When he had offered to teach Jemimah to ride, Michael hadn’t given the change in seating arrangement a second thought -- after all, hadn’t he doubled behind his sisters countless times? But the instant he had taken his seat behind Jemimah, the realisation that she wasn’t just one of his sisters hit him with a confronting clarity.

His heart hammered in response to the unexpected closeness and the sensation of her tiny waist beneath his hands, and there was nothing brotherly about the heat that flared in his face and neck.

What if Jemimah thought he had engineered this - that he was deliberately trying to take advantage of the situation? What kind of man would she think him? He nearly hopped straight back off the quad before deciding that trying to explain his sudden change of heart would only make things ten times more awkward for her -- and for him.

He slowly let out his breath, determined to ignore the soft curve of her hips beneath his now slackened grip. He knew his motives had been innocent in offering to teach her to ride -- thinking only of giving her the enjoyment of learning something new -- he could only hope she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay, ease on the throttle,” he said as casually as he could manage. Jemimah tentatively reached her hand up to the throttle -- but after it hovered above it for a few seconds, she shook her head and drew her hand back to her lap.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

Michael could just catch her soft words over the noise of the engine, and sensed more than heard the defeat in her voice. He tried to shake the fog of distraction from his mind, and get back to his original purpose. “Of course you can,” he said bracingly.

“I’m frightened it will start up too fast.”

“You just need to do it gently -- you can go as slowly as you like. Here,” he reached his right hand around her to take the throttle himself. The movement drew him even closer, and he was startled to feel the thumping of her heart against his chest even over the pounding of his own.

Poor girl! He’d been so absorbed with his own reaction to her closeness and his concern she’d suspect him of ulterior motives in setting this up, that he’d been oblivious to her fear about operating the quadrunner.

For a moment he wondered if, after the ordeal he’d put her thought that morning, he had just put her under more -- and unnecessary -- pressure, but quickly dismissed his misgivings. To give up now would be even worse, leaving her feeling a failure because of his own sense of guilt. Jemimah could do this; she just needed a little encouragement.

“Are you ready?” He covered her dainty, fairy-like hand with his own, and moved the handgrip a fraction of an inch, so that the bike began to move forward barely perceptibly. He let it off, and the bike stopped.

“You see, you can just ease it on as slowly as you like,” he repeated the acceleration, this time letting the bike pick up a little more speed before releasing the throttle again. “And as soon as you let go, it will stop. Okay?”

He lifted his hand from hers, but kept it close, pleased as she attempted it on her own. After a few gradual starts and stops the bike moved steadily forward.

“Good, that’s it! Now, steer towards that gap in the trees. I’m going to get you to go back out along the road instead of across the paddock.”

Michael returned his hand to her waist, still acutely aware of her nearness, but determined not to dwell on it. They were moving barely faster than a walking pace, and within a couple of minutes he could feel Jemimah beginning to relax. It was working.

“A bit faster now,” he encouraged, and could detect a minute increase in speed.

“Now try your brakes.” Michael moved his foot just to the offside of the brake, and his left hand hovered over the lever, but he didn’t need to intervene. The bike slowed to a gentle stop, and Jemimah let out a huge sigh.

“There you go - I told you you could do it!” he squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “Now this time, I want you to get up to thirty kilometres an hour - it’s a good clear bit of road.”

Jemimah took a deep breath and nodded, and slowly started the bike off again. Michael watched over her shoulder as the speedo climbed almost imperceptibly. It hovered at 20 kph until Michael gave her a gentle nudge, and ordered “Faster!”

Eventually Jemimah brought the bike up to 30 kph and, after a several minutes and feeling that she was riding confidently at that speed, Michael leaned forward to speak in her ear.

“You’re doing great! Only you need to go a bit faster now!”

Jemimah’s laugh vibrated with the sound of suppressed excitement, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh!”

Buoyed by her obvious enjoyment, Michael reached past her, and placed his hands over hers on the hand grips.

“Faster!” he teased, easing the throttle open, and sliding his right foot under hers to cover the foot brake.

Jemimah shrieked as the speedo rose quickly to forty, but reassured by her laughter that she wasn’t really too scared, Michael pulled harder on the throttle until they reached top speed. His arms encircled her and her soft hair whipped against his face, fragrant with the scent of dry grass and some unfamiliar but tantalising perfume. As they bore down on a rapidly approaching pothole he felt her tense, but after he neatly steered around it she relaxed back against him, as though content he was now in full control of the bike.

Michael grinned. Her patent trust in him was even more intoxicating than her exhilarated whoop as he swerved off the road and back through the long grass toward the home paddock, but his mind resisted any attempt to define the emotions. After a few more minutes, he began to ease off the throttle, and the bike gradually slowed down until they were stopped in front of the closed gate.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, releasing her from the circle of his arms and climbing off the bike.

Jemimah turned to face him, her face flushed and her eyes dancing.

“I can’t believe you did that, making it go so fast while I was driving! I nearly had a heart attack!” she chided breathlessly, pressing one hand to her chest. “But it was fun. Mad. But fun.”

Michael laughed too, unable to look away from her face. She was glowing with colour and vitality -- a welcome change from the pale shadow with sad eyes he’d watched across the table only a couple of hours earlier. Thank you God, the words welled up inside him, even without knowing exactly what he was thanking God for. He just knew he felt incredibly grateful.

Realising he’d been standing there staring too long, he walked toward the gate.

“You’re doing really well, Jemimah,” he called out as unbolted the gate and dragged it open. “Now try it on your own and take it through the gate. No - don’t give me that look. You’ll do fine.”

Jemimah frowned with concentration, and slowly the bike moved off. She rode through the gateway, and stopped again just a little way ahead.

“Perfect!” Michael called out then pulled the gate shut after him, but by the time he’d secured it again she’d hopped off the quad and stood waiting for him.

“What’s this? Are you quitting?” He spread out his arms in disbelief.

Jemimah nodded, a cheeky smile curving her lips. “You said it was perfect -- what more is there to accomplish? After you, Mr Turnbull,” she waved him forward to the quad. “I thank you for the experience, but I much prefer to be a back seat driver.”

Michael bowed chivalrously and took his seat at the controls, a deep sigh escaping him. Surely it was relief at escaping the awkward situation he’d unwittingly created -- so why was there a sense of loss? All that mattered was that Jemimah was enjoying herself, and if she was happy to end the lesson . . .

“Look!” Jemimah put her hand on his arm, abruptly interrupting his confused thoughts. He turned and followed her intent gaze to the shade of a clump of trees not much more than fifty metres away, where a small flock of kangaroos stood, upright and alert and staring in their direction.

He smiled at her rapt expression. “So you’re not sick of the sight of them by now?”

Jemimah shook her head, not aware that he was teasing. “Oh, no! I don’t think I could ever be tired of seeing them. It still feels kind of special, as if they’re something magical. Look! There’s a joey!”

The kangaroos had begun to relax their vigilance, and one kangaroo, leaning forward on its dainty forearms to nibble at the grass, had turned so that they could clearly see the little head peering from her pouch.

“Do they ever get used to you enough so that you can go up and touch them?”

“No. Not here, anyway,” Michael answered, and then chuckled. “We don’t actually try to ingratiate ourselves with them, if you can believe that -- but when they get too populous, they’re competing with our cattle for the grazing. But, if you take a day trip up to the National Park at Mount Kaputar, the roos there are so used to visitors they’ll try to take the food from your picnic table.”

Jemimah was watching the kangaroos, but Michael was watching her, experiencing a real pleasure in her simple delight. Somehow by her stopping to savour the beauty of moments like this, she captured something special for him to enjoy, too.

Sitting so still and quiet as the gentle afternoon breeze played around them, Michael sought to identify the sense of mellowness settling over him. What was it? The closest he could come was recognising the kind of warm weariness one feels after laughing long and hard with friends -- wishing the shared moment of uninhibited emotion would never end.

After several more minutes, Jemimah turned to him guiltily. “I’m sorry. I could stand there all day watching them.”

Before he had a chance to say she was more than welcome to, she climbed onto the quad behind him. Even though she was no longer between his arms, as she had been just a little while earlier, he was still aware of her nearness. It had been an honest error, treating her exactly the way he would have acted toward his own sisters, but he’d learned his lesson now, and would be careful not to arrange any more rides on the quad. If they headed back to the Jones’ farm again in the future, it would have to be in the ute.

The sound of the quadrunner startled the kangaroos, and by the time his path took them toward the tree where they had been gathered, the mob had taken flight. For a few perfect moments, the roos raced alongside the bike, their lithe grey bodies stretching out in streamlined arcs as they bounded over the waving grasses. He could sense Jemimah’s wordless pleasure, and he praised God for the beauty of his creatures, seeing in them anew the magic he’d forgotten long ago.

Feeling slightly guilty about keeping Jemimah away from his family so long, Michael nevertheless took the long way home, savouring the shared enjoyment of the blue skies and golden grass waving in the deepening afternoon sun.

Jemimah saw the back of the Turnbull’s home looming up ahead, and felt an inward sigh of regret that the ride must soon be over. She’d felt conscience-stricken when she’d forgotten herself and spent so long watching the kangaroos -- sure that after all the time she’d taken up Michael would be keen to be home and free to pursue his own plans -- but had gradually realised he was taking a route back that was far from the most direct. Surely, if he had been impatient to get back and not waste any more time, he could have gone straight home?

Michael steered the bike around the side of the house and drew up on the patio near the front door. Nan emerged from the door just as Jemimah was climbing off, her expression one of pleased expectation.

“How did you go? Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes, thank you. It was lovely,” Jemimah answered, her mind still full of the trip home, flying alongside kangaroos and cruising through the golden seas of grass.

“That’s great. Gabi rang. Good news from Jamie and Mitch. They’ve found your snake and ... dealt with it.”

The sudden mention of the snake was like a bucket of cold water dashed into her face. She blinked, as though waking up from a dream to a reality she wished she hadn’t returned to.

“Ashley and Gabi are on their way over now,” Nan continued. “Ashley’s happy to give you a lift home with him if you’d like.”

Sudden dread twisted Jemimah’s stomach. Involuntarily, she glanced over at Michael, seeing again the horrible bruising around his eye and cheek. She remembered how awful it had been meeting Mr Jones and seeing his immediate reaction to Michael’s injuries, and knew there was no way Gabi or Ashley would be so easily fobbed off with a glib explanation.

Jemimah felt ill -- trapped with no way of escape whether she left or stayed. Once Michael’s sister and her fiancé had seen him there would be the terrible questions, and she couldn’t imagine how she’d endure the trip home with Ashley once he knew.

She was vaguely aware of Michael asking Nan about the possibility of her staying the night instead, and Jemimah tried to shake herself awake herself from the internal nightmare that was threatening to engulf again.

“No, no -- I’m sorry. I’ll have to go.” And then, feeling she’d been rude in her vehemence, but too panicked to know how to fix it, “I’m sorry. It’s just ... I really must get back ... and if Ashley’s already coming ...”

Suddenly she was on the verge of crying all over again. The pleasure of the past few hours was dissolving, like Mary Poppins’ chalk paintings in the rain, as if they had never existed. She looked again at Michael’s face, at a loss to understand how she could have - even temporarily - forgotten the horror of everything she’d done.

Michael was talking to Nan again, but Jemimah couldn’t follow what he was saying until he turned to face her, looking more subdued than he had since lunch. “I’ll say good bye here, then, and leave you to get ready. I’m going to go and get that oil change done on my car before it gets too late. Thanks for coming over to the Jones’ with me, that was great. We’ll have to do it again, sometime.”

Jemimah nodded mutely and then he was gone. She followed Nan inside the house, hearing her saying she thought there’d just be time for a cuppa before the others arrived, and did Jemimah want to gather her things while she got it ready?

Sinking deeper into despair as she contemplated the arrival of Gabi and Ashley, Jemimah mechanically changed back into her own clothes, and brushed out her hair, snarled and tangled from her time on the bike. The cup of tea was almost cool by the time she joined Nan in the kitchen, and she’d barely drunk half when she heard the sound of Ashley’s car crunching along the driveway.

She stared into her tea, unable to bear the thought of what was to come.

A few moments later, the screen door opened and Gabi and Ashley entered. After greeting them both briefly, Ashley asked if Jemimah was ready. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d better not stop but head straight back. I think Dad still wants another several hours of picking from me.” His eyes met Gabi’s tenderly, “I was lucky to be allowed time off to see Gabi home, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have had even that time with her.”

Jemimah went out to the car with him and they were through the front gate and onto the road before she could take in what had happened or, more pertinently, what hadn’t. They’d left without seeing Michael or his father -- it hadn’t even occurred to either Gabi or Ashley that Michael was anywhere but in Sydney.

She sank back in her seat, dizzy with relief. Thank you, God. She had no doubt that Gabi would be hearing the full story already, and had no idea how she would ever look her in the eye again, but for this afternoon she’d been spared.

Ashley reached across and turned on his CD player, setting a mellow instrumental album in play. Jemimah was thankful for the companionable silence, feeling too much like a fraud to manage anything beyond the vaguest of small-talk. She was aware that she may have had a reprieve for now, but come tomorrow morning’s church service, there’d be no hiding what had happened.

How on earth could she get through the next few days?