All vestiges of the Hannah who’d turned up two weeks ago had disappeared. Her designer clothes replaced by shorts and T-shirts. She no longer wore a scrap of makeup, no longer needed to. Her skin was naturally bronzed despite her rigorous sunscreen regime, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy. And the natural waves in her hair were back.
His fingers twitched like they longed to run through her locks, to circle around the curls that lay at the nape of her neck then give them a tug as he’d done so many times so long ago.
Grey forced his attention back down to the to-do list that filled half a page. The festival was a week away and they needed to go through everything and double-check [HN40]it was all sorted in order to make it a success. Anxiety rose and balled in his throat. This event meant so much to the Beetys and to the locals, he didn’t want it to fall over, to not work out. And while he and Hannah were working together best as they could, while to-do lists were being ticked off and everything looked like it would run smoothly, he couldn’t get over the niggle that Hannah might take off in the middle of the night. Leave him, and her family, in the lurch as she had all those years ago.
She may look like the old Hannah, may seem as dedicated to the farm, but that very same ‘old’ Hannah had been the one to run. Who was to say this more mature version of her wouldn’t do the same?
Hannah’s spicy, warm peach scent invaded his senses as she sat across from him with a satisfied sigh.
‘All done for the day.’ She pushed a chair out and raised her legs up, crossing them at the ankles. ‘I forgot how enjoyable it was working behind the counter. Serving happy faces. It’s like it’s impossible for people to be miserable when they’re eating a strawberry ice cream or a cream tea.’ She tipped her head back and stretched her elegant neck, tipping it to one side and then the other.
Completely kissable. Totally lickable.
Grey mentally slapped himself about the face. Idiot. There was nothing kissable or lickable or nibbleable about Hannah’s neck, or any other part of Hannah for that matter. And he’d be doing himself a favour in the long run if he kept reminding himself of that fact – even if the truth was that meant he had to lie to himself on repeat.
‘Grey?’
A hand, palm facing forward, was waved in his face.
‘You in there?’
He ran his hand through his hair – better his hair than Hannah’s – and faked a yawn. ‘Yeah, sorry. Just tired. All those early starts…’
Hannah followed up his fake yawn with a real one of her own. She stretched her arms over her head, interlocked her fingers, flipped her hands over so they were palm-up, and stretched a bit more.
Her T-shirt rode up with the action, revealing a hint of smooth skin.
Kissable. Lickable. Nibbleable.
Grey gritted his teeth and shoved the traitorous thought out of his head.
‘So, where are we at with everything?’ Hannah released the stretch and slumped forward on the table so as to see his notes better.
Grey turned to the notepad which, as far as he could see, was the safest place to put his attention.
‘The band hasn’t pulled out, and they’re happy to play a little longer since your father’s agreed to let us hire a stretch-tent for them to play under, which is good.’
Hannah’s hand went to her chest as she inhaled sharply. ‘Did you just say my father allowed us to hire something? To spend actual money? Wonders never cease.’ She widened her eyes as she shook her head in shock.
‘Well, last year the drummer’s head burned then peeled for three weeks after being stuck out in the sun for three hours. We promised him better protection. I think Duncan hoped we could get away with just supplying a higher SPF, but with the weather looking to be even more brilliant than last year that wasn’t going to cut it.’
‘Understood.’ Hannah grimaced. ‘That’ll kill Dad forking out for that. He hates spending money on anything he deems unnecessary.’
‘Like modernising the strawberry farm?’
‘You remember.’ Hannah’s head angled, her eyes searched his for an answer.
How could he forget? Hannah had been filled with such great ideas for the farm. Had been so passionate about upgrading it. Future-proofing it. But then she’d up and left without a word. Leaving him believing all her enthusiasm for the farm and all the declarations of love she’d sent in his direction had been a lie.
The same way his father’s parting words – promises of visiting lots and having Grey and his brothers come around and stay every week once he’d found a place to live – had been a lie.
The difference between Hannah and his father? Hannah had come back. Although not for good. She’d made that clear at every opportunity. Here for three weeks only. Then two. Now one.
One more week of Hannah, and she’d be gone.
The small shop felt like it had somehow shrunk in the past few seconds. The space as tight as the feeling in his heart. He glanced out the window and took in the bright blue sky emblazoned with long streaks of white clouds.
‘It’s a nice day out. Shall we walk?’
Hannah’s answer came in the form of a scrape of chair on floor and a jingle of keys as she locked up the front of the shop.
‘I’ll come back and clean up later.’
Grey followed her out the back and without a word they found themselves traipsing down a dusty path that led to the rows of strawberries. A path they’d walked so many times he half-expected their footfalls to be permanently imprinted in the ground.
They reached the end of the first field, turned left and made their way towards the tractor where Amethyst’s photoshoot had been held the previous day.
‘Amethyst showed me a couple of images from her shoot. They look good,’ Grey said as they reached the piece of machinery, trying to keep the conversation on neutral ground. He laid his hand on one of the giant tyres. Let its sun-warmed rubber warm his palm. ‘I still can’t get over how normal she is…’
Hannah laughed as she hefted herself up into the driver’s seat. ‘That’s because she is normal. I’m glad she’s decided to spend more time here. I think she’s enjoying the anonymity.’ Hannah gripped the wheel and turned it back and forth. ‘Thanks again for letting her stay.’
Grey shrugged. ‘She’s easy to have around. And I’ve kind of missed having someone in the cottage. Sometimes I think I’m too insular for my own good.’ He sunk his teeth into the fleshy parts of his cheeks and chastised himself for saying too much, for opening himself up to the one person who had the ability to tear him apart.
Would he ever learn?
Hannah paused her imaginary driving. ‘I take it that means you don’t have much to do with your brothers?’
‘I talk to them enough.’ Birthdays and Christmas was more than enough; any more and he’d have to put up with their ‘when are you going to settle down with a good woman’ wonderings. As innocent as their questions were, it always left him silently seething, remembering how he once wanted to settle down with a good woman, but it turned out she hadn’t been as good as he thought.
‘That’s not much of an answer.’ Hannah fixed him with a stubborn stare that he remembered all too well. ‘But I’ll let you off, just this once.’
She went back to driving the tractor, her gaze returning to the fields before them, and whatever else she saw in her mind’s eye.
‘Families are funny things. They’re blood, the people you’re meant to be closest to, but it doesn’t always end up like that. I mean, I talk to Mum a fair bit. Gran too. Grandad if he’s around. Dad, not so much.’
She shrugged like it was no big deal, but the way her words became clipped when talking about Duncan told Grey it was very much a big deal. Despite himself, his heart went out to Hannah. It was hard for it not to when he’d heard the snippet of conversation between she and her mum, gran and Amethyst the day of the shoot.
‘I always knew how hard you tried with your dad, but I had no idea how much it hurt that he never properly listene
d to you. Even when you told me it hurt you’d finish our conversations by shrugging it off and acting like it was no big deal.’
Hannah laughed, thin and brittle. ‘Maybe I should’ve been an actress? Maybe I missed my true calling? Maybe you shouldn’t have brushed me off every time I tried to talk to you about it and I wouldn’t have had to fake being okay?’ She swung around and slipped off the seat, made her way back down to the ground and plopped down onto a patch of grass, picked a buttercup and held it up to Grey. ‘Do you like butter?’
‘Really?’ Shock hit him hard in the gut. He crouched down in front of her. ‘I thought you just realised you were being overly sensitive? That once you let out your frustration you figured you had nothing to complain about?’
Their eyes locked as she held the flower up under his chin. His breath caught in his chest as a disconcerting mix of surprise that he had read things wrong, and re-burgeoning attraction turned his stomach muscles taut.
‘Glowing yellow. You like butter.’ She tossed the flower away, then took his hand and pulled him down so he was forced to sit properly in front of her. ‘Better. All this hovering makes me uncomfortable. Like you’re about to run.’
No, that would be your trick. The words were on his tongue, but he didn’t let them loose.
‘But that would be what I do, right?’ She plucked at another buttercup and rolled the stem backwards and forwards between her fingers. ‘I take it you heard what I had to say the other day? When you came to tell Amethyst the photographer had arrived? About how badly Dad’s brush-offs affected me?’
Grey nodded, knowing there was no point lying. ‘I did. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise. I just happened to come up right at that moment.’
A small smile lifted the corners of Hannah’s downturned lips. ‘I know you weren’t eavesdropping. You’re not the type. You never were. I’ve never met someone so on the straight and narrow.’
‘So set in their ways?’ Discomfort coiled in Grey’s stomach. He hated saying it out loud. It made it too true. He was set in his ways. He lived in his childhood home. Had worked in one place, and one place only. Drank at the same pub. Kept a circle of the same bunch of friends. And never in all his life had he wanted to change any of it.
‘No. Well, maybe a little.’ Hannah plucked another buttercup and passed it to him. ‘My dad wins the “set in their ways” competition.’
He took the buttercup and began to follow Hannah in rolling it back and forth between his fingertips. He could see why she did it. It was soothing. Helped unravel the discomfort in his gut and the tangle of his tongue. ‘I’m sorry you felt you had to leave the farm. I knew you were unhappy at times, but I had no idea things were that bad. No idea that you felt you had to escape. I guess I refused to see it…’
He caught a glistening in Hannah’s eyes, but she dipped her head before he could be sure what he was seeing were tears.
‘And I guess in not seeing it,’ Grey continued, knowing he was on rocky territory, but forcing himself to be brave enough to traverse it, ‘I pushed you away.’
‘It all got too hard… And I was so embarrassed…’ Hannah’s words were whispered, and thick with sadness. And regret. Her head shook the tiniest amount, like she was having an internal argument with herself. Her chest rose in a slow inhalation, and collapsed in a fast exhalation. ‘Nope. Not talking about this. No past talk, remember? Your rules, not mine.’
‘I’ve heard rules are made to be broken,’ Grey countered, hating that the guidelines he’d set out were coming back to bite him.
‘You don’t want to know about my pity party. You never did.’ Hannah rolled her eyes.
At him? Herself? Grey couldn’t be sure, but what he did know was that he very much wanted to hear why Hannah had left. Why she’d betrayed his heart. Maybe then he could truly move on from the past he’d insisted they never discuss.
‘I strike that rule from the list.’ He slashed the air with his index finger. ‘Please, Han. Talk to me. I promise I’ll do my best to listen. To not push you away.’ To his surprise, he found he meant those words. He did want to listen. He did want to understand. He silently swore to himself he wouldn’t do what he’d always done and make out like she was catastrophising her life; he’d put his pain away so he could understand hers.
Hannah’s lips pressed together, creating a thin line as she shook her head.
‘Do I need to get a crowbar to pry those things apart?’ Grey made to stand up.
He got only as far as his bum hovering a few inches off the ground before Hannah tugged him back down.
‘Fine. You win. I’d rather humiliate myself than have a crowbar wedged in my mouth.’ Her nostrils flared. A determined demeanour saw her back straighten and her shoulders square. ‘Okay. So. Where was I?’
‘Embarrassed. You were embarrassed about something…’
Hannah closed her eyes for a brief second, then opened them. ‘I overhead a conversation that I shouldn’t have and I was embarrassed. And hurt. And I panicked. I needed to go. To run. To escape. To find a place where I was accepted, where people believed in me. In what I could do.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Grey shuffled even closer to Hannah. All reservations about getting too close to her, physically or emotionally, flew out the window as easily as the seeds of a dandelion not far from where they sat flew through the air as a whisper of wind made its way across the land. ‘What did you overhear?’
She shook her head and placed her clenched hands in her lap. ‘You’ll think I’m stupid. Stupider than you already do.’
‘I don’t think you’re stupid. Not at all.’ Even though his words were meant to soothe, to convince her to talk, Grey knew that he meant them. ‘You’ve always been one of the smartest people I know. You always got things. You weren’t like me and had to spend an eon mulling things over, turning them this way and that in your head. Afraid to make a decision in case it was the wrong one. To me it felt like everything came easy to you.’
‘Just not pleasing my father.’ Hannah huffed. ‘God, I’m so irritated with myself. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman and all I want is my daddy’s approval. What a numpty.’
‘You’re not a numpty. I spent years wishing I had a father. Wishing mine had thought we were worth sticking around for. Wanting a father’s approval is a thing around these parts.’
‘But you got a father’s approval. Just not your own.’
Grey cocked his head to the side and tried to see what Hannah was saying.
She reached out and touched his forearm. ‘Grey, you got my father’s approval. Right from the start. You were the son he wished he had.’
Grey placed his hand over Hannah’s. Held it tight. ‘That’s not true. He wanted you. He loves you. Don’t get me wrong, I know he likes me. We get on well. “Two peas in a pod”, your gran says.’
Hannah turned from him and let out a light, brittle laugh. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d never stood outside the packing shed’s door while my father was talking to my grandad, wished that I’d never heard him say all the reasons why he was concerned about my future on the farm. All the things he didn’t think I could do, wasn’t capable of, how my flighty ideas could see the business hit a bumpy road, or close down altogether.’
Grey’s stomach clenched like he’d been punched in the gut multiple times. Bam. Bam. Bam. Like somehow Hannah’s pain had transferred to him.
‘He wouldn’t have said that. Couldn’t have. You must’ve misheard him.’ Grey refused to believe that Duncan could’ve been so hurtful. That the man who’d encouraged and supported him his whole life wouldn’t have been the same towards his own daughter. Wouldn’t have trusted her with the farm that she’d been so obviously passionate about.
Except he wasn’t a fool. Wasn’t deaf. Or blind, either. He’d seen Duncan’s off-handed ways with Hannah. Knew Hannah wasn’t imagining them. It had just been easier – on him – to ignore the tenseness of their father/daughter relationship. To keep out of it. To keep the man he wors
hipped on his pedestal. To not let her pain be his pain.
Except it now was, and all he wanted was to take that pain away and make her happy. But how could he when he had treated her so badly since she arrived home?
Guilt sat heavy in his gut as he realised how selfish he’d been. How he, in his own way, had driven Hannah away – or would have done eventually – every bit as much as her father’s words had.
‘You’re doing it again. You’re not listening. Not believing me. Telling me I’m wrong, when I know I’m not.’ Hannah pulled her hand out from under Grey’s and folded her arms, held them close to her chest. ‘I know you adore him, Grey, but I heard what I heard. The night was still, clear. His words were crystal. “Hannah’s ideas frighten me. She’s liable to rush in and throw everything at the farm without thinking of consequences. I would hate to see everything we’ve worked for fall over”. Do they sound like the words of a loving and supportive father who trusts his daughter to do her best?’
‘They sound like the words of a man whose nature is to be cautious.’ Even now Grey couldn’t help but defend Duncan. He’d been so good to Grey. Given him opportunities. Trusted him with running elements of the farm.
Trusted Grey in a way he’d never trusted his own daughter.
Which was wrong, Grey realised. And unfair. And if that was what Hannah heard, if that was what Hannah believed, could she really be blamed for running away the way she had? Escaping the expectation of failure?
She still could have come to you.
Told you what she’d heard.
Asked for your help.
His own self-defence mechanism kicked in. Reminding him he was the injured party. Every bit as much as Hannah.
But did that mean he couldn’t forgive her? Or learn to trust her again?
Sunrise at Strawberry Farm: As delightfully delicious as strawberries and cream, this is the perfect summer romance to read in 2020. Page 12
