Stranded With Ella Read online

  Normally, he’d talk with his brother. A fellow SAS soldier, Josh understood what it was like to be away from home. He understood the dirty tactics of war and the way it played on a man. But Josh was in Afghanistan along with every other soldier Dillon might talk with about life and everything else. Talking helped. He knew it because he’d listened to others and taken his turn with the discussions. Sharing with Josh had helped him decide he should take leave and get his head together.

  The microwave pinged, but he ignored the summons. Instead, he tossed his sat-phone from hand to hand and considered the thought that had popped into his brain.

  Nikolai.

  While he hadn’t liked the man at first and had ordered him away from Summer, things had changed. He’d grown to appreciate Nikolai Tarei and the way he was with Summer.

  Decision made, he dialed.

  “Yeah?” The gruff voice was thick with sleep. “Who is it?”

  Dillon swallowed, his tongue thick with unspoken words. He cleared his throat and tried to decide where to start. Hana. The beginning.

  “If this is a fuckin’ prank call, I’m gonna reach down the phone and throttle you.”

  “It’s Dillon. It’s early but I need to talk and there’s no one else.”

  “I’ll go in the other room.”

  Dillon closed his eyes then opened the microwave to halt the infernal beeping. Macaroni and cheese wasn’t appetizing anymore. He grabbed a beer instead and waited for Nikolai.

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a guest sleeping over,” Dillon said.

  “A woman?” Nikolai sounded surprised.

  “Ella.”

  “That was fast.”

  Dillon didn’t get defensive since Nikolai’s voice lacked judgment. “Hana. Our marriage was one of convenience so she could get out of Afghanistan. We were friends. Nothing more.”

  “Rumor said you stopped sleeping with other women once you married her.”

  Dillon huffed. His soldier mates gossiped worse than his mother and her cronies. “Once Hana and I married, it didn’t seem right. I hated the idea of people whispering about her, so I didn’t sleep around.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “She was a top woman,” Nikolai said. “Everyone admired her work and professionalism.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the problem? No one could fault you for seeking feminine company.”

  “I had a dream and thought she was the enemy. I hit her. Gave her a bloody lip.”

  “Shit. She all right?”

  “She says she is. Says she doesn’t blame me.”

  “But you feel guilty.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Nikolai hesitated. “Yeah, I’d worry about a repeat.”

  “A landslide blocked the road. I can’t get Ella out until at least tomorrow because the creek is still flooded.”

  “You’re sending her away? Summer would call that a cop-out.”

  Dillon grunted. “She’d be right. I’ve already lost one wife. I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s safety. The guilt is bad enough now.”

  “The home invasion wasn’t your fault. If you’d been there, the chances are you would’ve died too.”

  “My brain refuses to accept that, and now I’ve hurt Ella. Maybe I should leave and go elsewhere.”

  “You like this girl. I can tell.”

  “She makes me laugh.”

  “You?” Clear surprise sounded in his brother-in-law’s voice.

  “Fuck off. I smile.”

  “Rarely.” Nikolai fell silent for an instant. “You could talk to a professional.”

  “No, it would go on my record.”

  “You’re on leave. Find someone with a private practice.”

  “I’ll consider it. The talk with you has helped.”

  “Another idea. I could get Summer to research useful books to help you through grief or PTSD. That sort of thing.”

  “She’d tell Mum and Dad.”

  “Not if I tell her it’s for one of my trainees.”

  “You’d lie to your wife?”

  “You could talk to Summer and ask her yourself. Remind her about the episode with the condoms and how you didn’t rat her out to your parents.”

  Dillon sniggered, the memory of him and Josh walking in on Summer and Nikolai amusing him now. It hadn’t at the time.

  “Give me a few hours. I’ll call you back if I decide to ask Summer for help.”

  “Make sure it’s daylight when you call,” Nikolai ordered.

  “Sorry.”

  “Anytime, man. You could talk to your girl. Tell her what is going on in your head.”

  “It’s too early. I’ll make sure she gets back to her place tomorrow. Hell, today now. Give me a break.”

  “Some people might call that running away,” Nikolai said, laughter in his voice.

  “Fuck off. Talk to you later. Thanks, Nikolai.”

  Dillon hung up, lighter for having talked to his brother-in-law. It had helped him come to a decision. He’d give Ella space and take things from there.

  He didn’t bother going back to bed, but instead used the time to pay his bills and make a plan. Around eight, he looked in on Ella. She was still asleep. Dillon called his father to collect Ella and to ask about Hana’s car again. He fed Rufus and let him run free while he pottered around with the alpacas. When he checked Ella the next time, she was in the shower.

  Retreating again, Dillon made a pot of coffee and set the table. Ella arrived ten minutes later, and he winced on viewing her face.

  “It’s sore, but the pain is manageable,” she said before he could comment.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was an accident. It wasn’t as if you meant to hit me.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better. Cereal and toast okay for you this morning? We’ve run out of eggs.” He poured a glass of water and handed it to her along with two tablets.

  Ella swallowed the pills and took a seat at the kitchen table. “You didn’t come back to bed.”

  “No, I was worried I might have another nightmare and hit you.”

  “You might have,” she agreed. “But you can’t go through life worrying about things that might or might not happen. That’s not the way to live.”

  “I’m lucky I didn’t hurt you worse.” Dillon poured two mugs of coffee and added a smidge of milk to both. He set them on the table and returned to the counter to load bread into the toaster.

  “Doesn’t matter. End of discussion.” She picked up her coffee and winced as she took a sip.

  Remorse kicked him in the ribs at her clear discomfort. He’d put this right if he could, but there was no way to cure a bruised face.

  “What are we doing today?”

  “I’ve rung Dad, and he’s driving to meet us. The weather is fine and we should be able to walk along the edge of the road and the pile of debris.”

  “You’re getting rid of me?”

  “No,” Dillon snapped. “It’s best if we get you home. The food supply won’t last for much longer with two of us eating. On the plus side, we’ve made a dent in those casseroles.”

  Ella didn’t laugh. “It would be good to have my own clothes again. When are we going?”

  “We’ll leave after breakfast.” Well, that put him in his place. She hadn’t argued about staying. Probably counting the minutes until their parting.

  Unlike the rest of their meals, breakfast passed in silence, other than him asking if she wanted more coffee.

  Ella didn’t eat much and his ever-present guilt settled on his conscience. From the corner of his eye, he watched her try to eat a slice of toast and strawberry jam. Finally, she pushed her plate away.

  “Finished?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Ella stood. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

  “Leave them. I’ll do them later. I told Dad we’d be there around ten.”

  Ella nodded. “I’ll get my handbag.”

 
Dillon sighed as she disappeared. All their easy camaraderie had vanished, and he felt as if he was navigating a minefield. He plucked his keys off the hook in the kitchen. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready,” he called down the passage.

  “Be right there.”

  She emerged a few minutes later, carrying her handbag and a pile of clothes.

  “I’ll find a backpack for those. It will be easier when we walk out if you have the use of both hands.”

  The drive to the landslide took place in silence. Finally, Dillon switched on the radio, although the voices faded in and out and crackled, the hills blocking clear reception. He flipped it off.

  “The creek level has dropped overnight,” Ella said when she alighted from his vehicle.

  Dillon nodded, agreeing with her assessment. “I’ll carry your pack.”

  “I can do it.”

  “All right. Follow me and walk where I walk. I’m hoping the ground isn’t too unstable below the landslide area.” After shoving his sat-phone securely in his pocket, he picked up a slasher instead of a spade and forged a path below the remnants of the road. He slashed through long grass and blackberry, the exertion causing sweat to slide down his spine.

  Dillon paused. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” Mud splattered her sweatpants while the daylight highlighted her bruised jaw and swollen lip.

  That guilt slipped to the foreground again. His father would comment for sure. Dillon forged a track closer to the creek. The ground was muddy and waterlogged underfoot and he slowed, stepping with caution on the sodden ground.

  It was half an hour later before he got them back to the road. Both his parents were waiting.

  “We were starting to worry,” his mother said. “You’ve trimmed your beard. That’s a huge improvement. You no longer resemble a wild mountain man.”

  “I didn’t want to get too close to the landslide,” Dillon said, ignoring the beard comment. If it wasn’t for Ella, he’d still possess the out-of-control whiskers.

  Ella stepped from behind him, and he spotted the instant his parents noticed her face. He worked at the impassive thing, which was bloody hard when culpability hounded him.

  “Ella! Your face. You poor thing! Dillon said the landslide buried your car. How did you get out? Is that where you hurt your face?” His mother closed the distance between them and gave Ella a cautious hug. “You’ll be pleased to get back to your own bed and routine.”

  “Yes,” Ella said.

  Most women of Dillon’s acquaintance would’ve pointed the finger of blame at him and told the truth. Ella hadn’t lied, but she let his parents assume she’d suffered the injury days ago instead of informing them their son was the culprit.

  “I’d better get back,” Dillon said. “I want to check on the rest of my fence since I didn’t walk the entire boundary yesterday.”

  His mother frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay for food, Dillon?”

  “I’m right for a couple of days. By the weekend I’ll need milk and a few staples.”

  “You should come home with us,” she fretted.

  “Leave the boy alone,” his father said. “He’s an adult, and he needs to watch over his animals. He’ll let us know if he needs help.”

  “Thanks,” Dillon said. “I’ll call you. Ella, take care.” With a wave, Dillon set off on the return journey to his vehicle.

  The sound of his mother’s chatter faded, replaced by the tweet of birds and the rush of the dirty water in the creek. As he neared his vehicle, half a dozen tiny green riflemen flitted from a tree. In the distance, a kereru, New Zealand’s native wood pigeon cooed. The birds were plump and ungainly and made an audible whop-whop when they flew through the trees. Which reminded him of the helicopter landing at his neighbor’s place.

  He’d check his property boundaries and perhaps farther beyond to appease his curiosity. His neighbor struck him as a rough-and-ready sort, and not the type to own a helicopter. The weather hadn’t been right for spraying or a poison drop to combat the possum and rat problem. Yeah, his neighbor’s business was none of his, but a jaunt to check things out would give him purpose. Something to do instead of worrying about Ella and how much he missed the woman.

  How she’d wriggled under his skin in mere days, he was at a loss to explain. But she had, and he didn’t want to remember her now or how he’d struck her. He desperately needed to keep his mind busy.

  7 – The Mysterious Discovery

  Mrs. Williams chattered constantly, which suited Ella fine. Her jaw throbbed and all she wanted to do was return to her cottage and relax in her own space.

  “Would you like to come to dinner, dear?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m tired, and I have a project I was working on for my employer. I’m behind after getting trapped.”

  “Of course, dear. Another time. Do you like my son?”

  “Marlene.” Mr. Williams chided his wife. “Leave the poor girl alone. She’s exhausted and I bet her jaw hurts. You’re lucky you didn’t get a black eye to go with your fat lip.”

  “Steven!” Mrs. Williams protested. “You’ll have Ella conscious of her appearance.”

  “I saw myself in the mirror,” Ella said.

  Mrs. Williams peered at her in concern. “From what Dillon said it sounds as if you were lucky not to get buried with your car.”

  Ella shuddered because she had been lucky. “Yes. Dillon was great. He’s looking forward to returning to his work.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Williams said. “I was hoping I might persuade him to stay.”

  “Marlene, you promised not to pressure the boy.”

  Mrs. Williams sighed. “Why do my sons insist on the army? Why couldn’t they be farmers like their father and grandfather? Then I wouldn’t worry so much. I was hoping…” She glanced at her husband and trailed off. “I understand you’re going out with Michael, dear.”

  “We were meant to go to dinner, but that wasn’t possible with me trapped at Dillon’s house.”

  “A pity,” Mrs. Williams murmured.

  It wasn’t difficult to understand Mrs. Williams’s angle. She’d hoped Ella might entice Dillon to stay. Unlikely, even though they’d enjoyed their days together. Friends with benefits. That was it, although things had become strained after Dillon had hit her. It had been an accident. She understood that.

  Wrong time. Wrong place.

  A pity because she enjoyed Dillon’s company, but she’d move on and go out with Michael because she doubted Dillon would contact her now. He wore his regret and shame for striking her like a badge.

  No, she’d place Dillon in her memories box and continue with her life. At least she might sleep now. She’d delivered Hana’s message. Task completed. Job done.

  “Ella?” Mrs. Williams’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Dillon suggested we lend you Hana’s old car.”

  “Oh, that’s unnecessary. I often bike to work since it’s not far.”

  Mrs. Williams lifted her hand in a sign of dismissal. “Don’t be silly, dear. The car is sitting in the garage gathering dust. We’ll drop it off tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the doctor? You’re looking pale.”

  “I’m tired,” Ella murmured. “That’s all. It’s been a long few days, and I never sleep well if I’m not in my bed.”

  “I can’t believe Dillon made you sleep on the couch,” Mrs. Williams retorted. “I taught him better than that.”

  “It was dry and safe. That was all that mattered.” To Ella’s relief, Mr. Williams pulled up in her driveway. “Thank you so much for collecting me. It would’ve been a long walk otherwise.”

  Ella pulled her keys out of her handbag, which was stuffed in the backpack Dillon had lent her.

  “You’re welcome.” Mr. Williams’s gaze drifted over her face and he frowned. “I’ll leave the car keys on top of the
right front tire, although I doubt anyone will try to steal it. It’s not a pretty vehicle, but appearances are deceiving. It’s got guts.”

  Ella slipped from the rear seat. “Thanks again.” She waved as they drove off and released a slow breath. Dillon’s mother was a cupid at heart, although Ella hadn’t realized how determined she was to find her son a replacement spouse. She needed to back up a step. The poor man had only lost his wife six months ago.

  She glanced at her watch, surprised to find it wasn’t yet midday. It felt as if she’d been awake for hours. Her mind drifted to Dillon and regret filled her. She shrugged it off and padded the short passage to her bedroom.

  A delightful interlude.

  Yes, she’d call it that and move on with the rest of her life.

  * * * * *

  Dillon left Rufus at home rather than walking him on a lead. For this mission, he required stealth. It wouldn’t do for the neighbor to catch him skulking. A grunt of near humor escaped him. Must be more of his mother in him than he realized. This was the kind of thing she’d do when something piqued her curiosity.

  He grunted again as he left his house, a pair of binoculars around his neck. He’d bet a crisp one-hundred-dollar note his mother had interrogated Ella during the drive back to her place.

  Instead of heading straight for his boundary fence as he’d told himself he would, he took a roundabout route and watched the birds. Until Ella had mentioned it, he hadn’t pondered the huge variety of native birds in his section of the bush. All he knew was they made a racket in the early morning. Hana had bird books somewhere. She’d written to him about them, saying she’d made the purchase because she wanted to learn about her new country.

  God, she’d been happy and excited when he’d left the last time. Full of plans. She’d done many of the things on her list too, writing to tell him of the experiences and the new things she’d learned each week.

  A pair of tui, the black birds with the tuft of white feathers on their throat, squabbled over territory while another tui somewhere to his right ran through his repertoire of guttural clicks and squawks. The tui were born mimics.

  Overhead, a kaka, one of New Zealand’s native parrots, squawked. When Dillon glanced upward, he caught a flash of orangey-red underwing as it flew over. The rest of the bird was an olive green.