Her Holiday Miracle. Joanna Neil

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      ‘Oh …’ She gave a small gasp of delight as she looked out over the hillside and down into the rocky cove. ‘It’s so lovely. It’s perfection.’ Beyond the shoreline, outlined beneath the deep blue of the sea, she saw the turquoise ridge of a coral reef. ‘It’s even better than the way Emma described it to me.’

      ‘Yes, it’s an exquisite island—a beautiful place to live … and work. I’ve travelled the world, but I always love to come back here.’ He negotiated a winding road down to the scattering of houses that made up the small hamlet. ‘Yours is the cabin, you said?’

      ‘Yes … I think I can see it amongst the trees. Emma sent me pictures of it.’

      Excitement bubbled up inside her as she caught sight of a timber-clad house with white-framed windows and a white-painted wooden balustrade enclosing a wide veranda. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the hills as they drew up in front of the house. Everything looked tranquil and untouched by the outside world. She sat for a moment, taking it all in. She could be happy here. She felt it deep inside. Surely this was a place of healing, where she could mend her body and her spirit?

      ‘Presumably your sister would have been expecting you earlier? How will you get into the property if she’s not here now?’

      She frowned. ‘It’s been a couple of hours since her text message—I would have thought she’d be home by now. But she said she would leave a key in a safe place where I’d be sure to find it.’ She laughed softly. ‘Knowing Emma, that probably means it could be under a rock marked “Key is here”.’

      He laughed with her. ‘I dare say the locals are all on good terms with your sister. You can rest easy. We don’t get a lot of crime out here.’

      He parked the car in front of the cabin a few minutes later. It was set against a backcloth of leafy trees and dense shrubbery, its location completely private, and everything smelled fresh and open to nature.

      Cade waited while Rebecca knocked on the door. When there was no answer she stifled her disappointment and went in search of the key.

      ‘It was hidden in a box under the veranda,’ she told him. ‘Would you like to come in for a drink of some sort? I expect there’ll be juice in the fridge—or coffee?’

      ‘Thanks. I’ll have a coffee, if you have the makings. I’ll see you settled in and then I should be on my way. I have to get over to the plantation to meet up with my estate manager.’

      ‘You work late out here?’

      He nodded. ‘Occasionally. Sometimes it’s necessary if problems crop up. My manager wants to see me about getting a new truck—the one we have at the moment keeps breaking down. He lives in a cottage on the plantation, so it’s not as if he’ll be put out too much. I need to get it sorted.’

      All this on top of his work as a doctor? He obviously believed in keeping busy. She stepped on to the veranda and unlocked the front door. ‘Come in.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      They both took a moment to look around. The living room was simply furnished, with a polished light oak floor, a couple of settees and a coffee table, and opened out into a light and airy kitchen-diner at one end. The units there were cream-coloured, with pale oak worktops that were easy on the eye. Two sets of French doors led from the kitchen and the living room out on to the veranda that swept around the building, giving a view through the trees of the delightful cove below.

      ‘I’ll just see if Emma has any coffee.’ Rebecca checked the cupboards, then set out porcelain mugs on the oak table while she waited for the kettle to boil. There was a note from Emma propped up against the sugar bowl. ‘She doesn’t know when she’ll be back,’ Rebecca said, quickly scanning it. ‘She says the landlord will stop by tomorrow morning to sort out a problem with the window shutters.’

      She frowned. It definitely sounded as though she would not be back tonight.

      ‘Ah, I might have known it—Emma’s left some food for supper,’ she murmured, continuing to read and then going to rummage in the fridge. ‘We might as well help ourselves … there’s plenty for both of us, from the looks of things. Spiced chicken drumsticks and salad, with savoury rice.’ She turned to him. ‘How does that sound?’

      He pulled in a breath. ‘Too tempting to refuse,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘It seems to be quite a while since I had lunch.’

      ‘Mmm … me, too,’ she agreed, taking dishes and platters from the fridge. She frowned. ‘I wish I knew how long she was going to be. I was so looking forward to seeing her again.’

      ‘Is she older than you or younger?’ he asked as they sat down to eat a minute or so later.

      ‘Older by just a year. But for all that she’s always sort of looked after me … kept me on the straight and narrow, so to speak—our cousins, too. They’re three or four years younger than us.’ She waved a hand over the food she had set out. ‘Help yourself.’

      She’d always looked to Emma for guidance over the years. Perhaps Emma would know how she could get over her illness and the break-up with Drew and restore her self-confidence once more. When her consultant had said she might have difficulty in having children because of scar tissue blocking her fallopian tubes it had come as a devastating blow. Rebecca had withdrawn into herself for a while and shut out the outside world. She hadn’t wanted to face up to anything for some time.

      As for now … A recklessness seemed to have taken her over. She’d left her job, left the country, put everything behind her. And she’d met a handsome young man on the ferry coming over here—not to mention the fact that now she was sharing a meal with a perfect stranger in the privacy of a secluded cabin. Had she lost her senses? Perhaps she was hell bent on self-destruction. She didn’t want to take anyone down with her, but was she headed that way? Emma would surely put her right.

      She shook the thoughts from her mind. Better to think of something completely different. ‘What kind of plantation do you have?’ she asked now. ‘What do you grow there?’

      Cade had been watching her, she realised, clearly curious about her introspection, but now he followed her lead and answered readily. ‘Cocoa—everything depends on producing a good crop.’

      ‘You said it had been run down—why would that happen?’

      ‘Because of disease in the plants, the weather—hurricane winds, tropical storms—and low prices. A lot of people out here gave up on cocoa and turned to banana-growing instead. It must have seemed like the better option.’

      ‘But you think you can make a go of it where others have failed?’

      He nodded. ‘I’ll certainly have a good try.’ He finished off his chicken and wiped his hands on a paper serviette. ‘That was delicious.’

      She inclined her head briefly. ‘Emma’s always been a good cook.’

      They talked some more about food in general, and his hopes for the plantation, and then her phone rang, cutting in on their conversation.

      ‘Perhaps it’s Emma. I should answer it,’ she said quickly.

      ‘Of course. Please—go ahead.’

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