What Love Sounds Like (3 page)

‘Un–tle T–ade!’ Tilly leapt off the lounge, her grey eyes shining. He braced himself. Her tiny arms wrapped around his leg in a hug that seemed as though it would never finish. She pulled away and offered him her hand. Horror held him immobile. It was as though her simple gesture was an invitation, a summons.
Come into my world.

His fingers twitched. He could no sooner take her hand than he could let her teddy bears have the picnic she was so intent on arranging in his office. Their worlds couldn’t merge. The only life he’d ever known was an adult one.

Tilly entwined her warm fingers in his. Ms. Windsor stood and smiled at his niece. He forgot Tilly’s hand in his and forgot the prickle of panic crawling over his skin. Ms. Windsor’s smile was the same smile that had stolen his breath in her office. The same true, sweet smile that made him forget where he was, who he was. It was a smile his grandmother had warmed him with a lifetime ago. A smile he wouldn’t ever receive again. He stiffened and slammed the lid shut on his memories. He had a contract to finish and a ward to disentangle from his life. He freed his fingers from Tilly’s grasp.

Ms. Windsor walked toward him. The soft fabric of her shirt clung to her feminine curves. The black trousers silhouetted the swell of her hips, the tapered slimness of her waist. He mentally slapped the back of his head.
Focus.

He extended his right hand. ‘Welcome to Berrilea, Ms. Windsor.’

‘Thanks.’ Her slim fingers gripped his and then slipped from his hold. ‘Please, call me Mia.’

He nodded, blanking out the strange yearning that her smile wouldn’t have faded the instant their eyes met. ‘Mia it is. You had no trouble finding us?’

‘Apart from some kangaroos playing Russian roulette with my car, I had a clear run. I must apologise again for the confusion of last Friday, Dr. Sheldon’s email arrived along with all of his file notes. You can be sure I’m up to speed.’

‘Excellent.’ He glanced at Tilly who’d returned to the lounge to watch television. ‘It’s crucial my niece benefits as much as she can from your two weeks here.’

If possible the temperature of Mia’s gaze dropped. ‘You do remember what I said in my office, don’t you? There’s no quick-fix for a speech delay.’

‘How could I forget?’ He allowed a brief smile to cross his lips. ‘But surely after a fortnight there’ll be an improvement in how Tilly speaks and she’ll be easier to understand?’

‘I’ll make no guarantees. Each child’s therapy experience will be different. What I will say is we’ll work hard toward the goal of Tilly using ‘k’ and possibly the ‘g’ sound correctly.’

Mia mightn’t be wearing any heavy-framed glasses to look over the top of, but her stare was none the less lethal. He didn’t know whether to smile or scowl. In the corporate corridors of Matchtec he was king. He’d forgotten what it was like to be regarded with anything but deference. The novelty would soon wear off.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘to help you reach such a goal I’ve had the music room prepared for your use.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it. I’ve always found an organised and clutter-free work space crucial in maximising output.’

Yes.’ Laughter illuminated the golden shards of her brown eyes. ‘That pesky middle management can be prone to distraction.’

He rammed his hands on his hips. It also had been a long time since someone had laughed at him. ‘Middle management, it sounds like you know your way around an office?’

‘Something like that.’ The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. ‘Now, just to make everything clear, the work I’ll be doing with Tilly will be play-based.’

‘Play-based?’

‘Yes. Through play Tilly will learn, model and practise the new sounds. It is a documented fact that children learn better when they are having fun.’

‘Fun?’ He tried, and failed, to stop his lip from curling.

‘Yes. Fun.’ She swept a hand toward another plastic crate he hadn’t noticed on the floor beneath the table. ‘I know how you feel about toys but a share portfolio just won’t reap the same benefits as, say, Play-Doh.’

Foreboding flooded him. The second crate was filled to the brim with more items than just whatever Play-Doh was.

‘So knowing you want results, I brought every toy in my arsenal.’ Her saccharine tone suddenly had him craving sugar.

‘Every toy?’

‘Yes. Every. Single. One. Actually, there are another two crates in the car if you would be so kind as to bring them in?’

Frustration burned the back of his neck. Since when did a perfunctory quick meet-and-greet turn into a battle of wills? A battle he was fast losing.

‘Anything to help you get your job done.’ He contented himself with a fierce frown. ‘It goes without saying all toys will stay in the music room.’

Displeasure fired in her eyes but when she spoke her voice remained as silky as the melted caramel in his favourite dessert. ‘Again, I won’t make any guarantees. Tilly’s therapy will be conducted in formal as well as informal settings. But what I will say is we’ll do our best when out of the music room to not…distract you.’

‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,’ he said, lips twisting. ‘Of course, it goes without saying I’m not prone to distraction. I’m upper management.’

‘
Of course
.’

He knew he should check his watch. His five-minute deadline had passed. He had a contract to finish. But he couldn’t look away from Mia’s unwavering gaze or suppress the suspicion that she simply didn’t like him.

He flexed his shoulders. It shouldn’t matter what one opinionated country girl thought of him. It wasn’t relevant that he could have said he was the head of the United Nations and still approval wouldn’t have softened the set of her lips. He really did have work to do. He glanced toward Tilly as she continued to watch television. And so did Mia.

‘Now if all you need to get started are the crates from your car, I’d like to return upstairs to my office,’ he said in his best CEO tone. ‘I believe we both have things to do.’

The sound of Kade’s firm steps faded from the drawing room. Mia released a deep breath. One minute she was doing all she could to not laugh out loud. She’d hadn’t ever heard anything more ridiculous than Kade comparing Tilly’s learning to speak to the handling of middle management. The next, she had to seal her mouth shut to stop words escaping before they’d been sanctioned by her inner editor. She’d never been so close to saying something unprofessional.

She ran a quick hand over her hairspray-cemented hair and checked all her blouse buttons were secure. Physically, every crease and curl had been ironed flat. Her speech pathologist hat was wedged in place. Unlike in her office, her composure wasn’t supposed to be rattled. Her frustration at the uncle of her small client wasn’t supposed to undermine her professionalism.

She lifted the crate from the floor and placed it onto the floral tablecloth-covered table. So much for any doubts that her first impression of Kade may have been wrong. Every impatient inflexion of his voice had confirmed he hailed from a world she’d long ago forsaken. Her hands stilled on the top of the plastic crate. A world that favoured wealth and success over people and especially over family.

She glanced toward Tilly. The little girl’s pale lips were rounded with wonder as animated ponies danced across the television screen. Just like at their first appointment, a sense of connection plucked at Mia’s heart-strings. Thanks to her own speech struggles she always bonded with her clients, but with Tilly her empathy ran much deeper. The common denominator between them was far more than unintelligible words and the loss of a mother as a child. They both occupied the same position on the bottom rung of the priority ladder. Emotion formed a wedge in Mia’s throat. She had to do all that she could to help Tilly survive the inevitable hurt associated with having an emotionally unavailable care-giver. And she’d start now.

Mia selected a folded white cloth from the items in the crate and walked over to Tilly. ‘My rumbling tummy’s telling me it will be morning tea time soon. How about we make some popcorn?’

Tilly’s answering smile shone sunflower bright. She clambered off the lounge, the television show forgotten. Mia shook the white cloth open into a child-sized chef’s hat. Kade could disapprove all he wanted but she wasn’t sentencing Tilly to a clutter-free classroom. She had a far cosier place planned for Tilly’s introductory lesson.

‘Great. Well, the first thing we’ll need is this.’ She popped the chef’s hat onto Tilly’s head. ‘And the second thing…is this.’ Mia returned to the crate on the table to collect a pink and green striped apron. Tilly’s excited giggles failed to drown out the masculine footsteps re-entering the drawing room.

‘I’ve taken the liberty of putting the toy crates in the music room…’ Kade’s voice trailed off.

Mia looked up, the apron dangling from her fingers. ‘Thank you.’

He showed no sign he’d heard her. Instead he looked at Tilly as she skipped around the room, the chef’s hat bobbing upon her head. He took a step away as she neared him. Then his gaze collided with Mia’s. Slate-blue. Arctic-cold.

Not a happy camper.
Her chin angled up.
Too bad.

‘Before you unpack everything…’ He glared at the apron in Mia’s hands as if it concealed a lethal weapon. ‘I’ll take the crates from in here also into the music room.’

‘Thanks, but there’s no need. I’m using them.’

‘Using them?’

‘Yes. Tilly and I are about to start working.’ Mia beckoned at Tilly and she danced to her side. She touched the top of Tilly’s chef’s cap. ‘Please tell your uncle what we’re making for morning tea.’

Tilly grinned. ‘Pop–torn.’

Kade’s brows shot together.

Mia looped the apron over Tilly’s head and knotted the bow at her narrow waist. ‘Yes, pop–corn. Pop–corn.’ She repeated the word slowly for Tilly to again hear.

Mia glanced at Kade. ‘I know you need to return to your office but first could you please tell Tilly what popcorn flavour you’d like?’

‘Flavour?’

‘Yes. You can have either plain, salted, caramel or buttered. Tilly and I will put a bowl outside your door so as to not disturb you.’

He planted his hands on his hips. She stood straighter but even then had to tilt her head to hold his hard gaze. He’d soon discover the more he imposed his will, the more she’d ignore him. She was here for his ward, not to garner his approval.

‘I don’t eat popcorn.’

Beside her, Tilly tensed. Mia placed a reassuring hand in the small of her back.

‘You do now. Let me put it this way. Popcorn equals achievement. The more we make the greater the chance Tilly’s first therapy lesson will be a success.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps I misunderstood the urgency of my purpose here? Perhaps I’ve all the time in the world in which to work with Tilly?’

‘Okay.’ A muscle worked in the plane of his tanned cheek. ‘One bowl.’

‘Only one?’

‘
One
.’

Mia looked down at Tilly to mask a smile. It mightn’t be every day Kade had his wishes thwarted but he’d soon get used to not always having his own way. ‘We’d better make it a big one then, hadn’t we, Tilly?’

Tilly’s blonde head bobbed.

‘Now about that flavour…’ Mia said.

‘Just plain popcorn,’ he said, his lips barely moving. ‘And nothing pink on it.’

‘Done.’ Mia picked up the closest crate and rested it on her hip. She took Tilly’s tiny hand in hers. ‘Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got work to do.’

He didn’t answer or move. He didn’t have to. His set jaw communicated everything Mia needed to know.

She hadn’t seen the last of him today.

HE WAS LONG overdue for a coffee. At least that was Kade’s excuse for coming downstairs the minute he’d clicked
send
on the contract. He could negotiate a million-dollar deal with a steady pulse but one round with Mia and he needed a double-caffeine hit. He lifted the empty mug in his hand so it would be clearly visible. Upper management or not he didn’t want Mia thinking he was in any way distracted.

He walked past the empty music room and his grip on the mug tightened. The crates he’d removed from Mia’s car were how he’d left them. So far things mightn’t have gone exactly to plan but he was a man renowned for his tenacity. He’d also yet to meet his match in the stubbornness stakes. It didn’t matter how much Mia might flaunt the rules, he’d ensure Tilly’s ‘play-based work’ contained more work than play. Order would be established.

He rounded the corner. The smell of fresh popcorn hit him. His blood pressure rocketed. The stakes were too high for Tilly to waste time cooking in the kitchen. At the end of the fortnight she had to be understandable. She’d already been enrolled at a prestigious Sydney preparatory school and he’d short-listed candidates to be her fulltime nanny.

He pushed open the kitchen door and stepped into chaos.

A small machine sat on the bench making an inordinate amount of noise as it spat white balls into a large purple bowl held by Tilly. Mia stood beside her, cheeks flushed. Both concentrated on the machine and didn’t notice his approach. Tilly’s bowl reached its capacity but the machine showed no sign of stopping. Mia quickly lifted a new bowl into place but not before popcorn tumbled from Tilly’s too-full one. Their laughter was barely audible above the racket of the popcorn-maker. Tilly lifted her bowl onto the granite-topped bench. At the last moment it tipped. Mia swung around to help and the bowl that she held beneath the popcorn stream moved. Popcorn pelted onto the kitchen floorboards like a shower of shotgun pellets.

Kade muttered under his breath, grabbed the bowl from Mia and shoved it beneath the flowing popcorn. Two pairs of large eyes fixed on him. He didn’t know who looked more stunned, Tilly or Mia. Then Tilly smiled. Mia didn’t. Instead she smoothed strands of escaped hair behind her ears with one hand and turned off the machine with her other.

An eerie silence descended on the kitchen broken only by a sporadic pop as the last of the corn kernels exploded.

‘Pop–torn,’ Tilly enthused. Smile wide, she bent and scooped up a handful from the floor. She offered it to him as if she were sharing some priceless pirate treasure. He stared at the popcorn. A treasure he had no idea the value of.