ma’am.’ He moved without haste, picking up the shopping bags that had housed the paper chains. Crossing the room, he dropped them into one of the cartons and, when he looked at her again, his eyes were as hard and cool as ice. ‘You can’t let up, can you, Ellie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re determined to make this hard for both of us.’
‘I’m not trying to make it hard,’ she snapped defensively. ‘It is hard.’
‘Yeah? Well, you’re not the only one finding it hard. And it doesn’t help when you make it so damn obvious that you can’t stand the sight of me.’
Ellie smarted. ‘How can you say that?’
‘How?’ Joe looked at her strangely, as if he thought she’d lost her marbles. ‘Because it’s the truth. It’s why I left four years ago.’
No! The protest burst on her lips, but she was aware that Jacko had stopped playing. He was standing very still, clutching his teddy bear, watching them, his little eyes round with worry.
They were fighting in front of him, which was terrible—the very last thing she wanted.
‘If we’re going to survive this Christmas,’ Joe said tightly, ‘you’re going to have to try harder.’
Ellie felt her teeth clench. ‘I know how to behave. I don’t need a lecture.’
‘Well, you certainly need something. You need to calm down. And you need to think about Jacko.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘This atmosphere can’t be good for him.’
How dare you? Of course she was thinking about Jacko.
Ellie was stung to the core. Who did Joe think he was, telling her off about her parenting? Was he suggesting she was insensitive to Jacko’s needs? Joe, who hardly knew the boy?
She was Jacko’s mother. She knew everything about her son—his favourite food, his favourite toy and favourite picture books. She knew Jacko’s fears, the times he liked to sleep, the way he liked to be cuddled.
She’d been through his pregnancy on her own, and she’d given birth to him alone. She’d raised Jacko from day one, nursing him through colic and croup and teething. Later, chickenpox. Jacko’s first smile had been for Ellie alone. She’d watched him learn to roll over, to sit up and to crawl, to stand, to walk.
Around the clock, she’d cared for him, admittedly with Nina’s help, but primarily on her own.
She and Jacko were incredibly close. Their bond was special. Incredibly special.
How dare Joe arrive here out of the blue and start questioning her mothering skills?
Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. Tears of hurt and anger. Scared she might start yelling and say things she’d regret, she turned and fled from the room.
* * *
Damn. What a stuff-up.
As Ellie hurried away, Jacko stared up at Joe with big, sad blue eyes. ‘Mummy crying.’
Joe swallowed the boulder that jammed his throat. Why the hell had he started a verbal attack on Ellie? This was so not the way he’d wanted to behave.
How do I tell my two-year-old son that I’m the reason his mother’s crying?
Anxiety and regret warred in Joe’s gut as he crossed the room to the boy and squatted so they were at eye level. ‘Listen, little mate. I’m going to go and talk to your mum. To...ah...cheer her up.’
Joe had to try at least. It took two to fight. Two to make peace. He had to pull in his horns, had to make an effort to see this situation from Ellie’s point of view.
‘I need you to be a good boy and stay here with Ted.’ Joe dredged up a grin as he tickled Jacko’s tummy.
Obligingly, Jacko giggled.
The kid was so cute. Already Joe knew it was going to be hard to say goodbye.
‘How about we hide your bear behind the curtain over there?’ he suggested, pointing to the floor-length curtains hanging either end of the deep sash windows that opened onto the veranda. He showed Jacko how to hide the bear behind them, just as they had with the cushions, and the little boy was thrilled.
‘Ted!’ he squealed, astonished by the big discovery when they lifted the curtain. ‘Do it again, Joe!’ At least he was all smiles again.
‘You have a go at hiding him,’ said Joe.
Jacko tried, frowning carefully as he placed the bear behind the curtain. Once again, he lifted the fabric and saw the bear, and he was as excited as a scientist discovering the Higgs boson particle.
‘OK, you can play with him here,’ Joe said. ‘And I’ll be back in a tick.’
‘OK.’
Reassured that Jacko would be happy for a few minutes at least, Joe went in search of Ellie.
ELLIE STOOD AT one end of the long front veranda, elbows resting on the railings, staring out at the waterlogged paddocks. The rain had actually stopped for now, but the sky was still heavy with thick, grey clouds, so no doubt the downpour would start again soon.
She wasn’t crying. She’d dried her tears almost as soon as she left the lounge room and she was determined that no more would fall. She was angry, not sad. Angry with herself, with her stupid behaviour.
She’d been determined to handle Joe’s return calmly and maturely, and when he’d been forced to stay here she’d promised herself she would face that with dignity as well. Instead she’d been as tense and sharp-tongued as a cornered taipan.
She was so disappointed with herself, so annoyed. Why couldn’t her behaviour ever live up to her good intentions?
You make it so damn obvious that you can’t stand the sight of me.
Did Joe really think that? How could he?
It seemed impossible to Ellie. The sad truth was—the sight of Joe stirred her in ways she didn’t want to be stirred. She found herself thinking too often about the way they used to make love.
Really, despite their troubles, there’d been so many happy times, some of them incredibly spontaneous and exciting.
Even now, irrationally, she found herself remembering one of the happiest nights of her life—a night that had originally started out very badly.
It had happened one Easter. She and Joe were driving down the highway on their way to visit her mum, but they’d been so busy before they left that they hadn’t booked ahead, and all the motels down the highway were
