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Eight
     
    When he heard the gate rattle Marcus poked his head out of the trailer door.
    “It’s not locked,” he called.
    Startled by his voice, Jodie looked up, teetered on the top bar, and then tumbled down onto the driveway.
    With a muttered exclamation he jumped down the steps and ran over to where she lay sprawled on the ground.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hand out to pull her up.
    Ignoring it, she stood up in one lithe movement and rescued her riding hat from where it had rolled across the path.
    Marcus found himself openly staring at her hair.  Until now it had always been tucked up out of sight, and despite wondering what color it was, he hadn’t given it much thought. If anyone had asked him he would have guessed dark brown to match the bitter chocolate of her eyes, but he would never have imagined this.  Black, and glossy as a raven’s wing, it hung in a thick plait that reached down to her waist, and he wanted to touch it.
    Hurriedly averting his eyes he forced himself to speak.  “Are you sure you haven’t hurt yourself?”
    “I’m fine. If you ride horses you get used to falling. I rolled. How was I meant to know the gate was unlocked though?”
    He pointed as he unlatched it so she could lead her horse through.  “No padlock, plus you could have called to let me know you were coming. I gave your sister my cell number.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “I was passing. Why the change of heart?”
    “It’s just a short term thing.  I decided it wasn’t doing a very good job keeping out unwanted visitors.”
    She looked slightly shamefaced. “I guess you mean Izzie and me.”
    He smiled down at her.  “No harm done. I’m sorry I was so scratchy last time you were here. Come on in and have a coffee and let’s see if we can start over.”
    “Maybe it would be better if I sat on the trailer steps,” she said with the trace of a wicked smile.
    He laughed.  “I’ll risk my reputation if you will.”
    She followed him into the trailer and sat on the couch. “Izzie isn’t usually so stupid.  I think she thought it would impress you if she turned up looking like her version of a celebrity. Oh I nearly forgot; you sweater is in Buckmaster’s saddlebag.  I’ll go fetch it.”
    She started to get up again.
    He caught her arm. “Give it to me later.  There’s no rush.”
    Then they both tried to pretend the physical contact meant nothing; that a spark of electricity hadn’t just travelled down his arm and into hers. After a long moment he moved away and busied himself with mugs and coffee. When he turned back to her she didn’t quite meet his eyes as she began to question him.
    “What did Izzie say to you?”
    “Mostly that she wants me to teach her stage craft.  She says she has a fantastic voice.”
    She gave a wry smile.  He could see she was deciding what to say to him. She sat forward once she’d made up her mind.
    “Did she tell you our mother died?”
    He nodded.
    “Did she tell you she was a singer too?”
    “No, she didn’t. She spent more time telling me why she needed to sing than filling me in on family stuff.”
    He could see the relief in her eyes when he told her that. It wasn’t strictly true of course, but true enough. He’d only gotten an outline from her sister, something about an accident and how Jodie had brought her up ever since.
    “She did tell me you’re her guardian though, and she said she’d be in trouble once you knew she’d been here.”
    Jodie gave a grim nod. “She got that right! The thing is, Izzie’s just like my mother.  She was very beautiful and very talented too, but she was impulsive as well, and…and it destroyed her.”
    “And you’re frightened the same thing will happen to your sister if she becomes a singer.”
    “Yes.”
    He waited.
    “It’s complicated.  Izzie was in a car with her when it crashed. She saw her die. By then it was just the two of them because Izzie’s father was dead and my mother’s new