Harden My Hart by Clare Connelly

Author:Clare Connelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-06-10T18:24:14+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The sixth to last morning

‘SO, SUNDOWN CREEK?’

I pause, midway through lifting a corner of waffle to my mouth, shooting him a look that’s part exasperated, part impressed—that he remembered, that he’s interested. I can’t really work out why the latter is true, but an hour after we came in from the balcony he’s brought the conversation back to the question of where I used to live.

‘Uh-huh.’ I resume the waffle’s trajectory, biting it and watching him as I chew, inwardly amused by his obvious discontent. Holden Hart is not a man who likes to be made to wait.

I wonder if that’s because he’s who he is—as in, a guy who was raised with a silver spoon, knowing his billionaire fate awaited him, and so from a very young age he’s been worshipped and adored, with an army of servants to undertake all his bidding.

Or is it just him? There’s a latent authority that moves within him. I felt in from the moment he stepped onto the jet and, unobserved, I watched him. I feel it now.

‘What was it like?’

That’s an easier question. General, non-specific. ‘It was quiet.’ I lean back in the chair a little, thinking of my hometown. ‘It’s a small place, well off the beaten track. Miles in from the coastline, just a small creek to irrigate the crops, and the creek dries up completely through winter—we get our storms in summer. I was bored a lot, as a child.’ I look towards my camera backpack, on the edge of the sofa. ‘I think that’s why I got into photography.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I found an old camera of my grandma’s and started playing around. Grandpa had a darkroom, and taught me how to develop the films.’ My smile is laced with nostalgia. ‘I hate to think what kind of chemicals I inhaled as an incautious seven-year-old. And what it must have cost them to sustain my hobby.’

‘You were passionate about it.’

‘Yes, but a lot of the photos were terrible—’ I laugh ‘—I had a lot to learn.’

‘So this is your hobby still?’

‘It’s more than a hobby. It’s a...’ I search for the right word. My eyes fall to him and it’s easy to remember. ‘A compulsion.’

‘Why?’

I consider that a moment. ‘A photo is a snapshot of time. But it’s so much more. In a photo you can capture an extra layer of reality, things you can’t fathom or don’t recognise in the moment are there to be understood later. Lines around eyes, hopes, dreams, wants, needs.’

‘So you prefer portraits to landscape?’

My smile is whimsical. ‘I think landscapes can have secrets of their own too. I like juxtaposition and contrast.’ I stand up, moving to grab the camera, flicking up the photos I took the day before. ‘See what I mean? The sharp tips of the Opera House, the gentle lifts of the tiny waves in the harbour? The shadows here and the sunlight there? Contrast makes us care; it intrigues us.’

He studies the photo. ‘This child with her ice cream cone and eyes so full of hope and the old lady on the bench, enjoying the sunshine.

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