Runaway Wife. Margaret Way
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eat the cakes. They cost good money and I’ve no intention of throwing them away.”
“All right, then.” She picked up one of the little home-made cup cakes. “Have you finally found your role?” She glanced mischievously at him out of the side of her green eyes.
“As in big brother?” he asked sarcastically. Far better to treat her that way. “I feel almost geriatric beside you.” She carried with her the innocence and freshness of spring.
“At thirty-seven, thirty-eight?”
“I stopped being young long ago,” he said too bluntly.
“Now, when you’re finished I think we ought to hit the Trading Post. They sell new furniture as well as old.” He raised a quizzical brow. “How do you intend to pay for it all?”
“Why?” She raised an anxious face, always worried about endangering herself, bringing Colin after her.
“So I can be sure the name on your credit card matches the name you told me. Laura Graham.”
“I can pay in cash.”
“Cash?” His deep voice slid dismally. “Surely you’re not carrying around lots of cash?”
“Hey, cash will do.”
“Don’t you have credit cards? It’s illegal for banks to give away private information.”
“Surely people can find out anything if they want to?”
He shook his head, staring into her face, past and beyond it. “Why don’t you tell me all about it on the way home?”
“No thank you, big brother,” she joked. “You mustn’t worry about me.”
“On the contrary, I might have to.” He disposed tidily of the café’s take-away boxes and paper cups. “If for no other reason than you’re going to be my next-door neighbour.”
“There’s something comforting in that,” she said, feeling safer than she had at any time since she’d lost another big, strong man radiating kindness and authority. Her father.
Picking out furniture proved to be the greatest fun. They wandered through the store, which was divided into two sections—Used and New Furniture—debating what would go where. Evan must have called in on the Lawsons, the owners of the cottage a few times, she reasoned, because he had an exact knowledge of the layout and dimensions of the various rooms.
“Yah goin’ house-huntin’, little lady?” The salesman, a lanky laconic middle-aged man, followed them around, wedging himself between Laura and every piece of furniture she particularly wanted to see.
“I’ve found it.” She smiled pleasantly.
“The young lady will be renting the Lawsons’ cottage for a while,” Evan intervened. “Don’t worry about showing us around, Zack. We’ll wander about, then get back to you when we find what we like.”
“Sure thing, Evan,” Zack said cheerily. “Listen, I got folks wanting those carved armchairs you’ve been makin’. They were real successful. You sure are a gifted guy, what with playin’ the cello and all. Me wife keeps tellin’ me it’s so romantic; I think I’ll go back to playin’ my ukelele. Might fill in a few evening’s. Reckon I could sell anything you cared to make. We’ve never had a cabinet maker anythin’ like you,” he added fervently. “Folks around here just love yah designs. Reckon yah could put the price up easily without goin’ over the top. Folks would be willin’ to pay.”
“I’ll think about it, Zack. And thanks for the nice compliments.”
“We’re partners, ain’t we? You make. I sell. Tell yah somethin’ else. Folks love yah boxes. Sold the last one to Tessy Matthews for her weddin’ chest.”
“That’s great! Had I known it was for her wedding chest she could have had it for nothing.”
“Folks don’t treasure what they get for nuthin’,” Zack maintained.
“You’re a smart, smart man, Zack.” Evan laughed, steering Laura through the archway that led to the secondhand section.
“You get along with him okay?”
“Why not? I’ve never had any trouble getting along with people. Even very difficult people.” He remembered the number of men holding guns he had interviewed. Some genuine patriots. Others a bunch of fruitcakes.
“Yet you’ve earned the reputation of being something of a loner.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “Difficult to sustain when the young women of the town are on a crusade to draw you out?”
“Who told you that, precisely, Laura?”
“I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Indeed, she had noted the curiosity and interest as they moved amid the smiling sea of faces. probably they were already an item of hot gossip in the coffee shops, with a dazzle of gazes through the colonial windows. “Harriet mentioned it as well, if I’m not telling tales.”
“Harriet’s a throwback to everyone’s slightly astringent favourite aunt.” Evan grinned. “So, Harriet told you there are women anxious to enjoy my company?”
“I like being with you,” she pointed out, as though that were entirely reasonable. “You’re bracing and kindly.”
“Hell, I’m not your goddamn grandfather,” he retorted. “You seem to prize kindliness in a man above all else.”
“Every woman wants a man who will be kind to her and her children,” Laura answered, very seriously indeed.
“And you’re worried that your boyfriend isn’t a great choice for life?”
“Correct,” There was pain and sorrow in it.
“But you miss him already?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr Thompson,” she retaliated. “If you answer truthfully my lips are sealed. Are you married?”
“Never. Not once.” He looked directly at her.
“How come?”
“For a lot of years of my life I never knew where I was going to wake up.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” She’d already sensed he was a man of adventure.
“On the move, Laura. I’ve travelled the world.”
“As a wood worker?” she queried dubiously.
“When I could find the time.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
“Miss what?” He bent to examine a small desk. A few scars. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
“Whatever you did. I’m not so totally inexperienced I can’t see you were personally acquainted with danger.”
“So much for my tight cover.” he mock-growled.
“You won’t always live here, will you?” she persisted, accepting the powerful natural attraction of him.
“No more than you. In fact I marvel at the fact you found your way out here. This is truly the Outback, the Never Never, the Back of Beyond.”
“I love it already,” Laura said, her lovely face dreamy. “The peace, the freedom, the vastness. I’ve decided I’m going to walk every inch of the Simpson Desert,” she joked. “Maybe I’ll take a pack of camels, like that wonderful woman author. I can’t remember her name at the moment, but I was fascinated by her book.”
“Robyn Davidson. The name of her book was Tracks. It’s an account of her 1700-mile journey across Australia with camels. It won her an award.”
“You’re very knowledgable.”