whom she would never be enough.
Besides, she was over all that old stuff—the worry of trying to be good enough. It had only been on her mind a little in past months because of the upset with Jack. Everything had gone off-kilter for a while after that.
And there was nothing wrong with wanting to ensure that Colin and Sylvia would be proud of her. Any well-balanced offspring would want that.
Yeah? What about parents loving their children simply because they were their children?
Well, naturally Tiffany believed that, too. But this topic wasn’t even important right now. She forced her thoughts back to her discussion with Jack. ‘Anyway, Ron’s at the farm full time.’
The middle-aged worker provided all the help she required. ‘We made sure things were up to date before Mum and Dad left, and I can still make time to visit with you today. I’ll just catch up later.’
‘Let’s deal with this goat problem, then.’ He turned away, gave her a view of the back of his head, his strong neck and broad shoulders, and the way his ears sat close to his skull.
Jack was beautiful. She’d always known that, but over time she had come to feel it with her senses, too. Just staring into his eyes gave her shivers sometimes. Or if she looked at the way his mouth softened in kindness, or watched him interact with her brothers, her parents.
Tiffany had loved him since she was eight years old, and far more recently had started to fall maybe a little in love with him. Now she had to go back—to put those newer feelings behind her once and for all.
‘Um, yes, let’s get my goat rounded up. She’s over there, watching us from behind that clump of bushes.’ Tiffany pointed to Amalthea’s hiding place. ‘See the beady eye and the bit of white? That’s her.’
‘Your goat?’ He glanced towards the goat’s hiding place.
‘Yes. I bought her to be my personal pet. Her name is Amalthea.’ Tiffany watched the goat watch them, and thought about the many un-pet-like things Amalthea had done so far. ‘To date it’s been a rocky relationship.’
‘Amalthea?’ After a moment, he gave an almost reluctant smile. ‘Ah, yes. That’s the goat goddess who purportedly sustained Zeus with milk. I take it she acts like a goddess, too?’
Tiffany grimaced. ‘She has come across as somewhat goddessy at times. Yes.’
A sulphur-crested cockatoo flew out of the branches of a eucalypt tree. It would have made a good ‘In Flight’ picture, but Tiffany had no time to think about photography right now. She turned back to face Jack.
He began to inch quietly to the right. ‘You go left. We’ll encourage the goat towards the gate. The first one of us near enough can open it to let her through.’
It took a bit of running. Tiffany uttered more than one stifled curse, while Jack seemed to welcome the physical activity. Eventually they got Amalthea back where she should be.
They stood there then, Tiffany and Jack, in front of the gate, facing each other. His body formed a half-cradle for hers, blocked her in against the gate, and she wanted to close the distance between them and have more than a friendly hug.
Did he realise how close they were? What if he knew his closeness still affected her in a way he didn’t welcome?
‘You could stay for dinner. It’s nearly that time now.’ Only after she’d issued the invitation did her thoughts go back to the last time she had invited him to her cottage for a meal.
Heat climbed into her cheeks and she hurried on. ‘I’ve got Mexican rice left over in the fridge, or I could meet you somewhere else if you’d rather. You could invite your mother along, or we could just visit for a while now.’
‘Tiff.’ His hand closed over hers. Regret seemed to fill his eyes for a moment, before he let go and looked away. Then he straightened away from her completely, and she let out her breath in slow increments so he wouldn’t notice she’d been holding it.
Jack’s head tilted to the side. ‘There’s someone coming up the road towards your place.’
Tiffany heard only the pounding of her heart and the cacophony of regret and uncertainty. The sudden wail of a siren, when it came, made her jump. ‘That’s—it’s turned in at the farm gate. They must have run the siren to warn us they were here. It sounded like an ambulance.’
‘We need to see what’s wrong.’ Jack started to stride back towards the footbridge. ‘My Jeep’s parked behind the peppercorn trees. Let’s go.’
When she didn’t immediately follow, instead stood rooted to the spot as she tried to make it add up—ambulance, farm, someone hurt—Jack turned back. ‘You said it’s you and Ron. Would he still be here this late?’
‘It’s possible. He stayed to finish the hoof trimming so I could check the water troughs. We had some delays today that put us behind, and then I had to retrieve goats. I haven’t heard him drive away.’ She murmured the words, and as she did so injury scenarios began to play through her mind.
Quickly, she gathered the tools she’d used to try to fix the fence where the goats had got through, and hurried after Jack.
Once they were in his Jeep he swung the wheel and covered the distance to the farm gateway as quickly as possible. The Jeep barrelled up the lane.
Her breath came in sharp puffs, from a combination of concern and the effect of being near him. Nerves and confusion added to the mix.
The ambulance idled outside her parents’ empty house. The home was being painted, but with the painter gone there was no one to give directions. When Jack pulled alongside, the officers were about to get out of the vehicle.
Tiffany leaned her head out of the Jeep. ‘It has to be Ron. He must have called from the phone in the shed.’ She pointed. ‘We’ll follow you there.’
It took seconds only to arrive at the shed. Tiffany scrambled out of the Jeep. ‘Ron? Ron! Where are you? What’s happened?’
She hurried inside. Ron lay on the floor of the shed, his face ashen, one leg bent at an odd angle.
‘We’re here, Ron. It’ll be all right.’ Jack’s reassurance came from right behind her, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder.
Tiffany registered the warm feeling of his touch and tried not to press back into it. ‘What happened, Ron? I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you.’
‘I’d finished with the last of the goats and let them out of the holding pen. I was about to go home for the day.’ Ron gritted the words out as the ambulance officers crouched to attend to him.
He cast one puzzled glance towards Jack. ‘I knocked a hoof pick down and slipped on the dratted thing. Came down hard and sort of twisted as I landed. I think I’ve broken my leg.’
After a swift examination, the ambulance officers concurred. Tiffany stood still as they questioned Ron, checked vitals, and quickly prepared him for the short journey to the ambulance. With a part of her mind she registered Jack still behind her, his touch a warm feeling of reassurance at her back as the ambulance officers loaded Ron so they could stretcher him to the ambulance.
