by Fiona Palmer
Walking towards the rock, Sandi decided to take time to appreciate her surroundings. She really did love this farm. It had been her dream to continue running it after her dad died and with her older sister living in New Zealand with her family, she was more than happy to take it on with her dad’s workman. She’d only been twenty, and her mum had helped out until she met Paul and married. Then her mum got the travel bug and left them to the farm. Paul had come from a local farming family but his farm was shared between his two older brothers, so he was more than happy to leave them to it and join her. They really did have a great life. She’d always wanted to raise her kids on the family farm. Only now did she see the downside was sending them away to boarding school.
Sandi ran her hand over the shrubs as she walked and hoped that the supervisors now guiding her kids would do a good job. She hoped that her kids would retain the values she’d tried to instil in them. She hoped that they were respectful and used their manners. She hoped they would remember the difference between right and wrong and have the strength to say no. Even to their friends. It certainly was the hardest job out there, raising children, making sure that she had taught them enough to get them through life.
Her foot hit rock and she realised she’d made it already. She’d been so lost in her thoughts. So much for taking in her surroundings. As she got closer to the boulder that Gracie loved to sit on, Sandi noticed something different about Rocky. A heap of rocks had been shifted. Who had been here? What was going on?
She paused as she took in the sight. Someone had spelled out something with the smaller rocks. Sandi stepped closer, her hand flew to her mouth and her heart fluttered. She read, I love you Mum.
Tears formed and fell, Sandi was weeping. Gracie had left her a very special message. Who needed a text when you had this? How thoughtful. She must have done something right as a mother.
Wiping her eyes, she sat down next to the words, pulled out the flask and container of goodies from her small backpack and had herself a little picnic. Once the marshmallows and Tim Tams were gone, she pulled out her phone and sent Gracie a text and a photo of her beside the rock message. It said simply, I love you, too.
As she waited to see if she’d get a reply, Sandi studied the ground where Gracie had been picturing the Donkey Orchids. It really was a beautiful spot here in spring. The wattle flowers, combined with the other wildflowers, would fill the air with a sweet honey smell and the buzzing of bees would follow. As a little girl Sandi had collected wildflowers to press. She’d loved how pressing them could capture the colours, as if keeping the flower alive longer.
That was it! That’s what she could do for Gracie. She would press her some wildflowers and send them to her in cards. Oh, she would love that, Sandi was sure. In fact, when she got home she might just pull out all her card-making stuff and see what she could design in readiness for the flowers. Maybe she could produce a heap of Australian-themed cards to sell also, or just to use for friend’s birthdays. She’d really loved doing all that once. Maybe it was time to get into it again?
With a renewed sense of purpose, Sandi headed back to home with a spring in her step. But not before she took another photo of Gracie’s words, minus herself, to set on her phone as her wallpaper. When she was just about home a message came. Sandi couldn’t get it out of her pocket fast enough. And there it was. One from Gracie.
Happy Mothers’ Day, Mum. I’m glad u liked it xxx
All of a sudden today wasn’t so bad after all.
Sandi pushed on into the house with a growing feeling of excitement and she was so busy wondering where she’d put her card stuff that she didn’t notice the smell of coffee in the air until she was half-way down the passage. She stopped, sniffed the air again, and tried to figure out if someone was there.
‘Hello?’ she called out, heading towards the kitchen.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but it certainly wasn’t Paul standing there with a bunch of flowers and a silly grin on his face.
‘Happy Mothers’ Day, darling.’ He handed her the flowers and wrapped her up in a hug. He smelt like fresh-turned earth with a hint of grease.
‘What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be on the tractor?’
‘I’m on the last paddock, hon. It’s not going anywhere.’
‘Happy Mothers’ Day, MUM!!’ yelled familiar voices.
‘My kids.’ She tried to home in on their voices. Where were they?
She hadn’t noticed the iPad on the table, seeing as they could never afford such a splurge, but Paul now turned it to face her. There they were, Jack and Gracie on the iPad. Her hand flew to her mouth; it couldn’t stop the tears welling. She put the flowers down and picked up the iPad. ‘How? What?’ She looked from the kids to Paul.
‘We’re on Skype, Mum,’ said Jack.
‘It’s your first real Mothers’ Day present,’ Paul said with a knowing smile. ‘A way for you to see your kids more.’
‘Oh my God. Jack, Gracie. Oh, I miss you two.’ Sandi wanted to hug her husband to death but couldn’t let go of the iPad. This unexpected gesture was amazing.
‘We know, Mum,’ said Jack, rolling his eyes. He was still smiling.
‘Do you like the flowers?’ said Gracie.
Sandi didn’t want to take her eyes off her kids but she quickly glanced at the flowers. ‘Yes, I do. They’re gorgeous.’
‘Cool. I was worried Dad would choose ugly flowers,’ she said laughing.
‘Hey, I used to give your mum flowers all the time,’ said Paul. ‘I know how they’re supposed to look.’
Gracie giggled again. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
Sandi glanced at Paul. ‘So you’ve been setting this up with the kids?’
‘I do know how a mobile phone works. And, with the kids’ help, I’m getting good at this texting business. Not much else to do when you’re stuck on a tractor,’ he said with a wink. ‘Gracie did have to remind me that it was Mothers’ Day, though,’ he added sheepishly. ‘And Jack helped sort out the iPad and this Skype thingy. I had to agree with them, this seemed like the perfect gift.’
‘It is perfect. Thank you.’ Sandi reached out and squeezed his hand.
‘Here, love.’ Paul passed her a coffee while the kids began telling her about their day.
A moment later she looked up and realised Paul was making and packing his own silverside sandwich. Her heart melted just a little more.
Sandi chatted with her kids until she could tell they were eager to go. Jack had mates waiting to kick the football and Gracie was off to watch a movie in the rec room with her friends.
‘Bye, Mum,’ said Jack with half a wave.
‘Have a great day, Mum. Miss you,’ said Gracie, before they disconnected.
Sandi stood staring at the screen for a while, half hoping they would come back.
‘Don’t worry, the next holidays will be here before you know it,’ said Paul, as he finished wrapping his sandwich.
‘I know. But it’s so quiet.’
Paul moved around to her and pulled her into his arms. ‘I can fix that,’ he teased.
Sandi rested her head on his shoulder and felt wonderful in Paul’s tight embrace. He nudged her neck with his rough stubble, which tickled, causing her to shiver. He kissed her neck and she realised how much she’d missed this. Paul pulled back so he could see her eyes. With a finger he shifted one of her dark curls to the side of her oval face.
‘I know I’ve been a little crazy lately but seeding is almost over. And I know you haven’t been enjoying it here without the kids but love, they will always come back. You raised them well and they adore you. Just as much as I do.’
Sandi looked up and touched her husband’s face. ‘I do believe that’s the most wonderful thing you’ve said in ages,’ she teased, and was glad to see he liked her teasing.
‘And I’m not finished yet.’ He held her hand against his face. ‘Do you hear that?’ he said.
There was nothing but the hum from the fridge. ‘N
o?’
‘That is a quiet house, which we have all to ourselves. No interruptions: no sports, no homework, no fights. Sandi, this is our time now. Don’t you agree?’
As he bent to kiss her again, emotions and feelings that had been lying dormant within her came flooding back. She hadn’t ever stopped loving Paul, life had just got too busy. But maybe he was right. Without the kids, maybe they could focus back on themselves again. They could have romantic dinners or sunset walks.
Paul lifted her off her feet and squeezed her closer, stirring up the fire in her lower belly. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 1
The screeching of galahs in the early morning sounded like church hymns. To Maggie, nothing made her feel closer to God than this moment in the dawn. The air was fresher, the light soft and glowing as if filtering through stained glass, and the sounds of the birds assured her that she was alive. The scent of rosemary, basil and wild lavender wafted on the breeze.
Maggie was happiest in her garden. It was her little wonderland, although there was really nothing small about it: the pumpkins and watermelons sprawled out beyond the rabbit fence. She bent over to squeeze some of the basil, releasing a burst of scent. Her back groaned slightly as she stood up and stretched it. At seventy-two, she had no complaints except a tired body.
A smile tugged at her lips as she admired the tomato plants, growing so well. She’d have to get Toni to truss them up soon. Before long they’d be making their own sundried tomatoes. Eating fresh from the land was one of life’s pleasures for Maggie. If the world fell apart tomorrow, they’d survive, just as they always had. They were three generations of women who had lived off their own land. It was just the three of them, too, Maggie, Toni and Flick – the Sunnyvale girls. They would thrive on what they grew, and on how they supported each other. Wasn’t that what family was all about?
Tending the garden daily, watching it all flourish, also made Maggie feel closer to Rocco. His memory came to her more frequently than ever when she was in the garden. After all, through his gentle nurturing, he was the one who had opened her eyes to the magic of growing your own produce. How different life would have been if the war hadn’t made it all the way out here, to their remote farm.
Maggie always greeted her day with time in the garden. It was her own special ritual. Toni, her daughter, would be at the sheds, already elbow deep in farm work, while her granddaughter, Flick, was off to see the sun rise with her beloved horse in her own favourite place. All three of them belonged on this farm, entwined in Sunnyvale’s earth like the deep roots of the gumtrees, and their spirits hovered over it protectively like wedge-tailed eagles. Maggie had been born on this farm and it was here she hoped to see out the rest of her life.
Felicity Stewart held her breath as the sun rose from the horizon. Golden light brushed the tops of the pale grass in the pasture paddock before her. The crisp morning air stung her cheeks but she refused to move. Even Contractor stood firm beneath her, snorting his breath into the cold air and shaking his mane as if also impressed with the dawn. Flick leant forward and rubbed his neck. The combined scent of Contractor and his leather saddle was her favourite smell in the world, and it made this moment perfect.
‘It’s always worth it, hey, boy.’
His body trembled beneath her, knowing that with the sun now up, their time here was coming to an end. But Flick wasn’t quite ready for work. Last night’s events still haunted her, her mind was in turmoil. She wasn’t sure if she should approach Chad about what she’d seen last night or not. He was coming out to the farm today anyway, so maybe she’d just wait and see.
‘Time to do some work,’ she said, more to herself, but the dog beside them barked. ‘Oh, I know, Fella. You’re always ready for work.’
Fella looked up at her, tail wagging and eyes sparkling with mischief. He was a Red Cloud kelpie and had short brown fur – it was a colour he shared with Contractor, although Contractor had a big white blaze down his nose and white socks on his back legs. Her boys were a perfect pair, her best mates, and the ones who could read her moods better than her own mum. Their worker, Jimmy, had a dog too, Gypsy. She was Fella’s sister. Both were only two years old and still just pups.
Flick clicked her tongue and nudged Contractor on his way. With one hand on her hip and the other on the reins, she glanced back at the sun. In such a short time the magic of the sunrise and all its amazing colours had nearly gone, leaving just the sun brightening a new, long day. As a twenty-year-old, she’d already seen many sunrises but to her eyes they still got bigger and better every day.
Contractor broke into a gallop, knowing they were headed back home and towards breakfast. Fella’s lean body stretched out in full stride alongside them, his tongue flapping in rhythm with his strides. Flick leant forward in the saddle. ‘Come on, boy.’ The wind against her face was glorious and she felt safe on Contractor’s strong, powerful body. Her mum preferred the Honda motorbike, but Flick loved the strength of her horse and the fact that he would protect her. A bike would never go back to the house for help, no matter what her mum had to say about the benefits of her Honda. But then again, her mum, Toni, had always been a hard arse.
As the farmhouse came into view, Flick dropped Contractor back to a walk. Fella was racing to catch up, breathing heavily but tail still wagging madly.
Next to the house at the veggie patch Flick spotted Maggie’s plump bum as she bent over her herbs. The Stewarts were known throughout the district for having a thriving vegetable garden. Nan was always giving away armloads of produce to anyone who visited. You name it, they grew it. Olive trees, smaller than the huge ones over by the old house, edged the garden. Every year they bottled up jars and jars of olives. People put in orders for them, and for good reason. They were delicious!
‘Morning, Nan,’ Flick said as she approached.
Maggie stood up. She was wearing her favourite apron. It was faded blue gingham with a white pocket at the front, where she tucked her pair of scissors. She picked up the basil and parsley she’d just snipped.
‘Hello, my darling. How was the sunrise this morning?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely glorious. I saw the wedge-tailed eagle back by its nest. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on the lambs in that paddock.’
Maggie nodded. Her face was wrinkled and dotted with age spots, her soft grey hair pulled back into a neat, practical bun. She was fine-boned and petite, with the exception of her rear end. Maggie said her backside was her storage tank in case the Depression ever hit again.
Flick could see the traces of her Nan’s beauty and the proof was in the old photos. She’d been a stunner in her day and Grandad had always said he was the luckiest man alive the day she married him. Grandad had lost the use of his legs after a farming accident long before Flick was born, so he was either in his wheelchair, on the motorbike or in the converted ute. Never did he walk the farm with them or stroll through the crops of an evening.
‘Hurry up and put Contractor away. I’ll have brekkie ready in a few minutes. And if you see Jimmy in your travels, can you let him know please?’
‘Sure, Nan.’
Flick headed towards the horse shed and locked him away. ‘There you go,’ she said, handing him his wide plastic bucket of mixed feed. Flick kissed his long nose, put the saddle away, and ran back to the house. Fella ran beside her, glancing up excitedly as if to ask, ‘What are we chasing?’ Fella was clearly disappointed when they got to the verandah and Flick pulled off her boots. No boots meant no play. His head dropped as he flopped down beside them. Knowing that she never worked without her boots, Fella practically sat on them now. He wouldn’t be left behind this way.
Flick couldn’t resist his gorgeous face and scratched his ears.
‘You’re a sook, Fella,’ came a voice over her shoulder. Jimmy strode onto the verandah followed by an energetic Gypsy. Instantly, Fella leapt up and nipped at Gypsy’s ear. Then they sprang around, jumping at each other, playing.
‘Mad as cut snakes, those two,’ said Jimmy, his hands on his hips. At forty-four, Jimmy was still fit and handsome. His blond hair was trimmed short and his jade-green eyes changed intensity in the light, but James Painter had always been Jimmy to her. He’d worked on the farm for nearly four years, ever since Grandad passed away. Jimmy wasn’t just their worker any more. He was more like family now and the only father figure, besides her grandad, that she was ever likely to have.
‘Bit like us two,’ said Flick, and launched herself at Jimmy as he bent over to take off his boots. Flick tried to put him in a headlock but he stood up, lifting her off the ground. She squirmed as he threw her over his shoulder. Fella and Gypsy paused to watch them.
The screen door snapped open. ‘Knock it off, you two. Mum’s inside waiting.’ Toni was always such a stern woman, her skin tanned from all the outside work, and her body lean and strong. Her hair was short, almost pixie-like, and was streaked with grey. If it wasn’t for the beautiful hourglass figure that filled out her jeans and stretched her shirts across the chest, she’d fit right in with the men in the yards.
Toni’s stormy dark-brown eyes gave a look of impatience, and Jimmy set Flick down quickly. He straightened his shirt, gave Flick a wink and squeezed past Toni. At least Toni cracked a smile.
‘Come on. Nan’s made us omelettes.’ Toni turned and they both headed inside the homestead. It had a verandah on three sides and a big patio out the back, but if you asked Flick, the house lacked character. She had always preferred the old house in the gimlet trees further down towards the back paddock, with its jarrah floorboards and high ceilings. But she’d grown up in this house so it was home. It had its own quirks: like the toilet door that didn’t shut, the cracks in the lounge room walls that opened and closed with the seasons, and the buckshot holes in the pantry from the time that Nan tried to shoot a snake that snuck inside. And there were wider doorways and ramps instead of steps, which had been put in for Grandad.