Working with a hundred-and-fifty kilo bird was never straightforward, but having Jemimah as an attentive audience, Michael was pleased that he and Mr Jones got the bird treated with a minimum of ruffled feathers - for the ostrich or them. It had been fun showing Jemimah around the breeding pens, and her pleasure in seeing the young ones buoyed his own spirits.

It was easy to take for granted the simple joys of rural life, like cruising through the paddocks on the quadrunner or being here with the ostriches - but experiencing them fresh through Jemimah's eyes added a new sweetness to them.

After her being so distressed earlier, it was an answer to prayer to see her able to enjoy the experience. He was perfectly aware that the effort had cost her - and she'd looked utterly stricken when Mr Jones made such a fuss over his black eye, but he was proud of her attempt to put it all behind them. He'd already been considering what other fun activities he could suggest for the rest of the afternoon, so when Mr Jones casually mentioned that Jess, his border collie, had produced a litter just ten days ago he hadn't hesitated before asking if they could go and have a look. Gaining experience with some non-threatening dogs was exactly what Jemimah needed.

Jess was an old friend, and her tail thumped heavily against the wooden verandah floor as they approached her box. Michael hadn't forgotten Jemimah's antipathy to dogs, and rested his hand reassuringly against the small of her back. She stiffened as Jess rose in greeting, only moving forward again after the dog settled back down in her box. He crouched down to rub between Jess's ears.

"What have you got here, my darling?" he crooned, smiling at the little balls of black and white fluff that squirmed against her. "Can you see them, Jemimah?" he asked, looking up over his shoulder at her.

She leaned a little closer, a smile breaking across her face as she saw the puppies. "Oh, aren't they cute!" Michael noticed though, that while either Gabi or Angie would have had their hands full of puppies by now, Jemimah's hands remained by her side.

Perhaps she didn't have the confidence? Michael scooped one up, unable to resist rubbing his nose against its soft fur. "Hello, little one." A tiny pink tongue licked his thumb and its tail, thinner than Michael's little finger flicked back and forward against his hand.

"You'll have a cuddle of one of the puppies, won't you?" Michael held it out to Jemimah, daring her with his eyes. If these didn't melt her reserve to dogs, nothing would.

"Okay," she said, glancing down at Jess as if a little unsure, and Michael suggested she take a seat on the bench a little further along on the verandah.

She looked more relaxed with some distance between her and the adult dog, and reached out to take the puppy from Michael.

"Oh, it's like a little teddy bear!" she said, turning it around so she could see its face. Michael leaned over, feeling like a proud father showing off his newborn child as Jemimah examined it in delight.

"Look, it's got little tiny paws ... and look at its tail. That means it's happy, doesn't it?"

Michael nodded, smiling as he saw the glow of pleasure in Jemimah's eyes that meant that she was happy, too.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of movement as another little puppy face peered over the side of the box and grinned at him. Michael rose and saw the intrepid pup had climbed up on top of his siblings and was just hooking a leg over the top of the open wooden crate. A moment later he was tumbling over the edge and after a little roll as he landed, he was up on all four paws as if looking for adventure.

"Come here, you little rascal." Michael picked him up before he could get into any more mischief. He carried him back over to the bench and sat down beside Jemimah, the puppy curled up in her lap and her head bent forward as she gently stroked it. "It's going off to sleep," she whispered, a beautiful smile curving her lips.

The feel of little puppy teeth chomping down on his thumb recalled Michael's attention. "You are a rascal," he told it, extricating his thumb and turning the little pup over onto its back, rubbing its smooth little tummy and reducing the little creature to puppy bliss.

"You two kids got time for a cuppa?"

Michael grinned as Mr Jones stumped up the verandah stairs. He was always going to be a kid as far as his neighbours were concerned.

"That would be lovely," he said, after glancing across at Jemimah thinking it would give her a good chance to get to know the couple a little better. They weren't part of the church and tended to keep to themselves, but once they accepted you, they would be your friends for life.

"Good-o. I'll let the missus know you're here. She might even be able to rustle up a bit of cake."

"Mrs Jones’ 'bits of cake' are something of a legend," Michael told Jemimah, after Mr Jones kicked off his boots and went inside. "You're in for a treat."

A moment later Mr Jones poked his head out of the screen door and called out to Jemimah. "How do you have your cuppa?"

When she hesitated, Michael called back and said, "Just like mine."

"Yes, thank you," Jemimah said and then asked shyly, "May I ..." she glanced down at the sleeping puppy, "may I wash my hands first?"

"Sure - follow me," Mr Jones said, and Michael scooped the warm pup up and returned him to his mother. He kept hold of his own charge however, though he rescued the chewed end of his watch band from his busy jaws and swapped the pup to his other hand.

Michael took Jemimah's place on the bench, noting with approval that while she may have been a little too eager to wash the dog from her hands she had known to take off her borrowed boots before following Mr Jones inside. Country life might be new to her, but she was learning fast.

A few minutes later Mr Jones returned with a cup in each hand. He gave one to Michael and settled himself against the railing opposite. "The missus is giving young Jemimah a tour of the grandkid's photos." He rolled his eyes, though not unkindly. "No point having ours go cold, is there?"

"Good thinking," agreed Michael, and indicated the pup that was exploring his lap. "What's this little fella's name?"

He screwed up his eyes for a moment then said, "I think that's the one the missus calls Rascal."

"Ha - that's exactly what I thought of. He was making his escape from the crate when I picked him up."

"He's the only one not spoken for, yet, either," Mr Jones said as Michael rolled the pup over in his lap and tickled his tummy again, the little legs closing in around his hand as it panted happily.

"What about you, Mikey? Been a long while since you've had a Collie of your own. Not since ... Well--" he let the sentence trail off and Michael bent his head down over the pup, gently pulling one of its ears between his fingers.

He'd had one of Mr Jones’ collie pups not long before his mother had died, an irresistible little bundle of fluffy mischief so much like Rascal. She had been a few months older at the time of his mum’s accident, and they’d returned home from Sydney late at night to find the pup had dug her way out under the gate. Michael hadn’t cried when he’d found her beside the main road after several hours searching by torchlight, but he'd never had another pet -- only the succession of farm dogs that were there to do a job.

Michael finished his cup of tea, and looked up at the farmer. "No, not since I moved to Sydney," he said evenly. "No place for a dog where I'm staying."

"You don’t have to take it back to the city - you seem to be home as often as you are away these days."

Michael shook his head slowly. "I'd love to - especially this little fella - but it'd just be another responsibility for Nan. She wouldn't thank you for talking me into it."

Mr Jones raised his eyebrows as though he disagreed, but took another tack. "The young lady there seemed quite taken with the puppy. Might be an incentive for her to come calling."

This made Michael laugh. "I don't have the impression that Jemimah's in need of any excuses to go visiting my family. They seem to have adopted her as one of their own - and she and Angie are apparently thick as thieves."

"I see," Mr Jones said, but shot him a wink as he drained his cup. Michael sighed. It wasn’t only the church people who were determined to play match maker then. Let him think what he liked, it wasn't worth trying to explain.

The screen door opened, and Michael rose to hold it open for the ladies. He took up a perch against the verandah, leaving the bench for Jemimah and Mrs Jones. Mrs Jones held out the cake plate to the men. "You'll have a piece won't you, Mikey?"

"Absolutely," he helped himself to a large slice of the moist butter cake. When he thought no-one was looking he dipped his finger in a little of the vanilla frosting, and let Rascal lick it off. A sharp elbow in his side let him know he hadn't been as surreptitious as he hoped.

Mr Jones chuckled. "Been telling 'im it was about time he got himself another pup. I think he and Rascal here would make a perfect match."

Jemimah looked up in interest and despite himself, Michael felt the heat going into his face. It would do her the world of good to have a pup to play with and become familiar with as it grew ... but ... there was just no way.

"He's gorgeous, but he'd hate living in Sydney as much as I'd hate leaving him behind here."

He stood up and, ignoring the pang it cost him, returned the little pup to its box. It immediately scrambled back up to edge of the box, but Michael resolutely turned his back on it and changed the subject. "Jemimah was saying how she'd like to bring her infants class around to see the ostriches sometime."

"That's a nice idea," Mrs Jones said, turning to Jemimah. "We used to have the children around not long after we started, but that was a long time ago, now. What do you think, Cliff?"

Michael pinched another slice of cake and settled back on the railing as he left the others to discuss the details. After another round of cuppas, he suggested it was time they thought about heading back.

"What a lovely couple," Jemimah said to him as they made their way back to the quadrunner. "Thank you so much for introducing me. And the puppies were so sweet, too." She walked on beside him in silence for a few moments before asking, "Were you really tempted?"

He hesitated, catching her keen gaze on him as he glanced at her. He was beginning to suspect that she saw more than he would have guessed.

“A-huh. I could have quite happily tucked that little rascal into my shirt and brought him home.” He smiled, a little nostalgically. “Well, I would have if I were still eight years old and convinced he’d be no trouble to anyone at all. It’s a pain being grown-up and practical, isn’t it?”

Jemimah nodded. “It’s a lot of work, isn’t it, having a puppy?”

“In a sense it is, but it’s like doing things for anyone you love -- you really don’t mind the effort. Or the chewed up shoes. But I just wouldn’t be here to do it, or to enjoy him growing up.”

They’d reached the quadrunner, and Michael turned to Jemimah as she stood back to let him pass. “Uh-uh. You had a free ride on your way over here -- it’s your turn to drive now.”

Jemimah looked at him incredulously, then shook her head. “No, thank you -- I don’t know the first thing about ... about things like this.”

“It’s simple -- there’s nothing to it. Gabi and Angie have been riding them since they were kids. I’ve no doubt you’ll pick it up just as easily. It’ll take you all of two minutes to learn how to ride it.” She still looked unconvinced so he added gently, “I’ll be right behind you -- I can even reach the steering and brakes if need be. Nothing can go wrong, okay?”

She frowned, as if contemplating a trip to the dentist. “Oookaaay.” She drew out the word reluctantly, on a long breath. “If you’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Michael grinned, and stepped forward to start it up, eagerly explaining the workings of the throttle and the brakes and then invited Jemimah to step forward. “Are you ready?”

Jemimah climbed hesitantly on, but as she reached forward to put her hands on the handgrips a wave of panic washed over her face. Michael could tell from her expression she was about to bolt from the bike, so he hopped on quickly behind her before she had the chance to escape.

It took no more than three seconds to realise the awful gravity of his mistake.