Tears studded Denise’s eyes, spilling as she shook her head, her tone suddenly pathetic. ‘It can’t be over. It can’t. There’s no one left who loves me. I thought … I thought maybe my daughter would love me. Would need me.’
Roni recognised Denise’s manipulation, yet still her heart twisted. She wanted her mother to want her. But she sure as hell didn’t need her. She lifted her chin to indicate the paddocks, but placed a palm against her heart. ‘There’s nowhere here for you.’
Denise scowled at Roni’s hand, her face hardening. ‘Fine. You’re no better than your aunt. I don’t give a damn about any of you, and even less about this godforsaken dump. I’m going to Europe. You don’t have to come, I’ll go alone. Just give me the money. It’s rightfully mine, anyway.’
A one-way ticket and they’d be shot of her. How could she resist? ‘I’ll talk to Derek. But I can’t promise anything.’ Except that she wouldn’t hesitate to get an intervention order to keep this woman away from Peppertree Crossing.
Denise snapped upright. ‘Talking isn’t enough. You owe it to me, Veronica. You ruined my life. All this should have been mine.’ She waved a hand, encompassing both Matt and the property. ‘You never should have been born, you know. No one wanted you. Not me, not your father. And my sister, ha, she only wanted you as her latest plaything. You were no more important to her than an orphaned lamb.’
‘Enough!’ Matt strode to the BMW and wrenched open the door. ‘Get the hell off this property, Denise. You either move now or I’ll bloody well move you.’
Denise slipped back to ingratiating like a switch had been flicked. ‘Of course. I know you must be busy, Veronica. When you have some time, let’s catch up for coffee again. That was a lovely afternoon.’
As Denise settled behind the wheel, Bonnie on her lap licking eagerly at her face, Matt slammed the door, the set of his shoulders making it clear he held back unimaginable fury.
Roni sagged as the car disappeared in a cloud of dust. She hadn’t realised how tense she was until the adrenaline evaporated, leaving her knees weak and her lips quivering.
Matt’s hands moved to her upper arms, supporting her. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded, blinking furiously, then dashed a hand across her face as the tears spilled. ‘Sorry. I’m being stupid. I don’t care about her, I really don’t. It’s not like I had any expectations.’
‘It’s okay to hurt, Roni. There’s no prize for having the thickest skin.’
She dropped her chin so her face was hidden against his chest. ‘If you let yourself start hurting, sometimes you can’t find the way to turn it off.’
He was silent for a long moment. ‘Everyone hurts. Sometimes you have to let it out, not close it up inside.’ His chest rose unevenly against her cheek. ‘I don’t want any secrets between us, Roni. They’re poison. Denise is … well, you saw for yourself. She’s unstable. But what she said about Simon is true. Part of it, anyway. He was in love with her. Somehow, she worked her way into his life when he was at a low point. But he didn’t kill himself because he discovered she had no money.’
‘Then why?’ She leaned back to look up at him.
‘He killed himself because of me.’ Matt’s throat moved convulsively. ‘What your mother said—’
‘Don’t call her that.’ She never wanted to be associated with Denise in that way again.
He nodded. ‘What Denise said, about her and me. It’s a lie. She did kiss me once, when I was about eighteen. Cougar move. Anyway, she and Simon were fighting a couple of years ago, so she told him she was screwing me, that I was a better prospect because I had a profession and Marian’s support.’ His grip on her arms tightened. ‘We weren’t, Roni, you understand that? I loved my brother. And Simon truly loved Denise.’ Lips compressed into a white line, he shook his head. ‘I guess that’s the tragedy of all this. Denise is so desperate for love that when she had it, she didn’t recognise it.’ He released her and rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘Anyway. She got her talons into Simon when he was vulnerable. The farm wasn’t doing well—like most out here—and I reckon he was depressed. He talked like it was his responsibility to single-handedly end the drought, increase our yield and save the farm. I guess because Dad left it to him. In any case, Denise must have offered him some sort of reprieve from the darkness of his mind. Maybe the attention of a confident, attractive older woman made him feel more worthwhile. I don’t know.’ He shrugged, scowling into the distance as though a scene played before his eyes.
She could feel his pain, his inner turmoil, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him, to tell him it was all in the past; but she knew how the past had a habit of bleeding into the present. Perhaps talking was the best way for him to find healing.
He heaved out a heavy, uneven breath. ‘I could never figure out what the lure was. I suppose Denise is very like Fiona in some respects, so perhaps he was attracted to dominant women. All I know is he could never see her for the manipulator she is. As far as he was concerned, she walked on water. Anyway, when she trotted out this crap about me, he believed her, drank himself stupid, then ploughed his ute into a tree.’ His voice broke and he mashed his lips together for a moment before continuing more quietly. ‘He left a note, just saying he was tired. And that he was sorry. But I know it was my fault; if I’d talked more, like Marian was always nagging me to, Simon would have known the truth. And he wouldn’t have needed to hide in a bottle.’
‘That’s not your fault! We all have things we couldn’t control—’ She shuddered, breaking off. She couldn’t go there. ‘But I get it. It’s not your fault, yet still you hurt.’
‘Yeah. Well, like they say, time’s supposed to heal.’
She screwed up her face. ‘Can’t say I’ve done much healing.’ Yet, as Matt’s penetrating gaze probed her secrets, it seemed that sharing might ease the weight of her memories.
‘We’ll work on it?’ he asked softly.
She nodded but stepped away from him. ‘But right now, there’s a crop to work on.’
‘Boss.’ He mock-saluted, and she breathed easier. At least he understood where the boundaries lay, that she needed space. ‘Want to do a couple more rounds on the header?’
She shook her head. ‘I have to go into town.’
‘No picnic?’
‘The cake’s all yours. I’ve got a few calls to make, and I need to see Tracey.’
Marian was right, she did need people in her life.
And, thanks to her aunt, she got to choose who those people were.
Chapter Thirty-five
‘Door’s open, love.’
The predictable sing-song call brought a smile to Roni’s lips. She stepped over the tufted welcome mat and walked down the familiar hall, lined with pictures of her family.
Tracey was in the kitchen, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, the local newspaper spread open on the table. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on. Lamingtons are in the fridge. Though I have Anzacs if you prefer.’
Roni pressed her lips together for a moment, determined not to cry as the sense of belonging swelled within her. ‘Do we have a biscuit bake-off before the Anzac Day fundraiser?’
‘No, we always use the traditional recipe—wait! We?’ Tracey was out of her seat, pastel fabric billowing around her like a gypsy angel. ‘Anzac Day is months away. Do you mean … Are you …’
Roni pretended not to understand, shifting the biscuit tin from the counter to the centre of the table. ‘I suppose we should focus on the lamington fundraiser for Christmas before we start on our strategy for the next contest.’
Tracey clutched at her arm, her eyes shining. ‘Veronica! Stop messing with me. Do you mean you’re staying?’
She nodded, the tears spilling. She made no effort to stop them. ‘I’m staying.’
‘Oh my. Oh my, oh my.’ Tracey’s arms were around her, her voice broken by sobs. ‘Oh my, I was so afraid you wouldn’t stay. I was worried you’d leave me and go back to Sydney. I wanted to slap that damn Christ
ine Albright for being horrible to you. And Matthew Krueger—treading so carefully instead of telling you how he feels, because he’s afraid you’d get the wrong idea. Oh!’ She released Roni and stepped back, her hand flying to cover her mouth. ‘Did Matt say anything? Only, I know Taylor spoke with him, and that he went to yours yesterday. And his fingers …’
‘Of course you know.’ There were no secrets around here. Not anymore.
‘I swear, if he’s not over at your place talking to you, that man’s here or at Taylor’s talking about you. So you’re good? He’s good?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘Yeah. I think so. We’re … something, anyway. Maybe. We’ll see. There’s no rush, is there?’
‘Yes. No, I mean, no, there’s no rush. Oh, I’m just so happy, I don’t know what I’m saying.’ Tracey’s corkscrew curls danced, defying the restraint of the bright pink scarf threaded through them. She flung her arms around Roni again. ‘This is just the best news ever. You’re so like Marian, having you around is like having a tiny piece of her back.’
‘I need to ask you something about Marian.’ Roni caught at Tracey’s fluttering hands, holding them still. ‘Denise came to visit again today.’
Tracey’s countenance darkened. ‘Oh, I do wish she would just disappear. Can’t we throw a bucket of water over her or something?’
‘That’s what I want to ask you about. Not so much the bucket-of-water plan but the disappearing bit. I know Marian said she didn’t want Denise to have anything from the estate, but you knew my aunt better than anyone alive, so I’ll trust your judgment entirely. Denise wants to go to Europe. I want her to go. Would Marian have been terribly angry at the thought of the estate purchasing her a ticket? I mean, I know that, unfortunately, Denise won’t stay gone forever, she’s always going to find a way to be in my life.’ Ironic, considering how she’d once longed for her mother’s commitment. ‘But this way I figure we at least get a bit of a breather from her. Is that too cowardly?’
Tracey sat slowly, her hands folded in an attitude of prayer. ‘For all that Marian complained about Denise, she did love her sister. That’s why she kept funding her. If you choose to buy her a ticket, or a house, or a one-way trip to the moon—which would, incidentally, be my preference—you’ll be doing exactly what Marian had always done, and would have continued to do.’
Roni exhaled. ‘So you’re all right with that part of my plan?’
‘It’s none of my business, love.’
‘Yes, it is. I respect your opinion. You’re going to have to get used to me bringing all my mum problems to you.’
Tracey’s fingers fluttered to clutch her beads. ‘I hope you mean that in the way I think you mean it. I’ve never been a mum before.’
Roni smiled shyly. ‘And I’ve never been a daughter before. But I’d like to try.’
Tracey’s hug was a promise of a forever home.
Derek Prescott was rather more circumspect; she could almost imagine him leaning back in his leather chair, staring out over the harbour as he considered the proposal she put to him by phone. ‘You can certainly gift Denise whatever you choose, but you can’t stipulate she stay away from you, or from the property.’ His words held a note of caution. ‘Not without a court order. However, from what Marian told me of her sister’s mental state, should you choose to follow that path I think we will find little resistance within the legal system.’
For a moment she was tempted. A clean cut.
Except it would never be clean. Maybe she was incapable of abandoning her mother despite having been abandoned by her. ‘No. I don’t want to cause her trouble. I want …’ She paused, almost embarrassed to admit what she wanted. ‘I want her to be happy. I can see she has problems, but she’s still my … well, she’s still related to me. And that puts her in a group of about, let’s see … one person. Although, apparently, I do have a bunch of cousins on my father’s side, but I think he would have preferred they didn’t know about my heritage.’
‘Your father?’
She glanced at the phone as though she would be able to see the surprise that echoed in the lawyer’s voice. Marian had truly kept her promise; it seemed even Derek Prescott didn’t know the full truth of her identity. She didn’t owe her father a thing, and he’d never taken responsibility for his actions. His humiliation and regret weren’t a fair penalty, but Marian had chosen to protect him, and she owed Marian … everything. Although she didn’t agree with Marian’s decision, she would honour her aunt’s choice.
She ignored Derek’s implied question. ‘So I can gift Denise the money to go on the trip?’
‘You can gift her whatever you want. Although Marian didn’t include Denise in her will, wanting to be certain that Peppertree Crossing became entirely yours, she did establish a family trust that provides an annuity for Denise and keeps Jim Smithton on a retainer. Very generous funding, I must say, although it seems Denise burns through it quickly.’
Across the room, from where she had been pretending not to listen to Derek’s booming voice, Tracey snorted.
Roni flashed her a grin. Though Derek only confirmed what Tracey had already told her, still it was a relief to find that she and Marian were on the same page; family were family, no matter what.
She returned to the property later than she had hoped, multiple cups of tea being required to lubricate the lengthy phone consultation with Derek, and then more tea when Tracey drove her over to discuss her proposal with Jim Smithton. She discovered that Ella was, in fact, his wife, not one of his greyhounds, and that his sons, with a little encouragement from their parents, were in complete agreement that playing online games and doing a few hours’ work at the supermarket were probably not the career paths they wanted.
Though it was dark, she was disappointed not to see Matt in the paddocks as she drove up to the house. He was the person she was most eager to share her idea with. Born from a notion that had formed weeks earlier, as she worried about what would become of her growing menagerie if she left the farm, it was now a plan, down on paper thanks to Derek Prescott’s business acumen.
Scritches yowled as she reached the back door, informing her he had been shut inside for far too long and would like time in his new cat run.
An envelope fluttered in the doorjamb, and she tried to control a surge of excitement. The note could be one of the promised ‘hidden’ letters from Marian, delivered by a faithful friend. But, as much as she craved the missives that connected her with the family she could never know, a single line from Matt would hold more promise of a future than any inheritance could offer.
She crossed to the kitchen, flipped on the kettle and sat. Scritches jumped onto the table. She’d read that squirting a cat with water would break that particular bad habit but, as Scritches still shared her shower, it was unlikely to work on him. Besides, they both knew he was king here. He padded over, butting his head up under her chin, making sure she didn’t forget him, despite the distraction in her hand.
‘You know I’ll always love you, Scritch.’ But there was no reason for him to be the only one. She unfolded the note.
Roni,
I’ve learned the stupidity of keeping my mouth shut, of thinking my intentions are obvious, and I’m not willing to risk losing you by staying silent. But talking doesn’t come easy, so I figure I’ll take a page out of Marian’s book and put my thoughts in writing.
Marian did a number on both of us. She was a master manipulator with a long-term plan for everything. Maybe she did intend for me only to mentor you. I guess we’ll never know. Yet I hope she wanted more, as when she set her heart on something the universe had a tendency to fall into line—and I’d really appreciate that kind of backing right now because I’m way beyond the point of wanting to share only my knowledge with you.
There’s an eclipse tonight. I know how you value your security, but if you’re prepared to see where this thing between us could go, leave your door unlocked.
Matt
The letter was everyth
ing she could want, yet it terrified her. Despite her plans and desires, dare she let Matt beyond her defences? She had worked so hard to be capable. To be strong. Unbreakable.
But Marian’s overarching message was that she needed to step from the imagined safety of solitude and take a chance to find true happiness.
She heaved a tremulous breath and unlocked her door.
Scritches raced to the sunroom, his paws still nowhere near as fast as her heartbeat. She stood, remaining in the kitchen. ‘It’s open.’ The words probably weren’t loud enough for Matt to hear but still he entered. Stood awkwardly inside the doorway.
She looked at the table.
He looked at her looking at the table.
Scritches swung his head, gazing from one to the other. Then he decided the silence had stretched too long, yowled and stuck his claws into Matt’s moleskins, trying to pull his way up.
‘Ouch! He’s really not big on jumping, is he?’
‘Likes to play it cautious.’
‘Smart.’ Matt hauled the cat up against his chest.
‘Maybe not always.’
‘Do you think he’ll change?’
She bit the inside of her cheek. ‘This new environment might help.’
His eyes on her, Matt didn’t even glance at the cat that neither of them was actually talking about. He slid the backpack from his shoulder and dropped it onto the table. ‘I figured it was my turn to bring the picnic. But you never said whether you like liverwurst.’
‘I think it’ll grow on me.’ She waved a hand toward the bench beneath the etched glass cupboards. ‘Lamingtons for dessert okay?’
‘No need for them to grow on me. I’m already sold.’
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stuck her hands in her back pockets. Why had she ever thought she wanted him to talk more? This wordplay was excruciating. If he’d sweep her into his arms and kiss her it would ease the tension. Maybe. But he wasn’t that kind of guy. He wouldn’t make a move until she made her permission clear.
The Farm at Peppertree Crossing Page 31