Captivated By The Single Dad. Barbara Hannay

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      ‘That would be wonderful—although I’m sure I’d be sorry when I was stiff and sore.’

      His eyes sparkled as he turned to her. ‘You’ll soon loosen up.’ A little later he said, ‘I’m planning to teach Anna and Josh how to ride.’

      ‘Oh, good. They’ll love it.’

      ‘Even Anna?’

      ‘Especially Anna,’ Holly assured him. ‘She’s getting more into life in the Outback every day.’

      Gray smiled. ‘I’ll have to measure them up for riding helmets.’

      After that, he seemed to lapse back into thoughtful silence, and Holly sensed his focus shift from conversation to the ancient landscape all around him.

      Eventually, a red range of hills appeared, rising out of the flat land ahead of them. Holly was reminded of the backdrops of the old western movies her dad used to watch on Sunday afternoons, and she almost expected to see smoke signals puffing from the jagged ridges.

      When they crested a hill, Gray braked and in front of them the land dropped away, plunging, without warning, down sheer red cliffs.

      ‘Oh, my gosh!’ Holly was glad of her seatbelt. Leaning as far forward as the belt would permit, she peered through the dusty windscreen. ‘I guess this must be the gorge?’

      ‘It’s not quite the Grand Canyon.’

      ‘But it’s spectacular.’ She glanced back over her shoulder to the rear window and the view of the empty plains they’d just crossed. ‘Are we still on your land?’

      ‘Sure.’ Already Gray was opening the driver’s door. ‘Come and take a look. I love it out here.’

      Outside, the sun was scorching hot. Holly jammed her hat firmly on her head, but she wasn’t keen to step any closer to the edge of the gorge. It was an awfully long way down to the glinting water of the rock pools at the bottom. After just a hasty glance down there she felt dizzy.

      ‘Here, come with me.’ Gray had retrieved their backpacks from the rear of the truck and he handed the smaller one to Holly. ‘I’ll show you the best way to see the view.’

      She almost declined. She had quite a nice view from where she was standing, and she had a safe hold on the truck’s sturdy metal bull bar, thank you very much. But Gray was holding out his hand to her, and his air of confidence was very convincing.

      Summoning her courage, she managed to loosen her grip on the bull bar and his hand holding hers felt wonderfully strong and trustworthy, but she clung to him so tightly she was afraid she’d leave bruises.

      To her relief, he led her away from the cliff’s edge to what at first seemed like a hole in the ground, but turned out to be a man-made staircase cleverly hewn out of the rock.

      ‘This leads down through the roof of a cave,’ he said.

      ‘Wow. Did you make these stairs?’

      Gray laughed. ‘No way. They’ve been here for over a hundred years, but my grandfather helped to carve them out.’

      Intrigued, Holly allowed him to guide her down the rocky staircase. Already she could see that the cave below them wasn’t gloomy or dark, but filled with sunlight. And it had a wide sandy floor, so she began to feel calmer.

      By the time they reached the bottom of the steps, she looked around with amazed delight. The cave was set into the side of the escarpment and it formed a safe shelf, a fabulous, cosy viewing platform offering a spectacular view all the way down the gorge.

      ‘Gray, it…it’s fabulous.’

      His blue eyes met hers, watching her closely, as if he was intensely interested in her reaction. Apparently satisfied, he smiled. ‘Not bad, is it?’

      ‘It’s amazing. I think I’ll sit down though, so I can take it all in.’

      By this time, she’d become super-aware of their linked hands—of the heat of Gray’s palm against hers, of the pressure of his fingers as he gripped her firmly and safely. To her surprise, she was incredibly reluctant to release his hand before she lowered herself to the sandy floor.

      Once she was seated, Gray edged forward, closer to the mouth of the cave, and he hunkered down, taking in the view. He loved this place with its rock pools that reflected the sky and the spectacular sandstone escarpments carved out of the ancient landscape. He never failed to be moved by its grandeur.

      But today he was trying to imagine how the gorge might look through Holly’s eyes. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but he found himself hoping that she might somehow understand what it meant to him.

      At least she wasn’t talking non-stop. She seemed happy enough to drink in the atmosphere, or to quietly take photographs with her small digital camera.

      In the languid silence Gray let his shoulders relax against a warm wall of sandstone. He heard the warbling notes of a pied butcherbird and a flock of galahs calling in the distance. Below, on the water, a pair of grebes floated.

      After a while, he asked quietly, ‘So, what do you reckon?’

      ‘This is so beautiful,’ Holly said softly. ‘It feels almost…spiritual.’

      A good answer. ‘It is spiritual,’ he said. ‘At least it is for the Aborigines.’

      And for me, he added silently, thinking of the many times when his life had hit rock bottom and he’d come to this place to search for some kind of peace.

      Moving carefully on her hands and knees, Holly crawled a little closer, then sat cross-legged, looking out. ‘It’s awesome. Unforgettable.’ She spoke in a hushed undertone, the way people talked in church.

      She took a few more photos, then lowered her camera. ‘I’m sure this gorge has been here for ever. A dinosaur could come lumbering out from behind a rock and it wouldn’t look out of place.’

      Her face was soft, her dark eyes luminous with wonder. And Gray had to look away, concentrating his attention on a lizard as it disappeared down a crack in a rust-stained rock.

      He’d hoped Holly would like this place, but he hadn’t expected her to so totally get its timeless mystery.

      ‘Is it weird to feel that there’s someone here?’ she asked. ‘A gentle spirit, looking after us?’

      He had to swallow the hard lump in his throat before he could speak. ‘Not weird at all. That’s why I love it. Sitting here quietly, taking in the silence, always makes me feel stronger. Uplifted. The Aborigines call it “listening to country”.’

      He turned and saw Holly nodding slowly, a pretty smile lighting her eyes.

      ‘Listening to country,’ she repeated softly. ‘I like that. I used to do a lot of that when I was growing up in Vermont. On my way to school I used to love walking over the covered bridge on Staple’s Brook and along the banks beneath sugar maples and birches. Listening to country. I am so on that page.’

      Launching to his СКАЧАТЬ