Second Chance Love: Bindarra Creek, #3

By Susanne Bellamy

When Claire Swenson inherits her great-aunt's home and returns to Bindarra Creek as town librarian, Angus McGregor is the first person she meets. The second is his eleven-year old son.
Just because Angus wants a second chance doesn't mean that Claire will put aside her determination not to commit to a relationship - no matter how sexy he is, or how well they work together as they fight for the community and to save Angus' property.
Can he convince Claire that love is sweeter the second time around?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Bellamy
• Release date: May 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201035518

Susanne Bellamy

Born and raised in Toowoomba, Susanne is an Australian author of contemporary and rural romances set in Australia and exotic locations. She adores travel with her husband, both at home and overseas, and weaves stories around the settings and people she encounters. Her Outback series, Hearts of the Outback, and Second Chance Love, one of the Bindarra Creek series with other authors, were inspired by her time teaching in far north-west Queensland. Her heroes have to be pretty special to live up to her real life hero. He saved her life then married her. They live on the edge of the Range with their German Shepherd, Freya. In another life, Susanne was a senior English and Drama teacher with a passion for Shakespeare and creative writing, but now her two children have flown the coop, she writes full time. Susanne is a member of the RWA (Romance Writers of Australia) and won third place in their 2011 Emerald Award. She placed third in the Pan Macmillan short story competition with Chez Romeo. A hybrid author, she is published with Mira, and Harlequin Escape, as well as being self published. A popular guest speaker, she presented the keynote address at the Steele Rudd Pilgrimage, and was a guest speaker for the Dynamic Life Speakers Series for U3A, and has been invited to speak in libraries, at book clubs, and to community groups. To find out more, visit Susanne on her website.   You can also follow Susanne on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and Pinterest.   

Book preview

Chapter One

Claire Swenson unlocked the heavy oak door of the Bindarra Creek Town Library and pushed it wide open. Industrial dark grey carpet muffled her footsteps as she stepped inside and keyed in the security code. Dust motes rose around her shadow, elongated in the rectangle of early spring sunlight surrounding her. She breathed in the familiar smell of a roomful of books, bright with promise, and the tightness in her chest eased for the first time in months.

The library occupied the front half of the ground floor of what had once been a gracious dwelling. Halfway between Margaret’s house and the high school, it was Claire’s ‘home away from home’ as Aunt Margaret used to say. More of a mother than aunt, Margaret had also been Claire’s whole family while her parents travelled overseas for work.

And now there would be no more invitations from Great Aunt Margaret to visit, but her aunt’s generous bequest had brought her back to the small rural community. And to the library where her choice of career had become clear during her senior high school year. Like balm to her wounded spirit, she looked around the familiar space and relaxed.

Just a little.

Until Clarence Lansky’s letter had arrived, Claire had been living a half-life. The solicitor’s letter informed her that Margaret Richards had left her home to Claire, the only grandchild of Margaret’s sister. Mr Lansky had added a personal note of condolence and mentioned that Claire’s mentor, Esther Ainslie, had retired due to ill health and there was a vacancy for a qualified librarian. If Claire was interested in the position, even on a temporary basis, the Library Board was keen to have her start as soon as possible.

Claire had handed in her notice at the Sydney Public Library the next day. And here she was, back in Bindarra Creek. Given that she’d never see Great Aunt Margaret again, her return was bittersweet.

Memories of lazy summer days playing by the creek until dark and the smell of her great aunt’s wonderful patty cakes wafting on the breeze made the idea of accepting her inheritance bearable. Maybe she was idealising the past but her year with Margaret had been the happiest she had known.

Back then, the idea of replacing Esther Ainslie would have been unthinkable. Aside from days playing and reading beside the creek, the library had been Claire’s favourite haunt. Her gaze lingered on the fiction aisles, her escape when the loneliness of being the new student in school had overwhelmed her. Mrs. Ainslie had helped her find wonderful stories and she had read them by torchlight under the sheets. Not that she’d shared that titbit with Aunt Margaret.

But Mrs. Ainslie had retired, the library needed a new librarian, and Claire was determined to continue her mentor’s legacy. After all, it was thanks to the librarian that Claire had found her vocation in the first place.

She flicked the main light switch on and headed to the back room, Mrs. Ainslie’s sanctuary. A layer of dust covered a pile of papers on the antique desk and coated the computer monitor.

Surprised at the evidence of even mild neglect, she frowned. Esther Ainslie had always been fastidious.

‘Everything neat and complete, dear. Use a book and return it to its place.’

Claire dropped her bag beside the desk and flicked through the nearest pile of papers. A mixture of letters, accounts, receipts, and book requests waited to be sorted. Esther’s accident probably meant there was a backlog of such tasks to catch up on.

She picked up another pile. Random items were bundled together.

Suspicion grew that something was wrong, and Claire’s heart sank. It hurt to think that the woman whose memory had been the stuff of Bindarra Creek town legend might have become confused. While seventy wasn’t old, maybe Esther’s accident wasn’t responsible for the state of confusion in the office.

Claire turned on the computer out of habit before she realised she had no password or user name.

Forget the state of this office; my own state of mind is in need of a tidy up. She gave herself a mental shake. A visit to Esther was necessary before Claire opened the library to patrons. With a sigh, she picked up her bag and keys and headed back to the door.

Hello? Anybody there?

Damn, she’d left the front door open. She rounded the corner and came face to face with a boy of eleven or twelve years old. Hi, sorry but we’re closed and—

I’ve been waiting for Mrs. Ainslie to come back and then we saw the door was open.

His light blue eyes looked at her expectantly as he clutched a red envelope folder to his chest. Once before, she’d seen eyes of that colour when she’d lived with Aunt Margaret the year her parents were posted overseas. The year of . . .

A man’s hand descended on the boy’s shoulder in a protective manner. Good morning. Oliver here has been nagging me to bring him in so he can research his school assignment and Clarry Lansky mentioned our new librarian was arriving today—

I asked Dad to bring me in.

So, have we arrived before you’ve had a chance to find your way around? A kernel of something long buried stirred within Claire at the sound of his voice and a memory ghosted through her mind.

Her gaze lifted from the boy’s bright face and travelled up a red plaid work shirt pulled taut over solid chest muscles, up a column of suntanned neck, over his square jaw and firm lips, and stopped at a pair of light blue eyes—Chris Pine eyes—that left no doubt he was Oliver’s dad. Her tummy did a little tumble, or maybe a jig when those same eyes crinkled with his smile.

Angus McGregor. He doesn’t even recognise me.

She blinked as memory roared back in full, blistering Technicolour. The past fifteen years had been kind to Angus, sculpting his features into a maturity that attracted her even more than his handsome twenty-year-old face had. Years of working his property under the New South Wales sun had tanned his skin, and tipped the ends of his dark brown hair a lighter gold.

Bereft of words, she shook her head and summoned her professional persona. If Angus didn’t remember her, so much the better. No complications, no awkward moments with his son. She fixed a smile in place and focused on Angus’s son. I’m sorry but I’ve just arrived and haven’t even had a chance to logon to the computer system, let alone check the readiness of the library for customers.

Some of the brightness left Oliver’s face. But I need to look at old maps of our property for my project.

Is there any chance we could take a quick look without disturbing your work . . .Claire?

His voice was deeper but her name rolled off his tongue like a caress, and sent little shockwaves rippling through her as though they’d been together down by the creek only yesterday.

Clearing her throat, she raised her chin and looked into his eyes, surprised that he could affect her after all those years. How easy it would be to lose herself in his gaze again.

And how unwise.

Hello, Angus. Long time, no see. She turned back to the boy.

Angus’s son.

If she’d returned to Bindarra Creek instead of going to university, would Oliver have been the son she would have had with him? She squared her shoulders. One had to live with their choices, no matter how hard it was.

And you’re Oliver. She held out a hand to the boy who solemnly shook it. There was something familiar in Oliver’s earnest expression, more than the quizzical light blue eyes so like his father’s. With a start, she recognised the look.

Me, at the same age, begging Mrs. Ainslie to let me borrow an extra book for the long weekend.

I guess it would be all right. Do you know where the maps are kept?

Oliver’s smile was the only thanks she needed. Sure do. Thanks, Miss Swenson. He marched off to the map section with a certainty and confidence that reminded Claire even more of her younger self. She turned back to Angus.

Claire, I was sorry to hear about your loss. Margaret was a wonderful woman. Compassion filled his gaze, nearly undoing her rigid self-control.

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat when her aunt’s gentle face came to mind. Thank you. I’ve come back for a couple of months to sort things out and decide what I want to do. I guess you’ve heard she left me her house.

He folded his arms and leaned against the counter. "Yes. Small towns aren’t known for keeping secrets. Although most of it isn’t in the Bindarra Bugle."

Some things don’t change. Like how she felt looking at him as though all those years didn’t count.

Shivers fluttered down her spine as his gaze roamed her face.

I remember the first time I ever saw you. I fished a mermaid with braided hair, and mud from head to foot out of Bindarra Creek.

Of all the times she’d swung successfully on the rope attached to the tree branch, Angus had to slide down the bank the one time she’d mistimed her jump and landed in the mud pool instead of the creek. Heat flamed in her cheeks. Trust you to remember that.

Yep, I almost didn’t recognize you without the mud. Angus’s smile was like his son’s; it lit up the room and melted a little of the ice around her heart. I wondered if you’d remember me.

Remember him? Of course she remembered him. The year she’d spent in Bindarra Creek with Aunt Margaret when her parents were overseas had been filled with Angus. Year Twelve was difficult when you were the newcomer but he’d been her white knight, the standard against which she’d judged every other man since. Rescue from the mud, afternoon rendezvous, milkshakes and movies at the outdoor cinema, swimming . . .

Heat flashed through Claire at the memory of floating, plastered against the length of his body in the creek, their legs entwined while their mouths met in lazy summer kisses. But at the end of that year, parental pressure to maintain the family tradition and achieve her university degree had won out over staying in a small town.

Even for Angus.

Why hadn’t she returned when she graduated? Perhaps she’d been too young to resist the lure of travelling as her parents had, to want to be tied to one place. The world waited for her beyond the Great Dividing Range.

Angus’s voice cut through her memories. "I can’t thank you enough for letting Oliver look for his map. I thought access to the internet would be better but he wanted to see the original document."

Claire wrenched her attention back to the present. Sometimes it’s important to go to the source. If he doesn’t find the maps he needs here, the Armidale Lands Department may have them on microfiche. Why did her carefully controlled voice crack as she offered routine advice? Drawing an audible breath, she made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

Sympathy softened Angus’s expression and he touched her shoulder. Are you ready to return to work, Claire? It’s barely two weeks since your aunt passed away.

Loss smashed through her chest like a physical pain. Impossible to imagine her aunt would never welcome her home, arms wide and her favourite lilac perfume underscored by fresh baking from her kitchen wafting around Claire. Warm arms and unconditional love. That had been Margaret.

But there was nobody at home.

Pressing her fist against her stomach, Claire bit her lower lip. All she wanted was to crawl beneath her doona and cry. Perhaps if she’d allowed herself the luxury of tears, and not bottled up her grief, her pain might not be so profound.

But she was a big girl. She’d dealt with loss before. She could do it again. With a sniff she squared her shoulders and swallowed.

"You’re right. I’m not ready, but only because I haven’t checked in with Esther