IT WAS AFTER nine before he arrived back at Two Tails. The surgery had been a success. He should be pleased with himself, but instead he was as drained as he’d ever felt.
Three months away from work, a full day moving around, followed by four hours in Theatre had tested his gammy leg to the limits. And driving home...for some reason the emotions he’d felt as he’d talked to Felix came flooding back. Was he going home to family? He had little idea of the concept, but it surely didn’t apply to coming home to Two Tails.
Coming home to wife and child and dog? The thought was...unnerving. He was far too tired to think about processing it.
The front door was unlocked. He knocked but when he received no answer he went on in.
Kiara and Alice and Benji were all in the living room. The vast open fire formed a soft glow behind them. Kiara was sitting on a rug before the fire, reading.
Alice was lying beside her, her head on Kiara’s knee. A fluffy rug was wrapped around her. Asleep?
Bunji was lying full length beside them both. She opened her eyes as Bryn entered, offered a lazy wag of her tail and then went back to the important job of snoozing.
He stopped dead. It was such a picture. For Alice to be this relaxed, to be sleeping on Kiara’s knee... Kiara’s hand was on her wispy hair, gently stroking.
She looked up as Bryn entered, laid down her book and put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh...’
He came and sat beside them—on the settee because it seemed far too familiar to sit on the rug itself.
‘Welcome home,’ Kiara whispered, and what was there in that to make his gut twist? ‘How did it go?’
‘One seventeen-year-old who’ll live to do something stupid again, I dare say,’ he told her. ‘Joyriding. Kids.’
‘But you succeeded.’
‘Impossible to say for sure until he wakes up but I’m hopeful. We got the pressure off fast.’
‘Well done, you,’ she said and smiled and there was that gut twist again. ‘So, pizza... It won’t be great but it’s edible. If you’re anything like me, you can subsist quite nicely on reheated dinners.’
‘Too many wounded dogs in your life?’
‘And too many wounded kids in yours,’ she said gently. But then Alice stirred a little and she hesitated. ‘Actually... Bryn, are you up to helping her up to bed?’
He frowned. ‘She didn’t want to go herself?’
‘She was waiting for you. She was trying to stay awake, but it’s been too big a day. It’d be great for her to have you tuck her into bed.’
‘Kiara...’
‘Mmm?’ The look she gave him was of innocent enquiry, but he had her figured by now. Ever since he’d met her, every step of the way, she’d hauled him into Alice’s life.
Why did it make him feel he needed to back away?
But still he stooped and lifted Alice—she was such a featherweight that with the help of the bannisters he could even do it with his gammy leg. And when she woke and questioned him, he told her yes, he’d managed to sew the kid from the car accident up, and yes, he’d have a scar but he’d be okay.
‘Like Bunji,’ Alice murmured as he carried her upstairs, and then added sleepily... ‘Like me.’
‘Like all of us,’ he said, tucking her into bed and then, because it seemed like the right thing to do, even though she’d shied from any sort of affectionate gesture from the time he’d met her, he bent and kissed her on the forehead. And to his amazement her skinny arms clung and hugged.
‘I’m glad you’re home,’ she whispered. ‘Is Bunji here?’
Bunji had followed them up the stairs and was indeed now in the bundle of rugs beside the bed.
He took Alice’s hand and guided it down to lie on Bunji’s soft head, and then he left them to sleep. And as he made his way down the stairs, he was suddenly overcome with a stupid urge to weep.
For heaven’s sake...he must be more tired than he thought. He gave himself a moment at the foot of the stairs to recover, and then headed back into the living room.
Kiara had cleared the muddle on the coffee table to make room for a plate of pizza and a glass of wine. She was on the rug again. She was wearing shabby jeans and a faded windcheater. Her dusky curls were loose and tousled, her shabby windcheater was way too big for her...and he thought he’d never seen anyone as beautiful.
He needed to pull himself together.
‘Dinner,’ she said, and he sank down onto the armchair and looked at what was before him. And looked again.
Yes, it was pizza, but this was like no pizza he’d ever had delivered. A thick, buttery crust. Tiny baked tomatoes. Fresh...everything. Vegetables that had obviously been grilled beforehand—tiny mushrooms, red peppers, aubergine, zucchini... He could smell herbs...oregano? Thyme? Gorgonzola cheese had been sliced and spread to melt as the pizza cooked, then black pepper sprinkled on and finally a scattering of fresh basil.
‘This is leftover pizza?’ he said, stunned.
‘Pizza’s one of my splinter skills,’ she said proudly. ‘Yours isn’t quite up to scratch because of the reheating, but I have a microwave with a pizza function. It’s therefore not as soggy as it might have been.’
It looked fine to him. More, it looked great. ‘I thought you said you didn’t cook.’
‘I cook pizza.’
‘You made the whole thing?’ For heaven’s sake, he sounded accusatory.
‘I make a heap of dough and freeze individual servings,’ she told him. ‘So yes, Alice and I made it, but we didn’t make it from scratch. Without my store of frozen bases, I’d never have tried them at your place. And,’ she added smugly, ‘apart from the cheese, the topping’s all from my veggie patch. Except for the mushrooms, which are from my little mushroom factory in the back of the hall cupboard. And there’s another lack in your fancy house. I checked your hall cupboard and found not a single mushroom.’
He had to smile back. As far as he knew, his hall cupboard contained one winter coat and one squash racket. It was dusted and aired regularly by his housekeepers. No mushroom would dare show its face.
‘Did Alice eat hers?’
‘Yes, she did.’ She still had that smug smile, and, wow, her smile was infectious. ‘Hers might not have looked quite like ours, though,’ she confessed. ‘She made her own, with tomato sauce, cheese and bacon, and we used a bone-shaped cookie cutter to make her base into mini pizzas. I occasionally make doggy biscuits for my clients. We had to sterilise my cookie cutter to make sure it was an okay for pizzas, but her bone-shape pizzas were excellent.’
He thought of Alice, of how little she’d eaten over the last weeks. Alice, eating bone-shaped pizzas. ‘You’re a marvel.’
‘I know,’ she said smugly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m up to a very exciting part of my book.’
And that was that. She tucked Alice’s rug around her knees and disappeared into her story. Leaving him to enjoy his dinner.
Which was, in itself, extraordinary.
He thought briefly back through the long list of women he’d dated over the years. Of nights spent. Not one of them would abandon talking to disappear into a book.
But this wasn’t dating.
No. It was more than that. It felt...comfortable. He’d come home stressed and tired, fighting emotions he was struggling to understand. He was aware that he was late, aware that there were responsibilities facing him. And instead of more stress, he’d carried a sleeping child up to her bedroom and been hugged. He’d been handed a truly excellent meal, with wine. He’d been allowed to sink into a saggy armchair by an open fire and just...be.
The sensation was extraordinary.
She was sitting beside him, leaning back on an armchair, knees tucked up, rug tucked over her. She was frowning with intent at something she was reading.
There was a wisp of a curl dangling down over her forehead. Close to blocking her sight. It needed to be brushed back.
She was too intent on her story.
Dammit, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and wove his finger through the curl, tucking it behind her ear.
She looked up at him, surprised, but not alarmed. It had been an intensely personal gesture, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.
‘Thanks,’ she said and smiled up at him—and went straight back into her book.
He was left with his pizza and his wine.
He was left feeling...winded.
And that was how their days went. One following another.
He left every morning for Sydney Central, Alice and Kiara waving him off as if this were part of a lifetime routine.
He couldn’t believe how quickly Alice had settled. She was practically blooming. Bunji was hardly limping now, her fur was growing almost to the point where she looked respectable, and she followed Alice with slave-like devotion. Kid and dog were happy.
Kiara was busy. Maureen usually arrived before Bryn left for work and settled into whatever needed doing. She and Alice seemed to become immediate friends, but she could usually only fit in two or three hours. Kiara therefore had little help. Each of the dogs had a training routine, she had clinic to run, but somehow, she seamlessly wove Alice and Bunji into her day. By the time he left for work they were out in the paddock, teaching dogs to heel, to recall, not to jump up when excited.
And every morning when he left, he was aware of a pang of loss. He wouldn’t mind being out there with them.
Which was stupid. His career was medicine. His life was medicine. Kiara was simply taking over part of his responsibility for Alice, while he returned to where he belonged. At the end of the term break, Alice would start at her new school. They’d be back at Clovelly. They’d be back at their new normal.
With Rebecca’s help he’d hired a housekeeper from another agency—a woman he interviewed in a brief break from work, a week after they’d been at Two Tails. Mrs Connor seemed pleasant, happy with the prospect of taking on the care of Alice and Bunji. ‘I have dogs of my own and I’m a grandma,’ she told him. ‘My husband’s retired and my sister lives with us, so I won’t need to rush if you get stuck at work.’
She seemed excellent. His future was therefore starting to feel in control again.
Except...where was Kiara in this picture?
Nowhere, and nor should she be. She’d been employed to do a job. She was doing it handsomely and she’d be paid. Then they’d move on.
With a bit of luck, she might agree to keeping in touch with Alice, he thought, and he told himself that was all there was to it. But as the days passed, the more he thought that wasn’t enough. The relationship between woman and child...it was like gold.
And then there was...the way he felt.
If he got back to Two Tails early enough, he’d usually find them in the kitchen. ‘I don’t usually cook when there’s just me,’ Kiara told him when he queried it. ‘But Alice and I are pulling out Grandma’s recipe books and having fun.’
If he came home later, he’d find them curled up before the fire with books that Kiara had found from her childhood. Alice would be entranced, while Bunji snoozed beside them. He’d carry Alice to bed and be hugged goodnight and then return to the fireside.
To Kiara.
More and more the word family was messing with his thoughts.
‘How do you know how to make Alice so happy?’ Alice was now in bed, he was on his second glass of wine, his leg had miraculously stopped aching and he felt...okay.
‘I guess... Grandma,’ she said simply. ‘Grandma never treated me as a kid—or if she did it was only when she was acting like a kid herself. Anything I know about happiness I learned from Grandma.’
They were in their customary positions, he in his favourite squashy chair, she on the rug, her book ready to be sunk back into. She loved thrillers, she’d told him. The darker the better, and he’d started watching her face as she read, watching her eyes grow rounder as the story got gorier.
He loved watching her.
That errant curl had dropped again. He badly wanted to tuck it back again.
He didn’t dare. If he let himself touch her...
‘So how about you?’ she asked as he fought back the urge to move closer. ‘I’ve told you about me, so tit for tat. Three siblings who don’t seem to know each other. What’s the story there?’
‘Money.’
‘Money?’ She appeared to think about it. ‘I guess,’ she said at last. ‘I hear it does weird things to families. I wouldn’t mind getting involved in some sort of social research myself. If someone were to offer me, say, a million dollars, to see how much it messes with my life, maybe I’d even take the risk.’ She ventured a cautious smile. ‘But go on. Don’t mind me. Tell me the appalling things that money did.’
And he had to smile back. She was irrepressible.
She was gorgeous.
She was waiting for his story—which wasn’t nearly as gorgeous.
Nor was it as bad as hers.
‘Just...socialite stuff,’ he told her. ‘My father married three times. He probably would have added to the tally, but he died of a heart attack when I was eighteen. Before that, he was the heir to serious money, and he was pretty much a serial womaniser. Beatrice was the result of his first marriage. Thea, his first wife, was related to royalty and stood no nonsense. She caught Dad having an affair with an American actress when Beatrice was two, and she took Beatrice straight back to England. Beatrice has been knee-deep in dogs and horses ever since. Dad then married his actress and they had Skye. I believe both of them had affairs, but that marriage ended for good when Skye was five, probably because Dad was having a very public affair with my mother. Mum had money and social connections and the affair hit the media. Thus his next marriage, and me, but that was also a disaster. Mum...just enjoyed the limelight. Domesticity wasn’t her thing, and even now I scarcely know her. She walked out and married someone with even more money when I was three, but she didn’t take me with her. So I was the only one left with Dad.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Not really ouch. I was well treated, big houses, servants, nannies to cater for my every whim...’ He tried to say it lightly, but it didn’t come off.
‘So no Grandma.’
‘I do have a grandma somewhere,’ he told her. ‘On my mother’s side. She’s never shown the slightest interest in meeting me, and vice versa. I don’t need family.’
‘Everyone needs family.’
‘You’ve managed okay.’
‘I had Grandma until four years ago, and I have substitutes. My best friend Hazel—she’s the one who found Bunji—she’s always here for me. And Maureen... You only see her as a part-time worker, but she was my grandma’s best friend and she’d lose an arm for me. Then there’s this community...’
‘Which you’ll leave if you sell.’
Her face clouded. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘But Two Tails was a dream, and maybe it’s time to move on from dreams. Maybe I’ll set up another such shelter in the future, when I’ve saved up again. Find another community somewhere a bit...’
‘Cheaper?’
‘I guess termite-ridden heritage cottages don’t exactly fit my budget.’ She gazed around the room, her eyes suddenly thoughtful. ‘But not yet. What you’re paying me will keep me afloat for a while and this Saturday...well, this is your idea, but Maureen and I have organised a yard sale.’
‘A yard sale...’
‘Yep.’ She motioned to boxes he hadn’t noticed at the side of the room. ‘I’m not being dumb,’ she told him. ‘I rehoused an ancient Peke a while back with a gorgeous old lady—Maire. Her son, Howard, is incredibly grateful—and he runs a chain of antique shops. I asked him to come out and go through this place. If you look, he’s now put stickers under everything he thinks would sell better at auction—or in one of his shops—and the rest will go in the yard sale. Donna, the local newsagent—she owns one of my greyhounds—has organised posters, plus social media stuff. Some of my clients are coming to help—they’re adding cake stalls, fancy goods, you name it. There’ll be balloons on the gate at seven a.m. Maureen and Alice and I are beyond excited.’
‘You’re selling a lot?’ he said faintly, and here came that smile again.
‘I am. Thanks to you. I don’t know how it is but after Grandma died...well, the place was just...how it is. When you showed interest, I thought why am I keeping it? Grandma would love if it keeps Two Tails going a bit longer.’
‘Kiara, let me help,’ he said, suddenly sure. ‘Financially. You know money’s not an issue with me. I hate to think of you selling your belongings to keep it going. Maybe I could even become a silent partner. Whatever you need.’
What followed was a long silence. He could see her running the idea through her head as she considered it from all angles.
‘Wow, that’s a great offer,’ she said at last, and she sounded a bit confused. Cautious. ‘And part of me says yay. But there’s another part... Bryn, that’s hugely generous but I don’t... I don’t think I can do it.’
‘Can I ask why not?’
‘Because I’m stupid?’
‘I’m very sure that’s not the case.’ He was watching an inward struggle, not sure where it was going.
‘I guess...’ She frowned. ‘Look, it doesn’t make sense, and maybe I should take time to consider, but my gut reaction... Bryn, it’s that I don’t want to be bought.’
‘I’m not buying you.’
‘No, but it’s my life. I can’t even explain. Only that Two Tails has been my dream, mine and Hazel’s, and it’s all done on our terms.’
‘I wouldn’t interfere.’
‘No,’ she said, doubtfully. ‘But...’ She hesitated again. ‘Let me give you an example. Bunji. She came to me a mess, she’s cost me a fortune and she was a huge risk. There was a strong probability that she’d either die or be unable to be rehomed. But the risk was mine.’
‘I’d never interfere...’
‘You wouldn’t have to. You’d just be...there.’ Once again, that hesitation, and he could see her struggle to find words. ‘Bryn, it’s Dad. He comes into play here. Whatever I wanted in life, he had control. When I finally got free, the feeling was amazing, and I never want to go back.’
‘I’d never control.’
‘You wouldn’t have to. You’d just be there.’
‘You wouldn’t trust me?’
‘You can’t just turn on trust,’ she said sadly. ‘Look, I know it doesn’t make sense, but I need to do this my way. I’ve accepted your salary and Beatrice’s contribution with gratitude—it really will make a difference. I’ve run with your idea of selling some of Grandma’s possessions and that’ll make a difference, too. But, Bryn, I’m independent and you have no idea how important that is to me.’
‘More important than keeping Two Tails running?’ He heard a current of anger in his voice and had to bite it back.
Why was he angry? That she wouldn’t allow him to help?
That she wouldn’t allow him to be a part of her life going forward?
And maybe that was what she was afraid of. He thought it and accepted it, and the anger died. If it was his independence that was being threatened, then maybe he’d feel the same way.
He would feel the same way.
So, he understood—or he thought he did. And he also understood the slight constraint as she picked up her book, rose and said goodnight.
‘It’s an incredible offer,’ she said. ‘I’m a fool not to accept and I know it. I don’t even fully understand myself why I can’t, but all I know is that it’s the way things are for me.’
He rose, too. For a long moment she just looked at him, questioning? He wasn’t sure why, but he had a strange feeling she was seeing something that maybe he didn’t even understand himself. For suddenly she took a step forward, stood on tiptoes and kissed him. It was the same gesture she’d used before. Their lips brushed, for the most fleeting of moments, and it was done.
‘I suspect we’re two of a kind,’ she said, and there was sadness in her voice now. ‘Tarred with the same brush? So, I’m rejecting your offer for no reason at all, other than I don’t know any other way to live. Thank you, Bryn, and goodnight.’
She’d just rejected an offer to keep Two Tails running. To keep her dream alive.
Why?
Because...of the way Bryn made her feel?
It was crazy and she couldn’t explain it. But as she lay in the dark, searching for elusive sleep, she knew her explanation to Bryn wasn’t the best she could do.
There was another underlying reason that was scaring her witless. The way she was starting to feel.
Of being out of control?
There was that word again. When she’d managed to escape her father’s iron discipline, she’d vowed never to let herself be controlled again, but what Bryn was offering... Surely there was some way they could set things up...a financial partnership where she could still do as she willed... No control on his part at all?
He wouldn’t interfere with her decisions to save her dogs. She knew him well enough to believe that.
But there was the problem. She knew him well enough, and part of her was starting to ache to know him better. Part of her felt that when he came home at night...no, when he came back to Two Tails, not home...that part of her was...complete. His smile as he walked through the door. His stoop to hug his little niece. His hug that embraced Bunji.
The way he smiled at her—and, oh, that smile...
It was nonsense, this way she was feeling, and it had to stop. It made her feel as if her world were teetering and she didn’t know what was on the downside of a fall.
It made her feel as if her precious control of her life was growing more and more fragile and she had to haul it back. To continue seeing him...to have him part of her life, even if it was only financially... It was starting to scare her. She was beginning to feel like a moonstruck teenager, and she had to pull back.
For some reason, letting Bryn Dalton any further into her life was a step that terrified her too much to contemplate.