Free The Most Magical Gift of All by Fiona Lowe Page B

gearstick into drive and pulled onto the road, heading to Armitage House.
    Jack will be gone, Jack will be gone.
    She realised with a start that she’d put those four words into a chant in time with the beat of the music. If willing him to be gone worked, then he’d be long gone by now, and he had to be gone. She needed the house to herself; after the hospital’s decoration frenzy she desperately needed a tinsel-free zone.
    She hadn’t heard from Jack but she hadn’t expected to because the situation with the child had nothing to do with her. He wanted so badly to be gone from Barragongthat she had every faith he’d have sorted things out and taken off again on his long-awaited trip.
    She relaxed into the drive and almost missed the turn-off. With a spray of gravel, she pulled hard left at the yellow-barrel post box and caught a flash of red and green, but she was going too fast to really see what it was. She glimpsed more flashes of red and green in the trees and slowed down, fascinated by the colourful birds with green backs and red, blue and yellow stripes on their chests. She’d have to look them up in one of the bird books in the homestead’s library. As she crossed the cattle grid, she held her breath, and then in a delicious rush of relief she let it go. The circular drive was empty. No car. No motorcycle.
    Thank you.
    She opened the front door and the coolness trapped by the thick stone walls welcomed her home. She dropped her bag and keys on the massive hall stand, and delight rushed through her. She’d have a lemon, lime and bitters out by the pool, enjoy a swim and then barbeque herself a steak. Life was good. Like an excited child, she started to dance down the very long hall.
    â€˜Put the angel on top.’ Imogen’s high, sweet voice drifted down the hall.
    â€˜The angel it is, sweetheart.’ Laughter clung to Jack’s baritone rumble.
    Sophie stopped so fast she almost teetered over her toes and her blood swooped to her feet. She swayed and grabbed at the doorway’s architrave.
    â€˜Sophie.’ Imogen ran over to her and grabbed her hand. ‘Look at what Jack and me did. There’s lights too.’ With her large brown eyes shining, the child tugged her towards the biggest faux fir Christmas tree Sophie had ever seen in a house.
    Her mouth dried as she took in the tree dripping with baubles and tinsel, and then it parched completely when her gaze focussed on Jack. He stood on the top of a ladder with a star in one hand and an angel in the other. Sunlight poured through the bay window, picking up the traces of silver tinsel and cobwebs that clung to his polo shirt and the streak of dirt that dusted his cheek. Gone was the über -uptight doctor who had appeared last night in Parachilna. Right now he looked like her rumpled, dark-haired god whose brooding good looks would instantly tarnish all the gold of the angels with a glance from those stunning eyes.
    Her lungs cramped.
    Imogen tugged at her hand. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
    Yes, he is.
    â€˜You can touch it if you’re careful,’ Imogen instructed.
    Leave the tree, alone, Sophie. Nobody touches the tree.
    â€˜No.’ The word shot out of her mouth harsh and loud, and Imogen’s face fell. Sophie bit her lip and tried to steady her ragged breathing.
    Jack put the angel on the very top of the tree and with calf-muscles flexing came quickly down the ladder. Without looking at Sophie, he bobbed down so he was at eye level with Imogen, his dimple twinkling in his cheek. ‘I think Sophie’s a bit surprised that we’ve done such a great job so quickly, but we’ll finish this tomorrow. How about you watch a Christmas DVD while I talk to Sophie?’
    Imogen stared longingly at the box with a picture of a train on it and hesitated, her bottom lip drooping slightly. She finally looked back at Jack, her expression half-resigned. ‘OK.’
    She picked up