Captivated By The Single Dad. Barbara Hannay

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      ‘I’m sure Holly’s right.’ Gray was thinking of a conversation in New York when Holly had talked about his children and their grief. Ever since then, he’d felt guilty that he’d shied away from raising the subject of Chelsea’s death with them.

      If he took Holly’s advice and talked about it more, he might be able to save Anna from her nightmares. Holly was in there now with Anna, soothing her, doing everything she could to help his daughter to feel safe…to heal.

      But in a few weeks Holly would be gone, and it would be up to him. And for all he knew, Josh might need his help, too. At the moment the boy seemed to be coping just fine, but how much pain had he kept bottled up?

      ‘Josh, I’ve never thanked you,’ Gray began unsteadily, and already, just thinking about what he wanted to say made his eyes sting and his throat choke up. ‘I’ve never thanked you for ringing the ambulance for your mom—’

      He stopped, took a breath to clear the shake out of his voice. ‘That was such smart thinking. I’m so proud of you, son.’

      At first there was no sound from the bed. And then, ‘But I didn’t save her.’ In the darkness, Josh’s voice sounded extra-tiny and quivery. ‘Mommy died.’

      A sob brimmed in Gray’s throat and he gulped it down. ‘Sometimes we can’t save people, Josh.’ He took a breath. ‘But the big thing is, you did your best and that’s so fantastic. That’s why I’m so proud of you. Your mom would have been proud, too.’

      Tears threatened again and the next breath Gray drew shuddered in his chest. To his surprise, he felt two wiry arms winding around his neck, and then Josh was clinging to him, his bony head pressed hard under Gray’s jaw.

      ‘Thanks, Dad.’

      Gray smelled the warm just-bathed scent of his son, mingled with a faint whiff of puppy, and he was flooded with love. Then he felt hot tears wetting his T-shirt. A beat later, Josh was crying noisily, weeping as if his heart would break.

      Fighting his own tears, Gray gathered the boy in and held him close, felt his small body shaking as the grief poured out of him.

      Poor little kid. Gray could remember how he’d looked when he was born—tiny, red, fists curled ready to take on the world. He pictured again the fine man the boy would grow up to be.

      ‘I’m here for you, Josh,’ Gray whispered. ‘I promise. I’ll be the best dad ever. No matter what it takes.’

      It was some time before Josh was calm again. Worn out from crying, he finally sank back onto the pillow and looked up at Gray with tear-washed eyes.

      ‘Dad, do you think if we’d stayed here with you that Mommy wouldn’t have died?’

      Gray stifled a groan of dismay. His throat closed over and he couldn’t speak.

      ‘No,’ he finally managed in a tight voice. ‘I’m afraid it wouldn’t have made any difference, mate.’

      ‘Why didn’t we stay here?’

      ‘Didn’t—’ This was so hard. ‘Didn’t your mom explain?’

      ‘She just said she needed to work at the ballet.’

      ‘That’s right. Your mom’s work was very important to her. She was very talented and she needed to live in New York.’

      Josh nodded and sighed, then rolled sleepily onto his side. To Gray’s surprise, the boy was very soon asleep, his breath falling evenly and softly.

      But when he went back to his own room, he lay staring at the ceiling, thinking once again about his marriage, about Chelsea, and his wonderful kids…

      His old fear returned. How he could pull off being the ‘best dad ever’? He wanted to be everything Anna and Josh needed, but they needed an educated father, someone who had the right connections, someone who’d learned so much more than running a cattle station.

      He thought of Chelsea again, of her growing disappointment and unhappiness. He thought of his own mother, who still to this day managed to make him feel unbearably deficient.

      How long would it be—years or only months—before Anna and Josh saw through his bluff and discovered the failings he’d worked so hard and so long to hide?

      ‘Your dinner’s keeping warm in the oven,’ Janet told Gray two nights later, when he arrived home after a long day of shifting cattle on his western boundary. ‘I’ve left Holly’s dinner in the oven, too. Right now, she’s putting the children to bed.’

      ‘Already?’ Gray glanced at the clock on the wall in surprise. It was only ten past seven. ‘The kids aren’t sick, are they?’

      Janet laughed. ‘Heavens, no. If that pair were any fitter they’d be dangerous.’

      He sent Janet a cautious glance. ‘How was their first day of school?’

      ‘I’ll let them tell you.’

      Her enigmatic answer caused a twinge of fear—the old fear that had haunted him as long as he could remember—but Janet was smiling, so he decided he was overreacting. He set off down the hall.

      Even before he reached the children’s room, he heard their laughter, but then he realised the sounds were coming from Holly’s room.

      His pace slowed, then stopped altogether. For the past two days and nights, he’d been dealing with images of Holly in bed—which only proved he wasn’t the brightest young bull in the paddock. In the midst of his poor little daughter’s distress, he’d been distracted by an overpowering urge to kiss her nanny—despite the nanny’s sensible flannelette pyjamas.

      It was an unforeseen problem—this tendency to find his thoughts flashing to Holly. It was the last thing he’d expected, the last thing he wanted. He had no intention of setting himself up for another romantic disaster.

      A burst of laughter from the bedroom was accompanied by Holly’s voice, high-pitched and squeaking. Actually, the sound was more like quacking, as if Holly was acting out a story. Gray drew a bracing breath and continued on to the doorway of her room.

      To his surprise, the room was in darkness. In the dim light he could see that Holly’s bed had been transformed into a tent made from sheets draped from the tall brass bedposts and joined in the middle by large safety pins. The silhouettes of his giggling children and their nanny were illuminated by torchlight inside the tent.

      It looked like incredible fun.

      Gray stood in the darkened doorway, watching them, hands sunk in the pockets of his jeans…moved beyond reason…flooded by memories of his own lonely childhood in this house and his parents’ constant bickering and battles.

      Never once had he experienced anything close to this level of fun or fellowship. Later, he’d enjoyed yarns around campfires and he’d discovered the camaraderie of the stockmen in the mustering team, but his early home life had been constantly marred by his parents’ tension and deep unhappiness.

      By contrast, Holly was going out of her way to keep his children entertained and happy and secure. Her generosity was a revelation to him. СКАЧАТЬ