Grace Under Fire, page 5
“I apologised for that.” She bit her lip, her voice a whisper of regret.
“I guess we’ll find out if I should apologise for telling you to engage your brain before your mouth.” But he’d worked out her gripe against him. Not just his refusal to talk to her after Danny’s service. But his absence. “The invitation to the farm’s still open.”
Her head lifted, her expression bewildered, and Ryan inhaled her fresh flowery scent, cursing himself for his instant weakness. Close enough to catch the faint whiff of coffee. Would she taste of it? If he laid his lips against hers, would he taste coffee or the woman? Insanity, given her prickliness.
“Not every family is cookie-cutter perfect like yours, Grace.” He released her when she flinched, disgusted with himself.
“When would it suit you for me to drop by?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll let you know.” Now he needed space. Wanting to make her problems disappear confused the hell out of him. “Don’t turn me into a barbarian in the meantime.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Grace recognised the brisk knock, winced at the squeak as the door swung open. Fixing it had been on her list of chores for yesterday. Before the bombshell had wiped her brain clean. A family joke—squeaking doors always dropped to the bottom of the to-do list. The crumpet popped up. She transferred it to a plate and turned around. “What a surprise. And without the kids.”
“You took off like a bat out of hell this morning.” Ella gave her a hip bump. “Don’t spoil your dinner.” An old rebuke.
“I skipped lunch.” Grace could have ordered a sandwich at the cafe, except her stomach had been as unsteady as a newborn calf getting to its feet. “If you want a crumpet, make it yourself.” Then she added another crumpet to the toaster and passed her plate to her sister.
“Charming way to treat a guest.” Circling the table, Ella took the chair where Grace had planned to sit.
“Why are you my guest?” Grace was half paying attention. Her first attempt to play neighbours with Ryan, and she’d blown it. The whisper in her heart was relentless. He left. Lots of local kids left for work.
Her sister ignored her question, dribbling honey on her crumpet and studying the room. “I like what you’ve done in here. The blue changes the whole mood.”
“I wanted to capture the sky on those perfect summer mornings,” Grace said. Where had Ryan woken up in the years he’d been away?
“An artist as well as a prospective landowner.” Ella bit into her crumpet. “How far have you got with your notes?”
Grace pointed to the spreadsheet on her open computer. “See for yourself.”
“Sources of direct cash: raw milk to the processor, cheese, the farm-stay cottage rented on average thirty-six weeks a year for the past two years, weekly classes in cheese making at the community centre in Casino and savings,” Ella read aloud. “You haven’t tallied up yet?”
“I’ve only just started.” Grace’s morale took a pounding just hearing the short list of incoming funds she’d identified. She’d probably stuffed up any chance of selling her skills to Ryan.
“The next item is interesting. Additional sources of cash: direct sale of own organic milk, upping occupancy of farm-stay cottage, organic eggs, private lessons in cheese making here. When did we buy chickens?”
“Next week.” Grace pulled a face. Would Ryan follow up on his invitation to tour his dairy? Would he even speak to her again? “I’m brainstorming at this stage.”
“Are you planning to sleep?”
Grace swallowed a mouthful of tea too fast and started coughing. She’d factored in sixteen-hour days, seven days a week for the next few years, but the prize was worth the effort. “I’m young, strong and not afraid of hard work.” Maybe if she apologised to Ryan again she might be able to convince him to pay for some of her farming ideas?
“You’re not talking hard, you’re talking punishing.” Ella held up her hand for silence, reminding Grace of their father. “Have you got a price for the farm?”
“I’m estimating around a million from a check of Stock and Station Agent sites last night.” She tried to sound casual, but the sum made her knees shake.
Ella’s nod confirmed she’d reached the same estimate. “The biggest issue is the deposit on the loan. Can you get that?”
“I’ll give it a bloody good try.” Grace had three months—thirteen weeks—and the absolute will to make it. Although she’d failed at mending fences with Ryan this morning. She’d need allies or at least no new enemies. He supported organic farming. She cringed inwardly at the resurfacing of her fifteen-year-old self shouting out her confused ramblings. She’d missed him, and some of her angry resentment lingered.
“We’ll help.” Her sister switched to her calm-the-clients’ contralto, her “have I got a solution for you” voice. “Jake will do the legals pro bono.”
Grace forgot her fight with Ryan. “I can’t—”
Her sister continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “That’s a gift from him to you and Mum and Dad. Next time you see him, you say, ‘Thank you, kind sir.’”
“Do I curtsy as well?” Grace flopped back in her chair, overwhelmed by the gift. “That’s incredibly generous.”
“I’ll bankroll you for the next three months.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Grace protested. “What about your new house?”
Ella reached a hand across the table to take Grace’s. “You might forget the money you transferred to me month after month when I was struggling on my own, but I don’t. What counted more than the money was knowing you had my back. Jake and I are more than fine. Let us do this for you.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Grace squeezed her sister’s fingers.
“That’d be a first!” Ella returned to her crumpet. “I’ll cover the money you normally pay Mum and Dad for rent, milk, utilities and cover all farm costs.”
“The cost of doing Dad’s labouring is already covered.” Grace grimaced. Whoever said confession was good for the soul didn’t have Ella as a sister. “I saw Ryan today.”
“Did he use some kind of hold spell?” Ella’s crumpet stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Not funny.” Grace’s surliness yesterday had invited the comment. Her plan to magnanimously offer her skills for a price had backfired stupendously.
“And?” Ella waved a “keep going” with her crumpet, and honey dripped onto the table.
“You’re as bad as Kit,” Grace muttered, reaching for a sponge. “Ryan said he owed Dad three months’ farmhand work. He and Dad have agreed he’ll repay the debt, starting when Dad and Mum leave the farm.” Another man would have taken the opportunity to forget the debt. Crazy to have this burr under the skin because Ryan was behaving honourably.
“Didn’t see that coming.” Ella’s ignorance allowed Grace to forgive herself a little bit. Her shock was reasonable, her ungraciousness unforgivable. Ella continued. “Did he say anything else? Did you know about it?”
“First I’ve heard. It’s the sort of thing Dad would do, and quietly.” Grace admired her father’s capacity to be generous after all the knocks he’d had. “Dad paid for Bluey to work for Mrs. Wilson for three months after Ryan left town.” She nursed her cup, still puzzling over Ryan’s choice of farmhand. Whichever way she looked at it, she couldn’t find an ulterior motive. “Ryan’s asked Bluey to do the three months here.”
“Ryan always was observant,” Ella said admiringly.
“What?” Grace demanded.
“I doubt there’s another labourer in the area you’d have allowed on the property. You’ll be here alone. You need to trust whoever it is. You might have sucked it up for a week or two to reassure Mum and Dad and to pretend you’d let Ryan pay off the debt. Then you’d have asked whoever it was to leave—but you love Bluey.”
“You know me too well.” Grace frowned. Ryan had left her with no way to say no. Her sister had never wavered in her support for Ryan. “Why are you so keen on Ryan?”
“Because he could be an ally. Give the guy a chance. Judge him by his actions. Stop rolling your eyes. His actions now. Are you the same person you were nearly a decade ago?”
“No.” Grace pushed her plate away and stood, then crossed to stare out the window. Everything she’d ever wanted was within sight: the home paddocks and—on the other side of them—the milking shed and main farmhouse. But her dream wasn’t just about working the land. This stretch of hills and river and sky were part of her. Turning to face her sister, she huffed out a breath and some of her jumbled emotions. “Danny’s death changed me.”
Ella cocked her head to one side, concern in her calm eyes. “How?”
“It taught me you need to be independent to be strong.” The grief had been visceral—wanting to shout at the sky, run until she was so exhausted she fell down, pinch herself hard so she’d feel something physical rather than the frightening emptiness and heaviness that wouldn’t let her breathe. “That you can only rely on yourself.”
“I’m sorry you felt so alone,” Ella said gently.
“It cemented when Smithhouse swindled Dad.” Grace made her second confession.
“Smithhouse changed us all,” Ella admitted. “I vowed never to let justice be bought. Smithhouse would never have stolen the land, except for an unscrupulous lawyer who misused the power he had to help Smithhouse.”
“Smithhouse taught me to mistrust offers that look too good to be true.” And never to share the farm with anyone. Her sister would worry about Grace’s isolation. Ella shared everything with Jake.
“It’s not a weakness to need people, Grace.”
“Love suits you and Jake. I’m not looking for that.” Her dreams for the farm made it impossible. “Independence, especially financial independence, is a strength.”
“You don’t have to prove to us you can make it alone.” Ella wanted everyone to have what she and Jake shared.
“To myself then.” People leave and people take, that’s what Grace had learned, and Ella’s happiness, like their parents’ marriage, was a rare and precious thing, but not for her. Grace returned to the table. “You’ve just proved I’m not alone. You and Jake and Mum and Dad are all on my side.”
“What have you got against Ryan?”
Grace searched for words to explain her complicated reaction to Ryan. “He left.” She held up her hands and dropped them. Saying “he abandoned me” sounded ridiculously melodramatic. “He wouldn’t talk to me.”
“And we’re a family of talkers.” Ella sipped her tea. “That’s the way we deal with disasters. We talk. Not talking doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Mrs. Wilson never talks about him.” Although she’d been pretty quick to credit him for getting organics included in the Northern Rivers Show today.
“I’ve often wondered why. Mum has too. She’s also wondered where Mrs. Wilson got the money to pay a deposit on her house in town, when the farm’s still in her name.”
Grace took another bite of crumpet and chewed. “You think Ryan’s bankrolling her?”
“Dad paid for Bluey’s first three months. Mrs. Wilson couldn’t have paid for Bluey all these years without help. Then she talked about wanting to retire. And hey presto! Ryan landed back in town, took over the workload at the farm, and she set up in town.”
Grace didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt and didn’t like herself very much for her lack of generosity. “The damn man convinced the show committee to include organics.” She couldn’t find an ulterior motive for his support with the committee either, and she wasn’t the only local to benefit. “One year he’s on the committee. I’ve spent ages trying to convince them.”
“Fancy doing you such a bad turn!” Ella marvelled. “I’ve just realised something else. Mrs. Wilson’s a proud woman. She must have been desperate to accept Dad’s help back then and to send Ryan away. I bet going was Ryan’s only option to earn enough money to pay the mortgage.” Ella’s conclusion landed like a kick from a cow, hard and fast.
Ryan was proud, and he’d admitted to desperation, not a confession she’d share with anyone. Grace had been so caught up in her grief about Danny and her need to talk to Ryan about Danny, she’d only seen that he’d abandoned her. Ryan had been the one truly alone.
“This morning Dad said Mum delayed because of him. They delayed because of me,” Grace confessed. Engineering their quick departure might go part way to addressing that imbalance.
“They delayed while they worked out what to do,” Ella said bluntly. “Dad acted pretty fast today calling Ryan. He’d go in a heartbeat if he believed you were on friendly terms with Ryan.”
“You think?” Grace’s reasons for resenting Ryan were starting to look petulant.
“Dad’s always liked him, and he respects what he’s doing now.” Her sister should have finished law. She built her case with evidentiary precision. “All you have to do is let Dad know you’ll call Ryan if there’s a problem. I thought you got on okay together when we were kids?”
“We did,” Grace drew out the words. Her relationship with Ryan had been unusual. Allies probably summed it up best, linked by an unspoken allegiance to Danny. As a kid she hadn’t bothered analysing her feelings for Ryan. Now she could admit liking and respect had been mixed with a bit of hero worship. Heroes weren’t supposed to abandon you.
“Dig for that feeling,” Ella hesitated. “In that hideous custody case when I was terrified we’d lose Tessa, my lawyer asked me three questions as part of the compulsory mediation before moving to court. What was my ideal outcome? What would I settle for? What could I live with to prevent the matter going to court?”
“My ideal outcome is working beside Dad for at least another decade.” Grace wasn’t ready to lose him. “And this won’t go to court.”
“Your question is different.” Her sister was relentless. “What compromises are you prepared to make to keep the farm?”
“Me? Compromise? Wash your mouth out with soap.” Her feelings for Ryan were more complicated than she’d admitted to her sister. His rejection of her after Danny’s death was just the start. His aloofness, his easy possession of land and influence when she was dismissed as a flaky greenie irritated her. The unwanted tug of attraction irritated her more. Her reaction to the irritation was to avoid him or needle him. “Have you forgiven Drew for trying to take Tessa?”
“The situations aren’t the same.” When Grace remained silent, Ella sighed. “Moved on is a better description. He’s Tessa’s biological father, Jake’s cousin, part of our lives. He ditched Chrissy knowing she was pregnant and reappeared when he thought he could profit from Tessa’s existence. He didn’t, doesn’t, really love Tessa. I don’t think he’s capable of love. He’s never apologised. That’s the hard part. But if you’re constantly looking for payback, you miss the moment.” Ella held Grace’s gaze. “Don’t miss the moment because Ryan didn’t do what you expected when Danny died.”
“I’m working on it.” Grace made a vow to work harder. “I’ll tell Dad I had a coffee with Ryan today. Thanked him for Bluey.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?” Grace knew where her sister was heading.
“Thank him for Bluey?”
“Not graciously enough,” she confessed. Like Ella, their father had always chided Grace for her animosity to Ryan. Even before Ella had told Grace about his probable contact with his mother, she’d seen him on his land. Seen the changes he was making, how he’d merged the Wilson and Donovan properties. How the improvements Mr. Donovan had made in his last few years on his farm had laid the groundwork for Ryan’s current activities. “You know which buttons to press.”
“Make nice.” Ella grinned. “I’ve seen you do it.”
“I love you too.”
“He was always kind, and you’re usually fair. He’s giving you Bluey.”
Fair! Justice and fair play were biggies in her family, even before the Smithhouse affair. Her parents’ integrity was reason to hold her head high. Ella’s attack stung and brought a new insight. Grace had hung on to her anger at Ryan’s departure as a way of coping with Danny’s death. She’d thought she’d shatter without Ryan’s support. Anger had provided a good substitute.
“They need to get away soon.” Her sister changed direction, and Grace struggled to catch up.
“I agree.” Her brain was turning slower than a hand-held butter churn. She’d miss Ryan again if he locked her out, and she’d spent less than an hour with him.
“Dad might stay a few more weeks if Mum is safe somewhere,” Ella mused.
“He wants to be with her.” Despite her reluctance to accept Ryan’s offer, Grace could see its possibilities. “I have an idea.”
“You’re always having ideas.” Ella grinned. “What’s this one?”
“The Blue Mountains. Jake’s aunt and uncle’s place?” Grace had spent a blissful few days there last year. Her only holiday in close to a decade.
“We had the same idea.” Ella snapped her fingers. “Jake’s going to talk to them today.”
“Dad said they planned to stay a few more weeks. They won’t like us organising their diary.” Grace hadn’t thought of a way to sugarcoat the suggestion.
“Are we? Dad lined up Ryan. He’s ready to go. It’s Mum who needs a nudge. Jake and I discussed this. We’ll ask his aunt to issue the invitation. And”—Ella smiled smugly—“we’ll add a sweetener. Me and the kids. I’ll go up for a few weeks with Tessa and Kit. The grandmas can bill and coo over them to their hearts’ content.”
“You don’t want to go to the mountains for two weeks. Jake won’t be able to stay with you.” Grace added up the sacrifices her sister was making for her.
“Sadly, no. He took leave for Kit’s birth. But it’s the best I can think of to help—the best we can think of to help,” Ella corrected herself. “Don’t go all early Christian martyr on us. It’s our turn to share the load, Grace.” She carried her plate to the sink. “I’d best get back to my babies.” She turned around when she reached the door. “I’d trust him with Tessa or Kit.”
