Chapter Twenty-Five
Gran obviously knew better than to say anything when Sebastian drove in just after nine o’clock that night. He hoisted the esky with the food out of the back seat and took it into the kitchen. Gran and Pop were sitting at the table, a pot of tea between them. He pulled out the ring and handed it to Gran before he went to his room, shut the door, and dropped onto the bed.
So she bloody cared about him, did she? But not enough to give up her dreams. Well, he’d made a right fool of himself, hadn’t he? He lay there with his arm over his face, remembering the horrified expression on her face.
Only a holiday romance, she’d said. And more fool him to think he could change it. Of course she didn’t want to be out here. Hell, he didn’t want to, either.
How could he have had the presumption to think that a simple declaration of love would change her mind? God, what a fool.
A gentle tap at the door interrupted his angry brooding.
“Who is it?” he snapped.
“Gran. Can I come in?”
“If you must.” Sebastian knew he was being rude, but he didn’t give a rat’s—. Gran had seen him worse than this.
She came in and sat down on the end of the bed. “So I’m guessing it was a no?” He’d left the small lamp on beside the bed, and he watched as Gran’s fingers lifted the tassels on the bedspread.
“It was an emphatic no.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. There’s no point.”
Her voice was soft and her eyes gentle as she looked at him. “You always were one to rush in, Sebastian. Even when you were the tiniest little boy. Your mother used to say that you would make your mark in the world, and she was right.”
He shrugged. “I had to ask her. She’s going on Friday.”
“I know. And Isabella will be on the same coach as us, and I guess I’ll have to sit there and watch her be as miserable as you are.”
“Why would she be miserable? “
Gran shook her head. “Because she loves you, sweetheart. She just needs time to realise that the way she feels about you will rise above anywhere you might live or work. Trust me, I know.”
A tiny glimmer of hope took root, and then he shook his head. “No, you didn’t see the look on her face. She was horrified that I even asked. I feel like such a bloody fool.”
He might as well have not spoken as Gran continued. “It is so much like Harry and me. He loved the land, but for me, a girl from the centre of London? Can you imagine what it was like coming out here? There wasn’t even a real house. Just the old two-bedroom place his father had built about thirty years before I arrived.”
“So your point is?”
His grandmother sighed.
“The point is—the big one that you are missing—is that Harry loved the land. He couldn’t leave it to save his soul. If I loved him enough, I had to come here and be with him. And I did, and I came to love it, too.”
“So you reckon if I persevered, she’d come to love it, too?”
Gran stood up and wagged her finger at him. “My God, Seb, you are so obtuse. Of course not. Do you know what the difference is?”
He shook his head, but he was beginning to get the point.
“I said Harry loved the land, and he couldn’t leave it. Now you tell me why you’re here working with Liam?”
“Because it’s the family farm?”
“Wrong answer.”
“Because you wanted us all to come home and live back here?”
Her voice was sharp. “No, I didn’t.”
“Oh yes you did. Two years ago.”
“I asked you to come back and share that year while your grandfather got back on his feet. It was none of my doing that your three cousins love this land as much as Harry does. That—now listen closely—doesn’t mean that you have to.”
“Hang on.” Sebastian focused on something she’d said. “You said the others love it as much as Pop does. What about you?”
“I love Harry,” she said simply.
“Oh.” The penny dropped, and he got what Gran was saying.
“There’s one more thing you need to know,” she said. “Your photographic success has not come through luck. You are a brilliant photographer because you work hard at it. You don’t have to stay here and prove to us that you have a strong work ethic. We’re proud of what you’ve achieved, Seb.”
“Really?”
“Of course we are.” Gran looked up at him, and he held his arms out. As she nestled in his arms, Sebastian dropped his chin and rested it on the top of her head. “I love you, Gran.”
“And I love you, my boy.” Her voice was gruff.
As he walked down the hall a few minutes later, he finally put it together. The very thing that was keeping them apart was what he admired most about Isabella. She knew what she wanted, and she had the courage to go after it.
And that was one of the reasons he loved her.
…
On Wednesday morning, Isabella was racking her mind, trying desperately to think of an excuse to get out of the barbeque at Lucy’s that night when the phone rang. Trying to come up with a reason had taken her mind off Sebastian. But apart from a broken leg, she couldn’t think of a way out of it. At least she hadn’t mentioned it to Dad, so she didn’t have to tell him they weren’t going.
“For you, Bella,” Dad hollered. She walked over slowly, looking at the old-fashioned phone as though it would bite her. She took the phone and Dad shook his head as he went back to his newspaper.
“Hello?”
“Hi Bella, It’s Lucy. Listen, I’m really cross.”
Isabella’s throat closed. Of course, she couldn’t expect to stay friends with Lucy after she’d rejected her cousin.
Family came first.
“Um, yes? I thought you might be.”
“Why? Did Seb ring you first?”
“Ring me?”
“To cancel the barbeque?”
“Um, no.” She hadn’t talked to Seb since he’d dropped her off three long days and nights ago. “Did you say cancel?” She clutched at the hope that she wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse after all.
“Seb’s gone to Sydney with Liam. Gran is busy packing, and Ned and Jemmy have a sports thing on tonight. So we thought that Angie, Jemmy, and I, and Ned and Jemmy’s kids would come in and have lunch with you tomorrow in town instead.”
“What about school?”
“It’s school holidays.” Lucy’s tone changed. “Didn’t you know Seb was in Sydney?
“No? Why should I?”
Disappointment replaced curiosity. “Oh, I was just hoping—”
“Nothing to be hopeful about there, Luce. I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you want to have lunch at the milk bar or the club?”
“How about the milk bar? Give your dad some business.”
“Thank you, that’s thoughtful of you.”
“And Gran said she’ll see you on the coach and will say goodbye in Brisbane.”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.” Isabella injected some life into her voice. “I’ll look forward to it. I’m packing now, so I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Okay, about twelve.” Lucy ended the call and Isabella walked thoughtfully into the kitchen. “You’ve got a crowd coming in for lunch tomorrow, Dad.”