Red Dirt Heart 3 (22 page)

I understood the need for him to go back home, even if he thought I needed him here. And I
did
need him here. I really did. But he needed to say his final goodbye to a man who helped raise him, who taught him how to fish and how to fire a gun. It was his grandpa who taught him how to be in love with one person for almost fifty years and still look at them like they went and hung the moon.

I reckon he did a real good job, and I wished I could go to Texas just so I could thank the man myself.

Travis needed to go home.

I understood it. I just didn’t like it.

In fact, it scared me half to death.

But I couldn’t show one inkling of doubt. I couldn’t tell him I was petrified of doing this on my own. Because I was certain I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any of this without him.

He was right about one thing: I was swamped. I had a lot going on, a lot to deal with and a lot to get done.

I didn’t want to do any of it. I had every intention of crawling into bed and not getting out until Travis came back. That was my plan A. To not deal with life at all.

There was every chance that Plan B involved Ma yelling at me to get my sorry self out of bed each day because this-place-won’t-run-on-self-pity-Charlie. But I was gonna work on Plan A for as long they’d let me.

“You okay?” Travis asked.

I gave him the best smile I could fake.
No, I’m not. I’m not okay at all
. “Sure. You?”

“You can’t lie, Charlie,” he said with a sad smile. “It’s not in your genetic coding.”

“Huh?”

We’d taken the new Land Cruiser to town. I drove, despite my injured hand. We were parked at the airport, and he nodded toward the building. “I’m pretty sure I used to have the look on my face just like yours when I had to go the dentist, Charlie.”

I laughed at that despite my mood. “I hate the dentist,” I told him. “And no, I’m not too fond of airports right now either.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave,” he said with a shrug. “But I know I should. I don’t want to say goodbye to you or to my grandpa.” He swallowed thickly. “I guess I can’t win.”

That’s when I realised that this wasn’t about me. This was about Travis and what he was going through. I could have kicked myself for being so damn selfish. “You need to do this,” I told him. “Go home, see your grandpa and spend time with your family. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Travis exhaled through puffed-out cheeks. “I changed my mind,” he said.

“Trav,” I started to reason with him.

“I don’t like this car,” he added. “I’ve changed my mind. I prefer the old truck.”

I guess he needed a change in conversation. “The ute with no suspension, no air conditioning and busted springs in the seats?” I asked.

He nodded. “I can’t lay across the seat in this one. Or you can’t lean against me if I drive. It’s one of my favourite things, you know,” he said quietly.

“Maybe I could have it modified. Instead of the centre console, we could have a bench seat.”

He gave me an almost smile. “It’d be much easier to kiss you too, you know. If I could be sitting right next to you instead of all the way over here.”

I leaned over the console as far as I could. “We’ll learn to improvise.”

Trav took my face in his hands and kissed me. And I mean, really kissed me. The intensity took me by surprise, the way he held my face to his, how he tasted me, the passion, the need, the goodbye.

He whispered, all out of breath, “I can’t kiss you like that in the airport.”

“Well, you could,” I said, my head still spinning. “Though we might get arrested for lewd behaviour.” I shook my head to clear it and opened the door. “Come on, or you’ll miss your flight.”

We got him checked in and had to wait fifteen minutes until his plane boarded. Fifteen too-long, nowhere-near-long-enough minutes. We sat in an empty row of seats, away from the other people. Now it seemed as though it was him keeping me distracted, not the other way around. “What are your final two assessment subjects again?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged. “They’re not high on my list of priorities right now.”

“Charlie, you have to do them. You’re almost at the finish line.”

I sighed, not wanting to argue with him over something so unimportant. “Analysis of Herbicide resistance and something-or-other, and the other one’s about Soil Genetics and whatever.” I shrugged. “I’ll get to them if I can.”

It was a lie. We both knew I had no intention of doing either assessment. But he never said anything else about it. Maybe he didn’t want to argue with me either.

Instead, he asked, “When’s the Beef Farmers election meeting?”

“Next week.”

“Where’s the meeting at?”

“Here in Alice Springs. It’s a two-day thing, apparently.” I shook my head, wishing to God I’d never agreed to signing up for the stupid bloody elections.

“And the vet that Blake was lining up?” he asked. “The supermarket buyer specialist guy?”

“He’s this week sometime,” I answered. “They were gonna let me know when the schedule is finalised.”

“When did Ma need to go back for a check-up?”

I tried to think. “I can’t remember. I’m sure she’ll tell me.”

He nodded. “Oh, don’t forget to tell George that Brooks and Dunn are tagged, but the others aren’t. Well, I guess he’ll see that, won’t he?”

“Brooks and Dunn?”

“Two of the new poddy calves we got in yesterday.”

I’d gathered that much. “Brooks and Dunn? Really?”

“It was either that or Simon and Garfunkel.”

I laughed at him, despite the heavy ache in my chest. “We really need to talk about your taste in music.”

Travis’s smile slowly morphed into a frown. He stared out the wall of glass, looking at the plane he’d soon be getting on. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said quietly. “It could be a week, or two.”

“Take as much time as you need,” I said mechanically. I didn’t mean it. In fact, I meant the exact opposite. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

He nodded, still not looking at me. “You’re gonna be so busy you’ll hardly have time to miss me.”

I snorted at the fucking ridiculousness of that. At least it got him to look at me.

“I remember one of the first things you ever said to me,” he said. “We were sitting on your front veranda. It was about my first or second day here, and you said your staff are the best there is.”

I nodded. “It’s true,” I agreed. “I think that is even more true now than it was then.”

He looked at me seriously. “Then let them do what you employ them to do, Charlie.”

“What?”

He smiled at my what-the-hell-does-that-mean expression. “I know what you’re like. You’ll go home and try to do everything yourself.”

“No I won’t.”

He laughed, because apparently I really can not lie. “Promise me you’ll just worry about what you need to do and let them do the day-to-day stuff, Charlie.”

“Well, I won’t promise, but I’ll try.”

“You need to be the best boss you can be,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, and that means helping and doing what they do. I ain’t above them.”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a smile. “But it also means that you need to be the best farmer you can be, who’s gonna move this industry forward, Charlie. You need to go to those meetings and talk business, figures and stock rates, and all that stuff you have in your head. Go get elected onto the board of directors and kick some ass, Charlie. Sutton Station is the best run farm out there. It’s about time others knew that.”

“Is that your motivational speech of the year?” I asked. “Because that was pretty good.”

He laughed this time. “Nope. That was me knowing you too well. I know you were thinking of going home and calling Greg to withdraw your nomination.”

“No I wasn’t.” Actually, I really kind of was.

“You can’t lie, Charlie,” he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. Then he was serious. He looked back out the window. “I only encouraged you to do all those things because I want the world to see the Charlie I see.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “Because he’s really kinda great.”

“I can’t be that Charlie,” I whispered. “Not without you.”

His voice cracked. “You have to be.”

The PA cracked to life. “Your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” a woman announced. “Flight QF790 to Sydney is now boarding.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Travis stood up. I did too, and when I finally looked at Travis, he exhaled slowly. “I don’t like goodbyes.”

“It’s not really a goodbye,” I told him, trying to smile.

Then why did it feel like one?

If he was only supposed to be going for a week or two, why did it feel like he wasn’t coming back?

I wanted to ask him to promise to come back. I wanted to hear him say it, and I wanted to believe it. But I think part of me knew that when he went home, surrounded by family and old friends, that his list of pros and cons for reasons to stay might be a little longer on the side that didn’t include me.

I swallowed down my emotions and tried to convince myself that this wasn’t about me. This was about him going home to say goodbye to his dying grandpa. “I wish you were going back for something happier,” I told him. “Maybe we should have planned a holiday to visit or something.”

He was looking at the floor between us. “Bit hard when you don’t have a passport, Charlie.”

“Well, I’ve never had a need for one,” I said quietly. “I never thought I’d leave my station again, let alone the country.”

He looked at me then with teary eyes and a watery smile. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah, I do,” I told him. “About half as much as I’m gonna miss you.”

He tried to laugh. “Just pretend I’m out fixin’ fences or something. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, just a week or two,” I said, aiming for conviction. I must have missed my mark.

He cupped my face, and his eyes bore into mine. “I’m coming back. I promise. Have I ever lied to you?”

I nodded, my face still in his hands. “Yep, the other day. You said I couldn’t sing. That’s clearly a lie.”

Travis barked out a laugh, and then like we weren’t in a busy airport terminal, like it was just us, he closed his eyes. When I thought he was going to kiss me, he didn’t. He nudged his nose to mine.

It took my breath away.

“Believe me now?” he whispered against my cheek.

I shook my head just a little, trying to remember how to breathe.

Trav nudged his nose to mine again and ghosted his lips over mine. I’m pretty sure I swayed, because I could feel him smile against my lips. “How about now?”

I nodded this time and slowly opened my eyes. I felt drunk. “Yeah.” Then, trying to keep the mood light because I didn’t need to add guilt and my insecurities to his list of worries, I said, “Anyway, you have to come back because I still haven’t taken you to Uluru.”

“Deal.” He smiled at me. “We’ll plan it later. Right now I have to go.”

“I know. I wish you didn’t have to.”

He whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to either.”

“I’m sorry about your grandpa, Trav,” I told him. “I really do wish you had a happier reason to go home.”

He sighed, and for a second I thought he was gonna cry. He blinked it back. “It’ll be just like I’m gone fencing, yeah?”

I nodded, trying to convince myself just as he was. “Yep. Two weeks fencing.”

The final boarding call came over the speaker, and Travis looked over at the counter. He straightened up and exhaled slowly. He gave me a quick kiss, and just like he was heading out to the southern paddocks for the day, he said, “See you soon.”

I watched him as he handed over his boarding pass and walked through the doors without so much as looking back. I knew other people were staring at me—they’d probably never seen two men kiss before—but I didn’t care.

I didn’t cry when he left, I didn’t cry when I walked out, but I fucking lost it when I got in the car.

I don’t remember the trip home. Though it was a three-hour trip, the next thing I knew, I was pulling up at the homestead. It was after nine at night, and Ma and George were waiting. Ma tried to smile, but her face kind of crumpled when she saw me. “Oh, Charlie,” she whispered.

“I’m just gonna go to bed,” I mumbled, really not wanting to deal with questions and looks of pity.

With sad eyes, Ma said, “Charlie, he won’t be gone long, love.”

I shook my head. There was a heavy, heavy ache in my chest. The cold, creeping realisation of absence I’d felt earlier was now like lead. I knew. I just knew. I didn’t mean to cry, but saying stuff out loud for the first time was so damn hard.

“Travis isn’t coming back.”

I tried to do Plan A and wallow in self-pity, but I couldn’t sleep. I lay on his side of the bed and smelled his pillow until the sun started to rise and I couldn’t stand how pathetic I was anymore.

I had it all mapped out, though. When I was feeding the dogs and horses, Travis was on a plane flying somewhere near Fiji. Then when I was sitting at breakfast, pushin’ food around my plate and trying not to look at his empty chair beside me, ignoring the looks of sympathy and not-knowin’-what-to-say kind of silence, Travis was flying over Samoa.

When the others all stopped for lunch and I stayed out on Shelby with her listenin’ silence, Travis had crossed from the South Pacific to the North, and when George drove the old ute up to where I was fixin’ the fourth bore in the top of the first western paddock and shoved a roast beef sandwich in my hand, Travis would be flyin’ over Mexico.

“You need to eat,” George said. “Ma wanted to come out here herself, but I had to stop her. Stubborn thing she is.” He shook his head at me. “Just about as stubborn as you.”

I sat on the ground and took a bite of the sandwich and struggled to swallow it. I had no appetite and no energy. I tried a mouthful of water instead.

George leaned against the old ute and crossed his arms. He had that we’re-gonna-have-a-little-talk patience about him, and I knew him finding me wasn’t just about making me eat. “Did Travis say he wasn’t coming back?”