She would rather stay home with Scritches. But friend-making was on Marian’s list, and ticking it off would get her closer to … where?
She’d accepted that Sydney no longer meant home, because she needed somewhere to settle with Roo. But with Denise in their lives, perhaps there could be new options.
Chapter Twenty-one
Sunday afternoon, Roni was turning the last few forkfuls of soil in the potato patch she’d marked out when she heard the rumble of Matt’s ute. As she pulled off her gloves, wincing as her blisters caught on canvas, and shoved her hair into place, she tried to pretend to herself that the flutter of anticipation in her chest was irritation at the interruption.
‘Hey.’ Matt tipped his akubra back as he loped toward her.
‘Hey,’ she replied, slightly disappointed to find he was back to monosyllables after his almost-chattiness a week earlier.
Scritches dashed over and wove around Matt’s feet. ‘Hey there, dude.’ As he bent to scratch the cat’s head, the sheep stampeded up, ramming Roni in the back of her knees.
Matt’s hand flashed out to steady her. ‘Easy there, Goat, you’ll knock your mum over. I take it he’s not loving the competition, now Scritches is out and about?’
‘You wouldn’t believe I’ve just spent two hours in the orchard with him. Though the three of them do seem to play together.’
‘Three?’ Matt’s eyebrow lifted.
She wiped her palms on her filthy jeans, took a quick, nervous breath, then jerked her chin over his shoulder, toward where Baby, timider than the other animals, stood in the shade of a hibiscus tree overhanging the fence. The calf lowed softly, then licked its nose.
Matt glanced at the cow, then back at Roni. A smile twitched the corner of his lips and she softened with relief. Why was she always so quick to expect the worst from him? Surely Rafe had proved to her that all men weren’t the same.
‘So, you got yourself a calf, huh?’ Matt moved toward the animal, and Baby kicked up her heels, dashing to meet him halfway.
Roni couldn’t help herself. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’
‘Certainly a fine-looking beast.’ Matt rubbed a hand across his mouth. ‘Be an interesting proposition to milk, though.’
‘Why? Is she the wrong kind?’ She moved in protectively.
‘No, nice jersey, they’re generally good milkers. The thing is … who sold it to you?’
‘Stan somebody-or-other.’ Her heart squeezed into her throat. Did Stan produce defective cows?
‘Ah. Well, it seems Stan landed you with a bobby.’ Matt ran large hands along the cow’s back and down her legs.
‘Yeah, he said that.’ She twiddled a blade of grass between her fingers. ‘Her name’s Baby.’
‘Hmm.’ Sun-worn lines crinkled around Matt’s eyes. ‘Well, I suggest you be real careful with that milking, because he may not take too kindly to it.’
‘But you said jerseys are good—wait! He?’ She stared at Matt in appalled silence.
Matt nodded. ‘Yup. You’ve bought yourself a little bull. What did Stan charge you?’
At least she hadn’t paid for Baby. Like hell Stan would get his full price now. ‘Nothing. He said we’ll work it out later.’
‘Work it out—or take a share?’
‘Probably the share thing. Why?’
The calf sucked lustily on the side of Matt’s hand. ‘Because a share means a steak. E and an A, not s-t-a-k-e. As far as Stan’s concerned, he provided the calf, your part of the bargain is to fatten it. In a month you’ll be eating veal. Or give it a few months, beef.’
‘No!’ She flung an arm over Baby’s warm neck. His flanks quivered, and he snorted wet breath onto her. ‘No way. Baby’s not anyone’s dinner.’ So much for proving how capable she was. Roni’s cheeks burned with mortification. ‘I’ll turn vego before I do that.’
Matt slapped dust from the calf’s rump. ‘Join the club. I see there’s some of Marian in you.’
‘She was a vegetarian?’
‘Nope. That’s me. Kind of goes with the job. I meant when you arc up, you remind me of her.’
‘I always expect vegetarians to be, like, anaemic little fairies.’ Her cheeks flared as the words escaped.
Matt snorted. ‘I think gorillas disproved that before me.’ He rubbed the hard ridge on Baby’s forehead. Then he huffed out a heavy breath, his words slow. ‘Look, if you plan to stick around, I’ll geld the calf. He’ll never be any use and will cost you a fortune to feed when there’s no graze. But he’ll probably stay docile. And off the plate. Just a larger version of Goat, I guess.’
‘You can do that?’
‘Sure. Looks like he’s got the scours.’ Matt pointed at Baby’s filthy hind legs. ‘It’s not too bad, but I’ll give you some electrolytes to mix in his milk. Remind me before I leave, I’ve probably got some in my bag.’
‘You carry a cow first-aid kit?’ Still too embarrassed to meet his gaze, she concentrated on picking at her blisters.
‘Looks like he’s not the only one needing first aid.’ Matt’s strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. She flinched and he released her immediately. ‘Are those from digging?’
She lifted her chin toward the new garden. ‘I read up on potatoes, and there doesn’t seem to be any reason to grow them in a raised bed. In fact, I’ll probably get a better crop this way, because I can layer manure and dirt as the plant grows.’
Matt surveyed the plot, nodding slowly as she sucked on her palm. ‘Impressive.’
It was stupid to feel so proud of dirt, but the patch had been damn hard work. And Matt’s acknowledgment made her achievement that much sweeter. Only because it meant he’d tick off her task, she assured herself.
‘If you’d yelled out, I would have given you a hand.’
‘I didn’t need help.’
‘I got that. But not needing it doesn’t mean you can’t take it.’ He looked at her searchingly for a long moment. ‘We all help out our mates around here.’
Why was a tiny part of her disappointed that he inferred she was one of his mates? She shook her head, dispelling the question. ‘Cuppa?’ she blurted.
Matt glanced toward the ute, as though he would rather make a run for it. ‘Yeah. Okay, I guess so.’
She pointed to the verandah. ‘Take a seat. I’ll get it.’ That was the way to do it; stake her claim, keep him out of her house.
As she carried out the laden tray, Matt leaped up to hold open the screen door. ‘I’ll put a soft-close on that for you.’
‘It’s fine,’ she started, although it was a lie; every time she stepped out, the aluminium frame bit her heels. She paused. Marian had made mention of accepting help, and Matt had chipped her for failing to do so, only minutes ago. She forced a smile. ‘But if you have some spare time, that’d be great.’ She passed him a plated scone. ‘I promise it’s better than the bread.’
‘I liked the bread. Was kind of hoping you’d made more.’ As he bit into the scone, she held her breath. He scrutinised the morsel in his hand. ‘So, there is an issue.’
Her shoulders slumped, and she poked her own scone. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
Matt popped the remainder into his mouth and swallowed. Hands splayed, he indicated his empty plate and assumed a mournful expression. ‘The issue’s your portion control.’
‘I’ll get you another.’ Flustered, she made to get to her feet.
Matt waved her back down. ‘Joking. Well, not really; if you’ve got any left, I’ll raid the kitchen before I leave.’ He rubbed at his jaw as his gaze left hers, wandering to the peacock perched on the fence at the bottom of the yard, his jewelled plumage spread wide. ‘Look, I, uh, don’t need to clear out just yet. If you wanted to take a cruise around the property, I’ll show you where your boundaries are, that kind of stuff.’
She stared at him. Why offer a tour of a property he considered practically his?
‘Roni?’
‘Sure. I guess my farming knowledge could use a little tweaki
ng.’ She pulled a wry expression and hiked a thumb toward the orchard, where Baby lowed desolately.
‘I’m sure the mistake’s been made before.’
‘Really?’
‘Nope.’ He looked different when his grin erased the taut lines of assessment from his face. ‘I guess this whole deal’—he encompassed the farm with a wave—‘must seem strange to you.’
‘Actually,’ she frowned as she weighed her words, wondering where the truth behind them had suddenly come from. ‘It doesn’t feel as odd as it should. Like, yeah, it’s different. But it doesn’t feel wrong.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, finish your tea, and let’s hit the road.’
The cup grated against the lacework of the table as Matt pushed it away. ‘Not so fast. If we’re going to be stuck in a confined space, I’d like to know that you’re not an axe murderer. Marian’s character assessment wasn’t always that flash. Evidence: one pseudo-farmer.’ He made a pistol with forefinger and thumb, aiming at his chest.
‘Pseudo-farmer?’
‘I asked first. Tell me about yourself, Veronica Nelson.’
‘Gates.’
‘Not Nelson?’
‘My first fosters gave me their name.’
‘First? You had more than one family?’
‘Sure.’ He didn’t have to make it sound weird. Few people wanted their own pre-teen daughter; even fewer were prepared to take on someone else’s cast-off. In her experience, those that did were after the Centrelink payment. Or something else.
‘How many?’
‘Too many.’ Nobody needed that much family.
Matt’s fingers toyed with his hat on the table between them, his forearms dark against the white metal. ‘I’m sorry. I imagine that would’ve been hard.’
The trap cinched around her chest and her words came out tight. ‘You get used to it.’
‘Bullshit.’
She almost dropped her cup. ‘What?’
His icy eyes drilled into her. ‘You might have built up your armour against the hurt. But that’s not the same as getting used to it.’
‘How the hell would you know?’
He held her gaze for a long moment. ‘Because I know how it hurts to lose people.’ The stark anguish in his tone shocked her. Although he’d claimed to be close to Marian, she’d not realised how genuine his loss was. He didn’t try to hide his hurt, instead he leaned closer. ‘Yet you’re trying to persuade me that something as soul-destroying as being shunted from one family to another got easier?’
‘I’m not trying to persuade you of any damn thing,’ she snarled, trying to cauterise the pain of being unwanted. ‘I get what you’re saying, you miss Marian. But I don’t, because I never knew her. And it’s the same with fosters; I made sure not to get to know them.’ Except those she’d known intimately, in ways she didn’t want to remember. She wrapped her arms across her chest, gripping her elbows. Squeezed to control the shudder.
‘That’s no way to live.’
‘That’s your opinion.’ Raised with the privilege of family and friends and history and prospects, how could someone like Matt ever understand that sometimes, walling off your heart was the only way to survive?
Matt rubbed at his chin, then spoke low. ‘You’re right, I miss Marian every bloody day.’ His voice broke, and he clenched his jaw for a second. ‘But that doesn’t mean I avoid getting to know people for fear they’ll leave me.’
‘Then I guess we’re very different people, aren’t we?’ She bit out the words. Damn it, for a few minutes there he’d actually seemed likable.
Matt sighed heavily, his words slow and reluctant. ‘Marian taught me something.’ He gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Actually, she taught me plenty, though some of it was too late. But there was one thing in particular. She said it takes courage to allow a dream, but true bravery comes in learning how to chase it.’
Roni scowled, instantly jealous. ‘So, you have a dream?’ No doubt funded by her aunt.
‘Living it.’ Yet his tone was bitter and she noticed the thinning of his lips and the whitening of his knuckles. Her chest clenched with sudden understanding: he wasn’t only mourning, he hid something dark and painful.
He spread one hand open in question. ‘But what about you? Is there more to life than accepting whatever it throws at you?’
Despite her curiosity, she was immediately on guard; was this a trap, finding out if she planned to sell the property from under him? ‘I’m not into fantasies.’ Except for the dream she now had for her little family.
‘There’s nothing you want to do with your life?’ A frown appeared between the blue eyes, so intent on hers.
‘Life’s not about what I want to do. Only what I need to do.’ She refused to look away, to be intimidated by his assessment or censure.
He paused for a long beat. ‘That’s pretty sad.’
‘Again, your opinion.’ And he was far too free with it. She folded her arms across her chest, signifying she was done with his third degree.
‘Fair call.’ Matt thrust to his feet. ‘Sorry, Roni. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers. I guess, with everything else going on, I forget how lucky I was that Marian encouraged my dream.’
He was determined to rub in his relationship with her aunt, but it didn’t matter. As long as his dream wasn’t realised by getting his hands on her property, she would only be a bit jealous.
Maybe more than a bit. What would it have been like to have someone to share her fears, hopes and desires?
She dug her broken nails into her palm, forcing the weakness away. Roo would have all that and more, but she was well past needing it for herself.
Yet a small voice inside her refused to be silenced; dare she allow the dream that perhaps Denise would finally embrace that role?
A fluster of noise from a shed on the northern side of the yard drew her attention, the rustle of wings combined with a mournful hoot, and she seized the excuse to change the topic. ‘That’s one confused owl. It’s practically the middle of the day.’
Matt piled the plates, his grin now genuine. And suddenly, she didn’t even care that his amusement was at her expense. Though he’d trespassed on her privacy, the torment in his eyes as he spoke of his dream told the truth; despite the unfair advantages of his life, Matt was broken. He knew what it was to hurt.
Unaware of her discovery, he chuckled. ‘Lucky you’re a great cook because you’ll never make it as an ornithologist. That’s a pigeon.’ To prove him right, a flock of the birds evacuated the shed. ‘Is Scritches over there?’
Why did something as simple as his use of the cat’s name soothe her jagged edges? ‘He wouldn’t know what to do with a bird if he caught it. No point calling him, though, he has selective hearing.’ With the farmyard to roam, Scritches was well and truly over his separation anxiety and now disappeared for hours at a time. When he was done exploring, he would charge through the yard, yowling as though she had been the one to desert him. ‘Guess we’d better hit this border-patrol stuff.’
Matt loomed over the table. ‘Sounds like we need to arm ourselves.’
Maybe she did. Because Matt intrigued her. There was something magnetic about him, both attracting and repelling her in almost the same instant.
And, without ever having experienced it before, she instinctively knew the feeling was beyond dangerous.
Chapter Twenty-two
Given how tidy he presented, Matt’s ute was surprisingly dusty inside. He swept an armload of stuff from the passenger seat, tipping it into the footwell at her feet. She eyeballed the paperwork and—according to the wrappers—field dressings. Odd combination. Not a half-eaten burger or empty stubby in sight. Definitely not the car to be stuck in during the apocalypse.
‘I’ll take you round the perimeter first, give you an idea of how far the property extends.’ They jostled over the bridge at the bottom of the driveway. His outburst and her new understanding seemed to have cleared the air, removed a little of the unspoken tension between them.
‘Don’t forget to give me a yell when you want to work on this,’ he added, obviously not noticing her one-rock repair.
‘You don’t think maybe that task was metaphoric?’ Please let it be a metaphor. Metaphors weighed a darn sight less than boulders.
‘For what?’
‘You know, building relationships, becoming part of the community.’
Matt shrugged. ‘Metaphor or not, the job needs doing.’
‘Sure.’ Despite his prosaic statement, she was in no rush to tackle the bridge again.
Elbow on the open window frame, Matt steered with one hand, his penetrating gaze hidden behind aviators. Good. He could keep his ice-blue probing for unsuspecting aliens. He changed gears and lifted his chin toward the opposite side of the main road. ‘Everything you can see beyond that fence line is mine.’
‘Same acreage as Marian’s?’
‘Smaller, fortunately.’
‘Fortunately? I thought size was important?’ she said, then winced as a slow grin tipped his mouth.
‘Some of us are confident enough to rely on less tangible assets.’
‘So, you sharefarm whatever land you can get hold of, instead of owning it?’ she hurried on.
‘Nope.’
‘You don’t farm other properties? Or you’re not trying to get hold of land?’
‘Yup.’
She swallowed a sigh. She couldn’t articulate what it was about Matt that got under her skin. Right now, though, that particular irritant was his attitude. He changed from hot to cold quicker than the shower in her apartment. And with as little reason. ‘You don’t like farming?’
‘I don’t dislike it. It’s just not what I planned to do.’
‘That’s where those dreams of yours come in?’
‘Yup.’
‘But you said Marian supported your dreams? How’d you end up farming for her if it’s not what you want to do?’
He paused a long moment, but she was coming to expect that. ‘I owed it to her.’
She clutched the seatbelt as they jostled over a section of road ridged into waves. Matt had no interest in the property? Was that credible? In her experience, no one helped anyone for nothing. What weapon did Marian have that saw Matt put his dreams on ice to work for her? Christine Albright had alluded to something, and maybe that tied in to Matt’s secret torment. Yet he adored Marian.
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