The Cattleman's Special Delivery. Barbara Hannay. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Barbara Hannay
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
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felt strangely alone after he’d left. Outside the rain had slowed to a fine, dripping drizzle. She finished her tea, set the mug aside and settled down in the bed. Her body was exhausted. She really should try to get some sleep before Rosie woke again.

      She closed her eyes. The house was very quiet and outside there was just a background whisper of rain. She hoped Alan was safely in an ambulance, speeding to a hospital. She had no idea where the nearest hospital might be. She wondered if he would need to be airlifted to the coast … and she wondered when she would be able to tell him about Rosie …

      Perhaps she drifted off to sleep, but she roused quickly when she heard the swish of tyres in puddles, and then a vehicle pulling up outside. Footsteps and voices. Men speaking quietly and at some length.

      Jess wondered if it was the police, or an ambulance. Had they come for her? She sat up and switched on a bedside lamp and, of course, she checked on Rosie, pressing her hand gently to the baby’s back to make sure she was still warm and breathing. Rosie wriggled and made a snuffling protest.

      ‘Sorry,’ Jess whispered. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you.’

      Footsteps approached from down the hallway. A soft tap sounded on her door.

      ‘Come in,’ she called.

      Reece appeared, wearing an unbuttoned shirt that hung loose over his jeans, giving a hint of his broad chest with a smattering of dark hair, and a finely tapered waist. ‘Sergeant Bryant is here, Jess. He apologises for the late hour, but he’d like to speak to you.’

      She was suddenly scared and she felt a little sick as the policeman stepped into the room. He didn’t look threatening, however. He was middle-aged, balding and thickset and his expression was one of almost fatherly concern.

      ‘Good evening, Mrs Cassidy.’

      ‘Hello, Sergeant.’

      He nodded towards the cot and smiled. ‘I believe congratulations are in order.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      He stepped closer. ‘She’s a little sweetie, isn’t she? It’s been a big night for you.’

      ‘It has rather.’ Jess swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. ‘Have—have you seen my husband?’

      Sergeant Bryant dropped his gaze and cleared his throat and in that moment Jess knew, even before he spoke.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

      ‘He’s d-dead?’

      ‘I’m afraid he is.’

      At some primitive level, she had probably known all along, but until now she’d never allowed herself to think it was actually possible. But faced with the horrible truth, Jess felt strangely numb. She’d run the full gamut of her emotions tonight and it was almost as if there was nothing left to feel right at this moment …

      She couldn’t even squeeze out a tear, but she knew the grief would come … later …

      ‘At some stage I’ll need to talk to you about the accident,’ the sergeant said. ‘But I won’t bother you tonight.’

      She nodded.

      ‘The rain’s almost stopped, so I’m hoping that the ambulance will be able to get through in another few hours,’ he went on. ‘It will bring you back to Dirranbilla. You’ll be able to see a doctor. And then we can talk.’

      He looked into the cot again and his face creased in a soft smile and then he left her.

      Jess lay dazed, unable to focus on anything except the news that in another few hours … she would be leaving. She would be starting a new life.

      How strange … For a short space of time this simply furnished room had been a little sanctuary for her and for Rosie … a safe haven from the wild night … and from the real world where all her savings were lost and accidents happened and husbands died …

      Reece had been so kind. He’d delivered Rosie so beautifully. But in another few hours …

      She would be gone … and the cruel irony was, she would be a single mum, after all.

      CHAPTER THREE

      2/56 Mary Street,

      Edmonton, Cairns

      3rd March

      Dear Reece,

      Once again, thank you, although I know thanks aren’t enough. Rosie and I owe you our lives. I will write again properly when I have more time, but I wanted you to know that Alan’s funeral was yesterday and I’m managing OK.

      I thought you might like this photo of Rosie.

      She’s growing already, isn’t she?

      Warmest wishes and masses of gratitude,

      Jess.

      2/56 Mary Street,

      Edmonton, Cairns

      25th April

      Dear Reece,

      Thank you so much for the pink teddy bear and the little sleep suit dotted with roses. They are so cute—and such a kind thought. I cried when they arrived. I should be sending you gifts. I owe you so much. One day, I promise I’ll repay you.

      At least I can tell you that Rosie is thriving. She’s filling out nicely and she doesn’t wake too often, although she sometimes takes a bit of settling, especially in the evenings. Still, I can’t complain.

      She’s started smiling. You’ve no idea how cute her smiles are. Once she starts, she just keeps on smiling as if she thinks the whole world is hilarious.

      Thanks again and warmest wishes,

      Jess

      4a/89 Potts Street,

      Redlynch, Cairns

      16th June

      Dear Reece,

      Another big thank you from Rosie and me. What a lovely surprise to open your parcel and to find your note and the gorgeous board books. Rosie loves picture books and these are perfect.

      I showed her the cows and the pigs and the turkeys and told her all about your farm—not that I saw much. She squealed and crowed and bashed at the pages with her fat little fingers, which is her way of showing how much she loves something.

      You’re probably sick of seeing photos of her, but here’s one more. You can see she’s quite roly-poly now. Please ignore how I look. I was a bit tired that day and I hadn’t washed my hair, but then, you’ve seen me at my worst, haven’t you?

      Reece, I hope all is well with you. You didn’t actually say much in your concise and slightly cryptic note. Mind you, that’s not a criticism.

      For ever in your debt,

      Jess

      REECE opened the door to his father’s room—just a crack—and made sure the old man was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and snapped its lid. Tipping his head, he took a draught, letting the icy lager slide down his throat.

      He pushed the flyscreen door and went through to the veranda, propped his elbows on the railing and stared out at the paddocks that stretched long and flat to the distant line of trees. He thought again about Jess.

      She made out that she was fine in her letters, but something wasn’t right—he was sure of it. To begin with, she had no computer or phone for sending emails, and now she’d changed her street address. On the surface, that was probably no big deal—although a single mum moving house with a young baby couldn’t be a picnic—but it was the photo that really bothered him.

      He took it again from his shirt pocket and stepped into a circle of light to examine it carefully. The baby Rosie was as roly-poly and cute