McKellan's Run

by Nicole Hurley-Moore

Well, she was going to do the right thing and trust him or at least try. The key was to take everything slowly. She’d been too quick to fall under his spell. She wanted time to take a step back and try to get her head together. Maybe after a few months they could think about going out.

  Violet tried to ignore the burning ache he’d aroused inside her when she was in his arms. If this was going to work, she needed to rein in her lust and try and build a friendship and then if she was lucky, a relationship. She needed this time, and if Mac wanted to be with her, she just hoped she could get him to see that this was the right course of action.

  Violet swung her car into the drive to McKellan’s Run. A frown flickered over her face when she reached the house and realised his ute wasn’t parked out the front. Maybe he was up at the shearing shed.

  She kept driving past the house until she reached the track which led past the big shed. After a few minutes she crested a gentle hill and could see the shearing shed sitting in the middle of the eastern paddock. The sky was blue with a few thin streaky-looking clouds and the pasture in the paddock was a vivid green. The old wooden shearing shed had a bygone charm about it and it was surrounded by several holding pens, one which was full of woolly sheep.

  As she drew closer she could see Mac’s ute among several cars parked near the shed. Violet stopped the car as she drove up to the long metal gate on the edge of the paddock, jumped out, unlatched the gate and then swung it open.

  Violet walked back to her car but paused for a second as a breeze from the far hills blew over her. She brought her hand up and shaded her eyes against the sun as she took a moment to take in the beauty of McKellan’s Run. Tipping her head back, Violet watched as an eagle dipped and soared above her. There was a magnificence about this land she’d forgotten. She’d been so caught up with moving back here, trying to start her business and the stress of this wretched wedding she’d forgotten to stop for a moment or two and just allow herself to be in the landscape.

  With one more glance at the distant rolling hills, Violet slipped back in her car, drove into the paddock and got out, shutting the gate behind her. She toyed with the idea of leaving the car where it was and walking the rest of the way. Now that she was in the sunshine, she was loathe to leave it but she still had to make peace with Mac, and then get on with the dozens of things she had to do for the wedding before picking up Holly.

  Her car bumped along the track to the shearing shed and just as she was pulling up outside, Mac appeared in the doorway. Violet dragged in a breath as she watched him head over to her. Funny, it wasn’t until this second that she realised just how nervous she was.

  ‘Violet, what are you doing here?’ he asked.

  She scrambled out of the car and gave him a nervous smile.

  ‘I know you’re busy with shearing but I think we should talk.’

  Mac was silent, a frown creasing his brow, his arms folded over his chest.

  As each second ticked by everything about this meeting felt more and more awkward. There was a barrier between them, it was as if a great sheet of glass was separating Violet from Mac. It was so tangible, she thought, that if she stretched out her hand an invisible force would repel it.

  ‘We need to clear the air between us,’ Violet said.

  ‘Okay,’ said Mac, arms still folded.

  God, he wasn’t going to make this easy.

  ‘I think I was wrong about what I said. I like you, Mac. I really do.’

  ‘Like? Jesus, Violet,’ he said.

  Yeah, this was going really well.

  ‘As I said, I like you Mac,’ said Violet, and looked down at the ground. ‘I buried myself in my job and raising Holly. I’m not very good at trying to sustain any sort of romantic relationship. I mean, what I’m trying to say and not doing a very good job at it is that I’d like to try.’

  Mac remained silent, waiting.

  ‘All I wanted you to know is that I’d like to try for us to be together,’ said Violet.

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ said Mac.

  The barrier started to melt and Violet sent up a silent prayer.

  ‘But I think we need to take it slow; you don’t mind do you?’

  ‘Nope, I don’t mind at all. I want you in my life, Violet, and I’m willing to wait. That is, if you promise to get that crazy idea out of your head.’

  ‘What idea?’

  ‘The one about you thinking that I want to be with you out of some sort of obligation, because it’s not true.’

  Violet gave a nod. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I mean it. I want you for you and not out of some misplaced sense of duty. I want you, Violet, and I sure as hell don’t want to be just your friend.’

  ‘I understand, Mac.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Mac.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said as she leaned on the car next to him. ‘So you don’t mind us slowing down? I need to get this wedding out of the way and my business established as well as easing Holly into the idea of introducing someone else into our little world. I was thinking that after I’ve done all that then we could start spending more time together.’

  ‘But why do we need to wait?’ asked Mac.

  ‘Mac, it’s just with the business, moving back here, trying to plan this wedding, I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other for a while.’

  ‘I don’t care about rumours. In this town there’s always gossip. This is about you, me and Holly. Everyone else can take a long walk off a short pier as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘I, yes, I know but still—’

  ‘I said I’d wait but not having any contact for a while is a bit hard to swallow. What are you thinking?’

  ‘That I need time to sort myself out.’

  ‘But for how long—weeks, months? I’ll do it, I’ll wait, but is this about sorting yourself out or about the fact that you can’t bring yourself to trust me?’

  ‘No, that’s not it.’

  ‘Then why? Come on, Violet, why would you want me to walk away?’

  ‘Because of all the reasons I mentioned. Because I need time to come to terms with . . .’

  ‘I’m not Jason!’

  ‘I never said you were.’

  ‘But that’s what you think deep down, isn’t it? That maybe you can’t trust me with your heart or with Holly because one day I’ll hurt you, just like my brother did.’

  ‘That’s not fair, Mac.’

  ‘Isn’t it? That’s what’s at the bottom of this whole thing. You can’t bring yourself to trust me. I said I’d wait and be patient but will you ever be ready to take the next step? Will I have to wait another eight years?’

  ‘This was a mistake,’ Violet said as she spun away and jerked open the car door.

  ‘Violet, don’t walk away.’

  She slid into the car seat. ‘Why not, Mac—isn’t that what I do best?’ Violet turned on the ignition and without another glance, she drove away.

  Chapter 19

  Mac watched Violet drive off, her little car bumping along the track, tearing up dirt and turf as she went. He walked past the full holding pens in an attempt to get his head together, the sheep bleating as he passed.

  He headed towards a copse of trees on the far side of the paddock. He needed a few minutes to calm down and work out what the hell just happened.

  Mac leant against the nearest tree and stared unseeing off into the distance.

  He had the right to ask Violet how long he was expected to wait, didn’t he? It wasn’t an unreasonable request, was it? But deep down he knew what was rankling him and it wasn’t to do with the waiting but rather the lack of trust. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life knowing that every time he put a foot wrong, Violet would instantly jump to the worst-case scenario and compare him with Jason.

  He had to admit he hadn’t handled the situation very well. He knew he should have backed off and tried to approach the subject in a calmer manner but the words had kept tumbling out of his mouth.

  Mac blew out a long breath. The
whole thing was a complete and utter screw-up.

  He spent the rest of the day at the shearing shed, working alongside the sheep handlers, tossing the freshly shorn fleece on the wool table and then skirting it, which was pulling the dirty wool from certain sections of the fleece.

  The shed was filled with sheep handlers, or rousties as they were called, four shearers and a wool classer. The work was quick and back-breaking. Normally, Mac would hire his crew and just check in every now and then to help out when needed. But this time it was different, he needed to immerse himself in work to take his mind off Violet.

  The buzz of the electric shears filled the shed, along with the bleating of the sheep. The scent of lanolin hung in the air and it was good to feel the wool, his wool, between his fingers. But it didn’t seem to matter how fast he worked, he just couldn’t get Violet out of his mind.

  Mac rolled his shoulders as the shed wound down for the day.

  ‘If you’re alright, I’m going to head off now.’

  ‘No worries, Mac,’ one of the shearers called out. ‘Hey, you make a pretty good roustabout. If you ever want to give up McKellan’s Run, I just might hire you.’

  Mac shook his head and grinned as the shed filled with laughter.

  ‘Thanks, Jack, I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘You do that.’

  Mac made his way to the door. ‘Thanks everyone for your hard work today. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He gave a brief wave to the chorus of goodbyes and let out a whistle as he walked over to his ute. ‘Come on Razor, let’s go and see what Flynn’s up to,’ he said as he opened the car door and waited for the dog to jump in. ‘Maybe if I drink enough I can get her out of my head, just for tonight anyway.’

  The sun filtered through the peppercorn tree as the cool breeze blew in from the south. Violet sat in her sheltered garden and looked down the winding path towards the peach trees at the back. She smiled as she remembered picking the peaches with her grandmother and Lily. She’d always been so impatient, waiting for the fruit to ripen and then biting into the soft white flesh, the sweet juice running down her fingers. Each mouthful tasting of summer.

  She missed those days and she missed her grandmother. Today, the garden didn’t seem complete without her. Life had been gentler when Stella Beckett had been alive. She’d tempered her husband’s strict and overpowering nature and given desperately needed love to her two granddaughters. Things had changed after her death. Their grandfather had become harder and more embittered.

  The warbling song of a magpie caught Violet’s attention, dragging her out from the shadows of the past. She took a sip of her coffee. It was time to let the past go, not just for her own sake but also for Holly’s. Holly was her future and so was Mac, if she let him.

  Violet frowned. She hadn’t realised how much she’d come to look forward to seeing Mac every day. Like a drug, her dependency had grown; she told herself she was in control but that was a lie. It had been three days since she’d seen him; three days since they’d fought and he’d turned away. Her body hurt, there was a deep ache inside as if she’d lost a piece of herself.

  The more she thought about it, the more she started to believe she’d been wrong. He’d said he cared for her and wanted a future with her and Holly. The look in his eyes told her this was more than just a man doing the honourable thing. He wanted her for herself, not because his brother had thrown her away. She’d seen it and yet she’d pushed him away. Why?

  Because she was scared. Terrified to open herself up and let Mac’s love in. She didn’t want to admit it, but the break-up with Jason had shattered her to the core. And what scared her to death was the thought that history would repeat itself. But that wasn’t fair to Mac, as he was twice the man his brother was.

  Taking a chance and opening herself up again was proving harder than she thought. In the back of her mind was the taunting voice reminding her it wasn’t going to work and Mac would let her down just like Jason. Violet sighed, as she placed her cup back on the small metal table.

  Not that it mattered, as there was a good chance Mac would never want to see her again.

  Hell, how had she managed to screw everything up?

  She needed to make it right and the only way to do that was to find him and make him listen to what she had to say.

  Mac dropped back a gear as he drove up the winding track that led to the Grange. This was the third evening he’d headed over to Flynn’s house after a hard day’s shearing and each time he’d got drunk enough to stay the night. He needed to get himself together. He stopped and looked up at the Grange, trying to calm himself. The house sat on a hill that overlooked a mix of bush and green pastures. The land at the back of the house fell away into a deep gully with the rushing Landoc’s Creek snaking its way through the centre.

  The Grange was a two-storey stone house that dated back to the 1880s but it had fallen into disrepair until only the shell had remained. When Flynn inherited the land, he had spent a heap of money and most of his free time restoring the old building. The effect was breathtaking, the Grange was now a fusion of Victorian and modern architecture and stood as a testament to Flynn’s sheer determination.

  As Mac pulled up he saw a little red sports car parked beneath the peppercorn tree on the far side of the house. Flynn clearly had company tonight.

  Mac sat back in his seat and pondered for a moment as the ute idled.

  ‘You know, Razor, we should go, ’cos it looks as if Flynn is otherwise occupied.’

  The little dog tilted his head and looked at Mac adoringly.

  ‘But where’s the fun in that?’

  Razor’s tail thumped against the seat.

  ‘You like that idea?’ he asked as he gave the dog a pat. ‘Me too.’

  Mac switched off the engine, got out and held the door open. ‘Come on boy, let’s go and ruin Flynn’s evening.’ He grabbed the beer from the back of the ute and sauntered his way to the door at the back of the house.

  ‘So what’s up?’ Flynn asked, pulling a t-shirt over his head just as Mac walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Nothing, I just thought we could have a few beers again tonight,’ said Mac holding up the half-dozen stubbies.

  ‘Sure, but you’re going to have to give me a minute,’ Flynn said as he turned and started to walk into the lounge room.

  ‘Listen, if I’ve caught you in the middle of something . . .’

  Flynn turned around and gave him a grin. ‘Let’s just say you almost caught me in the middle of something. But that’s okay, grab a seat and I’ll be back.’

  Mac dropped onto the old leather couch and watched as Flynn disappeared through the far door. He turned back and stared out to the eucalypts on the far side of the gully. Three sides of the Grange were the original Victorian walls but the entire back of the house was made of steel and glass, which brought the outside in and filled the rooms with an abundance of light.

  Somewhere above him Mac could hear the undercurrent of an annoyed female voice, which he recognised as belonging to Charlotte Somerville. Charlotte was the self-proclaimed princess of Violet Falls, as her father was the current mayor. The family were rich blow-ins who’d only settled here about fifteen years ago. There was no denying Charlotte was attractive, from her pretty face to her long legs. But Mac had always thought she was spoilt and would be high maintenance and too much trouble to bother pursuing. Obviously, Flynn didn’t feel the same.

  The sound of high heels clicking down the stairs filled the silence of the house. Mac heard Charlotte make her way across the slate floor of the foyer. The front door creaked open and was then slammed shut, the force reverberating through the building. Charlotte wasn’t happy.

  A few seconds later Flynn reappeared. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said with a sheepish grin.

  ‘I saw her car. I shouldn’t have come in,’ Mac admitted.

  Flynn shrugged. ‘No big deal. Charlotte and I have an understanding.’

  ‘What? Are you together?’<
br />
  Flynn let out a laugh. ‘Fuck no! We’re convenient; when neither of us has anything else going on we tend to gravitate towards each other. We have a drink, and a laugh and some fun. No strings.’

  ‘You’ve never been in love, have you?’ said Mac, his expression suddenly serious.

  Flynn snagged a beer and sank down into the couch next to him. ‘No,’ he said, laughter in his voice. ‘God, why would I? I mean things are just fine as they are.’

  ‘You have a good time.’

  ‘Abso-fucking-lutely. Why try and change something that’s already perfect?’

  Mac took another swig of beer. ‘I suppose not. It’s just . . .’

  ‘What, not as deep and meaningful as what you feel about Violet? I know you’re in a bad way,’ said Flynn as he leant over and rapped Mac on the head. ‘She messes with that. I’ve never seen you drink so much as in these past few days.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Mac pulled back.

  ‘Admit it, Violet has you whipped.’

  ‘Maybe I like it that way. Besides she’s the only one I ever think of . . . or want.’

  ‘Then what the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s complicated. I just think we’re moving forward and then she slams on the brakes.’

  ‘Is she scared of something?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Then you’d better figure out what it is or move on.’

  ‘No, moving on isn’t an option. I love her.’

  Flynn tipped back the stubby and took another drink before turning to Mac and grinning. ‘Just like I said, whipped.’

  Chapter 20

  Something was shaking his shoulder. Mac groaned and tried to open his eyes.

  ‘Come on Mac, it’s almost six.’

  Mac pushed himself into a sitting position. He’d ended up on Flynn’s couch yet again.

  He raised his head and stared blearily at Flynn who was grinning stupidly at him. ‘How can you be so fucking cheerful?’

  ‘Well, you’re a grumpy bum aren’t you?’ Flynn’s grin somehow got wider.

  ‘Grumpy bum, seriously? You’re an idiot.’