Too...suffocating?
She could hear the peal of a child’s laughter in the distance, the barking of a dog and the whinny of an overexcited pony. She could see colour everywhere, as both children and their ponies were getting ready for the grand parade and the judging of the fancy-dress costumes. As she and Harry got closer to the picnic area she could even smell the last sausage being taken from the grill to get wrapped in soft bread with a generous splodge of tomato sauce on top.
Good grief...she could almost taste how delicious it was going to be to that hungry child who’d come looking for more food.
The area around the clubrooms was a hive of activity. There were parents tidying up equipment that had been used for games, older riders stacking jumping poles onto a trailer and rolling barrels into the storage space behind the building and other adults who were gathered near one of the big wooden tables that held an urn of hot water, a huge enamel teapot and plates of homemade biscuits and slices.
A chorus of greetings began as soon as they were within earshot.
‘Tilly... Merry Christmas! It’s so good you could come...’
‘How’s your dad? We’ve all heard the news...’
Judging by the looks Harry was receiving, everybody had also heard the news that she’d brought a man home for the first time, which meant that everybody was talking about her. That weighty cloak Tilly had been aware of carrying on her shoulders got a little bit heavier.
‘What terrible timing to break his leg right before Christmas...’
‘Tilly! It must be ten years since I saw you... You haven’t changed a bit.’
That had to be the understatement of the year, Tilly thought, but she recognised an old school and pony club friend just as easily, although Shelley had cut her hair short and had a baby in her arms.
‘Would you like a cup of tea? Something to eat?’
‘Mrs Patterson.’ Tilly turned to the older woman, who really hadn’t changed a bit in more than the last decade. ‘Are you still the president of the club?’
‘Call me Helen, dear. You’re all grown up now.’ Helen was smiling. ‘And no, I haven’t been president for a long time, but I’d never miss the Christmas party. I’m always on the judging panel with Jim.’
Tilly was about to introduce Harry to Helen but, as she turned, she could see—and hear—a parent coming towards them, carrying a child who was cradling his arm and sobbing loudly.
‘Thank goodness you’re here, Tilly,’ Helen said. ‘We’ve been missing having Jim as our first aid officer. Looks like Max is our first injury of the day.’
But it wasn’t Tilly who got to the child first. It was Harry. She could hear his voice over the miserable crying.
‘Is it a plane? Is it a bird? No...it has to be Superman...’
The boy was, indeed, wearing a Superman outfit but the excited announcement of his arrival was enough of a surprise to make his cries fade as he stared at Harry instead.
‘Max fell off Toby.’ His mother sounded worried. ‘He’s hurt his arm.’
‘Are you sure he wasn’t flying?’ Harry asked. ‘Like this?’ He held his arms straight in front of him, his head lowered, but he was peeping up at Max.
Tilly saw him wiggle his eyebrows. Max not only stopped crying completely, he giggled.
‘Can I see your arm?’ Harry asked. ‘I know all about flying injuries. Batman came into my hospital once. He’d fallen out of the sky too.’
Max’s mother was staring at Harry with an expression very similar to her son’s, but there was less tension in her body language. ‘Max is upset in case it means he’s going to miss the parade.’
‘Let’s see about that,’ Harry said. ‘How ’bout we fly you over to the picnic table, Max?’
The small boy seemed happy to be lifted and swooped away to sit on the edge of the picnic table.
‘Can you do the secret Superman wave?’ Harry had his arms in the air again, this time moving his hands and fingers in gentle spirals.
He could.
‘And can I feel those super muscles in your arm?’
Tilly could see how gentle Harry was being as he examined Max’s arm and how thorough he was being, despite the unusual approach to an orthopaedic assessment. She could also see the way Max’s mother melted under a smile from Harry as he finished, and she could feel herself frowning at the reminder of why she’d never wanted to have anything to do with this good-looking Irishman. Why she’d kept herself safe from falling under that charming spell.
‘I don’t have my X-ray vision working today, but I’m happy this isn’t an obvious fracture,’ he said to Max’s mother. ‘If we put a nice firm bandage on it, I think Max will be good to go for the parade, but if you notice any swelling or increased pain later on he’ll need to be seen again.’
Helen found the first aid box and provided a bandage. She even found a tissue for Max to blow his nose on.
‘You go and get ready now,’ she told him. ‘Maybe Mum can lead Toby in the parade for you so there’s no chance of any more bumps.’ She turned to Tilly. ‘Head out to the middle of the domain and we’ll get organised to ride in a big circle around you.’ She beamed at Harry. ‘And take this gorgeous young man with you. He’s clearly an expert on superheroes and probably dragons and elves as well.’ She turned away. ‘I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve just got to find the box of rosettes and ribbons.’
Harry was nodding but he raised an eyebrow at Tilly as Helen sped off. ‘Dragons?’
Tilly pointed as she started walking towards the middle of the large grassy area. ‘Over there.’
The pony had a green blanket draped over its body, and there were soft fabric spikes attached to its mane and tail. The rider was wearing a brightly coloured dress and some butterfly wings. There was a unicorn behind her and then a small Shetland pony that was covered in a fluffy white costume to look like a sheep, with her rider dressed as Little Bo Peep.
‘There’s Maggie’s grandies.’ Tilly pointed again. ‘The matching reindeer and elves.’
The twins’ ponies had reindeer antlers attached to their bridles and sleigh bells and tinsel on the reins. Five-year-old Sammy and George had green elf costumes with stripy red and white socks and hats with large plastic ears attached and their father walked between the ponies holding the lead ropes.
‘I assumed they were identical twins,’ Tilly said. ‘I didn’t expect one of them to be a girl. Is Sammy a Samantha or George a Georgia?’
‘Could be either,’ Harry said. ‘But it doesn’t matter—they’re both adorable. Will you look at those smiles?’
But Tilly was looking at Harry. ‘You really like kids, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
‘Have you got any of your own?’
He looked startled. ‘I’m single,’ he told her. ‘I thought you knew that.’
‘Being single and being a father are not mutually exclusive,’ Tilly said. ‘And...well...you must know the kind of reputation you have with women.’
For a heartbeat it felt as if Tilly was looking at someone she’d never seen before. Someone who was not only hurt by what she’d said but was somehow deeply disappointed? The impression was gone as instantly as a switch being flicked, however, and the Harry Doyle she was more familiar with was back again as he shrugged.
‘What can I do?’ he murmured. ‘For some inexplicable reason, women seem to fall in love with me with no encouragement.’
Tilly wasn’t about to tell him that the reason was actually quite obvious. Or that no more encouragement than one of those smiles was probably needed. Instead, she looked away to where the line of ponies and children was getting rapidly longer.
‘Have you never fallen in love back, then?’ she asked lightly.
‘Why would I do that?’ Harry’s tone was just as light. ‘It might just give me another place I wouldn’t want to go back to.’
Like he hadn’t wanted to go back to his homeland? Because he didn’t want to be reminded of losing his mother? What was that saying about many a true word being spoken in jest? Tilly stole another sideways glance. Somehow the idea of him having been so devastated by losing his mum didn’t fit at all with the image of a man who wasn’t bothered by any broken hearts he was leaving in his wake.
Helen arrived with the box of ribbons and rosettes and a megaphone and the parade began as ponies and riders began walking in a big circle around the judges.
‘They all deserve a prize,’ Harry declared.
‘Well, we’ve got enough ribbons,’ Helen said. ‘We’d just need to come up with enough categories.’ With a smile, she handed Harry the megaphone.
Again, here was the Harry that Tilly thought she knew. The confident charmer who could walk into any space and become the centre of attention. The man that every woman wanted to be noticed by. And the fact that he had the ability to dry a child’s tears with a performance like the one she’d witnessed when he’d looked after Max would only make him that much more attractive to anyone who was seeking a father for her future children.
It was just as well she wasn’t planning on having a family herself, wasn’t it?
Harry quickly got into announcing categories and winners. Helen and Tilly attached the ribbons and rosettes to the ponies and congratulated the riders. By the time the adults in the audience realised that every single child was going to be awarded a prize, Harry had won their wholehearted support and the clapping and cheers got more enthusiastic.
‘And the prize for the best retro costume—not to mention a reminder that we should all take the time to smell the flowers—are our hippies.’
The pony had peace signs painted on its flanks and a garland of flowers around its neck to match the wreath its rider was wearing along with her fringed vest and flared jeans.
The best nursery rhyme character went to the sheep and Bo Peep and there was an ‘African animal’ category for the white horse with black zebra stripes and the brown one that had been painted to look like a giraffe. Maggie’s grandchildren were awarded a ‘best matching’ prize.
Helen made a brief speech thanking all the parents for their support and wishing them all a happy holiday period. She finished by thanking Tilly and Harry for their help with the judging.
‘And please tell Jim that the whole club is wishing him a very speedy recovery from his injury,’ she finished.
‘Yeah...’ someone shouted. ‘I’m not putting my hand up to clean those barbecues again.’
Tilly was shaking her head as they drove away from the domain a short time later. ‘I can’t believe Dad still fronts up and cleans those barbecues,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been to a pony club picnic in nearly twenty years. Guess it’s one of those small-town things you can never escape if you still live here.’
‘Why would you want to?’ Harry asked. ‘That was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. You’ve already got the pony,’ he added. ‘You just need a few kids to go with it.’
‘Spud’s retired.’ Tilly didn’t want to continue this conversation. ‘And I’m no more interested in having kids than you are.’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,’ Harry protested. ‘Just that I don’t have any. Yet.’
‘How many are you thinking of having?’
‘Six.’ Harry’s tone was decisive. ‘That way none of them would ever get lonely.’
Tilly laughed out loud but a part of her was imagining Harry with a whole tribe of children and it was making her feel...what...shut out of something important? Like the feeling of coming home she’d had arriving back at the old house tucked into the hills or feeling the warmth of the greetings today from people she hadn’t seen for so many years. Like when she’d felt Maggie hugging her back or when she’d seen Shelley with her baby and the man who’d been doing her father’s job of cleaning the barbecue.
And there was something else nagging at the back of her mind. Harry had been an only child too. Had he wished for a whole tribe of siblings because of how lonely he’d been himself?
It was tempting to ask but Tilly stopped herself because she had a feeling that she might get another glimpse of the man hiding behind what Harry preferred the world to see. Like seeing the person who’d looked disappointed or hurt, even, by the suggestion he had a reputation that was less than desirable when it came to his relationships with women. Maybe she didn’t want to know any more about who the real Harry Doyle might be because there was something here that went far beyond any charm or good looks. Something compelling enough to be disturbing. Something that would draw her too close for comfort.
Fortunately, Harry didn’t seem to want to reveal anything else.
‘It might never happen,’ he said. ‘I’m happy the way I am. I love my work.’
‘Me too,’ Tilly said. ‘My career is everything I could have dreamed of, and you can’t have that and have kids as well.’
‘Some people do.’
‘Well, it’s not fair on the kids.’ Tilly knew she sounded too vehement. Angry, even, so she took a breath and tried to sound like a reasonable adult and not like an unhappy child. ‘I’m not going to be the kind of mother who’s never there when she’s needed. To have kids who know they’re not as important as her damn career.’
Harry might be looking out of his side window but she could feel that he was listening to every word.
‘My father pretty much brought me up on his own.’
‘Looks like he did a good job,’ Harry said. ‘And he managed to have a career of his own at the same time. I got the impression that he’s a much-loved member of this community.’
Tilly blew out a frustrated breath this time. ‘I have no desire to end up as a rural GP. Can you imagine how boring that would be after years in a big city emergency department? Treating the same chronic health problems or minor injuries day after day? Anything really interesting or challenging and you’d be referring them to someone else or calling a helicopter to take them away.’
But Harry didn’t seem to be listening to her any longer. He was even more focused on the view from his window. ‘They work hard around here, these farmers. Will you look at all that hay?’
Huge round bales were dotted over the paddocks they were passing and there were teams of people busy with tractors and other large pieces of machinery.
‘It’s probably baleage rather than hay.’ Tilly was more than happy to move away from discussing anything personal—like Harry’s plans to go back to Ireland and create a big happy family—and go back to her role as a tour guide. ‘They look like they’re getting ready to wrap the bales in plastic. It’s quicker to make because you don’t have to leave it to dry so long and it’s easier to store. But you’re right. They’ll be working hard to get it all in while the weather holds. And hoping to get the day off to have Christmas with their families, I expect.’
Yep. This was working well. That disturbing sensation of getting too close to the real Harry was fading fast.
‘They’ll be making the most of the long summer evenings. It’s light enough to work until about ten o’clock at night at the moment.’
It was still more than light, and warm, enough to have dinner outside in the courtyard at the back of the old Dawson villa. Recycled bricks for paving and a lush grapevine growing over a pergola to create a green ceiling gave the area a European vibe, even without the rustic furniture, citrus trees like lemons and mandarins growing in half wine barrels and a generous scattering of candle-holders. A long table and chairs took up one part of the courtyard and there was a seating area around an enormous fire pit on the other side, near a barbecue set up that was more like an outdoor kitchen.
Jim Dawson was sitting in the wheelchair, his moonboot supported by a cushion on the solid wooden bench running the length of the outdoor table, supervising Harry, who was cooking vegetables on a solid grill and about to add some thick slices of fillet steak to the grill over open flames.
‘Put Tilly’s on first,’ Jim directed. ‘She likes it incinerated, don’t you, love?’
‘It’s called “well done”, Dad.’ Tilly put a bowl of fresh green salad on the table beside a basket of bread and smiled at her father as she began arranging cutlery and plates. ‘It’s good to see you looking a bit brighter.’
‘The painkillers are doing a good job.’ Jim nodded. ‘Plus, I slept most of the afternoon while you were out. I couldn’t do much else after I found that all the needles were falling off that old fake tree. I’ll test out my crutches when I go and find a real one to chop down in the back paddock after dinner, but I might need some help getting it back to the house.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Tilly said. ‘You’re allowed to test out your crutches to get around the house when it’s absolutely necessary, but that’s it. If we see you even trying to put any weight on that leg you’ll lose that privilege as well. I’m sure there must be a bedpan amongst that medical museum you’ve collected out in the barn.’
Harry was grinning broadly. ‘I think she’s serious, Jim. Don’t worry, I’ll go and cut down a tree for you.’ He was using tongs to turn fried potatoes and mushrooms. ‘Let’s enjoy dinner first, though. This smells so good.’
‘Thanks, lad.’ But Jim had caught Tilly’s gaze. ‘Now, tell me more about how Maggie seemed and how the rest of the family is holding up. And I want to know all about the pony club parade too. It’s the first time I’ve missed it in more than twenty-five years.’
It was Harry who added considerably to Tilly’s reports on their afternoon. He wasn’t simply a born entertainer, she thought, he was a born storyteller as well. He had them all laughing as he described his terror at seeing a wall of sheep ahead when he had a sheer cliff on his side and again as he role-played the response that people in Ireland might have to ponies and riders dressed up like dragons or elves.
‘Sounds more like leprechauns.’ His accent was stronger than Tilly had ever heard before. ‘Were they as short as our tricksy little fairies? Did you get your three wishes?’
And then he had them all almost in tears as he talked to Jim about Maggie.
‘She’s in the best place she could possibly be,’ he said quietly. ‘In the very heart of her family. And in what has to be the most beautiful part of this world I think I’ve ever seen.’
Jim didn’t have any hesitation to ask about things that Tilly was avoiding.
‘You must be missing your family, lad,’ he said. ‘Especially at this time of year.’
‘There was only ever my mam,’ Harry told him. ‘And she died not long after I graduated from medical school. When I was working too many hours to be able to get home for Christmas. But I had it all planned for the next year. I was going to buy the apartment she was living in for her so she’d never have to move again.’
Tilly could see all those years of experience in hearing people’s stories etched in the lines of empathy in her father’s face but it wasn’t hard to feel beneath Harry’s words herself. She could hear the loneliness of a small boy and, if she hadn’t already been aware of how hard the loss of his only parent had been, she would have heard how much love there had been between them in that desire to protect his mother and keep her safe for the rest of her life. To make her happy, which was pretty much what her motivation had been when she’d lied to her father about Harry.
‘So you had to move a lot?’ Jim asked.
‘We had to go to where Mam could find a new job. Or cheaper rent. I think I went to about fifteen different schools.’
‘Not easy,’ Jim murmured. ‘Being the new kid at school is always scary.’
Harry laughed off what had probably been only a part of a tough childhood. ‘Especially when you’re the new kid with sticky-out ears. I looked like a wee leprechaun myself, so I did. If I hadn’t figured out I could use it to make people laugh, I would have been the most picked-on kid ever.’
So his ability to put on a performance and such a convincing act had come from learning to survive? How much had he been bullied before he’d figured out a way to deflect any attacks? Tilly found herself staring at the tousled waves of dark hair on Harry’s head. Did he wear his hair that little bit longer than could be considered neat because he’d learned that it could hide his ears?
Yeah...now that she was looking for it, she could see the outline of Harry’s ears quite clearly and the squeeze on her heart was so hard she could feel a part of it cracking. There was something that he must have learned long before he was in control of how long his hair was and that would have been how to protect himself from being picked on by hiding any feelings that would make him seem weaker—like being scared or lonely.
Oh, man...she knew how hard it was to hide feelings like that. And how you had to do it all by yourself because telling someone who you loved the most—like your only parent—would have caused even more pain.
Sometimes, being pulled closer to someone was impossible to predict or resist. The unexpected feeling of a connection with Harry on a level this deep was like something sharp widening that crack in her heart, opening up a place that hadn’t seen the light of day for a very long time.
It was so bright it was blinding.
Painful, even. And, weirdly, given that the light was only imaginary, it seemed to be bright enough to be making her eyes water.
Good grief...
What on earth had possessed him to talk about his childhood like that? To confess the curse of ears that he’d learned to disguise well enough as a teenager by keeping the waves of his hair long enough. He suspected that Tilly’s father had seen through his joking about being shifted from pillar to post and bullied at every new school, but maybe it didn’t matter that Jim—or Tilly, for that matter—knew more about him than anyone else.
It felt as if it wouldn’t make any difference. Not simply because he was only here for a couple of days but because he felt welcome enough to feel at home, both in this wonderful old house but amongst the community the Dawsons were a part of. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Tilly that the pony club picnic had been one of the best parties he’d ever been to. He liked these people. He liked Tilly’s father. He wasn’t going to think about whether or not he really liked Tilly, however, because that would inevitably remind him of that unsettling physical attraction he’d experienced earlier that afternoon.
Helpfully, Jim was providing a distraction as he reached for the crutches he’d propped against the end of the table.
‘Where are you off to, Dad?’ Tilly’s tone suggested she was about to order him to sit down again.
‘I’m about ready to hit the sack.’ he responded. ‘It’s been quite a day and those pills have knocked me a bit.’
‘Don’t you want any dessert? I could make a quick fruit salad to have with some ice cream.’
Jim shook his head, but he was smiling. ‘Not for me, thanks, love.’ He was pushing himself to his feet, with one hand on the edge of the table for balance.
Harry started to get to his feet to help but Jim shook his head again. ‘Stay there, son. You’ve done enough to help for one day. I can manage.’
Tilly followed her father back into the house, watching carefully that he didn’t put any weight on his injured leg, but she came back to the courtyard only a short time later.
‘It’s a good thing the house is all on one level. He’s determined to be independent, but I don’t think he’ll get himself into too much trouble between the bathroom and his bedroom.’ She put a bowl onto the table. ‘Cheat’s dessert,’ she admitted. ‘But you can’t leave Central Otago without tasting some of the stone fruit we’re famous for. And it’s not Christmastime without cherries.’
Harry reached for a cluster of the plump, bright red cherries as Tilly sat down, but she had the same idea and his fingers touched hers before they found the fruit. That sharp tingle of awareness as his skin touched hers should have been more than enough of a warning but it didn’t stop him lifting his gaze as Tilly put a cherry to her mouth moments later and bit into it. Seeing dark red juice staining her lips made that tingle morph into a shaft of a much more intense sensation that came from deep in his belly. This was a warning he couldn’t afford to ignore. There was no way he could sit here and watch her eat cherries.
Harry avoided meeting Tilly’s gaze so she couldn’t know the direction his thoughts were trying to go. He stood up as well, perhaps for the reassurance that he was still in complete control of his body.
‘It’ll be dark soon,’ he said. ‘Is there enough time for me to go and cut down that tree your dad wants?’
‘Oh... I’d forgotten about that. Yes...’ Tilly got back to her feet. ‘We’d better do that, or he might head out with a saw first thing in the morning. I’ll just take these plates inside and give them a quick rinse.’
‘I’ll help.’
Harry picked up Jim’s empty plate and then stepped close enough to reach for Tilly’s, only she was already reaching to pick up her own plate and, again, their hands touched. This time, it seemed that both of them were shocked by that electric tingle. Plates clattered down onto the table and cutlery jangled onto the bricks below. Harry stooped to gather up the knives and forks and, as he straightened, he noticed two things.
One was that Jim Dawson was standing in the window of a nearby room on the corner of the house, leaning on his crutches as he looked out, probably to enjoy the sight of the fairy lights and candles in this courtyard as the daylight faded. The other was that he’d somehow got a lot closer to Tilly, who had stacked up the plates on the table. She held her hand out for the cutlery.
‘I can see your dad at a window,’ he said. ‘In the room under the turret.’
‘That’s his bedroom. That’s where he’s supposed to be.’
Tilly had wrapped her fingers around the cutlery handles, but Harry didn’t let go. ‘If I can see him, he can see us.’
Tilly wasn’t letting go of the cutlery either. And now her gaze was holding his just as tightly. He saw the tip of her tongue emerge to touch her lips.
‘So...?’
‘So maybe we should give him something more interesting to see...?’
He could see the instant that Tilly understood what he was suggesting. And, despite the fading light and the dark brown colour of her eyes, he was sure he could see her pupils dilating enough to signal that she not only understood, she was up for it.
And maybe it had nothing to do with trying to put on a convincing performance of being a loved-up couple for her father.
Maybe Tilly wanted it as much as he suddenly did?
They were both still holding that damned cutlery as he bent his head to touch her lips with his own, but Harry found himself letting go as the astonishment of that first contact hit home. He needed a hand to cup the back of Tilly’s head and make sure it didn’t move while he took a moment to find out whether a kiss could really feel so totally different to anything he’d ever experienced before.
He discovered that it could about the same time he heard that cutlery hitting the paving again.
He could feel Tilly melting in his arms, which suggested she was under the power of the same spell he was experiencing, so then he needed his other hand to trace the line of her spine, feeling each little bump until he reached the roundness of her buttocks. Now he could support her whole body. He could also pull it a little closer to his own as he fell further into that extraordinary kiss and let his tongue explore the delicious taste of her more thoroughly.
It was when the tip of his tongue touched Tilly’s that it happened.
A change as sudden as a physical blow that came from nowhere as every muscle in Tilly’s body tensed so fast it felt as if someone had waved a wand and turned her to stone.
Instinctively Harry jerked back and that was when he could see an expression in her eyes that sent a chill rippling down his spine.
Tilly looked...
Dear Lord...was she frightened? Of him?
It was a moment of utter confusion. What on earth had made her react to a kiss like this? Or should the question be who, not what?
Harry didn’t get time to process the implications of that thought because he could hear Tilly’s name being called. Urgently. As if her father was aware of her reaction even though he’d been too far away to see it, and that was beyond strange as well.
Tilly was turning to the window her father must have just opened.
‘What’s wrong?’
Harry could see that Jim had a phone in his hand. ‘It’s not me. There’s been an accident. Down on the Marshalls’ farm, near the domain. They need help. Fast.’
Tilly was already moving quickly, and Harry was right behind her. ‘Do you know what’s happened?’ he called back to Jim.
‘It sounds bad.’ Jim sounded upset. ‘Take my truck—it’s got all the gear locked in the back tray and you’re going to need it. There’s an ambulance on the way from Queenstown but you’ll get there first.’ His voice cracked. ‘And they’re not likely to have a field amputation kit if it’s needed. Someone’s got themselves caught in a hay baler.’