Runaway Wife

“Why did you do that?” He was surprised and rather perturbed by her gesture.

“I don’t know. Reflex action. I’m not a very brave person, I’m afraid. Sometimes panic rises up inside me like a flock of birds.” As she spoke she looked towards the noisy galahs.

“You’re like me. At this point in our lives we need the vastness of the Outback to breathe in. Speaking of music, the highly persuasive Harriet Crompton—that’s the town school-teacher—”

“I know Harriet. Sarah introduced us. She’s quite a character.”

“She is.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “Dear Harriet drafted me into the town orchestra. I play cello in the string quartet as well.”

“Do you really?” She turned in her chair to stare at him.

“Why the arched brows, miss?”

“I thought you looked a little like Beethoven,” she teased. “No, seriously, I look on your playing with the orchestra as wonderful. It’s just that you seem a very physical man—as in action. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find out you’d been a commando in your other life.”

He grunted wryly. “I can’t believe the number of guesses you’ve had. I told you I’m a wood worker. I’ll make you something, if you like. A chair. A table. A jewellery box. Did you bring your diamonds, emeralds and pearls? I bet you’ve got them.”

“Why ever would you say that?” Her voice shook slightly.

“Whatever you’ve been, Laura, you weren’t broke.”

She let her long hair slide forward to hide her profile. “It’s really weird, the way we’re talking so freely, don’t you think? We only met an hour or so ago.”

“Don’t let that bother you. The truth is people have always come to me with their troubles.”

“I’m not telling you mine.”

“Not even the first chapter? Clearly you don’t know how to choose boyfriends. Why in hell are you running anyway? Won’t he take no for an answer?”

“Be nice. Get off the subject,” she begged.

“Okay. Providing we can continue at another time. You’re not dieting, are you?”

“Good grief, no. Can’t you see? I ate the sandwiches.”

“Then 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?”