Unexpected Delivery

  Unexpected Delivery

  Leanne Lovegrove

  Copyright © 2018 Leanne Lovegrove

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  DEDICATION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DEDICATION

  For Justin, always

  Chapter One

  Vivienne Greene inhaled the fresh country air.

  At first hint, she smelled green apples, crisp and delicious. On second intake, a powerful waft of manure hit her nostrils.

  She grimaced and looked around.

  It was quiet, until the lorikeets in the trees overhead woke up and squawked as they flew across the morning sky. The bird calls joined in with the unmistakeable bellowing of cows, becoming an animal symphony.

  She was in the right place.

  Vivienne stood amongst rolling verdant hills in a beautiful sweep of a valley. Goose bumps erupted on her arms as a cool breeze blew in over the hills.

  The setting was perfect but she had a bastard of a job to do.

  She pushed open the rickety wrought iron gate attached to a faded picket fence. A sweet country cottage sat before her with a corrugated bull-nosed roof and long, open verandas bordered by lush green grass.

  She paused, mesmerised by the tranquillity of the beautiful family home.

  On closer approach though, she observed that the paint had peeled and curled at its edges, the stairs were close to rotten and toys were scattered around the yard. The house yelled neglect.

  A little spit and polish, as her mother would have said, and gentle, tender care and this house would shine again.

  Surely the owner would understand he needed to meet his obligations and pay the money he owed? Her gut churned at the task ahead. Vivienne knocked on the solid cedar door with the delicate stained glass trim.

  Waiting, she spied a wonky sign that read Bunyatree Dairy. The green paint of the words was faded and dull.

  No answer.

  Didn’t farmers work at home? She placed her ear to the door.

  Nothing.

  A voice echoed to her right from a rundown shed across the yard. Vivienne listened as a male voice yelled profanities.

  Had the owner seen her?

  A frisson of nerves passed through her. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy but hadn’t fully contemplated the scene that might unfold. She’d keep to the facts, do her job and be on her way. Under her breath, she cursed the bank for sending her here to deliver the bad news.

  Feeling uncertain, but with no other option she moved away from the door, her pulse racing. Removing the envelope from her oversized tote, Vivienne gripped it in her hand, ready for speedy delivery. She walked at a brisk pace across the timber decking, not taking any notice of the gaps in the boards, keen to have this task complete. She winced as her right ankle twisted. Attempting to lift her limb failed. The timber decking had her Jimmy Choo-clad foot caught firmly in its grasp.

  Extracting her foot from the shoe, Vivienne bent to wrestle with it. At two hundred dollars a pair, she didn’t want to lose the shoe to the wilds of the country. With gentle fingers, she prised it free. And with a hop and a skip she shoved it back onto her foot, balancing her bag in one hand and the envelope in the other.

  As she reached the edge of the veranda, Vivienne sucked in her breath.

  So beautiful.

  A tall majestic tree lined the far corner of the property. A rope swing hung from its branches whilst two red dogs zigzagged around the paddock out front, barking like crazy. Vivienne smoothed her hand over her long red locks as if she had been swinging in that tree. Ignoring the dogs, she moved down off the porch, refusing to be distracted and keen to get on with the job. If she didn’t, the tension building within her might take over. The stuck shoe had rattled her.

  As she stepped onto the lawn her heels sank into the dewy softness of the grass. Walking became like a mission across the surface of the moon as she took large exaggerated steps toward the rusted shed. This job had turned out to be harder than expected and she hadn’t even met the owner yet. A large bang came from the decrepit barn and she took a step backward.

  “C’mon old girl, you can do this.”

  What was she about to walk into?

  As she stood outside the tin shed and listened to the moos, and the loud wacks of hooves against metal, she guessed it had to be a cow in that building. An unhappy cow, even she could work that out.

  As Vivienne moved closer, a bucket flew out the rear. It spiralled down the slight slope to stop against a rock a few hundred metres below.

  “Damn it. Stop moving, Dora!” the voice pleaded.

  Chains rattled and Vivienne peeked around the wall, right into the face of the cow. If cows could glare, it glared at her, its nostrils distended. It opened its mouth to burst forth a Chewbacca sound like nothing she’d ever heard before.

  “Argh!” Vivienne screamed and stumbled backwards as the cow lunged at her. Her heart thumped as she prepared to be trampled.

  The envelope fluttered to the ground.

  Clutching her hand to her racing heart, she relaxed as the cow held fast, restrained by the rope tethering it to the stall.

  “Bloody hell!” she said.

  A head came into view from around the rear of the giant animal. Dark luscious hair tempted her to sweep it away from the eyes it covered. In a swift movement, obviously done many times before, the owner shook his head and peered through the wild mop.

  Jon Snow was alive.

  The hair belonged to a man with dark features. His eyes were as black as night. A smattering of facial hair covered his upper lip and chin.

  Vivienne’s breath hitched as her hands itched to reach out and touch the curly tips and rake her fingers through the salt and pepper roots. His hair touched broad and solid shoulders.

  Wrinkles lined his dark eyes and joined a creased forehead and chiselled jaw. Vivienne searched his face but his eyes had found hers. Their eyes locked and she became transfixed with the stranger.

  “Great,” he said.

  The frown wrinkling his brow and the stiff hold of his head and lack of smile registered.

  Was he pleased to see her? His words contradicted his expression.

  “Get down here. I need you to grab this other chain and help me pull.”

  Vivienne stood and wiped her green-stained hands down her skirt and digested the words. The cow standing between them continued to grunt and shift from hoof to hoof, unsettled. Vivienne kept her distance.

  The man rose. He towered above the cow and dwarfed the small stool he’d been sitting on. With pent-up aggression, he kicked it away and then patted the cow’s rump. His hands moved down its large back toward its head where he stopped to face the cow.

  “Hush now, Dora. It will be okay. Hold steady, girl.”

  Vivienne’s head swooned and her legs wobbled as the words soothed her, too.

  “Here, grab this.” The man pushed cold metal chains toward her. She startled at his abrupt change of tone and moved closer to fa
ce him inside the shed walls. She didn’t grasp the chains.

  “Can you please wake up and help me. This cow is in labour and her calf is too large for her to deliver alone.”

  “Whoa, what?” she muttered as his words sank in.

  The man gestured toward the chain. “Just do as I say.”

  “Um, okay. Yes, okay, I’ve got it. Tell me what to do,” she said as the links landed in her hands.

  As if she had a choice.

  Her sweaty palms caused the chain to slip through her fingers and fall to the ground. It was heavy in her small hands. As she reached for the metal and held it tight, the cow moved. The pressure of its large frame pinned her against the shed wall.

  Vivienne screamed and stood still. The cow’s rough hair bristled her arm. It kept moving until it settled into a comfortable laying position. Safe, she released a sigh of relief.

  “Can you please be calm? You’ll make the cow more anxious than she already is,” he said in an aggravated tone.

  The farmer petted Dora’s long nose whilst she nuzzled in closer to him. Vivienne imagined his strong and capable hands caressing her own skin. She couldn’t wallow in that beautiful image for long as a thunderous roar erupted from the animal. Vivienne bounced backwards into the iron sheets of the shed again. After this she would look like a patchwork quilt of bruises and bumps.

  At the cow’s distress the man jumped up and move to its rear. The chains she held had their destination in the cow’s backside. Jostled into position—by the man she presumed to be the farmer—she faced two hooves and a shiny black ridge of a nose sticking out of the cow. Excrement stuck to the lower portion of its back, sticky yellow goo hung from the hooves and dripped down the mother. Vivienne scrunched up her nose.

  “When I tell you, you need to pull as hard as you can. Okay?” The farmer waited for her reassurance.

  She nodded and tightened her grip with both hands on the chain.

  He held the other section. “We need to wait for her next contraction, then we pull.”

  As if waking up from a nightmare, Vivienne realised what she was about to do. Panic spread through her like a raging fire. “Um, hang on, what? I’m going to pull this cow out? Oh, no, no, I can’t do that. I don’t know anything about giving birth. I’ll go and fetch someone who can help.” She moved to stand up. Before she could shift, a large, rough hand gripped her forearm. Usually she’d be repulsed by the dirty fingernails and the sandpaper rough skin, but instead, warmth radiated into her from his touch. His hand held firm and her cool skin tingled. Her heart rate slowed and his grip made it impossible to move.

  Transfixed she held his gaze.

  “There isn’t time. I need your help now. I can do this, I’ve delivered calves before, and this one just needs a little help.” His hand remained on her, his eyes holding hers until she gave a small nod.

  “Okay, here goes,” he said. “On the count of three, pull.” Seconds passed, then, “Three, two, one, pull!” His face strained; he shut his eyes in concentration and held his jaw tight. Vivienne watched in awe as the sinew in his arms stood out. Too busy watching him, she realised moments later she was meant to be pulling. Heaving together twice and three times, the feet didn’t shift an inch. With the skin on her hands raw, Vivienne paused and caught her breath.

  The man landed with a thump beside her. He sat close enough that she caught a scent of coffee, not stale but sweet.

  “You need to move. You’ll need to sit on your backside and plant your feet to get more traction. I’ll have to sit behind you and I’ll grab both chains to get as much strength behind it as we can.”

  “Aren’t we going to harm her? If it’s an oversized baby then pulling that, that thing, so big, out of her is going to hurt, right?”

  “If we pull on contractions and at the right angle, it is no different to delivering naturally except less exertion because we are doing the pulling whilst she’s pushing.”

  A weight descended upon Vivienne’s shoulders. What if she jerked this chain the wrong way? What if the other hoof got caught in the birth canal and it scraped like nails on a chalkboard?

  Her fear grew. This was different to the high-stake pressure negotiations at the bank, and much dirtier.

  With no time to contemplate the crazy scenario she had found herself in, the man’s legs straddled her from behind, circling her, forcing her weight downward until she sat on the uneven, frosty ground. The chill penetrated her thin, pencil skirt. Streaks of mud laced her pearl shoes. She wished she could kick those darn shoes off to give her better chance of pulling her hardest. As it was, Vivienne dug them deep into the ground until the hay and mud concealed them. She tried to ignore the claustrophobia of being trapped close to the body of someone she didn’t know; even if it was a superbly delicious fit. Now, engulfed by his brawn, his arms sat atop hers, chains in both of their hands. There was no escape. To calm herself Vivienne concentrated on the calf.

  Motivated by the prospect of losing it, she pushed back into the man behind her. For minutes they dragged, arms heavy, aching, and muscles stretched. Then the tension broke and within seconds the calf covered in muck, slithered out, motionless, landing with an indignant plop. The cow groaned but stayed seated, while the calf lay still.

  The man jumped up and dropped her arms as if they burned. The fast movement caught her unawares. Stuck in position and cramped for her trouble, Vivienne fell backwards, her support gone. She hated to think of how she looked. Her hands were held aloft with chains still in her palms, dressed in her baby blue skirt suit and matching jacket and sprawled sideways on a tuft of grass in an old farm shed.

  Not a great first impression.

  Vivienne released the chains in a heap. Her hands and arms ached so she rested them behind her, right into a cowpat. The ground dipped as her head spun and the slimy warm sensation on her fingers and the powerful stench rolled her stomach until bile hit her throat in a burning rush. She leapt up and scanned her surrounds. The barn resembled a warzone. The cow had blood and black liquid smeared over its rear mixed with mud, dry hay and grass. But neither the cow nor the calf noticed.

  “Holy shit, Daniel!” A second man rushed in and stood beside the farmer. They watched as the mother licked away the goo from her baby’s eyes as it tentatively stood on wobbly legs.

  “Well done, mate, I can’t believe I missed it. You’re amazing!”

  Vivienne slipped out of the shed, watching where she stepped. She yanked off her ruined and disgusting shoes. She couldn’t wait to rip off her clothes and throw them in the bin, but first, she needed to wash her hands.

  She found a tap and outdoor hose nearer the house and rinsed without looking at the sludge draining away. Once her hands were clean and without looking back, she headed for her car parked along the drive. Vivienne forgot about the envelope flapping in the green pasture outside the shed; the purpose of her visit was a distant memory.

  ***

  In a rare moment of silence, Daniel Beckett sat with his knees to his chest, watching the new calf as it walked beside its mother. A good day at the office, as they’d say. The delivery had been a success. He never tired of the circle of life, the revitalisation and growth of his farm. In all his time at the dairy, he’d only had to deliver a handful of calves. Most were born of usual size and weight and the mother could take care of matters naturally. He supposed this cow had given birth younger than the rest of the herd. She hadn’t grown large enough to birth her baby, her pelvis still too small. Another issue for him to think about, did he need to segregate the cows for longer?

  He’d worry about that another day.

  Daniel stretched his arms above his head, releasing all the tension in his aching muscles. That hard yank had hurt, but had been necessary.

  He sat bolt upright and dropped his knees.

  Hang on. He hadn’t done it alone.

  In all the excitement and tension, he had forgotten. He looked around, searching for evidence of the woman’s presence.

  Wh
o was she?

  Why had she been here and how was it that she’d helped deliver his calf? He double-checked around as if she hid behind a rock. Bloody lucky she’d been present, though. He’d needed just that little extra ounce of oomph and they’d been right. He owed her one.

  It wouldn’t be easy to forget her with that mane of red hair, swinging freely like it would get caught in everything in its way. It had shone in the morning sun now that he thought about it.

  Touching his thigh, he remembered clutching her with his leg strength and being curved to her body and moulded to her contours. The heat crept back into his leg and groin; he hadn’t been that close to a woman for a while.

  Probably wouldn’t be again, either.

  Her arm had been icy cold to the touch when he’d gripped her. His body had fit perfectly into hers as they sat huddled together. As quickly as those sensations caressed him, the guilt and shame rose and overcame him in record time and he shook the image of the green-eyed raven from his mind.

  Whoever she was, he’d thank her, but that would be it.

  Daniel rose. He had other matters to occupy his mind, and first was finding his two rascals and sorting out dinner. The last streak of sunlight crossed over his face as he headed toward the homestead. The shadow overtook him as he turned to check one last time on the calf and to wish it good fortitude on its first night in the big wide world.

  A rustle underfoot broke the spell and the sun dipped behind the rolling hills making it difficult to see. Daniel reached down to extricate paper rubbish from under his boot. This place was a bloody mess. He’d add tidying up to his list–for tomorrow. Walking into the warmth and welcome smell of his kitchen, he placed the dirty envelope on the dining table.

  He’d toss it away later.

  Chapter Two

  Vivienne woke to brightness as the sun streamed into the bedroom. She squinted but rolled towards the brilliant light only to stop short as a shooting pain travelled up her arm.

  “Argh,” she moaned and rolled back, taking the pressure off her limb. Events of yesterday came rushing back to her. She opened her eyes to examine her throbbing body but all appeared to be normal. Not a bruise or scratch to be seen.