One Small Miracle. Melissa James

to hold in the tears. ‘How can you even think I could—?’

      Not a muscle in his face moved. He looked like the red rocks of the Kimberleys: wind-blasted, refusing to falter or weather away under pressure—and, illogically, she felt the stirring of arousal return. Was she a masochist, yearning for a man who didn’t know how to feel? ‘Just give me the promise, Anna. Then I’ll do whatever it takes to give you that baby.’

      Something turned to lead within her. She knew what he was demanding—her, back in his bed; back in his life and world. The Curran–West dynasty intact, with no more embarrassing sep-arations…and she knew, looking in his eyes, he had another brilliant plan for them to have a baby. His baby, at least.

      She ought to have known he wouldn’t let her bail on him, or the life he loved. The opinion of their neighbours—his reputation, and keeping his promise to Bryce Curran, the only person he’d ever looked up to—meant that much to him.

      He didn’t want Melanie—but she couldn’t see what he did want, or what he was planning. She only knew when he had an ace up his sleeve, and he always knew when to play it. This was only step one. He wanted his wife to come home with him—to share his bed again—and wasn’t above using Melanie to get what he wanted.

      All or nothing: that was Jared. Win at any cost.

      She closed her eyes, shutting him out as her mind raced. She’d survived five years of marriage with plenty of desire and Jarndirri to bond them, but no love—at least on his side. She was a Curran, a strong Outback woman. And love it or hate it, Jarndirri was still home. She could never deny that. Love and hate and grief, it held her captive as strongly as it did Jared.

      ‘You have my word.’ She looked at him, and to her surprise felt only sadness as she said, ‘But you need to know the truth. I’m only doing it for Rosie, and for Melanie. I would never have called you but for this dilemma. I’d never go back to you willingly, if I didn’t have to. I want a life of my own. I was waiting until the year was up to divorce you.’

      ‘And you’ve made me thoroughly aware of that fact for the past five months,’ he said, his voice rich with irony, yet somehow as dry as dust.

      Hearing some unaccustomed feeling beneath the coldness he was projecting, she wished it was different, that she could be happy about returning. ‘I’m sorry, Jared. That’s the way it is.’

      At least, it was the way it had to be. She had a few weeks to convince the authorities they were a united couple—if spending those weeks in Jared’s bed could give her Melanie, a life and a future without the unbearable agony of the past year, she’d do it. Then, when she had the stamped, legal adoption papers in her hands, she’d prove to Jared it really was over. She’d make him believe she didn’t care about anything but Melanie. If she could prove to him that he no longer had the power to move or hurt her, she’d walk away with her baby, and he’d be free to find a woman who could give him what she no longer could.

      He’d thank her for it one day.

      ‘Then come home,’ he said, with no emotion at all now, not even triumph. ‘I assume you have everything packed?’

      And even though she deserved it, something inside her churned at his uncaring tone. She’d turned him off at last; she should be rejoicing. He was on his way to accepting it was over—if she could hold it together, stay strong, he’d let her go when the adoption went through, let her go find a life with Melanie, and he’d…

      She shuddered at the thought of the man who’d always been hers belonging to anyone else— having the children he’d craved from her, and she’d yearned to give.

      This was a sacrifice she had to be prepared to make. Part of her would always care about Jared, would always ache and burn when he moved on and had those children, but she couldn’t live the life he loved any more. Why shouldn’t he find happiness with a woman who wanted the life she’d abandoned?

      ‘Yes, I have everything packed, and given notice to my landlord.’ She kept her tone cool, reserved. ‘I’ve closed the store until further notice.’

      ‘Good. So drink the coffee. I assume we wait until the baby’s awake.’

      ‘Her name’s Melanie,’ she amended through clenched jaws.

      He shrugged and reached for his coffee, downing it in a gulp. He never minded drinking it however he found it, hot or cold. ‘I’m heading out. I have my phone. Call me when she wakes.’

      He was out the door before she could speak. A chill raced down her neck, leaving her shivering with cold in the oppressive Kimberley heat. He was withdrawing from her at last, giving up—and though she ought to be celebrating, although she should think ahead to her life with Melanie, all she felt was a curious regret, an unfathomable emptiness.

      Jared made it as far as the other end of the path leading to the beach from her place, safe from her sight, before his legs couldn’t go farther. He heaved in breaths that seemed to take no air in because he kept wheezing. He held onto one of the thick trunks used for fencing posts along the track, bent almost double over it, dizzy and sick. He’d made it to the end of their deal without showing her what she’d done to him. He wouldn’t be weak, like his father had been with his mother, using love to make her stay, pleading for her to fix the unfixable…

       I’d never go back to you willingly.

      He kept his eyes squeezed tight shut. He hadn’t realised how much hearing the words would hurt, because Anna wouldn’t lie to him. If she said it, she meant it.

      ‘No. It’s grief speaking. She doesn’t know what she wants,’ he gasped through gritted teeth, between gasping breaths. ‘It’s not over. She’ll come back to me. She’ll love Jarndirri again once she’s there. Everything will be like it used to be. I just—need—to stick to the plan.’

      That was it: he needed to focus on the final result. This was no different from his other long-term plans. He’d had no results from planting the saltbush until two seasons had passed. He’d planted crops every year, not knowing if they’d be harvested or fail. He’d plant seeds with Anna now, give her everything she wanted, and wait to reap the benefits.

      But what did she want? He knew squat about women’s emotional needs, but some gut-deep instinct told him he hadn’t reached the heart of her need to run from Jarndirri. Or why she’d needed to run from him.