Wayward Heart

by Cathryn Hein

  Em screwed up her nose. ‘Not something I want to contemplate.’ She dragged a buttered and papered cake tin close to the bowl and began spooning mix into it. ‘What about your love life? Still set on celibacy?’

  ‘Sure am.’ Although the truth was it was getting harder and harder. Jas missed sex—the silly messy fun of it, the intimacy and pleasure. But most of all she missed the comforting care of a relationship.

  Digby tempted her more than she could say, and several times in the garden, in the kitchen over coffee, or on the clear days when they’d carried sandwiches down to Admella Beach to watch the ocean, she’d come close to giving in. Then Jas would remember that it wasn’t her that Digby really wanted, and how far she’d come in her own journey. Sex with Digby was fun, which would be fine if she could separate her emotions from the pleasure, but she couldn’t. One broken heart a year was enough.

  ‘What about Simon?’

  Jas sighed and toyed with the sultana she’d picked up, avoiding Em’s gaze. The more time she’d spent with Simon, the more he’d proved to be kind, good-humoured, and a loving father. And his attraction towards her hadn’t waned.

  ‘I went out for a drink with him after work the other night.’

  Em stopped spooning. ‘You did?’

  Jas nodded, still not looking at her.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He’s nice but …’ She shrugged and held out her hands. ‘You know.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘I’m not really interested.’

  Em frowned. ‘Then why go out with him in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know. Because he asked me so many times I couldn’t say no anymore?’

  Except that wasn’t even close to the truth. She’d done it to test how free her heart was but all it had proven was that, as appealing as Simon was, Digby still gripped it tight.

  ‘He sounds a good man, Jas,’ said Em, sliding the cake tin into the oven.

  ‘He is.’

  ‘But he’s not Digby.’

  Jas stared at the mutilated sultana. What was there to say? Of course Simon wasn’t Digby, no one could be, but what was the point in lamenting the fact?

  The sultana disappeared as Em began wiping down the bench. ‘He visits often now.’

  Jas looked up at the change of subject. ‘Who visits?’

  ‘Digby.’

  Her mouth dropped. ‘What? Here?’

  Em ceased her wiping. ‘He never told you, did he? He promised me he would. I didn’t mention it because it was such a big step for him. I thought he’d want to tell you in his own way. Because you were once …’ She hesitated. ‘Close.’

  Jas shook her head. ‘He never said a word.’ They never discussed intimacies like that. Not anymore. Jas had made sure of it. Intimacies led to places she wasn’t ready to go. ‘He goes to visit the quarry, doesn’t he? For her.’

  ‘Yes. I think he’s still trying to make sense of it. The way he lost her.’

  ‘Do you think he ever will?’

  ‘In time.’ She glanced out to where Josh was working. ‘Josh swears he already has, but I don’t know.’ Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted upward, to the hill.

  Jas knew the question Em was asking herself because she was silently asking the same. ‘So why keep coming?’

  Em’s gaze returned to Jas and she smiled. ‘I suppose you could ask the same of his visits to Admella Beach.’

  ‘Vested interests.’ At Em’s frown she clarified. ‘His garden. He wants to make sure I don’t stuff it up.’

  ‘Or maybe it’s you.’

  Jas wished she still had her sultana so she could throw it. ‘It’s not like that. We’re friends.’

  ‘Which you were before, and look what happened.’ She clasped Jasmine’s wrist and gave it a little shake. ‘You want him, Jas, and I think he wants you. Perhaps it’s just a matter of one of you making the first move.’

  ‘Then what? I fall in love all over again and for what? Nothing. A bit of sex, someone to watch re-runs of Doctor Who with, a few laughs and no love because his heart still belongs to her.’ With the last word she jabbed her finger towards the hill. ‘It’d be Mike all over again.’

  ‘Digby isn’t Mike.’

  ‘No. He’s something far worse.’

  ‘Digby? Worse than Mike? I know he’s my brother and I’m biased, but come on.’

  Jas said nothing.

  ‘Jas?’ Em braced her forearms on the bench and leaned forward to peer at her. ‘You can’t be serious. Can you?’

  ‘It’s the truth, Em. I can’t go back, not with Dig, no matter how much I want to.’

  ‘But why?’

  Jas rubbed her fingers over her eyes. She felt tired now. Tired and worn down and discouraged. ‘Isn’t it obvious? Because he comes here to see her. I bet he still visits her grave all the time too. And I don’t blame him for still loving her, truly I don’t, but I can’t risk it. I’ve come too far.’

  ‘Oh, Jas, those things are just his way of working through his loss.’

  ‘Yeah, and that’s good. I’m glad and I hope he finds the peace and happiness he’s looking for.’ She flared her hand over her chest. ‘But I need peace and happiness too, and I can’t do it with someone whose heart belongs to someone else. Mike was bad enough, but Digby has a power over me Mike never had.’

  ‘He wouldn’t hurt you. You know he wouldn’t.’

  ‘Em,’ said Jas, holding her friend’s gaze, ‘he already has.’

  Which was why when she arrived home, Jas was dismayed to find Digby’s farm ute parked alongside the garage and the man himself at Oxy’s fence, giving the horse a thorough head scratch.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she said, wandering over with her hands shoved into the pockets of her parka.

  Digby shrugged and continued to dig his fingers into the space between Oxy’s ears. The horse’s eyes were drooped in ecstasy at the attention. ‘Finished at the farm so I thought I’d drop by.’

  Jas nodded and scanned the sky. Low grey clouds were chasing one another, bellies fat and dark. Rain was coming. ‘I have an assignment due in a week. I wasn’t planning to work in the garden.’

  Digby dropped his hands, suddenly awkward. ‘Right.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and surveyed the yard. ‘Next week then?’

  ‘If you want.’

  He pursed his mouth. ‘Something the matter?’ He tried a smile. ‘Other than me turning up unannounced.’

  Jas sighed. She did not want to be having this conversation, not on the heels of what she’d just learned from Em. For a while she’d been careful with her hope that, over the long term, she might feel safe enough to make the transition from friendship into something serious. Digby seemed to be giving plenty of signals he was ready but now it was clear the attraction was garden-variety sexual tension. Exciting and fun until some poor sucker got hurt.

  And as before, that poor sucker would be her.

  ‘No. It’s just me,’ said Jas. ‘Too much to do.’

  ‘Know the feeling.’ Digby regarded his feet for a moment. ‘I like being with you, Jas. Home is …’ He lifted and hand and dropped it. ‘I don’t mean to be a bother. I’ll leave you to it.’ He gave Oxy’s head a final rub and began walking away, only to stop and pull a plastic bag from his coat pocket. ‘I nearly forgot.’ He walked back and handed it to her. ‘I saw this and thought of you.’

  The bag contained a DVD, the latest Doctor Who Christmas Special, complete with bonus material. Jas would have bought it already, but with the money she’d been spending on renovations and the garden she’d had to curtail treats like this. It wouldn’t look good for a future financial adviser to be behind on her mortgage.

  She stroked the cover, feeling stupidly emotional. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Maybe we can watch it some time. When you’re not studying.’

  ‘That’d be good.’ Jas slid the DVD back into the bag and smiled.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, and cleared his throat when the word came
out husky, ‘some other day when you have a free hour or two, you’d also like to check out Tyndale?’

  Jas sucked in a deep breath. ‘Sure. How does next Saturday afternoon suit?’

  Saturday was one of Jasmine’s rostered mornings at the building society. With Digby’s farm in the opposite direction to Admella Beach, she didn’t bother returning home to change, lobbing up at Tyndale still dressed in her skirt, blouse and heels, and full make-up. Not exactly suitable attire for touring a farm, but there was a change of clothes in the boot, and having stripped in the back of horse floats and behind screens made from draped horse rugs on plenty of occasions on the show-horse circuit, a farm shed posed no fears.

  Digby—looking old-school agricultural in a pair of work jeans, long leather pull-on boots, battered oilskin coat and Akubra hat—regarded her outfit with apprehension.

  Jas poked her tongue out at him. ‘Don’t fret. I brought something more suitable. I just need somewhere to change.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  He led her into the large blue steel shed close to where she’d parked. The massive roller doors were open, exposing bays filled with neatly arranged farm equipment and what she assumed was stainless steel wine-making paraphernalia, along with a bright green tractor.

  The last bay of the shed was blocked off with unpainted particleboard sheeting, which held two separate doors. Digby pushed open the first and stood aside for Jas to peek inside. ‘This is the lab.’

  The room was small, perhaps three by three metres, with a white bench and built-in cupboards running around two walls upon which sat important-looking electronic machines, glass vials, and other scientific apparatus.

  ‘What’s all that for?’

  ‘Testing sugars, alcohol, pH, that kind of thing. There’s a fair bit of chemistry involved in making wine.’

  ‘And you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘Not really. But I’m learning.’ Digby walked to the next door and pushed it open. ‘Lunch room.’ He pointed to another door at the rear. ‘Loo and bathroom through there. I’ll leave you to it.’

  When Jas emerged she found Digby leaning against his ute, staring at some red and white cattle grazing near the road.

  ‘They look healthy.’

  ‘Yeah. Ashton didn’t run much stock so there’s plenty of feed.’ He straightened and looked her up and down. ‘That’s better. You look like you now.’

  ‘I looked like me before.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m just used to you … you know.’ Digby reddened slightly as he realised the hole he was digging himself into, and Jas suddenly cottoned on that he was nervous, which was weird. ‘Come on. Time to see the important bit.’

  The vineyard was behind the shed, on a sheltered slope running down to a small, sweetly meandering creek. The vines were dormant, their leafless canes pruned and tied to tightly strung trellis wires in orderly arrangements. To the right, a stretch of land had been ripped into vertical lines and spiked with new trellising and garlanded with lengths of poly pipe. Beyond the creek, where the land undulated into the distance like a green ocean, ancient manna gums formed majestic patterns with their gnarly branches and old sheep trails formed dark doodles against the verdant pasture. The region around Levenham had always been known for its bucolic beauty, but this was something else.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ said Jas at the breathtaking view. ‘Like something out of a fairy tale.’

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘I’m not sure “like” is the right word.’ She smiled. ‘You must be so proud.’

  ‘I am.’ Digby sucked in a breath as he surveyed his realm. Pleasure, maybe even satisfaction, lit his handsome face. ‘I should have done this a long time ago.’

  ‘I guess you weren’t in the right headspace for it.’

  ‘No.’ He held eye contact. ‘But I am now.’

  For a long moment Jas couldn’t drag her eyes from his. The connection shot her pulse racing. There was meaning in his words, in the heat of his gaze. She recalled Em’s contention that Josh said Digby had come to terms with losing Felicity, and felt a surge of hope. Then his attention dropped to her mouth and in that single movement the connection faltered. Jas blinked and studied a curving vine, rubbing her upper arm. So he wanted to sleep with her? That was hardly new. She wanted to sleep with him too but that didn’t mean it was wise.

  She indicated the newly ripped area. ‘What are you putting in there?’

  ‘Chardonnay. I’ve already started.’ Seemingly as eager as Jas to escape that awkward interlude, Digby strode towards it and ducked down a row. He gestured to a series of vines that looked not much more than dead sticks. ‘Did these yesterday.’

  Jas screwed her nose up. ‘Are you sure they’re alive?’

  ‘Don’t be fooled by their looks.’ He crouched down in front of one of the vines and pointed out a series of small lumps. ‘These are the dormant buds. That’s where the new growth will come from in the spring. As the shoots develop, I’ll train the most vigorous up the trellis.’

  She did a quick mental calculation, multiplying rows by the number of vines, while Digby pulled out a weed and tossed it aside. ‘It sounds like a lot of work.’

  ‘It is, which is why I’m starting off small.’ Digby straightened and dusted his hands on his jacket. ‘I don’t expect to make anything off the vines for a while. Fortunately the rest of the place is productive enough to earn its keep.’

  He trailed towards the creek, chatting about his plans as he walked—the trial plot he intended to establish of lesser known varieties he thought might do well in the location, but that no one else had tested; cutting-edge viticultural techniques he wanted to implement; the oenology course he was considering.

  With each elaboration Digby’s confidence seemed to grow. There was passion in his voice. Spirit.

  His enthusiasm increased as he drove Jas around the remainder of Tyndale. He pointed out paddocks he intended to renovate, areas he wanted to fence off for native plant regeneration, sites for a couple of new dams. When they’d covered most of the property he took her to a crest near the northern boundary where the view stretched wide and magnificent, and shyly admitted that this was where he’d like to build a home.

  ‘That’s a long way in the future though.’

  ‘Why wait?’ asked Jas. Clearly he loved Tyndale, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to build.

  ‘Too much of a distraction. I want to concentrate on getting everything else right first.’ He stared towards Rocking Horse Hill, a dark peak in the distance. ‘I guess it’d be lonely too.’ Digby glanced at her and quirked his mouth. ‘Camrick has its moments but at least there’s always someone around.’

  ‘And your mum’s cooking.’

  ‘That, too.’

  They shared a smile and again Jas felt the stirring of feelings she was trying her damnedest to keep suppressed. This Digby, with his strange mix of confidence, sheepishness and passion, was confusing her. She found it disturbing that he’d chosen a property where the hill could be seen so easily. Before her chat with Em, Jas had imagined he’d want to be far away from that hated memory. Now it was a distant but ever-present reminder.

  Accident or deliberate homage? Jas desperately hoped the former, but bitter experience suggested the latter.

  An opinion that would take more than a farm tour and Doctor Who DVD to change.

  CHAPTER

  30

  Digby took a sip of tea and squinted across Jasmine’s garden. There was still an enormous amount to do: pavers and edging, plants to fill gaps in the understorey and add colour, the pond he’d decided would look good near the pergola. What was here made him proud though. Not of himself, but of Jas.

  Pride wasn’t the only emotion in his heart these days. Something far bigger and life-changing had lodged there. Something he’d never expected to feel again. Not with this intensity, but it was there. More incredibly, as he worked and laughed and enjoyed his too-short time with Jas, it kept growing. Now the feeling was
so dominant every second spent with her risked it bursting out and ruining their resurrected friendship.

  He slid a look sideways. Jas was perched alongside him on the edge of the timber deck, feet dangling, their denim-clad thighs and jacket sleeves almost touching. She was gazing fondly at Ox, who was resting near his fence, eyes droopy with slumber and bottom lip hanging like a sulky child. Jas’s skin was pink from the morning’s exertion, one cheek marked with a stripe of potting mix from the ornamental grasses they’d planted out earlier around the new pergola edge. Thanks to the sea breeze, her ponytail had developed even springier curls. The band holding it had loosened and tendrils had escaped to dance around her face. In the midday sun her eyes were deeply blue.

  He’d once loved a woman with eyes even bluer, but that was before, in the time when he was different.

  In the time when he was lost.

  Jas blew a kiss at Oxy and slid forward to stand up, but Digby snagged the end of her fleece jacket. ‘Sit for a while.’

  She tossed him an amused look. Not that long ago she wouldn’t have granted him even that, but in the weeks since Jasmine’s visit to Tyndale something had changed. She’d softened towards him, become friendlier. ‘Too much to do, as you pointed out on your arrival.’

  He had. He’d come straight to Admella Beach from the vineyard where he’d spent the early morning seeding a specially formulated pasture mix between the rows of his new chardonnay vines. His mind should have been on his task, on schedules and expansion plans. Instead, as he steered the narrow tractor and seeder, all he could think of was Jas.

  She was enjoying morning tea when he arrived. Coffee and a fat slice of carrot cake she’d bought from a CWA fundraising stall, savouring its delights with her unique brand of gusto. There were crumbs on her lips and she’d continued to make moaning noises with each bite in an attempt to tease him into joining her in a slice. Digby couldn’t have eaten if he was starving. His stomach was too knotted at the sight of her mouth and half-closed eyes, and the memory of the sounds she used to make when they were lovers.

  To cover up he’d faked impatience, muttering something about seedlings drying out and striding off to begin planting the border. Anything to get away, because another moment longer watching her eat and months of careful control would have been destroyed.