A place called Hope

Hayley Sorenson uses horses to help people heal. But when neighbor Adam Banks asks for her expertise with his teenage daughter, she says no. How can she get involved when all she sees is their past? And the attraction Hayley feels for Adam makes her anything but objective!

Yet Adam isn’t deterred, and in getting to know the woman they call the horse whisperer, he realizes that she’s dealing with her own pain. As Hayley etches a place in Adam’s heart, all he wants is to give her the home she truly deserves.

Adam’s deep voice betrayed nothing but sincerity

So much generosity was overwhelming, especially in the face of her standoffishness. “It’s kind of you but I can’t accept.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

Hayley’s hand hovered over the key in the ignition, itching to turn it. She didn’t have a good reason. But she had her pride. “You don’t even know me and you’re inviting me to live in your cottage.”

“Not knowing you is all the more reason to keep a close eye on the therapist who’s treating my daughter. What do you say? You’d, of course, be free to come and go, and do whatever you normally do.”

It was so tempting. Her garage would be cold and dark even with candles. But accepting would mean admitting she was a stone’s throw from being homeless. “No. Thank you, but no.”

“Why not? It makes sense. I have this big house and a cottage and you’re toughing it out in a garage.”

Ah, he felt guilty. Why should she care? His guilt wasn’t her problem.

Dear Reader,

In the summer of 2009, my home state of Victoria was caught in the grip of devastating bushfires known as Black Saturday. People not from Australia might think the term “bush” means small bushes, but it can also mean the forest. The toll from Black Saturday was horrendous: one hundred and seventy-three human lives were lost and over two thousand homes destroyed, plus countless livestock and wildlife.

Home to Hope Mountain isn’t about death and destruction, though. It’s about survival and recovery and the resilience of the human spirit. It’s about the ability of the land to regenerate. And about a small community that pulls together to put the tragic past behind them and rebuild their lives. It’s about the power of love to heal and to renew hope for the future.

Although I’ve drawn on stories of the bushfires, neither the town of Hope Mountain nor any characters or their experiences are based on real places or people.

The Horses For Hope program is real, however, and does amazing work for people suffering from a variety of mental health issues. It was this program and not the fires that was the inspiration for this book. I hope I’ve done the program, and the amazing bond between horses and humans, justice in my portrayal. I’ve taken liberties with the program’s method of funding for plot purposes. Any other inaccuracies are inadvertent.

Thanks to Colin Emonson for answering my many questions and explaining how the therapy works. For more information go to www.horsesforhope.org.au/.

I love to hear from readers. To drop me a line, or to find out more about my books, go to www.joankilby.com.

Warm regards,

Joan Kilby

Home to Hope Mountain

Joan Kilby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When Joan Kilby isn’t writing her next Mills & Boon Superromance title, she loves to travel, often to Asia which is right on Australia’s doorstep, so to speak. Now that her three children are grown, she and her husband enjoy the role reversal of taking off and leaving the kids to take care of the house and pets.

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To the victims, human and animal, of bushfires.

To the brave firefighters and emergency workers who put their lives on the line in times of extreme danger.

And to the survivors who rebuild their lives with courage and hope.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

CHAPTER ONE

ADAM BANKS DROVE down his winding, rutted driveway while his fourteen-year-old daughter, Summer, nodded to music only she could hear through the earbuds dangling beneath her long red hair.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy of eucalyptus. Birds warbled and twittered above the smooth purr of his vintage Mercedes-Benz. The open window let in a cool breeze that held just a hint of spring.

When he came to the road he looked both ways then began to pull out.

“Look out, Dad!” Summer yelled.

A horse and rider crashed through the forest and shot past right in front of him.

Adam slammed on the brakes and swore under his breath. “I saw her. Did she see me?”

The blonde woman on the dapple gray hauled on the reins, struggling to control the fiery horse. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. My horse has some issues.”

Adam stuck his head out the window, his heart still racing. He’d damn near run her down and the shock of it made him rude when he wouldn’t normally be. “Looks to me like you’re the one with the problem.”

Her cheeks flushed and her full mouth set as she straightened her Akubra hat atop her fraying braid. The horse danced and sidestepped on the gravel shoulder until the woman dug her heels into its heaving sides, and they both plunged back into the woods.

“Who the hell was that?” Adam wondered aloud as he drove off. He glanced into the forest, but the woman and her horse had already disappeared.

“Our neighbor, Hayley Someone.” Summer pressed her nose to the window and gazed longingly after the horse.

“Hayley Someone needs to learn to ride.” Adam gripped the wheel with both hands and scanned the road ahead for runaway horses.

“If she couldn’t ride, she would’ve fallen off when her horse reared,” Summer said. “She and her husband used to give trail rides. Mum’s been on them. But Hayley’s husband died in the bushfires, so I don’t know if Hayley’s still doing the rides.” She paused. “Did you see scars all down her horse’s neck? I wonder if that was from the fire?”

“Could be, I suppose.” Adam had too much on his plate to be distracted by the locals. After he dropped off Summer at school he was heading into the city to meet with the Shanghai delegation about the development project the architecture firm he worked for was bidding on.

“Dad?” Summer turned to him. “I want another horse.”

“We’re not talking about this now, sweetheart. I told you I’d think about it.” She’d been after him all weekend—horse, horse, horse—till he thought he’d go mad.

“Huh.” Summer readjusted her earbuds and slouched down in her seat, allowing him to spend the rest of the twenty-minute drive going over his presentation in his mind.

Adam pulled up in front of the high school and let the car idle while Summer gathered her backpack. “Can you get the bus back to the house after school?”

“I do all the time.” Summer got out of the car.

He’d only been in Hope Mountain since Friday and wasn’t familiar with her routine. “Okay, well, do you have your key? An umbrella in case it rains?”

“I’ll be fine.” She poked her head back in through the open door, her red hair swinging. “So, have you thought about it?”

“About what?” Adam glanced at his watch. He should have been on the road to Melbourne by now. The team from Shanghai was arriving at 10:00 a.m.

“Me getting another horse.”

“You only asked me fifteen minutes ago.” He shouldn’t have promised to think about it when he had no intention of getting her one. “I’m sorry, Summer, but the answer has to be no.”

“Why?”

He honestly felt badly for his daughter—her horse, Bailey, had died in the bushfires that had swept through the area nearly a year ago. But he had to stand firm. “It’s not a good time.”

“Why, just because you say so? I’m supposed to accept that?”

He tugged at a lock of her hair in a vain attempt to wipe the scowl off her face. “Who’s this sullen teenager and what have you done with my sweet-natured daughter?”

She didn’t crack a smile. “Please, Dad, not another one of your stupid jokes.”

“Hmm, tough audience.” Being a single father was tough, too—much more difficult than he’d expected, and he’d only been at it a couple of days. Reiterating his primary reason, that he wanted to put the house up for sale at the end of the year, would only spark another argument. “Everything’s up in the air. We’ll talk about it later.”

“You always say that.”

“Honey, I have to go to work—”

“You and your work. I guess it’s more important than me!” She slammed the car door.

“Summer! Don’t leave like that.”

She was already halfway up the path to the school. Her friend Zoe, a tall dark-haired girl, was waiting for her, no doubt with a ready ear for Summer’s tale of hardship.

Adam sighed and put his car into gear, easing out of the drop-off zone and onto the street. He drove slowly through the three-block-long commercial end of tiny Hope Mountain.

Sun broke fitfully through the clouds above the mountains enclosing the narrow valley. Trees lining the wide street were budding, and daffodils were springing up in newly planted flower beds. The setting was picture-postcard pretty.

But Hope Mountain was far from idyllic.

The entire mountainside to his left was black and ruined. The remains of burned trees looked like giant charred toothpicks. The community center had burned to the ground, along with the pub, a church and half the businesses on Main Street, leaving empty, barren lots. In the public gardens a huge tent had been set up to distribute donated household goods to people who’d lost everything.

Near the rose garden workmen were erecting a memorial to the people who’d died—nearly two hundred souls. Did they really need such a reminder when the evidence was all around that Hope Mountain was in a region of high fire danger?

The place had been nearly wiped off the face of the map, yet the sounds of nail guns and saws rang out in the clear mountain air, as the townsfolk were determined to rebuild.

More fool them.

The narrow winding road out of town led down the mountain, through more burned-out forest. Twenty miles later, at Healesville, he took the turnoff to Melbourne. Only as he accelerated onto the freeway entrance and set course for the city did he breathe easily.

Three hours later he was wrapping up his presentation to the delegation from Shanghai. Lorraine, his boss, was seated at the end of the boardroom table along with five men and one woman, all in identical gray suits.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our firm’s vision of the luxury high-rise apartments in the Changning district of Shanghai,” Adam said. “Please, take all the time you need to review our brochure. I’m available to answer your—” he broke off as his phone vibrated inside his pants pocket “—questions any time.”

The damn phone had rung five times in the past half hour. He’d ignored it until now, but it wouldn’t stop.

“Excuse me. I’ll just be a moment.” He threw Lorraine an apologetic glance and hurried out of the room. Shutting the door, he answered his phone. “Yes, what is it?”

“Mr. Banks? This is Tom Dorian, the principal of Summer’s school.”

“What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

“No, she’s fine. Well, not fine, but...I’d like you to come in. She’s been caught shoplifting.”

“Shoplifting? Summer?” He barked out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s not possible.”

“She was caught red-handed by the owner of the shop.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. This couldn’t be happening. And yet it was. Did he even know his daughter anymore? “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

An hour later, the company helicopter set down on the rain-wet grass of the high school football field. Adam ducked beneath the whirring rotors, his long stride breaking into a jog as he neared the front doors of the school.

Summer had never been in trouble before. Ever. She was a good student, sweet-natured—this morning’s tantrum aside—obsessed with boy bands and horses...typical in every way. She’d had a rough year, with the divorce and the bushfires, but she’d never given him or Diane, his ex-wife, a moment of worry.

Until now.

Adam smoothed his hair and straightened his tie as he rushed to the principal’s office.

A secretary looked up from her computer. “Good morning. Do you have an appointment, Mr.—?”

“Adam Banks. I’m expected.” Through the open door of the principal’s office he saw Summer sitting with her back to him, her shoulders slumped.

He swept past the secretary, knocked once and pushed open the door. “Summer, honey, what’s going on?”

His daughter swiveled on her chair and greeted him with a blank expression and a shrug.

“I can fill you in, Mr Banks.” Tom Dorian was round and slightly sweaty, with short, dark hair. He rose and extended a clammy hand, then walked around to close the door before returning to his desk. “Please, sit down. I’m sorry to have interrupted you at work, but I had no choice. The shopkeeper is talking about pressing charges.”

Pressing charges. The words were enough to strike fear into the heart of any parent. Frowning, Adam took the chair next to Summer. She avoided his gaze and picked at the cuticles of her ink-stained hands. “Summer, what did you steal, and from where?”

Again, she just shrugged.

“A pair of earrings from the Gift Shop Café.” Tom Dorian laced pudgy fingers over his desk blotter, his earnest, boyish face serious. “It happened around 11:30 a.m. She was also skipping school.”

Adam rested a hand gently on Summer’s shoulder. “Is this true?”

“So I cut school. Big deal.” She shrugged his hand off.

“Not that. Shoplifting. Is this about the horse?”

“I wanted something for Mom’s birthday and I didn’t have any money.” She raised her chin and stared at him. His heart sank—now she was lying, too. She received a generous monthly allowance, and her mother’s birthday had been two months ago.

“We’ll talk about that later.” How had she sunk to such a low point without either him or Diane noticing? Behind Summer’s defiance he sensed her fear and heard her unspoken plea: Daddy, get me out of here.

He turned to the principal. “What happens now?”

“You need to go to the police station and talk with the arresting officer,” Tom said. “Since it’s a first offense the shopkeeper might let it go. But even disregarding this incident, Summer’s been on a slippery slope. As you know, her attendance is poor, her grades are falling—”

“No, I didn’t know,” Adam said sharply.

“Summer’s mother didn’t mention it to you?”

“She had to leave in a hurry. Summer’s grandmother is having emergency heart surgery in Sydney.” That didn’t explain why she’d never told him Summer was having trouble at school, but that was Diane all over—ignore problems and hope they would go away. “How long has this been going on?”

“Her problems have been gradually building since the beginning of the school year.” Dorian paused. “The bushfires affected a lot of students. It’s been a difficult time.”

The bushfires again. They were an unmitigated tragedy. Along with the human life lost, hundreds of homes had been burned, livelihoods destroyed and untold numbers of livestock and wildlife killed.

He’d never wanted to buy Timbertop, the two-story log home on five acres of mixed forest and pasture. Diane had fallen in love with it on a whim after spending a weekend up here with her girlfriends, riding horses. He’d purchased the property as a summer home in an attempt to save his rocky marriage but not a month later he’d found out she was having an affair. He didn’t know who with and he didn’t care. It had been the last straw. He’d asked Diane for a divorce, and she’d moved herself and Summer permanently to Hope Mountain.

However, things could have been a lot worse for them. Compared to some others, they had hardly been touched by the fires. “But our house was spared, thanks to the efforts of volunteer firefighters...” he said, still searching for answers as to why his daughter’s behavior had deteriorated. “No close friends of Summer’s were killed—”

“My horse died!”

Adam dragged a hand through his hair. “Bailey. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Bailey had presumably jumped the fence, terrified by the smoke and heat, and run into the woods. They’d never found the horse, or his remains, but undoubtedly he’d succumbed to the fire.

“And stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here.” Summer bounded to her feet. “Not everything is about the freaking bushfires.”

“Sit down and tell me what it is about, then,” Adam said.

She sank back into her chair and crossed her arms and legs, folding into herself. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re never around.”

The barb hit home. He was supposed to have Summer every second weekend, but for the past few months work had gotten in the way. He’d told himself he was doing his best in a bad situation. The fact he didn’t have a clue what was going on in his daughter’s head right now sent a message as big as skywriting that his best wasn’t good enough.

Adam was used to being in control of his world, moving with ease among architects, businessmen and government officials, designing and selling development projects worth hundreds of millions. Faced with one troubled teenage girl, he felt as helpless as a newborn kitten.

This was his daughter, his only child. She was the most precious thing in the world to him. And yet no one would guess it, considering how little time he’d spent with her. Diane going to Sydney to take care of her sick mother might have been a blessing in disguise, since it forced him to reconnect with the girl.

“What do you suggest?” he asked Tom. “Is there a school counselor she could talk to?”

“I’ve been seeing her for three months,” Summer said sulkily. “She’s an idiot.”

“Don’t be rude. Why wasn’t I informed?”

She shrugged. “Mom probably told you.”

“Where parents are divorced, school policy is to communicate with both mother and father,” Tom Dorian explained. “A letter would have been sent to your city address as well as your home in Hope Mountain.”

Adam chewed his bottom lip. Somehow he’d overlooked the communication. News of Summer’s downward slide had slipped through the cracks in his life. He and Diane had both failed Summer. But guilt and shame were unproductive emotions. He thrust them aside and focused on what he could do to make up for his neglect.

“So school counseling isn’t working.” He eyed Summer thoughtfully. “Maybe it would be best if we moved to my apartment in the city. I’d have more time to spend with you and we could find you a good private counselor.”

And they could get out of Hope Mountain. Living in a fire-prone wilderness was foolish in the extreme. Next time fire broke out they might not be so lucky.

“I don’t want to live in the city,” Summer said. “I don’t want to see another stupid counselor. You said I could get a new horse. I’ve been waiting and waiting. It’ll never happen if I’m living in Melbourne.”

Should he give in to her demand for a horse? Being lenient, giving her too much, hadn’t done her any good. He’d stalled all year on the subject, hoping to convince Diane to move out of the area. She’d pushed back, citing Summer’s love of Hope Mountain and her wish to let their daughter finish the school year with her friends. “Is that why you’ve been getting into trouble, because Bailey died?”

“No. Yes.” She dropped her head. “I don’t know.”

Tom Dorian cleared his throat. “There’s a program locally called Horses for Hope. A woman named Hayley Sorensen runs it. She and her late husband used to give trail rides, but the fires destroyed her stables and half her horses. Now she conducts therapy using horses.”

“That’s the Hayley we saw this morning,” Summer said.

“Her?” Now that his annoyance at being startled had passed, Adam recalled blue eyes, a full mouth and fresh, natural beauty.

“They call her the ‘horse whisperer.’” Tom’s voice was tinged with a hint of awe. “I can vouch for her expertise. My brother suffered from debilitating anxiety attacks after being trapped in his car by the fire. Hayley and her horse therapy healed him.”

“Do you have her number?” Adam asked.

“No, Dad,” Summer moaned. “She’ll just be another dopey do-gooder who tries to get me in touch with my feelings.”

Behind the sullen facade Adam caught glimpses of a desperately unhappy teen, and his heart broke. How had his little girl come to this? Where had he failed her? He was floundering, with no idea how to fix her. Therapy from a horse whisperer sounded flaky, but he had to help Summer, and right now he was feeling desperate. “You’d get to be around horses.”

“I want to ride, not...” She chewed on her thumbnail. “I don’t even know what’s involved.”

Tom had been searching his computer files for the contact details. Now he wrote down the information and passed it across the desk. “She’s not great at answering her phone but you’d probably catch her if you go out there.”

“Apparently she’s our neighbor. We won’t have time to stop in today but we’ll call on her tomorrow.” Adam pocketed the slip of paper, then placed a hand on Summer’s shoulder. “Now it’s time to face the music.”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him, panicky.

“If you ever want to have another horse you have to show me you intend to clean up your act. First, we go to the gift shop so you can apologize to the owner. Then we visit the police station.”

“Please don’t make me go back to the shop,” Summer moaned.

“Come, sweetheart,” he said, tugging her to her feet. “We’ll do it together.”

* * *

“STEADY, ASHA,” HAYLEY MURMURED to the dapple-gray mare backed against the rough-hewn log rails of the corral. Slowly she advanced across the muddy ground, gently slapping long leather buggy reins against her legs. She lowered her shoulders, relaxed her mind and tried to radiate calm.

Shane, her black-and-white Australian shepherd, lay just outside the fence, his muzzle on his front paws, his eyes alert to every movement.

Asha snorted, eyes wild. She arched a neck marred with jagged scars and danced away from Hayley, tossing her silver mane and tail. Feeling her frustration rise, Hayley stopped. Nearly a year on, she’d made almost no progress with the registered purebred Arab.

Asha’s scars meant the show ring was out of the question, but she could still be bred and used in the Horses for Hope program—if she could be handled. Aside from the loss of income, which was certainly an issue, Hayley was hurt and baffled that she couldn’t connect with her own horse—especially given that her nickname was the “horse whisperer.”

Tipping back her battered Akubra hat, she pushed strands of dark blond hair off her forehead. At least no one was around to witness her humiliation except for Rolf and Molly. Her father-in-law was busy installing a hot water heater outside the garage where she’d been living since the fires destroyed her home. Earlier he’d put in a water tank to collect rain off the roof. Rolf wasn’t paying attention, but no doubt her mother-in-law was watching through the single small window at the back of the garage. Molly would be sympathetic, not critical, but still...

Molly emerged from the garage carrying a steaming mug. Her rounded figure was clad in a loose floral top and stretch pants, and she stepped gingerly over the muddy ground in her town shoes. “Coffee?”

Hayley hung the coiled reins over a fence post. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the hot drink. “I can use a break.”

“Maybe you’re pushing her too hard. That horse has been through so much. You should be easier on her.”

That was Molly-speak for You should be easier on yourself. But Hayley had to keep trying; it was what she did. “Left alone, Asha will never get better. I’m not hurting her. I’m trying to help her.”

“How is the rebuilding coming along?” Molly asked, changing the subject.

“Slowly.” Which was to say, not at all. “But I’ll get there.”

The 1880s homestead built by her great-grandparents had burned to the ground in the bushfires along with the stables and outbuildings. All that remained was the house’s brick chimney and the concrete block garage, a modern addition.

Hayley had cleared the car parts and junk out of the garage and put in a table, an old couch that pulled out to a bed and a makeshift kitchen. With the new hot water tank she would have the luxury of hot running water. A few pots of geraniums, her attempt at beautifying her dwelling, stood on either side of the door.

The fire-ravaged clearing was still charred and black in spots. Temporary horse shelters, a corral and a small paddock had been built between the garage and the dam for her five remaining horses. Besides Asha there were Sergeant and Major, who were brothers, both golden brown geldings with white socks; big old Bo, a palomino Clydesdale; and Blaze, a chestnut mare who’d disappeared the night of the fires. She’d been found three months later by a cattleman in the high country, running with a herd of wild horses. Several months had passed before Hayley realized Blaze was pregnant.

Despite the devastation, Hayley loved the property where her pioneer ancestors had homesteaded. She and Leif had started their trail-riding business here with the goal to expand to a dude ranch. Her plan to rebuild and fulfill their dream was all that kept her going.

And until that day came, she gave victims of the bushfires therapy using horses. Like her ancestors, she’d dug her heels in and said, “My land, my home. Nothing and no one will take it away from me.”

“Leif would’ve been so proud of you,” Molly said. She and Rolf lived in town, on a small block of land that had been spared the vagaries of the fires. They’d asked Hayley to come and live with them, but although their three-bedroom brick home was comfortable, it was no place for a cowgirl.

“I need an assistant part-time in the café now that winter’s over and the tourists are trickling back,” Molly added. “Do you want the job? You could probably use the extra money.”

Hayley adored her in-laws. Since the fires they’d been a lifeline. The hard part was keeping them from doing too much. “You and Rolf have been great. I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t fit it in around my Horses for Hope program.”

“Leif wouldn’t want you to struggle so hard,” Molly insisted. “He’d hate seeing you all by yourself out here.”

“Yes, well...” Leif had battled the fire threatening Timbertop, the big estate on the other side of the ridge, and he’d lost. She still didn’t understand why he’d been there instead of at home, defending their property and their animals. Everything they’d worked for, built and loved, was gone while Timbertop’s double-story log home and the surrounding forest had escaped untouched. But that had been Leif’s way, always helping others. He was a hero and she loved him for it, but... “Leif is dead.”

The words fell flat on the quiet mountain air. In the blackened, twisted eucalyptus that circled the charred clearing, a kookaburra called to its mate. An answering laugh echoed deep in the woods. There was no mate and little laughter left in Hayley’s life—she just felt numb. But she carried on, because that was what she did.

Molly glanced at the dark clouds gathering overhead. “I heard on the radio we’re in for a storm.” She called to her husband, “Rolf, are you about done? Rain’s coming.”

“We could definitely use it,” Hayley said. The reservoirs and water tanks needed to be replenished, and the horses could sure use some grass in their paddock. The few brave spears of green that poked through the burned soil were nibbled down almost as soon as they emerged.

Shane gave a sharp warning bark and jumped to his feet at the sound of wheels crunching on gravel. Over the slight rise came a burgundy Mercedes-Benz convertible with the black top up. Fifty yards from the corral, the car slowed to a halt.

“Are you expecting someone?” Molly asked.

“Nope. It’s probably sightseers gawking at the burned-out town. They get lost and come down my track once in a while.”

“Don’t dismiss the tourists,” Molly said. “We need the business for the town to get back on its feet. I need them.”

“I know.” Her mother-in-law’s gift-and-coffee shop had been gutted by fire and had required major renovations. She’d reopened two months ago and was struggling to stay afloat.

The Mercedes had a sleek, almost retro look to it. Hayley didn’t know much about cars, especially luxury ones, but she would guess it was vintage. As the male driver got out, she saw he was a luxury model, too. Tall with dark hair, he wore a suit, pants and a dress shirt, with polished black leather shoes. City clothes straight from the big end of town. He looked vaguely familiar....

Hayley was suddenly acutely aware of her dirty jeans with the rip across the knee and the soft green flannel shirt she’d owned since forever, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to hide the fraying cuffs. She tucked honey-colored strands of her fraying braid behind her ear, resisting the urge to pull out the hair elastic and retie it. A teenage girl with long red hair, wearing the local high school uniform dress of blue-and-white gingham, got out of the passenger side. She hung back, her gaze drifting to the corral where Asha trotted restlessly.

Molly sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s the girl I caught stealing a pair of earrings yesterday.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Hayley’s gaze narrowed.

“Can’t mistake that red hair. I recognize her father, too. Not many men around here look like they’ve stepped out of GQ.”

Now she recognized him. He was the jerk who’d yelled at her the day before when she was riding Asha. “Are they locals? What did you do when you caught her?”

“I called the police, told them I was pressing charges. I didn’t seriously intend to—she’s only a child—but I was upset and angry at the time. I wanted to give her a scare so she wouldn’t steal again. Her father brought her into the gift shop and made her apologize. I was happy with that. But he didn’t stop there. He emptied his wallet into the collection jar for bushfire victims I keep on the counter.” Molly turned to Hayley, her eyes round, and added in a hushed voice, “He donated nearly four hundred dollars.”

“He was trying to buy you off, Molly.” Who kept that much spare cash in their wallet and was rich enough to give it away without a thought? She was struggling to pay her electricity bill, small as it was now that the house was gone.

Shane stalked toward the newcomers, the fur along his spine ruffled. The stranger crouched and held out a hand, drawing the dog in closer. Shane sniffed it thoroughly then licked the hand. Having made friends with the dog, the man straightened and walked over to Hayley and Molly. He did a double take as he recognized Molly. “Hello again.... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name the other day.”

“Molly Sorensen.”

“Molly. I’m sorry we had to meet under those circumstances.” His gaze moved to Hayley. “Would you be Hayley Sorensen?”

Hayley wasn’t as quick as Shane to give her approval. She tucked her thumbs into the loops of her jeans. “And you are?”

“Adam Banks.” He held out his hand to shake.

Banks. He must be her neighbor Diane’s ex-husband. She didn’t have much to do with Diane, as they moved in different circles. And then there was the fact that Leif had died defending Timbertop.... Leif’s death wasn’t Adam Banks’s fault, but she couldn’t help blaming him anyway. If Adam had been at home defending his property, instead of in Melbourne, Leif wouldn’t have had to do it for him. Leif might still be alive.

She tried to remember if she had met Adam before he’d almost run her over this morning. Probably not. Molly was right. She’d have remembered a man like him. Not that she was impressed by expensive clothes and a hundred-dollar haircut.

Reluctantly, she accepted Adam’s handshake. It was firm and businesslike, but his warm palm and enveloping fingers reminded her how long it had been since she’d experienced a man’s touch. It felt so good that she pulled her hand away a fraction of a second too soon. “Yes, I’m Hayley.”

His dark eyes moved over her, openly assessing. “I understand you do some kind of therapy using horses.”

“Horses for Hope. It’s a government-funded program.” Hayley glanced at the girl hanging over the corral railing with her hand stretched out to Asha. The dapple gray snorted and tossed her head. “Careful. She’s not very friendly since the fires.”

“Summer, come and say hello, please. This is Hayley Sorensen and Molly Sorensen.”

The girl reluctantly left the corral and walked over, kicking up dirt with the toes of her black Mary Jane shoes. Her gaze flicked to Molly and she stopped short. She looked to her father. “I already apologized—”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Adam said.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Molly assured her. “As far as I’m concerned, that episode is in the past.” She turned to Hayley. “I see Rolf’s waiting for me in the truck. Think about what I said regarding the job, okay?” She gave Hayley a hug, nodded to Adam and Summer, then hurried off to the dusty red utility truck idling next to the garage.

Adam touched his daughter’s arm. “Hayley is the horse whisperer your principal was telling us about.”

“Hey.” Summer’s glance flicked briefly at Hayley, then returned to Asha. “She’s beautiful.”

“Summer’s horse, Bailey, died in the fires,” Adam said.

The sadness in Summer’s hazel eyes as she gazed hungrily at the mare told a story Hayley knew all too well. Over a hundred local horses had perished in the fires. “I’m so sorry. Did he get scared and jump the fence?” As far as she knew, Timbertop hadn’t been touched by the fires.

Summer shrugged and hunched deeper into her shoulders.

“We were referred to you by Tom Dorian from the high school,” Adam said. “I understand you work with troubled teens.”

Summer threw him a dirty look. “I’m not troubled.”

Hayley ignored that and spoke to Adam. “I work with anyone who’s been traumatized, not just teens.”

“I’d like to enroll Summer in your program. When’s the soonest she could start?”

“I’m afraid my client list is full. I suggest you ask your local doctor for a referral to a counselor. There are several practicing psychologists in the area.”

“You were recommended very highly. Could we put Summer on a waiting list? Someone might drop out.”

“It’s unlikely. Horse therapy can be a long process, sometimes lasting months.”

“Dad, forget it. She can’t take me. Sorry to bother you,” Summer said to Hayley and tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“If you find you have an opening...” Adam wrote his home and cell phone numbers on the back of a business card and gave it to her. “I believe we’re neighbors.”

“Don’t you live in the city? That’s what Diane told me.” Not that Hayley spoke to her a lot. Leif had usually taken her and her city friends trail riding.

“Diane’s temporarily in Sydney caring for her mother, so I’m staying at Timbertop for the foreseeable future.”

“So you’re commuting? That’s a long drive.”

“I might be taking a leave of absence.” Adam shrugged. “It could be worse. Spring is a nice time to be out here with everything in bloom—” He broke off, his gaze flickering around the charred clearing.

“I guess it’s spring over at Timbertop.” The simmering resentment in her aching chest got the better of her and she added, “My husband was a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority. He died while fighting the fires on your property.”

Just in case Adam didn’t know.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His dark eyes met hers. “Thank you, I guess, although that hardly seems appropriate.”

She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want his gratitude. And she didn’t want him on her property. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Again Adam glanced around at the razed clearing, this time taking in the garage with the curtain in the window and her spare boots outside the door. “Would you consider taking Summer as a private client?”

He’d obviously summed up her situation as desperate. He wasn’t far off. But she wasn’t that desperate.

“My time is fully committed.” She felt sorry for the girl, but Adam Banks was a rich dude trying to offload his problem onto someone else. Sure, he was well-spoken, handsome and polite. It was easy to be polite when people kowtowed to you all the time.

“I’ll pay you double what you get from the government for your other clients.”

She almost caved. God knew she needed the money. And she would have liked to help Summer. A girl who’d lost her horse—how sad was that? But she was telling the truth when she’d said she was fully committed.

Soon the trail-riding season would be here and she would be even busier. Plus she wouldn’t be a good therapist if her anger and resentment toward Summer’s father spilled over into sessions with her. Hayley couldn’t tell Adam that, of course. He’d simply have to accept no for an answer.

“It’s not possible.” She turned and headed for the garage, Shane at her heels.

Shutting the door behind her, she went to the window over the sink and peered out. Adam took a step toward the garage but Summer grabbed his arm and pulled in the opposite direction. Only when they got into the Mercedes and started the engine did Hayley let out her breath. She didn’t know why her heart was beating so fast. All she knew was that she was relieved when his car disappeared over the rise.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHERE DOES YOUR mother keep the brown sugar?” Adam asked as he rummaged through the pantry. A barbecue sauce simmered on the stove.

No response from Summer. He glanced over at his daughter, sprawled on the couch in the great room across from the kitchen, her eyes closed. She was plugged into her iPod again.

The past two days had been stressful. Yesterday there’d been his aborted meeting with the Chinese followed by Summer shoplifting and encounters with the school principal, the café owner and the police. Then this afternoon he’d been unsuccessful with Hayley Sorensen. Diane’s frozen diet meals weren’t going to cut it tonight—he needed wine and red meat, stat.

The exchange with Hayley had especially bothered him for some reason. He didn’t usually have a problem relating to women, but she’d been distinctly cool. Her refusal to treat Summer had felt personal, which didn’t seem fair. Her husband’s death was tragic and he felt for her, but surely she didn’t hold him responsible for her loss. He hadn’t even been in Hope Mountain the day of the bushfires.

Adam walked over and plucked the bud from one ear. “I’m seriously considering dismantling this thing one night while you sleep.”

Summer yelped and sat up. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Give it back.” She made a swipe for the earbud.

He held it out of reach. “Turn this off and give me a hand with dinner, please.”

She looked as though she was going to protest, then gave in. “Fine.”

Back in the kitchen Adam passed her a head of broccoli. “Chop.”

Summer picked up the chef’s knife and whacked off the base of the stem. “I don’t like broccoli.”

“I’m not crazy about it, either, but it’s nutritious and it’s the only fresh vegetable in the fridge.” He watched her shuttered face as she hacked inexpertly at the broccoli. He needed to talk to her, but it was hard to begin, to find the right tone.

“What’s going on with you, Summer?” As soon as he spoke, he knew he’d gotten it wrong.

“Nothing.”

Doggedly, he persisted. “I called a couple of therapists this afternoon. Everyone in the area is booked.”

“I don’t need therapy.”

He realized he couldn’t strike the right note because he was furious. And worried to death, and afraid for Summer’s immediate future, and deeply disappointed—yes, all that. But also very, very angry. At himself and Diane for dropping the ball, at the bushfires for causing his family and the community grief, but right this minute, mostly at Summer for her sullen attitude.

“So, lying and stealing are perfectly normal for you?”

She tossed the chopped vegetable in the pot, not deigning to answer.

He reigned in his temper best he could. “Here’s what I think should happen. Until your mother gets back—”

“When will that be?”

“A month, maybe longer. Till then we stay at my apartment, enroll you in a city school and get you a counselor. I could continue to work—”

“I thought you were taking a leave of absence.”

“I called Lorraine this afternoon and she agreed I could take time off, but she’s not happy. I’d really prefer to finish the project I started, but I’d still cut back my hours. It makes sense rather than stay here.”

“Not to me! The school year’s almost over. Plus the bushfire memorial service and dance is in a few weeks. I don’t want to leave Zoe and my other friends. I don’t know anyone in the city.” She slashed the knife down hard on the cutting board. “I’m not going.”

“Summer,” he warned, “careful with that knife.”

“Why, are you afraid of what I might do?” With a smile that chilled him she deliberately stuck the point of the knife on her wrist and pressed.

She was bluffing, she had to be.... He watched the flesh dip beneath the cold steel. Another fraction of an inch and it would pierce the skin. Adam snatched the knife from her. All his anger drained away. “You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faded and she dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered. “That was stupid.”

Adam went around the kitchen block and took her in his arms. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.” With her face pressed against his chest she shook her head. “Promise?”

“I promise.” She looked up at him, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Don’t make me leave Hope Mountain.”

“This isn’t a safe environment, sweetheart. Living in the forest is like living inside a giant stack of kindling laid for a campfire. All that’s needed is a lightning strike, and these tinder-dry woods would go up in flames.”

“It’s been raining for weeks. The woods are hardly tinder-dry.”

“They’ll get that way come summer.” He brushed strands of flaming hair off her forehead. “What do you call a ninja with red hair?”

“A ginga. That’s so lame and you’ve told it a million times. Come on, Dad, promise not to make me leave here. Please?”

It would probably be a mistake to pull her out of school and add to whatever trauma she was going through. There were only three months till the end of the school year.

“I can’t promise you’ll stay here forever. But, okay, at least until school’s out.” Before she could continue the argument he patted her on the shoulder. “We have no sugar for the sauce, so it looks like we’re eating our lamb chops plain.”

“Ugh. I hate plain chops. Is there at least ketchup?”

“I didn’t see any. I could go to the grocery store.” He was so relieved at hearing normal, kid-type complaining he was willing to make the trip for one item.

“It closes at five on Monday.”

He glanced at the clock—ten to five. Living out in the boonies was nuts. If he was at his Melbourne apartment an elevator ride would take him to street level and a twenty-four-hour convenience store ten yards away.

“In that case, it looks like another night of Diet Turkey Delight....”

Summer made a face, and he had to agree: the thought was unappetizing.

Unless he became a terrible cliché and borrowed a cup of sugar from their neighbor. Ordinarily he wouldn’t hesitate, but Hayley hadn’t exactly put out the welcome mat. She wasn’t bad-looking with all that honey-blond hair and those big blue eyes. Her long legs were shapely even in dusty blue jeans. But she was extremely prickly.

Mind you, she had serious problems, like the fact that she was living in her garage. Maybe he’d simply caught her at a bad time. Yes, that could be it. If he gave her another opportunity to treat Summer, she might accept. He’d learned in his long career of negotiating not to give up—if at first you don’t get the outcome you want, give your opponent another chance to say yes.

Not that Hayley was his opponent. But she did have something he needed—the ability to heal his daughter. If she got to know him and saw he wasn’t the bad guy, she might relent.

He looked through the kitchen window, past the manicured lawn and the gum trees ringing the gravel parking area to the horse paddock. He had something Hayley needed, too. The grass hadn’t been grazed for nearly twelve months and was knee-high. Sure, she’d said her program was full, but she could no doubt find another hour in her week—if she wanted to.

Hayley didn’t seem like the kind of woman he could charm into acceding to his wishes, which suited him fine. This was business. He prefered straight dealing. He had the sense that she did, too. Even though he’d been disappointed and frustrated by her refusal to take Summer as a client, he liked that she’d told him no straight up, without apology.

The rain had stopped, and there was still an hour of daylight. On the way home Summer had pointed out a track through the woods from their driveway to the Sorensen property. It should take only five or ten minutes by bicycle, assuming Summer’s mountain bike could handle the muddy terrain. He missed his weekly thirty-mile cycle along the beach road in Melbourne. So rather than drive the short distance to Hayley’s, he might as well get some fresh air and exercise.

He turned off the heat under the pot and covered the lamb chops. “I’m going next door for a cup of sugar. How good is that track you showed me? Will I be okay on your bike?”

“I’ve never been down there. Mom told me about it.”

“I’m going to try.” He turned to go, then paused. “Maybe you should come with me.”

“I have homework.”

Now she had homework. Half an hour ago she was just laying around listening to music. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Her cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m not gonna do anything dumb. I was just getting at you before.”

“Well, stop it. I worry about you.”

She met his gaze, her normal self. “I’ll be fine, honest.”

Satisfied she was telling the truth, he went through the door into the garage and wheeled Summer’s mountain bike outside. He raised the seat as high as it could go, took an experimental lap around the parking area then pedaled down the gravel driveway. When he saw the old fence post and the parallel dirt ruts, he turned and headed into the woods.

* * *

HAYLEY RESTED HER hand on Bo’s withers, reins slack, as the big horse plodded quietly along a wildlife trail. The woods here were untouched by fire, full of the resinous scent of gum trees. Late afternoon was her time for riding, and she loved going bareback, her legs dangling and her thoughts drifting. Working with trauma victims was rewarding but it was also emotionally taxing. She needed this time to de-stress.

Today, though, her thoughts refused to drift. Should she take the job with Molly? She was barely skimping by on her income from the Horses for Hope program. What would Leif have wanted? Working in town felt like selling out on their dream, but on the other hand, she had the horses to consider. Blaze was due to foal in a few weeks. There might be vet bills. And all the horses needed to eat. Hay wasn’t cheap.

Maybe she shouldn’t have refused Adam’s request to treat his daughter as a private patient. But he unsettled her. Partly because of his association with the bushfires and Leif’s death. Partly because he was a stranger. Every man in Hope Mountain was as familiar to her as her Akubra hat. Adam was attractive and sophisticated. Rich. She didn’t know how to act around him.

A muffled curse on the vehicle track to her right broke into her thoughts. She reined in Bo and peered around a bush. Speak of the devil. Adam Banks had his knees up around his ears as he made wobbly progress on the muddy track. He didn’t look quite so intimidating now.

He lost his balance and thrust out a leg to brace himself only to end up ankle-deep in mud. Hayley stifled a smile. Bo shifted one of his enormous hooves and a twig broke.

Adam glanced around. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

“You need a horse, not a bike,” Hayley called out. She squeezed her thighs around Bo’s barrel-shaped stomach and the horse picked his way through the undergrowth. “Where do you think you’re going, anyway?”

He was heading in the direction of her property. She didn’t care if people strayed over property lines while hiking or riding. But she didn’t want Adam Banks becoming free with the track between their places. Didn’t want him popping over anytime he felt like it.

He reached into the saddlebag behind his seat and pulled out an empty plastic container. “I’m coming to beg a cup of sugar off you. Demerara would be ideal, but I’ll settle for plain brown. Or even white, in a pinch.”

“Sugar.” She looked him over, at the designer jeans, black polo shirt and expensive white running shoes splattered with mud. “Are you making cookies?”

Was this sugar quest a ploy to talk to her again? He seemed a determined type, used to getting his own way. She wouldn’t put it past him to have another go at convincing her to work with his daughter.

“Barbecue sauce. So, do you have any sugar? It would be nice to know now before I destroy my clothes and Summer’s bike. I promise to repay it tomorrow.”

Was that a subtle dig at her obviously straitened circumstances? The other day when she’d turned down a free movie ticket Molly had told her she was too defensive and too proud. It was hard to know anymore where to draw the line.

“I’ve got sugar. But you’re not going to be able to ride much farther. There’s a creek up ahead and the banks are a quagmire. What on earth possessed you to try to come through here on a bike?”

“I do a lot of cycling at home.” Hands on hips, he surveyed the dense forest and muddy track as if wondering how he’d come to be there. “Admittedly this wasn’t the brightest move.”

“Are you one of those MAMILs we get up here on the weekend?” She smirked. “They come through town in packs of twenty to thirty.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Middle-Aged Men In Lycra.”

“I confess to Lycra, but thirty-six is hardly middle-aged.”

She’d been joking, of course, calling him a MAMIL. He was nothing like the pot-bellied weekend warriors who puffed up the mountain, red-faced and sweaty, to collapse in the café with a piece of cake. And now that she knew he was a cyclist, she could see how he came by his lean, muscled physique. An image flashed through her mind of him in a tight-fitting jersey stretched across a hard chest, and shorts that clung like a second skin to a taut butt and sharply defined quads. No, not middle-aged. More like prime of his life.

Adam propped the bike against a tree. “I’ll walk.”

She doubted he would want to do that for long, either. Well, he would find out. With a nudge of her heels she turned Bo toward home.

Adam kept pace, making sure there were a couple of yards between himself and Bo. “That’s a big horse.”

“He’s half Clydesdale. Eighteen hands and as comfy as a couch.” She patted the smooth golden coat below the white mane. “You’re a good old boy, aren’t you, Bo.” Poor beast had been a mess when Ian, the Horses for Hope coordinator, had sent him to her. Bo’s coat had been falling out from mange, and he’d been so skinny his ribs had showed. With a lot of TLC, he’d recovered.

They ambled along in silence for a few moments. Hayley tilted her head, listening to the clear, ringing call of a bellbird. Leif’s favorite. Adam, struggling to watch where he put his feet, didn’t even seem to notice. “Have you found a therapist for Summer?” she asked.

“No, I’m still looking.” Adam avoided a muddy puddle in a depression between the ruts. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No one’s dropped out of the program, if that’s what you mean.” He didn’t seem the kind of man to go for alternative practices. Maybe he didn’t realize certain things about her. “I’m not a qualified psychologist, you know. I didn’t go to university, and I don’t have any letters after my name.”

“But you get results.”

“Yes, I get results,” she conceded. “Why don’t you buy her a horse? It might not fix all her problems, but it would help. Give her something to focus on besides herself.” She didn’t know what she would do if it weren’t for Shane and her horses. She’d probably need therapy herself.

“Can’t do that. We’re not staying in Hope Mountain,” Adam said. “I hope to sell Timbertop and move back to the city before Christmas.”

Good. She didn’t want him bringing his city ways and his handsome face into her woods. But if she felt like that, why did she also feel disappointed?

“Summer’s not happy about the idea,” he went on, a troubled frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t understand why, really. She’s only been here a year or so.”

“She’ll miss her friends. And maybe she’s fallen in love with the area.” He looked skeptical. Hayley shook her head. “You haven’t actually lived in Hope Mountain, have you? I understand you used to come out on weekends occasionally, but that’s not living here, that’s just visiting.”

He threw her a glance filled with suppressed annoyance and chagrin. Had she hit a sore spot?

Diane had thrown a divorce party last year. Hayley and Leif had been the only locals, and she’d felt uncomfortable. But Diane and her friends regularly went on trail rides, so she supposed Diane was being polite.

“Even if you don’t want to live here, Diane will be back eventually, when her mother gets better,” Hayley said.

“I’ll have to discuss it with her. She hinted before she left that she may not want to come back.”

“Seems a shame to take Summer away, though.”

Adam stopped walking and planted his hands on his hips. “Yes, but this is where my sweet, smart, sunny little girl has inexplicably gone haywire and turned dark and miserable.”

“She’s, what, about fourteen? That’s a tough age.”

“I don’t believe it’s typical teenage blues. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m her father. I can tell something is eating away at her.”

“Losing her horse to the bushfires?” Hayley still felt the ache in her own heart when she thought of her dead horses—Ranger, Lady, Sham, Smokey and Bella. They’d been part of her family. Even after nearly a year she still missed them.

“Maybe it’s that. I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“Patience,” Hayley said. “Maybe you just need time to reconnect with her, get her to trust you.”

“What do I do in the meantime when the police catch her shoplifting? Next time that might not be enough for her. She might...do anything.”

Hayley’s first instinct was to offer help. Her opinion of Adam had improved slightly. He wasn’t just looking to off-load a problem; he was genuinely concerned about his daughter. She probably could carve out a couple of hours a week for Summer if she really wanted to.

Then the bellbird called again, reminding her of Leif. She owed Adam and his daughter nothing. Let them leave Hope Mountain. What was it to her?

The creek, when they came to it, was swollen with rain and rushing, overflowing the near bank and forming a large boggy area stretching ten yards toward them. On the other side of the creek, the coursing water had carved the bank into an undercut.

“Still need that sugar?” Hayley asked.

“No worries. I’ll take my shoes off and roll up my pants.”

“I wouldn’t take my shoes off if I were you. There are broken branches and stones in among the muck. Might even be snakes.”

That gave him pause, but only for a moment. “I didn’t like these runners much anyway.” He started rolling up his jeans.

“You must really want that barbecue sauce.”

Adam startled and gave a shamefaced grin. “To tell you the truth, I almost forgot what I was after. I just knew I had a goal and had to reach it. I guess that sounds crazy to you.”

“No, not really.” She understood goals, even crazy ones. Her goal was to rebuild her house on the spot her great-grandparents homesteaded and where she’d grown up and had lived as a married woman. She was going to do it despite everyone telling her she was wasting her time and despite what little money she had.

Sell the land, her city-dwelling divorced parents said. Use the proceeds to buy a house closer to the town, or better yet, in a Melbourne suburb close to one of them. She wouldn’t consider it. So, yes, she understood a man who’d walk through muck for something he wanted.

Where she and he differed was that she would never ruin a brand-new pair of shoes. When her house had gone up in flames, so had all her possessions. She clothed herself with donations and the odd new item. With so little to her name, everything she owned was precious.

“Stay here,” Hayley said. “I’ll ride back to the house and bring the sugar to you.”

“How long will that take? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Twenty minutes or so, round trip.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you. It was my bad for not checking the pantry before I started cooking. I’ll take my lumps.”

Before he stepped into the mud, she raised her hand to stop him. “Wait. I’ll double you.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You can ride behind me. Bo can handle it.” She’d carried an extra passenger plenty of times on the big old carthorse.

“Well, all right. Thanks.” He studied the problem. “That is one very large horse. How do I get up there?”

“Over here.” She manoeuvred Bo to a fallen log. After a couple of tries Adam hoisted himself up and swung a leg over the back of the horse. Hayley moved forward to accommodate him. “Don’t sit too far back or you’ll be on Bo’s kidneys. Have you ridden before?”

“When I was a kid, on my grandfather’s farm.” As he found his balance his hands hovered near her waist for a second before settling on his own legs.

She gave Bo an encouraging pat and nudged his sides with her heels. “Let’s go home, boy.”

Bo lifted his enormous hooves with their shaggy white fetlocks and started through the sinking mud toward the creek.

Hayley hadn’t counted on being so aware of Adam close behind her. The heat from his body warmed her back and with every lurching step of Bo’s, Adam swayed forward, his quadriceps nudging the backs of her thighs. For the first time in many months she was reminded that she was a woman and a sexual being. In close proximity was a man. A very sexy man.

It was too soon after Leif’s death to even be thinking about someone else—especially Adam. He was indirectly responsible for the fact that she didn’t have her husband to warm her bed at night, to work alongside her during the day and to share her dreams and goals. Sure, they’d had their rocky times, but Leif had changed and their marriage had been on the mend.

At the edge of the rushing stream Bo needed a few encouraging digs of her heels to keep moving. Slowly he picked his way across, and then scrambled up the steep bank, his big hooves sliding in the mud.

Hayley leaned forward, one hand gripping the mane. Adam started to slide backward. “Hang on.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned forward, reaching for his own bit of mane. His fingers dug into her just below her ribcage and his hard chest pressed against her back. “Are we having fun yet?” he said, his warm breath close to her ear.

In the midst of feeling uncomfortable about his closeness, she laughed. Bloody Adam Banks. She should have let him get his damn shoes dirty. Or she should have gone farther upstream before attempting to cross. It was her own darn fault for wanting to make this journey as short as possible.

At the top of the bank, Bo made a final surge, crashing through the tree ferns. Adam lost his grip and slid right over the horse’s rump, landing in the mud. When he scrambled to his feet, dark brown streaks covered the front of his polo shirt and his pants. Hayley hooted with laughter, then quickly covered her mouth.

Adam tried to brush off the clods but only smeared them around. “Only the truly depraved laugh at other people’s misfortunes.”

“Sometimes if you don’t laugh, you cry.”

He glanced up sharply, then smiled. “Glad I could provide you with some light entertainment.”

“Want to get back up?” she asked, hoping he’d say no.

“Thanks, but I’ll walk from here.”

“Suit yourself.” And no, she was not disappointed. Well, maybe a little. But that must only be because she truly was depraved.

All levity evaporated as they walked up the slope of the ridge. At the highest point they emerged from the untouched forest and into a stand of trees with charred trunks and bare limbs, stark reminders of the firestorm that had swept through nearly a year ago. Another fifty yards and even these blackened ghosts petered out. Then there were no trees at all. The mountain was a wasteland as far as the eye could see, down into the valley and halfway up the other side of the hill.

Adam’s steps slowed, then stopped altogether. “Holy shit.”

“No kidding,” Hayley said grimly.

He glanced back to the untouched forest a mere hundred meters away. “So how did it happen? How did your property get razed and mine escaped with barely a singed leaf?”

“A fluke of nature.”

“Tell me more. All I know is that the wind pushed the fire up the mountain.”

“That’s right.” Hayley didn’t like to relive that day. She actively tried to cast it out of her mind, but the stark landscape never let her forget. “The wind was blowing steadily from the northwest, seventy miles an hour and gusting up to ninety, ninety-five. Leif led his firefighting crew down the slope below Timbertop, clearing and back-burning to create a firebreak. During the afternoon the wind veered around to the northeast.” Just as the Bureau of Meteorology had predicted. “It pushed the fire in the other direction.” She swallowed. “Toward the volunteer fire crew.”

For a moment she couldn’t speak and the taut silence stretched.

“It’s okay,” Adam said. “You don’t have to talk about it. I get the picture.”

“The fire roared up the mountain like a freaking freight train,” Hayley said, barely hearing him. “Jumping the break and taking out everything in its path.... Including Leif and his crew. They...they were dead before they could retreat.”

Her halting recitation of the details stalled on the choking pain in her chest. Breathe, just breathe. After a few seconds she was able to go on. “The fire continued to advance this way. There was no one to stop it. My house and outbuildings were burned to the ground. Leif sent me a message about an hour before he died. He couldn’t get out. He wanted me to head into town and stay with his parents. But I couldn’t leave the horses.”

Why hadn’t Leif listened to the weather bureau and positioned the firebreak on their side of the ridge? Was it because the fire was heading toward Timbertop and he wanted to help their neighbor? It had been a judgment call. A fatal one.

Damn Leif. Always had to be the hero.

“Where were you when the fire went through?” Adam asked.

She turned her gaze toward him but she wasn’t seeing him, she was seeing the black sky and hearing the unearthly roar of the fire, breathing in the choking smoke. “I was in the dam. Shane and I got in the dam, right out in the middle where I had to stand on my tiptoes. Shane kept wanting to swim to shore. I had to hold him in my arms. Hold him up so he could breathe. There were only three inches of air between the surface of the water and the smoke. We stayed in the dam for four hours.”

Adam swore. “That must have been awful.”

“I was lucky.” He looked surprised. She went on fiercely, “When people commiserate and tell me how sorry they are for me, losing everything, I say, no, I was the lucky one. I’m still alive.” Whenever she started feeling sorry for herself she thought about Leif, caught out in the bush with no protection from the inferno racing up the mountainside.

She had the garage to live in and her horses had shelter, albeit temporary. One day, the house and stables would be rebuilt. She would have a home again.

She started Bo walking again, and soon they came to the paddock. It was black and barren all the way from here to the garage, three hundred yards on the right.

She and Adam didn’t speak again until they approached the horse shelter, a three-sided corrugated iron box. Major emerged and whickered to Bo.

“What are your horses grazing on?” Adam said. “There’s not a blade of grass in there.”

“I buy timothy-hay and have it trucked in.” It was expensive, but she was used to most of her income going toward the horses. Some days the road back to solvency and a normal life seemed like a mountain she was climbing, but there was only one way she could go—onward.

She slid off Bo, removed his bridle and replaced it with a halter before letting him into the paddock. She would brush him down later.

“Did the horses get into the dam as well?” Adam asked.

“No. When the fire got close I opened the gate and let them out. They ran around the yard for a bit and then headed into the woods.” She still had nightmares about hearing their screams as burning shards of the barn’s corrugated iron roof rained down. One had struck Asha in the neck.... “Four of the five I have left came home one by one over the next week. Blaze was found months later. The rest I never saw again.”

“Do you think they’re alive somewhere out there?”

She cut him a scathing glance. “I’m too old to believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.” She’d tried to find her horses. For weeks she’d gone up to the high country, scouting the alpine meadows and talking to the ranchers and park rangers.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

There was that pity again. Pity and charity. They had to be the two worst virtues in the world. They reminded the person on the receiving end that they needed help. That they were victims.

Brushing past him, she strode toward the garage at a fast clip with Shane at her heels. “I’ll get you that sugar.”

He caught up with her halfway across the yard. “Why don’t you sell up and move?”

“If you have to ask that, you don’t know me,” she said, opening the unlocked garage door.

“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

She tossed her hat on a hook beside the door and toed off her boots. She could give him an impassioned speech about how she grew up riding in these woods, how Hope Mountain was in her blood, how she couldn’t conceive of ever living anywhere else. But she didn’t know him, so she wasn’t about to tell him her innermost thoughts and feelings. They wouldn’t mean anything to him. So she shrugged it off. “Guess I’m just stubborn that way.”

Adam stood in the doorway, blatantly cataloguing the sparse furnishings. The shabby recliner, the old tea crate she used as a coffee table, the Indian bedspread she’d hung on the wall for color, the battered two-seater table and chairs and her pull-out couch with the extra blanket folded over the arm. If he said something cheerful about how cozy it was she just might pull out her rifle and shoot him.

“My paddocks are full of long grass,” he said instead. “You’re welcome to bring your horses over to graze.”

“That’s kind of you, but I can fend for myself.” She washed her hands, then rummaged through the cardboard box that held her supply of canned goods and packets of dry food.

She felt his skepticism and ignored it. She didn’t want to be beholden to the man who’d indirectly been responsible for her husband’s death.

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Adam went on. “I’m trying to clear away excess fuel and make Timbertop fire-safe. The grass is way overgrown. If you don’t bring your horses over I’ll have to get a flock of sheep.”

She got an image of him herding sheep in his fancy suit and polished leather shoes. Hiding a smile, she said, “That much feed is worth a lot of sugar.”

“I’m not offering it as some sort of repayment for services rendered, either now or in the future. I thought the creed of the bush was that everyone helped each other.”

She straightened, holding two partial bags of sugar, one white and one brown. “True, but you’re not part of the local community. You don’t have any responsibility to help.”

“My daughter lives here.”

So she did. And Adam had dumped four hundred dollars into the community center fund. Hayley felt ashamed. Why was she pushing him away so hard? Where was her tolerance? Another creed of the bush was “live and let live.”

Maybe he didn’t want anything from her. Maybe he was simply being generous because he could afford to be. And maybe that was why she was so prickly. An urbane, sophisticated man like Adam Banks couldn’t possibly be interested in a scruffy mountain girl like her except as a charity case. Not that she was ashamed of who she was. No, sir. If anything, she felt sorry for him because city folks were soft. Put Adam Banks in the bush without his smartphone and he would be lost within minutes.

But he had a point about reducing fuel. Come summer that grass would dry out and be tinder.

She took the plastic container from him and emptied the contents of both bags into it. Combined there was about three quarters of a cup of sugar. There went her nightly hot chocolate, one of her few indulgences. “I hope that’s enough.”

“Perfect.” His gaze flickered at the realization that he’d taken the last of her sugar.

Before he could do something stupid like try to give it back, she said, “Well, you’ve just done me a favor. I’ve been trying to use this up so I could go on a sugar-free diet. That stuff will kill you. Better you than me.”

“Come for dinner,” he said suddenly. “Summer would be glad to have company other than her father for a change.”

Lamb chops with barbecue sauce. Probably mashed potatoes and green beans or salad. For a moment she was so tempted she actually salivated. If she stayed home she’d be dining on canned tuna and toast. Or lentil soup, which was tasty enough and nutritious but uninspiring after the third or fourth night in a row. “Thanks, but I can’t.”

He waited for more. She shrugged and smiled but didn’t utter another word. She didn’t owe him an explanation. And frankly, she didn’t have one. She was no martyr. If anyone else had invited her for dinner she would’ve gone in a heartbeat, just for the company. But Adam, well...

He looked pretty tasty himself....

Admit it, you’re attracted to him.

No, no way. She was not attracted to him.

He was generous and kind. And hot, don’t forget hot. But that didn’t mean she was attracted. He didn’t belong here and he couldn’t wait to get away. He’d said so himself.

Leif hadn’t been gone a year. Getting involved with the man whose property he’d died defending when that man hadn’t even bothered to show up would feel like betrayal. She and Leif hadn’t made love for six months before he died, but so what? Despite their problems, she’d been loyal in life and she was loyal in death. And what would Molly and Rolf think if she started seeing someone so soon? Hurt and disappointment wouldn’t begin to describe their reaction.

It was only dinner, not a date. Don’t overreact, she told herself.

Finally Adam raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. If you change your mind you know where we live.”

She was relieved he didn’t press her to come. The fact that he didn’t proved he was only being polite. “I’ll drive you back.”

“You don’t need to,” he began, then stopped as he realized the alternative was her doubling him again on Bo. Heat flared in his eyes, kindling an answering response from her. For a moment they just stared at each other. She recalled the press of his thighs against hers, the feel of his arm around her waist, his legs tightening around her butt.

Then he shook his head. “Actually, I’d appreciate a lift. Next time I won’t wander into the woods so impetuously.”

Nope, he clearly didn’t want a repeat of that kind of togetherness any more than she did. Hayley released her breath.

He held up the container of sugar. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”

She gave him a tight smile and grabbed her truck keys. What he owed her, he couldn’t begin to repay.

CHAPTER THREE

“THANKS ANYWAY,” ADAM SAID, and scratched the last name off his list of potential counselors. “You have my number if you get an opening.”

He tried Diane for the fifth or sixth time. After leaving another message he pushed back from the desk in his study and went upstairs to knock on his daughter’s door. “Summer?”

“Yeah?” she said in a distracted, muffled voice.

He peeked in and found her lying on her stomach in bed, still in her pajamas, her red hair spilling across her shoulders. She didn’t even look up as her fingers flew over her phone, texting.

“Hey, kiddo. What do you call a lazy baby kangaroo?”

“Dunno.”

“A pouch potato.”

She groaned. “You need new material.”

“Can you give me a hand outside?”

“I’m talking to Zoe.”

“Say goodbye for now. I want to move the woodpile away from the house.” And he figured Summer would benefit if she got outside and did something physical instead of moping around indoors.

“That’s dumb. We’ll just have to walk farther to get wood for the fireplace during winter.”

He hoped she wouldn’t be living here next winter, but he wasn’t foolish enough to mention that. “It’s a hazard in the event of a bushfire. Come on.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you need to do something to earn the exorbitant allowance your mother gives you.”

“Hey, I do the dishes and clean my own room.”

“Wear sturdy shoes or boots and get yourself a pair of gloves from the toolshed.”

“Oh, all right.” With a heavy sigh she put down her phone.

Adam had moved two wheelbarrow loads from the house to a new woodpile he’d started beside the barn by the time Summer shuffled outdoors in Ugg boots and a hoodie. She waited with her hands tucked into her sleeves for him to trundle back.

He began loading wood, sparing a brief nostalgic thought for the old days when she’d been eager to help Daddy. “Come on, then.”

Slowly she pulled the gloves out of her back pocket and put them on. Then she picked up a chunk of firewood by her fingertips and dropped it into the wheelbarrow. “There are probably spiders in the woodpile. Maybe even snakes.”

“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

“I didn’t believe that when I was five and I don’t believe it now.”

He chuckled, and her sullen expression cracked into a reluctant smile. “Fair enough. If you see a snake or spider you’re allowed to run screaming. Until then, pick up the wood like you mean it.”

“I don’t think it’s something you can ‘mean.’ You just do it.”

“Ever heard of mindfulness?” He wasn’t even sure where he’d picked up that expression. Probably from overhearing the women in the office talking. But it made sense. He’d done chores on his grandfather’s farm when he was a kid. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it was to focus on a simple, repetitive act like hauling wood. Doing reps on a weight machine at the gym just wasn’t the same.

“Mom’s the yoga person in the family.” Summer tossed three chunks of wood on the pile so hard one bounced out of the barrow. “Oh, I forgot. We’re not a family anymore.”

Twelve months had passed since the divorce. Adam had hoped Summer wouldn’t be feeling so raw by now. They’d never really had much opportunity to talk about his and Diane’s breakup. Since they’d moved out, his access visits with Summer had been movie-and-dinner combos with stilted conversation.

He picked up the fallen piece of wood and replaced it on the pile. “Sounds like you’re still pretty angry about that.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“How you feel matters to me.”

She stared at him, unsmiling. “What’re you going to do about it?”

He’d never felt so helpless. And that made him angry. “Not much I can do, I guess. The marriage is over and we all have to deal with it.”

“Why didn’t you and Mom try marriage counseling?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good.” He’d promised himself he would never say anything bad to Summer about her mother, but it was so tempting to set the record straight. Diane had been unfaithful and unrepentant. “Never mind.”

“Yeah, that’s right, brush off any talk of her. If you hadn’t been working all the time, maybe Mom wouldn’t have—”

“Maybe she wouldn’t have what?”

Summer looked away. “Nothing.”

Wouldn’t have had an affair? Was that what she’d been about to say? Adam picked up the wheelbarrow even though it was only half-full and pushed it quickly across the grass to the barn. Damn Diane for not being more discreet. It was bad enough that she’d cheated on him but to be so careless, so sleazy, around their daughter...

He didn’t know who her lover was and he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter. But he’d found evidence a few times when he’d come up for the weekend. Secretive phone calls, disappearing for unexplained long periods, an air of excitement that he knew darn well wasn’t about him.

“Hey, Dad, wait.” Summer caught up with him, panting from running. “Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He tipped the barrow and the wood tumbled out. Reaching for a piece, he wedged it into position on the top layer. “Place it bark-up and point-down, see?”

He simply couldn’t talk to Summer about the five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. It was possible she didn’t know about her mother’s lover. Maybe all Summer had meant was that if he’d been around more her mother wouldn’t have left their city apartment. Maybe she simply wished he’d cared enough to ask Diane to stay....

As angry as he was with Diane, he was guilty of working long hours. He didn’t want Summer to have bad feelings about her parents—or at least no more than any normal teenager. He’d known when Diane moved to Timbertop and he stayed in the city that their marriage was over. He wasn’t concerned about her affair for his sake, only for his daughter’s.

“I am though. Sorry.” Summer kicked at the ground and dislodged a pebble. “I’ve caused you both problems.”

“The divorce wasn’t your fault.” He’d said it a million times before but he kept saying it because he wasn’t convinced she believed it. Otherwise, why else had she gone off the rails? He didn’t think it could be only about Bailey.

“I know.”

“Do you?” He searched her face.

“Yeah. ’Course.” She lifted her chin, cocky and defiant. “It’s never the kid’s fault. That’s in all the books and movies. It’s the grown-ups that mess things up.”

He gave her a wry smile that was more of a grimace. “And kids never do.”

She dropped her gaze as a tinge of pink crept over her cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”

“Oh, Summer.” He pulled her into a clumsy hug. She hesitated, then her arms circled his waist. “I just wish I knew what was bothering you so much.”

“Nothing’s bugging me.” She pulled out of his embrace and turned away, dashing her gloved hand across her eyes. “I’ll push the wheelbarrow.”

Adam let her have a few minutes by herself and stacked the wood he’d just dropped. When he got back to the woodpile she seemed calmer, if no more talkative.

“I haven’t been able to find a therapist nearby,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. He never knew what would set her off. “On Monday I’ll start phoning around in Shepparton and Healesville.”

“It would take forever to drive there and back.”

That was a slight exaggeration but it would be a hassle. “It’s either that or move into the city.”

“No.” She redoubled her time moving logs.

They loaded wood in silence for a moment. When the barrow was full, Adam paused and said gently, “If you talked to me, maybe you wouldn’t need to see a therapist. I’m on your side, Summer. Can’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Her face looked as if it was about to crumble and he started to reach for her, to give her another hug. Surely now she would tell him what was worrying her. Then she drew in a breath and her features hardened into a brittle mask that was so unlike his young daughter he instinctively took a step back.

“For the last time,” she yelled, her hands clenched at the end of rigid arms. “There’s nothing wrong and I’m not hiding anything.”

She stomped back inside the house, slamming the kitchen door behind her so hard the windowpane over the sink rattled.

Adam stared after her, feeling sick. Her intensity, her fury—or was it fear?—was downright frightening. Something was seriously wrong. And she was hiding something.

* * *

HAYLEY EMERGED FROM the woodland trail on Major and dismounted in her yard. She tied him to the fence, removed his saddle and slung it over the top rail. Then she brushed him down, wiping away flecks of sweat and removing tiny burrs. Hopefully with better weather coming she would get some trail rides. It wasn’t easy exercising all the horses by herself.

Hayley bet Summer Banks would love to ride. She had nothing against the girl and would happily have her help exercise the horses. But how did she ask when she’d turned down Adam’s request so brusquely?

“All right, big fella. You’ll do,” she said, giving Major a scratch behind his golden ears. She exchanged his bridle for a halter and put him back in the paddock with the others.

Carrying the saddle over one arm, Hayley headed back to the garage, Shane at her heels. As she went through the door her phone rang. She placed the saddle on its wooden peg and pulled her phone out of her breast pocket, hoping the caller wouldn’t be her friend Jacinta or her mother or anyone who wanted a long chat. She barely had time for a quick lunch before her therapy session with Dave, a retired man in his sixties.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hayley, hi.” It was Ian Young, the director of the Horses for Hope program. Based in Shepparton, he coordinated the funding for her and two other horse therapists in the state.

“Hey, Ian.” She dropped the saddle next to the door and shrugged out of her jacket. “I hope you’re not calling because you have another rescue horse for me. I can barely afford to feed the ones I’ve got.”

She was only joking, as Ian well knew. If another horse needed saving she would be the first to put her hand up. However, she was down to her last ten bales of timothy and didn’t have a clue where the next lot was coming from. She probably shouldn’t have been too proud to take Adam’s offer of grazing. If it had been anyone else she would have jumped at it.

“No, it’s not another rescue horse. But how’s Bo doing?” Ian sounded down and distracted, unlike his usual upbeat self.

“Excellent. The mange has cleared up and his new coat is coming in nice and glossy. Drop in next time you’re up this way. Are you coming to the bushfire memorial next month?”

“I’ll be there.” His parents had lost their home and Ian had lost a good friend. The bushfires had touched so many lives. Everyone had lost someone, it seemed, or knew someone who had. “Hayley,” he began haltingly, “I’m sorry, but...”

“What?” A chill settled over her shoulders. Instinctively she knew he was no longer talking about the memorial service.

He cleared his throat. “The program is finished.”

“I beg your pardon?” She walked over to the couch and sank onto a lumpy cushion.

“The government cut our funding.”

For about two seconds she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then she got to her feet but she didn’t know where to go. “In the middle of the program? They can’t do that.”

“They did. Nearly a year has passed. People have forgotten. The state wants the money for something else, a new highway or a railway crossing. Who knows?” Ian sounded defeated.

“What about my clients? What am I going to tell them? These people need help.”

“They can still access social services for counseling.”

“They’ll be shunted onto a waiting list.” Needing air, she opened the door and wrapped an arm around her waist against the chill. “If they can see a regular therapist why can’t they see a horse therapist?”

“You know what it’s like, Hayley. The bean counters move their columns of numbers from one ledger sheet to another and suddenly they’re able to balance the budget even though no more money has come into the coffers. It’s sleight of hand.”

“But why pick on Horses for Hope?”

“According to the official letter I got it’s been deemed ‘nonessential.’”

“Nonessential?” Hayley repeated forcefully. “Tell that to Dave Green, who suffers survivor’s guilt because he couldn’t save his wife and granddaughter. Working with Bo has given him a reason to go on living.” Hayley went outside to pace the muddy yard ringed by the charred skeletons of trees. “Or Samantha, who spent six hours huddled in her car while the forest blazed around her. Her anxiety attacks make it impossible for her to work.”

“Hayley, calm down,” Ian said. “You don’t need to convince me of the program’s importance.”

“Who do I talk to in the government to restore funding? Tell me and I’ll be down there in Melbourne tomorrow on the steps of Parliament.”

“It won’t do any good. I’ve talked to them all. There’s simply no money left.”

“Are there any other agencies that might fund the program? I could get testimonials from my clients.”

“I’m pursuing other options. So far nothing has panned out. I’ll keep you updated.”

“So how long can I continue before I have to pull the plug? Next week, the week after?” Ian didn’t reply and his silence told the story. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Right away?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “We’ve been operating in the red for the past month, waiting for the next check. Now we find out it’s not coming. You need to call your clients now, today, and let them know there won’t be any more sessions.”

Hayley tried to catch her breath around the tightness in her chest. As well as her concern for her clients, there was the impact on her. Her primary livelihood was over as of this minute. Trail rides were few and far between, partly because it was too early in the season and partly because so many of the trails had been burned out.

And then there were her horses to think about. What would happen if she couldn’t afford to feed them? If she had to sell one or two, which would she choose? She loved them all. Asha was her own special horse, though she couldn’t ride her without difficulty. But how could she get rid of her when she’d been through so much? And Bo and Blaze, Sergeant and Major. All were so dear to her.

“I have to go,” Ian said heavily. “I’ve still got a few phone calls to make.”

Hayley said goodbye. She needed to call Dave. He was due here in half an hour. She couldn’t make herself do it, couldn’t bear to hear the sound of his disappointment.

Listlessly she picked up her mail. There was a notice from the electric company, warning if she didn’t pay her bill within two days she’d be cut off. Wonderful. The icing on the cake.

She glanced at the clock. She couldn’t put this call off any longer. Feeling sick in her heart, she reached for the phone and dialed. “Hey, Dave.”

“Not late, am I?” he said gruffly. “I was just about to head out to your place.”

Hayley pressed the phone to her chest and tried to pull in enough breath to continue.

“Hayley, you there?”

“I’m afraid I have bad news....”

* * *

ADAM DROPPED SUMMER off at school and continued on toward the main street shopping district, passing empty blackened lots interspersed with intact houses. He slowed as he passed a charred sign reading Hope Mountain Community Center. In the cleared area a large tent had been erected where donated goods were being redistributed.

He drove on, ruminating over how huge the loss of the community center was to a small town. His grandparents had relied on theirs as a hub of local social life. His grandmother in particular had spent a lot of time there with the Country Women’s Association.

His phone rang as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. He glanced at the caller ID. Diane, finally. “I see you got my messages. Thanks for calling back.”

“Sorry I’ve taken so long,” Diane said, sounding harried. “I’m at the hospital day and night.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

“Not great. They’re trying to stabilize her blood pressure and sugar levels before they operate. It’s now going to be a quadruple bypass rather than a triple.”

“That’s rough. Give her my best. I guess a box of her favorite chocolates wouldn’t be a good gift just now.”

Diane gave a weary laugh. “No, and no flowers, either. She’s developed hay fever from all the bouquets in her room.”

“I’ve been trying to call you to talk about Summer.”

“Is she still going on about getting another horse? I told her you’d have to approve it.”

“She wants a horse, yes, but that’s not the problem. She was caught shoplifting. She stole a pair of earrings from the local gift shop. Luckily the owner didn’t press charges, but this is serious.”

“She’s going through a phase. All kids do at that age.”

“Not all kids shoplift. She’s got real problems that need to be addressed. I can’t understand why you haven’t talked to me about her before this. Apparently she’s been in counseling at school for months.”

“You would have gotten a letter, same as I did.”

“I’m not absolving myself of responsibility. But hell, Diane, this is our child. Regardless of our own issues we have to do what’s right for her.”

“What do you suggest?” A note of tension crept into Diane’s voice. “I’ve got all I can handle taking care of my mother. There’s not much I can do for Summer from Sydney.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything. I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. I’m trying to find her a counselor outside school.” He paused, searching for tactful wording. “Is there anything else I should know about, anything going on in your life that might be upsetting Summer?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He’d never asked for details of her affair and he didn’t want them now—unless they were relevant to Summer. “That person you were seeing—”

“That’s over,” Diane said sharply. “And it had nothing to do with Summer. She’s fine, just moody like all teenagers. It’s hormones.”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“She barely speaks to me, either. Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The cardiologist is coming to see Mom and I want to talk to him about the operation.”

“Wait a sec. Do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”

“Recovery from this kind of operation is measured in months. Hopefully by Christmas, but I don’t know. I’m seriously considering moving back to Sydney to be closer to Mom.”

“That’s the impression I got before you left. How would you feel about putting the house up for sale once school’s out? I’d just as soon get rid of it. The fire danger makes this an unsafe area.”

“Hope Mountain’s okay once you get used to how small it is. But do what you like. I’m over the place.”

She’d bought the property on a whim and abandoned it without a second thought. Even though her change of heart fell in line with his plans, he asked, “What about Summer? She seems attached to the town, and she’s desperate for a horse.”

“She’ll love Sydney, too. Once she sees the beaches she’ll forget all about horses. Oh, there’s the cardiologist. Say hi to Summer for me and tell her I’ll call her soon.”

Adam said goodbye and hung up. He doubted Summer would forget her love for horses that quickly. Diane had been less than helpful where their daughter was concerned, but he supposed she was preoccupied with her mother. At least he had her blessing to sell the property.

He went inside the grocery store and pushed his shopping cart around the aisles, stocking up on fresh fruit and vegetables and consulting his list for staples they were low on. He wasn’t much of a cook but he would have to learn. Man could not live on Diet Delight alone.

He threw in a couple of frozen pizzas and some chips to keep Summer happy and on impulse added extra items to drop off at the distribution center. At last he proceeded to the checkout.

“Hey, how are you goin’?” The thirty-something woman at the till had a high black ponytail, bright red lipstick and a cheerful smile. Her name tag read Belinda.

“Not bad, Belinda. Yourself?” He unloaded the groceries methodically, putting the cold things together, next the cans and finally the fruit and vegetables.

“Oh, I’m okay. Or I will be once I sell my house and blow this crazy pop stand.”

Ah, someone else besides him who didn’t go into raptures about Hope Mountain. “You don’t like it here?”

She snorted. “It’s the pits. What’s so beautiful about burned-up mountains?”

“The fire danger’s a real concern,” Adam agreed.

“You’re telling me. Every house on our block went up in flames except ours. My husband went out and bought ten lottery tickets. Me, I called Mort.”

“Who’s Mort?”

“The real estate agent. Thank God his office didn’t burn. I listed our house first thing. Bob, my husband, thinks I’m a coward. I told him, ‘You can stay but I’m getting out.’”

Diane had been working part-time for a local Realtor before she’d gone to Sydney—Mort must have been her boss. “Well, Belinda, I happen to think you’re smart for not wanting to live in a fire-prone region.”

“Thanks very much. You’re pretty smart yourself.” She scanned a box of cereal and bagged it. “Are you a local? I figure you must be with all the groceries you’re buying. No one buys four bags of sugar for the weekend. But if you don’t know Mort...” She trailed off, waiting for an explanation.

“I live here for now.”

“How long are you staying?” Belinda seemed to have all the time in the world to chat. And apparently she thought he did, too.

“I don’t know. Four or five months. Six tops.”

She swung the filled bag over to the loading area and started on the next. “I’d say that makes you a local.”

“No, really, I’m just passing through.”

She cocked her head with an infectious grin. “But slowly.”

He smiled back at her. “Yeah, slowly.”

Too slowly for his liking. In business he was the hare, not the tortoise. He moved quickly and decisively. Now he had to put on the brakes and wait for Summer to heal.

Belinda cracked her gum. “So what’s the deal, are you trying to sell your house and not getting any bites? Join the club.”

Now she had his attention. “Are that many people leaving? There seems to be a lot of building going on.”

“People are either determined to stay or determined to leave. It all depends. So what’s holding you up?”

“It’s complicated.” Did people really spill their guts to complete strangers in this town? He never had conversations like this with the guy at the convenience store below his apartment building. He liked Belinda all right, but he wasn’t sure he wanted a heart-to-heart with her.

“Hold your cards close to your chest, don’t you? That’s okay. We all got personal shit going on. I won’t even ask you about all the sugar.”

Adam smiled. “Two bags for me. Two for a friend.”

“Sweet on her, are ya?” Belinda winked at him.

He chuckled. Not likely.

“If you ask me,” Belinda went on. “The government should buy us all out and bulldoze the town. Everyone should move someplace where the firefighters have a chance to put out the fire and where residents can get out safely. There’s only one road in and out of this place. It was cut off in three spots. People were trapped.”

“But there were warnings of extreme fire danger,” Adam said. “People should have left earlier.”

“Maybe so. But folks have a legal right to stay and defend their property.” Belinda stacked the last grocery bag in the cart and rang up the total. “That’ll be one hundred and fifty-five dollars and twenty-eight cents. Any cash out?”

Adam handed over his credit card, then checked his wallet. He had only sixty dollars on him. “I’ll have an extra hundred, thanks.”

She rang it through and passed him two fifty-dollar bills. Adam dropped them both into the bushfire rebuilding donation jar on the counter. “I can’t believe the town is relying on spare change to fund a new community center.”

“There’s a long list of stuff that needs replacing. The primary school, the maternal health clinic, half the police station...” Belinda shrugged. “It’s all going to take time, I guess. They have to start somewhere.”

He threw in another fifty from his wallet, leaving himself ten dollars.

Belinda’s eyes widened. “Thanks, er...”

“Adam.” He gathered up his bags. “Nice to meet you, Belinda.”

“Same.” She grinned widely. “See you around.”

“I hope not.” When she looked surprised, he added, “If I don’t, it’ll mean you sold your house and got out.”

Belinda laughed and cocked a finger at him. “Gotcha.”

Adam piled the groceries into the car and continued on down the main street, brooding on the state of the town. Nine months on there was still the faint whiff of burned wood in the air. Or was that his imagination?

He wasn’t a coward, dammit. People like him and Belinda were being sensible. Why didn’t more townsfolk cut their losses and start new lives elsewhere?

Spying the real estate office, he parked out front and went inside.

A balding man with a perfectly pressed dark suit and a white smile rose from behind a desk, buttoning his jacket. He held out a hand. “G’day. Mort Brooks. What can I do for you?”

“Adam Banks. I live out of town at a place called Timbertop. Diane Banks is my ex-wife. I believe she used to work for you.”

“Yes, nice to meet you,” Mort said. “I was sorry Diane had to leave. Although business isn’t exactly booming so it’s probably for the best. How is she? How’s her mother doing?”

Seemed like the whole town knew your business if you spent any amount of time in the place. To be fair, Mort genuinely seemed to care, and that was kind of nice. “As well as can be expected. She hasn’t had the operation yet.”

“If you talk to her, tell her I said hey.”

“Will do.” Adam glanced around the empty office. “Diane doesn’t plan on returning to Hope Mountain, and I don’t intend to stay long. I’d like to have Timbertop valued and put up for sale this summer.”

Mort’s smile dimmed. “You and a hundred other folks in the area. Nothing’s moving in this glutted market.”

“My place isn’t burned. It’s intact. Great location with views, horse stables and paddocks, five acres...” He trailed away as Mort, looking more like a funeral director than a Realtor, shook his head glumly.

“I’ll value it for you and I can put it on the market, no problem. But fantastic properties are going at bargain-basement prices. The question you have to ask yourself is—are you willing to take a bath on the place?”

Adam thought about it for all of five seconds. “I’ll take whatever I can get for it. It’ll be worthless to me if it burns to the ground.”

“Is it insured?” Mort asked.

“Yes, of course, but I wouldn’t rebuild.” He dragged a hand over the back of his neck. What if he was stuck with this white elephant? It wouldn’t hurt him too much financially, but the house was part of Diane’s divorce settlement and she would need another place to live. Morally speaking, he didn’t owe her another house, but he still felt responsible for her. And of course he was responsible for Summer.

Unless Summer could be persuaded to live with him.

He hadn’t realized until he’d come back to Hope Mountain just how much he missed his daughter and how nice it was to have her around, even in her black moods. They’d grown estranged over the past year and he wanted to reconnect. If she moved to Sydney with Diane he’d have an even harder time seeing her.

But she would stay with him if he kept Timbertop....

No way. The trees hadn’t suddenly grown asbestos bark.

Mort made a note in his day planner, a big book open on the desk. “I’ll come out next week and take photos. You never know. There are people picking up properties simply because they’re cheap. And there’s talk of a government buy-back scheme. You might qualify.”

“Can you time your visit during school hours? My daughter doesn’t know yet that I’m planning to sell.”

“No worries.”

No worries. He wished. Not telling Summer his intentions felt like a betrayal. Would she want to live with him after he sold the home she loved—even if he was doing it for her own good?

He drove back through town past the many construction sites. The townsfolk determined to rebuild were misguided. It was like building on a flood plain or in an earthquake zone. Just plain dumb. And yet people did it over and over again—that was how strongly they felt about a certain geographical location they called home.

A tiny part of him admired their resolve. Maybe he just wished he had a place that felt like home no matter what. Having a father in the armed forces, he’d been uprooted as a child more times than he could remember. The closest he’d come to a permanent home had been his grandparents’ farm. He and his brothers had spent most summers there with his mom while his dad was serving overseas.

Later, after he’d married, he and Diane had owned two houses in the city. Diane was into decorating, and they’d felt more like showrooms than homes. Give him a lived-in look any day. His apartment...well, he didn’t spend enough time there for it to look lived in.

Someday he would build his dream home. He’d designed it in his head many times, changing small details as he refined his ideas. It would be by the ocean, with a special place for him to put his drafting table. Mostly he worked on computers, but he still liked drawing by hand. The house would be filled with light from floor-to-ceiling windows. Bifold doors would open the house to the elements and let out onto a huge deck looking onto the water.

He pulled into the parking lot next to the distribution center and unloaded two bags of groceries. He carried them through the group of people milling in front of the counter. One half of the tent was given over to clothing, kitchenware and smaller items like books and even CDs. In the back were the major appliances. A man was trying to wrestle a fridge off a dolly and into place next to a washing machine.

Adam caught the eye of a fifty-something woman who was volunteering behind the counter. “Where do I put these?” he asked.

“I’ll take them.” She peered into one of the bags. “Meat, eggs, cheese... Fantastic. Thank you so much, er...?”

“Adam Banks. No big deal.” He nodded at the man with the fridge. “He looks like he could use a hand. Should I?”

“Oh, please do. There’s a whole truckload of heavy appliances to bring in. People have been so generous that some days we don’t have enough manpower to sort and store stuff.”

Adam thought of his own groceries growing warm in the trunk of his car. It wasn’t a hot day. How long could it take to unload a truck? The milk and meat would keep for an hour. Too bad about the ice cream. “How do I get back there?”

* * *

HAYLEY PARKED HER truck in the main street, on the diagonal, outside Molly’s Gift Shop Café. Shane sat up beside her in the passenger seat. He went everywhere with her, and she was especially glad of his moral support today. Sensing her discomfort, he put a paw on her leg and gave her a soulful look.

She ruffled the fur around his neck. “I’m okay, Shane. Just girding my loins, so to speak.”

Working with horses was what she did—lessons, trail rides, therapy. Selling postcards and pouring coffee was a big step backward, to the days before she’d found a way to make a living working with horses and being outdoors.

Being in town wouldn’t be so bad. At least there were the cheerful sounds of rebuilding going on. The clock tower in the middle of the main street had already been repaired and colorful petunias had been planted around its base. The pub on the corner was nearly ready to welcome locals back for counter meals and karaoke nights. It would be good for her to be around people more often.

“Hayley!” A petite brunette with shoulder-length curls rapped at her window. Jacinta, her best friend and the town librarian, motioned to her to roll down the window.

“What are you doing roaming the streets in the middle of the day?” Hayley got out of the truck and gave her friend a hug. As they moved to the sidewalk Shane bounded through the open door and sat at Hayley’s heel. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the library shushing someone?”

Jacinta laughed. “Between the resident poet holding forth every lunch hour and the book club ladies yakking, the place is pretty darn noisy.”

“Guess it’s a while since I’ve been to the library. I don’t have much time to read these days.”

“We haven’t caught up in ages.” Jacinta touched Hayley’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “You okay? Your eyes are all puffy. You haven’t been crying, have you?”

“Horses for Hope’s funding got cut.” Yesterday had been one long tear fest as she’d rung client after client, giving them the bad news. She’d told Dave she would treat him for free until funding came in from somewhere. He’d thanked her and refused, pointing out that she would need to get another job. She’d started to protest before realizing he was right.

She wasn’t even going to mention to Jacinta that her electricity had been cut off, too—a day earlier than threatened. Bastards. Well, she’d lived without power for a month in the immediate aftermath of the fires. She could manage again. Which reminded her: she needed to buy candles.

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Jacinta hugged her again. “I could go for an early lunch if you want to talk.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got something I need to do.”

Jacinta saw the direction of her gaze, to Molly’s shop, and frowned. “You’re not going to move in with Leif’s folks?”

“No.” She noted the quickly hidden relief on her friend’s face. “Why don’t you like Molly and Rolf? They’re wonderful. I’m closer to them than to my own parents.”

“They’re great. I have nothing against them. It’s just that...” Jacinta rubbed Hayley’s arm soothingly. “I know you’re still grieving and everything, but I’d like to see you move on at some point.”

“I am moving on, really. Molly and Rolf are friends, not just my in-laws. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“Sure, but they keep you in the past.”

“I’m not going to cut them off.” They were practically the only people she saw regularly these days.

“Hey, I have a date on Friday with Jeremy, a pharmacist from Healesville. Do you want me to see if he has a friend?”

“Thanks, no. I’m good.”

“Hayley, you never get out anymore,” Jacinta accused. “You’re in danger of turning into a crazy horse lady, sitting home cleaning your bridles and knitting pullovers.”

“I’ll call you soon.” Hayley eased away from Jacinta, toward the Gift Shop Café. “We’ll get drunk and dance with cowboys.”

Grinning, Jacinta pointed a finger. “One of these days we are so going to do that.”

Dancing with cowboys in bars had been a joke between them since high school. Jacinta was an academic type and would sooner ride a bucking bronco than date a cowboy. And Hayley had been with Leif since graduation. Party girls they were not. But they’d never worried about it, being content with their lives. Now, as they closed in on their mid-thirties and Jacinta was still single and Hayley newly so, the joke seemed a tad less funny.

Hayley waved goodbye, then braced herself to go inside. She couldn’t dwell on the past. She had to look to the future. She was alive and healthy and determined to write her own story, not give up or blame fate for her misfortune. And how could she complain when she had a job she could just walk into for the asking?

“Sit, Shane.” The dog sat obediently. “Stay.”

Hayley took a deep breath and entered, setting the bell over the door jangling. To the right was the café with a meal counter, tables along the window and a small kitchen out the back. On the opposite side was the gift shop selling local handicrafts, paintings and Australiana. The place was empty except for Molly, who was behind the counter putting price stickers on koala key rings.

Molly glanced up at the bell and her round face brightened. “’Morning, Hayley. So nice of you to stop by.”

Hayley returned her mother-in-law’s warm smile. Truly, she had more blessings to count than things to complain about. “I’d like to accept your offer of a job, after all.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Molly leaned over the counter and gave her a hug, scattering the key rings.

They got coffee and sat in the café and talked about the job. Molly was terrific, telling Hayley she could have as many or as few hours as she wanted, making Hayley wonder if she really needed help or if this was a form of charity. But she couldn’t afford to be proud, so together they worked out a schedule that suited both of them.

“It’s a darn shame about the Horses for Hope program,” Molly said for the twentieth time, as Hayley prepared to leave.

“It is what it is.” Hayley shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.” She’d racked her brain all night on possible sources of funding and had come up with nothing but a headache. “Thanks again. I’ll see you Wednesday morning.”

Molly walked her to the door. “I’m so glad we’ll get to spend more time together. Ever since Leif...Well, it isn’t the same without you around. At least with you, Rolf and I can talk about our boy and remember all the good times we had.”

“Yeah.” Hayley’s smile faltered. Maybe Jacinta had a point. Sometimes with Molly and Rolf, she felt as though she was living in the past. She’d loved Leif and wanted to honor his memory, but some memories hurt.

Occasionally, in the morning before she was fully awake, she would forget what had happened and reach for him only to find the other side of the bed cold and bare. She’d open her eyes and see the roller door and the tools hanging on the walls, and reality would crash in on her. All that kept her going some days was her and Leif’s dream of building a full-time dude ranch. She loved the horse therapy, but she’d held that other dream so long it would feel like failure if she didn’t carry it out.

“Stay for lunch?” Molly said. “I made Thai green curry for today’s special.”

“Tempting, but I can’t. I’ve got another stop to make this afternoon.” If she wanted to keep her dream alive, she had to swallow her pride and take care of her horses. Simple as that. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

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