Heirlooms and Ancestors
John followed his father to the master bedroom where his mother was perched on the edge of the bed, her face blotchy and red, her breathing laboured. A small brown box balanced on the skirt stretched over solid thighs.
Bloody hell! Was there anyone John hadn’t upset?
‘What is it, Mum?’
‘John, darling, sit down.’ She patted the space beside her.
‘I’d rather stand.’
‘You always were headstrong.’ She tried to smile. ‘Your father and I want you to know we both understand what it’s like to be young, to feel urges and have women left, right and centre who are happy to attend to them.’
‘Urges? Mum, are you kidding me?’
‘No one is kidding here,’ Marjorie replied, smile gone. ‘There are things your father and I have not shared, and while I never thought I’d need to make these decisions for you, I’m intervening, as is a mother’s right.’
‘A mother’s right?’ John looked to his father for support, but Colin stood to one side, the usual gag in place. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You’re young, with your whole future in front of you. If only we could be as certain about Ivy-May’s financial viability and survival without Katie and, eventually, her family property.’
‘What are you saying, Mum?’
‘Whether you agree or not, whether you like it or not, you will secure our future by marrying Katie O’Brien.’
‘Aw, Mum, you can’t be serious.’ John’s only urge was to laugh, but his mother’s expression stopped him. ‘You’re actually telling me who to marry?’
‘You’re a grown man with responsibilities.’
‘And I’m meeting them. I’m still here, aren’t I?’
‘You’re our only son and heir.’ Marjorie crossed herself, her hands ending in prayer, her face tilted towards Heaven as Colin patted her shoulder.
‘Then be grateful I’m not a Richardson and running off to another country to marry a Balinese woman you’ve never met.’
‘Your father is heartbroken you’ll throw everything away on a whim.’
Colin Tate certainly seemed more subdued, more compliant than normal, but broken-hearted? John didn’t see that in him. ‘What whim?’ he asked, ‘Mum, Dad, there’s never been any question. My life is here on Ivy-May. What makes you think that’s changed?’
‘Ava.’ His mother spat the name. ‘Your relationship with that woman will ruin your life and everything your father and I want for you. Her kind will never be content in a place like this and you’ll end up alone and the laughing stock of Candlebark Creek.’
‘You’re making this up out of nothing.’
‘I know more than you realise, and why do you think city families pay us so they can play farmer for a few days? Small towns are a nice change and life on the farm a novelty, but a short stay is all people want.’
‘Not Ava. She loves me and I love her.’
When his mother slapped a hand over her mouth to contain a gasp, John grabbed the opportunity to get a few more truths off his chest and shocking his parents with how long the affair had been going on right under their noses.
‘And what about Katie in all this? You promised yourself to her.’
John spluttered, ‘I never did!’
‘Then you’ve been leading her on all these years, making her think she means more to you, while all your planning and dreaming together has been nothing but a lie. I don’t understand you. You’re not the son I know. If you don’t make a move, Katie could be the one walking away and we could lose everything.’
*
John was the one walking away – out of the house and far away from his parents and Ivy-May. The home he’d grown up in, rooms bursting with happy memories, was suddenly the last place he wanted to be. Unsure what to do, John knew only that he had three choices: he could wallow in self-pity and give in, throw a tantrum and prove he was a child, or he could saddle Paddy. If anything could centre John, it was his horse and a long ride out to the ridgeline. As if sensing his need, Paddy lifted his nose from the paddock grass and started towards the stables.
*
He longed to push his mount into a full gallop to experience those brief moments of upward floating when all four of the horse’s feet were off the ground and he coiled his hindquarters for the next stride. But John would no more treat his horse with such indifference than he would the people he loved, and he did love Katie, in a way. He just didn’t want to marry her.
At the end of the road John turned Paddy towards Mount Hedlow, then onto the ridgeline, wind rushing a face stinging with tears, his mouth parched. When he felt as if his heart was about to burst, he pulled up his horse. Once out of the saddle he collapsed on the ground, never minding the dried horse manure and fresh cowpat. He felt like shit anyway.
His mother was right: he had let Katie down. He’d been selfish and stupid and let her believe they would work together to build the best bed-and-breakfast. How could he not think she’d expect more from their relationship? She’d dropped a million hints and he’d batted each one away with Bradman-like skill and consistency. Then there’d been the skimpy tops and bikinis, the provocative poses and smutty comments that had made John laugh. As a teenager, he had welcomed the flirtations of various girls, including Katie, but besides her being three years younger, he simply wasn’t into her that way. One day he’d even told Katie he might save himself until he was married, hoping that might turn her off him. He never did tell her about Suzie Stuckey one New Year’s Eve a couple of years back. That experience hardly counted as sex.
‘Well, John Tate,’ she’d responded, ‘let’s see how you go with that.’
He hadn’t thought another female would come into his life and make him see that a man and a woman don’t simply slip into a future together, like his parents had done after Marjorie’s family had dragged their daughter to a country town at fifteen. The first boy she met, she married five years later. Ava had shown John that love was something incredible, to be savoured and cherished. Even if Ava left him tomorrow, he’d never settle for anything that didn’t come close to what he felt for her, and when he found it – if he found it again – he’d never forget what he and Ava had shared.
‘Love?’ his mother had said, during their heated debate in the house earlier. ‘No matter how much you might think you love Ava now I see only heartache once the passion fades and she outgrows you. Marriage,’ Marjorie had said, ‘is about compatibility. You and Katie are close in age and you share the same dream. She loves you deeply, John, and she’ll be there, supporting you, content with being a good wife.’
‘And a wonderful mother,’ his father had blurted, distracting Marjorie from her monologue and earning him a warning look.
‘Shut up, Colin, leave this to me.’
Her snapped response had done little to support Marjorie’s argument for marriage. John was about to say so when his mother’s next statement had muted him.
‘Give her this.’ She’d scooped up the small brown box from her lap. ‘Marry her before somebody else does.’
‘Take it,’ his father had urged, delivering the package to his son. He uncurled John’s clenched fingers and placed the box on his palm. ‘Hold on tight. The pearl in that came from the waters of the Torres Strait, at the very top of Queensland, in the late 1800s. That ring in your hand was your great-great-grandmother’s and her name is engraved on the band. Incredibly, Ivy May only met your great-great-grandfather, George, on the day she disembarked at the Rockhampton wharf in 1865 after sailing from England, even though they’d travelled all the way together. Twenty years later they found land right here in the Basmorra district where they kept dairy cattle and raised pigs.’
‘I know all this, Dad.’
In a rare show of authority, Colin held up a hand to silence his son. ‘One of their eight children, secured these three parcels of Basmorra scrub country when the government surveyed the area in 1908. A dense vine scrub and patches of belah, which they had to cut by hand and burn before they could plant lucerne to sell in Rockhampton, covered the landscape for hundreds of miles. Our ancestors worked hard, built the original homestead on the ridgeline and made this place the biggest and most productive property. The town grew and prospered because of their drudgery. You can stand there rolling your eyes at your heritage, son, but tell me this. Do you want the town’s history to state that John Tate ran off for love, left a trail of broken hearts, and lost the land that generations of hard-working family members toiled on?’
‘That’s not fair. We’re not about to lose our land.’
‘Life’s not always fair, John,’ Marjorie piped up. ‘You don’t know everything and you’re certainly not as grown-up as you believe. Your father and I know what’s best. Give this ring to Katie and marry her, the sooner the better, before someone else does.’
‘Dad?’ John implored. ‘Ava and I—’
‘Ava has her own dreams,’ Marjorie interjected. ‘I’m sure if she loves you as much as you do her she’ll have already told you her future is in fulfilling her father’s wish that she go to Italy. It’s true, John, ask her.’
‘I don’t have to ask. She’s told me everything.’
‘You and Ava were meant to meet, son, I have no doubt about that,’ Colin said.
‘Finally,’ John muttered. Some sense of compassion!
‘Sow your oats with her,’ Colin continued, ‘have your fun, then say goodbye. But keep those desires under control. Don’t discard the partner who’ll endure life’s storms year after year for the one who’ll leave you with nothing.’
John had never before heard his father say anything like that, and he’d never seen him cry before now. Even Marjorie showed a rare side of her when she stepped forward to rub her husband’s back.
‘Listen to your father, John, and the future of Ivy-May will be secure. Marry Katie and we’ll hand the property over to you on your wedding day. We won’t delay the big day. Your only other responsibility is a grandson to occupy me in my retirement.’ Marjorie had smiled. ‘Do this, and in the years to come, when you and Katie have your dream business and you’re teaching your own son about the land and his heritage, you’ll thank us and see it was the right decision.’
Flies buzzed on the nearby cowpat and the sun bore through John’s flimsy shirt. His face was hot and wet. He’d stormed out of the house without a hat and no desire to return for one. He didn’t want to be anywhere near his parents right now, and he couldn’t see Katie until he was calm and thinking clearly. His mother was right about one thing. He wouldn’t delay making the commitment. As he made to stand, the ring he’d crammed into the front pocket of his jeans dug into his groin. He dragged the small box out and stared at it. Some of what his mother had said in the bedroom was true. Katie was a huge part of his life. He was surprised Marjorie hadn’t played the guilt card and brought Peter’s name into the discussion. Maybe she had when she’d insisted a grandson would complete her life. Although he had been too young when his older brother died to remember him now, John had been forced to fulfil the role of both sons all his life. Marjorie had never got over the pain of losing her first-born.
Now John understood love and the ache of loss. He knew the love of a woman and he loved Ava. He didn’t want to say goodbye. But his parents had been right about Ava wanting to travel and that he hadn’t been fair on Katie.
Time to come clean and man up, John mate, and do what’s right by everyone.
The little brown ring box was clenched in his hand. Flipping it open was like lifting the lid on a hundred and fifty years of his family’s toil. He stared at the ring with its wreath of diamonds irregularly set, like sparkling stars orbiting a pearl moon at the centre. Overwhelmed that it had adorned the fingers of women who had loved their husbands and given their lives to working this land alongside them, John stood up. He scanned paddocks crying out for rain and crushed brittle blades of grass between calloused hands while the weight of his legacy leached into his veins. John Tate was a proud fifth-generation farmer. It was all he’d ever wanted to be. Even knowing that a landscape like this would throw up unknown challenges in the years to come, he was ready and willing to meet every one. Now he needed to bring his legacy and his future together.
‘You know what you want, John,’ he said, feeling the ghosts of his ancestors all around him. ‘And you know what you need to do.’
To regain everyone’s respect he’d have to pull out the big guns and apologise. He had to ‘grow up’, as his mother would say and, as Katie would say, ‘stop making an arse of yourself and make a decision.’ It would be the right one, best for everyone. But he had to do it his way and that meant getting away from family pressures and any inducements that might change his mind.
He looked skyward, as if waiting for a sign, then scoffed. ‘What are you doing, John mate?’ He didn’t need some supernatural power to prove he was making the right decision. What he needed for the task ahead was the fanciest hotel he could afford.
Afterwards, they’d come home and he’d buckle down to make Ivy-May the productive property that would make his parents and those ancestors proud.