The Cattleman's Special Delivery. Barbara Hannay
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board. Eggs, butter, milk, cheese … a plastic container of home-made stewed apple, another of chicken stock …
Watching her, Reece wanted to roar with rage. He’d never felt so furious and so helpless. It was probably just as well he was holding the baby, or he might have shoved an angry fist in these guys’ smug faces. He was so maddened to see Jess treated like this. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances the poor girl had been left in.
When the refrigerator was emptied, Jess came over to him, her face tight and pink, but composed. ‘Thanks for looking after Rosie.’
‘No problem.’
She took her baby from him and hugged her close. ‘At least no one can take you,’ she murmured, dropping a kiss on the little girl’s downy head.
Out in the street her refrigerator was being loaded into a truck and for the first time her eyes brimmed with tears.
Reece’s throat tightened on a painful rock. ‘Will you be able to manage?’
‘Oh, sure. I’ll have this sorted tomorrow.’
He knew she was covering a host of worries, and she didn’t want to admit she was in trouble, which made it hard for him to help.
‘I’ll duck out and get some ice,’ he suggested. ‘Then you can keep things cold in the sink overnight.’
She nodded without quite meeting his gaze. ‘That’s a good idea. Thanks.’ Then she looked up at him, her green eyes shimmering, and she gave him a brave but tremulous smile.
Reece felt as if he’d swallowed razor blades.
The truck was gone by the time he arrived back with a bag of ice. He couldn’t see Jess, but there was a soft light coming from behind the bedroom curtains and she’d left the front door open. He guessed she was settling the baby to sleep, so he entered the flat quietly and glared at the dusty gap in the corner where the fridge had been. Then he placed the ice in the sink and packed the fridge items in with it.
He noticed that the casserole dish was back in the oven and the radio had been turned down low.
Jess came tiptoeing into the room, a finger to her lips. ‘I think she’s down for the count,’ she whispered, and then she picked up the flowers he’d brought. ‘I haven’t even thanked you for these gerberas. They’re lovely, Reece. So bright and cheerful.’
Once again, he felt sure the flowers were totally wrong.
‘I don’t think I have a vase,’ Jess said. ‘I might have to put them in a jug.’
He held up a bottle of wine. ‘While I was out, I decided we could use a drop of vino to go with the chicken.’
Jess brightened. ‘So you still want to stay?’
‘You invited me, didn’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Her smile lingered as she quickly found tumblers for the wine, put the flowers in a green glass jug and set the table with cheery red mats. The bright colours made the fridge-less kitchen seem less depressing.
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