Miracle in Bellaroo Creek. Barbara Hannay

‘I lost it. I had a miscarriage.’

      He looked shocked. ‘No.’

      ‘It’s the truth,’ she said tightly, but she saw doubt and suspicion in his storm-cloud eyes and realised, to her horror, that he wasn’t going to believe her.

      Damn him.

      He was pacing now, clearly baffled and probably angry.

      ‘Ed, this isn’t something I’d lie about. I was in a hospital, not an abortion clinic. I really wanted my baby.’ Her lips trembled and she drew a sharp breath, but she was determined that she wouldn’t dissolve into tears. The fainting spell had been bad enough. She had to be strong to stand up to this man.

      ‘If you don’t believe me, get that PI you hired to check out the RPA Hospital. I’m sure he’ll be able to ferret out the proof you need.’

      ‘Milla, don’t be like that.’

      ‘Don’t be like what?’ Her voice was shrill, but that was too bad. ‘I’ll give you don’t. Don’t you dare look at me like I’m lying about something that meant everything to me.’

      Now she was so mad and upset she was shaking.

      ‘OK, I apologise.’ He stood before her, with his hands once again in his jeans pockets, his shoulders squared, his jaw tight, his eyes a battlefield where doubt and sympathy warred.

      It was late afternoon and a wintry chill made Milla shiver. Shadows crept across the thick stone sill of the bakery window and spread along the brick walls and the ancient and worn stone floor. In the fading light, she could see that Ed looked deeply tired.

      He’d had a long journey from New York and he’d probably driven straight from the airport. He had to be dead on his feet.

      ‘I’m sorry about the baby,’ he said quietly.

      ‘I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.’

      The slightest hint of a smile flickered, giving a cynical tilt to his lips, but his eyes continued to regard her solemnly.

      It was so not the right moment to remember the one time he’d kissed her. But the memory came, unbidden, bringing rivers of heat rushing under her clothes.

      ‘Maybe we can have a more civilised discussion about everything over dinner,’ he suggested.

      ‘There’s nothing to discuss.’

      ‘Milla, I’m not the Cavanaugh who stuffed up your life. Surely we can share a meal before I go back.’

      Perhaps she was overreacting. ‘I guess. But there’s really only one place in town to eat and that’s the pub.’

      ‘I’ll need to check in to the hotel. You’re still staying there, aren’t you?’

      Milla nodded. ‘Until I get this place cleaned up.’

      ‘This place?’ Frowning, Ed looked around the bakery as if he was seeing it for the first time. His steely gaze took in the metal tables, the big gas cooker, the trolleys and baking trays and bins, the massive oven that filled the far wall. Finally, his gaze rested on the brooms and mop and bucket in the corner. ‘Are you having the bakery cleaned?’

      ‘In a manner of speaking—except I’m the one doing the cleaning.’

      This time, Ed didn’t even try to hide his disbelief.

      ‘I’m not only cleaning the bakery. I plan to get it up and running again.’ Before he could comment, Milla hurried to explain. ‘The former owners went broke, along with several other businesses here, and the local council is offering peppercorn rent for people willing to restart. I’ve put in an application for this bakery and, as far as I know, no one else is interested.’

      ‘I’m not surprised,’ he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. ‘One question.’ He stared at her again. ‘Why?’

      ‘My family used to own this bakery. I know how to run a place like this. I grew up here.’

      Still, Ed looked puzzled. ‘So?’

      Milla sighed. How did she explain everything she’d seen and felt since her arrival in Bellaroo Creek? How could she explain her longing to do something meaningful after years of unfulfilling luxury and wastefulness?

      This billionaire standing before her in his high-end designer-label jeans and polo shirt couldn’t possibly understand how the resurrection of this humble country bakery was an important chance to do something positive, not just for herself, but for a whole community.

      ‘The town needs help, Ed. Bellaroo Creek is on the brink of extinction, but a local committee has started a plan to rescue it. Everything hinges on keeping the school open, so they’re inviting families to rent farmhouses for a dollar a week.’

      ‘Desperate families.’

      ‘People who want to make a new start,’ Milla defended. ‘People looking for fresh air and something better than a dark backstreet alley for their kids to play in. A place where people know each other by name and have a sense of community.’

      ‘You’ve been brainwashed, haven’t you?’

      ‘I’m looking for a way of life that makes me feel fulfilled,’ she said hotly. ‘And this is something I’m determined to do without touching my ex’s money.’

      His mouth tightened. ‘It’s a knee-jerk reaction, Milla. You’re not being rational.’

      ‘I’m not asking for your approval, Ed.’

      ‘Look, I said I’m sorry about the baby, and I am, honestly, more than you can guess. And hell, I’m sorry your marriage to my brother didn’t work out—but I know business and commerce inside out, and I know for absolute certainty that you’ll regret this.’

      ‘I really don’t want to fight about it,’ she said firmly but decisively.

      After all, what she did with her life now was her business. The Cavanaughs no longer had any kind of hold on her.

      However, Ed had no choice but to stay in Bellaroo Creek tonight and the pub was his only accommodation option. ‘As you said, we can try for a civilised conversation over dinner.’

      ‘I’m glad you agree.’

      ‘At least we won’t be able to yell at each other in the pub dining room.’

      ‘That’s a relief.’

      ‘The chef is Chinese,’ Milla told him. ‘And he’s pretty good. I think you’ll like his duck with mushrooms.’

      Ed’s eyebrows lifted and, at last, there was a hint of a smile. ‘Duck with mushrooms way out here?’

      ‘Bellaroo Creek has one or two surprises.’

      ‘OK. Sounds good.’ He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and noted the time. ‘I need to check in.’

      It was, at best, a temporary truce, but Milla let out a huff of relief.

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately, Sherry, the girl on the reception desk, isn’t as professional as the chef. There are so few people who check in here, she often wanders off to help in the kitchen or the laundry. Sometimes you have to go hunting for her.’

      * * *

      Five minutes later, having checked the pub’s bar, the lounge, the dining room, the laundry and the kitchen without unearthing Sherry, Milla returned to Reception to find Ed in a spindly wooden chair with his eyes shut and his long legs stretched in front of him. He seemed to be asleep, although he looked dreadfully uncomfortable.

      ‘Ed.’ She touched his knee and he woke with a start. ‘I can’t find the reception girl and you look like you need to sleep.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, blinking and frowning as he got to his feet.

      ‘You’re