Читать книгу Mctavish And Twins - TRISHA DAVID - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

ERIN’S grandpa was just where she’d left him ten years ago.

She turned into the driveway of O’Connell’s farm and looked up to see Jack O’Connell lazily rocking back and forth in his favourite chair on the verandah.

It was like coming home.

Erin beeped the horn as a deep contentment welled up inside her. The events of the past hour faded. She was going to miss her parents so much it hurt—miss home and miss the life she’d built herself—but the decision to come here was the right one. The only one. She had been talking of it for so long—and finally she was here.

Why was this place so special?

The O’Connell place didn’t hold a candle to the McTavishes’. The farm itself was maybe a tenth of the size of the neighbouring landholding, and the small weatherboard cottage looked ramshackle in comparison.

Where the McTavishes had manicured gardens and English oaks and elms, here the paddocks ran right up to the verandah. Fat cattle wandered up to the windows or lazed in the shade of the gum trees round the house. Compared to the McTavishes it was definitely a poor relation—though not quite an abode fit for tramps!

This tramp was content, Erin thought happily. Her grandpa’s farm looked a million dollars to Erin. Home is where the heart is, and Erin’s heart had been split in two since her visit here ten years ago. Half was in America and half was here—but, by coming here, maybe the two halves could be brought closer together.

On the verandah the old man had stopped his rocking, his gnarled, weather-beaten face crinkling into a broad beam of welcome. Jack O’Connell came slowly down the verandah steps, but he hadn’t reached the bottom before Erin was flying up to meet him.

‘Grandpa...’

‘Erin... Erin, love... Well, well...’ Jack O’Connell hugged his granddaughter hard and then held her at arm’s length. ‘Let me look at you.’

‘Let me look at you!’ Erin was laughing and weeping in his arms. ‘Oh, Grandpa...’

He was the same Grandpa. Jack O’Connell was older and infinitely more worn—heavens, he was near eighty now, Erin thought with dismay—but there was life and vigour in the old face yet.

‘Eh, you’re the spitting image of your mother,’ Jack said softly. ‘It’s good to have you here, Erin lass.’

‘It’s good to be here.’ Erin tucked her arm through her grandpa’s and led him back up to the verandah. ‘Now all that’s left for us to do is to catch up on ten years’ gossip.’ She grinned. ‘But we have all the time in the world to do it.’

‘All the time in the world...?’

‘I’m here to stay, Grandpa,’ Erin said firmly. ‘So you’d better get used to me.’

‘Tell me about Mike McTavish,’ Erin ventured over her third cup of tea and Jack’s first beer.

The shadows were lengthening from the towering gum trees, and soon it would be time for dinner, but neither Erin nor Jack felt like moving. There was a deep satisfaction in them both, and as they talked Erin saw the lines of strain she’d noticed in her grandfather’s face slowly start to fade. Already he seemed somehow younger.

It must have been so hard for this man to watch his only son migrate to America, she thought. Erin’s dad had had his own hard reasons for moving his family to the United States and Jack knew and approved—but Jack had been left alone too long. Erin’s decision to return was the right decision.

‘What do you want to know about Mike McTavish?’ Jack asked cautiously. He cast a slightly anxious look at Erin. ‘The lad’s engaged to be married, Erin.’

Erin winced as she saw his anxious look. So Jack O’Connell had noticed his granddaughter’s childish crush ten years ago! Oh, dear! If grandpa had noticed, it must have been obvious to everyone.

The only consolation was that it hadn’t been memorable to Mike McTavish. Mike McTavish seemed not even to remember her. Which was just as well...

‘Grandpa, I’m a grown lady now.’ Erin smiled, even though the smile cost her an effort. ‘You can put what I was like when I was fourteen right out of your mind.’

Jack grinned affectionately across at his granddaughter. ‘Well, you sure were stuck on Mike McTavish.’ He hesitated. ‘It did cross my mind...when I had your letter saying you were coming...’ He shook his head. ‘Your parents look like staying in Pittsburgh for a lifetime now. Your mother tells me your dad will never be fit enough to travel. So...what made you come back?’

‘It wasn’t because of Mike McTavish,’ Erin said soundly. She hesitated. ‘Or maybe...’ She met her grandfather’s look, fair and square. ‘Maybe it was, in a way. Because when Mom and Dad sent me out to visit you ten years ago, I had that awful crush.’ She smiled self-consciously. ‘And, I’ll admit, for a while there I dreamed of marrying the man. Fourteen-year-olds are like that. But it started me thinking what it would be like to live here for ever. And somehow...somehow it wouldn’t go away. The feeling that here was home.’

‘Your parents moved away when you were five,’ Jack growled. ‘This is hardly home.’

‘It is,’ Erin insisted. ‘It’s Pittsburgh that’s never seemed home to me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Grandpa, I don’t like the city. You know I’ve spent every minute I can on farms. I did an agricultural course in the States—’

‘In between riding horses.’

‘In between horses,’ she agreed. ‘But I always knew this was where I wanted to be. It’s my dad’s home. And all of us have hated you being here by yourself.’

‘Your parents approved of your coming?’

‘Even Mom.’ Erin smiled. ‘She’s married to an Aussie and she’s resigning herself to having an Aussie daughter.’

‘But your riding...’

‘I can ride here.’

‘Not—’

‘Grandpa, it doesn’t matter.’ Erin reached out and took his hand. ‘I want to live here. It’s my decision.’

‘And...and Mike McTavish had nothing to do with it?’

Erin shook her head and smiled. ‘Honest, Grandpa. It has nothing to do with Mike McTavish.’ Or, at any rate, she acknowledged to herself, not very much.

Jack O’Connell smiled, as if suspecting Erin’s mild deception. His crinkled old eyes saw heaps. They always had. ‘So why are you asking about Mike McTavish then, lass?’ he asked gently. ‘If you haven’t been thinking of him.’

‘Because I’ve already met him again...’

Briefly Erin outlined the events of the afternoon. Jack O’Connell listened in silence and then nodded slowly to himself.

‘I’ll bet Mike McTavish won’t have known about the child’s hair until it was cut,’ he said slowly. ‘Mike’s a good lad. He wouldn’t hurt a child deliberately and it’s local opinion he’s nutty on the twins. No. The haircutting sounds just like Caroline Podger.’

‘Tell me about Caroline.’ Erin nestled down in her ancient chair, contented. Jack O’Connell had always been a man of few words—but one who saw a lot for all his silence. He told no one his troubles but he seemed to know the troubles of everyone else.

Jack shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you much, girl. Only what I’ve heard on the grapevine.’

‘That’ll do me,’ Erin said promptly. ‘I seem to remember you having the best grapevine of anyone I know.’

‘Checky...’ He smiled, his old eyes drinking his granddaughter in.

‘So go on. Tell me.’

‘Caroline Podger...’ Jack nodded. ‘Well, the girl’s family have a big place north of here, I gather. They’re not much liked. Her dad treats his employees like dirt and then whinges round the district because he can’t get good help. Word is, his daughter’s worse than her old man. Rumour is she has a vicious temper, but she keeps it well hidden from those she considers important. Like Mike McTavish.’

‘Have they been engaged long?’ Erin asked, consciously trying to keep her voice sounding uninterested.

Jack threw her a look which said he wasn’t fooled in the least. ‘Three months,’ he told her. He shrugged. ‘Mike’s been on his own since his dad died. His older brother had no taste for farming and moved to Sydney—then got himself and his wife killed. Those two little kiddies landed on Mike’s doorstep the day after.’ He grimaced. ‘That put paid to Mike McTavish’s bachelor existence right there and then.’

‘He...’ Erin bit her lip. How to ask? ‘Mike’s had a few girlfriends?’

‘Well, I’ve heard he likes the ladies, does our Mike.’ Jack grinned. ‘Can’t say I blame him. I did the same once, before I met your grandmother. Still, when your grandma came along I was fair smitten—but Mike seems to have chosen his bride because of her suitability.’

‘Suitability?’

‘They move in the same circles,’ Jack told her. ‘They’ve been an on-again off-again item for years. It always seemed to the district they just used each other as a social convenience between more interesting partners—but suddenly it’s more than that. She’s getting long in the tooth—and he wants a wife.

‘Caroline’s groomed herself well for the job. She’s done a cordon bleu cookery course or some such thing in France. She makes a wonderful hostess and as a social organizer she’s second to none. Mike McTavish lived a pretty messy bachelor existence until the twins. So... he’s made up his mind to marry a lady trained for the job.’ He grimaced. ‘Can’t say I’d like to wake up next to that every morning, though.’

‘But...Grandpa, surely he must...well, he must love her. To ask her to marry him...’

‘Folk say he panicked,’ Jack said slowly. ‘And who’s to blame him—a single man saddled with two grief-stricken six-year-olds out of the blue? Maybe anyone would have panicked in the same circumstances. Grace Brown does housework for him two mornings a week, but she has her own husband and boys and farm to run. Domestic help here is darned hard to find. For Mike McTavish—a lad who doesn’t know one thing about raising kids—our Caroline must have seemed a sensible solution.

‘And maybe she’s just as pragmatic. Word is that her father’s running short on money; she’s not trained for a lot beside social niceties and Mike’s offer must have looked as good to her as it seemed sensible to him.’

‘Ugh.’

Erin shuddered and Jack O’Connell subjected his granddaughter to a long, scrutinizing stare.

‘What the squatocracy do with their lives isn’t our business, though, Erin girl,’ Jack said softly. His gaze grew a little anxious. ‘Now... You did say...you did say you were staying a while?’

‘If you’ll have me.’ Erin hesitated and then took his hand. ‘Your last letter said you’re thinking of selling.’

‘I don’t have a choice,’ her grandpa said roughly. ‘I can’t manage the place on my own any more.’ He looked out over the lush green pastures to the rolling hills beyond. This area of the western district of Victoria, with its rich river plains and scattered red gum trees was arguably one of the most beautiful parts of Australia. ‘It’ll break my heart, though, lass,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t mind admitting it.’

‘Well, that’s why I’m here.’ Erin caught his hand. ‘Grandpa, you know I love this place. You know I always have. I’ve done two years’ agricultural training between my mucking about with horses. I’ve been working part-time as farm hand and horse strapper since I left home. And all I want...’ She took a deep breath. ‘All I want from life is to live here and run this farm for you. For us. What do you say, Grandpa? Could you bear to have me?’

The old man’s eyes filled with tears. He put a hand up to shove them away but more welled up after them.

‘You wouldn’t be bored silly?’ he managed in a choked voice.

‘I promise.’

‘There’s not much social life round here.’

‘I don’t need social life.’

‘But...a girl like you should be going to parties. Enjoying yourself. Meeting young men and getting married.’

Erin shook her head.

‘Not me, Grandpa,’ she said softly. ‘Believe me. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything. Only you and Paddy and this farm.’

‘You’re crazy,’ the old man whispered, a smile wavering out between tears.

‘Crazy or not, if you’ll have me I’m staying.’

Erin slept soundly in the same bed she’d slept in as a teenager. She was woken at dawn by magpies and kookaburras, and when she flung open the window to greet the day she was met by a huge Hereford cow. The creature shoved her nose in and inspected Erin’s pyjamaclad figure with interest.

‘Ugh...’ Laughing and supremely content, Erin shoved the nose back outside. ‘Introductions later, ma’am.’

Still laughing, she showered and dressed fast and made her way outside.

Breakfast took ages. Jack O’Connell was almost absurdly anxious that she’d changed her mind in the night, but was intent, nevertheless, on telling her the worst.

There was a small voice at the back of Erin’s head telling her she wanted to spend the morning visiting the twins—and their uncle—but on that first morning Jack went through the farm figures with her.

Erin blocked the McTavishes from her thoughts and listened with care. This was important. This was her future life. As she went slowly through the books she was never more grateful for her farm management training.

There were things wrong here that needed to be faced, but there was nothing insurmountable. By the end of the morning there was hope in both their faces. Jack and Erin ate a companionable lunch, both immeasurably cheered, and then Jack disappeared for an afternoon nap. Finally Erin let her inner voice hold sway. She went to saddle Paddy.

‘Your first gallop on an Australian farm,’ she said fondly to the horse as she saddled him. ‘I hope you like it, Pad. I think we’re here to stay.’

She should be checking Jack’s stock, she thought as she and Paddy finally rode east across the paddocks towards the McTavishes. From here the Hereford herd looked lazy, well fed and contented, but, by the look of the books, Erin knew there were problems. Grandpa hadn’t got round to drenching this year, and his calving had been a disaster.

There was also the little matter of the hay...

The problems would have to wait. Erin’s inner voice was fair screaming at her now. It was a case of priorities again, she told herself. Laura and Matthew were top of the list.

The fact that she’d see Mike McTavish again had nothing to do with it!

The twins were waiting for her—two small urchins hanging over the gate—and their matching grins as Erin and Paddy appeared over the rise made Erin grin herself. What a difference! This was certainly a change from yesterday.

‘We’ve been waiting and waiting,’ Laura announced importantly. ‘Since crack of dawn!’

‘Crack!’ Erin whistled, impressed. ‘Wow!’

‘Mike says we have to tell him as soon as you arrive—and we asked Mrs Brown to make scones before she went home. All we have to do is stick them in the oven and they’ll take twelve minutes.’ Both children regarded Erin anxiously, as if she might dig her heels into Paddy’s flanks and gallop off. ‘You can stay twelve minutes, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can,’ Erin smiled, dismounting. ‘For fresh scones, I could stay an hour.’

They hardly heard. Their matching whoops of delight filled the yard as both children screamed off towards the house.

‘Uncle Mike...Mike, she’s here. Mike...’

The title seemed to be dropped at will, Erin thought, noting that the children were more accustomed to just plain ‘Mike’ than ‘Uncle Mike’. It seemed a healthy sign. With Aunt Caroline there was no such dropping of the guard.

‘Mike... She’s here, Mike, and she’s brought Paddy.’

The children were pretending to be aeroplanes, Erin figured, watching them swoop their arms and veer from side to side as they ran. Two happy, healthy, normal six-year-olds. The change from yesterday was amazing.

Ten seconds later they reappeared from the house, each towing the unfortunate Mike’s hand. Whatever their uncle had been doing had clearly been deemed unimportant.

Mike was laughing, though. A willing prisoner...

‘Now, you stay and talk to Erin,’ Laura bossed importantly, towing her uncle close and abandoning him. ‘Matthew and I have to fix the scones.’ She hesitated. ‘But you’ll come in and take them out of the oven when we yell, won’t you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Mrs Brown said we weren’t allowed to do that ourselves.’

‘I sure will.’ Mike ruffled Laura’s hair before sending both aeroplanes winging back across the yard: He watched them go with affection and then turned to Erin. The smile Erin knew so well creased his face.

‘Thank you for coming.’ He smiled. ‘The twins were counting on it.’

His smile deepened—and locked. And then faded as if Mike McTavish was suddenly unsure.

‘I...I promised.’

‘So you did.’

There was no sign of Caroline. The relief of not having to face the supercilious woman was making Erin feel light-headed; Mike McTavish had always had the power to make her feel different. Special.

‘Would you like to let Paddy loose to graze? There’s a small paddock behind the sheds.’ With a perceptible effort Mike shifted his gaze to Paddy.

‘No.’ Erin fought to make her voice less breathless. ‘I’ll just hitch him...’

‘You’re not staying long?’

‘Long enough for some scones.’ Still the same stupid breathlessness.

‘Paddy’s a great horse.’

Mike McTavish’s voice seemed almost as constrained as Erin’s. Both of them were focusing their attention on the horse to take off the pressure. Mike ran a hand over Paddy’s gleaming flank. Erin had groomed him for half an hour before saddling him and it showed, his jet-black coat shining like velvet. The farmer stood back and looked at the gleaming thoroughbred, assessing him carefully. ‘He looks...he looks almost as if he could have been a racehorse.’

‘He’s an old steeplechaser,’ Erin told him, her eyes starting to smile again. Any talk of Paddy made her smile. ‘Well—he was a would-be steeplechaser. He moves like the wind in training, but, given a line-up of horses on a track, Paddy stops dead and waits for the others to disappear. He likes the attention all to himself, does my Paddy.’

There was no disguising the affection in Erin’s voice, and Mike looked across at her curiously.

His gaze unsettled her.

Well, if he was assessing Erin as well as Paddy, at least she wasn’t quite as disreputable as yesterday, Erin decided nervously as Mike’s eyes raked her slim body. She was still clad in jeans and T-shirt but her hair was neatly brushed and tied back with a scarf, and she was almost clean.

Almost. She couldn’t be immaculate after spending half an hour grooming a dusty horse.

‘You are American,’ Mike said slowly as he looked at her. ‘Your accent...’

‘It’s not much of one,’ Erin said defensively, and flushed.

‘It’s definitely not Australian.’

‘If I’ve lost my Aussie drawl I’m happy,’ she smiled. ‘But I’d prefer not to sound too broadly American.’

‘I think your speech is a mixture of both.’ Mike grinned. ‘I wouldn’t worry. It’s attractive...’

Oh, great. Erin had come a long way, then. Fourteen years ago she’d been nothing but a gawky kid. Now at least she had an attractive accent!

‘I’ve been trying to figure you out.’ Mike took Paddy’s reins from her and led him over to the trough beside the verandah. This place was well set up for horses. ‘Erin O’Connell... I didn’t think Jack had any relatives in the country.’

‘He has me.’ Her voice sounded a bit breathless.

‘He hasn’t seen much of you,’ Mike said slowly. ‘He’s been pretty neglected these last few years.’

There was an edge of criticism in his tone and Erin flushed.

‘I would have come before,’ she said softly, not meeting his eye. ‘But it wasn’t possible.’

‘You must be Jack’s son’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought I recognized you,’ he said slowly. ‘Jack’s son left for America almost twenty years ago and Jack never talks about him. But you...you came back to visit when you were a kid...’

‘That’s right.’

‘I vaguely remember. But that was just you.’ Mike’s brow was still creased in thought. ‘It hasn’t been possible for your father to visit?’ There was no mistaking the implied criticism now, and Erin found her temper rising to match his tone.

‘No.’

‘Money’s a problem, then, is it?’

Whew... Erin took a hasty step back. Michael McTavish’s tone had been sardonic, and Erin’s temper moved from simmering to hiss of steam. If he knew the real reason...

She was darned if she’d tell him. Sympathy was one thing she didn’t want from this man.

‘Our family’s finances are none of your business, Mike McTavish...’ She took a deep breath, searching for control. ‘But you shouldn’t have to ask. I’d imagine you can guess. Tramps don’t earn enough to fund overseas travel.’

‘Ouch!’

Mike blinked at the flaming virago before him and his eyes slowly crinkled into a lazy, self deprecating smile. ‘Touché, Miss O’Connell.’ The sarcasm in his voice disappeared and his smile deepened. ‘I guess, despite your neglect of your grandpa, I do owe you an apology for yesterday. Caroline was overwrought. She’d been very worried.’

‘I could see that,’ Erin agreed, her temper still simmering. ‘Out scouring paddocks with you, was she? Or sitting by the phone, frantic with anxiety?’

It was Mike’s turn to glower then. The easy smile slipped.

‘You’ve a sharp tongue.’

‘It’s my bad upbringing,’ Erin said softly. ‘I didn’t go to the right schools.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake...’ Mike spread his hands. He sighed. ‘Look, Miss O’Connell, can we call a truce? It’s too nice a day for World War Three and the twins are cooking scones. Come on into the house and we’ll see how they’re going.’

‘Do you have a tradesman’s entrance?’ Erin muttered, and Mike’s expression of exasperation deepened.

‘Miss O’Connell...’

‘Sir!’

‘Erin, shut up!’

She glowered some more, but couldn’t quite maintain it. Her eyes peeped up at him and a twinkle lurked in their clear green depths.

He saw it.

‘You’re laughing at me,’ he said slowly.

‘Me? Laugh at you?’ Erin tugged an imaginary forelock. ‘Oh, please, sir, no, sir. I never could, sir. Not in a million years. I know my place, sir.’

‘Erin?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘If you don’t shut up and come and eat some scones, your place will be at the bottom of the duck pond. I believe that was the remedy for harping women in times when the lower order knew their place.’

‘The ducking stool or nothing.’ She grinned. ‘But it will have been worth it. To harp or not to harp...’ She was feeling light-headed and silly and it showed. It was a glorious day. She was finally where she wanted to be— in Australia again after all these years. The horrid Caroline was nowhere to be seen and all seemed right with her world.

‘You’re nuts, Erin O’Connell,’ Mike McTavish said slowly, staring down at her with the beginnings of laughter in his eyes.

‘You’ve only just noticed that?’ Erin smiled up at him. ‘Well, Mr McTavish...sir...’ She bobbed a mock curtsey. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!’

What followed was a very happy half-hour. Mike and Erin’s conversation degenerated into silliness and the twins joined in with relish.

‘Now, best manners, please, you lot,’ Mike ordered as he and Erin entered the kitchen. ‘You know how Australia and England and Canada all have the same Queen?’

‘Yes?’ Both twins gazed at their uncle, bemused.

‘Well, this lady’s from America.’ Mike grinned. ‘And the Americans were so rude about paying for some tea a long time ago that the Queen didn’t want them any more. So...it’s up to us to teach her manners—show her we’re brought up properly in the Antipodes.’

The twins glanced nervously from Erin to Mike—and slowly relaxed. They didn’t understand what Mike was talking about but they could sense laughter in their big uncle and they were all too ready to join in.

The twins and the unknown Mrs Brown had excelled themselves. The scones were light, fluffy and delicious. There was a vast bowl of farm cream to go with them and strawberry jam tasting of strawberries straight from the garden.

‘Mrs Brown made strawberry jam last Monday,’ Laura told Erin importantly, helping herself to a fourth scone. ‘We helped.’

‘I hope you stayed clean all the time,’ Erin smiled. Then she caught herself. It was okay to mock Mike McTavish—but not the children. To her delight, though, Laura giggled.

‘We didn’t,’ Laura admitted. ‘Mrs Brown said we looked like two Indian warriors in war paint after we’d finished. She tossed us into the bath, clothes and all.’

Erin smiled back and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added another question.

‘Doesn’t Caroline come on Mondays either?’

Silence.

Matthew slowly shook his head and both children stared down at their plates.

Then, as one, the twins pushed back their plates and rose.

‘We’ll meet you outside,’ Laura said. ‘We’ll go and pat Paddy.’

The message was plain: if you intend to speak about Caroline, we’re off.

The door slammed behind them and Erin slowly turned back to Mike.

‘I’m sorry...’

His laughter had faded as well.

‘I’ll thank you not to do that,’ he said savagely. ‘Criticizing Caroline in front of the children...’

‘I hardly criticized her,’ Erin muttered. ‘I only asked if she came on Mondays.’

‘You know exactly what you did.’

‘Yes.’ Erin stood up, gathering plates and carrying them across to the sink. This man wasn’t her social better, even though he had more money. He wasn’t even twenty years old any more, to her gawky fourteen years. She owed him nothing—and it was time he heard the truth. She turned back to face him, leaning against the bench with the table between them. ‘I know what I did. I inferred the twins don’t have fun when Caroline’s around. But it’s true, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Erin shrugged. ‘They seem scared stiff of her if you ask me.’

‘Only because she disciplines them,’ Mike said slowly. ‘With me...with me they run wild. Laura especially. Matt just goes silent—sometimes for days on end—and I worry about him. I can’t seem to get through to the kid.’

He spread his hands. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it is, Miss O’Connell, to be thrown in at the deep end as parent to two grief stricken six-year-olds? You’ve no idea, have you? I had to fly up to Sydney and collect them from their babysitter the night their parents were killed. I was at a bucks’ party when the call came. To be catapulted like that...’

He sighed and spread his hands. ‘Look, I’m doing my best, but I’m not a parent. Caroline takes on that role and I’m grateful to her. She makes sure they’re respectable and well disciplined and...and safe, and I’d be mad if I sat here and let you criticize her. We’re both doing what we can in a very difficult situation, Miss O’Connell, and your interference isn’t helping one bit.’

‘So I should have left them on the road yesterday? I should have driven right on?’

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’

‘It is what you mean in a sense,’ Erin said slowly. ‘You’re saying I should butt out of what’s not my business, and if I’d done that then I would have driven on yesterday instead of stopping.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s not in my nature to drive on through,’ she said softly. ‘I just can’t.’

‘It might not be in your nature but it’s in your blood,’ Mike said harshly. ‘Your family left your grandfather twenty years ago, and as far as I know there’s only been the one visit since.’

Erin’s chin tilted. ‘That’s right.’ She met his look. ‘I was sent out from America at fourteen.’

‘I do vaguely remember you,’ he admitted. ‘All steel braces and freckles.’ He smiled. ‘The freckles haven’t changed.’ Then he looked at her a little more searchingly. ‘If you’re the kid I remember—I thought of you as a loner. An unhappy, solitary sort of kid. Are you an only child?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your parents sent you out by yourself.’ He grimaced. ‘It can’t have been much fun.’

‘You’re judging my father, aren’t you?’ Erin said softly. ‘You have him all summed up. A man who leaves his father and goes halfway round the world without a backward glance. A man who sends his teenage daughter overseas on her own as a sop to his conscience—once and never again.’

‘Look, there may be reasons I don’t know...’

‘There are,’ Erin said dully. ‘If you’d asked my grandfather, then maybe you would have found out.’

‘Your grandfather doesn’t talk of his family,’ Mike told her. ‘We’ve been neighbours for a long time—but when I ask about his family he clams up. He’s been so darned lonely, though. He’s been just plain miserable for the past couple of years as his health has failed, and there’s pain comes into his eyes whenever anyone asks about his family. I can sense how much he misses family, and maybe that’s why I’m sounding so judgemental.’

‘You’ve no right...’

‘Well, if you don’t want me judging, then maybe you should answer some questions.’ Mike’s dark eyes didn’t leave Erin’s face. ‘Why no contact for so long and then, a month or so after Jack broaches the idea of selling the farm, why the sudden family interest after all these years?’

Erin stared. The dark eyes were challenging hers—and she could see clearly what was behind the question.

Somehow she made herself speak. It took more strength than she knew she possessed.

‘I guess...I guess I see what you’re thinking,’ Erin managed finally, her voice trembling. She walked forward and placed her hands on the table, her eyes huge in her white face. ‘You think I’ve been sent over to get what I can for us. Is that what you think?’

‘It’s the obvious conclusion,’ Mike agreed calmly. ‘The local land agent told me Jack was thinking of selling because he knew I’d be interested in buying if the farm is sold. Then suddenly we have family interest. A lonely old man suddenly has family after twenty long years.’

‘A lonely old man suddenly has me,’ Erin whispered.

Erin could hardly think. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of impressions—and the overriding feeling was pain. This man was judging people she loved. Judging her father...

All these years the locals here had been thinking her father was a heartless, uncaring emigrant.

She wondered vaguely if her father knew what was thought of him in the place he still regarded as home. How it would hurt if he guessed! Her father loved this place more than she did.

‘Erin...’ Mike rose from his chair. The colour had bleached completely from Erin’s face and he could see the pain washing through her eyes. He’d be a fool if he couldn’t see it—and if there was one thing Mike McTavish wasn’t it was a fool.

He moved swiftly behind her and his hands dropped to her shoulders. ‘Erin, don’t look like that. You can’t help what your father is.’

The touch of his hands burned through the light fabric of Erin’s shirt. She wanted comfort so much. She wanted this man’s arms around her so much it was a physical ache. Yet here he was hurting her—hurting those she loved. What she felt in her heart was so far from common sense that Erin felt herself almost torn in two. She pulled away in real distress.

‘Don’t you touch me,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t...’

‘I only...’

‘You only thought you’d comfort me,’ she managed, and then caught herself. Comfort her? Mike McTavish had done that once before and ten years of heartache had ensued. Well, she wasn’t taking any comfort from him now.

‘I don’t need your comfort,’ she said bleakly. ‘I don’t need anything you have on offer, Mike McTavish, and my father sure as heck doesn’t need your good opinion. My father was brought up next door to you—he’s told me he and your father were good friends—and yet after we arrived in Pittsburgh all my father’s letters to yours went unanswered. He wondered why. And now I know. It was vicious, idle gossip and judgement. Judging things you know nothing about. Well, you and all the people in this nosy, judgemental district can take a long hike for all I care. There’s only my grandfather that matters.’

And, to her horror, she felt tears welling up and threatening to fall.

Erin blinked—and blinked again. And then she sniffed.

She was darned if she was going to cry before this man. No way!

She didn’t cry. She never cried!

She wiped the threatening tears angrily away with one hand while fending off Mike McTavish’s comfort with the other. A hand went down to her jeans pocket, searching for a tissue—and found nothing.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she whispered again.

‘I won’t.’

Mike had seen the searching hand, though. Without comment, he handed her a large, man’s handkerchief and then stood back watching—as one would watch a strange, unknown creature one didn’t know how the heck to deal with.

Erin accepted the handkerchief with real gratitude. She blew her nose hard and glared—and, to her disgust, found Mike McTavish was smiling.

‘A good blow always makes you feel better.’ Then, as Erin looked helplessly down at the handkerchief, his grin deepened.

‘You seem to accuse me of being landed gentry,’ he smiled. ‘Well, here’s a gesture for you. Keep the handkerchief. I can afford it!’

‘Th—thanks,’ she whispered, her anger disappearing and an awful grimness seeping in. She’d exposed herself with this man—and she didn’t like it one bit.

As always, when feeling her worst, Erin sought for laughter. She looked down at the damp handkerchief.

‘Are you sure you want me to keep it?’ she managed. ‘There’s three perfectly good quarters left.’

‘I’m absolutely sure.’ Mike’s smile was one of pure admiration.

Erin’s watery smile faded. If only he didn’t make her feel so...so... So like being fourteen years old all over again!

‘I’m...I’m going home now,’ she whispered. ‘Tell the twins...tell the twins they’re welcome to visit me. If they cut across the paddocks it’s a safe walk to my grandpa’s farm—but I won’t be coming back here.’

Mike nodded, as if her statement had been expected. ‘I’ll tell them.’

‘You will let them come?’ Erin found herself suddenly anxious. ‘You will let them visit?’

‘The twins can visit whoever they like,’ Mike said calmly. ‘And I’m sure they’d love to see you again.’

Implying that Mike McTavish wouldn’t, Erin thought bleakly. Erin could hear that decision clearly in his voice.

‘Fine.’ Erin practised her glare one last time, even if her glare was still watery. Mike’s dark eyes were watching her calmly now, unsmiling. ‘I’ll go...’

She turned to the door but the door was flung open before she reached it.

‘Mike...Erin, come quick...’ It was Laura, white faced with terror, bursting through the door and almost falling with the force of her entry. ‘Erin, Matthew’s on Paddy and Paddy took off down the paddock so fast I can’t catch him. And he’s taking Matthew away...’