It was hardly a question, more a statement, but he nodded anyway. ‘How d’you know?’

‘The rumour mil at Hal am’s was ful of it before I left.’

‘I was part of a team that helped to build an orphanage.’ When he’d read the brochure he’d hoped that building an orphanage would help him forget Kit. And that it would help al ay some of the guilt raging through his soul.

She waved a finger at him. ‘You might like to act al hard and self-contained, Alex Hal am, but I have your number, buddy.’

He went to correct her, to tel her he was hard and heartless and that she’d be wise not to forget it, but before he could get the words out she said, ‘You’re nothing but a great big mushroom.’

That threw him. ‘Mushroom?’

She stared back at him in incomprehension for three beats, and then she chuckled. ‘Oops, marshmal ow. I meant to say marshmal ow. Baby brain, I tel you.’

He grinned. ‘Is this where I point out that hyenas don’t bray?’

‘Of course they do.’

She promptly gave her impression of a braying hyena and Alex almost fel out of his chair laughing.

‘That’s not a hyena, it’s a donkey!’

‘No, this is a donkey.’

When she gave her impression of a donkey, he lurched out of his chair to roar at ful -stretch on the ground. When he opened his eyes again he found himself staring up at an elderly lady.

Her lips twitched as she stepped over him on stil spry feet. ‘So kind of you to vacate your chair for me, young man.’

‘Hi, Grandma.’

Kit’s grandmother! Alex shot to his feet and did his best to dust himself off.

‘Alex, this is my grandmother, Patricia Rawlinson.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Rawlinson.’

‘It’s Patti, dear.’

‘Grandma, this is Alex Hal am.’

‘Ahh…’ Those piercing amber eyes—so like Kit’s

—turned to him again. ‘So you’re Alex. I’ve heard al about you.’

She said it exactly the same way Caro had on his first morning here. The col ar of his polo shirt tightened around his throat. Was she going to threaten him with a meat cleaver too?

‘I hope you mean to do the right thing by my granddaughter and great-grandchild.’

‘I…um…’ Al the fun and laughter Kit had created in the garden bare minutes ago fled now. He had a in the garden bare minutes ago fled now. He had a feeling ‘doing right’ meant more than fixing Kit’s house up.

Those amber eyes gleamed and he didn’t trust them. He didn’t trust them any more than Caro’s spitfire green. ‘I’d eventual y like to see you make an honest woman of my granddaughter.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Kit snorted. ‘The way you let Granddad final y make an honest woman of you on Mum’s twenty-first birthday.’

‘I did say eventual y, dear.’

Kit’s

grandmother

hadn’t

married

Kit’s

grandfather til …

Both Kit and her grandmother laughed at whatever they saw in his face. ‘Relax, Alex,’ Kit ordered, her smile wide enough to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. The woman was a witch!

‘Grandma’s

just

teasing.’

She

tossed

her

grandmother an affectionate grin. ‘Behave, Gran.’

‘You young ones always want to spoil my fun.

Now, Kit, dear, can you explain those extraordinary noises you were making as I came around the side of the house?’

‘I was trying to show Alex the difference between a hyena’s bray and a donkey’s bray.’

‘Hyenas don’t bray, Kit, dear, they laugh. So, how did you get on?’

‘Only Alex can answer that.’

Two sets of identical eyes turned to him for confirmation. His lips final y twitched too. He found himself inclined to warm to Kit’s grandmother for knowing the difference between a laugh and a bray.

And for having eyes identical to Kit’s. ‘She got on perfectly.’

‘Excel ent.’

It struck him that when she’d been a younger woman, Patricia Rawlinson must’ve been very beautiful. She was stil striking now and she had to be at least seventy. Stil , his col ar remained tight around his neck. Hypothetical wal s threatened to close about him. He wanted out of this garden fast.

‘I’l …um…go put the jug on.’ No doubt they had loads to talk about. He edged towards the back door.

‘Hold on a moment, young Alex.’

He almost tripped up a back step. He couldn’t remember anyone ever cal ing him young Alex in his life.

‘I’d like to invite you both to a luncheon next weekend.’

Kit groaned. Alex’s eyebrow lifted. It wasn’t the reaction he’d have expected from her. Images of meat cleavers rose in his mind. Patti might know the difference between brays and laughs, but he’d bet she had a whole lot in common with Caro too.

‘What on earth is this one for?’ Kit asked. ‘And how much wil it cost me?’

‘This one is for breast cancer, dear. A gold coin donation is al that’s required. And I’d appreciate it if you could bring a plate.’

Kit’s eyes danced when they glanced at him. ‘Alex has been threatening to give me cooking lessons.’

‘Oh, darling, if he can cook, why bother learning?’

He’d have laughed if his col ar hadn’t pul ed so tight.

‘I’l definitely come to your luncheon. Alex wil have to be a maybe. It’l depend on whether any deliveries are scheduled for that day. We’ve had a couple of delays.’

His col ar promptly loosened. Kit had given him an out.

A new sick kind of nausea fil ed him then instead.

Maybe she didn’t want him to go to this luncheon.

Why on earth would she? He was going to let her down, wasn’t he? Maybe subconsciously she sensed that?

‘Can I ask Frank and Doreen along? And Caro?’

Of course she’d like to have her friends there. He rol ed his shoulders. Maybe she’d let him tag along too if he helped her bake a cake?

For Pete’s sake! It was only a stupid luncheon.

What did he want with one of those?

‘I saw Frank and Doreen out the front so I’ve invited them already. Caro and co are always welcome.’

Alex thrust himself through the back door, but not before he heard Patti ask, ‘Alex does mean to put your house back together, doesn’t he, dear?’

‘I believe that’s the plan.’

He closed the door and made safe his escape.

That night Alex dreamed he was searching through the endless rooms of that brooding mansion, searching for Chad again, the childish laughter always just out of reach.

And, just like the other times, he jerked awake, drenched in sweat and with Chad’s name on his lips.

CHAPTER TEN

ALEX dunked his paintbrush into the can of paint and set about slapping it on the neatly sanded, newly primed weatherboards of Kit’s cottage. White paint.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. She had chosen white for the main body of the house and blue for the window and door trims. She’d snorted when he’d presented her with an array of colour cards with exotic names like fresh linen, grey gum, desert sand and sage. ‘I don’t want any of that modern nonsense, Alex. I’ve always wanted a white house with a blue trim. Ever since I was a little girl.

I’m not going to change my mind now.’

And she hadn’t.

So he was painting her house white with a blue trim, and found he was enjoying himself.

Next week he’d paint the interior—white ceilings, cream wal s. She wanted her house light and bright and airy. It was her house. He’d paint it any colour she wanted.

The new shower unit was due to arrive at the end of the week and then he could get to work on the bathroom. Once that was done, al that would be left was the nursery.

His gut clenched and his hand slowed. That would mean looking at baby stuff with Kit, wouldn’t it? He could imagine her face going al soft and misty as she looked at cribs and little blankets and changing tables with colourful mobiles. He dunked his paintbrush in the can of paint again and concentrated on transferring it to the weatherboards.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Kit had a way of making just about anything fun.

Besides, al that baby stuff could be ridiculously expensive. He slapped paint on with renewed vigour.

He had no intention of letting Kit pick up the tab for that.

Kit. The thought of her had images rising through him. His hand slowed, the paintbrush almost coming to a halt. Last night while he’d cooked dinner—a chore they’d taken in turns since the night of their fish barbecue—she’d laid stretched out ful -length on one of the sofas watching TV. She’d reached for the remote on the table behind and the action had stretched her T-shirt tight, giving him an eyeful of her baby bulge—smal , but unmistakable. And perfect.

He hadn’t been able to look away, even when she’d returned to her former position.

Beneath her shirt she carried his baby.

He’d stumbled back into the kitchen, trying to decipher the emotions tumbling through him.

His first instinct had been denial. He couldn’t get emotional y involved with this baby. He’d lost it al once before. He couldn’t go through that again. His second thought had been…

Hope?

Alex swiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and gave up al pretence of painting for the moment. The longer he stayed here with Kit the more it seemed possible that he could do what she wanted of him, be what she wanted—an involved father. The thought made his heart thud against his ribs again, just like it had last night.