Digital ISBNs
EPUB 978-1-77362-708-3
Kindle 978-1-77362-709-0
WEB 978-1-77362-710-6
Print ISBN 978-1-77362-711-3
Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77362-712-0
Copyright 2017 by Tricia McGill
Cover art by Michelle Lee
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
* * *
This one is for all lovers of sport, whatever your choice. I’m not a very sporty person and to be honest seldom take an interest in what Aussies call “footy”. During my years in England my husband and I lived within shouting distance of the Arsenal soccer ground in North London, and all my brothers, my uncles, and my husband followed this team devotedly. When we came to Australia my husband shifted his alliance to an Aussie footy team (but never abandoned his love of Arsenal). Aussie Rules footy is unique and I will never understand the game, but every country town supports their team, and when times get tough it is the sport that holds the community together and lifts them up. The inspiration for this book came from watching one of these country matches years ago and I found the whole experience extraordinary even though I had no idea of the rules of the game.
Amy savoured the peace of this perfect morning. Summer was slipping gracefully into autumn, and it was good to be alive on such a day. Her bicycle rattled over the bumps on the rough path skirting Yewbank. Not a cloud marred the sky, and a gentle breeze barely stirred the river, or her hair. Amy looked with warm approval on the serene beauty of the countryside she loved. Most of the younger townsfolk left Yewbank as soon as they were able to take off to the big cities, and some probably thought her odd, but she’d never longed to explore far horizons.
“Hey, Goldie, get out of that bush and stop terrorising the sparrows.” At her mild command the bundle of feline fur she’d admonished hopped sideways, leapt in the air, and came to join a squat, ugly dog trailing the bicycle. The dog, which looked remarkably like a cross between a corgi and a wombat, wore an expression much like a grin. Both animals were rescued from death by Amy. Apart from being of indeterminate breeding, both were obviously sure they were as human as this person they followed slavishly.
When the dog meandered into some bushes as the trio made their way through the woods, Amy warned, “Jess, you leave the magpies alone. You wouldn’t know what to do with one if you caught it.” Head turned toward the wandering dog, Amy didn’t see the jogging man until he drew level with her bicycle. “Oh.” She halted, one foot on the ground as he stopped, bending slightly to rest his hands on his knees as he dragged in a few deep breaths.
Amy gripped the handlebars when her hands began to shake slightly. Goldie miaowed loudly and took a leap toward the man, whose breathing was slightly laboured.
“Still surrounded by a menagerie of misfits,” he drawled, bending to stroke the cat that now sidled around his well-muscled calves.
Trying to appear nonchalant in the presence of the only man who ever made her turn to jelly by merely being within touching distance, Amy flicked her hair out of her eyes. He picked Goldie up, and the stupid mutt now purred like a steam engine as he stroked her plump belly.
“Good morning, Andrew.” Carefully removing the cat from his arms, Amy gently placed it in the basket in front of her handlebars. Goldie nonchalantly began to clean her paws. “I heard you were back in town.” Amy looked him up and down. “Trying to work off the effects of soft city living?”
Still keeping eye contact with Amy, he bent to stroke Jess, now also smooching up to him. “City living, for me at least, is anything but soft. In fact my lifestyle is so hectic I’m feeling jaded of late.”
Amy eyed him. One thing he certainly didn’t look was jaded. Andrew always had been fit and always prided himself on his athletic ability.
“I’ve been working long hours for quite some time, and it’s caught up with me. To be honest I’ve come home for a rest.”
So that answered her silent query. She’d been dying to know just why he’d returned to their small hometown. “How long will you be staying this time?” She tried to sound disinterested. As though she really couldn’t care less if he stayed a day or forever.
He finger combed his windswept black hair. “That depends.”
“Ah, depends on how long you can stand to stay here in this back block, you mean.”
He glanced about. “At this stage of my life this back block, as you so quaintly put it, is highly appealing to a worn-out old city bloke.” With an absent gesture he massaged the juncture of his neck and his shoulder.
“How’s the shoulder?” she asked. “Still bothering you?” In his early football playing days he’d broken his collarbone and stubbornly continued playing with the bones grating against each other.
He shrugged. “Not a lot. Since the docs’ inserted the pin I only get the occasional twinge.”
Then, after a collision with a massive opponent left him in a crumpled heap on the field, he’d thrown in the towel as far as football was concerned. Unconscious, he’d been rushed to hospital with an injured knee. Soon after that, at the age of twenty-three, to the sorrow of his team mates, he decided never to return to football.
“How’s your knee?” With a glance at that part of him, she swallowed. He had just about the most perfect legs she’d ever seen on any man. Point was, everything about him was nigh on perfect.
He flexed his leg and shrugged again. “Since the reconstruction it’s been no real problem.”
Amy dragged her glance from him to her watch. If she didn’t get a move on she would be late for work, and that would never do. Much as she hated to leave Andrew she had to go, for her boss despised tardiness. “I have to fly,” she said. Jobs in the small town were hard to come by, and she enjoyed working in the bank. Mr. Mortimer, her boss, wasn’t so bad. A friend of her father’s, he’d encouraged Amy to attend evening classes to further her computer skills.
With a wave she hoped appeared careless, she pedalled off, the dog loping at her side, the cat still perched majestically in the basket. “See you around,” she flung over a shoulder.
“You sure will,” Andrew called after her.
* * *
Jess slipped through the gap in the fence as Amy leaned her bicycle on the wall outside the back door of the big old-fashioned house her parents had lived in since their marriage.
The two animals followed Amy into the kitchen. While the cat drank the milk poured for her with gusto, Jessie waited patiently for a biscuit, which she took off with through the cat door to eat in the garden.
Amy’s mother looked up at the clock midway through pouring a cup of tea for Ed, whose nose was buried in the morning newspaper, saying, “You’d better get a move on.”
“Yes, I know. I ran into someone on our walk.” Not stopping to explain who that someone was, Amy dashed into the bathroom.
As she showered, Amy reflected on the meeting with Andrew. It was humiliating to admit she still yearned for his attentions. That was something she should have grown out of long ago. Mental discipline was what she needed now. Why hadn’t she got over this infatuation when he left town to settle in Melbourne? The fact that they’d barely seen each other in the past couple of years should have helped in her quest, but sadly had not.
Andrew was twelve and Tony four when their parents were tragically killed in an accident and they came to live with their Aunt in Yewbank. Although their Aunt Mary had always been considered eccentric, nobody could fault the love she held for the two orphaned boys. Their father had been a great footballer, and the townsfolk still talked of the days when he led Yewbank to victory. It seemed only natural that the boys follow his tradition, and Amy kicked a football around with them from the moment her legs grew strong enough to manage it. She would have joined the team if girls were allowed, but had to be satisfied with being the team mascot instead.
The three of them were inseparable until Andrew reached fifteen. Then, inevitably, he’d sought friends his own age. Amy’s jealousy grew as she watched Andrew flirt his way through his teenage years.
Amy sighed as she towelled herself. She would marry Tony one day soon and forget about his arrogant, worthless brother who hurt her and rejected her.
Forget him! Who was she kidding? A difficult enough task when he was in the city and out of her orbit, but how would she cope with him back in town?
* * *
Amy waved to a couple of people as she walked the short distance to the bank. Although she’d taken and passed her driving test two years ago, she hadn’t felt the need to buy a car. She loved to walk, and when she went into nearby towns for the occasional shopping trip, Tony willingly drove her. When the football team played away from home there was always someone ready to give her a lift.
Yewbank sat splendidly on the Sydney road about two hours’ drive from Melbourne, and although now bypassed by the main highway, was still a thriving, busy town. The bank was situated in a restored historical landmark. Amy loved its brown, age-mellowed brick façade and the ornate and imposing entrance. Often she wondered if she was weird; certainly a lot of her contemporaries deserted the town and hastened to the cities.
After tidying her hair in the rest room she took her place behind the counter, greeting her fellow tellers and other staff members. Barely had she sat down when Tony strolled in. The Bowen boys were both strikingly handsome, dark and tall. But where their looks were similar their characters were miles apart. Tony was happy-go-lucky, everybody’s buddy, and carefree, while Andrew was inclined to be brooding and serious, enigmatic some might say.
Leaning casually on the counter in front of her window, Tony grinned. “Morning, Amy, you beautiful ray of sunshine.” He gave her a mischievous wink as he handed over his bank book. Amy knew exactly how much he earned, and how much he saved out of his earnings. His open honesty was one of the many endearing qualities he possessed. Why wasn’t there more of a spark between them? If only she could lust after him as she did his brother. But that charismatic spark just wasn’t there.
She’d be an idiot to turn down someone so trusting and trustworthy though, wouldn’t she? Knowing everything about your partner should be a perfect foundation for marriage shouldn’t it?
“Hello, Tony.” She sighed as she took care of his banking. It was only as she handed back his book that she realised he wasn’t looking her way. In fact his attention seemed to be riveted on Samantha Robinson, who was paying an inordinate amount of attention to her money drawer, even though she’d already tended that before Tony arrived.
“Coming to watch practice tonight?” Tony turned back to look at Amy.
“How could I not?” She gave him a grin. “The town’s star player starts practice for the new season. Every female within a hundred kilometre radius will be there.”
“You reckon?”
“How could we resist watching you all cavort around in those shorts of yours?” Amy chuckled.
“Did you know Andrew’s back—for a short stay?” Tony now waved to Samantha who had finally taken her nose out of her drawer and was looking their way, her cheeks unusually flushed. Amy’s suspicions were confirmed. Sam had a crush on Tony. She’d suspected it for some time. But how he felt about her was something Amy needed to think seriously about.
“I bumped into your big brother on my bike ride this morning. He said he’s trying to get back in form.”
Tony nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, we’re trying to convince him to fill old Bert’s shoes. We need a decent player coach if we’re going to get anywhere near the top of the league ladder. Bert is far too complacent. The team’s a good bunch of guys but they take advantage of his kind heart. They need someone to motivate them—point them in the right direction. Andrew would be welcomed with open arms.”
“But that would mean Andrew committing himself for the entire winter.” Something she didn’t for one moment believe he would do. “Do you honestly think he’d leave his business interests for so long?”
“I reckon he would. Anyway, he’s thinking of selling his share to his partner, did you know that?”
“No.” She stared at him finding the news hard to believe.
“I know he’s getting sick of the long hours, responsibility, and hard grind. As a matter of fact he’s on the lookout for something smaller to sink his well-earned fortune into.”
Fortune? Amy knew he was wealthy. It was to be expected of Andrew after all his hard work. But a fortune? Perhaps Tony was exaggerating. He’d always idolised his brother, who’d cared for him unflinchingly since their parents’ death. Tony refused to cast any blame on Andrew; even when he knew how much his brother hurt Amy by his rejection of her adolescent overtures. He simply would not blame Andrew, and had merely lent his shoulder for her to cry on. And lean on him she did. They’d then drifted into their adult relationship, and chivalrous as always, it was just taken as fact by everyone that the pair of them would marry.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Even so, I’ll bet anything you won’t get him to play football. After his injuries healed he swore he would never go out on the field again.” Amy fiddled with her pen. “I’ll lay money he won’t stay in these parts. The high and mighty Andrew Bowen considers us all small-minded and insular here. He’d never return to our small town.”
Tony pulled a wry face. “Come on, Amy. You know that’s not true. Andrew’s always been behind the team.” He put a finger to his perfectly proportioned nose and leaned closer. “It has been suggested to me that a certain golden-haired beauty could easily put in a good word for us and with the smallest amount of gentle persuasion could convince Andrew to give it a go.”
Amy frowned. “Who do you mean? Flossy Cartwright? She’s the only blonde beauty I can think of who could twist all the men in town around her finger.”
He laughed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Sam, who had finished serving a customer, turn her attention onto him again. Serious he was handsome enough, but grinning he was devastating. “Come off it, you know full well who I mean, and it isn’t Floss.”
“I do?”
“You know I mean you, and you could do it. Go on, Amy, if not for me, the love of your life, do it for the team.”
“You’re joking, of course,” she scoffed.
“No, I’m not. With the smallest effort you could have him eating out of your dainty little hand.”
Amy chortled. At that moment her boss waddled out of his office, and Tony gave him a small wave. With a sigh, Mr. Mortimer suggested, “Instead of taking up the valuable time of my employees with your idle chatter, Tony Bowen, don’t you think you should be tending to your affairs? I suggest you return to the shop.”
“I was tending to the affairs of the town, actually,” Tony said amiably. “But you’re right. Time I was off. Think about it, Amy love.” He lifted a hand to his forehead in a mock salute. As he drew level with Amy’s boss, he said, “I was trying to convince your beautiful teller there to exercise her talents in the interests of our team to try and convince my brother to re-join the team. She, if nobody else, should be able to convince him that he is desperately needed.”
Mr. Mortimer nodded. “Ah, yes, I admit that with him coaching and you as our star player, our humble team could climb the league ladder if not reach magnificent heights next season.” He patted Tony companionably on the shoulder. “Perhaps with a bit of luck and good management we could return to the halcyon days when your dear father coached the team to victory. The community, and this modest establishment, has always been prepared to sponsor the team.” With a satisfied nod he returned to his office.
“See you about seven.” Tony waved his bank book before pocketing it. He whistled a tune as he strode out, and Amy smiled at the customer who approached her window.
Tony worked in the only clothing store in town. It never did a roaring trade and was especially quiet in the mornings. Stocking everything wearable from ladies’ undies and outerwear to school uniforms, Tony’s talents were wasted there, but the stark difference between him and Andrew was that Tony had no great ambitions. It occurred to Amy on more than one occasion that he was very predictable, and if she was utterly truthful, boring.
Amy propped her bicycle against the wall of the player’s changing shed beside the sports oval. Jessie barked a welcome to the several men already clad in T-shirts and shorts, who called out to Amy as they ran onto the green.
“Hi, guys!” The cat sat perched in the basket on the handlebars, and Amy patted its head, as she ordered, “Stay there, Goldie. I’m warning you, if you don’t behave yourself I won’t let you come to footy practice with me again, do you hear?” With a disdainful glance at her mistress the cat settled down and curled her tail up over her nose. The dog followed Amy to the fence around the oval. Amy pulled up the zip on her windcheater, and shivered. The evenings were starting to get chilly.
Her workmate also leaned on the fence further along, and when Amy called, “Hi, Sam,” she didn’t respond with as much enthusiasm. Sam was eighteen, and the group of friends she stood with were all around her age. Amy didn’t have many girlfriends, and to be truthful had none that were really close. Her growing years were spent with Tony, first as his playmate, then as his girlfriend, now as his future wife. They’d slipped into this state, she guessed, because it was expected of them.
The twenty or so men on the oval were kicking a ball back and forth amid shouts of encouragement from the small crowd of onlookers. Amy was acutely conscious of the tall, dark man who came to stand beside her. When he said quietly, “Good evening, Amethyst,” the sound of that voice sent sparks zinging to her nerve endings. “Bit cool, isn’t it?” He rubbed his palms together.
No one ever called her by her full name now. Well, no one but Andrew and her parents on rare occasions. The last time he used it had been one of those treasured moments frozen in time, just before her fifteenth birthday, on a magnificent day in spring. Amy and the two brothers were walking in the woods adjacent to the football oval. Even then Andrew was already powerfully built, and she was mesmerised by his charm. They’d always been active, and this day when Tony disappeared momentarily to retrieve a ball he’d kicked into some bushes. Andrew stopped, and for the first time seemed to notice Amy as something other than a child he grew up with. Threading his fingers through her hair, he made the breath catch in her throat as he said softly, “I wonder if your parents ever realised how apt your name is.”
Unable to do anything but stare mutely into his brown eyes, Amy slowly shook her head.
“Amethyst is a kind of quartz, did you know that?”
Still her voice lodged in her throat when he continued to let her hair drift through his fingers. At that time it fell in a straight thick, mass way past her shoulders.
“It sometimes has traces of gold in its crystals. Your hair is pure gold, Amy. Amethyst is purplish or bluish violet—exactly the colour of your eyes.”
Amy licked her lips, which were now as dry as her throat. His long lashes brushed his cheeks as he half closed his eyes to watch his fingers moving through her hair.
“Actually my dad named me,” she got out at last, feeling a blush heat her cheeks. “He bought Mum a quartz clock before I was born. They vowed to call each of their daughters after a precious gemstone.” Trying for a laugh she cursed inwardly when it came out as a soft nervous squeak. “Ruby and Pearl were to come next, but fortunately... or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, they were blessed with only me.”
Tony chose that moment to return, and the illusion was shattered. Soon after that Andrew suffered the awful crash on the football field, and so decided to leave town. Before he left to make his fortune in the city, Amy made her disastrous confession of love.
“Don’t be silly, you’re little more than a child,” was his scornful reaction to that. “What do you know of love?”
“Enough to know I’ll always love you,” she cried. Even now she cringed at her naiveté. “When I’m twenty you’ll only be twenty-eight. The eight years difference won’t matter then.”
She’d been inconsolable when he made the decision to leave town and head for the city.
Well, here she was at twenty-two, and everyone presumed she would marry Tony.
“I see your dress sense hasn’t altered,” Andrew remarked, flicking a finger on the front of her windcheater. She managed to feel like the schoolgirl she’d been then. “It’s still hard to tell if you’re male or female beneath all the layers you wrap yourself up in.”
Amy slapped his hand away. Only Andrew possessed the power to hurt her with a few playful words. “And I see you’re still as arrogant as ever. Why is it you think your opinion matters to me or anybody?” She was annoyed with herself for rising to the bait. Only Andrew ever made her feel self-conscious, casting slurs on her dress sense when she had agonisingly been trying to please him in every way. “It’s cold, as you said, and this is the warmest coat I possess.” Why she was wasting time making excuses she didn’t know. But Andrew brought out that side in her.
She ignored him—or tried to. After a few moments she couldn’t resist saying, “Tony tells me you’re considering hanging around these parts for a while.”
“I might be.” It was hard to tell by those few words if he was serious.
“I suppose you know they all think I could have influence on you. Somehow, some bright spark presumed that I have the power to persuade you to have a go at coaching the team.” Her attempt at sarcasm went awry.
Andrew’s snort told her little. “Perhaps you could try,” he suggested with a soft chuckle. “Now that would be interesting. What exact means of persuasion did you have in mind?” His drawl did strange things to her insides, so Amy bent to stroke Jess’s head to hide her confusion.
“I had none in mind.” She straightened and looked directly at him. Then wished she hadn’t, when he reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The small action made her tremble. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“I guessed that.” His hand dropped, and she turned away to stare at the footballers.
“I assured Tony I would have no influence on you whatsoever. I have no idea where they got the idea that I could sway the mighty Andrew Bowen to do something he didn’t want to do.”
“It might be interesting to see you try. Go on, talk me around.”
“Don’t be silly.” She was the one being silly. And she knew it.
After a few moments silence, he said, “I haven’t the slightest intention of taking up football again.”
“That I guessed.”
He shrugged, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. “The game owes me nothing. I gave the best years of my youth to this team, and what did I get for my efforts?” He let out a soft grunt. “One injured shoulder, and a reconstructed knee.” He flexed his leg.
Amy agreed with him. He would be a fool to take up the sport again that had almost shattered him. But she said nothing.
“No, thanks,” he said scornfully. “I’ll stick to the sidelines.” Right then the ball landed at his feet, and with a careless flick of the wrist Andrew tossed it back onto the oval. With a soft curse he grumbled, “It’s no wonder they’re near the bottom of the league. Bert’s useless.”
“Don’t blame Bert for their performance,” she retorted. “He’s been up against enormous odds lately. His wife has been very sick, yet he’s been trying to hold the team together while caring for her.” She stared at the players.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He sounded genuinely regretful for his outburst. Which he probably was. For all his faults he’d never been vindictive.
“What they need is a young man with vitality and energy to drive them on.”
“And I take it you think I’m this vital person with unlimited energy and drive?” He sounded amused.
“No way!” Amy tossed her head. “I wouldn’t waste my time trying to persuade you. But Tony thinks the sun shines out of those famous feet.” She gestured at his jogging shoes. “And half—probably three quarters—of Yewbank residents are convinced that inside your cold exterior sits the reincarnation of your great, late father.”
He looked at her in thoughtful silence, and then turned his attention to the activity taking place on the oval. While he did this she snatched glances at his profile. Suddenly, as if aware she was studying him surreptitiously, he turned his gaze full on her again. Amy jerked her head round in her agitation, just in time to see Goldie leap from the basket.
“Goldie,” she scolded, as the cat wandered toward them.
Andrew laughed, asking, “Does that peculiar animal catch many mice?”
“She’s not peculiar.” Amy sniffed. “And no, I suspect she wants a playmate when she stalks the mice. They don’t realise this of course and run—and she of course gives chase.”
“She’s unusual all right. Like her owner.” The cat chose that moment to hurl itself at Andrew’s legs, but he side-stepped with amazing grace. The practice match had finished by now and the players began to wander towards the changing shed, some taking playful punches at each other, while others shouted ribald remarks. Andrew bent to stroke Jess, saying, “Allow me to walk you home.”
“Jess is quite capable of walking by herself, thanks.” Amy picked the cat up and tickled its belly.
Andrew’s chuckle made Amy’s heart miss a beat. “You know what I meant.”
“Thank you, but we’re capable of seeing ourselves home.” Regardless of her refusal, he walked to her bicycle with her and watched as she placed the cat in the basket. “Tony always walks me home after practice anyway.”
Andrew looked over a shoulder. “Tony appears to be busy.” True, Tony was surrounded by a group of admiring youngsters. “I’m seeing Amy home,” Andrew called, and Tony waved, seemingly completely unconcerned that his brother had taken on the task usually reserved for him. That was Tony all over—worry-free and nonchalant. It aggravated her, but as Andrew fell into step beside her when she began to push her bike toward the path she always took, she had to admit she was pleased.
But when he asked casually, “Are you in love with Tony?” all pleasure faded.
“I beg your pardon?” She stopped, but in the darkness beneath the trees she couldn’t see his features.
“You heard. I asked if you’re in love with my brother.”
“That is absolutely none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is,” he argued. “I would hate to think that my baby brother was contemplating marriage with a woman who didn’t love him as deeply as he loves her.”
Amy faltered at this. Of course, he was simply worried about Tony’s feelings, and voicing his concern. “I’m marrying him, aren’t I?” She heard the uncertainty in her voice and walked ahead.
He easily caught up with her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Perhaps not. I’ll ask you a question you once asked of a naïve fifteen-year- old. What do you know of love?”
“Enough.”
“