hurting, huh?’ Matt said. They were sitting on the edge of the veranda and he reached out and touched her face. It was a fleeting gesture, but it said, in some deep way, that he understood the distress she still felt whenever she thought of her mother’s pleas. The knowledge was enough to make her toes curl.
She concentrated fiercely on getting them uncurled.
‘I can forget about it here,’ she managed.
‘But you can’t stay here for ever?’
‘No. And Malley’s isn’t an option any more. But neither is staying away, I guess. My sister’s getting married on the seventeenth and Mum’s organising a family dinner on the twelfth. On Dad’s orders. To heal differences, he says, and he expects me to be there. He’ll blame Mum if I’m not.’
‘Surely you won’t go?’ He sounded appalled. That was how she felt but what choice did she have?
‘You see, I love Mum,’ she said simply.
She loved, therefore she did what was expected.
Matt was silent for a while. The night was closing in on them and somehow it felt...almost threatening? Why did this man make her feel so exposed?
‘I guess that’s why I don’t love,’ Matt said at last. ‘I won’t let myself need people and I won’t be needed.’
‘No?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘What about Lily?’
‘Lily’s different. She’s my kid.’
‘And this is my mum.’
‘And your mum should be protecting you, as I’d protect Lily. Penny, your mum’s an adult. She’s had a lifetime to form her own armour and maybe that’s what you need to do.’
‘That’s cruel.’
‘It is,’ he said gently. ‘But your mother’s made her own choices and maybe it’s time for you to do the same. You only have one life. Will you spend it trying to please your family? Being a doormat?’
‘What’s the alternative? Carrying a bucketload of guilt for the rest of my life?’ She tried to say it lightly but failed.
‘So you’ll go back to your mum.’
‘I might.’ But she knew she would.
‘Maybe your mum could come to you?’
‘What, here?’
‘Maybe not. It’d be a bit of a culture shock—from Sydney to Jindalee.’ She heard Matt’s smile rather than saw it. They hadn’t turned on the veranda lights and the darkness had crept up on their silence. ‘But Penny, if you make yourself a life, set up your catering company, do what you want to do... If your mum wants, then maybe she could choose to help you? Maybe she could live near you, on her own rather than in an unhappy marriage? You could help her on your terms rather than hers.’
‘She’ll never leave.’
‘Then that’s her choice,’ he said gently. ‘But it doesn’t have to be your choice. Attending the wedding should be your line in the sand. Maybe you should do something for yourself instead. Have a weekend in a fabulous resort. I’ll arrange it for you if you like, as a thank you for getting me out of such trouble at shearing. But, no matter what, just say no.’
‘Oh, Matt...’
‘You can do it,’ he growled and he rose and leant down and ran a finger lightly through her curls. The touch made her shiver. ‘If you can keep a mob of shearers happy, you can do anything. I believe in you, Penny Hindmarsh-Firth, so maybe it’s time for you to believe in yourself.’
And then there was another of those silences which fell between them so often. Mostly they felt natural. Mostly they felt good. But this one...
This one seemed loaded.
You can do it. That was what Matt had said.
Do what? What she really wanted?
If she really believed in herself, Penny thought, she’d get up from where she was sitting and she’d kiss this guy senseless. She might even demand he let go of his own ghosts and come to this luxury resort with her.
But she was Penny. Asking for love? She never had. She’d loved and loved and where had that got her?
You can do it.
Yeah, right. Not in a million years.
‘Goodnight, Penny,’ Matt said heavily then, as if he too acknowledged the impossibility of moving on.
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.
She felt sad. No, she felt desolate, but still she went inside and rang her mother. She said no and she meant it—and, despite the weird feeling of desolation, it felt like a beginning.
* * *
Two days later, the year’s wool clip was finally loaded for market. She saw the slump of Matt’s shoulders as he watched the line of trucks roll off the property. She thought of the work he’d put in, the late nights he’d pulled, the light on in his study until almost dawn.
And suddenly she thought...picnic?
She walked out to meet him in the driveway.
‘Well done,’ she told him.
‘The fleece is great. It feels a whole lot better than taking money from a bauxite mine.’
‘I’ll bet it does,’ she said and then added diffidently, ‘Want to come on a picnic?’
‘What?’ It was as if he hadn’t heard the word before.
‘You haven’t stopped for weeks,’ she told him. ‘Ron and Harv are rested. They can take over anything that needs to be done. Is there anywhere we can go? Somewhere you can’t see a single sheep? Honest, Matt, you must be seeing them in your sleep.’
‘If I fell asleep every time I counted them I’d be in trouble,’ he agreed, smiling faintly. ‘But now I need to get onto drenching.’
‘Matt. One day. Holiday. Picnic.’
And he turned and looked at her. ‘You must be exhausted too.’
‘If it’ll make you agree to a picnic, yes, I am.’
She met his gaze, tilted her chin, almost daring him to refuse.
Finally he seemed to relent. ‘There is somewhere...’ he said doubtfully. ‘But we’d have to take horses. The ground’s undermined by rabbit warrens and the four-wheel drive won’t get in there without damaging the ferns.’
‘And we don’t want that,’ she said, not having a clue what he was talking about but prepared to encourage him. And then she thought about it a bit more and said, less enthusiastically, ‘Horses?’
‘Do
