Home to Hope Mountain

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.