Chapter Fifteen
“Have a good night, Luce?” Seb looked like the cat who’d swallowed the cream as the screen door slammed behind her. “Get all your work done?”
Her three cousins and her grandmother were all sitting at the kitchen table finishing off their cereal and toast. No bacon and eggs for this house. Maybe she’d have to think about cooking a hot brekkie for the boys before they went out to work each day.
Lucy had lived by herself since she’d moved to Sydney, and she wasn’t used to “the morning-after” post-mortems. Not by anyone, not unless she’d chosen to share her private life with a close girlfriend, which she hadn’t done very often.
And certainly not with her cousins, and even worse, not with her grandmother.
God forbid!
“Yes, I got a lot of work done over there.” Lucy ignored his teasing. “It was late when I finished my work and Garth had gone to bed, so I bunked down over there.”
Just a little white lie.
Heat ran up her neck as Liam stood and crossed to the sink with his cereal bowl, flicking the side of her face with his finger on his way past.
“Nasty rash you’ve got on your neck there, Luce. Tell Garth to buy some softer pillow cases.” He turned back to her with a knowing smile. “Or if needs be, I can lend him a razor.”
“Oooh. You two. Stop teasing.” Lucy glared at them, but her lips twitched. Since she was an only child, her cousins had teased her constantly as they’d grown up, and even though it had been a few years, she was well used to it.
And she loved them for it.
“Half her luck, I say.” Jemmy’s voice was soft as she looked up over her teacup. “Any more gorgeous neighbours live nearby?”
Lucy closed her eyes as Gran chimed in. “Leave the girl alone, you lot. It’s her business who she wants to sleep with.”
Heat flooded Lucy’s face and her hands shook as she filled a glass with water and tried to regain her composure. She felt sixteen years old again.
Gran continued, and Lucy almost dropped the glass in the sink. “Although Garth Mackenzie has certainly grown into a studly young man.”
Seb and Liam howled with laughter. “Way to go, Gran!”
“Studly!” Jemmy’s laugh joined the hilarity. “Oh, Gran, I love that word.”
“And you tell that young man of yours I owe him a big apology,” Gran said. “I was too quick to judge him. Invite him over for dinner tonight.”
Lucy put the glass down and turned to find four happy faces, all grinning at her. One week she’d been here, and it was the first time Gran had really smiled. She could put up with their teasing just to see that.
“I will, and then you can tell him yourself.” And then Garth could put up with some of the teasing. “What’s the plan for today?” she asked brightly.
“The boys are going to the back paddock to bring in the cattle we mustered yesterday, and then you girls can help weigh and drench.” This time Gran’s expression was challenging as she looked at Lucy.
“Great, I used to love helping Mum and Dad when they came out to work in the yards.”
Gran’s expression didn’t falter at the mention of Lucy’s mum. Things were looking up. Gran didn’t like any mention of the past. If Gran and Jemima could put up with the outside farm work, she’d do her best, too.
“But while they’re out mustering the other paddock, we are going to spend the morning baking.” Gran’s smile got even wider. “The hospital just called. Harry’s coming home late this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s fabulous news.” Lucy and Jemima smiled at each other.
“So get your skates on, girls. We’re going to cook up a storm.” This time she looked over the top of her glasses at Lucy. “And we’re getting a later than normal start.”
“Can we make your famous chocolate cake?” Lucy widened her eyes as she changed the subject. “Please, Gran, that cake is to die for.”
Gran nodded and pulled a piece of torn and stained paper from the pocket of her apron. “I’ve already got the recipe out for you two.”
Lucy scurried off to the bedroom to drop off her laptop and to wash her face in an attempt to relieve the flush of embarrassment.
The lighthearted atmosphere in the kitchen continued as they greased pans and weighed ingredients. Lucy looked at Jemmy as she washed bowls between cakes. The painted nails were gone, her hair was loose, a smudge of flour dusted her cheek, and she was humming along with the radio as she worked. No one would recognise Jemima Smythe of the Milan catwalk.
Dust was tinting the horizon in the far paddock where Liam and Seb were out on horseback. Their laughter had drifted in as they’d saddled up together. Prickle Creek Farm was healing each of them in different ways. What was it doing for her? She gazed out the window daydreaming about the morning with Garth as the smell of freshly baked chocolate cake filled the kitchen.
“Ice the damn cake!” Gran’s voice broke into Lucy’s reverie, and her head flew up. Jemima’s eyes were wide as she stared at Gran.
“I beg your pardon, Gran?” Lucy said with a frown. No one had ever heard a cuss word cross Gran’s lips, and Lucy and Jemima looked from Gran to each other until a little giggle came from their grandmother. “What did you say, Gran?”
Gran held up the recipe and waved the paper at them.
“See, the last line of the recipe says: cream the icing sugar and butter and then ‘ice the damn cake.’”
Lucy crossed over to Gran and wrapped her arms around her and dropped her head on Gran’s shoulder. “Oh, Gran, it’s so wonderful to hear you laugh.” Lucy fought back a sniff as tears threatened.
“And it’s good to have you all home.” Gran patted Lucy briskly on the back. “And I can laugh now that—” Gran’s shoulders sagged as she relaxed in Lucy’s arms and her voice broke.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy looked up at Jemima as fear chilled her blood. What else did Gran have to tell them? Was there more bad news to be imparted?
“Gran?” Jemima hurried across from the sink, wiping her hands on a towel before throwing it on the countertop.
Gran shook her head and dug into her pocket for a lace-edged white handkerchief.
No tissues for her, Lucy thought, even as worry flooded through her.
Their grandmother pulled away from Lucy’s arms, sat at the table, and dropped her head into her hands as sobs racked her tiny frame. Lucy and Jemima stood beside her, staring at each other in alarm, each with a hand on her shoulder as Gran sobbed into her handkerchief. Great gasping sobs came from her mouth, and she drew in deep breaths between each sob. Lucy crouched down, took the clean towel that Jemima pulled from the drawer, and gently wiped Gran’s face. Jemima held their grandmother’s hand. Lucy clenched her teeth as her throat ached with unshed tears. Finally, Gran spoke, and her voice was hoarse and trembling.
“I was so scared when Harry went to hospital. It brought back all of the memories of your mothers’ deaths. I was so sure he was going to die. I honestly didn’t know what I would do.”
“But, Gran, it was only a simple knee operation.”
Gran lifted her head, and her eyes were fierce. “Yes, but we’re old.”
Lucy let the first tear roll down her cheek as Gran reached for her hand and gripped it tightly.
“I couldn’t live without Harry. Since he’s been in hospital, it’s the first time I’ve ever been away from him at night. Ever. We’ve been together since I met him in Israel. I followed him back to the Pilliga and I didn’t even go home to London until we went there together for the wedding.” Her hand shook as she lifted the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Every decision since then, every moment of happiness, has been shared with him, as well as the horror of losing our three daughters. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him, too. I lay there every night imagining he wouldn’t come back to me. My life would be over, too.”
Lucy tilted her grandmother’s chin gently and looked at her. Gran’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her chin trembled. “Today is for a celebration, Gran. Pop’s coming home and we’re all here to be with you both.” She took a deep breath. “I know Mum and Aunty Carol and Aunty Jean would be happy if they knew that we were all here and that the farm was staying in our family.”
Lucy firmed her voice. “Our farm, our family. Let’s have a fabulous party tonight.”
Gran stared back at her. “But I still want you to invite your young man.”
“My young man? Gran, Garth and I are friends, nothing more. He’s helping me with some work.” Lucy shook her head as heat ran into her face. “No, tonight is for family. I’ll ring Garth and tell him I’ll see him later in the week.”
Jemima took Gran’s other arm. “I think you need a lie-down and a lovely bath before Pop gets home. And then I’ll get out some of my war paint, find you a pretty dress, and we’ll doll you up.”
“I don’t think so.” Gran laughed, back to her usual pragmatic self. “A Bex and a lie-down will do me, and then we’ve got to drench those beasts before the boys go to town to get Harry.”
Lucy sat at the table with her head in her hands as Jemmy took Gran down the hall to her bedroom. The power of love was an amazing thing. For the first time in her life, Lucy craved to be loved like that.
But not out here in the red dust.
Garth’s face stayed in her head as she crossed to the sink and finished the dishes.