*
When Tom had suggested they milk cows, Emma hadn’t pictured herself trying to avoid slipping on wet mud and manure-splattered concrete. She’d envisioned sitting calmly in a cozy barn filled with sweet-smelling straw, propped on a stool with a cow and bucket in front of her. As she learned, that was about the furthest thing from the actual milking process. Her romanticized view of farm life, and cows, dissolved after the first five minutes.
It was close to nine o’clock by the time they’d finished hosing and sweeping out the yards and the cows had been returned to the paddock. They’d worked well together and Emma had been pleased when Tom praised her for being a quick learner. As it turned out, he had needed her help, as one of the regular milkers was off sick.
“Want to join me for breakfast?” Tom asked when her stomach growled loudly.
She clamped her hands over her belly as it grumbled again. It was an easy decision. She was famished. “Deal.”
She followed Tom to his place behind the stables on autopilot. After kicking off her muddy gumboots she brushed past him through the front door, screwing up her nose in disgust.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said, punching her lightly on the arm. “You don’t exactly smell like roses either.”
Emma lifted her jumper to her nose, sniffed deeply and gagged. “I smell like crap.”
“Hop in the shower while I turn the heater on and get something ready for us to eat.”
Emma looked dismally down at her dirty jeans. They were stained in mud and cow dung. “You should have warned me I’d need a change of clothes.”
“Take them off and I’ll run them through the washing machine with mine. I’ll grab you a shirt and some sweatpants to put on after your shower.”
She swallowed. Now that they were back inside and her body was slowly warming up, every pore was suddenly wide-awake again and aware of his nearness.
He pointed to the bathroom. “Chuck your clothes out the door when you’re undressed.”
Inside the bathroom she quickly stripped. Opening the door a crack, she threw her stinking clothes on the floor and shut the door, this time turning the lock. She cranked up the hot water and stepped under the steaming flow.
Ten minutes later she stepped out of the shower smelling of Tom’s body wash. Wrapping herself in an oversized bath towel, she checked herself in the mirror. Her legs were bare, but the towel was long and covered her backside. Not surprisingly, there was no hairdryer hiding under the sink, so she fluffed her hair with her fingers and let it fall loose and long down her back.
Tom had left one of his checked flannel shirts hanging on the door handle. A pair of gray sweatpants sat neatly folded on the floor. They were going to swim on her but she grabbed the clean clothes gratefully and ducked back into the bathroom. She buttoned up the shirt, glad it was large enough it skimmed rather than outlined the shape of her body. The soft material was warm against her skin and smelled of Tom’s aftershave. The tracksuit pants were so long she had to roll them up four times and yet they still dragged on the floor. She must look like a kid playing dress-ups, but at least she was warm and smelled clean.
Back in the living room there was no sign of Tom, or her dirty clothes. She stood in front of the heater, warming her hands. His bedroom door was open and she forced her eyes away from the inviting pile of pillows that adorned his timber sleigh bed. She was exhausted but she supposed getting up hours before the birds and doing manual labor would do that.
“Looking good.”
Emma spun around so fast she nearly tripped over.
He stepped over and tweaked the collar of the shirt, straightening it, and catching her loose hair in his hand. He inhaled deeply. “And you smell good too.”
“The shirt’s a little big.”
“It looks perfect.”
She let out a little laugh, flustered by his compliments. She wasn’t imagining it. An undercurrent of suggestiveness draped every word and action.
His eyes darkened as he leaned closer. “I wouldn’t have thought seeing you in my clothes would be so sexy.”
Her heart almost stopped when his finger grazed the sensitive skin at her neck. His hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed once, twice. She cleared her throat and tried to swallow. If only he would kiss her.
The microwave pinged and he dropped his hand. Disappointment surged through her.
“I hope you like porridge.”
She scrunched up her nose. “To be honest, I’m not a fan.”
He removed a large bowl from the microwave and stirred it before adding a dash of milk and stirring it again.
“You haven’t tried my porridge. I’ll make it sweet and I promise you’ll love it.” He drizzled honey onto the hot oats and added a spoonful of sugar and another dash of milk. “Straight from the cows we milked this morning,” he said. “Here, try this.” He held the spoon out for her, but when she went to take it, he shook his head. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.
She obeyed, closing her lips slowly around the spoon. She kept her eyes on his and knew she wasn’t misreading anything. A shiver of anticipation raced through her.
“That’s amazing,” she whispered.
“I told you it would be.”
She swallowed another mouthful.
“Are you glad you came out here now?”
She nodded, lost for words.
His eyes darkened before he hurriedly dropped the spoon in the bowl and stood. “I need a shower. Don’t move.”
She had no intention of going anywhere.
Chapter 16
Five minutes later Tom returned, showered, dressed and smelling of the same fruity fragrance she’d lathered over her own body less than half an hour earlier. He wore a matching flannel shirt to the one he’d given her, and a pair of denim jeans. His feet were bare.
While she washed her porridge bowl, tidied the small kitchen and made them both cups of tea, Tom stoked the little potbelly stove. When he was satisfied with his efforts, he sprawled on the couch and patted the cushions next to him.
“Come and join me.”
Despite the cozy warmth that infused the room, Emma’s skin tingled and she shivered.
“Are you still cold? I can get you some socks.”
She shook her head. No. She wasn’t cold. She was just acutely aware of his presence.
He pulled a thick blanket from the back of the couch and handed it to her as she sat beside him. “Here, put this around you. Your clothes won’t take much longer in the machine then I’ll throw them in the dryer.” He checked his watch. “We’ve got at least an hour. Hope you didn’t have to be anywhere today.”
She shook her head. “It’s my day off. No plans.”
No plans other than the immediate one which was to snuggle closer to him on the couch.
He softly blew on his hot tea while his blue eyes bored into hers. “Good, because I have something special planned for later.”
She grabbed a throw cushion and hugged it to her chest. Images of them together swirled and she shook her head. She had one thing on her mind and it had to stop. He might not be planning the same things she was. He sat so close she was having trouble keeping her thoughts straight and her hands off him. If he didn’t make his move soon, she would, because her entire body ached for him.
He checked his watch. “While we wait for your clothes, why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve been doing for the last ten years since school?”
Like the screeching of a needle across an old vinyl record, Emma’s good mood was instantly broken. She stiffened, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. She drew a deep breath. Should I see if he remembers that night? No, not yet. She’d stick to the basic facts.
“After you left Birrangulla at the end of year twelve to go to Sydney with your mum, I finished school. I had no idea what to do next so I bummed around for a few years, mostly working at the Bean Counter with Joel. Kate encouraged me to do nursing and that’s where I met Lleyton. He’d failed first year med
icine at Melbourne University – badly – and they kicked him out of the course. He didn’t tell anyone, because his father would have killed him. Instead, he transferred to Bathurst to do an undergraduate degree. We met in a bar during orientation week at the start of my final year.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” she replied, recalling how drunk Lleyton had been that night when they got together. A rebound relationship for them both. “At the end of the year Lleyton applied to swap back into medicine at Melbourne and was accepted. By then we were an inseparable item and everyone assumed we’d get married. I got a graduate nurse position at the Royal Melbourne Hospital and shifted down there. I moved into his house in Kew on January first and we got married a month later. Two hundred and fifty guests – most of whom I didn’t know – in a marquee at a winery on the Mornington Peninsula.” She grimaced. “I’m never doing that again.”
To the less-than-knowing eye, it had been the perfect wedding, but Emma had limped through the day like an apparition, viewing the whole ceremony as if from above.
“You said he had a car accident. What happened?”
She gave him the details. “I was at work and had no idea it was him until they called me over to help.”
“That must have been unbearable. Did he die straight away?”
“No. They moved him into intensive care, but he only lasted another forty-eight hours. He had massive head injuries, plus internal injuries. If he’d survived he might have been a quadriplegic. Or worse. Most likely he would have had a brain injury. They told me pretty much right from the beginning that he was unlikely to make it.”
“Do you miss him?” Tom asked, eyes full of sympathy.
Emma hesitated. If she and Tom were going to have any sort of future together – even a close friendship – their relationship needed to be founded on honesty and truth.
She sucked in a deep breath. “We were actually separated when he died. I’d filed for divorce.”
Tom’s eyebrows shot up and he sat forward. “What? Why?”
Emma chewed her lip and debated how much more to admit. Did Tom need to know the details?
“Lleyton had an affair.” The words came out before she could think twice.
Tom’s mouth hung open in disbelief. He placed his coffee cup on the table and clasped her cold hands in his. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
Emma grimaced. “No. But that’s not the whole story. I’ve never told a soul about this, so please keep this between us.”
Other than the popping of the fire in the stove, there was silence as Tom waited for her to continue.
“Lleyton was gay,” she said finally, her voice quavering slightly.
Tom sat back in his chair, digesting that piece of information. “I presume the affair was …”
“With another man.” Emma nodded, finishing his sentence.
Tom swore softly.
“You can say that again. Although when I found out I did more than curse and yell.”
“How did you find out?”
“I walked in on them on New Year’s Eve, getting ready to go out to a party. I never saw the other guy’s face because as soon as I caught them kissing, he bolted.”
Tom’s eyes widened further.
“Lleyton begged me to understand because he was terrified his parents would find out. If they did, he said they’d disown him.”
Tom frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you met his mother you would know what I’m talking about. And Winston? His father? A complete jerk. The whole family are all about appearances. I’m not talking about ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ kind of appearances. The Chirnside family are the proverbial Joneses, and everyone has to keep up with them.” Emma imitated the toffy-sound of her mother-in-law. “Good people like us don’t have gay children.”
“You’re kidding,” Tom said. “They believe that?”
Emma nodded. “Lleyton knew he was gay from the time he was a teenager, but he never acted on it until after we got married. Can you believe it?” She shuddered. “And can you imagine how that makes me feel?”
“No, I can’t imagine.”
“Lleyton is their only son. He’s the youngest with three older sisters. All of his sisters are married – not happily I might add – to independently wealthy men and there’s a tribe of unhappy brats between them. I have as little to do with them as I can. Since Lleyton died, I haven’t spoken to his sisters once, which is no loss let me tell you. When the girls get together it’s like a room full of mini Mary-Margarets and one of those is one too many. I’ve had a text message from my mother-in-law asking something about the house and that’s it.”
“Are you telling me no one in his family knew he was gay? Not one? Even now?”
“Nope. Not that I’m aware.”
Tom was clearly having a difficult time digesting her story.
“How long were you married?”
“A little over two and a half years.”
“So when did things go so wrong? Didn’t you have any clue?”
“For the first year everything was normal. We didn’t see a lot of each other because Lleyton was studying and doing stupid hours at the hospital. I was doing shift work too at a different hospital so it was crazy at times, but we managed. At least I thought we managed.”
“Sounds more like you were two ships sailing in opposite directions,” Tom said.
“Yeah, I guess in hindsight we were. Sex was rare and when we did have it, it wasn’t satisfying for either of us.” Emma felt herself blushing and put her hands up to her burning cheeks. She’d never forget what sex with Tom had been like. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.” She ran her fingers through her still damp hair, dragging out the knots and capturing it into a messy bun on top of her head. “I’ve never told anyone this. Not even my mum.”
“You don’t have to tell me either.” Tom shuffled sideways on the couch and swung his arm across her shoulders. Emma leaned into him and snuggled deeper in his embrace.
“The weird thing is I want to tell you. Plus, you’re cheaper than a psychologist,” she said, elbowing him gently in the ribs.
Tom chuckled as he squeezed her shoulder. “You haven’t seen what I charge yet, so how do you know?”
His fingers burned through the fabric of the shirt and she shivered again.
Tom’s eyes filled with concern. “Can I get you another blanket?”
Emma shook her head and tucked her legs under her. “I’m fine, but thanks. Anyway, I assumed things would change when Lleyton finished his degree and became a doctor. But they didn’t. Things got worse. He worked longer hours and I was left alone. So I worked harder and picked up extra shifts. To be honest, I saw more of my work colleagues and the cleaner at home than I saw of Lleyton.”
“Did you ever talk about it? Tell him?”
“I kept saying we should go away, have a holiday, take a trip, but he never wanted to. He was completely immersed in his career. He had to be. He had to win his father’s approval.”
“How did he plan to keep his lifestyle a secret after the divorce?”
Emma shrugged. “No idea. He had been doing it for years and obviously figured he’d be able to keep it a secret forever. Perhaps he thought being married would help. If I hadn’t interrupted them, I never would have guessed.”
“I still find it hard to believe.”
Emma folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Hard to believe what? That I didn’t know my husband was having an affair? Call it denial, but most spouses don’t see the signs. I had no reason to suspect anything.”
“I’m sorry, Emma, that came out wrong.” He pulled her tighter and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
Emma sighed and relaxed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I know people won’t believe I didn’t know something was wrong. It’s kind of humiliating. Put yourself in my shoes. Imagine if you found out Christine was having an affair and announced it was
with a woman. I guarantee you’d be in shock too.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“According to Andrew, no one else knows.”
“Andrew?”
“His partner.”
Tom’s jaw dropped. “You’ve met his partner?”
The expression on Tom’s face would have been laughable if the hurt from Lleyton’s affair wasn’t still so painful.
“Yeah. Remember the lawyer I told you about? Andrew? He and Lleyton had known each other since school. They’d been together for years.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“So why did Lleyton leave Lexton Downs to you even though you were getting a divorce? Hadn’t he changed the will?”
She shook her head. “It’s more confusing than that. Andrew told me Lleyton was planning to leave me anyway and didn’t want me to be left with nothing. So he bought Lexton Downs to make sure I was looked after when he went with Andrew. The problem was he couldn’t leave me until he’d worked up the courage to tell his parents about Andrew. He died before he had the chance.”
“Do his parents have any idea you were getting a divorce?”
“No.”
“How would they have handled it if they’d known?”
“Badly. I thought Lleyton might have told them, but he hadn’t. That meant when he died I had to pretend to be a grieving wife and widow.”
“So they thought you were still happily married when he died?”
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
Emma stared into her tea cup. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” she mumbled. “The night I found out Lleyton had agreed to the divorce I was drowning my sorrows in a bar in Sydney and kissed a guy who reminded me of you.”
“Was he as cute as me?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not answering that.”
“What’s the big deal? You were about to get divorced.”
“Lleyton’s parents caught us.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. And I’m still worried if they think I was having an affair before Lleyton died, they’ll contest the will one day.”
Life Support: Escape to the Country Page 15