Unexpected Delivery

by Leanne Lovegrove

  “I was. I loved her very much and now it’s only me. If I think about that too much, it’s painful and lonely, but of course, I have my sister and if it wasn’t for life’s circumstances, we wouldn’t have found each other.”

  “She’s worth her weight in gold.”

  Vivienne readily agreed.

  “No special person in your life?”

  Hesitating only briefly and acting more out of habit, she said, “I don’t need a man in my life to make it complete.”

  Holding up his palms in defeat, Daniel said, “Whoa, I wasn’t suggesting you did, but it would be uncomfortable to be sitting here on this glorious Sunday afternoon with the rays beaming down on us and sipping fine wines and eating gourmet cheeses, if you had a fella at home waiting for you.”

  “For a farmer, you have a soft side, do you know that, Daniel? How is that possible? Aren’t all men who work on the land tough and intractable and, oh, I don’t know, macho?”

  Both laughed but she still didn’t answer the question.

  “First of all, I completely deny it. I am tough and mean. But, people around here will tell you I’ve always been different, particularly after my modern farming practices were implemented. That cemented my position as Daniel the different farmer. People don’t like divergence from the norm, it’s easier to criticise.”

  “True,” she murmured.

  “I think I get my softer side as you call it, from my family. I had a sister with Down Syndrome and watching her grow and develop and deal with the hardships her illness caused her, it was heartbreaking. And worse, of course, my parents cared for her, so it’s had a huge impact on all of us. She died and then, when your wife dies, life appears irretrievably changed.”

  The mood became solemn.

  Daniel shifted gear. “But, you didn’t answer my question?” He looked at her pointedly.

  She smiled. “I did, I said I didn’t need a man.”

  Shaking his head, “No, that’s saying you don’t need someone special, not that you don’t have one?”

  “Okay, to avoid confusion, I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She stared at him, gauging how to proceed. His eyes did not divert from hers, waiting on her reply.

  “There’s been someone special, for sure, I’m not abnormal. But the relationship didn’t work out and to be perfectly honest, I’m reluctant to become submissive to someone else, someone controlling me and my every move.”

  Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you think a loving relationship is?”

  “That’s the only sort I’ve borne witness to.”

  “That’s sad . . .”

  Vivienne could not help it, hackles crawled up her spine.

  Maybe he noticed the change of disposition. “What I’m trying to say, quite badly, is that not all men are like your father. You’ve haven’t told me all the details I gather, but not all men treat women like that or want to control them or be their master.”

  “Daniel, you are right, I know that. But how do you tell? How do you tell who is a good guy and who isn’t because at times, they all appear the same?”

  He nodded. “I can understand that. I guess, when you are prepared to, you need to take a risk and hopefully it pays off. Or when you get to know someone, there can be no doubt.”

  They sat is amicable silence. What she wanted to ask was—are you one of those good guys?

  “I never thought I would want to love anyone after losing Sarah. We’d grown up together, created a life, had children, it was a nicely tied up, neat package. Life isn’t like that though, is it? I blame myself every day for her death.” He immediately held up his hand, silencing her protests.“I’ve heard it all before, no offence, of course. I know, at an inner level anyway, that it wasn’t my fault, but in the deep dark hours of the night, those arguments do not work. She should not have been on that quad bike after such a downpour of rain, everyone on a farm knows they are dangerous in perfect conditions, let alone, wet and muddy. And to top it off, we have a farm that has steep gradients!” His words dripped with irony.

  If everyone who knew the land understood quad bikes were dangerous, Sarah would have too, wouldn’t she? Vivienne didn’t utter these words, she didn’t think they’d be helpful, but she suspected they were true.

  “Occasionally life provides freakish accidents and all those left behind can do is make up the pieces and push on.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke those words at the risk they sounded condescending, which wasn’t her purpose at all.

  Despite her worry, he said, “Yes, you are right. You’ve had to do it after a difficult childhood.” He stopped and looked at her but Vivienne didn’t correct him. “And the death of your parents . . .”

  “It’s not the same as losing your spouse.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s still loss.”

  A brief silence followed before Vivienne asked, “How did it go with the film crew? Was that all a bit strange?”

  Daniel chuckled. “Yes. Barbara may have regretted her decision after interviewing me. I answered her questions for sure, but I felt wooden and stiff, I must have come across that way.”

  “What, you weren’t your usual charming self?” Vivienne mock-punched him on his arm.

  “I think the footage around the farm will be brilliant. Hopefully they can weave some magic with all the science of it. I did see Barbara’s eyes roll back after I’d taken her through the process. But she soldiered on, getting everything she needed.”

  “When will it air?”

  “Not sure yet. I’m sure they’ll tell me.”

  Neither spoke then as a solitary cow came into view. Quietly it approached, paid them no heed and munched on the lush grass in the foreground to the creek. It raised its head at the chirp of nearby birds and ambled further afield when it had its fill to eat.

  Each regarded the other with a broad grin.

  “Speak of the devil. Lucky you repaired those fences. And mighty fine they look, too.”

  Daniel reached across and placed his hand on the back of hers. The sandpaper rough surface provided warmth as his touch electrified her, all zaps and tingles.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here, Vivienne, but I can say that I have not looked at another woman since Sarah died. I have not had any interest. The moment I saw you, I admit I was a tad preoccupied, I couldn’t help but notice your flowing red hair and presence. You have an air about you that is enormously intriguing. Now that my farm is safe, we don’t have to be enemies anymore, do we?”

  “We were never enemies, it wasn’t personal.”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. “Sorry, see I’m not good at this, but I’m trying to be honest. Life is too short, otherwise. You’re right, it wasn’t personal, but it’s hard to think straight when a drop-dead gorgeous woman tells me to pay up or lose the farm. Takes the romance out of it, right?”

  Shaking her head, Vivienne commenced her protestations, her guard slipping back into place without her realising. “I can’t, I don’t know, where can this go, what to do . . .” and she said all of that whilst in the pit of her stomach nerves swirled and her insides sang and the whole world appeared brighter.

  Instead of responding, Daniel leaned over and kissed her. The words gushing out of her mouth were silenced.

  This kiss was gentle, feather-light touches of lip on lip. Small, dainty kisses not resembling the passion from the other night. His hand clutched the back of her neck, one thick thumb caressing her check. He held her secure as she placed her hand on his waist.

  As they pulled apart, her fingers traced the outline of his face, down his temple and along his chiselled chin. He kissed her eyelids, trailing a line of butterfly touches down her face, reaching her neck where he nuzzled harder. Her head crested and fell with his stroke.

  Unlike the teenage mauling sessions she’d participated in as a young woman, Daniel never ventured south of her neck, didn’t touch her anywhere else and didn’t reach for a grope of her
bottom. And yet this encounter was more intense than any other she’d experienced. His touch on her face, neck, and his lips on hers, sent her erogenous zones into overdrive. It was intense and romantic and beautiful and it made her heart swell.

  Not only did she long for his embrace, she wanted to know him, what he liked and cared about and what he ate for breakfast. And everything else on top of that, too.

  Plus, this man made her feel safe and secure and cared for and never more than in this cocoon they’d created at their stream-side vigil.

  Together, they sat, kissing as the afternoon passed, until their lips were raw and dry and then, instead, he hugged her close, her back snuggled into his vast chest and held her tight. The silence just as intimate as their bodies did the talking.

  Vivienne closed her eyes and lived in the moment, never wanting the day to end.

  For the first time in forever, the cracks in her heart started to tighten, lessen and hope grew. She knew deep down inside that Daniel was different. Could the circumstances that sent her to Rosebrooke not only have irretrievably changed her, but could they have also given her a future—one that meant she might not be alone anymore?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sudden, loud banging made Vivienne pause. She held her coffee cup aloft, mid-sip and looked up from the newspaper she had been reading on her iPad.

  The bang occurred again, heavier and more violent on the cottage front door.

  Dressed only in her gown, she pulled it closer around her whilst her heart raced and her imagination escalated into overdrive. Her visitor didn’t sound friendly.

  It wouldn’t be the Lawrences, that situation had resolved. She heard that the Andersons had sold, so it shouldn’t be them either.

  Daniel? What could cause him to bang like that?

  There wasn’t anyone else she could think of.

  She tiptoed through the house in her socks and peeped around the curtains near the front entrance. A man dressed in a pin-striped suit paced the garden, his brow creased, eyes lurking and mobile phone held to his ear.

  Vivienne watched him put the phone down and dig deep into his trouser pockets. Extracting a key, he headed for the door.

  Racing to open it before he could, Vivienne kept it latched, the opening only centimetres wide.

  “Hello.”

  “You are here. I’ve been knocking and there’s been no answer. Open the door.”

  “Um, I’m sorry, who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Haven’t you read your emails? You’re out. Pack your stuff, I’m here to replace you.”

  “What?” She stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “I haven’t received any notification.”

  “Haven’t you? So sorry, but I’m here now and you aren’t. Open the door.”

  “Show me your business card.” Vivienne refused to be bullied by this young man.

  “Are you serious?” Shooting her a poisonous glare, he rummaged in the side pocket of his leather briefcase and reluctantly handed over a gold embossed card.

  Taking it through the slim space provided by the chains, Vivienne turned it back and front to ascertain his details. Two things went through Vivienne’s mind. One—good luck with the leather satchel out here in the country; he’d find no use for that, and two—her business cards did not resemble his. Hers did not contain gold lettering or fancy blue-coloured symbols.

  “Operations Manager?” she queried.

  Mr Zachary Gardiner crossed his arms, growing impatient with her.

  “Ms Greene, open the door. I am moving in and you are moving out.”

  “Okay, okay,” she conceded unlatching the chain and giving him entry. At least he did work for the bank.

  He bounded in like a dog unleashed.

  “As you can see, it’s early and I’m not dressed. Can you wait in the kitchen please? Then we’ll be able to clear this up.”

  He walked on through with no notice to her, saying behind him, “There’s nothing to clear up, but yes, best you get dressed. My work day has already started.”

  Vivienne dressed and entered the kitchen moments later to find him eating a croissant and drinking a latte. “Make yourself at home.”

  Offering her a look of derision and speaking with his mouth full of flaky pastry, he said, “There’s a pile of memorandum for you.” He gestured with his arm toward the dead tree on the sideboard. “Mortgages to draft and check. Looks riveting. Is that all you do all day?”

  Tiring of this little upstart, Vivienne responded, “And your job as the Operations Manager is more exciting, is it? What do you manage?”

  “Don’t you worry about that title, I’m on my way up. That’s why they’ve sent me here, to fix up this mess.”

  “What mess? Last time I checked, all was in order. The defaulters have been notified, two of them are paying their debts and the two others have different arrangements. There’s nothing outstanding in that respect.”

  “Really? Is that what you think? There’s lots more to do here, and I will do it and I’ll succeed and my reward will be promotion.” He continued eating and drinking, slurping the milk over the edge of his mug.

  “What are you, twelve?” she muttered under her breath so he didn’t hear.

  Bang on the second of eight o’clock, Vivienne phoned the bank.

  “What are you complaining about? You asked to be replaced?” She didn’t like the tone of her supervisor.

  “Yes. That’s correct, over two weeks ago, and you told me that no one else was available and to get on with the job and that is exactly what I’ve done. Now Jaycee or whatever his name is here telling me I’m out. Is that correct?”

  Being a compliant member of staff, this was a curious conversation for her to be participating in. She never had to make demands or become involved in heated disputes, especially with senior management. She was adept at keeping her head down.

  But now, she couldn’t go. Vivienne couldn’t leave Rosebrooke. Nausea turned in her stomach at the prospect.

  “This is not your job, Vivienne. Your position is in the Brisbane office and Zac will stay up there for the time being.”

  No matter what excuses she offered—work still in progress, unfinished business, best to follow through, relationships established—none of it stuck.

  Sheer frustration and the fear sitting in the pit of her stomach made her do it. She refused to budge.

  “What has gotten into you?” her manager bellowed. He’d never raised his voice before. “I’m disappointed in you Vivienne, and surprised, I have to say. I’m not sure what’s going on, but let me be clear. Unless you return to Brisbane and be back sitting at your desk by opening hours tomorrow morning, you will be receiving a written warning.”

  “What?” she almost whispered. “You can’t be serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve had no reason to discipline you before, but this can be the first time if you wish. Do as you are told and hightail it out of there. What’s gotten into you? Is it the country life?”

  Always one for the pursuit of right and wrong, even now, she expressed her outrage at the unjustness of the situation.

  “You know, of course, Mr Whipplegaite, that you cannot terminate me without three written warnings, therefore, I’ll take your threat as a verbal warning . . .”

  With his temper frayed, her manager exploded. “Take it however you like. I will personally deliver all three written warnings to you this morning in the pristine countryside if you remain a second longer.”

  The conversation became ridiculous and Vivienne ended it before she could utter words she’d regret. She hung up, clear on the bank’s position.

  “Nice one.” Zac had approached the study and listened to the conversation without her knowledge.

  Loser.

  Refusing to be weak, she would not show him her quivering knees or allow her voice to tremble. Turning toward the desk, she picked up a pile of folders. “These are the current matters, this one is. . .”

  Operation
s Manager Zac held up his hand and spoke over the top of her. “I don’t require a handover. I’m up to date, I’ve read all the files and Mr Watson has filled me in.”

  “Mr Watson?”

  “Yes, Mr Watson, the CEO of the McGuires Metropolitan Bank.” If his words could have been any more sweet, honey would have dripped off them.

  Vivienne stilled her shaking hands to avoid wiping that smirk right off his face.

  ##

  She admitted it. She panicked.

  In the utterance of a few, small words, her world collapsed before her.

  No job, no money, no independent means of support. Images of her mother swirled in front of her. A job led to financial security and independence; a well-paid position allowed for luxuries. She could not—would not—lose her job. At just the thought, bile rose in her throat.

  Whilst anger surged through her at the treatment provided by the bank—the employer she’d loyally served for five years, without so much as a blemish to her record—it was the prospect of being out of work that she feared most.

  Her mother had loved antiques. That is where Vivienne developed her taste for historical beauty. Henrietta had worked in the local antique store and studied history at night when she’d met Thomas Greene. Her father had allowed her to keep restricted hours at the shop, but her mother had not continued her studies—meaning she wasn’t at home to cook her father’s dinner or clean the house—and towards the end, she’d worked such few hours in the shop, they hadn’t bothered providing her with many shifts. The result being her mother had no access to her own money. Her father earned the household income and squandered it away on alcohol and gambling all the time blaming her mother for insufficient cash flow. Henrietta Greene couldn’t go to the corner store and buy a takeaway coffee or purchase a new shirt or medicine from the chemist without an inquisition from her father, and often, in the end, she never got the money anyway.

  No matter how Vivienne felt about Rosebrooke, the country and Daniel—even thinking about him brought an ache to her chest to sit there like a lump of stone—she would not jeopardise her job, her lifeline, her means of survival. Sure, she might now consider alternative employment when the heat had died down, but she would not be terminated. Even the thought of it nearly doubled her over.