Standing Strong (4 page)

‘Jacqueline, I would wait a lifetime for you,' Damien said tenderly – so tenderly Jacqueline's throat constricted. ‘In fact, I think I already have,' he added.

Tears filled Jacqueline's eyes and her throat swelled.
Shit. He's serious. Oh, my God, I really am being dumped.

Damien shook his head sadly. ‘You mean so much to me. I love you. But so does this town. Look what everyone's done for me. How can I repay them by taking you away?'

‘But … Surely …'

‘Surely there's another way? There isn't, not to keep you as a registered psychologist and here in town – you said so yourself. Please don't cry. We'll be okay. Just … not right now.'

Jacqueline was stunned, speechless, as Damien calmly rolled up the plans spread across her desk and replaced the rubber bands, and then hoisted the joey's pouch back onto his chest, all the time being careful not to meet her gaze.

‘I guess we'll see you around,' he said with a shrug and wan smile. ‘Come on, Squish.' The dog hopped off the chair with a little groan and trotted after his master.

Damien turned at the open door and paused. Jacqueline could see his eyes were filled with tears. Her heart lurched. But a moment later the door closed quietly with a metallic clunk.

Jacqueline yearned to have someone wrap their arms around her. She brought her hands to her face as if to keep the emotion at bay. She expected a flood of tears, but it didn't happen. Her whole chest was a painful ache, and she was so heavy she felt glued to her chair.

But as she sat there taking it all in, turning it all over, she realised she felt a little relieved. Gradually the feeling intensified into enormous gratitude and incredible awe towards Damien. He'd put aside his own feelings for the town, put her career ahead of his own happiness. God. Jacqueline knew there was no way she would have had such courage. She only hoped she'd find some way to be able to wait for him. Two years seemed a very long time.

She dragged the resignation letter from her in-tray and stared at it for a split second before poking it into the small shredder under her desk.

Chapter Four

Damien, settled in the safety of his ute, gripped the steering wheel hard. He took a few deep breaths to ease his painfully thudding heart. It had taken every ounce of his being to keep putting one foot in front of the other across the car park and not turn and run back to Jacqueline, take her in his arms and say he'd made a terrible mistake.

But he hadn't made a terrible mistake. No, definitely not. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for a greater good. And Jacqueline was good for this town; look how much she'd helped him. He couldn't deny others that just to have a relationship with her. And really, if they couldn't survive two years apart, then there would be no forever.

They'd have to avoid each other socially, or else everyone would still think they were properly together and if anyone got wind that they shouldn't be, there'd be trouble. He knew of a number of people in town who didn't have enough to occupy themselves and who would love nothing more than to be responsible for upholding a rule or two, regardless of who got hurt. No, best it got around that they'd split up. Better yet, he could see if Auntie Ethel could put the word out that they'd never really got it together and his announcement at the launch of Esperance was just him getting caught up in the emotion of it all. That might work. He blushed slightly as he thought about how he'd stood up there in front of everyone and declared he and Jacqueline were an item. How bloody embarrassing. He really wished he hadn't done that. Perhaps if he hadn't, he wouldn't be in this predicament. But it was done. And, anyway, Jacqueline wasn't the sort to choose to do the wrong thing. That she seemed to have strong principles and integrity was something he found most attractive about her. And she wasn't exactly ugly, either.

Though he had to admit knowing she was in her little house right across the road from his aunt would make it a damned sight harder. ‘Well, I guess that's that then, Squish,' he said. It was nice of Squish to have the good grace to look sad too. Damien took a deep breath. No point crying over spilt milk, Auntie Ethel would say, though probably not in this situation. ‘God, listen to me; anyone would think I just lost the girl of my dreams. But I haven't. It's just been put on hold temporarily. Put on ice. Yeah, I'll be needing plenty of cold showers.'

Squish looked up and wagged his tail slowly.

‘Well, lots to do,' Damien said, forcing his tone to be upbeat. He owed it to Jacqueline – and himself – to not fall apart. She didn't need to feel guilty for him losing his way again. With a heavy heart, Damien turned the key in the ignition and drove off.

He paused before exiting the car park and shook his head slowly, wondering how she of all people could have made such a big oversight. God, she must have really been shaken up by the events of the past few weeks. He felt a fresh wave of hatred towards Jacob Bolton rush through him. And of course Jacqueline's sudden immersion into the realities of summer in rural South Australia hadn't helped. The poor girl. He liked the idea of protecting her from more stuff, but he couldn't now. That made him feel even sadder than the thought of not sharing a bed with her for the next two years.

He got a fright and waved self-consciously as a white car drove around him to exit the car park on the wrong side of the driveway. He didn't recognise the driver – or the car – about two in three vehicles were white around here. He smiled to himself. In the city the person might have sat behind him and honked and got all hot under the collar. He watched the news and had seen the reports of road rage. Not out here. The only time you'd see two blokes stopped on the road was for a yarn. God, he loved the place, with or without Jacqueline Havelock in his bed or arms.

*

Damien managed to keep himself busy pondering his new venture, and adding notes to his growing Esperance Animal Welfare Farm operational folders. It had struck him on the way home from town that since the joey would never be able to be released into the wild, she really should have a name. He loved the name Jemima. But better than him naming her would be running a competition, which would generate interest and raise the farm's profile. Better yet, if he could somehow raise some funds in the process …

He really should pull his finger out and get into Facebook properly, set up an Esperance page – see if he could get word of mouth going beyond the district. He'd had a Facebook account for ages, but he didn't go on it much. He'd quickly got tired of seeing people writing boring, stupid stuff like what they were having for dinner and where they were at any given time of the day. Who gave a shit if you'd just checked into Maccas at Port Augusta – how was that anything worth writing about?

But if he wanted to get word out about Esperance, he'd have to get on board; he couldn't rely on Auntie Ethel and the people in town to do everything for him. He'd accepted all the friend requests he'd received, and had quite a healthy number – another good thing about a district of fifteen hundred people all knowing each other and taking up a new fad like sheep. It might be quite useful for Esperance. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it right at the start. He wondered about a website. He knew he needed one – what legitimate organisation in the twenty-first century didn't have a website? – but he'd avoided looking into it. He didn't much play well with computers. What he needed was a twelve-year-old he could pay peanuts to, but the Facebook page would be a start. He got out his new laptop and opened Facebook.

At nine-thirty when it was time for bed – well, for a few hours until the next joey feed – Damien was tired and distracted. He hadn't done the page – he'd decided he'd wait until he'd taken some decent photos to put up before launching and bothering everyone with asking them to ‘like' it. With a sigh, Damien made himself a Milo.

‘Well, guys, it's back to the box for entertainment for us,' he said. Squish took it as a cue to stretch out beside him on the bed and get more comfortable, and the joey as a sign it was time to poke her head out of her pouch and rub her face with her paws.

‘Yep, you're right, could be worse,' he said, scratching the tight belly Squish was presenting to him.

He picked up the phone to send a goodnight text to the love of his life before dropping it like a hot potato. It was amazing how quickly a habit could form. He felt stung and decidedly sad when he realised he'd have to wait two years to send Jacqueline another text.

Chapter Five

Jacqueline was getting on with things. She had no option other than to act as if her life was business as usual. Yes, she was sad about Damien, but it was her own doing, and she deserved to suffer at least a little. She felt guilty about what she was putting Damien through and every few minutes, when she wasn't adequately otherwise distracted, had to tell herself he was fine. He'd shown more spine than she had of late. Today, her packed morning of appointments had kept her mind focussed. She'd even remembered to pack her lunch.

Last night she'd busied herself with sorting out a replacement for the car lost in the fire that had destroyed Damien's home. She'd decided it was safer to avoid getting embroiled in any competitiveness between the two car dealers in town and just replace her VW Golf with another from the place in Adelaide where she'd got her original one.

Her dad was going to go in today and choose one for her and sort out all the paperwork. In her late twenties and supposedly an independent woman, she should be doing it herself, but it was quite impossible to do from so far away. Her dad had said he was happy to take care of it, and she secretly thought he appreciated being asked. Taking care of their children was what fathers enjoyed, wasn't it? Especially now he had so much free time on his hands.

It still bothered her that it had taken her parents so long to 'fess up about his arthritis and his plans to scale back his work commitments, but it was really none of her business what they did with their lives. Shockingly, she was actually quite thrilled they were moving to Wattle Creek just as soon as they'd sorted everything out. Perhaps she was growing up properly after all – monumental career blunder aside, of course.

Eileen and Philip were definitely going ahead with doing up the old cottage they'd found next to Damien's property. According to her father, they'd got it for a song. Apparently the few acres with it weren't large enough to be productive and the place had for years been a bit of a thorn in the side of the family who'd owned it.

‘It's a win-win,' her mother had announced in the sort of tone that suggested she'd just learnt some new lingo. They hadn't decided yet if they would go ahead with opening a B&B. One step at a time. They'd renovate the cottage and then see how they felt.

Jacqueline thought they had rocks in their heads even contemplating it. They certainly didn't need the money, and wouldn't. But she supposed Eileen, after a lifetime of being a stay-at-home mother and wife, felt it was her time to do something for herself. And she would be a great host, no doubt about that. She also loved to clean. Jacqueline wished she'd inherited that trait.

She hadn't told her parents about her and Damien. It was more the sort of conversation to be had in person – especially since they'd be here soon enough. Well, that's what she told herself, refusing to accept she was being gutless. When she'd got off the phone to them this morning, she'd been concerned her dad might be in touch with Damien about Esperance. If so, would he tell Philip about the break-up? She didn't think so – they would talk business and Damien would leave it up to Jacqueline to spill the beans to her parents. Not having to tell them would be good but she knew it was, sadly, unavoidable. They'd have to know the full story sometime.

Jacqueline had just finished writing up the notes of her most recent client and was contemplating getting her lunch out of the little fridge when there was a gentle tap on the door.

‘Come in,' she called. The door opened and Ethel's head appeared around it.

‘Are you busy? I figure it's about your lunchtime. Or do you have plans?' she asked.

‘No, no. Come on in.' Jacqueline stood and made her way from behind the desk to give the old lady, her dear friend, a hug. When she did, she didn't want to let go. Since discovering her career hung in the balance, Jacqueline had so craved the comfort of a hug – especially one of Ethel's. Oh God, it felt so good. She really didn't want to let go.

‘Golly. I was only gone a day and a half,' Ethel said with a laugh as she extricated herself from Jacqueline's grasp. ‘Anyone would think you missed me.'

‘I did miss you.'
Like you wouldn't believe
.

‘Right, well, I come bearing zucchini slice and salad. And then buttered date loaf for afters.'

‘Oh, you shouldn't have.'

‘Fiddlesticks. You provide the company – for which I am very grateful – and I'm only too happy to provide the food,' Ethel said, starting to lay a red and white gingham tablecloth across Jacqueline's empty desk. Ethel dropping in had become a bit of a ritual for them, starting as morning tea to welcome Jacqueline while she was finding her feet. Now she had so many more clients, Ethel kept any visits to lunchtime. And today, her timing had been impeccable as always. Jacqueline's lunch of leftover chicken risotto could wait another day.

‘God, you're a sight for sore eyes,' Jacqueline said, letting out a deep sigh as she accepted her plate of food and cutlery wrapped in a linen napkin that matched the tablecloth. Shit, she hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

Ethel paused with her plate suspended and scrutinised Jacqueline sitting across from her. ‘Why, what's happened?'

‘Nothing, just a lot on,' Jacqueline said, trying for dismissive, even waving her bound cutlery for effect. ‘Dad's sorting out my car,' she babbled in an effort to distract Ethel, who rarely missed anything. ‘I'm just going to replace the hatch. It's easier than dealing with the politics of choosing one car dealer over another.'
And I don't need to consider a small four-wheel drive now there's no Damien and me and no back and forth to his farm
. That was the reason she hadn't rung the VW dealership straight away, she now remembered.