Unexpected Delivery

by Leanne Lovegrove

  A knot sat in Daniel’s stomach.

  Estelle was not a woman usually lost for words. Strong and forthright being more accurate. He would have expected anger, nasty words and vitriol but sadness seeped out of Estelle making her shrink even smaller. Her eyes were downcast and she wouldn’t look at him. It would have been easier to deal with throwing vases and raised voices but her calm unnerved him and made him feel like a right prick. Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong but be honest.

  Why then did he feel so hollow?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow with his upper arm and inhaled deeply. The midday sun radiated unseasonable warmth. With the pounding of each fence post, his worries, frustration and anxiety lessened. He almost wanted to deny that budding of excitement and hope that sat in his lower stomach. He was too nervous to let it grow and sprout wings.

  He’d struck these poles into the ground harder than necessary, striking at them with such force he’d already splintered two. He tried to calm down and slow down, he couldn’t afford to ruin valuable timber. The peace and quiet helped as did being outdoors and being engaged in manual labour. At this far reach of the property, only cows, birds and local wildlife could be heard, along with the bubble of the creek water as it sped past. This fence had needed replacing for ages; he’d lost a few cattle across the stream, out of his property and into the bounds beyond. He’d put off repair, hoping to install an electronic contraption, but, well, he had no funds for that. But today, he needed a physical job to occupy him and this was perfect. Plus, he could be alone to deal with the turmoil swirling within him.

  It had been a pleasing job too; his energy had propelled the fence repair and he’d be finished in record time: nothing like the satisfaction of completing a well-overdue task.

  Rounding a slight curve in the boundary, he counted he had less than three posts to replace and he’d be done. He heard a rustle to his far right. At first, he thought one of his cows had gone astray as the water swished and the leaves shifted.

  Daniel held his pick aloft, ready to swipe it to scare the animal back to where it belonged. Mid-swing, he pulled up sharp, narrowly avoiding his foot, when he spied two pale legs dangling over a rock. They swung back and forth, pink painted toes scraping the surface of the icy water. He didn’t read much or watch many movies, but this scene appeared like one out of a well-read novel. Perfect clear skies overhead and serenity and beauty—a magical setting. He’d be certain that many a scene could be set just in this spot.

  Whilst it was beautiful, his heart lurched. Had Estelle followed him?

  He ducked low under the branches, out of sight, spying on the limbs. No, these legs were long and almost pure white. Not Estelle, but who? Regardless, they were on his property. Reluctantly and with a loud sigh, he put down his pick and ventured closer.

  Only a few steps forward and with the trees clearing, he had a full view of the stranger.

  Vivienne.

  Whilst he would deny it to anyone, the sight of her lit him up from the inside. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, dancing and singing with glee. He dampened his stirring lust, but couldn’t ignore it. Her red hair flowed freely around her lower back and caught the sun streaming into the secluded valley making it appear on fire. Lapping up the sun’s warmth, her face lifted upwards catching the rays, whilst her feet cooled in the water.

  At his next step, a twig cracked under his foot and her feet stopped swinging. She turned and saw him.

  Vivienne sat atop that rock, smiling at him, her face a book of expression.

  If he had been warm before, now he burned.

  Dressed in her summer clothes of shorts and T-shirt, legs and arms bared, she had his pulse quickening ten times faster than any woman ever had. She rose, collecting a book that was beside her, and headed toward him. It required her to climb over boulders and wade through low water. Stepping into an unexpected puddle she erupted in giggles.

  Offering his hand to her over the rockiest part, he guided her to a flat patch of grass, between the creek and his fence.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello.”

  It was the first time they’d seen each other since the kiss.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You are actually on my farm.”

  “What, this? This is part of your farm? I can’t believe it. I just followed a random path and kept heading downwards, it led me here. I could hear the gurgle of the water and I wanted to see it, it sounded peaceful.”

  “Yeah. Whilst I’ve never come down that way before, it’s strange how the mountains merge at their bases, almost to a triangle point. This is the edge of my property, the corner you might say.”

  She smiled up at him.

  “Working then, are you?” She gestured toward the equipment laying around over yonder.

  “Yep, been needing to fix this fence for a long time, and today is the day. I’ve almost finished. This’ll stop the girls from getting out. They are attracted by the creek too, the fresh water and tend to venture across, but that land isn’t mine.” Daniel pointed crossways.

  “Aren’t most fences electric these days?”

  She was smart.

  “Yep, but not this one.”

  “Can I help?”

  Stunned, he didn’t answer straight away.

  “I’m handy, can dig holes, hold tools, get you a drink?”

  He chuckled.

  “I‘ve almost finished, so if you want too, we can do them together and it’ll take no time. But you don’t have to.”

  Vivienne shrugged. “I’m happy too.”

  Her job was to hold the new post in place whilst Daniel hammered it in and made the foundations solid. She didn’t flinch as he struck the pole with force. Then, she watched as he threaded the wire, his bulky hands making it appear tricky. They worked companionably in silence.

  “Looks good,” she said at its completion. “Should hold your cows in.”

  That smile again. It radiated out of her.

  “Are you in a hurry?”

  “Me?” She shook her head. “No, why?”

  “Will you wait here? I’ll be back in just a minute.”

  “Sure,” Vivienne shrugged, “I’ll read my book.”

  Innocently, she held up the purchase she’d made at the second-hand bookstore.

  Daniel blanched. It was fleeting and he recovered quickly.

  But he watched Vivienne examine its cover as if it might give her a clue to his reaction. She hadn’t missed it.

  “Be back in a jiff.”

  ***

  Daniel raced away, muscles pumping as he legged it up the hill. Tools lay where he’d left them, and cuttings and other paraphernalia. Vivienne tidied the equipment into a nearby crate for carrying it she presumed and piled up the rest when it wouldn’t all fit. It looked neater than before and gave her something to do. It was hard to concentrate on reading with Daniel rushing away so mysteriously. The words all blurred in the front of her vision.

  She wouldn’t have usually chosen a regency romance novel. The covers always put her off; all those women sitting draped across velvet chairs and looking sorrowful. It made them seem trashy. But sitting in the sun, a warm breeze tickling her bare skin, the water racing past, the scene was idyllic and the Georgette Heyer had been the perfect choice. Subconsciously, she’d been thinking of her mother, too, when she’d made the decision.

  Daniel returned out of breath from rushing. His arms were laden with goods. A green wicker picnic basket adorned one hip and he held a bag in his other hand. Vivienne jumped up to ease the load whilst he spread out a blanket which would prove much more comfortable than the ground. Watching, she said nothing as he lifted out each goodie, one at a time. She almost squealed with glee to see each of the Bunyatree cheeses emerge, followed by fresh fruit of berries and crackers and some antipasto of olives and cured meats.

  “These are not from your farm, I presume?” she said holding up the olives and frui
t.

  Laughing, “No, they aren’t, but they are my neighbours, on the far side. They have an orchard of olive and apple trees, a few other varieties, too. I hope you’re hungry?” His face clouded for a moment.

  “Yes, I am. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  As the piece de resistance, Daniel popped the cork on a sparkling white and poured the liquid, overflowing into crystal flutes.

  As she munched on a sliver of cheese and devoured it, Vivienne looked at the spread before her and realised that he’d gone to a great deal of effort. All of it was the highest quality of products and the presentation with the basket and chequered blanket and not to mention the real glasses to drink from.

  “This is really beautiful, Daniel, thank you. How did you rustle it up so quickly?”

  He tapped the side of his nose.

  Concocting a delicious combination of Camembert cheese and strawberry on a sesame cracker, he held it out to her. One hand held her champagne and the other stretched out behind her, holding her body upright so she was unable to take it. With no hesitation, he fed it to her; his finger ever so lightly brushing her bottom lip.

  “It’s absolutely delicious!” she declared.

  Whilst enjoying munching on the spread and drinking the fine drop, she kept noticing Daniel glance at her novel, face up, the cover displaying a woman adorned in an emerald green dress draped across an old-fashioned chair.

  “Did you want to borrow it?” she asked, holding up the book, trying to make light of it.

  He grimaced. “Sorry. My wife used to read those, and that one in particular, she was reading when she died.”

  Oh boy.

  “Daniel, I’m so sorry,” Vivienne immediately turned the book over and put it out of sight by shoving it back into her duffel bag.

  “I didn’t mean to buy it. I wanted a sweeping family saga, I’ve never read her before but with multiple copies in the second-hand book store and the lady recommended it . . .”

  “It’s okay, honestly. It’s ridiculous how it’s often the little things that set you off, a book, a smell, a sound. It’s all good. Another glass?”

  She nodded. That was one sure way to dampen the mood.

  “I do have news, though.”

  Vivienne nodded, encouraging him, hopeful it was good news and confident it would be by the anticipatory look on his face.

  Daniel told Vivienne about the success of the fundraising. It was impossible not to get caught up in his joy, at his pleasure as he told her.

  Fist pumping the air, she screamed in delight.“That is so fantastic! I am so happy for you. I know how much this place means to you. I can’t describe how delighted that makes me, let alone you. I can’t imagine.”

  They looked at each other, aware of the tenuous lines that connected them.

  “I’m sorry, too, again. About all that fuss before, when I yelled at you and the trivia night. You haven’t glimpsed the best of me.”

  “Hey, look, I understand, these have been stressful circumstances, but the most important thing is that you can keep the farm.” It felt necessary to advise Daniel on what he needed to do next by way of paying the arrears and timeframes and paperwork. It being her job and all; it was her duty, right?

  “Thanks for your help with all that. Next step, though is to actually get the money.”

  “Where is it?”

  “You know, with Estelle Winthrop or she knows where it is at least.” Even hearing the name made Vivienne shudder—and Daniel too—but Vivienne didn’t notice.

  “Hmm, what’s she got to do with it?”

  “As the organizer, the brains behind it, so to speak, she holds the funds. Or actually, I’m not sure, she didn’t say. She just showed me the figures on a sheet of paper. I will have to check that with her.” He looked away, perhaps thinking how he might tackle Estelle on the issue.

  “Okay, so if you’re up to speed with bank payments and debts.” She smiled at the relief of even uttering those words. “What is the next plan? I mean, you know to avoid it happening again?”

  “Um, not sure.” He was taken aback. The look on his face changed in milliseconds from happiness to pensive.

  Had she made a mistake? God, she shouldn’t have asked, it was none of her business. But, forward planning made perfect sense to her. And she really didn’t want it to happen again in the future. She did tend to be a fixer.

  “Sorry, Daniel, it’s just that people say you could be making more money than you are if you produced additional products.” She shrugged. “Like low fat milk and other cheeses, for example.

  Daniel tensed, sat up straighter and placed his glass on an even patch of grass. His lengthy sigh pronounced frustration and fatigue.

  She held her breath, regretting overstepping an invisible boundary. Just shut up Vivienne!

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard, maybe that I’m crazy, a poor operator, another sunk dairy farmer . . .let me tell you straight. That way you aren’t confused as to how I got myself into this mess. Let me say this, I accept full responsibility, but gee, if I was prone to conspiracy theories, it would be easy to blame the world and say it worked against me.”

  Daniel paused to suck air into his lungs as he spoke so fast. “You must have heard about the ongoing battle dairy farmers have faced over past years?”

  She nodded. “Impossible not to.”

  “For years we’ve had a local supplier, same one my father had before me.,” Daniel looked away into the distance but kept speaking, not looking at her. “We were contracted to them, locked in for three year periods. You know all about contracts, I thought they benefited both parties,” shaking his head, “but anyway, the world milk economy collapsed, milk prices dropped and without warning,” his voice rose in anger, “the supplier told me that they’d been paying me, and everyone else, too much for our milk and that I owed them money!”

  Daniel’s lips trembled, his eyes wide and alert. The passage of time had not lessened his pain.

  “At that point, I had six months left on my contract, I rode the time, researching other options and got out when I could. Despite not signing back on for their outrageous bottom line for more financial torture, I still owed what they called arrears.”

  “How much?”

  “Six figures.”

  “You have to understand that supplier was offering me less than it cost to produce the milk, staying with them was a death knoll with wracked debt. We decided, Sarah agreed, that we wanted to continue to farm, refuse to give up. But we had to operate differently, better. Prior to this I’d done my research—I knew the key had to be the supplier, effectively I needed to become everything—maker of milk, producer, supplier and distributor. Sounds great, doesn’t it? It all meant money, of course. This farm milked cows, not bottled it, or made labels or sold it ready made. To set up that operation put us into further debt. We weighed up every risk, but concluded it would be a safe decision and worth it.” Daniel sighed again, the weight of the world back on his shoulders. He poured himself another drink and took a gulp, almost emptying it in one mouthful. “It took a few years to establish ourselves, hire staff, to get milk out the door. Whilst we survived, the debt didn’t decrease, sales varied and add-in the loan for our new venture and we kept going backwards. You understand, too, that my milk costs more. We are not a major company operation that can mass produce, we make what we can. The suppliers providing milk to the supermarkets keep selling the milk for cheaper and cheaper prices and for struggling families, what choice do they make? They choose the less expensive option.”

  “When Sarah died none of it mattered, I neglected the business and it made the situation worse.”

  “Understandable,” Vivienne said.

  He shrugged. “It could have been worse, my friends in Victoria, they were contracted to a major co-operative and are now stuck with an enormous payback. Many are selling their cows to the abattoirs just to survive.”

  Emotionally spent, he ended with “plus, my wife preferred
full fat milk.”

  Righto.

  Not much to say to that. Vivienne smiled and nodded, they were now engaged in a business discussion as opposed to the intimate picnic she thought they were enjoying. All her fault, too.

  Daniel gazed away into the distance.

  “You know, another time, when it’s convenient, I’d love to have a tour of your processing plant, see how it operates, how you actually make the milk. I think it’s fascinating.” Her words sounded hollow and lame.

  “What about you, Vivienne, I know you work for the big bad bank.” He laughed in a fake manner, perhaps an attempt to force the conversation around. He turned back to face her. “But what else?”

  Through force of habit, Vivienne paused. This always happened, the moment where she weighed up how much to tell.

  Despite the stilted conversation about his business, she was comfortable in his company and trusted him, even though she couldn’t say why, a gut reaction was all she relied upon. As she knew oh-so-well, her gut didn’t always serve her satisfactorily. Now she looked toward the creek and listened to the gushing water before responding. “As you’re aware, I’m a lawyer. I’ve worked at the bank since being admitted. I do love my job, Daniel. I usually work in the drafting department, so all day long I write words and check contracts and avoid confrontations like I’ve had here in Rosebrooke.”

  He didn’t respond, so she kept on. “I live in Teneriffe, a trendy inner-city Brisbane suburb, have a cat named Ginger and I love antiques.” Stopping, she wondered if that would suffice. Would he be satisfied with that tiniest titbit of her life?

  Looking at him, he waited for more. Taking another sip of her champagne and tasting a further strawberry, she figured she had little to lose, right? She would talk of her mother, that came easily, and so Vivienne launched into the sad tale of her mother’s life, leaving out only the hardest of details. Some things remained too difficult to talk about.

  “I’m sorry that you’ve lost both of your parents, but particularly your mother, it’s obvious that you were close to her.”