Promises

by Cathryn Hein

  Like mother, like daughter. But no longer.

  ‘I don’t care about your mother or my father, Aaron. I only care about you.’

  He stood and, as if he hadn’t heard, began to snatch at bucket handles.

  ‘Your mother says your father hit her.’

  Aaron dropped back down, staring at the buckets, his eyes unfocused.

  ‘Nothing’s safe from her, is it? She’ll try anything, say anything. Just as long as the world stays revolving around her.’ He shook his head. ‘Christ, I hate her.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. But she and my father aren’t important any more. Only you and I are.’

  ‘There is no you and I,’ he said flatly. ‘There never will be.’

  Sophie swallowed her rising panic. Why?’

  He resumed picking up the buckets. ‘I’ve told you why.’

  ‘And I told you that I don’t care.’ She rose and grabbed at his arm. ‘I know the truth now. You don’t have to feel guilty about your mother.’

  ‘I never felt guilty about my mother.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Aaron, talk to me!’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can!’

  Chaff and oats went flying as he threw the buckets across the room. He turned and gripped her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t you get it? It’s you, Sophie. That’s what I feel guilty about. For what I did to you!’ He let go, snatched up a tattered straw broom and with aggressive sweeps began cleaning up the mess he’d made.

  Sophie blinked through the rising dust. ‘I don’t understand. You never did anything to me.’

  He dropped the broom and reached out to touch her face, his fingers cold on her skin. ‘I did, and I’m sorrier than you can ever imagine.’ His hand fell. He turned his back and resumed his sweeping. ‘Go home. There’s nothing for you here.’

  All her hopes slithered from the room like nest of hatched snakes. She sat down heavily on a bag of oats, and gazed at the dusty timber floorboards.

  ‘I love you,’ she said softly. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything?’

  He stilled, his knuckles tight on the broom handle. ‘It means everything.’ He looked at her with an aching compassion that made her throat burn. ‘But it’s pointles.’

  ‘Because you think I’ll stop loving you the moment I find out what you did?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But isn’t that what you want, for me to stop loving you?’

  He looked away.

  ‘So tell me. Get it over and done with. Tell me your big secret, so I can do what you want. Tell me so I can start hating you.’

  The feed room filled with the echo of her demand, reverberating off the ceiling, bouncing off the walls, multiplying. Growing louder, until it reached a shriek so high it could only be heard in their heads.

  ‘But you can’t, can you, Aaron?’ she whispered. ‘Because you don’t want me to stop loving you. Because you love me.’

  Without saying a word, Aaron dropped the broom and walked out.

  But Sophie knew she had hit her mark.

  Twenty

  Aaron cocked his head. It didn’t take much to work out Sophie had arrived in the yard. If it wasn’t for the sound of her car, the reactions of the horses would be indication enough.

  Although he’d never say it to her, he was glad she’d defied his ban, that their fight in the feed room a week ago hadn’t stopped her from coming to see the horses each afternoon.

  He still missed her morning presence acutely. He missed her laughter, her kindness, the way she made his stomach lurch when she smiled that beautiful, gut-twisting shy smile, her intelligence and humour, the easy, confident way she rode, her unconscious sexiness, her vulnerability, the way she made him feel protective and desperate to keep her from harm.

  He missed every perfect and imperfect bit of her.

  Why couldn’t he just tell her? Everything would be resolved then. All he had to do was sit her down and say the words and it would be over. But Sophie had been right. He couldn’t, because he loved her and didn’t want to lose her.

  He was as selfish now as he was then. Time had cured nothing.

  He stared at the bills spread out over the table. Several had ‘Final Notice’ stamped across them in red ink. Both Rowdy and Pollyanna were racing this weekend, and if they won, the red ink would be gone. He’d still have the heavy weight of Hakea Lodge’s mortgage on his back, but he didn’t care so much about the bank – it held the title deeds as surety and would never be out of pocket if he went under. The local businesses he owed money to, small operators like himself, people he’d known for years, weren’t so lucky. They could only rely on his honesty and the hope he’d come good. He couldn’t let them down.

  He packed the invoices and statements into a pile, keeping the most urgent on top. It still looked bad, but the tide had started to turn. Proving his previous performance wasn’t a fluke, Costa Motza had run another second, beaten by a very short-priced favourite against a strong field. The other horses had gained some much needed placings, and last weekend, Rowdy had taken out the Mount Campbell Steeplechase, which injected twenty thousand dollars into Aaron’s overdraft. Word of his latest winning streak had spread and the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Creditors, knowing he had money, demanded their cut before it went to someone else.

  He left the bills on the table where he knew Danny would see them. It never hurt to remind the jockey that his position, not to mention his extorted free accommodation, was only secure as long as Hakea Lodge remained afloat. Aaron mightn’t be able to sack him, but a bank would have no qualms. He’d love to see the look on Danny’s face when that happened. All the secrets in the world wouldn’t save him then.

  Aaron fingered the top bill. It would never come to that because he wouldn’t let it. Hakea Lodge would survive no matter what, and if that meant putting up with Danny, then he would endure his presence regardless of how much the little bastard made his skin crawl.

  To his surprise, when he went outside, he found Sophie sitting on the verandah step, her head leaning against the post and her eyes half-closed. The sun was shining, beaming warmth onto the yard, teasing them that, though it was now the first day of June, winter hadn’t really arrived.

  ‘Sophie?’ He crouched down next to her. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Tess is gone,’ she said flatly. ‘She left for rehab this morning.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘She’s stuck in a pretty bad place but at least she has hope now, and knowing she’ll have Braeburn at the end makes all the difference. She even gave me a hug and thanked me for talking to Dad.’

  He gently brushed hair away from her face, wondering why she looked so sad. ‘So, what’s the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She raised her head to look at him. ‘I guess I’ll miss her.’

  ‘Tess? After all she’s done to you?’

  ‘I know it sounds stupid, but yes.’ She wrapped her arms around her legs, staring across the yard at Rowdy with her chin resting on her knees. ‘Tess could be horrible but at least she was always there.’ She frowned as if she didn’t like the way that sounded. ‘I don’t know. I feel like something’s ended. Like I’ve been cut free at last.’

  ‘And that’s a bad thing?’

  ‘No, it’s not. But I think it might take a while to get used to.’ She let go of her knees and stood up, looking back down at him. ‘Dad’s going to talk to the trustees. He can’t see any reason why they wouldn’t let me come into my inheritance early.’

  ‘That’s great, Sophie. It’s what you wanted.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, squinting toward the horizon. ‘I have almost everything I wanted. So why do I feel so empty?’

  Aaron knew the answer, but what was the point in saying it?

  Suddenly, she smiled. ‘Still, I can’t complain too much. I have loads to be grateful for. Besides, if I get really desperate for someone to t
alk to, there’s always Sammy and Del. And unlike Tess, they don’t answer back.’

  Relief bathed him with warmth that far outdid any morning sunshine. Sophie was back smiling, her gloomy thoughts forgotten. He grinned at her. ‘And Buck and Chuck. Don’t forget them.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘And cattle. You have lots of fat Herefords to keep you company.’

  ‘They burp and fart a lot though.’

  ‘True.’ He laughed. ‘But then so do I.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘No. Not really.’ He eyed her sheepishly. ‘Well, a bit.’ He stood and gripped her shoulders. ‘I’m a bloke, Sophie. It happens.’

  She rolled her eyes. ’No wonder I prefer horses.’

  ‘Oh, and you don’t burp and fart?’

  ‘No. Not much.’ She paused. ‘Well, a little.’

  They stared at one another and then burst out laughing. Aaron gave her a hug, wanting to feel her giggling against him, wanting so much of what he couldn’t have. He let her go, smiling at her shining eyes and tucking her hair behind her ears so he could see her face properly. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that she’d always have him to talk to, but kept the words buried where they belonged.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Soph. It’ll just take a bit of getting used to.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway I’ll be too busy to think about being lonely.’

  ‘Why? ’

  ‘You should see the state of the cottage. It’ll take me a week just to get rid of the bottles.’

  Aaron stared into the distance. A ute was parked at the gate of Sophie’s lucerne paddock, its occupants having wandered into the centre of the stand. Aaron recognised the unmistakably solid form of Ben Moore. He stood with a long-lensed camera in his hands and his face turned to Sophie as she, oblivious to his scrutiny, knelt in the dirt, busily inspecting plants.

  She’d warned him Ben was coming to take some photographs for the Harrington Rural Traders newsletter, that it was purely a professional arrangement, but the sight of them together was still a horse-kick in the stomach. He turned away.

  Danny drew Psycho alongside Rowdy. ‘That’s Sophie with that bloke from the farm place, isn’t it?’

  Like the rat he was, Danny had sensed something was up. More than once he’d brought up with Aaron the rumour that Sophie had had a one-night stand with Ben Moore, just to provoke a reaction. It had taken every scrap of willpower Aaron had to stay impassive. He knew exactly what had happened that night and it still haunted him.

  He ignored Danny’s question and they rode on, Aaron restraining himself from galloping Rowdy at the barbed-wire fence separating him from Sophie and jumping it like some deranged medieval knight ready to defend his maiden’s honour.

  As they reached the corner, Sophie rose and turned to watch. Ben stood with her and Aaron found he couldn’t take his eyes off him. But Ben wasn’t interested in him. Aaron may as well have not existed. Ben was looking only at Sophie, at her watching Aaron with an unwavering gaze.

  Rowdy called out to his mistress and baulked as Aaron urged him on. The horse kept whinnying and staring back at Sophie, and Aaron had the weird feeling Rowdy had read his mind and was only doing what he would do if he had the guts.

  ‘She’s coming to the fence, boss,’ said Danny. ’You want to stop?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She’s waving.’

  Aaron kicked Rowdy hard. The horse pigrooted and was rewarded with another kick. ‘I don’t give a toss if she’s cartwheeling. Keep going.’

  Danny smiled, exposing yellow teeth that reminded Aaron of a rabid dog. ‘You’ve got the hots for her, I reckon.’

  Aaron was too angry with himself to speak.

  ‘Yep, you’ve got it bad for young Sophie. She’d be a good catch, too, with that farm of hers and her old man being so rich and powerful. Marry her and you’d be set. Probably forget all about old Danny-boy.’ Danny let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Lucky she doesn’t know about that other business. Imagine what she’ll say when she finds out what you did.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Danny’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’ll find out one day. Word can get around, if you know what I mean.’

  Aaron grabbed Danny by the front of his jumper, almost dragging him off Psycho. ‘If anyone’s telling her anything, it’ll be me, you hear?’ He shook him. ‘You hear?’

  ‘Yeah, boss. I hear.’

  Aaron let him go, furious with himself for exposing his temper. He pushed Rowdy into a canter and then let him have his head, galloping up the two hills toward home and allowing the wind to whip away his anger until he was left with only sorrow and the haunt of Danny’s threat.

  Twenty-one

  ‘I don’t want you to run him,’ said Sophie, reaching out to stroke Rowdy’s nose. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  It had been over a month since she had spoken properly to Aaron, since she had confessed her fear of loneliness and he had responded by holding her in his comforting, secure embrace. Just as she told Aaron she would, she’d ignored his ban from the yard, paying it the lip service it deserved. Every afternoon at three o’clock, when she knew Danny had gone for the day, she drove in and parked in her usual place. She wanted to see the horses, her horses. If he wanted to stop her, he’d have to lock the gate.

  Her visits also served as a way to remind him of her presence, that no matter how pointless he claimed her love was, she wasn’t about to give up and leave his life. Each time she left Vanaheim for Hakea Lodge, she clung to the hope that today would be the day Aaron caved in and told her his secret, and finally freed himself from the past. That she would take his hand and, with her forgiveness, walk him into the future. A future together, where they laughed and touched and kissed and loved. Where her terrible yearning for him would at last be assuaged.

  Mostly he avoided her, hiding in the house, or in the feed or tack rooms, but today he’d actively sought her out. It was early July. The Springbank Cup was just four weeks away and Aaron needed to organise Rowdy’s work schedule so he was in peak fitness for the race. But as stipulated in their agreement, he had to first ask Sophie’s permission, something she wasn’t inclined to grant.

  ‘One hundred thousand dollars, Sophie. Have you any idea what that could do? It could turn this place around. I could build more yards, take on more horses, renovate the pastures and have spelling paddocks, agist, make hay like you do.’

  ‘Yeah, and Rowdy could be dead.’

  He raised his eyes skywards. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’

  She glared at him. ‘You’re not running him.’

  He leaned his back against Rowdy’s half-door with his arms crossed and his head down. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but she could hear the passion behind it.

  ‘This is my chance, Soph. I only have one shot at it. The Springbank Cup would save this place.’ He looked at her, his eyes intense. ‘I have things I need to do, to make up for the mistakes I made. This is one of them. Don’t take it from me.’

  Sophie looked at Rowdy, at his big brown eyes and white star and floppy lips, and then back at Aaron. There was no contest.

  She sighed. ‘Danny’s not to ride him.’

  He straightened, reached out for her hand and briefly clasped it. ‘Thank you.’

  She shrugged. ‘You’ve made it pretty hard for me to say no.’

  ‘But he’s your horse.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re much better looking.’

  Aaron turned away from her, a cute blush creeping up his neck, then he mumbled something about organising feeds and walked quickly away. For a moment, she wanted to give chase and kiss every embarrassed bit of him. But then Rowdy snuffled his nose in her hair and her heart sank as she remembered what she’d just agreed to.

  She stepped into the stable and pressed her face against Rowdy’s warm neck, stroking his shiny coat.

  He’d been so brave this last month – fighting for the lead in some tough races. Aaron had been right from the start.
Rowdy had enormous potential. Although he’d only won once, he had yet to finish a race out of the money. It was logical to enter him in the biggest race of the season.

  The Springbank Cup. The name rattled with the weight of its past and its history of tragic accidents. The race was infamous not for its length – at five thousand metres one of the longest in the country – but for the sheer number of obstacles the horses had to negotiate. No other steeplechase in the world had that many fences. The Springbank Cup was unique, treacherous, and terrifying.

  And now her beloved Rowdy was going to run in it.

  ‘Knowing you, you’ll probably win,’ she said, tickling him under the chin. Sophie knew there hadn’t been a death of either horse or jockey during the Cup for over five years. The jumps, although still numerous, had been altered and made safer, and the steeplechase track redesigned to provide better footing for the horses. She understood this, but the knowledge didn’t stop her panicking at the thought of Rowdy competing.

  Two more weeks passed. Winter shrouded the south-east in its dull coat. To Sophie and other graziers’ relief, the Bureau’s forecast remained correct. The weather, though cold and wet, was mild in comparison to the previous few years, with days of sunshine followed by overnight rain. Through careful paddock rotation Sophie had ensured this year’s calves were spoilt with feed, and they gained weight at an impressive pace. Sophie had lost only one older cow to grass tetany, and daily feeds of magnesium oxide-treated hay had helped prevent further occurrences. The new bull she’d purchased during the district’s Beef Week back in February had taken to his task with enthusiasm, and she’d repainted and tidied Tess’s cottage to the point where she could now consider putting it up for rent. Yet instead of contentment, Sophie felt restless, plagued by a vague illness she couldn’t identify. No matter what she did, her mind was constantly drawn to Hakea Lodge and Aaron.

  On top of that, there was Rowdy. Magnificent, beautiful Rowdy. When she wasn’t dreaming of Aaron, her nights were filled with images of Rowdy’s muscled brown body lying still and silent on the track, of eyes filled with agony as he tried not to put weight on a broken leg. Of screams as his forelegs thrashed the ground while his hind legs remained unmoving, the result of a broken back.