Patrick felt as though an hourglass had been implanted in his chest, the sand trickling through the narrow neck with ever-increasing speed. His visits to Springbank changed from once a day to any chance he could get. He wasn’t ignorant of his responsibilities at Wiruna and made sure to never leave his dad in the lurch, but when an opportunity arose to get away, Patrick took it.
If he wasn’t sitting with Maddy, he was helping Nicola and Grant with sorting and packing the house and sheds. He kidded himself that the Handrecks appreciated the extra hand, but from the way they looked at him sometimes it seemed they were more exasperated than anything.
Stiff. This was for Maddy and them whether they liked it or not. Other than easing their burden a little, Patrick didn’t know any other way to say goodbye. Or thanks. They’d once welcomed him to the family, celebrated his love for their daughter, and treated him like a son. Patrick wasn’t about to forget it. Or Maddy.
He cut his dinners with Tash to Thursday nights only. He would have cut that too if she hadn’t insisted she needed his help to clear up all her leftovers. Patrick wasn’t convinced that was true. She seemed to serve a lot of meals cooked from scratch while he was there. Simple serves of grilled meat or fish, pastas and stir-fries, with plenty of salad or vegetables. Healthy food, and nothing like her usual range of meat and butter-laden dishes, giving Patrick the suspicion he was being nursed. He wouldn’t put it past his mum to have asked Tash to keep an eye on him. If he weren’t so distracted, he’d have challenged Tash about it. Either way he was grateful, and her constant cheerfulness soothed his aching heart.
That didn’t stop Patrick feeling awkward around her, after her revelations about Mitch Green. The depth of her feelings for Mitch still surprised him. There was no way Mitch was right for Tash—everyone had thought so. Yet the deep hurt in her voice had been unmistakable. Hearing her describe Mitch’s faith in her, the way he’d made her feel adored, had made Patrick all too aware of his own failings. He’d complimented Tash hundreds of times in his mind, thought how talented, clever and gorgeous she was, but the words he’d said aloud could be counted on one hand. It was a wonder she wanted to spend time with him at all. That she was doing so had to be down to her innate kindness or as a favour to his mum. It wasn’t because of his charm, that’s for sure.
Fortunately, Patrick had plenty of excuses to keep his distance. After several discussions with his dad and Grant, and then the bank, Patrick secured the financing to lease Springbank’s remaining few hundred acres. With its shared boundary to Wiruna and productive land, it made sense. Patrick had argued to include the house but it was kept separate from the deal. No one wanted him rattling around with Maddy’s memory, especially on his own. Once the move was complete, the house would be placed with an agent and advertised for lease.
The thought of strangers at Springbank sat uneasily on Patrick’s heart. It seemed like another letdown. He’d always clung to the secret hope that he and Maddy would make their future at either Wiruna or Springbank, the way Tash’s parents had done at Castlereagh after Baz handed over management to Peter. Those secret dreams were gone though, like so many others.
June arrived, and with it the last trickles of sand through Patrick’s internal hourglass. Boxes were stacked high in every room at Springbank, some labelled for transport, others for storage. Peter Ranger had used his flatbed truck to take several loads to the dump and deliver unwanted clothing, manchester and other goods to Emu Springs two charity shops. An uncharacteristically subdued Tash had taken the last of Maddy’s saddlery and horse gear, while Patrick’s mum and Liz shared pot plants from the garden.
The week before, Grant had made a rushed trip to the Sunshine Coast to sign the lease on a small townhouse, collect the keys and hire a secure storage unit. His return kicked off a domino fall of activity. Maddy’s specialist transfer to the hospice was confirmed, along with the removalists, and the house placed with a real estate agent. Several farewell gatherings were held—dinners with friends and family, a party at the bowling club. Tears flowed, along with plenty of laughter and promises to stay in contact. Patrick attended none, choosing instead to sit with Maddy.
Each visit he did what he’d always done and slipped her ring on her finger. The Handrecks had shaken their heads at it but kept their opinions to themselves, which was just as well. The turmoil in Patrick’s head and heart was barely controlled as it was. Staying engaged to a person not only unaware of his existence but who would also soon be living half a continent away was absurd. He knew it, everyone else knew it too. But how did you break that kind of pledge when the very person you made it to, who you’d promised to love and cherish forever, no matter what, was lying helpless and unable to fight back?
So Patrick kept putting it off. He simply sat and absorbed Maddy’s face, and with a cracked voice talked about the past, all the wonderful times they’d had, the love they’d shared and how much it had meant to him.
On the morning of the last day, heartsick and haggard with sleeplessness, Patrick slipped Maddy’s ring on her wedding finger and held her hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He swallowed, searching for more words. ‘I know I never said it enough but you were my world. My world, my dreams, my future. Now you’re leaving and I feel lost because I don’t know if this is right or wrong. I’ve tried so hard to see what you might want, to work out what would be best for you. What’s about you and not my selfish honour, but I don’t know.’ He blinked at the sting in his eyes. ‘I just don’t know and I’m so scared, Maddy. So scared I’ve let you down. That somewhere inside you’re screaming at me to help you stay. To not abandon you.’
He pressed his face to her hand. ‘This is not what I ever wanted. If I’d been allowed I would have taken care of you like I promised I would. But the decision was taken from me and nothing I said or did could change it. Now all I can hope is that your mum and dad are right and that this place might help you come back to them, even if only a little.’
He sniffed and lifted his head to stare at the face he’d once worshipped, his fingers on the hard edges of her diamond ring.
It was time.
‘Forgive me,’ said Patrick. Closing his eyes, he tugged gently and began removing the ring for the final time. As it hit the resistant ridge of her knuckle, Maddy’s fingers curled, locking the ring in place.
Patrick’s eyes flew open. ‘Maddy?’
Heart thudding, he studied her face then her hand. Already the fingers were loosening. It was probably coincidence. There’d been many lately. He’d been over-sensitive to them, seeing a sign in everything she did because he was so desperate, when his rational mind knew these movements were spontaneous and random. This was no different.
Except the fear Patrick carried wouldn’t let him listen to reason.
He sat, torn between his head and heart. Needing to say the words that would break them apart, unable to get them out.
‘Patrick?’
He glanced up. Nicola was at the door. ‘I’m sorry, but we really need to start preparing Maddy.’
He shook his head and stared back at his fiancée and the symbol of faith and love that remained on her finger.
‘Please, son.’ It was Grant, already crossing the room, as though Patrick’s response to Nicola had been anticipated.
‘I can’t.’
Grant closed a fist over his shoulder. ‘I know it’s hard, but you have to.’ He waited but Patrick couldn’t move. The grip on his shoulder tightened. ‘Don’t make this worse.’
‘Here,’ said Nicola, lifting Maddy’s hand from his. ‘Let me help.’
With a deft tug, the ring came off. She held it out to Patrick in her open palm.
He ignored it. ‘It’s hers.’
‘Patrick …’
He scraped his chair back and stood, feeling sick. ‘No. It’s Maddy’s.’
Grant and Nicola exchanged a look.
Nicola spoke hesitantly. ‘Wouldn’t it be better—’
‘No, it wouldn’t.’ He inhaled deeply in an effort to calm himself. ‘It’s hers. Always will be. Take it with her, so she knows … so she never forgets that she was once my world.’
Without looking back, Patrick escaped through the French doors. He walked fast across the terrace and the yard, and took the track down past the shed. Wind flicked his hair and tugged his jumper, and froze the tears he couldn’t stop shedding for everything he’d lost.
He stopped at a gate and surveyed the land that was now his to care for, reaching for calm he wasn’t sure would ever be his again. It was irrational, but the curl of her finger haunted him. As though she refused to allow that one last indignity.
Patrick breathed in the metallic tang of winter. Nature carried on around him, oblivious to his pain, continuing its cycles of birth and death. Regret wouldn’t stop it, neither would guilt. Whatever the past, life would go on. Just as his would.
He’d only really loved two women in his life. One he would lose today for a second time. The other wasn’t even his to lose, and might not ever be. If he and Tash did get together she still had dreams that could take her far from him. Patrick wasn’t sure he could cope with that again.
Except he would. It was the way life worked. You endured.
Patrick tilted his head back to take in the sky. Clouds raced on the wind and whipped shadows across the land. He felt as flailed as they were, buffeted by forces he had no control over, and hadn’t known how to fight. And where had that left him? Broken and weak and scared. Not the man Maddy had fallen for and definitely not the man he wanted to be.
And absolutely not the man a girl like Tash deserved.