you’re asking…’
Jacob led the way back to the police vehicle, this time via the gate rather than have her scramble in an ungainly manner over the fence. ‘Jim talked about his daughter getting back in the saddle,’ he said as held the gate open for her. ‘I would imagine, given what she’s just gone through, that will be a huge challenge. Different horse, maybe a different saddle, but the same skills apply.’
Fran frowned as she went through the gate. Was he somehow referring to her situation? Surely Caro hadn’t told him? She had made her sister promise. No one was to know. Fran wanted to allow herself time to come to terms with what had happened without having to go over it again and again every time someone new met her. Anyway, Jacob had implied he’d only met Caro and Nick once or twice. Surely Caro wouldn’t have had time to engineer any of her matchmaking tricks. Or had she?
Fran narrowed her gaze as she sent a covert glance Jacob’s way, but his expression was shadowed by his police hat, making it impossible for her to read it.
‘How are your knees feeling?’ he asked once they were back in the police vehicle.
‘To borrow your own words, Sergeant Hawke, you did a good job.’
He gave her one of his fleeting smiles. ‘You really like to keep your professional distance, don’t you?’
Fran arched her brows at him. ‘You’re the one who keeps calling me Dr Nin when I’ve told you I don’t want to be called that.’
‘You don’t like your name?’ he asked. ‘I admit it’s a bit unusual. But it kind of suits you. Short and to the point.’
‘It’s actually French,’ Fran said, deciding to overlook his provocative comment in case it led to another showdown. ‘Apparently amongst the twigs of my family tree I am related to the writer Anais Nin.’
‘That’s quite a name drop,’ he said, darting a quick glance her way as he turned the vehicle towards town.
‘My mother used to read her stuff. She said it was highly sensual, or words to that effect.’
Fran examined his features during a small silence. ‘I really am very sorry about your mother,’ she said softly. ‘It must still seem unreal to you.’
He sent another quick, unreadable glance her way. ‘No, actually, it’s me who should be apologising,’ he said, his tone sounding gruff. ‘I got the phone call from the hospital the day we had that near collision. I was rushing to get back to the station to sign off some paperwork needed for a court case before I drove to Sydney to organise the funeral.’
Fran mentally cringed at how she had shouted at him onthe roadside and then stormed into the station, not for a moment realising what he had been going through. She had come across as a ranting virago, intent on lecturing him when he had just received the most devastating of news. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘Had she been ill for long?’
‘Yeah.’ He turned out of Valley Road into the one that led past the bay. ‘She was diagnosed a couple of years after my father was killed. It took eighteen years to kill her but she put up a very brave fight.’
‘You were close to her?’
This time his glance had a small rueful smile attached. ‘I wasn’t exactly a mummy’s boy or anything but I loved her and I will miss her. She was a good woman, brave and strong even though life had thrown her some rough stuff.’
Fran felt herself sink even further into the passenger seat. She felt like a complete coward, baulking at the first hurdle that had come along, instead of working her way through her fears to find her rightful place back in the world.
But the thought of going back…
‘I would have liked to have been with her when she died,’ Jacob added. ‘But without a doctor in town it wasn’t possible. She needed strong pain relief and a few weeks ago decided to go back to Sydney. I brought her down most weekends if I wasn’t on duty. She loved the beach. She used to sit for hours on the deck and watch the
Jacob led the way back to the police vehicle, this time via the gate rather than have her scramble in an ungainly manner over the fence. ‘Jim talked about his daughter getting back in the saddle,’ he said as held the gate open for her. ‘I would imagine, given what she’s just gone through, that will be a huge challenge. Different horse, maybe a different saddle, but the same skills apply.’
Fran frowned as she went through the gate. Was he somehow referring to her situation? Surely Caro hadn’t told him? She had made her sister promise. No one was to know. Fran wanted to allow herself time to come to terms with what had happened without having to go over it again and again every time someone new met her. Anyway, Jacob had implied he’d only met Caro and Nick once or twice. Surely Caro wouldn’t have had time to engineer any of her matchmaking tricks. Or had she?
Fran narrowed her gaze as she sent a covert glance Jacob’s way, but his expression was shadowed by his police hat, making it impossible for her to read it.
‘How are your knees feeling?’ he asked once they were back in the police vehicle.
‘To borrow your own words, Sergeant Hawke, you did a good job.’
He gave her one of his fleeting smiles. ‘You really like to keep your professional distance, don’t you?’
Fran arched her brows at him. ‘You’re the one who keeps calling me Dr Nin when I’ve told you I don’t want to be called that.’
‘You don’t like your name?’ he asked. ‘I admit it’s a bit unusual. But it kind of suits you. Short and to the point.’
‘It’s actually French,’ Fran said, deciding to overlook his provocative comment in case it led to another showdown. ‘Apparently amongst the twigs of my family tree I am related to the writer Anais Nin.’
‘That’s quite a name drop,’ he said, darting a quick glance her way as he turned the vehicle towards town.
‘My mother used to read her stuff. She said it was highly sensual, or words to that effect.’
Fran examined his features during a small silence. ‘I really am very sorry about your mother,’ she said softly. ‘It must still seem unreal to you.’
He sent another quick, unreadable glance her way. ‘No, actually, it’s me who should be apologising,’ he said, his tone sounding gruff. ‘I got the phone call from the hospital the day we had that near collision. I was rushing to get back to the station to sign off some paperwork needed for a court case before I drove to Sydney to organise the funeral.’
Fran mentally cringed at how she had shouted at him onthe roadside and then stormed into the station, not for a moment realising what he had been going through. She had come across as a ranting virago, intent on lecturing him when he had just received the most devastating of news. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘Had she been ill for long?’
‘Yeah.’ He turned out of Valley Road into the one that led past the bay. ‘She was diagnosed a couple of years after my father was killed. It took eighteen years to kill her but she put up a very brave fight.’
‘You were close to her?’
This time his glance had a small rueful smile attached. ‘I wasn’t exactly a mummy’s boy or anything but I loved her and I will miss her. She was a good woman, brave and strong even though life had thrown her some rough stuff.’
Fran felt herself sink even further into the passenger seat. She felt like a complete coward, baulking at the first hurdle that had come along, instead of working her way through her fears to find her rightful place back in the world.
But the thought of going back…
‘I would have liked to have been with her when she died,’ Jacob added. ‘But without a doctor in town it wasn’t possible. She needed strong pain relief and a few weeks ago decided to go back to Sydney. I brought her down most weekends if I wasn’t on duty. She loved the beach. She used to sit for hours on the deck and watch the
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