Page 31 of Hard Road Home

“My wife, both of us really, were very young when we married. At first I thought it was a mistake. She was lovely but frivolous. Like a butterfly, flitting everywhere. Unsettled. Then she fell pregnant unexpectedly and I thought this would be the final straw for her. Yet she grew up when our daughter was born. Not all at once, but gradually over the months and years. She needed the challenge.” His hands shifted on his knees, gripping tight. “I didn’t expect her to face a harder challenge. Yet my frivolous butterfly faced cancer and death with a strength and dignity that shamed me.”

Bonnie didn’t know what to say. His words had reached into her heart and taught her a lesson she wouldn’t forget. Yet would Xander relish the challenges of a relationship with her, or would he decide it wasn’t fun? She had to tell him and let him decide. It had to be the truth.

A sound alerted her to the closing of the front door. Someone was arriving home. Rising to her feet, she extended her hand and he held it in a firm grasp. “Thank you for sharing about your wife. It’s helped me a lot.”

“A different perspective. I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

Xander appeared at the door, silhouetted against the light in the hall, his face shadowed. Mr Tsiarkas released her hand, picking up his drink. Clearly the conversation was finished.

Bonnie claimed her empty cup and moved toward the door. “Hi, Xander, did you need something?”

“No. I thought I should check the rooms. I didn’t expect anyone to be up.”

In the hallway, she glanced at her watch. After midnight. “I didn’t realise how late it was. You must have had a good catch-up.”

“Yes. We had dinner at the winery near his property. Afterwards we went back to his place for a talk, so the babysitter could go home.”

She noticed his clothes for the first time. “You are fancy tonight.”

He’d shed his standard uniform for a pair of navy chinos, a light blue shirt, and a tweed jacket in a blue-green weave. Similar to what a lot of the farmers and graziers wore to go out. It looked good on him, the blue bringing out the spark of his eyes.

Xander led the way to the staircase. “I didn’t realise you were so friendly with him.”

Was he jealous? It was hard to read his expression in the dimly lit hall with only enough light to allow late guests to find their way to bed. “He was sitting by himself and we struck up a conversation.”

“Holding hands?”

He was jealous. Her heart gave a little skip. “I was thanking him for sharing something personal about his life.”

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Xander looked down at her. “Something private?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you.”

They paused at the door to her room and his hand came up to touch her cheek. “You’re a nice person. I’m not surprised people confide in you.”

Bonnie stood very still, trying hard not to lean into his touch, hoping he felt the same impulse to get closer. His hand dropped away and he brushed a kiss over her slightly parted lips.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

She watched him go, his tread light on the carpet. Had she made a mistake, taking sex off the table? Maybe in the intimacy of the bedroom he might have opened up more. Or maybe he was on the run after the revelations up in the attic. Tomorrow would be interesting. She wasn’t sure how Xander felt about visiting his old stomping ground. He certainly wasn’t enthusiastic. Would old memories surface, shattering his seemingly casual facade?

*

The steering wheelwas cold under Xander’s fingers. He debated going inside to grab his gloves, but Bonnie was on her way, chatting to the guest she’d been talking to last night. It reminded him of those four years when she’d been in Canada, out of sight but not out of mind. There might not be anyone now. She had no reason to lie about it. He found it hard to believe there hadn’t been someone. Four years in one place, you could put down roots, make friends. Build relationships. His only roots were here.

Bonnie climbed into the front seat, bringing with her cold air with a subtle flavour of baking. She reached over to place a basket and esky bag on the back seat, bringing her dangerously close.

“I’m taking some cakes and biscuits out for Briar.”

The tasty smell was explained, shifting away as the heater blasted air towards the back and leaving only her own scent of flowers. “Did you bring some for us?”

“I have sandwiches. Do you still like ham and mustard?”

He shot a glance at her as they paused at the gateway. “With tomato?”

“Absolutely.”

“Excellent.” He flashed her a grin and turned onto the road, heading for the bridge leading south out of town.