Susan gulped. “Maybe if you asked them—”
“What would I do in the city? I don’t have any qualifications. I have a daughter to think about,” he said. “I thought you liked it here. I thought you loved me.”
I do, she wanted to say, but she held her silence because nothing she could say would make this right.
Tyler rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck,” he said finally. He started up the car, and Susan stared at the blurry streets as they drove through the town.
They didn’t speak until Tyler pulled up in front of Nolan’s house.
“Are you sure?” Tyler asked.
“Yes.” Susan turned away and fumbled for the car door. She grabbed her bag and scrambled out, slamming the door before she straightened her back and strode to the house. Tears ran freely down her face and a sob broke free. She’d known telling Tyler wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected the pain that would crash over her, wrenching her heart and making her want to crawl into a dark hole.
Tyler drove home on autopilot. If he hadn’t had responsibilities at home, he would have detoured to the pub and tied one on. He thought…he’d never considered…fuck!
Nolan’s vehicle sat outside when he pulled up. Great. Just what he wanted. The only bloody good thing about this was that Susan wouldn’t consider a relationship with Nolan either. For the same reasons she’d rejected him.
He pulled himself out of the car and headed inside. Voices came from the lounge, but he ignored them to check on Katey. His daughter slept on her side, a multitude of dolls and soft toys tucked into the bed to keep her company. He studied her for a long minute, the ties of parental love making him ache. As much as he loved Suzy, he’d survive. They’d survive. He knew because he and Katey had done it before.
Silently, he stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door closed. Facing the inevitable, he entered the lounge and came to an abrupt halt. He’d expected Nolan, but not his father.
“What’s up?” he asked, in no mood for socializing.
“Tyler,” Josie said in a chiding manner.
He straightened from his defensive hunch and tried for a welcoming grin. He suspected it was more grimace, but he’d made an attempt.
“Would you like a beer?” Josie asked.
Beer wouldn’t do. Not tonight. “Do we have any of that whisky left?”
Her look was searching and followed by sympathy, which made his gut roil.
“We need to talk,” his father said. “It’s easier to talk to both of you at once.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Eric said, starting to stand.
“No,” Tyler snapped. “You and Josie are my family. You can stay.”
Eric sent an uncomfortable look at Tyler’s father.
Samuel Penrith gave a curt nod. “I deserve that. It’s okay. I’m sure I can count on your discretion.”
Josie returned and handed out drinks. Tyler’s hand curled around the tumbler of Scottish whisky. A healthy double. Thank you, Josie.
His father climbed to his feet. He took a few steps before halting behind an armchair. His big hands curled around the headrest, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. “I should have told you this a long time ago, but I promised your mother. Appearances are important to her.” He shook his head. “Before we moved to Clare, we lived in Ashburton in the South Island. Elizabeth is a demanding woman. I loved her, but our marriage was up and down. Rocky.” He sighed as he stared at his hands. “Full of drama. During one of those downs, I had an affair. I didn’t love Rochelle, and it didn’t take me long to realize I was a fool for jeopardizing my marriage. Elizabeth didn’t know about the affair, and I didn’t mention my slip. I’m ashamed to say I put my fling at the back of my mind and set it aside.”
Tyler gulped more of his whisky. Why was he telling them this? His father’s expression slunk into rueful and the foreboding slapped at Tyler, the urge to move striking him with hammer blows. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot like a mighty kauri. This was old history. Hell, he didn’t even like to think about his parents doing it. What kid did?
His father took a sip of his beer, his gulp loud in the edgy silence. He cleared his throat, his gaze fastening on the label of the beer bottle. “Things were going well between Elizabeth and I. We were happy. We had Nolan and we were trying for another baby. Then…” He seemed to drift for a moment before recalling where he was, his mission. “A year had passed since my affair. Rochelle and I hadn’t had any contact since we parted. Out of the blue, a lawyer contacted me. Rochelle and her parents were in a car accident—killed at the scene. There was a baby—my baby. Tyler, that baby was you.”
White noise roared through his brain. He stared at his father, watched his mouth move, didn’t hear a thing. A hand settled on his shoulder, yanking him free of his stall.
“Tyler,” Josie said, concern a furrow on her brow. “Are you all right?”
Tyler swallowed hard, turning to her. “Elizabeth isn’t my mother.” God, now so much made sense. The woman hated him, made no secret of the fact, except he’d never known why.
“Why did you take me?” he asked. His gaze slid to Nolan, and he could see his brother—half-brother—was as shocked as him.
“There was no one else. You were my blood. I couldn’t walk away.”
“What happened after the lawyer contacted you?” Tyler didn’t want to know, yet he couldn’t walk either.
“I had to tell Elizabeth the truth.” His heavy sigh seemed to come from the depths of his belly. “She didn’t take the news well. I told her I intended to raise you as my son.”
And Elizabeth hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. He stared at his father, wanting more explanations. Nolan remained silent and watchful.
“It was a standoff, both of us determined to get our way. In the end, Elizabeth laid down an ultimatum. She doesn’t believe in divorce and told me she’d agree to have you in the house and raise you if we moved to a new town where no one knew our history. She didn’t want neighbors looking at her sideways or gossiping behind her back.”
Tyler closed his eyes and the roaring inside his head escalated. Elizabeth—he couldn’t think of her as his mother—had acquiesced to his presence. Grudgingly, he’d bet, and she’d never treated him like a son, never comforted him when he’d fallen and skinned his knees. Instead, he’d received a perfunctory order to clean up and stop crying. From Elizabeth, he’d learned independence.
The memories, the demands to behave, to do as he was told…the punishments when he didn’t conform to her standards. Every transgression commented on and the meting out of an appropriate punishment. After a while he’d given up trying to please her because nothing he’d done was good enough. Leaving for university had come as a relief, until Rebecca had become pregnant and his entire future crashed around his ears.
His eyes snapped opened, and he poured his fury into his glare at his father. “Why didn’t you stick up for me? Why did you let her treat me the way she did?”
“Guilt. The entire situation was my fault. My lust for another woman created the problem.”
“You didn’t have to take me. You could have had me adopted.” Pain underscored his words, and Josie’s arm went around his waist, trying to take some of his anguish with her loving touch.
“You’re my son,” his father said, as if that explained everything. He glanced at Nolan. “You’re both my sons.”
“You’ve a funny way of showing kinship. You never stood up for me. You let her treat me like a stranger in your home. Seen and not heard.”
“It was part of my agreement with Elizabeth,” his father said, his haggard face full of regret. “It wasn’t right, but it was the only way I could keep you close.”
“What about my real mother?” A mother he didn’t know. Right now he ached to fill the gaps in his memory, to learn about her.
His father gave a heavy sigh. “She was beautiful with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes. She was an art teacher at a high sc
hool in Christchurch, and she did portraits in the square, not far from the cathedral, on the weekends. That’s how I met her. I stopped to watch her sketching a portrait and she talked me into sitting for one. Things went from there.”
His artistic talent came from his mother. He’d always wondered since his father and Elizabeth couldn’t draw a straight line. A tiny spark of warmth bloomed in contrast to the chill wrapped around his chest. “Do you have a photo?”
“No, I’m sorry.” His father glanced around the room before he let his gaze settle on Tyler. “I should have told you this a long time ago. I should have stood up for you more while you were growing up. I know you’ll probably never forgive me—hell, I don’t think I’ll come close for making up for my behavior.” His chest rose and fell in another sigh. “If you want to talk, I’ll be moving in with Nolan once he has a spare room. I have a room at the Blue Gum motel meantime.”
Tyler gave a curt nod, physically unable to say a word of reply. The door slammed behind his father and Nolan.
“Tyler.” Josie tugged him around and stared into his face. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. Talk about a prick of a day. First Susan and now this. “It’s late,” he finally said. “I might go to bed.”
“Tyler, before you go.” Eric stopped him with gruff words and a hand on his shoulder. “Josie and I think of you as family. As far as we’re concerned, you’re our son and we love you.”
“Eric is right,” Josie said. “We might not tell you often, but without you we’d have lost the farm. We know Rebecca wasn’t easy, yet despite that you stuck with her and then us when we were at our lowest.” She smiled at him, her face soft and eyes misty. “We love you, son.”
“Thanks. The feeling is mutual.” Tyler struggled for the right words, the right response. “I…ah…I’m knackered. It’s been a long day.”
“Night, Tyler,” Eric said.
“See you in the morning,” Josie said.
Their soft murmurs drifted after him as he sped down the passage, desperate for the sanctity of his room. He shut the door quietly when the urge to slam it had him trembling. Heaviness shoved against his ribs, and he clenched his jaw to hold back his shouts of frustration. Nothing had changed yet the ground shook beneath his foundations, shifting the balance of his life.
No point resenting Eric and Josie. The way he looked at it—they’d saved him and Katey. They’d made him and their granddaughter into a family, giving his little girl everything she needed. Love. Security.
Art and his dreams…
Well, he’d had to grow up and take responsibility for his daughter, his sick wife. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t paint in his spare time.
In the darkness, Tyler stripped out of his clothes and slid into bed.
He closed his eyes and Suzy’s sad expression when she’d told him she’d be leaving Clare floated through his mind. Fuck! As much as he hated to accept the truth, she was right. Forcing the issue would end up like his marriage all over again with two people who loved each other torn in two different directions.
No, he’d stay here in Clare. Life would go on and he’d survive.
Susan kept hoping Tyler would drop by to say goodbye, although she understood she’d hurt him. Trust her—she was an abysmal failure when it came to love, relationships. Maybe she’d concentrate on work and find another couple of interests to fill in her loneliness. A heavy sigh emerged and she powered up her laptop to write her final Clare blog post.
Part of me is sad to leave Clare because I’ve met so many wonderful people. The residents of Clare, from age four to ninety, have made me and the rest of the girls welcome. They’ve embraced us and made us a part of the community. The other part of me is excited to get back to my normal routine, back to my friends and the job I’ve come to love.
I won’t have to wear my red gumboots in the city, yet I can’t bear to part with them because I purchased and wore them here in Clare.
I’d like to thank everyone in Clare who has taken the time to speak with us, give us an encouraging word and invited us to share in your community lives. You have a wonderful town and I can see why Nolan chooses to make his life here.
Susan bit down on her bottom lip. Hard. No tears. The decision to leave Tyler was the right one. Head up and no regrets. She sniffed and concluded her blog entry.
I’m not sure how the show will end—only Nolan knows the identity of the woman he’ll choose—so don’t try to wrangle the answer from me. I don’t know. I swear!
Make sure you tune in for the final show on Thursday night.
Goodbye, Clare.
Susan
“You’re back!” Julia cried, her voice echoing through the almost empty club. She switched off the music. “Take five, everyone.”
Maggie and Christina turned, broad grins on their faces.
“We missed you,” Maggie said.
“I missed you guys too.” Tears welled at her eyes when she found herself in the middle of a group hug.
“Are you here to work?” Julia asked. “I thought you were going to stay in Clare for a few more days.”
“Jennifer changed the show format and said we could go home.”
“Who won?” Christina demanded. “Who did Nolan choose?” She glanced over her shoulder. “And what about Tyler?”
“I…I…” Susan paused to clear her throat and had to blink extra hard to keep her tears confined. “Nolan picks his winner this week.” She had to force the words past the constriction in her throat. “Tyler…” She trailed off and bit her sorely abused lip. “I might go and grab my dance gear from my locker.” She hurried away before her friends voiced the other questions brewing in their fertile minds.
Behind her silence reigned before Julia—at least she presumed it was Julia—clapped her hands and ordered everyone back to work.
In the changing room, she took long seconds to compose herself, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. She tied back her hair in a tight ponytail and grabbed the clean set of dance gear from her locker. Hard, physical exercise would help her forget everything she’d given up for the greater good.
Dressed appropriately, she returned to her friends and threw her heart into learning a new routine and reacquainting herself with ones she hadn’t danced for weeks.
“Want to go for a coffee and catch-up once we’ve showered?” Christina asked.
“No, I think I’ll head back—” She broke off abruptly, her brain racing. Better to get this over now. Like pulling a tooth, discussing a breakup was best done quickly. Get out the details and her friends wouldn’t ask more nosy questions. “Okay.”
“Great,” Maggie said. “I’ll ring Connor and let him know I’m having coffee. He might be able to join us.”
Susan opened her mouth to object and then sighed. Her friends were curious. In their position, she’d feel the same inquisitiveness.
“I suppose you’re glad to get a decent cup of coffee again,” Christina said.
Susan let out a laugh that was half snort. “Clare might be a country town, but they’re not the smallest dot on the map. They have two cafés. One is in a bookshop and the other one is part of the bakery. Both places do delicious food and excellent coffee.”
“My shout this afternoon.” Christina gave her a swift hug. “I’m pleased you’re back.”
They settled at a window table, gradually adding more chairs as their group grew in size. When Ryan and Caleb turned up, everyone was present, even though it was a workday.
“What is this?” Susan demanded, sharing her grumpiness around. “An intervention?”
“You don’t seem happy,” Julia said. “We thought you’d be excited about the contest and making it to the final two.”
“Tyler and I broke up.”
“Aw, Susan,” Maggie said. “We’re sorry. We really liked him.”
“Do we need to take a hit out on him?” Caleb asked.
“No.” Susan picked up her latte and took a quick sip, trying to swallow her
guilt with the coffee. She’d really liked Tyler too, and that was the problem. After Tyler, anyone else would fall short.
“What happened with the show?” Connor asked.
“I’m not sure yet. The final one airs on Thursday night. I won’t know anything until Thursday afternoon either.”
Talk drifted on to other topics—thankfully—and Susan tried to respond to her friends in her usual manner. Control and normal activities were the secret. Eventually each day would become easier.
She hoped.
The rest of the week crawled, although Susan tried to keep busy. She walked to the bank to grab the change for the coming night.
“Susan!”
Susan turned at the call of her name and frowned at a complete stranger. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Jonathon Harris, a reporter with the Auckland News. This is good timing since I was on my way to see you. Who did Nolan choose? Does he know about your affair with the other man?”
“What other man?”
“I have an eyewitness who puts you with this man after the start of the show, just as the rumors say. My witness swears the man looks like Nolan’s younger brother. Can I have your comment on that?”
“I don’t have a comment,” Susan said.
“Shame,” the reporter said. “The article is going to run in tomorrow’s paper. I thought it would be good to include your side of the story.”
“No comment.” She increased her pace and plunged through the front doors of the bank. Thankfully, the reporter didn’t follow to prod harder at her inner turmoil. A story to coincide with the final show. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
Christina picked up the Wednesday morning paper and let out a gasp.
“A story about me?” Susan asked as she shunted a mug of coffee at her friend. She’d been too chicken to open the paper to see if the reporter had spoken the truth.
“Third page,” Christina said. “A full page story with a picture of you and Nolan and another of Tyler.”
Farmer Wants a Wife: Love and Friendship, Book 3 Page 18