Outback Wife and Mother

‘Where would you like to go?’ she asked with a smile.

‘Do you like Thai food?’

‘Love it.’

They took a taxi to the best Thai restaurant in the city.

‘You know Melbourne well?’ Ally asked as their taxi wove through the traffic.

‘Only the inner city area. I usually only come down for conferences once or twice a year.’

‘And these cows of yours. Beef or dairy?’

‘Beef. I own a cattle property on the Burdekin River. Wallaroo Downs.’

‘The Burdekin? That’s in North Queensland, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is.’

‘A long way from here.’ Ally tried not to sound too bothered by this news.

‘About three thousand kilometres.’

‘And you like living up there?’

‘Yes. I do.’ He slanted her a slow smile and stretched his arm along the back of the seat. ‘And I like visiting down here.’

The restaurant was fairly crowded, but there were still some tables to spare. The gleaming timber furniture, soft cream wool carpeting and enormous ceramic urns of beautiful fresh flowers provided a formal enough atmosphere for them to feel at ease in their elegant evening wear.

‘It’s been too long since I dined out,’ Fletcher commented after they were seated.

‘Well, at least you have an excuse,’ said Ally. ‘I don’t suppose there are too many restaurants on your block, but I’m surrounded by them and I still don’t indulge much.’

‘So, tonight is a treat for both of us,’ smiled Fletcher, and Ally wondered if she had ever seen quite such a sexy smile.

It was ridiculous to feel so excited, so expectant, as if she were a child on her birthday surrounded by beautifully tempting, as-yet-unopened presents, or a skydiver on the brink of a thrilling leap into the unknown.

She willed her stomach to stop fluttering as they chatted about the menu, discussed the food and wine, their likes and dislikes. When the waiter came, Fletcher pronounced the Thai dishes with surprising fluency.

‘You’ve been to Thailand?’ she asked.

‘Not as a tourist. Strictly business.’

‘But you took time out for the important business of eating.’

Fletcher grinned and reached out to take her hand. ‘I’m rather glad Lucette harangued me into coming to your show.’ He looked down at her hand, which seemed so small and white in his sun-tanned grasp. ‘No rings,’ he said and then added with a lift of one dark eyebrow, ‘Does that also mean no strings?’

‘My work pulls me in all kinds of directions,’ Ally admitted. ‘But no strings of the personal variety. I’ve been rather single-minded about focusing on my career.’

‘I can’t believe there haven’t been numerous attempts to sidetrack you.’

She tasted the crisp, white wine Fletcher had chosen while she considered his comment.

‘A girl has to be careful.’ She looked straight into his bright blue eyes. ‘There have been plenty of wolves in the forest, but I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was far too easily led. I’ve mostly ignored them and just kept on going, heading straight for Granny’s house.’

‘In this case, Granny’s house being the Quintessential label?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled.

‘So, after the resounding success of this evening’s show, perhaps you’ve earned yourself a little diversion,’ he said.

‘Per-perhaps.’

But, just remember, a warning voice sounded in her head, that is all this man who lives three states away can possibly be—a temporary diversion. A pleasant—an extremely pleasant—dinner companion.

The meal was superb. A delicious soup of seafood simmered in coconut milk, ginger and coriander was followed by special Thai curries—a green beef curry for Fletcher and a red chicken version for Ally. Both dishes were accompanied by aromatic spoonfuls of fluffy, jasmine rice.

For Ally, the meal, the wine and the accompanying conversation were highly charged. While no one else had ever made her feel so comfortable, her bubbling emotions continually kept her on edge—incredibly excited and happier than she could ever remember, but nervous, too, wondering what on earth she would do when this meal was over and it was time for them to go their separate ways.

They talked and laughed together and she found herself telling Fletcher more about her love for fashion and her ambitions, and he listened intently, making her feel that she was a fascinating conversationalist. He talked a little about the conference that had brought him to Melbourne and very briefly about Wallaroo Downs.

Throughout the meal, his eyes were watching her. They seemed to travel restlessly from her face and throat to her arms and back again and she knew he was as sensitive as she was to something intensely strong and powerful filling the space between them. It was a heady, almost suffocating tension. This must be what they call sexual chemistry, Ally thought with bewildered fascination. Until now men had only ever induced in her a kind of bemused, gentle stirring of her senses. But Fletcher’s compelling masculinity triggered an elemental need that startled her.

So that when they left the restaurant and stepped out onto the street, Ally found herself turning to Fletcher and saying a trifle nervously, ‘My apartment’s only two blocks away. We could walk there if you like—for coffee.’

‘Great idea,’ he said with an easy smile and took her hand as they set off.

You’ve only just met the man, Ally kept reminding herself as they passed late-night coffee shops and silent, darkened office buildings. So, your hormones have come out of hibernation, but just remember you never, ever sleep with anyone on a first date.

‘How long are you in town for?’ she surprised herself by asking. It was a question she’d avoided all evening.

‘Three days.’

Only three days! ‘Oh.’ Ally bit down hard on her lip, but it was too late to stifle the cry of disappointment.

Perhaps Fletcher shared her reaction, for he paused and, drawing her into the shadows of a shopfront, gathered her closer to him.

‘And that reminds me...’ he murmured.

‘Reminds you?’ Ally’s voice trembled, her breath snatched away by his proximity. Up so close, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, sense the strong muscles beneath his suit jacket and smell the spicy tang of his aftershave. In the scant light thrown by a street lamp some distance away, she could see his delicious smile. His eyes held hers and as she looked into the blue depths, she knew she had never wanted to be kissed more than she did now.

If only he needed to kiss her as much as she needed to taste his beautiful, sensuous mouth. Her ears buzzed, her heart had surely stopped beating. Was she breathing? Everything seemed to have stopped.

‘I’m reminded,’ he whispered, ‘that it’s time to start kissing you now. We really don’t have time to waste, do we?’ His hand cradled her cheek. ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you all evening,’ he said. Then he lowered his lips to hers, to take her mouth gently in a kiss so tender, so tempting, that it only served to fire a desperate longing for more. Her lips parted eagerly as his mouth met hers again, to kiss her more deeply, more urgently, his arms binding her hard against him.

Ally hardly knew how to cope with the jolt of wild sensations that surged through her.

‘O-oh,’ she moaned softly, wondering if her feet still touched the ground, knowing at once that she belonged in this man’s arms. Not wanting his mouth to ever leave hers. Nothing had ever felt so right.

He broke away as footsteps approached.

‘We need somewhere private where I can kiss you very thoroughly.’

‘We’ve nearly reached my place. It’s just around the corner,’ Ally replied, ignoring with reckless ease the alarm bells rung by her well-exercised conscience.

They walked quickly. The lift shot up to her apartment, and once inside, Ally switched on the low table lamps. In the warm pool of light, Fletcher looked at her, holding out his arms with a smile that banished any lingering inhibitions. And she walked into them, as eagerly and gladly as if it were what she was born to do. He threaded his fingers through her dark hair.

‘You know, Ally, I don’t consider myself a wolf. It’s not usually my policy to rush these things.’

She felt a ridiculous stab of dismay at the note of caution in his voice.

‘Well, to be honest, I like to get to know a man before I let him...kiss me,’ she forced herself to admit.

‘It’s a bit reckless, can be dangerous in fact.’

‘It certainly can be,’ she muttered, burying her head into his chest and breathing in the mixture of cotton and silk of his clothes combined with the cleanly masculine scent of his skin. Hearing the pounding of his heart.

‘So perhaps I should leave now?’ he breathed against her cheek, as his fingers gently stroked the nape of her neck.

‘Do you really want to know what I think?’ she asked, closing her eyes and arching her curves closer into his strength.

‘Uh-huh,’ he murmured, while his lips trailed dizzying circles over her jaw in a manner that could elicit only one possible answer.

‘I think we’re wasting valuable time standing here talking.’

CHAPTER TWO

ALLY looked up sleepily as Fletcher emerged from the bathroom, a huge white towel looped around his lean hips. Her breath caught in her throat. All this dark-haired, broad-shouldered, lean-and-muscled masculine perfection was about to walk out of her life just as abruptly as it had appeared. How could the time have flown so quickly?

Monday morning had never felt so bad.

Over the weekend, she and Fletcher had been together for every moment their work commitments spared them, and Ally was delighted to discover that there were so many other wonderful qualities about this man apart from his superb body. She and Fletcher had meshed on so many levels—emotional, physical and intellectual. It had been like meeting a soul mate.

But it had been all too short.

‘Did we really only meet two night’s ago?’ she asked, while her thoughts echoed silently—I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.

Her knees tucked under her chin, Ally watched from the bed as Fletcher slowly buttoned his shirt, looking down at her with a regretful, thoughtful smile.

He crossed the room to sit on the edge of her mattress. ‘I think there’s a New Age term for the way we met,’ he said. ‘We experienced a defining moment.’ He lifted his hand as if he were going to reach for her, but stopped, the hand hovering in midair. He sighed and stood up again, reaching instead for the lavender lace nightdress which was crumpled at the bottom of her bed. Tossing it to her, he flashed a cheeky smile. ‘And I’d say you’ve been redefined as a purple passionfruit.’

Ally plucked at the garment. Her fondness for all shades of purple had amused and enchanted Fletcher. Until now it had simply been a colour she often chose to wear because it complemented her dark hair, pale skin and clear, grey eyes. But Fletcher had insisted her favourite colour was symbolic of the newly discovered passionate side to her nature she had never known existed.

She tried desperately to smile back at him. But it was difficult to hide the despair she felt at the reality of Fletcher’s leaving. Any minute now the taxi would be pulling up in the street below and he would be walking out of her life, catching the early flight back to North Queensland and his cattle and his outback. He might as well be heading for Mars.

‘I suppose you could call our meeting a defining moment,’ she said, but then in the next breath, she blurted out, ‘But what about the old-fashioned description—love at first sight across a crowded room?’

‘Love?’ Fletcher looked down at her, startled. ‘When I’m about to catch a plane to the back of beyond...’ He paused in the act of threading a plaited leather belt through the loops of his jeans and his eyes darkened to a worried navy blue. ‘We can’t afford to get overly romantic, Ally.’

She felt her face flood with scarlet and a cold hand clamp tightly round her heart. She’d been caught out making the oldest mistake of all. Confusing passionate sex with love and respect and compatibility. Fletcher had never promised her anything more than three nights.

And now their time was up. And she was grown up. This was the real world.

But how could she bear it?

Then it happened just as Ally knew it would. The taxi arrived, with a screech of tyres and a blast of its horn. Fletcher clasped her to him, kissed her, held her, whispered soothing nothings, kissed her again. And then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft sigh and she heard his footsteps on the pavement below, the slam of a car door. And it was all over. Just like that.

She couldn’t move. She should have been eating breakfast, dressing for work, but she lay there in the bed wondering how something so wonderful could leave her feeling so lonely and desolate. The usual expectant tingle she felt at the start of the working week had vanished. Her mind, her heart, her body—all of her was numb—a huge gaping vacuum.

Well, she thought with chagrin, Fletcher Hardy had taught her one thing—actually, several if the truth be told. She had never known that lovemaking could be so imaginative, beautiful and exciting all at once. But the end result was her very sure knowledge that she was not the type to enjoy casual sex. It had never happened that way before. Never before had she simply met a man she wanted and thought that alone was an excuse for intimacy. And now she was paying the price for giving away her heart and her body so easily.

She had fallen in love. Hopeless, unreturned love.

She rolled over and buried her head in the pillow, giving in to the luxury of tears—of huge, gasping, noisy sobs.

She wasn’t sure how long she had lain there deep in her misery before the phone on her bedside table rang loudly, startling her. Automatically, she lifted the receiver without stopping to consider that she was in no fit state to take a call.

‘Hello, Ally. Ally, are you there?’

‘Yes,’ she blubbered, shoving the bunched-up corner of the sheet into her mouth to stifle more sobs.

‘Ally, it’s Lucette.’

‘Oh, hi. How—how are you?’

‘Much better thanks. But I was knocked out by this flu. I can’t believe my rotten luck missing the show.’

‘Oh, Lucette, you poor thing. I meant to ring you, but—I got caught up. I know that sounds a rather lame excuse. Your set was wonderful! It really was marvellous.’

‘I’m glad everything was OK. Do you have the flu now, Ally? You sound awful.’

‘My nose is a bit stuffed up,’ admitted Ally, reaching for a tissue. ‘By the way, I met your cousin,’ she added, regretting, even as the words left her lips, her feeble, weak will.

‘Fletcher? Really? I hadn’t heard from him so I assumed he didn’t make it to the show. Poor fellow, I bet he hated it. It’s not really his scene at all.’

‘Oh, he seemed fairly interested in some aspects of it.’

‘What did you think of him?’ asked Lucette, a subtle lilt in her voice implying past experience of Fletcher’s effect on women. ‘Most of my friends think he’s pretty cute.’

I’ il bet they do, thought Ally with a stab of foolish jealousy. How many other friends of Lucette’s had Fletcher dallied with? ‘He—he seemed very presentable,‘ she mumbled.

‘Anyhow you’d be wasting your time looking twice at Fletcher,’ continued Lucette.

‘Oh?’ Ally tried for nonchalance, but the word emerged as more of a desperate honk.

‘Oh, he has too much bush in his blood. I mean, I grew up in the bush, too—on a property not far from his, but I was glad to leave the outback. But Fletcher will never leave. He’s totally committed to his property. Passionate about the land. So there’s not much future for a city girl with a man like him.’

‘Fair enough,’ replied Ally, trying to sound bored, wishing she’d had more common sense than to allow this conversation to turn to Fletcher. ‘Did you read the coverage of our show in the newspapers?’ she asked, trying to steer Lucette back to safer ground.

But she didn’t hear Lucette’s reply. As she sat there on her bed, the phone clutched in one hand and a bunch of tissues in the other, she heard a familiar, authoritative knock at her front door. Her heart stilled.

Ally dropped the phone, then picked it up and spluttered. ‘I—I’m sorry, Lucette. I’ve got to go.’

Then, her heart thundering in her chest, she bounded out of bed and snatched up a towelling bathrobe, tying it around her as she hurried across the room. It couldn’t be! Surely not.

At the front door, she paused and took a deep breath. Don’t be ridiculous, she warned herself. He’s on the plane. This will be someone from work. Get a grip! But it was a shaking hand she raised to the latch.

She inched the door open. At first, all she could see was an enormous bunch of Cooktown orchids with lilac petals and purple throats. But then, from behind them, came Fletcher’s uncertain smile.

‘Oh!’

‘These were the only purple flowers I could find,’ he said with an apologetic grin and a slight shrug of one broad shoulder. ‘I know it’s your favourite colour and—’

‘Fletcher, you’re still here.’

‘I couldn’t do it, Ally,’ he whispered into her hair as she flung her arms around him. ‘I don’t know what this means, but I couldn’t get on that plane. I...’

The rest of his words were lost as she linked her hands behind his neck and, with a gesture that felt as right and natural as breathing, pulled his face and his beautiful, sensuous mouth to meet hers.

She managed to wangle a week’s special leave. The following days and nights were perfect. They drove into the country and wandered hand in hand through fields of springtime wild flowers. They dined out, cooked for each other, brought home take-away meals and watched movies together. Sensational days and mghts. Ally had never had so much fun, had never felt so happy. It was a happiness she knew could not last, but she refused to think about the future, and had absolutely no inclination to think about her work.

And the Cooktown orchids were the first of many purple presents. Fletcher showered her with gifts; chocolate hearts with violet cream centres, a purple velvet evening bag, a box of crystallised violets and finally a beautiful pendant with amethysts set in filigree silver.

Two nights before she was due back at work they lay together on her wide bed, their bodies gleaming in the silvery light of the moon that shone through a high arched window, listening to one of Ally’s favourite Brahms sonatas. Rolling onto his side so that, propped on one elbow, he could look into her eyes, Fletcher smiled tenderly. ‘I shall never, ever forget you, Ally.’ With a long finger, he traced the silvery outline of her body. ‘This neat silhouette will be my most precious memory,’ he told her, his voice husky.

‘I’ve never been so happy.’ She laughed, kissing him. ‘I’ve quite shocked myself.’

Fletcher’s blue eyes widened. ‘Shocked as in horrified, or shocked as in surprised?’

‘Oh, surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.’ She bent over him, enjoying the hungry glint in his eyes as her breasts grazed his chest. She nibbled gently at the stubble on his chin. ‘I’ve never been like this before. Wanting to make love over and over. Never having enough.’

‘Some people might find that shocking,’ Fletcher agreed with a happy chuckle, ‘but I don’t have a problem with it.’

‘So, you’re not sleepy yet?’ she asked, her voice sultry with desire.

‘How could I sleep with your tempting little body draped all over me. Watch out, Ally, you’re about to be shocked some more, but I promise you’ll love it.’ And Fletcher was as good as his word.

The happy bubble burst with a phone call at breakfast.

Ally was making fruit salad, scooping out the fleshy pulp of a passionfruit and laughingly claiming that she bore absolutely no resemblance to the round purple fruit Fletcher had coined as her nickname.

The shrill summons of the telephone came from the lounge room.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Fletcher, helping himself to a cube of mango before he swung his long legs off the pine kitchen stool.

With a contented smile, Ally watched him stride across the room, then she continued to chop banana and squeeze lemon juice over it before adding it to the bowl. She was stirring all the fruits together, delighting in the fresh colour combinations of the different melons—the pale green of honeydew, combined with the deep pink of watermelon and the delicate orange of rockmelon—when she sensed Fletcher standing very still and quiet in the kitchen doorway. She looked up and was startled by his stunned, sad expression.

‘Fletcher, what’s the matter?’

‘There’s been an accident,’ he said quietly.

Ally felt her stomach lurch with a sudden horrible fear. She watched him walk towards her slowly, awkwardly, his mouth twisted with the effort to hold his emotions in check. ‘My best friend, Jock Lawrence and his wife, Lisa—killed in a car accident in Sydney.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ Fletcher let out a weary sigh and sank back onto the kitchen stool, his shoulders slumped. Ally quickly moved to the other side of the bench and slipped her arms around him. She rested her cheek gently against his and he turned and kissed her in a brief acknowledgment of her offer of comfort. ‘I just can’t believe it. He was such a great guy. We went to school, to university...’

There was nothing she could say or do except stay there, holding him, letting him talk slowly, haltingly.

‘I’ll have to go, Ally. I mean I’d go to the fune-ftmeral anyway. But there’s his son—little Connor. He was the only—only survivor, strapped in one of those little seats in the back. I’m his godfather and, according to old Mr. Lawrence, I’ve also been named as his guardian.’

‘Guardian? Does that mean he’ll live with you?’

‘Perhaps. I’m not sure yet. He’s with his grandparents in Sydney at the moment, but they’re pretty old and frail. Jock’s father sounded very shaken.’ He stood up quickly, so quickly that her hands, as they fell away from his shoulders, slapped against her sides. ‘I’ll have to ring the airlines and make a booking. Oh, God, I can’t believe it.’

Ally followed him into her lounge room and sat some distance away watching as he dialled and waited for a connection, before speaking to the airline. She felt cold and lonely, knowing with a sudden certainty that this time when Fletcher left Melbourne he would be walking out of her life. Going back to his own people—where he belonged.

Eventually he hung up and told her softly. ‘I got a cancellation on the 9:00 a.m. flight.’

‘This morning?’ cried Ally in panic. ‘That’s only two hours away.’

‘I’m sorry, Ally, but Jock’s parents—I don’t know that they have anyone to help them deal with this.’

‘Of course, I understand,’ replied Ally, ashamed of her selfish outburst. ‘I’ll make us a pot of coffee.’

Fletcher was still sitting in the lounge chair, staring thoughtfully at a spot on the rug when she returned. He looked up.

‘Smells good.’ He smiled, his blue eyes warming as they linked with hers.

She handed him a steaming cup and then sat opposite him, curling her legs beneath her and hugging the mug of coffee to her chest as if for comfort.

‘I guess this brings back bad memories for you,’ he said gently.

Ally felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. She had told Fletcher just about everything there was to know about her and she guessed that he was referring to her own parents’ death in an aeroplane crash when she was seventeen. But that was not on her mind now. Sad as this accident was, all she could think about was what it meant to her relationship with Fletcher. There was so much she wanted to say, had needed to say all week.

In all the talk and all the passion and happiness they shared, they learned a lot about each other, but they skirted round the truth. They had never discussed their future because the horrible truth was that there was no possible future for them. Fletcher’s biannual visits to Melbourne were hardly the grounds for an ongoing relationship.