Michael pulled into the farthest, darkest corner of the car park behind the Minningford homestead and unclenched his hands from the steering wheel. He snatched the key from the ignition but made no move to get out.

The drive there hadn’t been nearly long enough to bring his emotions under control --- he doubted driving the whole way back to Sydney would have been long enough for that.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and covered his face with his hands. His pulse throbbed behind his eyes but there was no peace even in the silence of his car.

How could Jemimah have changed so much?

The scene in the kitchen seemed burned into his eyes. The image of a young woman standing provocatively in front of the window like some femme fatale, all bare skin and figure-flaunting red gown. The hot flare of physical response that surged through him in the seconds before he could comprehend what was happening and guard himself. The belated recognition --- this woman with short-cropped hair was, incomprehensibly, Jemimah Parker. Then the sickening realisation she was the unnamed local girl that Sonja’s three friends had gossiped about during the interminable drive from Sydney. The mystery girl that Derek Winslow was taking to the ball --- the one who had taken the place of Derek’s now-ex girlfriend Yolanda.

It would have been less devastating to walk into the kitchen and see the ceiling collapsing and roof tiles shattering to the floor than being hit by the shock what of Jemimah had become. A shattered roof would have been infinitely preferable - he could have rolled up his sleeves and begun clearing through the rubble. But this was a disaster he had no idea how to face.

Michael rubbed his forehead, then pushed his fingers through the roots of his hair as though it could relieve some of the tension. How could he have been so wrong about her?

How many weeks had it been since Jemimah had tearfully shared her testimony? He would have staked his life on her genuine commitment to God, her tender conscience, her Christlike heart.

How had everything that was so pure and precious and perfect about her been swallowed up by the same empty worldliness that seemed to characterise almost every young woman he knew? What had it taken to so quickly tempt her down that path?

He’d been so sure Jemimah was different but, obviously, his own naivety had betrayed him. Apparently, she’d merely lacked the opportunity. From what he’d heard today --- and now seen with his own eyes --- she’d been ready to throw away everything that mattered at the slightest encouragement from Derek Winslow.

He rubbed his eyes, hard, but he could still see her standing brazen and proud in the kitchen, holding his eyes unflinchingly. Not a hint of self-consciousness, no explanations, no excuses.

The headlights of another car flashed across his dashboard and reminded him of the passing of time. He clenched his jaw and flipped down the sun-visor to check his appearance in the mirror, grudgingly grateful for the appointment Sonja had made him take with a high-end stylist friend of hers. The precision cut was apparently unshakeable and his reflection betrayed no hint of the maelstrom within.

With a grunt he hauled himself out of the car and slammed the door. He’d begun to walk away before remembering the corsage for Sonja and his matching buttonhole in the boot of his car. He stomped back and grabbed the flowers out of the esky with far less care than he’d packed them early that morning.

Then, with a grim determination to do his duty, he strode toward the ballroom.

Minningford was lit up like a fairy-tale palace, but Jemimah felt no joy of anticipation as they drove between the twinkling lights the men had strung from tree to tree. The misery she’d felt following Michael’s departure had solidified into an icy numbness encasing her heart and soul. If she was to follow through on tonight’s commitment, she could not dwell on the shame and guilt that wracked her, or what Michael, or Derek, or anyone else might think of her. She had only one aim now, one hope of survival: to face both these men with calm poise and maturity ---and not cry in front of either of them.

“Oh, look! There’s some of the group from Narrabri.” Angie pulled into a spot not far from where two couples were emerging from a Landcruiser. “Hurry up, and we’ll catch up with them.”

Hastily tugging her wrap around her shoulders, Jemimah noticed a reassuringly familiar vehicle parked a little closer to the house. “Is that Jack’s ute?”

Angie turned her head and gave an impatient huff. “Yes, it looks like it.”

“Would you mind --”

“If you want to go and say hello to people you see every day, I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to catch up with these guys.”

“Thank you, I think I will.”

Jemimah walked carefully across the gravelled area to the ute, where Jamie was unfolding himself out of the back passenger seat.

“Hi, Jamie,” she said, stepping out of the shadows behind the ute. “It’s a relief to see someone I know.”

Jamie turned with a start and just stared.

“Who is this beautiful woman that knows your name, Jamie?” Jamie's brother David appeared from the front passenger door and thumped him on the shoulder. “How about you introduce me?”

“What are you going on about, Davo?” Jack mocked him from the far side of the bonnet, “You know Jemimah, you idiot - you’ve met her at least twice already!”

David’s face changed comically. “What? No! This is the girl who came spotlighting? You’re joking!” He shook his head in disbelief and stared open mouthed at her. Jamie also remained frozen where he’d first seen her, but at least his eyes were fixed on her face.

Jack broke the awkward silence as he walked round the front of the ute. “You know, when I heard the rumour you were throwing yourself at Derek Winslow I thought, nah, no way.” He flashed Jemimah a cheeky grin. “But seeing you tonight I reckon you might actually be in with a chance.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Jack continued, slapping Jamie on the shoulder as he joined them. “I told Jamie-boy he needn’t feel too bad getting thrown over for the Cleo Bachelor of the Year.”

“What are you talking about?” she finally managed.

“You know - Cleo magazine.”

“Well, I know that it’s a magazine. Not that it’s one I’d ever read --”

“Good to hear.” Jack had crossed his arms across his chest in full big brother mode. “Derek won the annual reader poll a year or so ago. Surprised he didn’t give you an autographed photo with the ball invitation.”

Jemimah lifted her chin and fixed him with her ‘not amused’ teacher glare. Calm poise and maturity. “Derek’s partner was unable to come so he asked if I was able to step in as a dancing partner,” she said firmly, “and since I could, I said I would.”

“Hmph. I’m surprised Michael Turnbull didn’t ask you.”

His unexpected reference to Michael pierced straight through the ice encasing her heart but she managed to clamp her jaw tight against the gasp that rose up, breathing in slowly before replying in a carefully controlled tone, “But why would he?”

“Just wondered, that’s all,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “You two seem to get along particularly well together.”

“Far better than you and I do, that’s for sure,” she replied, belatedly wising up to his characteristic teasing. Now at least she was on familiar ground. “But Michael didn’t need a partner, he is here with Sonja Winslow.”

“Yeah, they’re always partners for this ball.”

Then why did you ask? she wanted to growl in frustration, but she knew the answer. Jack just could not resist stirring her up for the sport of it. Well, she wasn’t going to be blushing over Michael Turnbull tonight, not for Jack or for anyone else.

“Anyway, you are looking very lovely tonight, Sparky.” He inclined his head toward her in respect, but just as flickers of gratitude began to warm her Jack went on, “Shame you’re wasting it on old Derro, though, but there’s no accounting for lack of taste, is there?”

Jack gave her a satisfied grin as he pushed past Jamie to grab something from the ute’s backseat.

Jemimah shook her head slowly, her mouth curving into a reluctant smile at his mastery of the backhanded compliment.

“You are though,” Jamie said earnestly, shooting Jack a dark look when he guffawed from half within the ute’s cabin. “Very beautiful. Dressed very beautifully, I mean,” he amended hurriedly.

Jemimah’s heart did truly begin thaw at that. “Thank you very much - I really appreciate you saying that. And you are looking extremely handsome yourself, James Hart.”

Jamie’s neat formal tux, which she guessed had passed through several brothers before him, suited him surprisingly well. It was a little tight in the jacket and a little loose on the hips, but that only accentuated his height and broadening shoulders. Jamie was the gangliest of the Hart boys and Jemimah wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up being the tallest. For his sake, she hoped he would get to look down on Jack, at least.

Her gaze drifted to David, wearing a more modern black suit with cummerbund and bow tie, and then on to Jack. She could not keep from gasping as Jack straightened, still lit from the ute’s interior light. In contrast to his conservatively dressed brothers, from his fancy black Western boots to the high-necked satin vest beneath his jacket, Jack looked like the Sheriff from a Wild West movie who’d turned up to the wrong film set.

Headlights from another car swung across the boys like a spotlight picking out the details of Jack’s outfit in startling clarity. A huge silver and black belt buckle gleamed from his waist, the extravagant design mirrored by a smaller piece of jewellery strung around his throat on what looked a shoelace with shiny silver ends that dangled down his chest.

Was this a prank? Surely even Jack wouldn’t ...

“I see you’re taken aback at my splendour,” Jack said, beaming proudly as he slapped a black Akubra with a wide upswept brim on his head. The same silver accents glinted from the hat’s band.

“So, what do you think,” he prompted.

“I - I thought tonight was black tie?”

“Black tie is the minimum. This,” he gestured grandly to the entirety of his outfit, “exceeds black tie.”

That was one way of putting it, thought Jemimah, unable to look away from the strange ornament at his neck.

“But what is the necklace for?”

David gave a crow of laughter, but Jack just shook his head pityingly. “This, my ignorant child, is a bolo tie. B. O. L. O.”

Jemimah raised her eyebrows, not willing to bite. This felt very much like the beginning of another of his tall tales.

“Gen-u-ine Texan formal wear,” he continued. “It’s the real deal, onyx and silver and braided leather. My Grandaddy left it to me.”

“But why are you wearing it ... to a ball?”

“What could be better? It’s the Hart heritage, and there aren’t many events fancy enough to be worthy of it.”

“The Hart heritage? Texan?”

“Too right! Where did you think we come from?” He looked at her like she was stupid. “Our family’s been farming cotton for generations. But even Texas wasn’t big enough for my Grandaddy Hart, so he left the rest of the family back in the States and started the cotton farming industry out here.”

He was almost convincing, but this was Jack. She would be checking on this later. “Where in Texas was he from?”

“Hart, of course.”

“Hart?”

“Yup, the little old town of Hart. Where do you think the phrase ‘The Hart of Texas’ comes from?”

No. Jack might think her gullible, but surely that was too much for him to expect her to swallow. “You’re telling me there is really a town named after him?”

“Nah, not after him,” he laughed and for a moment she thought a confession was coming, but then he went on, “for my Great-Grandaddy Hart.”

“Are we going to stand here doing family history all night?” David cut in. “I thought we were coming early so we could start eating sooner.”

Jemimah glanced between the boys, still not sure whether there was any truth to this yarn or not, but their faces gave nothing away.

“Yes, I’d better be heading inside too - I’m meant to be there early to help out.”

Jack closed up the ute and pocketed the keys. “Where’s Angie? You came together, didn’t you?”

“Yes, she just saw some people she knows.” Jemimah indicated toward the far side of the parking area where the small group looked like they were starting to move towards ballroom. “You don’t mind if I come in with you?”

“Of course, not!” Jamie assured her, “That’d be really nice.”

“Are your partners meeting you here?” Jemimah asked as she walked with the Harts across the lawn.

David gave her a quizzical look. “What partners?”

“From the guest list I assumed they were maybe cousins or something ... Prima, Secunda and Tertia Hart?” Jemimah had winced at their names as she wrote the name tags, but thought that, perhaps, their parents were Lewis Carrol fans or just really into Latin.

Jack bellowed with laughter. “That’s just our little joke. Mum always books a whole table, and often invites people along to fill the spare places, but with Ashley and Gabi not coming this year I put in the extra names just to make sure we still get served the meals whether she brought someone at the last minute or not. Problem with hoity-toity food is there is never enough of it - two serves are almost enough for a healthy appetite.”

“Plus, two desserts each,” Jamie grinned down at Jemimah.

“Yeah, and if you brought a partner, they’d be on at you to dance with them all night,” Jack added.

“I thought that was why we had to have a partner to come,” Jemimah said remembering Angie’s explanation of why she had to partner Derek.

Jack snorted. “Harts don’t have to do anything!”

She couldn’t help but laugh. The Harts certainly did everything on their own terms. And somehow, that made everything seem a whole lot better. The very typically Hart encounter had achieved its effect, nicking tiny cracks into the ice that entombed her and letting the warmth of their friendship seep in just a little. Maybe the Lord hadn’t completely abandoned her after all.

The golden lights of the ballroom were spilling onto the courtyard, and the stonework of the fountain basked in the mellow glow of dozens of tiny jars lit with tea-lights. It really did look as magical as she’d envisaged.

Snatches of music and voices carried on the cold night air and Jemimah tensed as fear returned and dread spread over her like frost. Sonja and Michael were standing just inside the open French doors, ready to greet guests as they arrived. She should have expected that, but hadn’t, having planned to avoid interacting with Michael at all. She fell back to let Jack and David take the lead, and followed behind with Jamie, shivering as the chilly breeze ran its frigid fingers through her short hair and made her acutely aware of the exposed skin of her back and arms.

Jack enthusiastically greeted Michael and Sonja, and as David took his place shaking Michael’s hand and kissing Sonja’s cheek, Jack moved a step further inside to shake Derek Winslow’s hand.

“Yo, Derro! You know, I'm always amazed how you guys can scrub up such an old place to look half decent."

From where she was standing behind the boys, Jemimah couldn’t see Derek but the sarcasm in his voice carried with perfect clarity.

"Yes, with enough time and money one can transform most things into something acceptable. It's a shame, however, that the same can not be said for some of our guests."

Jemimah winced at the insult not even Jack could have missed and was surprised by his hearty laugh in reply. As Jamie moved forward, she glanced past him to see Jack clap Derek heartily on the shoulder.

“Ah, mate - that’s why you can always count on us Harts making such an effort to turn up for your do’s. Gotta do our bit to bring up the standards.”

The small inclination of Derek’s head towards Jack somehow perfectly expressed cold disdain, his lips curving thinly as he smoothly replied, “My point precisely.”

Jemimah held her breath for Jack’s response, but he only grinned the wider as he headed into the ballroom, as though he considered himself the victor in that encounter.

“Oh, darling! Don’t you look utterly gorgeous!”

Startled, Jemimah realised Jamie had moved forward to shake hands with Derek and glanced up to see Sonja with her arms stretched out toward her, regal and magnificent in a gown of swirling bronze and black. Michael stood like a granite effigy of a man beside her, no life or warmth in his eyes as his gaze met hers.

She’d thought he couldn’t hurt her more than he already had, but she was wrong. She inhaled the fresh shards of pain deep into her lungs but made herself smile as Sonja clasped her cold hands and bestowed an air kiss on her cheek.

Calm poise and maturity. I can do this. I must do this.

Still holding Jemimah’s hands, Sonja looked toward Michael. “I hear you two already know each other very well. But doesn’t she look absolutely wonderful tonight, Mikey?”

He inclined his head with an even chillier formality than Derek had just accorded Jack.

“We caught up with each other earlier at home.”

“Of course!” If Sonja had noticed his tone she gave no indication, but turned instantly to her other side, quietly speaking her brother’s name and drawing Jemimah toward him.

As Derek stepped away from Jamie Hart his gaze snapped immediately to Jemimah. She watched as his brows lifted slightly, and his ink blue eyes lit with interest as he focussed his attention fully on her. Several moments passed before she saw his eyes widen with recognition and an inscrutable smile began to play across his lips.

“Jemimah.”

He spoke her name slowly as though it were itself the ultimate compliment. Silence lengthened as he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers even as he inclined his head in a way that somehow conveyed deep respect and warm approval. “I am honoured.”

There was nothing inappropriate in either his words or expression, but no-one had ever looked at Jemimah that way and she found the intensity overwhelming.

Calm poise and maturity, she reminded herself. I can do this. I must do this.

She met Derek’s gaze without flinching, acutely aware of Michael’s stony glare and unwilling to expose her misery to either man.

She finally breathed again when Derek glanced aside at Sonja, catching her eye and saying softly, “May this be lesson for me to always trust my sister.”

Sonja returned his private smile, and as he turned back to Jemimah his attention shifted past her and toward the sound of laughter and voices from the courtyard.

“Ah, the ubiquitous Angela is in full sail tonight,” he murmured then moved smoothly to Jemimah’s side, gesturing with one hand into the ballroom while his other arm curved behind her to rest lightly against her back. “Now that you are here, there are some friends of mine I’d very much like you to meet.”

Jemimah’s hand fluttered upward but before she could ask to wait for Angie to join them, she caught sight of Michael’s face. His sudden change in expression left no doubt that he also had seen Angie approaching and dread loomed over her like an imminent avalanche. Without another moment’s hesitation Jemimah stepped into the protective circle of Derek’s arm, utterly grateful for the offered escape.