The Firefighter to Heal Her Heart. Annie O'Neil
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true—but it was an excuse he’d used all too often for the past few years. They’d spoken on the phone a lot, emails, texts—but the real thing was something he missed. Staying away from his family had been harder than he had thought—but if he was ever going to prove to his father that he could amount to something then complete focus was necessary.
Thank heavens Becca was such a star. She knew everything there was to know about River’s Bend—the crops, the land, their impressive output and, more important, she showed a business acumen that would’ve been as natural a match to the Australian Securities Exchange. He was proud to call her his kid sister, even though the ponytails and plaster-covered knees were a thing of the past.
“You know you’re always welcome. No need to wait for an invitation.”
“I know, Bec. I know.” He let her go and made a little show of wiping away some invisible dust on her shoulders. “Right, well. Best get on to see Old Man River, then.”
“Go gently with him, Jack.” His sister’s voice was loving but held a genuine note of caution. “It’s not been easy for him the past few years.”
“I wasn’t the one who forced me to choose between a life in the CFS or the farm.” He instantly regretted his words when he saw the shots of pain in his sister’s eyes and tried to lighten the atmosphere with a playful boxing move. “At least you came out the winner—running a gold-star winery!”
“This was never about winning or losing, Jack.”
“I know.” He pulled one of her hands into his. “I’m sorry, that was a low blow. You’ve done an amazing job here, sis. Far better than I would have. I mean it.”
He gave her a contrite smile. “Don’t worry, Bec. I’m an older and wiser version of ‘that wild Keller boy.’” He did a spot-on imitation of the town’s former roving police officer and enjoyed his sister’s smile at the likeness.
He didn’t have a record. No. But he did have a history. Nothing horrible, just the usual teenager-gone-off-the-rails sort of stuff that happened when … when stuff happened.
He climbed into the truck, threw a wave at his sister and eased the truck into first gear. “We’ll get that dinner soon, I promise!”
Good ol’ Becca. She really was her father’s daughter, growing up steeped in the station’s quirks and customs. Stubborn as a mule and born to work the land. As a little girl, she was always being retrieved by one of the farmhands from among the vines, where she would spend hours painstakingly setting up her own “wine-tasting” sessions for her dolls. His traditional father had just presumed Jack would take over the business and that his sunny-faced daughter would marry well and be content to enjoy River’s Bend from the sidelines.
As a team, they would’ve made quite a dynamic duo. But life hadn’t panned out that way. The winery was her calling and, after his mother’s death, the CFS had been his. Too bad his father hadn’t seen things that way.
Jack began taking deep, slow breaths. He’d need all the reserves of calm he had to get down the long track past the sleek tasting room, the outbuildings that made up the actual winery, and down the slope into the curved drive fronting the stone expanse of the Keller family home. He may not have spent the past four years here but it was definitely home.
The sprawling three hundred hectares encompassed so much. The eucalyptus-rich expanse of river land he had escaped to as a boy on hot summer days. The exquisitely manicured gardens and orchard where he and Becca had played hide-and-seek. The wooded site near the bridge where they’d spread his mother’s ashes after the fateful out-of-control fire so many painful years ago. The new barn built over the burn site as if it would erase the fact Ava Keller had died there. The same barn where he’d had the final, gut-wrenching fight with his father about choosing the fire service over a life on the land.
He stopped for a minute and let himself take in a delicious lungful of the blossoming vines. Coming home was tougher than he had thought. He’d spent virtually every day here until he was twenty-five. He hadn’t thought jumping between a life as a CFS volunteer and his duties at River’s Bend had been such a wayward existence. But his father had—and had forced him to make his choice.
And he had. He was genuinely committed to the fire service and all it stood for out here in the country. The people out here relied on volunteers to help fight the annual bushfires, pry them out of cars, even rescue the odd kitten—or little boy, as in today’s case. Now he was in a position to make it even better. Without this service people would die. As his mother had. Keeping the local station on the map was essential.
Jack slowed the truck to a stop on the hard, iron-rich earth in front of the house, his father already walking out onto the front veranda as if four years hadn’t passed and he’d been expecting his son to turn up about now.
Jack hated the look of disappointment creasing his father’s face when he saw the uniform.
He would make his father proud. He would understand. One day. He just had to hang on to his principles. Hang on tightly to all he knew was true.
“I’VE GOT TO hand it to you, Kev. This one’s a real corker.” Liesel snapped off her protective gloves and popped them in the bin.
“Thanks, miss!”
“I should’ve known you’d take it as a compliment.” Liesel sent the brand-new teen an admonishing glare, albeit with a twinkle in her eye. “A black eye and a sprained wrist on your birthday hardly give you bragging rights.” She secured the brace on his arm before reaching into the cupboard behind her for a chemical ice pack.
“They are when you finally popped Diggy Reynolds a good one on the nose. You couldn’t have asked for a better present, miss.”
Liesel winced. She’d seen Diggy first. It had been an impressive nosebleed, but thankfully not a break. Deviated septums weren’t killers—but they sure did hurt. She’d have to talk to Cassie about the incident. Again. Kev’s file was now officially the fattest in her cabinet.
Liesel gave Kev her best “harrumph” as she twisted the ice pack, felt the coolness flood through the packet and gently laid it across his wrist. The thirteen-year-old knew just as well as she did that she had a soft spot for him. Even if he was permanently in trouble. She was pretty sure an absent father was the cause, but she was hoping Cassie had things in hand. The counseling training she’d had in Adelaide was setting off all of the alarm bells that Kev was a troublemaker in training.
“Look, you make sure you keep that wrist iced for the next few days, otherwise I’ll tell your mother on you.”
“Tell your mother what, Kevin Alexander Monroe?”
Cassie’s head popped out from around the corner of Liesel’s nurses’ station, lips pursed, eyebrows raised. Liesel quickly sent Kevin a look indicating it was up to him now and then wheeled her chair out of the way as Cassie entered.
“What is it this time, bud?” Her tone was sharp, but Cassie’s face spoke of the volumes of love she felt for her son. “I’ve got a class to start in five minutes and a hot date with a fireman—so you had better tell me that this week’s injury doesn’t need a trip to the CMC.”
Liesel’s attention level shot straight up and, disturbingly, into the a-little-bit-jealous territory as an image of a certain sandy-haired fireman flitted through her mind. Trying her best to quell the heroic poses he was enacting in her imagination, she smiled up at her friend. “A date? You didn’t tell me.”
“Now, now, my little woodland fairy friend.” Cassie laughed, openly pleased she’d piqued Liesel’s interest. “We’ve both got a date with a fireman so don’t look so envious.”
Liesel felt her nose crinkle—her go-to what are you talking about? expression.
“Uh-oh, Miss