by Fiona Palmer
Contents
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Fiona Palmer lives in the tiny rural town of Pingaring in Western Australia, three and a half hours south-east of Perth. She discovered Danielle Steel at the age of eleven, and has written her own brand of rural romance ever since. She has attended romance writers’ conferences and received an ASA mentorship. She has extensive farming experience, has managed the town shop, and used to be a speedway driver. She is married with two children.
fionapalmer.com
ALSO BY FIONA PALMER
The Family Farm
Heart of Gold
The Road Home
The Sunburnt Country
The Outback Heart
PRAISE FOR FIONA PALMER
‘A delightful piece of rural romance.’
BALLARAT COURIER
‘A rollicking romance that will have readers cheering on the heroine . . . Evokes the light, people, atmosphere and attitudes of a small country town.’
WEEKLY TIMES
‘A moving story that reveals the beauty of the bush and the resilience of rural communities during times of hardship.’
QUEENSLAND COUNTRY LIFE
‘A good old-fashioned love story.’
SUNDAY MAIL BRISBANE
‘Palmer’s characterisation of the town’s many colourful identities is delightful and will bring a smile to those who have experienced country life.’
WEST AUSTRALIAN
‘A heartwarming romance about finding true love and following your dreams.’
FEMAIL.COM.AU
‘Distinctly Australian . . . heartwarming and enjoyable . . . a well-written and engaging read.’
BOOK’D OUT
‘A great addition to your shelf if you love strong characters and beautiful Aussie landscapes.’
THE AUSTRALIAN BOOKSHELF
To the Murray and Mosca families
Oceans apart but connected together
1
2000
THE screeching of galahs in the early morning sounded like church hymns. Nothing made Maggie feel closer to God than this moment in the dawn. The air was fresh, scented with rosemary, basil and wild lavender. The light was soft and glowing as if filtered through stained glass, and the sounds of the birds assured her that she was alive.
Maggie was happiest in her garden. It was her little wonderland, although there was really nothing small about it – the pumpkins and watermelons sprawled beyond the rabbit fence. She bent over to squeeze some of the basil, releasing a burst of scent. Her back groaned slightly as she stood up and stretched. At seventy-two, she had no complaints except a tired body.
A smile tugged at her lips as she admired the tomato plants. They were only small now but soon she’d have to get Toni to truss them up. Come January/February they’d be making their own sun-dried tomatoes. Eating fresh from the land was one of life’s pleasures for Maggie. If the world fell apart tomorrow, they’d survive, just as they always had. They were three generations of women who lived off their own land. It was just the three of them, too – Maggie, Toni and Flick. The Sunnyvale girls. They would thrive on what they grew, and on how they supported each other. Wasn’t that what family was all about?
Tending the garden daily, watching it all flourish, also made Maggie feel closer to Rocco. His memory came to her more frequently than ever when she was in the garden. After all, through his gentle nurturing, he was the one who had opened her eyes to the magic of growing your own produce. How different life would have been if the war hadn’t made it all the way out here, to their remote farm.
Maggie always greeted her day with time in the garden. It was her special ritual. Toni, her daughter, would be at the sheds, already elbow-deep in farm work, while her granddaughter, Flick, was off to see the sunrise with her beloved horse in her own favourite place. All three of them belonged on this farm, entwined in Sunnyvale’s earth like the deep roots of the gum trees, and their spirits hovered over it protectively like wedge-tailed eagles. Maggie had been born on this farm and it was here she hoped to see out the rest of her life.
Felicity Stewart held her breath for a moment as the sun rose from the horizon. Golden light brushed the tops of the pale grass in the pasture paddock before her. The crisp morning air stung her cheeks but she refused to move. Even Contractor stood firm beneath her, snorting his breath into the cold air and shaking his mane as if also impressed with the dawn. Flick leant forward and rubbed his neck. The combined scent of Contractor and his leather saddle was her favourite smell in the world, and it made this moment perfect.
‘It’s always worth it, hey, boy?’
His body trembled beneath her. He knew that with the sun now up, their time here was coming to an end. But Flick wasn’t quite ready for work. Last night’s events haunted her, and her mind was in turmoil. She wasn’t sure if she should approach Chad about what she’d seen last night or not. He was coming out to the farm today anyway, so maybe she’d just wait and see.
‘Time to do some work,’ she said to herself, but the dog beside them barked. ‘Oh, I know, Fella. You’re always ready for work.’
Fella looked up at her, tail wagging and eyes sparkling with mischief. He was a Red Cloud kelpie and had short brown fur – it was a colour he shared with Contractor, although Contractor had a big white blaze down his nose and white socks on his back legs. Her boys were a perfect pair, her best mates, and could read her moods better than her own mum. The farm’s worker, Jimmy, had a dog too. Gypsy was Fella’s sister, and both were only two years old, still just pups.
Flick clicked her tongue and nudged Contractor on his way. With one hand on her hip and the other on the reins, she glanced back at the sun. The magic of the sunrise and all its amazing colours was nearly gone, leaving just the sun brightening a new, long day. She’d seen many sunrises in her twenty years, but to her eyes they still got bigger and better every day.
Contractor broke into a gallop, knowing they were headed back home and towards breakfast. Fella’s lean body stretched out alongside them, his tongue flapping in rhythm with his strides. Flick leant forward in the saddle.
‘Come on, boy.’
The wind against her face was glorious and she felt safe on Contractor’s powerful body. Her mum preferred the Honda motorbike, but Flick loved the strength of her horse and the fact that he would protect her. A bike would never go back to the house for help, no matter what her mum had to say about the benefits of her Honda. But then again, Toni had always been a hard arse.
As the farmhouse came into view, Flick dropped Contractor back to a walk. Fella was racing to catch up, breathing heavily but tail still wagging madly.
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Flick spotted Maggie’s plump bum as she bent over her herbs in the vegie patch next to the house. The Stewarts were known throughout the district for having a thriving vegetable garden. Nan was always giving away armloads of produce to anyone who visited. You name it, they grew it. Olive trees, smaller than the huge ones over by the old house, edged the garden. Every year they bottled up jars and jars of olives. People put in orders for them, and for good reason. They were delicious.
‘Morning, Nan,’ Flick said as she approached.
Maggie stood up. She was wearing her favourite apron. It was faded blue gingham with a white pocket at the front, where she tucked her pair of scissors. She picked up the basil and parsley she’d just snipped.
‘Hello, my darling. How was the sunrise this morning?’
‘Absolutely glorious. I saw the wedge-tailed eagle back by its nest. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on the lambs in that paddock.’
Maggie nodded. Her face was wrinkled and dotted with age spots, her soft grey hair pulled back into a neat, practical bun. She was fine-boned and petite, with the exception of her rear end. Maggie said her backside was her storage tank in case the Depression ever hit again.
Flick could see the traces of her nan’s beauty, and the proof was in the old photos. She’d been a stunner in her day. Grandad had always said he was the luckiest man alive on the day she married him. He had lost the use of his legs in a farming accident long before Flick was born, so he’d got around either in his wheelchair, on the motorbike or in the converted ute. Never had he walked the farm with them or strolled through the crops of an evening, but he’d always been around, overseeing the farm, until he passed away four years ago.
‘Hurry up and put Contractor away,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll have brekkie ready in a few minutes. And if you see Jimmy in your travels, can you let him know, please?’
‘Sure, Nan.’
Flick headed towards the horse shed and locked Contractor away. ‘There you go,’ she said, handing him his wide plastic bucket of mixed feed. Flick kissed his long nose, put the saddle away, and ran back to the house. Fella ran beside her, glancing up excitedly as if to ask, ‘What are we chasing?’ Fella was clearly disappointed when they got to the verandah and Flick pulled off her boots. No boots meant no play. His head dropped as he flopped down beside them. Knowing that she never worked without her boots, Fella practically sat on them now. That way he wouldn’t be left behind. Flick scratched his ears. She couldn’t resist his gorgeous face.
‘You’re a sook, Fella,’ came a voice over her shoulder. Jimmy strode onto the verandah followed by an energetic Gypsy. Instantly, Fella leapt up and nipped at Gypsy’s ear. Then they sprang around, jumping at each other, playing.
‘Mad as cut snakes, those two,’ said Jimmy, his hands on his hips. At forty-four, Jimmy was still fit and handsome. His blond hair was trimmed short and his jade-green eyes changed intensity in the light, but James Painter had always been Jimmy to Flick. He’d worked on the farm for nearly four years, ever since Grandad passed away. Jimmy wasn’t just their worker any more. He was more like family now, and the only father figure, besides her grandad, that she was ever likely to have.
‘Bit like us two,’ said Flick, and launched herself at Jimmy as he bent over to take off his boots. Flick tried to put him in a headlock but he stood up, lifting her off the ground. She squirmed as he threw her over his shoulder. Fella and Gypsy paused to watch them.
The screen door snapped open. ‘Knock it off, you two. Mum’s inside waiting.’ Toni was always so stern, her skin tanned from all the outside work, her body lean and strong. Her hair was short, almost pixie-like, and was streaked with grey. If it weren’t for the beautiful hourglass figure that filled out her jeans and stretched her shirts across the chest, she’d fit right in with the men in the yards.
Toni’s dark-brown eyes flashed with impatience, and Jimmy set Flick down. He straightened his shirt, gave Flick a wink and squeezed past Toni. At least Toni cracked a smile.
‘Come on. Nan’s made us omelettes.’ Toni turned and they both headed inside the homestead. It had a verandah on three sides and a big patio out the back, but if you asked Flick, the house lacked character. She had always preferred the old house in the gimlet trees further down towards the back paddock, with its jarrah floorboards and high ceilings. But she’d grown up in this house, so it was home. It had its own quirks: the toilet door that didn’t shut, the cracks in the lounge room walls that opened and closed with the seasons, and the buckshot holes in the pantry from the time that Nan tried to shoot a snake that had snuck inside. And there were wider doorways and ramps instead of steps, which had been put in for Grandad.
In the dining room, the table was set with plates and Nan’s homemade tablecloth. Nan was serving the freshly cooked omelette to Jimmy, who sat at one end. Grandad’s seat at the other end always stayed empty. Flick sat on one side of Jimmy, Toni the other, and Nan usually sat beside Flick. It had been this way since Jimmy had arrived.
Nan always fed them and kept house while they ran the farm; she was not ready to retire. She’d said that the moment she stopped working would be the moment she’d start to die.
‘Oh, Maggie May, this looks great. Thank you,’ said Jimmy, who wasted no time digging in.
Nan squeezed his shoulder, delighted at pleasing him. While Flick waited for her breakfast, she tried to ignore the pile of university brochures at the edge of the table. Was her mum really going to start on about this again today? Flick flipped her long chestnut plait over her shoulder but it wasn’t enough to deflect her mum’s disappointed glare. Luckily, Nan was back within minutes, flopping an omelette onto Flick’s plate.
‘Thanks, Nan. The herbs smell divine.’
‘So, did you catch up with Chad last night?’ Jimmy asked.
Flick drew in a breath. ‘Yeah.’
His brow creased. ‘You were home early. Heard your car,’ he explained.
Toni shot her a worried glance. No doubt she’d been thinking the same thing.
‘He had an early start so I only stayed for a beer.’
Nan sat down with her muesli, and Flick hoped they’d forget about Chad. That was one subject she wasn’t in the mood for. She gave her full attention to eating her breakfast instead.
‘We weren’t expecting you home last night,’ Toni persisted. ‘Is everything okay?’
Flick attempted to keep her feelings of confusion and hurt from her face, trying for a casual smile. ‘He had to get up really early so it was just easier to come home and get a good night’s sleep.’ She wasn’t sure if she’d pulled it off. Jimmy, chewing as slowly as a jersey cow, studied her expression.
‘Oh, all right.’ Toni seemed convinced. She cleared her throat and reached for the travel brochures she had strategically placed on the table beside the bunch of university brochures.
Flick’s stomach dropped. Here it comes again, she thought. She didn’t know what was worse – a lecture about travel or the Spanish Inquisition on Chad.
‘I, um, picked these up when I was in Narrogin yesterday getting the hose fittings,’ Toni said.
Flick glanced at her mum. She was trying to act casual as she slid the pamphlets across the table. The four travel brochures were for Italy, France, America and Vietnam.
‘These look great and the girl said they’re very popular destinations,’ Toni continued. ‘There’s the money Grandad left you just waiting for you to pick a trip.’
‘I told you, I’m happy here, Mum,’ Flick said. ‘I don’t want to travel. Fella and Contractor need me and I’d prefer to use the money to do up the old place.’
Toni clicked her tongue. ‘You don’t want to be stuck here your whole life, Felicity. Go, explore the world before it’s too late and you end up like me!’
Flick finished her omelette and turned to her mum, a woman she’d grown up idolising, a woman of strength and determination. Nothing was impossible for her and she’d done everything on her own. Always. ‘What’s so wrong
with being like you, Mum? Your life seems pretty perfect to me.’
‘There’s so much more out there on offer,’ Toni replied. ‘I know you love it here, but this place isn’t going anywhere.’
‘This place is all I’ve ever wanted. When are you actually going to listen to me?’ Flick stood abruptly, collecting her plate while Jimmy tried his best to look invisible.
Toni got up too but Maggie raised her voice. ‘Antonia, leave her be.’
Before anything else could be said, Flick darted for the kitchen, dropped her plate in the sink and charged out the screen door.
She needed time to cool down. Her mum just seemed to like pushing her buttons. Why was she so persistent? And why couldn’t she hear what Flick was saying? Flick found it hard enough dealing with her mum, but now it seemed she had boyfriend issues to contend with, too. This was definitely not her week.
Toni flinched as the screen door slammed. She wanted to go back to half an hour ago, when the light had spread through the shed and warmed her skin as she’d sat cleaning motor parts in petrol. It had been so peaceful, just the galahs screeching and the odd sound of a small branch they’d nibbled off as it hit the ground with a thump. Back before she’d made Flick angry.
Pushing her empty plate away, she pulled back the travel brochures. Each photo of exotic lands and different cultures drew her in. Why wasn’t Felicity interested? She’d give anything to have the opportunities her daughter now had laid out before her.
Jimmy reached around her and collected her plate, his rolled shirtsleeves exposing his muscled forearm.
‘Thanks, Jimmy.’ She smiled up at him. It was hard not to notice James Painter. He was far too handsome for his own good. After losing her dad, it had been so nice to have a male figure around again, and Jimmy was tall and strong, but upbeat and optimistic, too. That was something she’d missed her whole life. Her dad had depended on Toni for nearly everything, but being wheelchair-bound, he’d also suffered from bouts of depression.
