Mctavish And Twins

‘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...’

CHAPTER FOUR

PADDY and Matthew were well away.

Mike and Erin burst through the back door as one—to find the yard empty. Paddy had been hitched to the trough. There was no Paddy and no Matthew.

‘Where...?’ Mike gazed round, fast. There was no sign of boy or horse.

‘Paddy wanted something to eat,’ Laura faltered. ‘At least, we thought he did. So me and Matt took him over into the wheat paddock—just to give him a taste...’

‘The wheat paddock...’ Mike was already starting to run, his big hand gripping Laura’s. Erin ran too, unsure of where they were going but darned if she was being left behind. ‘Laura, you did say Matt was on the horse?’ Mike demanded. They were halfway across the yard, Laura being half carried by the speed of Mike’s run.