by Kathy Bosman
Chapter Eleven
“In two-hundred metres, turn left.”
Ross obeyed the GPS mechanically although his heart and mind didn’t feel very automatic and relaxed. He couldn’t believe he’d done this—driven all the way to Bethal to fetch Ella without her knowing.
At Pauline’s insistence. Pauline, of all people, had advised him to fetch the woman. The woman who tortured him constantly. The one who’d probably push him away once he arrived. Or would she take up his offer of much-needed assistance?
“In one-hundred metres, you will reach your destination. Your destination is on the right.”
Ross turned right and stopped at the metal farm fence. He climbed out the vehicle and attempted to open the gate without assistance but it had been tightly bolted shut. He returned to his car and pressed the hooter soundly with his palm.
After a substantial wait of about two minutes, a farm worker opened the gate for him and he asked for directions to the farmhouse.
“Just up.” The man pointed to the dirt road.
He looked around at Ella’s gran’s farm as he drove up, impressed at the expansive fields. Although it was a small holding, there was at least a third of a hectare of land. People walked around and it seemed that the place teemed with life during harvest-time. Ella had to manage all these people without any assistance except for maybe Gran’s instructions from the bed because the farm manager had resigned.
Pulling his car in besides a couple of tractors and he presumed Gran’s car, Ross got out and immediately looked for Ella’s blonde head. Not around. He headed straight for the house and knocked on the door.
Ella opened it and stared at him, her face turning a healthy shade of pink, sending his whole body on alert.
“Ross? Is everything okay?”
“That’s what I came to find out.”
She frowned. “We’re fine. Gran walked to the toilet today without my help. She’ll be up and about, mostly, within a couple of days. Should there be something wrong?”
He indicated to come in.
“Oh, sorry, please come in. I’m just so shocked you came.”
“Pauline said you needed a lift home and that you’re struggling running the farm all by yourself.”
“Oh, that.” She touched her forehead. “Been rather hard.”
She was different. Sweeter, kinder, almost respectful of him. That familiarity they’d gained over the years and which had made her a little bossy at times had disappeared. Maybe just the shock of seeing him.
“Been rather hard? I heard you were up until two every night getting everything done.”
“Who told you…?”
“Pauline.”
Her frown deepened. “Really? Please come to the kitchen. I’ll make you a drink. We don’t have any snacks in the house. I haven’t had time—”
“Okay.” His heart ached with a need to comfort her, help her, and ease whatever burden she’d been carrying. “Coffee will go down well and a glass of cold water.”
“Sure.”
She worked with a certain fluster in her hands and movements. The flush in her cheeks remained. Could it be from lots of sun or maybe time outdoors? Her hair was messy and came out of the loose ponytail at the base of her neck but he’d never wanted her so much before.
“I can’t sit. Been doing that for hours.” Perfect excuse for coming closer. Scrutinizing her bare arms, he noticed scratches along them.
“You okay?” He pointed at her arm.
“Yes, I just helped with the harvest. We were running out of time sorting through the sorghum grain, checking for smuts and bugs and stuff.”
“What about the labourers? I’m sure your gran doesn’t do heavy work like that.”
“It wasn’t heavy. Just didn’t want to come across any spiders.” She shuddered but gave him a happy smile.
“You sure? Pauline said you were miserable.”
“I was a couple of days back. Now that I’m sure Gran is improving, I couldn’t be better.”
She poured the boiling water into a mug and the aroma of coffee filled the room. He helped himself to water from the fridge and gulped a glass down, then sat down to savour the hot drink.
She soon joined him at the wooden table and chairs with her tea. He gazed at her, longing clogging his throat.
“You look good.” The words tumbled out, so overwhelming was the thought.
“I do?”
No anger, no withdrawal; just a softness. A feminine touch he wanted to drink of, take hold of, and feel for hours.
“Yes, you have a light in your eyes, your skin is glowing. Farm life does you good.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought so on Friday when I was up to here in sticky, prickly grains.”
“Is the harvest done?”
She shook her head wildly, sending more stray strands of hair out the ineffective captor of her hairband. “Not nearly. We’re in the process of storing it. There was a bumper harvest this year so we had to purchase more storage containers. And some of the sorghum gets used as hay for animal feed. Those plants go through a whole other process.”
“Do the labourers listen to you?”
She shrugged. “They pretty much know what to do, anyway. I just can’t fix machinery.” She gave a sly smile. “Gran doesn’t know that I hired someone to fix one of her mowers. And how much I paid. Out of my own pocket.”
“What?” He reached for her hand close to her mug and pressed his on top, then promptly pulled back. Why couldn’t he exercise more self-restraint? “Why?”
“I didn’t have time to source a cheap repair or didn’t want to risk it so I just paid for it. Else, we would have had to hire a bunch more labourers to harvest by hand. As it was, they should have been finished all the harvesting by the day Gran hurt herself. We still had another whole section, besides the hay field which is easy—they just use a forage crusher.”
He watched how animated she got when she spoke about farming, of all things. How he loved the way she did so much for her gran, even using up her annual leave to work hard on her farm.
“You’re so kind to do this.”
She smiled. “I had no choice. Gran’s been barking orders all the time.”
“Are you ready to leave in a couple of days?”
She shrugged and her smile disappeared. “I hope so. She can walk to the toilet but what about the farm? Gran wants to sell it, you know.”
“You don’t like that idea?”
“Makes no difference to my life.”
She shrugged but he couldn’t be certain she spoke the truth.
“So, are you doing all right?” she continued.
“Fine. My house is coming along. Slowly.”
She took the last long swig of her tea and stood up. “I have to get back out there. I came to check on her but she’s sleeping at the moment.”
“Let me join you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but the flush deepened on her cheeks. “Um…” She looked down at his smart jeans and new trainers. “You’ll want to put something old and tatty on.”
“I’ll find something and join you in a minute. Where am I sleeping tonight?”
“Ross, you really should have checked first. I appreciate you coming all the way.”
She touched his arm and he drew closer to her instinctively.
“Just?”
“Well, good thing Gran has two spare rooms.”
“I could always sleep on the couch. Or in the barn.”
“Yeah, right. It gets cold here at night. This isn’t Richards Bay.”
He loved the cheekiness in her eyes, the spark. An electrical charge pulsed off her, drawing him in, but then she suddenly pulled away.
“Bring your suitcase in and I’ll open up and air out the spare room for you. The sheets haven’t been changed since Carol and Andrea stayed.”
“Sorry to burden you with another task.”
She shrugged. “Things have calmed down a bit now that the harvest is ove
r and some of the sorghum has dried out. At least we could keep our suppliers appeased for now.”
Our? She acted like she owned the farm. Was it her dream? Maybe better than that album and its strange magic. Yet, she loved making people happy. That’s what it was. She made her gran happy. Whatever she did, she’d thrive on. Well, almost anything. He’d always wondered about her receptionist job and how much it satisfied her.
He went outside to fetch his suitcase from the car and locked it up. Then he found her down the passage in one of the rooms. She gestured to him to be quiet. “Gran’s still sleeping.”
She opened the blinds and a couple of windows and fluffed up the pillows. “Hope it’s not too dusty.”
“I’ll survive. Not like I change my bedding all that often.”
“Ew.” She scrunched up her long nose and walked to the door. “Make yourself at home.”
She hesitated a second and he stood watching her while her presence filled the room and cloaked him. Then she was gone. He dressed quickly into shorts and a t-shirt without bothering to unpack, then escaped outside to find her. After some horizon searching, he discovered she’d already covered a considerable distance. She stood guarding a container with grain inside. A couple of men tipped wheelbarrows of grain into the container while she watched on like a true manager.
He came up behind her, unable to resist touching her any longer, and blindfolded her with his hands. She gasped and spun around, taking her breath in spurts, and looking very flustered. Had his touch had that effect on her?
“Ross, I didn’t expect you outside so soon.”
“You got quite far. I had to search for you. What can I do?”
“I don’t know. Check on the other container, make sure they keep coming with more.” She pointed to one about ten metres away. “And make sure they fill it to the brim. Gran says they must be packed tight so bugs don’t have room to thrive inside. We’re actually supposed to only do this in the morning when it’s drier but the air is pretty dry here at the moment, so I used my initiative and decided to make a day of it today—do some catch-up so when I leave, she has less to worry about.”
“You’re a farm manager now.” He spoke close to her ear, deliberately brushing her hair with his lips. She didn’t move away as he expected but remained frozen in place. The tension between them could be cut with a knife.
“I-I’m trying.”
“A cute one.” He ran his finger down her arm.
“Ross, stop flirting.” She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. He sensed less tension though, less aggression than before, as though she may actually want him to continue flirting with her. “Now, go do some work, will you. Seeing you came here early for that very reason.”
“Yes, ma-am.” He saluted her.
The next hour was yawn-worthy, to say the least. He had a couple of men come with wheelbarrows, but other than that, the only interest was the scenery and Ella’s legs in shorts. She waved to him to come over. In the afternoon sun, he’d developed a sweat and felt the heat upon his skin. The little breeze didn’t ease the stifled feeling. She pointed up at the sky and he saw a dark mass of clouds towards the east.
“Time to pack up,” she urged. “We don’t often seem to get weather here. Must come from the lowveld.”
“What about the grain?”
“I know. It definitely mustn’t get wet.” She scratched the top of her head. “I’m getting stressed here. What should I do?”
“Okay, let’s see. These containers—are they waterproof?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then we need to get them in the barn.”
“How?”
“What trailers do you have for the tractors?”
“Well, there’s a whole lot of equipment in the barn but I have no idea what it is. I steer clear of those type of things.”
He smiled tenderly. “You’ve done a great job on the farm so far. Come, let’s go to the barn.”
He walked briskly with Ella in tow and they entered the dim building, the sparse lighting compounded by the darkening sky outside. He squinted to take in what was on offer. After a few seconds, he could make out several trailers. One caught his eye but would still prove an immense challenge—a flatbed trailer with a nice surface area. But how would he strap the containers on? Then he saw it—a much smaller one with sides. It would probably fit only one at a time and the containers may still need securing.
“How many containers do you have? Just the two?”
“Um…there’re actually six.”
He peered back out at the darkening sky and shook his head. “Gee, this is tough. Don’t you prepare for weather?”
“We don’t usually have much rain here in autumn. Well, that’s what Gran said.”
“You still have to make sure.” He came up to her when he saw the distress on her face. “I’m sorry, Ella, you’re not the farm manager. You’re just—”
“I’m just?”
Close up, her eyes were doe-like and enchanting in the eerie light.
“Beautiful.”
His voice thickened and he moved closer. She didn’t withdraw. They were suspended in another realm, away from the stresses, ignoring the storm for a moment. He bent down to kiss her and felt the irresistible softness of her lips melt his body into a puddle on the barn floor. She whimpered and he pressed closer, taking her into a delicious embrace where her grassy and strawberry scent filled him, her hair brushed against his cheek and neck, and her sweet form stirred up arousal to the point of discomfort. He ran more kisses down her cheek, her neck, and back up to her mouth which opened up to receive his tongue. Fervent touch of tongues sent the world swirling upside down and back again. He didn’t want to stop for breath but eventually pulled away, still keeping her in his arms.
Thunder rumbles broke the haze of need, of pleasure supreme.
“We’d better make hay while the sun shines. Who drives the tractors?”
She spoke with a wobbly voice. “Several men here do but I have no clue where they are at the moment.”
His gaze zoned in on her plump, ready lips and he wished they could find time for more. Then it hit him. She hadn’t pushed him away. She’d enjoyed that kiss as much as he. Her flushed cheeks, the drugged look in her eyes, even her stance, told him she’d loved it. And maybe had longed for it. Sweet hope surged through his being, buoying him on.
“I’ll drive the tractor.”
“No, Ross, it’s not safe. Have you ever…?”
“I’ve driven a forklift.”
“That’s vastly different.”
“How difficult could it be?”
Another rumble shuddered through them.
“I’ll get the keys.” She ran off.
It took Ross and Ella, and eventually a handful of labourers who’d come to the containers, two hours to get the vats into the barn. Ella had covered the grain with large tent ground sheets from her gran’s garage in the meantime as the rain hadn’t waited for them. By the time they’d safely secured the six containers, the rain had stopped. Ella’s hairband had disappeared somewhere on the farm and her semi-wet hair hung like matted strings on her shoulders. Her mascara had run down in streaks and eventually washed away. Yet, she still held that healthy flush in her cheeks and her eyes shone. Until they went back toward the farmhouse once the sun had set and all the labourers had gone home. Then her eyes were circled by a frown and dark rings. The day had taken its toll.
Her body stiffened by the door. “I haven’t checked on my gran in hours. I hope she’s okay.”
“Don’t you want to bathe first and warm up?”
“I have to check. And tell her you came and what’s happened since.”
He nodded and went to find some hot water to freshen up his body. While he stood beneath the invigorating spray of the guest shower, he dreamed of the kiss.
But then his mind tortured him with questions and fears. Would she withdraw again? Had he pushed her too far this time? What assurance did he have she’d w
ant to commit to them long term? Gut feel told him the storm wasn’t over. Yes, the rain outside had stopped, but he had a feeling the thunder would still rumble through his life and relationship with Ella. He didn’t want to lose her. They belonged together. How could he have taken so long to realise it? And how did he convince her he was in it for good and he loved her more than anyone else ever could?
