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“You look completely done in.”
    She didn’t object but climbed into the car and, sighing listlessly, fastened her seat belt. Bay turned the key and managed to coax the engine into life at the second attempt.
    “They’re not saying much yet,” she said in answer to his earlier question. “Something about CAT scans.”
    “Probably just a precaution to make sure that blow on the head didn’t cause any permanent damage.”
    She expelled a tired breath, a cross between a whimper and a yawn. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
    They made the rest of the journey back to the farm in tense silence. Bay figured she needed time to work things through in her head, and so left her to it. When they reached the farm’s driveway, Bay found it slightly less jarring when negotiated in her old Jeep, but not much. This place really did need an urgent injection of cash.
    He pulled up outside the house and climbed from the car. The key to the kitchen door was on the same ring as those for the Jeep. He unlocked it and the dog hurtled himself at Athena. She smiled for the first time since leaving the hospital and fondled the animal’s ears. Bay was rocked by the most violent bout of jealousy—not so much because of what she did but by the degree of deep affection he read in her expression. Athena would look at him like that before he was much older, or he’d die in the attempt.
    “Do you need to do anything outside before I lock up?” he asked her.
    “No, this time of the year the stock stay out in the paddocks, so we’re okay. I’ll just let Rowan out, that’s all.”
    “What about food?”
    “I’m not really hungry, but there’s a casserole in the freezer if you are.”
    Bay wasn’t particularly but thought she ought to eat. He found the dish and put it in the microwave to defrost. He could do with a beer but already knew there was no booze on the premises. He ought to have stopped on the way back and picked something up. It might help Athena to relax and break down some of that famous British reserve.
    “Come on, babe,” he called from the kitchen. She was upstairs, straightening her room. “You gotta eat.”
    “What are you, my mother?”
    But she actually managed a brief smile when she came into the kitchen, and sat at the table obediently enough. As he served her a modest portion, she picked up her fork and took a small bite. And then another. Pretty soon she’d cleared her plate.
    “This is good,” he said, refilling her plate without asking her if she wanted more. “Did you make it?”
    “Yeah, I do most of the cooking, but it’s not my favourite pastime.”
    “Oh, and what is?”
    She flashed a wistful smile. “In a previous life, before I spent every waking hour mugging up on organic farming, convincing Gramps it was the only way to save Blackridge—”
    “It was your idea to go organic?” Bay hoisted a brow. “I didn’t know that.”
    “Now perhaps you understand why I feel so guilty about it all going wrong.”
    “Why? From what you say, the farm wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t changed direction, and organic farming is definitely in vogue.”
    “Yes, but even so.” She ate another mouthful. “It doesn’t seem right to be eating when Gramps is so ill.”
    “You won’t be any help to him if you don’t keep your strength up.”
    “I suppose not.” She sighed. “And to answer your previous question, I used to crave a career as a masseuse. I was good at it, took all the exams, and planned to go down that route. Then seven or eight years ago Gramps had a bout of flu that turned into pneumonia. I came home and kept things ticking over until he recovered.” She shrugged. “I never got round to leaving again.”
    “That was quite a sacrifice you made there.”
    “No, it wasn’t. Gramps is all the family I have. He would never admit it, but he needed me here.”
    “The two of you are obviously very close.”
    Her radiant smile probably had more to do with recollections of her