‘There’ll be lots of calves for you to help in the future,’ Letty said roundly. ‘We’ll get your leg right first. We’re just lucky William was able to help. We’re very pleased to have you here,’ she said to William. ‘Now, Meg checked the news before she milked and she says the planes are running again. She and Scott checked flights and there are some available. She said to tell you when you woke up. But you don’t want to leave yet, do you?’

‘I…’

Did he want to leave? They were looking at him expectantly. Over in the dairy, Meg was milking, alone.

His world was twisting, as if it was trying to turn him in a direction he hadn’t a clue about.

‘I do need to go,’ he said at last and it was as if the words were dragged out of him. ‘If I help with the milking now, Scott, would you mind making me a list of flights and times?’

‘Today?’ ‘Yes, please.’

‘You really want to leave?’ Scott demanded incredulously, and William thought about last night, thought about holding Meg. Thought about holding Meg again.

If he got any closer…

If Letty had fallen yesterday… If Scotty had been killed in that accident…

If anything happened to Meg…

Do not get close. Do not open yourself to that sort of pain.

‘I don’t want to go,’ he said, striving not to let his voice sound heavy. ‘How could I want to leave Letty’s eggnog? But I do need to get back to Manhattan as soon as possible. So please let me know which flight might be available.’

‘Okay,’ Scotty said and, even if the kid did sound disappointed, William couldn’t let that stand in the way of a decision that must be made.

He headed back upstairs to dress and, as he did, Letty adjusted the sound system. Next on the playlist was Deck the Halls and she turned the sound up even louder.

This place was crazy.

Of course he had to get out of here.


Meg was milking, head down behind a cow. When he reached the yard she didn’t emerge, just kept on doing what she was doing. Killer and the rest of the dog pack greeted him with pleasure but there wasn’t a lot of pleasure emanating from Meg.

That had to be okay by him. Maybe it was even sensible. He ushered the next cow into a bale and started doing what had to be done. He was getting good at this. Where could he use this new skill when he left?

Would he ever milk a cow again?

‘Happy Christmas,’ Meg said at last from behind her cow and he thought she sounded exhausted. Had she slept at all?

He wanted to tell her to go back to bed, that he’d take over. He couldn’t. Yes, he’d learned new skills but he couldn’t milk by himself yet.

If he left today… Would she be milking the cows alone?

‘Happy Christmas,’ he replied at last. Cautiously.

‘The airlines are back. I’m sorry but I didn’t have time to check flights before milking.’

‘Not good enough,’ he growled, trying for a smile, but she stiffened and said nothing.

‘I was joking.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Bad joke.’

‘I’m sorry too,’ she said, straightening and heading out to fetch another cow in. ‘Last night…it should never have happened. It was like… I’d been so worried. It was reaction; nothing more.’

‘It felt like more.’

‘Well, it wasn’t,’ she snapped. ‘Fortunately, the airlines are operating. We’ll see if we can get you a flight out tonight.’

‘What about milking?’

‘What about milking?’

‘Who’s going to do it?’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘I’ve done it alone plenty of times before. It just takes longer.’

‘You’re exhausted already.’

‘Kerrie’s back tomorrow-she’s coming for lunch today so maybe she can even help tonight-and I can sleep in the middle of the day.’

‘And then you need to job hunt.’

‘I believe I’m still employed by you until my contract expires.’

‘So you are.’

‘So I’ll keep the office operating here as my contract specifies. That’ll give me time to find something else.’

They were being absurdly formal, he thought, but maybe formal was the only thing to be.

‘What sort of job do you want?’ he asked.

‘I’m a qualified accountant.’

‘You’ll do accountancy in a provincial city?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘What a waste.’

She didn’t bother responding. She just kept right on milking.

‘You don’t need to keep the office operating,’ he said at last.

‘You can’t dismiss me without notice.’

‘I’m not dismissing you. I’ll pay you till the end of your contract.’

‘Then I’ll work till the end of my contract. I’ve taken enough from you. I can’t take any more.’

‘I’d like to give more.’

‘Like what?’ she said from behind her cow and he thought about it. What would he like to give her?

Money. Security. The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to get up to milk a cow unless she wanted to.

The ability to drop everything and be with Scott when and if he needed further operations. The ability to care for Letty as she needed to be cared for. Financial freedom to call the vet whenever she needed the vet.

Freedom to have a bit of fun.

But this was nothing he could do. He’d given Scott his old cars. He’d given Meg dresses and he’d given them all the satellite dish. He knew without asking that she’d accept nothing else.

So there was nothing more he could do. There was nothing more he should do. As soon as his flight was confirmed, he could walk away and not look back.

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Anything else was way too complicated.

Dogs. Cows.

Family.

‘We’d best get a move on,’ she said across his thoughts. ‘We don’t do Santa until the cows are done and then there’s church and then there’s eggnog.’

‘You don’t do eggnog until after Santa and church?’

‘Not very much,’ she said and managed a smile. ‘Grandma doesn’t tip up the brandy bottle until we’re all safe home.’


Milking finished, William swished the dairy while Meg went to check on Millicent and the brand new Milly. They were standing contentedly in the home paddock, Milly at her mother’s teat, no sign of the trauma associated with her birth.

If she was a hard-headed businesswoman, she’d remove the calf now, Meg thought ruefully as she looked down at the pretty little calf. After the first few hours, when the calf had taken the all important colostrum, efficient dairy practice was to remove the calf and get the cow straight into mass production.

Only neither Letty nor Meg were hard-headed. The calves stayed with their mothers until Letty decreed they were ready to be independent, which lost them milk production but probably made them a healthier herd. Or possibly made them a healthier herd. Or not.

It was a decision of the heart, not of the head.

‘Like me stopping working for William,’ she told Millicent and sat on the edge of the trough while she watched the cow and her new little calf. Killer nosed up beside her and shoved his head against her ribs. She hugged him tight and suddenly she felt like crying.

‘And that’s also dumb,’ she told Killer. ‘Why cry? For that matter, why quit? Working for the McMaster empire’s the best job I’ve ever had. Why can’t I keep on doing it? Why can’t I ignore how I feel about him and get on with it?’

She knew she couldn’t.

He was watching her. He was sluicing the yard but she could feel his gaze. She hugged her dog hard, then straightened her shoulders and rose and tried to look professional, as if she was examining cow and calf as a proper dairy farmer should. In terms of what she could make from them.

Millicent’s eyes were huge and contented and maybe a little bit wondrous. While Meg watched, she started to lick her calf and the little calf kept right on feeding.

Drat, those tears kept right on welling.

‘Happy Christmas, you great sook,’ she told herself angrily and swiped at her cheeks with venom. ‘Get a grip. And stop crying right now.’

She had to stop crying. William was finished in the yard. She should wait for him and walk him back to the house.

He was helping her. It’d be only civil to walk back.

But the feeling of that kiss of the night before was too huge, too raw, too real. It was threatening to overwhelm her.

‘If I head back now I get first shower,’ she told Killer. ‘That’s what a hard-headed, professional dairy farmer should do. And that’s what I am.’

Right.

‘Go fast before he catches up.’

Even more right. Or not.


He’d never seen a Christmas tree like it.

They’d been so busy, William had hardly been in the sitting room until now, but after a second breakfast and a little eggnog-yes, the serious stuff would come after church-Letty bossed them into the sitting room for present opening.

The tree was real but it wasn’t pine. ‘There are no pines here and there’s no way I’m spending money importing one,’ Letty growled, following his gaze. ‘This might not be what you’re used to, but it’s okay with us.’

It was a small gum tree in a vast pot on wheels. ‘We pull it in and pull it out every year,’ Letty said while Meg said nothing. ‘This year’s the last for this tree; she’s getting too big. We’ll plant her out but there’s already a new one coming on to take her place.’

And that made him feel weird as well. The thought of such continuity. A long line of trees, each taking its turn as a Christmas tree before growing to be one of the huge gums that surrounded the farm. Fantastic. And sort of…grounded. Good.

The decorations were great as well, all home-made, some wonderful, some distinctly corny.

‘They date from the time Meg arrived here,’ Letty said proudly. ‘She made paper chains, her mum made the balls and lanterns, then Scotty came along and here’s his kindergarten things…’

‘Grandma…’ Scott said, revolted, and Letty chuckled and tossed him a gift.