The song ended. Saul released her hands and stood an arm’s distance away. Needing something to focus on other than wanting to again feel his touch, she checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed any work calls before the next song started. This time the set was a progressive barn dance and all too soon Saul twirled her and she moved on to the next partner in the circle.
As she danced with Hewitt she tried not to notice how well Saul moved and how much his smile altered the serious lines of his face. After another twirl she was on to a new partner. In some cases the next twirl couldn’t come soon enough. When Joe’s idea of personal space didn’t match hers, her pointed stare had him move further away.
After dancing with Denham she was back to where she’d started in the circle. Numerous masculine hands had held hers and rested at her waist but when Saul’s arms reached for her it was as though she’d come home. Throat tight, she placed one hand on his shoulder and her other in his. When his fingers closed over hers with such care, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. Dancing with Saul was so much more than a physical connection. His touch stripped her bare and triggered emotions that refused to remain orderly.
Staring at a fixed point on his chin, she willed herself to complete the required moves. As if from a distance, the music stopped. Saul’s arms lowered and she felt the loss of their warmth and protection as though he’d pushed her away.
She gave what she hoped passed as a regular smile and then, calling herself a coward, she slid her phone out of her pocket and walked away as if she had a message to listen to.
Once away from the busy beer and cider stalls she abandoned any pretence of listening to her voicemail and returned the phone to her shirt pocket. The further she walked into the car park, the more the music faded and the brighter the stars gleamed above her. She inhaled the soothing scent of eucalyptus and forced her tense shoulders to lower. The charade was over. She had to stop pretending.
From the beginning Saul had affected her like no man ever had and she’d never been able to regroup. As much as he made her feel as though her world was spinning, he also gave her the strength to not always have a plan. Edna had been right; there’d been another reason why she’d had her hair cut. She’d been subconsciously testing him.
She’d wanted him to treat her differently when she wasn’t so glamorous. She’d wanted a reason to find fault with him. It would be the only way to stop the disintegration of her defences. Instead he’d treated her the same regardless of how she looked. He’d proved he valued her friendship, and who she was as a person, more than her outward appearance. And by doing so the damage he’d done had been immeasurable.
She reached the vet ute and leaned against its solidity, her hands fisting as her eyes closed. What she’d felt for Charles had been a young and naive infatuation. What she felt for Saul was intense, agonising and soul deep. It was an emotion that if she didn’t recognise and accept she’d have no hope of controlling.
Her breath emerged as a ragged sigh. As if from a long distance away her mobile rang.
She loved him.
Saul didn’t wait for any signal from Denham that he should go after Ella. To anyone else nothing would have appeared to be wrong. Her smile contained its usual serenity and she was the on-call vet so it made sense that she might have to up and leave. But he knew better.
When he’d first clasped her hands, her tension had been unmistakable. Then as the song had progressed the tilt to her chin had lowered and the stiffness of her spine had eased. He’d kept a close eye on her as she’d progressed around the barn dance circle, especially when she’d danced with Joe, but she’d seemed to remain comfortable. It was only when she’d returned to him that tension had again vibrated through her.
The conclusion was unmistakable. Out of all the men here tonight he was the one who still made her feel wary. As much as he believed they’d cleared the air between them, the truth was they hadn’t. The thought that he still unsettled her unleashed his emotions and locked his jaw. She was supposed to feel safe with him. Strides long, he headed out of the pavilion. He’d cleared the brick entrance when a figure stepped in front of him.
He stopped and met Noel’s cool grey stare. Noel didn’t speak, just took a swallow of his coffee.
Saul folded his arms. There was no point denying his intention was to follow Ella.
‘Give her five minutes,’ Noel said, voice low and firm. ‘If Ella had to leave because of work you won’t hold her up. If she didn’t … give her some space.’
‘I’ll wait for three.’
Noel simply took another mouthful of coffee. His attention never left Saul’s face. A tense silence lengthened between them. As talkative as Edna was, Noel could say nothing but still communicate as effectively as his wife.
His eyes glinted. ‘If you state the obvious and say that my wife talks more than I do, it’s back to five minutes.’
Saul allowed himself a brief smile. ‘Three minutes is up.’
Noel didn’t move. ‘Ella’s like a daughter to me. I won’t have her hurt.’
‘As I said before, I’m an old bull rider with a bison farm to run.’
Noel held his gaze before stepping aside. ‘For an old bull rider you sure walk fast.’
Saul nodded before continuing on his way. When he’d bought his cupcakes, Penny had mentioned that Ella was the on-call vet this weekend. So he’d kept watch for when she arrived in the vet hospital vehicle and parked near the exit.
Once away from the beer and cider festivities, the glow of the portable lights illuminated his way through the rows of cars. The flash from a phone and Ella’s quiet voice then had him detour to his left. As he drew near Ella ended her call and slipped her phone into her shirt pocket before facing him.
She appeared to smile, but even in the gloom the strain tensing her face was unmissable. ‘My dancing night’s over. I’ve a pony to see.’
‘I’ve called it a night too.’
She reached for the door handle, signalling she had to get going. He thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and silenced his need to make sure she was okay. Even though her words had emerged flat, it wasn’t appropriate to engage her in conversation when there was an animal who needed her.
She slowly turned back to him. ‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘Of course.’
‘Where I’m going is on your way home. Hilda’s son and husband have cattle out on the stock routes so she’s alone. Her pony’s been unwell for a long time and she’s made the decision she doesn’t want him to suffer anymore.’
‘I can come and hold him.’
‘Thank you … Hilda’s upset enough as it is. It’s the farm on the left with the silver milk can for a mailbox.’
‘I’ll be right behind you.’
He headed to his F-truck before the emotion deepening his words would be apparent on his face. Not even the darkness would conceal his relief that Ella felt she could call on him.
He caught up to her on the outskirts of town and followed her tail-lights to the turn-off to Hilda’s farm. An elderly lady waited for them at the bottom of the sensor-lit garden, a torch in her hand. Grief already etched her face into haggard, worn lines.
After Ella made a brief introduction, Hilda turned on her torch and they walked over to a paddock where a thin, white pony stood with his head down. The rattle as he drew breath echoed in the still night air.
Without being asked, Saul jogged back to his truck and drove it closer so his light bar would provide some light. Hilda buried her face in the pony’s mane while she said her final goodbye. He stayed by his truck while Ella collected what she needed to euthanise the old pony from the back of the vet ute.
When Hilda was ready, she left the paddock. Without looking at either him or Ella, shoulders shaking, she retraced her slow steps to her farmhouse.
Ella sighed as he followed her through the paddock gate. ‘We’ve kept Buffy comfortable for as long as we can. He’s been going so well, but Hilda’s right … it�
��s time.’
When they reached the ill pony, he didn’t flicker an ear or attempt to lift his head.
Ella placed the tarpaulin she carried on the ground and clipped a lead onto the pony’s headcollar. She passed Saul the lead, stroked Buffy’s nose and then, expression solemn, inserted the first of the two needles she held. As the sedative and then the barbiturates took effect, Saul smoothed the pony’s neck until he relaxed and slowly sank to the ground as if in a deep sleep.
Ella spoke quietly. ‘I’ll leave a message for Denham. Hopefully he’ll be free to bury him tomorrow. Otherwise, Tanner might be able to.’
Saul glanced over at the two sheds on the edge of the pool of light. He’d earlier noticed a backhoe in the second one. ‘I can do it now.’
‘Really? It’s late.’
‘I’d rather Hilda didn’t have to come out in the morning and see Buffy like this, even if he will be covered by a tarp.’
Ella didn’t immediately reply and when she did her voice was husky. ‘Thank you. That will mean a lot to Hilda. I’ll take her his headcollar and see if she’d like him buried now.’
It didn’t take long for Ella to return. Keys glinted in her hands. ‘Hilda’s very grateful. She asked if you could please put him to rest between the two old gums. That was his favourite place.’
‘No problem.’
He waited for Ella to hand him the keys. Instead she stared at him before stepping forward to brush her lips over his cheek. ‘Your wife was a fool to ever let you go.’
Before he could respond, she pressed the keys into his hand, turned and disappeared into the darkness. The engine of the vet ute sounded before she drove away.
Once the red gleam of tail-lights had faded, he climbed into the backhoe and set about digging. The bone-dry ground was as hard and intractable as concrete. The clash of steel against dirt echoed his thoughts.
Trish wasn’t the fool; he was. He should never have rushed into marriage or mistaken convenience for a deep connection. He should have heeded the signs that Trish wasn’t the person he thought she was. Hindsight made for a cold and lonely companion even if it now helped him put his failed marriage into perspective. Unconditional love was just another term for being taken for a ride by someone you trusted.
He glanced along the road Ella had driven out on. As for who else was a fool, it was Charles. If there was anyone that should never have been let go, it was Ella.
His mobile rang from inside his pocket and he put it on speaker.
‘What are you doing?’ Denham’s voice questioned. ‘You sound like you’re on a tractor?’
‘Backhoe. I’m in Hilda’s paddock.’
‘That’s a shame. Buffy was a cracker of a pony. Ella still there?’
‘No.’ Saul paused as loud laughter erupted in the background. ‘How’s those dancing boots of yours holding up?’
Denham groaned. ‘Edna even talks when she dosidoes.’ Cressy’s voice sounded before Denham spoke again. ‘We’re heading back in. Talk to you tomorrow.’
Saul ended the call. As much as Denham had resisted having to dance, let alone partnering Edna, the smile in his voice confirmed he was having a good time.
Steel again warred with stubborn dirt and he focused on what he needed to do. After Buffy had been laid to rest, he returned the backhoe to the shed and tucked the keys away on the front doorstep. Despite the fatigue aching behind his eyes, as he drove home his thoughts refused to slow.
He couldn’t shake the unease that Ella wasn’t comfortable in his company. Despite her parting kiss and comment he couldn’t erase the memory of how rigid she’d been when they’d danced. He hadn’t imagined the connection between them. Only last weekend she’d been responsive and relaxed in his arms. They’d both also been comfortable about disclosing elements of their past as well as working together. Now it was as though their friendship hadn’t existed. And he missed it.
He passed a hand around the back of his neck. If he was honest, he missed more than just the easy companionship he believed they’d shared. He missed Ella’s laughter and her quick wit. He missed her smile that brought out the gold in her eyes. He missed her warmth and generosity that never failed to make the day a little brighter. He also missed having her fitted against him and kissing her until they both couldn’t breathe.
He crested the hill and her sandstone cottage appeared to his left. The light from her front veranda spilled into the night. He slowed, his hold tightening on the steering wheel. Tonight the soft beams weren’t just calling to Libby to come home. They were also beckoning to him. In the darkness of his world, Ella had become the light.
As much as she’d distracted him and as much as he’d fought to keep her at arm’s length, she’d brought him back to life. The fear he’d experienced when she could have been injured while working with his bison wasn’t the only intense emotion to have broken through his control. He also felt contentment and need, but most of all love. He’d vowed to never feel such things again but for the first time they felt natural and right. Gone were the doubts and whispers he’d put down to normal relationship jitters. When he was with Ella nothing else mattered.
Mouth dry, he looked away from the veranda light. But admitting how much Ella meant to him wasn’t going to address the return of her wariness. As much as he loved her, friendship remained the only thing on offer. There were still parts of each other’s lives that they weren’t yet ready to divulge. Neither of them were truly free.
CHAPTER
15
Ella shifted the basket she balanced on her hip into a more comfortable position as she took the long way round to the hills hoist clothesline in the back garden. A loud buzzing in the Chinese elm suggested that the swarm of bees from down the road had left the mailbox and found a new home.
While she hung up the load of washing, the sun warmed the bare skin of her arms and brought out the aroma of lavender from the purple garden border beside her. It felt strange to be wearing casual clothes on a Wednesday, let alone be doing her weekend chores, but she’d taken the day off. She stilled as a bee hovered close by.
She went back to hanging out her clothes. The first official reason for the day off was because Fliss, who was in Dubbo for secret wedding business, was collecting Violet’s granddaughter from the airport. Fliss would take Gemma to see Violet before dropping her at Ella’s where she’d stay until Friday. The second official reason was that next weekend was the museum opening and Edna’s surprise party and Ella had to finalise the guest list.
She rested the empty basket on her hip as she retraced her steps through the cool and green garden. As for the unofficial reason, for the past five weekends she’d seen Saul and would do so again this Saturday. After the high emotion of last weekend, she needed a day to regroup.
The core of tension that occupied her midriff after she’d acknowledged what she felt for him hadn’t eased. Somehow she had to find a way to act as though nothing had changed between them the night of the bush dance. As for when he’d helped her with Buffy, emotions raw and hovering far too close to the surface, she was lucky it was his cheek she’d kissed and not his mouth. She was also grateful she hadn’t said more than she had. She ran a restless hand through her loose hair. She never wanted to feel so out of control around him again.
Once inside she checked the guest bedroom and headed to the kitchen to take the feta and spinach quiche out of the oven. Tyres crunched on the driveway. She walked past the boxes piled at the back door of the sunroom. Violet still didn’t feel like sorting through any more boxes. Hopefully Gemma’s visit would restore her high spirits.
A tall brunette left the passenger seat of Fliss’s four-wheel drive. Gemma’s heart-shaped face reminded Ella of the photographs she’d seen of Annette and Libby. But as hard as she looked she couldn’t see any resemblance to Jeb. Perhaps it was from him that Gemma had inherited her height.
Ella crossed the lawn to meet her. Gemma’s quick smile was warm as she gave Ella a hug. ‘It’s so lovely to fi
nally meet you.’
Ella returned her embrace. ‘Violet’s told me so much about you.’
‘Thanks so much for looking out for Oma and for having me to stay.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
Fliss joined them and handed Gemma her duffle bag with a smile. ‘Your bag’s a little lighter now.’
Gemma nodded, her expression turning serious. ‘I hope Oma liked her presents. I would have come sooner if I realised how frail she’s become. She always tells me she’s fine.’
Ella and Fliss swapped glances. Gemma was studying medicine and it was just like Violet to not want to distract her granddaughter from her studies.
Fliss tucked her arm in Gemma’s. ‘You’re here now.’
As they entered the farmhouse Gemma looked around, her gaze soft. ‘I always loved coming here as a child, and so did Mum.’
A lump in her throat, Ella led the way through the cottage. She could only imagine Violet and Lloyd’s joy whenever Gemma and Annette had come to stay. Despite the loss of Libby, they’d remained a close and loving family.
She opened the door to the guest room. ‘In the boxes are some of your mum’s things that Violet thought you might like.’
‘Thank you.’ Gemma didn’t enter the room but instead turned to look through the open doorway behind her. Sadness turned the corners of her mouth down as she studied Libby’s untouched bedroom. ‘My Aunt Libby mightn’t have been here with us but I felt as though she was. Oma always sat a place at the dinner table for her.’
Ella answered with a single nod. When her brother had gone missing she’d stopped eating at the dining room table as she couldn’t bear to see his chair empty. He’d always sat opposite her, and even when young, there’d been a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. As much as Ella had been bookish, conservative and serious, he’d been outgoing, loud and a risk-taker.
The Boundary Fence (A Woodlea Novel, #7) Page 22