Grady visualised Sasha holding her baby, crooning sweet nothings, placing delicate kisses on her forehead. She’d throw herself full on into motherhood, as she’d always done with anything. That baby she carried didn’t know yet how lucky she was to have Sasha for a mum. If he ever had kids, their mother would have to be just like her.
Just like her? Or her?
His hand clenched, banged down on the desk. His mouth dried. Yeah, sure, Sasha having his kids? After the way he’d treated her?
‘Knock, knock. Are you all right?’ Roz appeared in his line of vision, a worried look on her face.
Forcing a smile, he leaned back in the chair. ‘Absolutely.’
‘I just wanted to say thanks for stepping in for Mike. He’s been putting in some long hours lately and getting quite exhausted. Last night didn’t help.’ Roz parked her backside on the corner of the desk.
‘You’re welcome. I didn’t feel very excited about painting this morning anyway.’ He’d taken one look at the boring off-white colour and banged the lid back on the tin. That house needed vibrant colours to bring it alive again. It needed people. Laughter echoing in the rooms. Music playing in the background. Which was why he was selling it, remember?
‘Where have you gone?’ Roz knocked on the desktop.
‘Sorry. I’m happy to help you and Mike out further if either of you need a break.’
Roz grinned like she’d got something she wanted. ‘We’ll take you up on that.’ Her finger scratched at the desktop. ‘Having you here won’t be a problem for Sasha? I didn’t realise until Mike said something about it this morning that you two had history.’
‘No.’ He hoped not. ‘It’s very old history. We met when I used to come over here for summer holidays but until last night I hadn’t seen her since the year she left school and Golden Bay. My family never came back here after that summer either.’ Too many memories of Dad for all of them to cope with. And, for him, memories of Sash.
Roz stood and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Can I ask you something? Just in case she annoys you or does something irritating? Can you go easy on her? There are a lot of things going on in her life at the moment and she’s very fragile.’
‘Sure.’ Sash fragile? She’d always been strong. He stared at Roz, hoping for an explanation, but the woman was heading for the door.
One of us doesn’t know Sash very well. Was that Roz? Or was it him? Did this explain the need to hug and protect Sasha he’d felt last night? And again this morning when he’d knocked on her door and found her in a dishevelled state? It was a gut-level feeling that gripped him whenever she came close. A feeling he’d never had for her before.
Earlier, when he’d heard Sash ask Jessica about her coping skills, he’d wanted to rush in and yell, ‘Yes, of course you’ll do a fantastic job.’ He’d wanted to hug her tight to keep those fears at bay. As if she’d listen to him. But she’d sounded so frightened. Alone, even, despite the midwife being there for her. He’d be the last person Sasha would want overhearing that short conversation, let alone offering comfort.
Anyway, what did he know about raising a child? Grady could hear the distain colouring her voice now. She’d really get stuck into him. And he’d had enough of that from her last night. Even if he had deserved it.
‘Got a moment, Grady?’ Sasha appeared in the doorway.
This office was busier than a bus station. ‘Got a problem?’ he asked.
Her green gaze cruised over him while her mouth lifted and dropped as though she hadn’t made up her mind how to treat him.
‘Go for friendly.’ He smiled broadly, practising what he preached.
She blinked, squinted at him. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly. ‘Is there any other way?’ But her return smile was kind of sad.
‘You wanted me?’ Or a doctor?
‘Can you take a look at Mrs Collins for me? She came in to have stitches removed from a gash in her left calf muscle. Apparently she had an accident while chopping wood last week. The wound is inflamed and oozing. She needs a new prescription for antibiotics.’
So Sasha wanted a doctor, not him. Get used to it. She was setting the tone for the rest of his time here.
Didn’t mean he had to take any notice, did it?
*
The stars were beginning to show by the time Sasha turned into the orchard’s drive and headed for the packing shed. She ached with exhaustion. It had been a long, hard day following a long, hard night. Her last patient, nearly an hour away out past Collingwood, had been in need of some TLC more than anything medical. She’d changed a dressing and drunk milky tea and eaten week-old lemon cake.
Ruth Cornwell lived in the falling-down house she’d been born in seventy-nine years ago, and no one would be getting her out of there unless it was in a box. Ruth’s words, which Sasha had heard on numerous occasions, today being no exception. A tough old lady, she was now very lonely after falling out with most of her neighbours over the years. But suggest she move into a rest home? You’d better be able to run fast.
‘Okay, Flipper, let’s get those lemons loaded. Then we can take them to the carrier’s yard before heading home for a hot shower and dinner.’
Dinner. Her shoulders slumped. She hadn’t been to the supermarket, and her cupboard was bare. A yawn dragged her mouth wide. If it weren’t for Flipper she’d head home, eat the last yoghurt and fall into bed. But she shouldn’t be doing that. Bad mummy practice.
Just inside the shed door she patted the wall, found the light switches and filled the space with light. And gaped. Where were all those cartons Mum had presumably packed over the weekend? They should be stacked by the bench for Sam Donovan to pick up. Mum had better not have taken them to the yard. She’d been warned time after time by Mike and her and Dad: do not lift those full boxes. ‘Mum, I love you to bits, but you are so in trouble right now.’
The gravel on the driveway crunched and headlights swung across the yard. Mum’s ute turned into the carport at the side of the shed.
‘Right, Mum, we’re about to have a talk.’ Switching on the outside lights, Sasha stomped outside and followed the side of the shed to the carport. But even as her mouth opened she was hauling on the brakes to halt her words.
Grady was locking the ute’s door. He had a laden grocery bag swinging from one hand. He’d also changed in to butt-hugging jeans and a thick, woollen outdoors shirt with a roll-collar jersey underneath. Drop-dead gorgeous. Except Sasha felt she might be the one to drop dead with the need unfurling deep inside her. Her swallow was audible in the quiet night.
‘Hey, Sasha. I heard you were going to be late back so I dropped those cases off at the depot. Hope that’s okay?’
As he approached, the need to lean into him and let him take over for an hour or two nearly floored her. Click, click, her back straightened with difficulty. ‘Sure. Thank you.’ Try again, Sasha. That was feeble. ‘I mean it, Grady. I am grateful. I hadn’t been looking forward to loading up and going back into town.’
‘I’m not surprised. Whenever I’ve seen you today you’ve looked shattered. Not enough sleep last night, huh?’
‘That and a big weekend.’ Maybe that yoghurt would have to do tonight. Unless she raided Mum’s pantry before going home.
‘You still like pasta?’ Grady seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
‘I love it. Especially spaghetti carbonara.’ That yoghurt seemed very unappetising now.
His hand delved into the bag, brought out a package. ‘With bacon?’
Her mouth watered as she nodded.
‘And cream?’
‘If you’re teasing me, Grady O’Neil, you’d better start running for the hills.’ What was he up to? They’d managed to keep their distance all morning at the medical centre, acting polite and friendly in an aloof kind of way.
‘I’m scrounging a ride home. Again. I’ll cook you dinner.’
She swallowed, blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. ‘Your house is five hundre
d metres from here. Oh…’ She lightly slapped her forehead. ‘It’s dark and cold. Of course. Hop in and I’ll run you home before the bogeyman comes up from the beach.’
Grady’s laugh filled the chilly night air and lifted her heavy heart. For the first time all day she didn’t feel held down with fear and need and the sense that time was running out. She also didn’t feel that she should be avoiding Grady. Why she felt any of those things she had no idea. It was as though something was lurking on the periphery of her mind, worrying at her like a dog with its bone. But right now, here in her parents’ yard, in the dark of nightfall and the cold of midwinter, she felt warm and safe. Felt she could cope with everything again. Why? She had no idea and wouldn’t even try to find out.