To Love and To Cherish

CHAPTER TWO

‘WE’RE almost done. There are only about fifty goats still out there in the waiting room.’

It was early morning. Jack made his observation as he rounded the corner of one row of the milking parlour and told himself things were working out just as he wanted. Better, in fact. Ron’s accident was unfortunate, and he really felt for Tiffany’s worker, but Jack hadn’t expected to have a chance to spend so much quality time with Tiffany—and that, in and of itself, was a good thing.

Once they both began to relax into that time it would be really beneficial to their friendship.

He was here for that reason and nothing else. Last night had been uneasy, but that was to be expected. He’d kept the conversation on simple, uncomplicated topics—friendly topics. And if Tiff hadn’t seemed entirely happy with that state of affairs—well, she would come to realise it was best.

Jack would make sure of that. Because he wanted his visit here to work out. He wanted her back in his life the way she had been before. Jack wanted that much of Tiffany more than he could let himself acknowledge, and he would have it.

There was no need to delve into aspects of the past that had no bearing now. The wrong path he’d started on with Tiffany before he went away. The Samuel factor. The other challenges Jack had faced in recent months. Jack had all of that stuff sorted.

He had missed Tiffany a lot. But as a friend, nothing more.

Right.

A snarl formed on his face, and he forced it away. The travelling yesterday must have frustrated him, or something. That was all.

‘One more milking cycle will take care of it, then.’ Tiffany rounded the corner from the opposite direction, and pulled up a millimetre short of stepping right into his arms.

Jack sucked in his breath and stepped abruptly backwards to avoid that direct contact. He resisted the urge to check that his thick shirt was correctly in place, and ran his fingers over his hair instead. ‘I guess you didn’t realise I was so close.’

‘No. Sound distorts in here sometimes. I thought you were further away—in the next row.’ Her pointy chin rose to a defensive angle. She stepped away and checked the flow of milk through the tubing that ran along the row. ‘Actually, we won’t be entirely finished with the milking when we’re done here.’

She paused to tuck her overalls more firmly into her gumboots. Her T-shirt today was lemon, with tiny flowers designed onto it, her overalls a soft, mellow green. She wore no hat, and her hair looked soft and inviting where it sprang out from its loose ponytail. He had teased her yesterday, but in truth Tiffany was way too attractive—no matter what she dressed in.

Tiffany pulled a wry face. ‘Amalthea avoided the milk shed again today, so it looks like I get to hand-milk her again.’

Jack drew his gaze away from the soft curvature of her arms, the halo of her hair. It shouldn’t have been difficult to do so. ‘You should have told me that goat was missing. I would have searched her out for you.’

The words were harsh, almost a growl. He clamped his mouth shut before anything else could come out, turned away, and tried to soften his tone to something a bit more normal. ‘I’ll help you find her later, if you like.’

‘That’s okay. I saw her hidden behind some hay bales in the south paddock. I doubt she will have moved.’ Tiffany gave him a puzzled look and turned away. ‘I’ll get a bucket and take care of business later.’

They worked in silence for a few moments. The routine never changed. Check, regulate, ensure all the goats took the supplement, that they all appeared bright and in good health. This was good. Relaxed, normal.

Jack tried for some chitchat to cement that effect. ‘How are your wildlife photos coming along? I noticed you’ve added quite a bit of material to your website.’

‘Did you visit it while you were away? You e-mailed so irregularly I didn’t think…’ She trailed off and looked away.

Yes, Tiff. I visited the website almost every day. It gave me a connection, and I needed it. Even when I remained out of contact with you.

‘I dropped by now and then. I liked the one of the goanna up on its hind legs, running up the middle of a dirt road.’

‘Thanks. It was one of those lucky shots. I was toying with colour contrasts and a new zoom lens, caught movement, and realised the goanna was running towards me from a distance.’

Dust motes danced in beams of sunshine above her and his body tightened with an unwelcome interest.

Regret shifted inside him, and Jack battened it down. He had to look forward, not back. It was the only way to salvage anything. He pushed a smile to his face. ‘It’s my guess you got out of the goanna’s way before it got too close?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She laughed. ‘There’s no shame in the judicious use of long-range photographic equipment.’ Tiffany’s laughter faded, but her expression remained warm, vulnerable. ‘I got that shot on one of the treks Jan and I made last month.’

‘Your watercolour friend from Sydney?’ His heart soaked up the sound of her laughter.

‘Yes. Jan got into her art about the same time I took up photography. She’s fun to be around.’

As they finished up in the shed, Tiffany told him a little more about her most recent photography expeditions.

As she talked, they both began to relax. Jack didn’t realise how much until they stepped outside into the morning light and stood side by side at the sink to wash up.

Then Tiffany’s chatter died away. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and her shoulders drew up into a tight line. All the ease left her. ‘Jack—about that last night before you went away. And the days that led up to it. I need to tell you I truly thought—’

‘You don’t need to say anything. It was just a mistake, and it’s finished with now.’ He didn’t look at her as he scrubbed up. The mistake was that he had allowed things to get so far in the first place, but he couldn’t say that.

It wasn’t a case of avoiding the issue, either. Jack understood all his issues perfectly well. He didn’t have to burden Tiffany with the knowledge of them, though.

‘Where did you and Jan go camping? Anywhere special?’ Talk about those things, Tiffany. Tell me how you spent your time while I was away. He wanted to hear of positive things, upbeat things, to counterbalance his memories of struggle and difficulty.

She glared at him for a moment as she scrubbed up. Then she dried her hands and started towards the dairy building. ‘What is special if it’s not Australian bush land?’

In the paddocks around them goats bleated, drank water from the troughs and climbed anything not at ground level.

It was a natural scene, restful and calm, yet the air between them crackled with tension.

‘My favourite trip recently was to Warrabah National Park.’ She bit the words out as she stomped along. ‘I got some good river-life shots there.’

‘Great. That’s great.’ He realised he had moved too close to her side, and stepped sideways a bit.

The look she cast his way held frustration, but he just gestured towards the dairy.

‘I’m no use to you in there.’ The dairy was the one part of the farm Jack knew little about. ‘How about if I load the truck for the next hay feed out?’ He wasn’t choosing to avoid her company. That would be pointless when he had come here expressly to seek it out.

He had irritated her, but maybe with some breathing space he would figure out how to keep her away from the topic of the past. He wanted to forget the last months, and that wasn’t denial!

Tiffany blew a curl off her forehead, sighed, and turned away. ‘That would be fine. Thank you for your help. I’ll be busy here for two hours or more. You could also check the water troughs. And when you hear the truck arrive to collect the cheeses, would you come back to help load them? Mum prefers to have someone supervise each pick-up. That way I won’t have to stop work.’

‘No problem. I’ll see to it when they arrive.’ Jack strode away and attacked the hay bales. Throwing them onto the truck felt good, but only because it exercised his muscles in a satisfying way. He wasn’t fed up. Nor did he feel in any way out of control or uptight or concerned that his plan to simply ease back into his friendship with Tiffany was perhaps not going to be as easy as he had hoped.

Jack attended to a half-dozen chores that included the cheese collection. When he and Tiffany joined up again it was almost lunchtime.

Tiff walked ahead of him to her cottage. Her bottom swayed beneath the green overalls. His gaze followed that gentle motion before his brain could catch up and remind him of the folly of doing so.

But it didn’t have to mean anything. It could be just a typical male response. She looked highly attractive, that was all.

In baggy overalls that barely reveal her shape? Admit it—your memory and imagination are filling in the blanks. You’re fantasising about her bottom.

Those thoughts were not welcome, either!

‘What would you like?’ Tiffany pushed the kitchen door open and paused to look over her shoulder at him.

Jack stopped his movement and whipped his gaze to her face. Heat stung the back of his neck and he couldn’t look her in the eyes. ‘Nothing. Pardon me? I wasn’t thinking—’

‘For lunch.’ Small, capable fingers splayed over the doorframe. Hazel eyes bored into his. ‘Would you like sandwiches? Eggs on toast? Soup?’

‘Right. Lunch.’ He forced himself forward again. ‘Any of those would be fine. Let me wash up, and I’ll help you get the meal ready.’ He would do that whilst ignoring any memories or thoughts or anything else. She needed his help. He wanted her friendship back. That was the sum total of where the next ten days needed to take them.

They took turns to clean up in the laundry room. When he stepped into the kitchen to join her, the walls seemed to close around him. Memories he had managed to hold at bay last night hit him with full force now. Of Tiffany in a shimmery, clingy dress, the room backlit by candles, her hair a soft halo around her head.

Tiff had opened herself to him that night, revealed her hopes and dreams, and he had turned away. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

Jack thought about Samuel, about the furious interchange yesterday, and the one prior to it, the same night Jack had come here to join Tiffany for dinner.

If he had realised sooner, he would never have allowed…

Well, it was too late now—in more ways than even just that. He rubbed at the numb spot beneath his arm and forced the memories away. All of the memories.

As Tiffany made sandwiches, Jack talked about some of the legal work he’d done while overseas. Nothing specific, just generalities to fill the silence, but her eyes shone with interest anyway. He soaked that interest up and hoarded it close—because at least he could have some things.

‘Did you meet anyone really exciting overseas, Jack?’ She set the plate of sandwiches in the middle of the table, sat, and took the glass of juice he’d poured for her.

They ate in silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

‘Were there lots of business lunches and invitations to people’s homes? Did you go to parties? How did you cope with the language differences?’

Mostly, he had just survived. But he wasn’t about to say such a thing. He recalled something else instead, and smiled. ‘One thing happened. I saw Campbell Cheeses in a delicatessen, and maybe I had a deep patriotic moment or something—I don’t know—but I went totally ape and bought one of everything they had. It took me weeks to eat my way through just the varieties of feta with sun-dried tomato, and that was only the beginning.’

‘I’m glad to know you helped improve our international profile.’ She smiled, and even if it was a little bit forced her hazel eyes shone with warmth and affection for him.

He smiled back, and promised her silently that he would make this work.

All they needed was to focus on the truly important stuff and steer clear of the rest.

‘What on earth?’

It was evening. Tiffany and Jack had done the last of the chores for the day. They were on their way to the cottage when they discovered a geyser shooting into the sky, near the tank that supplied water to her parents’ house.

Tiffany gaped at the sight. This was the last thing she needed. ‘We only started to top that tank up half an hour ago. It shouldn’t have even needed to be checked until after dinnertime.’

‘We have to get this contained before any more water gets wasted.’

Jack made the observation, and they both stepped forward in unison.

The water spurted straight up from a point in the pipe not far from its connection to the tank. Water levels in all the tanks were monitored, and the tanks filled from pipeline water as appropriate. Today, Tiffany had decided they should top this tank up.

‘We’ll have to stop the flow, then try to work out what’s wrong.’ Jack strode to the control source, and swore when he tried to turn it off. ‘I can’t shut it off.’

Tiffany turned for the machinery shed. ‘I’ll get a wrench.’

‘It won’t be any use.’ Muscles flexed in Jack’s back where the shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. He straightened. ‘Something’s given way inside. The mechanism’s wrecked. I can feel it when I try to turn it.’

Tiffany forced her gaze away from Jack’s back and her thoughts to the problem at hand. ‘That’s probably why the pipe burst open. Which means the flow isn’t being regulated as it should be, either.’

Jack nodded. ‘We’ll have to do what we can to block the pipe, and then drive to the main and shut the water off there.’

‘At least it’s only this one pipeline.’ She hurried back towards the spurt of water. ‘It won’t affect the water supply to the milking shed or the water troughs, and the cottage tank is already full.’

But the main was several kilometres away, further into the property, beyond all the groupings of work sheds, which meant they needed to do something about this right now.

A puddle already covered a large area of ground in every direction. Tiffany waded into the muck, gave thanks for her sensible boots even if the gumboots of this morning would have been better, and positioned herself on the non-geysering side of the water flow. Jack quickly joined her, and they examined the pipe more closely.

‘We should be able to close it—or near to.’ His blue eyes locked on hers. ‘Have you got stockings at the cottage? Or anything else stretchy and long enough to tie around?’

‘Um, I have some stockings, and a pair of black stretch leggings from when I went through my yoga phase two years ago.’

‘Great.’ He gave a sharp nod.

‘I’ll get them.’ She hurried to the cottage, helped herself to the required goods, and ran all the way back.

Slightly out of breath, she handed the items to Jack. ‘How will we do this?’

He ran the pairs of stockings through his hands, seemed to realise what he had just done, and stopped abruptly. ‘These are single legs. I thought they’d be put together already. I mean—’

‘You mean pantyhose? I prefer thigh-highs.’ And she had to muzzle herself right now, before she started to explain the pros and cons of ladies’ personal undergarments. That really wouldn’t be a good idea. ‘What do you want me to do?’

He returned the Lycra leggings to her. ‘Tie these around your waist for the moment. If we need them, we’ll use them, but we’ll try the stockings first.’

He positioned himself close to the pipe. ‘We’ll try to get the pipe mostly closed with the stockings. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s not enough, we’ll go for the leggings, as well. I’ll wind the first couple of layers around and then we’ll take an end each and pull as hard as we can.’

It took a few futile attempts before they got the right angle and the right amount of pressure and managed to almost close the split in the pipe. By then Tiffany was soaked from crown to feet. Jack had fared a little better, but water dripped down his face and plastered one side of his shirt against him.

The moment he noticed her gaze on him there, he tugged the shirt away from his body in a movement that was almost protective. He turned away to gather up the couple of stockings they’d dropped in the mud in their haste as they tried to get the leak sealed. ‘Hopefully what we’ve done will hold until we can reach the main and shut it off. We could have driven straight there, but a lot more water would have been lost that way.’

‘I know. It was the right choice.’ She turned towards the machinery shed where the farm vehicles were stored. ‘We can go in the utility truck.’

Jack shook his head. ‘I’ve got a full tool kit in the back of the Jeep. Let’s get back to the cottage and take it. That way we’ll have tools on hand if we run into any further troubles at the main.’

A fair enough idea. It would probably take just as long to assemble the right tools at the shed. But it struck her as odd when he told her to change her clothes at the cottage before they got in the Jeep.

Since an argument would waste more time, she did as he asked, but once they were in the Jeep and driving past all the sheds towards the main, she in a dry T-shirt and jeans and Jack in his existing jeans and a dry button-down shirt with yet more of the large front pockets that he seemed to favour these days, she pointed out the facts. ‘We could have changed later. It’s a warm day, no risk of getting a chill. Surely the water is more important?’

What was it with him and his shirt pockets, anyway? Had he suddenly taken to carrying around a barrage of goods with him or something? Not that she had seen any evidence of that since he arrived.

‘It only took a minute, and I—I mean, you were very wet.’ He didn’t look at her, didn’t change his tone of voice, didn’t do anything but continue to drive ahead with his jaw clenched tight.

‘There’s the main.’ Jack brought the Jeep to a stop and they climbed out.

They were able to shut it off without any difficulty. She wished she could shut off her concerns about them renewing their relationship as easily, but she couldn’t. They drove back, cleaned up around the storage tank, and went on finally to the cottage.

Tension wrapped around them as they stepped inside. It showed in the way he masked his gaze as he looked at her. In the elevated beat of her heart as she tried not to look too closely back.

To cover her discomfort, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘It really did surprise me to see you’d cut your hair so short. I never expected to find you with a military-style cut.’

‘Everyone changes hairstyles from time to time. I told you—I haven’t changed.’ He almost growled the words, and shutters slapped down over his expression. ‘Is there anything else you want done outside before we call it quits for the day?’

His attitude definitely was protective, guarded. She would even say perhaps secretive. Why? Did he think if he relaxed with her she would throw herself at him? Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. Again, this was proof they needed a frank and open discussion to make things clear between them.

‘There’s always more to be done, but it can all wait until tomorrow.’ It might not be what he wanted to hear, but she wouldn’t make a workhorse out of him. There were limits, even when a person had volunteered to assist.

Jack dipped his head. ‘I’ll phone Denise, then. Ask how Ron got along today.’

Tiffany had wanted to broach an entirely different topic, but she nodded and turned away. It was important to hear how Ron was getting along. Things weren’t exactly running smoothly around here so far, but despite the farm-related hiccups she still had hope that she could present her parents with a good overall result when they got back.

Try, try and try again. It was what she had done as a child with her birth mother, although nothing had ever been enough.

That was then. This is a completely different situation, and the only reason you care about it is because you naturally want to do a good job of things.

Right. And the situation with Jack was different again. She would figure out how to deal with that, too.

She set about preparing the meal.

Jack stepped back into the kitchen and declared that Ron was fine. ‘Denise kept me talking with gossip for a few minutes.’

‘She does like a bit of a chat. I’m glad to hear Ron is doing okay.’

After the strained silence interspersed with uneasy small talk that had comprised their dinner break Jack took first shower. Tiffany hurried through hers next, to get away from the too-enticing scent of his shampoo and soap. She stepped back into the house in her summer pyjamas with a satin robe tied over. Her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back.

In that first moment as she moved into the kitchen Jack paused from sipping his tea at the bench and looked at her as a man who was utterly aware of her.

She didn’t mistake it or misread it. She was certain of that. As a result, shock coursed through her—shock, and a burst of unwelcome hope. Why did he look at her that way? She didn’t understand.

Then Jack blinked, and there was nothing at all, and she doubted herself all over again. Maybe she’d made the whole thing up. It had happened before—much to her embarrassment.

Jack took a sip of his tea. He wore similar jeans and shirt to those he’d had on when they’d turned off the water main. A fitted shirt showed beneath. He obviously planned to sleep in that, and perhaps he had shorts or boxers on under the jeans.

Maybe she should have covered up in ten layers, too, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She certainly wasn’t trying to entice him, and her robe was perfectly acceptable, anyway. At least she had thought so until she’d surprised that look in his eyes.

Or imagined she’d surprised it.

His fingers tightened around the mug of tea, and then he set it down and straightened away from the bench. ‘It’s getting late. I think I’ll turn in. Goodnight.’

He started to walk away, past her, towards the enclosed veranda room that held her spare bed and opened onto the cottage’s rear garden—an area comprised of mostly weeds and overgrown grass.

Tiffany almost let him go. But then it would just go on and on, wouldn’t it? He had been here little over twenty-four hours, and in that time they had generated a great deal of tension between them.

If they wanted to rebuild a relaxed relationship, something had to be done about that—whether it made him uncomfortable or not. ‘There’s something I need to say before you go, and I don’t want you to stop me.’

‘Tiff—’ His face a forbidding mask, he swung back towards her.

She went on quickly. ‘Before you left I embarrassed you when I developed an interest you didn’t return. To make matters worse I pursued the situation to a point where you chose to escape overseas to get away from me.’