The Farmer's Perfect Match

by Marilyn Forsyth

  Meg: (Thoughtful pause) That man has a lot of the qualities I’m looking for in a partner.

  Evie: Like …?

  Meg: He’s intelligent. Gob-smackingly gorgeous! (Guffaw) Ooh, sorry Cam. Bit loud? I’ll try to keep it down. Back to Adam. He has a terrific sense of humour. He’s a … nice fella.

  Evie: Husband material?

  Meg: Maybe. I don’t know him well enough yet. I’m keeping an open mind.

  Evie: You’ve mentioned you’re competitive. How important to you is winning Adam’s heart?

  Meg: (Several seconds silence) I probably should say it’s very important. But to be honest, if Chrissy is more suited to him than I am then … (Shrugs) … so be it. What is important to me is finding someone who loves me, for me. If that happens here, if Adam turns out to be my perfect mate, great. If he doesn’t, I’ll keep looking.

  Evie: That’s a great attitude.

  (Indiscernible comments off-camera)

  Meg: You are such a flirt, Cam.

  (End interview)

  CHAPTER

  11

  Broome Retirement Village

  March 19

  Standing on the lawn, amid the lush tropical gardens surrounding the Broome Retirement Village, Evie couldn’t help feeling a little lost for words. So these were Adam’s girls. His shadowed references had her fertile mind envisaging cute young things in nurses’ uniforms that looked a whole lot like sexy French maids’ outfits, while these three women, lovely as they were, had to be in their late seventies. From conversations with Adam she was aware his mother must have had him late in life, but it still came as a bit of a shock.

  ‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet May, Hope and Lily.’ Adam’s grin was uncontainable. In turn, he gave each of the women a bear hug, lifting them off their feet to undignified squeals of delight.

  Adam’s mother, May, was a tiny woman in white slacks and a flowery top. Her faded blue eyes peered out from beneath salt-and-pepper hair cut sensibly short. Lily, wearing a navy skirt and white blouse, was short and portly, with eyes like currants and a thatch of snowy hair. Hope was a tall trim woman in a lilac pantsuit, silver-white hair elegantly upswept, intelligent eyes taking in the troupe of visitors. They all clearly adored Adam. Individually, they wore the look of proud parents, their fond gazes returning to fix on him again and again. Combined, they’d be a formidable tour de force, she thought wryly.

  Good luck, Meg. Watch out, Chrissy.

  As individual introductions were made, Evie found herself being studied by three sets of inscrutable eyes. It was disconcerting the way the women seemed focused on her, but they were effusive in their welcome.

  When the greetings were over, she took her laptop and a cuppa and set up beneath a leafy paperbark gum. With the morning sun shining in a brilliant blue sky, it was too perfect a day to hide herself away inside to get her work done. She sat back and inhaled the sea breeze, grateful for what promised to be a day of relative respite from the dramas of the farm.

  Waiting for the computer to fire up, she observed the eclectic group mingling on the lawn. Neil was barking instructions at Cam, who moved adeptly around the scene, capturing footage. Meg and Hope chatted amiably next to a trestle table laden with trays of lamingtons and fresh-baked scones, jugs of iced tea and accompanying tall glasses, and floral teacups with matching saucers. A nice touch. Apparently the Country Women’s Association had handled the catering to ensure the visiting television crew was suitably impressed with the town.

  All too predictably, Chrissy remained fixed to Adam’s side. The human limpet. Her pastel-blue, shoestring-strap sundress was surprisingly modest compared to her usual clothing choices. Obviously she was out to impress the prospective mother-in-law.

  Evie barely controlled a laugh as Lily’s short, plump form steamrollered between the two of them to isolate Chrissy for what looked like an intense bout of questioning. Judging by the speed with which Adam’s mother moved into the space created, the move had been pre-planned.

  The ensuing interaction between mother and son was lovely. Spreading her arms as wide as they’d go, May clasped Adam to her fiercely. When his arms wrapped around the tiny woman and he bent to kiss the top of her head, a delightful warmth saturated Evie’s body. Her heart swelled and her spirits instantly lifted at the tenderness of the gesture. She closed her eyes for a second, making no effort to suppress the feeling, and wondered how it would feel to be enfolded within those strong arms.

  Pretty bloody good, she imagined.

  As Adam and his mother talked, his quiet look of regard spoke volumes. How special it must be to know that someone held you so dear; he clearly adored this woman. Where else but from her could he have learned the respect and courtesy with which he treated women?

  All women. Even those who might not be as deserving of it as others. Evie looked around for Chrissy.

  Neil had her to one side, his back shielding her from the rest of the group, but Evie had an uninterrupted view of them both. Although she couldn’t hear a thing, their body language indicated a confidential conversation was taking place. The boss, mobile phone in hand, seemed to be explaining something with uncharacteristic patience; Chrissy’s eyes were riveted on his face. When she reached out and touched his arm, he let it rest there. They could be discussing the placement for her next shot, but somehow Evie didn’t think so.

  What was Chrissy angling for? Surely she wasn’t trying to wheedle Neil into letting her use his phone? Was there no one that woman wouldn’t use her feminine wiles on to get what she wanted?

  ‘Mind if we join you?’

  Evie jumped in her seat. Engrossed in the scene, she hadn’t noticed Hope guiding May across the lawn. She greeted the elderly women with a hasty smile. ‘Please do.’ She shut the laptop screen and when she looked back up Neil and Chrissy had gone their separate ways.

  May used a hand to feel for the seat of the filigreed metal chair before lowering her bird-like frame onto it. Adam had mentioned macular degeneration as the reason his mother had been forced to move here from the farm. It was a cruel disease; not quite blindness, but the loss of central vision had to be almost as incapacitating.

  Compensating for her missing areas of vision, she moved her head in a slow circle around Evie’s face. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, my dear,’ she said.

  Evie gulped involuntarily. ‘Me?’ Um, why?

  ‘Our boy has a lot of nice things to say about you,’ said Hope, seating herself next to her friend.

  Evie blinked in surprise. ‘He does?’ Why would he be talking about me?

  ‘His phone calls are full of how much he enjoys talking to you and what a wonderful listener you are,’ said May.

  Ah. Realisation struck. No chance yet to fill you in on what happened the other morning, then.

  ‘Well, I’m, er, happy he thinks I’m doing a good job.’ Does he still think that, after my treatment of him?

  ‘From everything he’s told us, you’re a lovely, caring person and we want you to know we’re grateful,’ added Hope.

  Evie shifted uneasily in her chair. Ouch. Talk about rubbing salt into the wound. She didn’t deserve their appreciation; not after what she’d done. The feeling of guilt was hard to shake.

  ‘You’ve raised a good man,’ she said in an attempt to turn the subject away from herself. ‘I can’t understand why he’s still single.’

  May took up the thread of the conversation. ‘It’s the isolation. There are very few young women and a lot of lonely farmers up here. They’re the reason shows like yours need to exist. It’s why we nominated Adam for Perfect Mate.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. He’s going to make the series a big hit.’

  ‘We had a devil of a time of it getting him to agree.’ There was a wealth of fondness in Hope’s tone. ‘Although that was nothing compared to his reaction when we decided he had to learn how to flirt. He bucked up something severe to begin with, didn’t he, May? Not that it did him an
y good,’ she added with tickled enjoyment.

  Evie spluttered into her tea. ‘I thought he was joking about taking lessons.’

  ‘It was fun, wasn’t it, May? By the end, I don’t know who was enjoying the practice sessions more, us or him.’ Her wrinkle-creased grey eyes twinkled. ‘I suspect it was us.’

  Evie succumbed to a fit of the giggles. ‘I wish I’d been there.’

  Hope chuckled along with her. ‘And I wish I’d been fifty years younger.’

  As if by mutual consent, all three women fixed their attention on the topic of discussion. For a guilty but oh-so-pleasurable moment, Evie took the time to observe Adam chatting with Meg and Lily. He wore a black button-up shirt with tapered jeans that emphasised his long, lean physique. One arm rested around Lily’s plump shoulders and his head was thrown back as he laughed at something Meg said. During their daily interviews, he was usually so reserved. It was good to see him like this—unselfconscious and clearly having a ball.

  Then, from nowhere, Chrissy appeared, insinuating herself between Meg and Adam. Meg rolled her eyes but Adam seemed to accept the interruption without batting an eyelid.

  Evie folded her arms across her chest. Honestly, didn’t the woman have any idea of rules of conduct in situations like this? The urge to interfere was strong but she fought it back, unable to decide whether a stick was big enough to beat the woman off, or if she should go for a broken-off tree branch.

  Beside her, Hope sighed. ‘Men can be so naive.’ Her aged eyes missed nothing, it seemed. ‘But when those rose-coloured glasses fall off, as they inevitably do, everything becomes clear, doesn’t it May?’ She looked to her friend and May nodded. ‘No hiding from the truth then.’

  All Evie could do was hope the elderly women were right—that any feelings Adam might be developing for Chrissy was simply a case of rose-coloured glasses. To some degree her own experience backed up what Hope had said. Until a year ago, she’d been silly enough to view life through a rosy tint, and when the glowing future she’d pictured with Nick came crashing down, a lot of realisations had fallen into place. Things that, in hindsight, made it so obvious the man was a womaniser; something everyone at the station except her seemed aware of.

  She’d been an idiot. But an idiot in love can’t be told.

  ‘It’ll work out.’ Hope patted her hand before rising to go. ‘I’ll leave you two to … talk.’

  What was with that hesitation? What could May possibly want to talk about alone? To hide her sudden apprehension, Evie studiously examined the empty teacup cradled in her hands.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see Adam enjoying life.’ The elderly woman’s voice was full to the brim with love. ‘He has such a good heart. He deserves his share of happiness.’

  ‘I could not agree more.’ The words emerged more vehemently than Evie intended. She gave herself a mental slap on the wrist; now was not the time to loosen up the hold she had on her feelings.

  If May noticed the lapse, she gave no indication. ‘I do have some worries though. Do you mind if I discuss them with you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Evie assured her, intrigued to hear what her concerns might be.

  ‘Adam’s never been in love. He’s never even had a serious relationship with a girl. Loneliness can lead to poor decision-making. I’m worried we may have thrown him in at the deep end.’

  ‘Adam will be fine. He knows how to swim.’ Evie met the worry in May’s eyes directly. ‘I’m sure he’ll make the right choice.’

  Hands under the table, she crossed both sets of fingers for luck. Sending her tacit moral support to Meg seemed appropriate. Although, to be honest, she’d have backed a cow if it was the only alternative to Chrissy.

  ‘He needs someone who can give him a home filled with love and laughter. And a family of his own. Children he can love for all he’s worth, to make up for the things he missed out on before he came to us.’

  What the…?

  ‘I’m not sure I understand. Is Adam adopted?’

  Wrinkles of concern feathered around the elderly woman’s milky-blue eyes. ‘I thought my age and the fact that my name is Stephens would have alerted you. I also assumed, obviously wrongly, that Adam would have mentioned I’m not his real mother.’

  ‘To be honest, it’s never come up. I presumed the different surname was because your late husband was his stepfather.’

  May shook her head. ‘When Larry and I found out we were unable to have children, we decided to take on fostering. Best thing we could ever have done. We had a lot of gorgeous kids over the years. Adam was our last. He came to us when he was six years old.’

  Was this the secret Adam had been at such pains to conceal? But why? What difference did it make to anything? How sad if he believed being a foster child made him somehow less worthy as a person.

  ‘I see.’ Evie scrambled for something to keep the conversation going. ‘So, um, is he from around here? Originally, I mean?’

  ‘No. We lived in Perth at the time. We moved up here when he was eight. My husband reckoned kids brought up in the sticks get a better start in life. Less emphasis on material things, good old-fashioned family values.’ The softness of fond memory came through in her voice.

  Evie nodded. ‘You’ve certainly instilled that in Adam. He’s a total gentleman.’

  May beamed. ‘He was a great kid. We would have loved to adopt him but because of our age—we were close to fifty by then—the powers that be wouldn’t allow it.’

  ‘His birth parents were no longer around?’

  Sadness fell like a shadow across her lined face. ‘Adam had already been in the system for two years, and placed with five other families, before we got him. We’ve never had any contact with his parents. Only read the records.’

  ‘I thought the system tried to maintain parental contact with a view to restoring families.’

  ‘It’d be nice to believe all any parent wants for their child is happiness. Unfortunately, that’s not always so.’

  Evie paused, momentarily halted by a memory of lying in bed, listening to her father entertaining guests in the dining room with stories starring Lulu. If he’d wished nothing but a happy life for both his girls, he would have stopped and thought before broadcasting to all and sundry the difference between them was that Lulu was the pretty daughter. His exact words. While he hadn’t used the word ‘disappointment’, it was obvious that’s what Evie was in his eyes. All the hurt and anger she had felt as a child came back in a rush. Tears threatened and her teeth sought her lower lip as she stifled a pathetic wave of self-pity.

  Deliberately slowing her breathing, she forced the memory behind her. ‘Sad but true,’ she agreed.

  May’s gaze took on a faraway look. ‘We did our best to make up for the rough start he had.’

  Evie studied her face as she spoke. Her skin was like fine tissue paper, textured with a network of lines that wreathed infinitely kind eyes and a stoic mouth. The affection and wisdom in her features reminded Evie of her beloved grandmother. Her mother’s mother. The one person whose advice she truly respected.

  Admiration for Adam’s mother welled inside her and she patted her hand. ‘I can see how much you love him.’

  ‘The bond we have is very special,’ May continued. ‘You know, it’s not a nine-month incubation that makes you a mother. It’s love.’

  That was another thing Evie could relate to. She had no memory of her mother, who’d died in a car accident when she was only two. But her stepmother, Sarah, had lavished her with love as if she was her own. Even when Lulu came along, a year after her father had remarried, there’d been no preferential treatment one way or the other. The love had been doubled, not shared, and Evie had grown up relishing the role of big sis—always taking her sibling’s side, listening to Lulu’s troubles, offering advice, confiding her own innermost thoughts and feelings. They’d been so close …

  Until the unthinkable had happened.

  Evie truly regretted having to constantly reject her stepmot
her’s attempts at reconciling the sisters, but some things were just too hard to forgive. She’d hardened her heart against Lulu for good reason. Trusting her sister with how she felt about Nick had been the biggest mistake of her life. She drew in a deep breath to ease the sudden tightness in her chest. Even after all this time the emotionally charged subject still had the power to generate a physical reaction. But now was not the time to dwell on it. She wrenched her mind back to more immediate concerns.

  May’s rheumy eyes were slowly scanning Evie’s face, her fine features creasing up in thought, multiplying the age-lines into accordion-like wrinkles. What was she thinking?

  ‘You’re a wonderful sounding board, Evie. I like that. It’s good for Adam.’ The elderly woman’s gnarled fingers weaved themselves through hers. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about his childhood.’ She inhaled a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘In fact, he’s never spoken about his life before he came to us.’ Her voice was full of genuine sadness.

  Operating on instinct, Evie stayed quiet, not wanting to distract May from where her thoughts were taking her. Piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of Adam’s life had suddenly become a compelling need.

  ‘We tried to give him a safe, loving childhood. But beneath the self-assurance there’s still a hurt little boy—’ May dragged in a breath, one hand pressed to her heart, ‘—with a deep, deep need for—’ She paused mid-sentence, a stricken look on her face, as if suddenly realising she’d said too much.

  A need for what? What!

  Not feeling nearly as calm as she hoped she appeared, Evie encouraged her with a slow nod and a smile of understanding. ‘It’s okay. Anything you tell me won’t go any further, I promise you. I’ve come to … like your son, very much.’ She disliked pressing May but she had to find out what it was Adam needed. ‘Helping people open up is what I’m good at and anything that will give me further insight into the way he thinks will help him too, in the long run.’

  For a long moment the elderly woman peered at her intently, her knotted hands twisting in her lap, before she relented. ‘He needs acceptance. Not just to be liked, but to be accepted for who he is. You see, he’d been branded a difficult child, and being shuffled between all those foster homes only added to his problems. Now, his memories and feelings about his past are hidden so deep he refuses to acknowledge their existence.’ Her voice began to quaver. ‘That’s not healthy. He needs to talk about it.’ She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head sadly.