Red Dirt Heart 3 (23 page)

I wrapped the sandwich up and put it aside. “Not in so many words.”

“So he didn’t say it?”

“He didn’t have to.”

“Charlie, you can’t go assumin’ the worst of people. Give the boy some credit.”

I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “It was in his eyes. He didn’t have to say it, but I could see it,” I told him. “He kept sayin’ he was coming back, but I think he thought maybe if he kept on sayin’ it, it would make it true.”

“Well, if he kept on sayin’ it, don’t that make it true?” he asked. “Travis wouldn’t lie, son.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s gonna get home and realise his family needs him,” I said. My voice sounded flat, resigned. “And that maybe he knew once he got back
there
, that
here
wouldn’t be special enough to bring him back. I mean, his whole life is over there.”

George shook his head. “But he has a life here too.”

I shrugged. “But maybe it’s not enough. Maybe it’s too far from home, maybe he’ll realise how much he misses them when he gets there. I can’t make him choose between me and his family, George. He shouldn’t
have
to choose.”

George sighed and bowed his head. “Or maybe it’s you.”

My eyes shot to his. “What?”

“Maybe it’s you,” he repeated. “Maybe it’s just you bein’ absolutely certain you’re not worth it. Maybe you’re the one who thinks he’s better off stayin’ over there.” He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his short, greying hair. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you
are
worth coming back for?”

I shook my head without really meaning to.

“Seems that Travis’s work here is far from done,” George said. His voice was sad and soft. “I thought he was finally getting you to see yourself clearly, but it seems he wasn’t even close.”

Needing this conversation to be over, I stood up and handed him back the barely eaten sandwich. “Tell Ma I said thanks.”

George took it, but he sighed a I’m-sorry sigh. I didn’t want to hear it. He followed me into the bore shed and, before he could start sayin’ something I most definitely didn’t want to hear, I started the generator. The roar of the diesel engine stopped any chance of more conversation, and George sighed again, his shoulders slumped. He started to yell something anyway.

“I can’t hear you,” I yelled over the engine.

But I never turned it off. In fact, I climbed up on the grounding plate and shoved my still bandaged hand alongside the hydraulic shaft and spread the grease. I ignored the pull on the stitches in my hand and ignored George until he shook his head and walked away. Only when the ute drove off did I shut down the engine, and then I threw the oil rag against the wall. When that wasn’t satisfying enough, I kicked the almost empty oil drum as hard as I fucking could.

And because that made me feel a bit better, I kicked it again, sending it clear out of the shed. And then I yelled and cursed a bit, and because I couldn’t leave an oil drum where the cattle were, I stomped outside after it.

Shelby was watching me. She lifted her head in an are-you-over-yourself-yet kind of way. I pointed my finger at her. “Don’t you fucking start.”

Then, because she was a know-it-all pain in my arse, Shelby snorted and shook her head, which was horse speak for “now you need to go home and apologise to George.”

Because she was right, I kicked the oil drum back into the shed, not caring where it landed. I locked up the shed, climbed back in to the saddle and headed home.

It was cold and getting on dark by the time I rode in. The hours I spent in the saddle riding home only served for too-much thinking time and not even the cool, ever-changin’ colours of the evenin’ desert soothed me.

I unsaddled Shelby, fed and watered her, and was brushin’ her down when George found me. “Charlie?”

“Sorry about before,” I started as soon as I saw him. “I didn’t mean it, and you were right. The problem is me,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll ever think I’m good enough, and that’s something I’m trying to get right.”

He smiled at me. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I just get caught up in my head,” I said quietly. I gave Shelby a few hard brushes. “It drives Travis mad.”

George chuckled. “I bet it does.”

“Is Ma pissed off at me?” I asked.

“She’s worried.” Then he said, “She shouldn’t be stressed out right now, Charlie. She’s supposed to be recuperating.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll go check on her.”

Before I could leave, he put his hand on my arm. “Charlie, you did the right thing. As hard as it was for you, as hard as it still is now, you did the right thing. Travis did need to go home.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. He would have regretted not being there.”

George nodded, slow and sure. “And in a week or two, when he comes back—and I know he will, Charlie—you’ll be better for it.”

“You know he’ll be back?”

He smiled. “Yep.”

“Wish I was that confident.”

George looked at me kind, fatherly eyes. “He loves you, Charlie. You need to trust him. If he says he’s coming back, then he will.”

“I do trust him,” I said quickly. “It’s not about trust, or fidelity if that’s what you’re leading to. He wouldn’t ever do that.” I had no doubt.

“And you believe that he loves you?”

I nodded.

“Then trust his judgement,” George said. “If he thinks you’re worth givin’ his heart to, then maybe you should start believin’ it.”

I let his words sink in for a while. He had a good argument and a point of view that logically made sense. I sighed, suddenly feelin’ every minute of sleep I didn’t get last night. “I thought for sure I’d never find anyone, and then he literally walked through my front door. He made me think I could do everything and have it all. I could have everything I was told I couldn’t…”

George frowned and put on his tough-love act. “You know what, Charlie? If he doesn’t come back, then so be it. Sure, you can bitch and moan for the next fifty years to your broken heart’s content, but you still have a business to run, Charlie. You still have seven people that depend on you out here. I know that sounds harsh and cold, given he ain’t been gone a day. But I know you, Charlie, and this wallowin’ for weeks like you’re prone to doin’ just won’t cut it this time.”

“Did Travis write that down for you?” I asked. “Because that sounds like something he’d say.”

George laughed and shook his head. “Do you remember when he first got here? He was so full of life and a breath of fresh air, and he was so smug.”

I snorted. “Yeah, not much changed.”

“What’dya call him? A smug Yank.”

I nodded. “Yep. But he’s my smug Yank.”

George chuckled. “Then show him, Charlie. When he gets back, show him how you can do it all. Show him how you don’t need no smug Yank here holding your hand every step of the way.”

“But I do.”

He smiled like I missed an inside joke. “No you don’t. You just think you do. He’s like your safety net for tryin’. Before he got here, you were just happy to coast along at mediocre, and there ain’t nothing wrong with that, Charlie. It was a good life. A real good life.” He shook his head. “But you’ve got plans, Charlie. To go bigger and better. And that’s not Travis’s doin’. That’s you. He just opened your eyes, that’s all. Gave you a little push.”

I knew George meant no harm, but I didn’t strictly care for his choice of words. “He means more than just a safety net.”

George smiled and clapped me on the arm. “Give a man break, son. I’m trying here.”

I sighed, long and loud. “When did it all get so complicated?”

He snorted out a laugh. “I remember you bein’ fifteen years old complainin’ that life out here was boring.”

“Well, complicated is overrated,” I told him. “Boring sounds pretty good about now.”

Just then, Ma called out from the veranda. “Charlie. Phone call.” I looked at my watch, wondering if Travis’d be home by now, but before I could get too excited, she added, “It’s Jack Melville.”

I groaned, and George laughed. “Just what you need, huh?”

“Not today, no,” I said. “If that old bastard says one thing outta line to me, I’ll fly to his place tonight so I can punch him in the fucking mouth.”

George laughed as we both headed inside. “I’ll go with ya. Not to copilot. Just to watch.”

I passed Ma at the door, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as I did. “Dinner’s soon,” she said. “Ten minutes.”

I sat down at my office desk, took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Jack,” I said. “It’s Charlie.”

“Didn’t catch you at bad time, did I?” He sounded like he hoped he did. Even the sound of his voice annoyed me.

“No. Just got in actually. What can I do for you?”

“I heard you scored a buyer’s contract through Woolworths.”

“You heard correct.” I almost smiled, but then wondered where he was going with this conversation. “And how’d you go with them?”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “We secured a three-year contract.”

I wasn’t surprised he’d heard that we’d been contracted to them. I was surprised it took him this long to call and gloat. But he obviously hadn’t heard that our deal was for five years, not three. It was very likely part of the reason for his call, so I deliberately didn’t tell him.

“That’s good news,” I replied instead. I didn’t exactly have a great deal to say to this man, so I waited for him to speak again.

It didn’t take long. “So,” he hedged. “This AGM next week…”

“Yes?”

“I see you’re nominated for the Board.”

“That’s right,” I said, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Just wanted to wish you luck,” he said.

No he didn’t.

“I guess it just surprises me, that’s all,” he went on to say. “Your father never wanted anything to do with such things.”

“I’m not my father.”

“No. You’re not,” he said. His tone was unreadable. I wasn’t sure if he meant it in a good or bad way. Either way, this conversation was done.

“Anything else?”

“No, no,” he said casually. “Just touching base.”

“Right, then I’ll see you at the meeting.”

“I guess you will.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it, wondering what the hell that was actually about. George was at my door. “Everything okay?”

I looked at him, and nodded slowly. “You know what you said before about proving to Travis that I can do this?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” I told him. “But I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do. And that’s show Jack fucking Melville.”

George smiled, slow and wide. “Good.”

* * * *

It’s funny how determination and pride can motivate someone. Because if I didn’t have enough to do before, I certainly did now. And I had two weeks to do everything.

First things first, I attacked my office. Like a man possessed, I went through invoices, receipts, accounts and emails until my eyes hurt. I only stopped to feed Nugget and haul my tired arse into bed. I figured if I was tired enough, I wouldn’t miss Travis. Which kind of worked, until after the three o’clock fussing-wombat feed and I got back into bed and his side of the bed was cold.

Or until I tripped over his laundry that he’d left on the bathroom floor. That he
always
left on the bathroom floor.

Or until I sat at the table at breakfast time and his chair was too damn empty. There was no smartarse comments, no bursts of laughter. His blue eyes didn’t spark with humour and his sandy-blond hair didn’t spike out just so.

There was no foot-holding under the table.

Everyone was still kinda quiet around me, not wanting to say the wrong thing. But the truth was, with Travis gone, we were one man down. And what George said was right: we had a business to run, and these guys depended on me.

I had to not think about Travis. I had to not think about how he’d been home already for almost a day and I hadn’t heard from him. I had realised if, in the end, Travis didn’t come back, then I still had to keep going. As much as it would kill me.

I had to put my head down and get shit done. That was the cold reality of it all. As much as my heart hurt, keeping busy was the very best thing—the only thing—I could do.

I told myself not to stop. Not to think. Not to pay any mind to the ache in my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I told myself Travis was busy, he had horrible family stuff to deal with and he’d call me, email me, Skype me, when he could. I told myself to man up and deal with it, get on with work and not think about him.

But just before lunch when I was with Ernie and Bacon in the holding yard trying to wrangle a day-old Brahman and get a feeding tube down its throat and Nara called out from the veranda that my laptop was making funny pinging noises, I fucking ran.

I yelled for Billy to hold the calf’s head while we wrestled with the animal, and I fucking ran inside.

I raced through the house into my office, just as the last Skype ping rang out. I checked the screen. Two missed calls from ‘The Craig Household’, as Travis had nicknamed his parents Skype account. There was a prompt asking if I wanted to retry. Hell fucking yes, I did. I couldn’t hit the yes button quick enough.

My heart was pounding. Not just from the record-breaking hundred metre dash I just did from the holding yard to the house, but in excitement. It was Travis.

Any and all hope of trying to act like I didn’t care if he was gone went out the fucking window.

Calling…

Calling…

“Come on, come on,” I muttered to the screen. When it changed from calling to connecting, I almost leapt out of my chair.

The screen changed and I almost hugged my fucking laptop. Until I saw his face.

He looked awful. He had dark circles under his sad, sad eyes, and he looked like he’d had the day from hell.

“Hey!” I said. He was sitting in his mother’s kitchen. It looked kind of dark.

“Oh my God, Charlie,” he said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“How are you?” I asked. “How was your flight?”

He tried to smile. “Flight was okay. Long, but okay. I went straight from the airport to the hospital to see Grandpa,” he said.

“How is he?”

Travis shook his head. “Yeah… he’s not good, Charlie.” He cleared his throat. “It’s real hard to see him like that.”