Annie O'Neil – Australian Affairs: Wed: Second Chance with Her Soldier / The Firefighter to Heal Her Heart / Wedding at Sunday Creek (страница 9)

‘Will you mind—’ Ellie began, but then she swallowed and looked away. ‘Will it bother you that you won’t see much of Jacko?’

Joe inhaled a sharp, instinctively protective breath. He was trying really hard not to think too much about his son, about all the milestones he’d already missed and those he would miss in the future—the day-to-day adventure of watching a small human being come to terms with the world. ‘Maybe I’ll be more use to him later on, when he’s older.’

It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

Ellie’s jaw jutted. She looked tenser than ever. Awkward seconds ticked by. Joe wished he didn’t have to try so damn hard, even now, after they’d broken up.

‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t asked how you are now. Are you keeping well?’

‘I am well, actually. I think having Jacko has made a big difference, both mentally and physically. I must admit I’m a lot calmer these days. And I think all the hard outdoor work here has paid off as well.’ She touched her stomach. ‘Internally, things...um...seem to have settled down.’

‘That’s fantastic.’ He knew how she’d suffered and he was genuinely pleased for her. ‘So, do you have plans?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Are you planning to move on from here?’ Joe steeled himself. If there was a new man in her life, this was her chance to say so.

But her jaw dropped so hard Joe almost heard it crack.

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘Not at all.’

‘You really think I could willingly leave Karinya?’

‘Well, it’s got to be tough for you out here on your own. You need help.’

‘I hire help if I need it—fencing contractors, ringers, jillaroos...’

The relief he felt was ridiculous. He covered it with a casual shrug. ‘I’ve heard it’s hard to find workers these days. Everyone’s heading for the mines.’

‘I’ve managed.’

Joe couldn’t resist prying. ‘I suppose you might have a boyfriend lined up already?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’ Ellie was angry now.

And, although he knew it was foolish, he couldn’t help having one last dig. ‘I thought your mother might have had a victory. What was the name of that guy she picked out for you? The potato farmer near Hay? Orlando?’

‘Roland,’ Ellie said tightly. ‘And he grows all sorts of vegetables—lettuce, pumpkins, tomatoes, corn—much more than potatoes. He’s making a fortune, apparently.’

‘Quite a catch,’ Joe said, more coldly than he’d meant to.

‘Yes, and a gentleman, too.’ Ellie narrowed her eyes at Joe. ‘Do you really want me to give up this lease? Are you worried about the money?’

‘No,’ he snapped tersely. He couldn’t deny he was impressed by Ellie’s tenacity, even if it suggested that she was prepared to work much harder at the cattle business than she had at their marriage. ‘I just think it’s too big a property for a woman to run on her own, especially for a woman with a small child to care for as well.’

‘Nina will be back after Christmas. She’s great with Jacko.’

Joe recognised a brick wall when he ran into it and he let the subject drop. He suspected Ellie was as relieved as he was when the meal was finally over.

* * *

With the aid of night vision goggles, Joe made his way through a remote Afghan village, moving with the stealth of a panther on the prowl. In every dark alley and around every corner the threat of danger lurked and Joe was on high alert, listening for the slightest movement or sound.

As forward scout, his responsibilities weighed heavily. Five Australian soldiers depended on his skills, trusting that he wouldn’t lead them blindly into an ambush.

As he edged around another corner, a sudden crash shattered the silence. Joe’s night vision vanished. He was plunged into darkness.

Adrenaline exploded in his vitals. How had he lost his goggles? Or—hell—had worse happened? Had he been blinded?

He couldn’t even find his damn rifle.

To add to the confusion, a persistent drumming sounded above and around him.

What the hell had happened?

Even more bizarrely, when Joe stepped forward he felt carpet beneath his feet. His bare feet. What was going on? Where was he?

Panic flared. Had he gone raving mad? Where were his boots? His weapon?

Totally disoriented, he blinked, and at last his vision cleared slightly. He could just make out the dimmest of details, and he seemed to be naked apart from boxer shorts and, yes, his feet were bare and they were definitely sinking into soft carpet.

He had absolutely no idea where the hell he was, or how he’d got there.

Then he heard a small child’s cry and his stomach lurched. As a Commando, in close contact with the enemy, his greatest fear was that he might inadvertently bring harm to Afghan children.

It was still difficult to see as he made his way through the pitch-black night, moving towards the child’s cry, bumping into a bookcase.

A bookcase?

A doorway.

Ahead, down a passage, he saw a faint glow—it illuminated painted tongue-and-groove timber walls. Walls that were strangely familiar.

Karinya.

Hell, yeah. Of course.

A soft oath broke from him. He’d woken from a particularly vivid dream and he was back in North Queensland and, while he couldn’t explain the crashing sound, the crying child was...

Jacko.

His son.

Joe’s heart skidded as he scorched into Jacko’s room. In the glow of a night light, he saw the toddler huddled and frightened on the floor in the wreckage of his cot. Without hesitation, Joe dived and swept the boy into his arms.

Jacko was shaking but, in Joe’s arms, he nestled against his bare chest, a warm ball sobbing, seeking protection and clearly trusting Joe to provide it.

‘Shh.’ Joe pressed his lips to the boy’s soft hair and caught the amazing smell of shampoo, probably baby shampoo. ‘You’re OK. I’ve got you.’

I’m your father.

The boy felt so little and warm in Joe’s arms. And so scared. A fierce wave of emotion came sweeping through Joe—a surge of painful yearning—an urge to protect this warm, precious miniature man, to keep him safe at all costs.

‘I’ve got you, little mate,’ he murmured. ‘You’re OK.’ And then he added in a soft, tentative whisper, ‘I’m your dad. I love you, Jacko.’ The words felt both alien and wonderful. And true.

‘What happened?’ Ellie’s voice demanded from the doorway. ‘I heard a crash.’

Joe turned and saw her in the dimmed light, wearing a white nightdress with tiny straps, her dark hair tumbling in soft waves about her smooth, bare shoulders. She looked beautiful beyond words and Joe’s heart almost stopped.

‘What happened?’ she asked again, coming forward. ‘Is Jacko all right?’

‘I think he’s fine, but he got a bad fright. Looks like his cot’s collapsed.’

Jacko had seen Ellie now and he lurched away from Joe, throwing out his arms and wailing, ‘Mummy!’

Joe tried not to mind that his Great Three Seconds of Fatherhood were over in a blink, or that Jacko, now safely in Ellie’s arms, looked back at him as if he were a stranger.

Ellie was staring at Joe too—staring with wide, almost popping eyes at his bare chest and at the scars on his shoulder. Joe hoped her gaze wouldn’t drop to his shorts or they’d both be embarrassed.

Abruptly, he turned, forcing his attention to the collapsed cot. It was a simple timber construction with panels of railings threaded on a metal rod and screwed into place with wing nuts. Nothing had actually broken. It seemed the thing had simply come apart.

‘Looks like the wing nuts in the corners worked loose,’ he said.

‘Oh, Lord.’ Ellie stepped forward with the boy on her hip. ‘Jacko was playing with those wing nuts the other day. He was trying to undo them, but I didn’t think he had a hope.’

‘Well, I’d say he was successful. He must have strong little fingers.’