There was a silence as they both looked at each other. Her words echoed into the silence. He got to his feet and moved away from her bed as the red flush in his neck moved to his cheeks.
She was running on fumes, and now that she had run out, she sagged against her pillows and closed her eyes. She still ached all over. Again, she wanted to curl up and go to sleep. She bit down on her lip. Allowed the spasm to work itself through her body. She was just pleased that the number of spasms had reduced over the last few hours. She closed her eyes and winced.
Gray missed the wince in her face, as he was looking out of the window and he said quietly, "I will help." He turned around to face her.
She opened her eyes and Gray could see from her incredulous look that she thought he needed his head read. "You want to help me? Now?" She asked in a more moderate and sighed, hugging her midriff hoping it would contain the impending contraction. "Apparently," She grimaced, "I am a piece of work!" Winced again, as she battled the spasm. "Take advantage of people's poor situations!" Spasm over, she inhaled and sank into her mattress. "Remember that?" She sighed, and looked at him, "In any case, you have a job. A full time job."
He took a deep breath, and thought this was not the right time for this discussion. "I'm sorry Regan." He said softly and moved back to her bed.
"Great." She shrugged. "Fine."
"I did not know your circumstances when you shared your home with us. I didn't know about you working to generate my wage. I don't understand why didn't you tell me?" He stood at the bottom of her bed. She just closed her eyes and shrugged again. Pride, she thought. Or vanity or just plain embarrassment. And in any case, she was not well enough to argue. He glanced across at her, "Look, Regan, I will sort this." He moved.
She snorted and opened her eyes. "How?" She flicked him a derisive look. How would he help her? He had a job. A decent job. Had spread rumours, well, ok, facts. But no one would work for her, given that reputation.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Gray asked quietly. But he knew the answer to that question. No doubt, approaching an arrogant man, and telling him she had no money was unlikely in any situation. Not helped by the fact that this particular arrogant man painted her as a selfish miser.
"Tell you what?" Demanded, almost breathily, and caught sight of the movement in her peripheral vision as he came closer.
"That you were strapped for cash? Didn't tell me when I worked for you?"
She glared at him. "I guess you'd tell people if you were strapped for cash? Have you asked your new employer about his financial situation?" She challenged and for the first time during this encounter he saw real emotion in her eyes before she once again erected the barriers. He needed those barriers to come down.
"You could have told me you were working as a locum to cover my wage." And she could hear the concern that laced his voice.
"Oh, no mean when you called me a miser? Yes, I can imagine you would accept that. A selfish woman doing locums."
"You could have told me when I asked for money? Or explain why we couldn't have shearers? There were lots of times when you could have told me."
"Have you ask your employer? About where he gets your wages? Why he wants x, or y? Or not want x or y!" She huffed. "And, I'm not looking for charity. Now. Or then." She snapped. It was one thing wanting this man to like her, but she was not willing to settle for charity.
"I'm not offering any." Came the swift response. Then he repeated. "You could have told me." He still did not understand why she took on his family when she barely had enough to support herself. He felt guilty about the fact he forced her into further debt.
"What difference does it make? You wanted more money. I didn't have any. I still don't have any. I can't afford you. End of story."
He came and stood directly in front of her, beside her bed. And he sat on her bed, "I am not thinking of me." Taking her chin he tipped her face up, so that she looked straight into his eyes.
She gulped and said quietly, "I am really tired. I can't argue with you. And I can't waste my energy on something that I can't fix at the moment."
He released her chin, stunned because he was not expecting the spark. Lust and nervousness, mingled with astonishment, coursed through Gray. This was ridiculous. He knew he had spent weeks thinking about her. Thoughts that he found infuriating and they frustrated him. He couldn't forget her smile, her eyes or her gentleness. But it was the banked spark in her eyes that brought him to his knees. Cross. Passion. Furious. Or a mixture, he was not sure. Again, his eyes took inventory and he, again, silently berated himself, "I told you, I will help...."
She attempted to move away, but realised she had run out of energy. "You have a job, a full-time..."
"Yes, but I can arrange for someone to come here." He watched her reaction, covertly.
She blinked. "To come here..."
"Yes. The herd was milked today. It will need a few days to find a milker for your herd. In the meantime I will ask Granddad to come here and do the evening milking and I can do the morning milking. Or something. We will arrange it."
Regan watched in open-mouthed shock. Why would he do that? A few months ago, he left here because she could not pay, and here he was, volunteering. Handouts.
He continued seeing her eyes flashing with fury and dejection, "And before you start labelling this as charity, this is just a temporary measure. Dr McMahon said he signed you off for the week, which means your job as a doctor but also as a farmer! I noticed the antibiotics was for 5 days, so stay in bed, give yourself time to recover, and I will find someone to help you on the farm."
He saw her think about it. "Come on Regan." She was obstinate, that much was demonstrated, but he needed her to recognize she need time off. "I am not averse to throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to my home, and Granddad would support my behavior!" She narrowed her eyes, but his tone was gentle, as he added, "My plan could work. It's as simple as that. We sort out something for this week, you stay in bed and recover, and in the meantime we find someone to help you, permanently albeit part-time. Perhaps someone who has recently stopped working at a farm and just wants a few hours. When you are better, you can do the evening or morning milking, and your part-timer could handle the rest.
She held his gaze. His stare never wavered. She poked her tongue at her cheek and considered his plan.
She flicked him an anxious look "I can't pay a manager's wage." She quirked him a measured look.
"I know."
"And just part time." She flicked him a searching look. She wanted him to be upfront with any potential worker.
"Yes." He checked his smile. Progress.
Feigning nonchalance she asked, as she hoped he was right, "And you think you can find someone who would do that?"
He smiled knowingly. "Yes. I think so."
She raised her eyebrows and she flicked him a look.
He watched a heap of emotions flash through her easily readable eyes. There was disbelief, skepticism, caution, evaluation, and finally amazement.
She shrugged nervously, and flashed him a quick uncertain questioning look "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
She looked him straight in the eye, saying with feigned equanimity, "You have to tell them, I can't pay top dollars. I would have to agree to something that I could pay. Not to add more to my current debt." Her eyes conveyed immediate apprehension.
"When we find someone, we can discuss his wages with him. Depending on the number of hours he or she has available and what you can afford? Ok?"
She nodded and released her control and she slumped. Respite mingled with happiness. At least there was a plan. It felt good. Now, to focus on her health.
He muttered quietly, when he registered she was out of fuel.
"Sleep?" He asked, watching her reactions. She nodded. Then he reached for the duvet once again drawing it up to her shoulders. She sighed.
"Thanks."
She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. But she was not expecting the gentle caress. Just a butterfly caress on her cheek. Either the back of his fingers had just caressed her cheek or it was a ghost in the room. Must be a dream, she thought. Just before he kissed her temple. It was a light, fleeting kiss, like the caress on her cheek, just a butterfly touch. Must be a dream, she thought.
Gray waited, wondered if she would take offence. His kiss was impulsive. He was doing it before he had even thought about the potential consequences. It was a light, fleeting kiss, on her temple, but it stunned him. A meek, unassuming, peck on her temple. His lips had barely touched her skin, his lips only rested on her skin for a fraction of a microsecond, but the shock was enough to unnerve him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the mist in his head while his pulse continued to race.