Chapter 4

Eloise shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the last stragglers left the lecture theatre. The heavy door shut with a clunk.

“Ah, just the person I needed to see.” Professor Armstrong slid her laptop into her leather bag and zipped it shut. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and several colourful brooches were pinned to her denim jacket.

“Is everything okay?” Eloise asked, eager to cut to the chase. If her major project needed revising, it would be better to know straight away. Bad news never got better with time.

“The person who was selected for the American Art Therapy Institute scholarship has decided not to go, and we’ve been asked to nominate another student. I want to put you forward.”

Wait. What?

“Are you serious?” Pictures of the AATI flashed through Eloise’s mind. Buildings in front of the pinky-orange Arizona sunsets. Children in art smocks, their hands painted a rainbow of colours. A group of teenagers standing on scaffolding around a sculpture shaped like a rooster that had been crossed with Medusa. Old men and women sitting behind potters’ wheels, hands covered in water and clay, bright smiles on their lined faces.

“You’d have to be there for the start of their next semester, which is September. I know that doesn’t leave a lot of time.”

How could she uproot her whole life and move overseas in less than three months? What about her family? Her job? And if Eloise was being honest, she’d only applied in the first place because she was sure she wouldn’t be selected. It was a way of letting herself off easily. Pretending she was still chasing after her dream of a big adventure.

She fumbled with the straps of her bag. “Um.”

“Take a few days to think it over. But if you’re interested, we need to apply for the exchange ASAP and get all the paperwork ready for your student visa. You’d be a great fit for the role, Eloise, and it would support your long-term goals beautifully.” Professor Armstrong smiled warmly and pulled open the lecture room door.

Back when Eloise had first applied, she’d figured out how much money she’d need to cover her rent and living expenses while she studied. It wasn’t a small figure. And then her car had died. Replacing it had hit her savings hard. Not to mention the extra things she’d bought for Charlie and Sera’s wedding. Her bridesmaid’s stuff was being paid for by the Fletchers, but she’d wanted a few new outfits so she didn’t look like a small-town girl who’d never even been on a plane because she was scared of flying.

This was all too much. She needed a hot bath and some quality time with one of her book boyfriends, but that would have to wait. She had a class to teach, and then she’d promised to help Mary with the bonbonnieres she was making for the wedding.

* * *

Two days later,Eloise was at work doing what she loved most: using art to start conversations and forge connections with the community. So far, Eloise had ‘helped’ Soleil Andrews with some fingerpainting while she chatted with the toddler’s mother, Billie. Billie and her husband Wyatt owned the Wattle Junction Hotel so she always had plenty of interesting stories to share.

Then, while rolling playdough—a brilliant tool for all ages, not just children—into different-sized balls and other shapes, two of Eloise’s favourite regulars had asked about the plans for KPs annual fruit harvest, admitting all the community home’s activities were the highlight of their weeks. A pang of worry had flared in her chest. If Eloise got the AATI scholarship, she wouldn’t be here for the harvest. And if she didn’t organise it, who would? And what about the Christmas carols or the New Year’s fireworks?

Pushing aside the unpleasant feeling in her belly, Eloise swished her brush across a blank page and crimson streaks dripped from its bristles, staining the paper in a hue she normally avoided. She dipped it into the water and swirled it around while she let her gaze wander around the art room.

Cube bookshelves lined one side, filled with storage boxes in every colour of the rainbow. In the opposite corner, tall drying racks were positioned next to each other, masterpieces from the week lying across their arms waiting to be collected or recycled. Easels were scattered around the enormous pine table in the middle of the room with paint-splattered stools tucked underneath it. The table was covered with tubs of crayons and pencils and little pots of paint. Next to the double doors were two big reams of paper. One at waist height and the other at knee height to ensure even the smallest artists were catered for. A few errant pipe cleaners had fallen to the floor, little neon worms against the polished concrete.

Until Eloise had finished her master’s, she couldn’t technically offer art therapy, but these classes were already making a difference. Not just for the attendees either. They gave her a chance to engage with more people than she could during her counselling sessions and reset amidst the never-ending prep for Charlie’s wedding. After making a third of the bonbonnieres the other night with Mary, Eloise had woken to a text message from Sybella saying she’d changed her mind about them. Again.

“That’s a lot of red,” Callum, a fourteen-year-old with shaggy blond hair who’d started coming to her art classes, said.

“It sure is.” Eloise swirled her brush in the water again. “What have you been working on?”

She expected the typical teenage shrug, which she got, but Eloise held her breath. Patience was one of the skills she was most proud of possessing.

“I was just mucking around.”

Eloise rolled her lips together. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly, Callum handed over the sketchbook he’d been using, and she flipped it open, holding it up to see better under the fluorescent lights. They hadn’t been her first choice, but their functional, common-sense design had won over something funky and arty. A beautiful blue-winged kookaburra was sketched on the centre of the page, its feathers fully extended, beak open. The bird’s laughter filled her mind so quickly she’d swear it was in the room with them. “This is really good.”

Callum shrugged again, avoiding her eyes. “It’s just a drawing.”

“Well, if you want to do another one or keep working on this, you can take the sketchpad with you. You guys just moved here, right?”

Callum’s hair bounced as he nodded.

“I’m guessing you like footy?” she asked, taking the hint from the Brisbane Lions shirt he was wearing.

“My dad’s obsessed with football. He played professionally when I was a baby.”

She didn’t miss that Callum had answered with what his dad liked instead of what he liked. “That’s pretty cool, but I was asking if you liked it?”

Callum shrugged. “I’ve always played.”

“Perhaps you’d like to come to one of our training sessions, then? They run right after this class—over at the oval. You’re always welcome.”

A blush stained Callum’s cheeks. “That’s what Dad thinks I’m doing now. If he knew I was at an art class, he’d say it was a waste of time.”

How many times had Eloise heard creative endeavours being dismissed as something frivolous or lesser than? It’s why the art classes at KPs were so important to her. If she was to leave at short notice and they had to stop …

The alarm signalling the last ten minutes of the session buzzed. Eloise had learnt the hard way about not warning people they were almost out of time. She silenced her phone.

“You’re not going to tell him, are you?” A hint of panic wrapped around Callum’s words, and he clutched the sketchbook to his chest.

“I won’t tell him, but we do have to finish up now.”

As everyone tidied up and new projects were slid onto the drying racks, the pang of worry returned. What was she thinking? She couldn’t leave with such little notice. Her work here was too important. There was no way she’d be able to hire and train someone fast enough. And what if they didn’t care about KPs like she did? Besides, she couldn’t afford to go. The timing was all wrong. The AATI simply wasn’t meant to be.

Her big adventure would have to wait.

* * *

The football hitthe post with a thump.

Another miss.

A voice behind Nate said, “Dude, you’re meant to be good at this. How are the kids going to believe you know what you’re talking about if you can’t even get a goal?”

If it had been anyone else, Nate might’ve bristled at the teasing. Instead, he threw a ball at Teddy’s head, laughing as his brother caught it and slotted the goal easily.

“I can give you some pointers if you like. I don’t like to brag, but I was the Under Twelves Best and Fairest.”

Nate picked up another ball from the pile at his feet, adjusting it until the laces were perfectly straight. This kick sailed through the middle posts. “Maybe I’m not totally washed up.”

The bright lights flicked on.

Nate chuckled. Bright lights. The small oval at the back of Kathleen’s Place was so far removed from the big stadiums he’d played in as an Arizona Mustang in the NFL that it was genuinely unfair to compare the two. It even paled in comparison to the college grounds when he’d been a Utah Mountain Elk, which his brothers had loved to tease him about. They’d stopped laughing when he landed the biggest signing bonus ever for an Australian player in the NFL and became an instant millionaire at twenty-two. It was still hard to believe the path his life had taken.

But he was here now, on this small patch of grass on the southern side of town, near the old cemetery and tiny Anglican church with its colourful stained windows and arched doorways teaching kids about how important it was to move their bodies.

Nate picked up another footy and started handballing with Teddy while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Before long, car doors were thumping closed, the sound carrying across the oval. Several kids were also walking over from the main homestead, led by Eloise. The gentle wind made her long hair dance around her. Mixed with the oval’s lights, it gave her an ethereal, magical appearance. A chill whispered across Nate’s body, and it had nothing to do with the fact he’d forgotten his beanie.

“Got your exam results back yet?” he asked Teddy, trying to distract himself.

“One more semester and I’ll be a graduate Doctor of Dental Surgery. Honours and everything.” Teddy bowed, snapping another shot at goal before he was even standing up properly.

Pride bloomed in Nate’s chest. “That’s brilliant news, Ted. You’ve made it look easy.”

Teddy’s lopsided grin was automatic. “I make everything look easy. Couldn’t have done it without your help, though. Knowing I don’t have a mountain of student debt is totally kickass.”

Nate shrugged, keeping his eyes forward. His family was so funny about money. It had taken Teddy ages to accept his offer to pay for his degree. Owen and Raff had never let him help them financially, and the only way he could convince his parents to let him pay off their mortgage was to say it could be an advance on whatever inheritance he might get eventually. Hopefully, the one that was many, many years away.

“My offer still stands for the orthodontist course once you’re ready to do it.” Nate kept his tone casual, even. Didn’t want to spook the six-foot-five guy who looked like a Viking by offering too effusively to do something nice for him. God forbid.

“I know, and I appreciate it, but I’ll see how I go. You should spend some of your money on yourself for once.”

“Eh, there’s nothing I need or want.”

Which was true. Nate had everything he needed. Charlie had redone the kitchen and bathrooms at his place and built his little studio, complete with a jetty out over the Wattle River. Running power and sewerage down to it had been criminally expensive, but it had been worth it.

The group edged closer, a few parents settling in the stands while others left, the headlights from their cars sweeping across the field as they reversed.

“Thanks so much for doing this for us,” Eloise said when she stopped in front of the brothers.

“I thought there were only a few kids,” Nate said.

A much larger crowd stood behind her. “Word got out that you guys were running it, and”—she shrugged—“here we are. I’ll stay and help. Although, I don’t know how useful I’ll be. Charlie’s the sporty one, not me.”

Not even the mention of her brother could stop Nate’s gaze from dipping to Eloise’s snug running tights, cropped puffer jacket and hand-knitted beanie. Her nose was a little red, eyes bright. She’d never looked better.

Teddy cleared his throat, dragging Nate from his daydream. He redirected his attention to the group in front of him.

“Hey, guys. My name’s Nate, and this is my brother Teddy. We’re going to run your sports class for the next few weeks. We thought we’d keep the first class nice and easy and play some games.”

Of course, they hadn’t expected forty-five children, ranging from what he guessed were five to fifteen, to rock up.

“Are you famous? My dad said you’re famous, but you should’ve played Aussie Rules because it’s way better than the FNL,” a little boy wearing a Western Bulldogs shirt called out.

Teddy lowered his voice so only Nate could hear him. “This is already the best part of my day.” Then—the git—leant forward like he was about to tell the kids a secret. “Some people think Nate’s famous because he played in the NFL not the FNL, but I don’t. He’s just my silly, smelly brother who’s scared of spiders! Look how big he is, but when he sees a spider …” Teddy jumped and hid behind Nate.

The younger kids giggled. Nate hoped Teddy did eventually become an orthodontist who specialised in working with children because they always loved him.

“But it’s okay. If I’m not here to protect him, Eloise will do it.”

The giggles intensified, and damn if it didn’t make his chest pull tight when Nate saw the sweet smile Eloise tried to hide by ducking her head. This was how it could be if things were different. Easy laughs—guaranteed to be at his expense if his brothers were around—and the pure contentment that came from just being near her.

But that wasn’t real life, so there was no point pretending.

Nate turned to Teddy and was about to suggest they split the kids into groups when a woman called out.

“Hey, Mustang.” Bianca sauntered onto the middle of the oval in the tiniest pair of workout shorts he’d ever seen. She was going to freeze her … nope, not going there. Nate purposely kept his eyes on her face.

“Who is that?” Teddy whispered. “I mean, other than potentially the future Mrs Teddy James?”

“Since when are you interested in getting married?” Nate asked Teddy.

“I’m not. Not any time soon at least. I’m having too much fun being young which is something that you surely remember quite fondly.” Teddy winked, a big smile on his face. “But with the right woman …”

“Sorry I’m late.” Bianca said.

“For?” Nate raised his eyebrows.

Her hair was tied back, glossy stuff smeared across her lips, her white Lycra outfit highlighting her assets. If Teddy didn’t shut his mouth, he was going to trip over his tongue. So was the blond teenager with unruly curls near the back of the group.

“Charlie said this was an open training session. I’d love to get some local colour for my article, you know, to highlight how special this place really is. Besides, you gotta keep grinding, even on vacation. You like to grind, don’t you, Nate?”

“Have I mentioned how happy I am to be here?” Teddy snickered while Eloise’s mouth flattened into a straight line, and she moved closer to Nate.

“This session is for children,” she hissed.

Bianca didn’t miss a beat. “I love kids; besides, it looks like you could use the help.”

It sounded an awful lot like Teddy had just muttered that he might need help with some stretches. Nate spun around and sent his brother a warning look. Bianca was relentless, but he wouldn’t tolerate talk like that and, also, there were kids present. But what could he do? Send her away and cause a scene? “You can do some catching drills after the warm-up.”

“Oh, I’m warm already. And getting drilled is my favourite.”

Christ. Could she hear herself? Everything that came out of her mouth was a double entendre.

She sashayed over to Teddy, ignoring Eloise.

“Great.” Nate grimaced. “We’ll start by splitting everyone into groups and then we’ll take turns doing some different games. If we have time at the end, we can practise some shots on goal, too.”

“I love shots!” Bianca purred because, of course, she fucking did.