The Grass is Greener (6 page)

‘Then maybe fresh blood is exactly what they need.'

For a while they held each other's gaze, caught in a rip of their own needs versus those of their families.

Claudia knew the right decision was to say ‘no.' Her obligations to her family were hers and hers alone. It was callous of her to pass them off to somebody else, wasn't it?

How many years have you already given to Oak Hills, Claudia?

And how much more are you prepared to sacrifice?

She knew how trapped Bronwyn had felt for so many years because the feeling was so close to her heart. Here was a chance for them both to get what they wanted and needed.

‘All right, Bronwyn.' She held her arms open for a hug. ‘You win. Let's do it.'

Bronwyn squealed and hugged her back.

‘But remember,' she added sternly, ‘at the first sign of trouble we call it quits, all right?'

‘Of course,' Bronwyn agreed.

If only Claudia could have predicted then how impossible that would be.

Bronwyn stepped out of Claudia's old ute, closed her eyes and lifted her nose to the wind. Who knew that freedom smelled both fresh
and
fruity?

After a moment she allowed herself to take in the ramshackle home she was parked in front of. It was two storeys tall and leaning against the side of a hill, much like a tired old man catching his breath. In its heyday it must have been rather grand and stately. Now it looked a little too rickety to still be standing at all. Most of the building was timber and the beige-coloured paint was old and peeling, especially near the roof gutters. The porch sported a ramp rather than steps, which may have seemed odd-looking to some people but made perfect sense to her.

Bronwyn sighed quietly. Even in its dilapidated state, the house still had the power to take the chill off her troubled heart. She had so many memories of this place and the surroundings. All wonderful.

Hot sausage rolls.

Lazy days on the beach.

Spicy shiraz.

My first kiss …

She shook away the daydreams.

This visit is not going to be quite as relaxing.

It was one thing to drop by and visit old friends. It was quite another to move in and take over their business. The plan, which had looked good in her mind's eye, was now starting to pinch at every nerve.

Elsa barked from the tray of the ute as though in agreement.

She turned. ‘Yep, girl, this is it. Your new home.' She ran her hand between Elsa's ears, looking across the vineyard behind her. Rows and rows of vines rolled over the hills, divided by the gravelly dirt track that cut a path from Rickety Twigg Road to the winery and then to the residence. She had just driven up this track to the house and the wheels of the ute were covered in a rich film of red-brown dust.

‘Here, let me get you a drink.'

She walked round to the side of the porch where there was a hose and a bucket. She filled the bucket with water and brought it back to the ute for Elsa.

‘Do my eyes deceive me?'

Bronwyn spun around as the creak of something that wasn't quite footsteps sounded on the timber floorboards behind her. ‘Chris!'

The flyscreen door swung closed behind him as he came out. ‘Well, if it isn't my long lost love, come to break my heart all over again.'

Her eyes widened as he came fully into view. ‘Wow, Chris, you look fantastic.'

Chris Franklin was in a wheelchair. But if there was anyone out there that thought they had more vitality than him, she'd dare them to come forward. He wore a loose tank that showed off his impressive biceps and sun-kissed skin. His hair was streaked with gold, further evidence that he spent plenty of time outdoors. He wore shorts and sneakers, so she could see that his legs were skinny from lack of use, but there was
nothing limp about the arms resting lightly but with complete control over the top of his wheels. A mischievous dimple in his right cheek appeared.

‘That makes two of us. I didn't know you were coming to town.'

‘Neither did I, till yesterday.'

His eyes moved beyond her. ‘Where's Claud?'

Guilt, a familiar companion, slung an arm across her shoulders and drew her close. This was definitely going to be harder than she thought. ‘Do you mind if we hold off on that? It's kind of a big conversation and I need to get Elsa settled first.'

‘Elsa?'

‘My new dog.' She pointed at the tray.

‘Wow, Numbat, she's big.'

She flinched at the old nickname and her eyes involuntarily lowered as they always used to do. ‘I can't believe you still remember that stupid name Jack used to call me.'

‘Actually, neither can I.' He sounded amused, almost like he was mocking himself, not her. ‘Sorry. I have a feeling it doesn't really suit you anymore.'

‘Well,' she took a breath and raised her head, ‘I'm not that shy teenager I once was who was too afraid to say a word.'

He gestured at Elsa. ‘You've certainly got a very impressive bodyguard now. No one will mess with you again.'

The reason why Jack called her Numbat, apart from the fact that he just liked to be annoying, was because when they first met she used to go all quiet whenever he was around. Like she'd gone into a torpor, a state of semi-hibernation that numbats often achieved in the winter. Not that Jack would know what that really looked like. Numbats were an endangered species after all, and she doubted he'd ever seen one around, even in these parts.

Didn't stop you reading up about them, did it?

The truth was, back then she'd had the biggest crush on him. She felt her face warm at the memory. It was no wonder
he'd likened her to a spooked marsupial. He was the gorgeous older guy with all that awe-inspiring worldliness, and she the self-conscious teenager struggling to be accepted by her parents. It had taken her ages to respond to his teasing with any sort of coherence. It was no wonder he'd enjoyed it so much. She shrugged off the thought. The past was the past.

She'd grown up since then.

A lot.

Chris seemed to read her mood correctly. ‘You know what, you look different too. More self-assured. Maybe it's the hair. It's shorter. But I suppose that's what women do from time to time.'

‘Yes, that's what we do,' she inclined her head with a slight smile, ‘especially when we're looking for a new start.'

He grinned. ‘Mum will be so pleased you've come to visit. How long are you staying?'

She licked her dry lips. It seemed a little premature to say ‘indefinitely'. After all, this was their house and she hadn't even asked their permission yet.

Damn it, Bron! Why on earth did you think this would be easy?

She should have asked Claudia to call first. Pave the way, so to speak. She just hadn't wanted to stress her best friend out further this morning. She knew that the job interview had already kept her up half the night with worry.

‘Er …' she stalled. ‘I'm not really sure.'

Chris's grin broadened. ‘Very cagey, aren't you? Should I be worried?'

‘Not yet,' she smiled back.

‘At least let me take you out to dinner while you're here. I hear the Maxwells might be reopening their restaurant. It overlooks their lake. Could be very romantic.'

Bronwyn laughed as she unclipped Elsa's leash and opened the back of the tray, allowing the dog to jump down and bound around the car to sink her snout into the refreshing liquid in
the bucket. ‘I'd love to go out with you, Chris, but not as a date, okay?'

The sound of water slapped against Elsa's parched tongue.

Chris gasped. ‘Seriously? You just said I look fantastic.'

She shook her head with a wry grin. ‘Yeah, but you're like a brother to me.'

‘Was that how you felt about Jack too?' His eyes narrowed.

She put her hands on her hips crossly. ‘Are we really going to go there?'

‘No,' he grinned, ‘I suppose not. But old habits die hard.' He sighed. ‘Come on, we better go inside. If we stay out here much longer we might start hugging and agreeing to just be friends.' He looked so disgusted by the concept that she had to laugh again as he did a quick twirl on his rather sporty-looking chair so that he could hold the door open for her. Bronwyn noticed the slanted wheels that looked like they were built for speed rather than stability.

‘See something you like, sweetheart?' he enquired, clearly flirting again. What was it about Franklin men having thick skin?

‘I admire you, Chris,' she said softly and sincerely. ‘I really do.'

His grin widened even further as he took in the whole of her. ‘Don't sweat it, darlin', the feeling is perfectly mutual.'

With a slight smile, Bronwyn walked into the house. Despite the obvious need for repairs in various nooks and crannies, the house was very welcoming. Wooden floorboards gently groaned as they made their way across an expansive foyer. An old oak barrel that had been cut in half and topped with a slice of polished tree trunk sat in the centre. This made a very earthy-looking hall table. The only other piece of furnishing in the room was a giant oriental rug. From here, there were four doors they could have taken. Bronwyn would have taken the first one on her left but Chris stopped her.

‘My parents are in here.'

 

He led her through the second door, the entrance to a large study occupied by two desks, a worn-looking couch and a couple of filing cabinets. The desk by the window had a computer on it and there was a woman in her sixties seated there, peering at the screen over her plastic pink glasses.

‘Ah, Chris,' she said without looking up. ‘I'm glad you're back. Can you get your father out of here? He's not helping me with these bills at all.'

‘What are you talking about?' a man of similar age protested from the couch. ‘All I'm doing is helping. It's you who won't listen.'

She waved a paper bill at him crossly. ‘But we can't get rid of the free cheese and crackers on the bar. Everyone in town will say we've fallen on hard times.'

‘Er, Mum,' Chris pointed out from the sidelines, ‘we
have
fallen on hard times.'

‘Well, there's no need to be so bloody blatant about it,' his mother replied, finally allowing her gaze to find him, and then his companion.

‘Bronwyn!' she exclaimed, whipping off her glasses. She had the same vibrant eyes as her daughter. As she rose abruptly to her feet some papers that had been on her lap fell off and joined the many others littering the floor about her desk. ‘We've missed you so much, sweetie. You never come to visit us anymore and, believe me, you were the sanity in this house, let me tell you.' She grabbed Bronwyn just above the elbows, so that she could examine her carefully. ‘You haven't changed one bit. Oh … except for the hair, but that's to be expected.'

‘Absolutely.' Bronwyn caught Chris's mischievous look before she allowed the older woman to envelop her in a huge hug.

She pulled back to observe her hostess. ‘You haven't changed either, Lydia. You're looking as well as ever.'

‘Aren't you a flatterer,' the older woman chided, but looked pleased nonetheless.

‘Bronwyn?' Chris's father stood up. He had turned his head left and was squinting out the corner of his eye at her. ‘Sorry, I can't see as clearly as I used to.'

She left Lydia's side and came closer, knowing the distance didn't help. ‘That's okay, Horace.'

The glaucoma had caused a gradual loss of sight, which would lead to eventual blindness – an age-related illness that was also incurable. She knew he was on some sort of medication to slow the process but he would never regain the eyesight he had already lost. Her heart went out to him. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been much more lively. Time and the disease had not been kind. It was strange to see him step forward with hesitation in his movements. Although he was only around five years older than Lydia, the gap seemed closer to ten now. His hair and eyebrows were more white than brown and his skin was riddled with sunspots.

She hugged him. ‘It's good to see you –' She cut herself off awkwardly as she realised what she'd just said. ‘I mean –'

‘There's no need to walk on eggshells with me,' he grunted. ‘I've got a thick skin. Too thick, according to my wife. So, how's life been treating you, anyway?' He seemed to visibly buoy himself to ask. ‘Still in the fast lane?'

‘Er … sort of.'

Where do I start?

Lydia waggled a finger and then said to Chris, ‘This girl always had a terrible poker face.'

‘Tell me about it.' He grinned. ‘What's going on, Numbat? You promised me an explanation at some point.'

Bronwyn shifted from one foot to the other. ‘It's about Claudia.'

Lydia's smile disappeared. ‘I hope nothing bad has happened? Is she okay? She hasn't hurt herself, has she?'

‘She's fine,' Bronwyn hastily reassured her. ‘In perfect health, actually.'

‘But …' Chris prompted.

Come on, girl. Just rip it off like a band aid.

‘She's not coming home.'

There was a moment of silence.

‘As in, she's not coming home
today
?' Lydia suggested tentatively.

‘As in, she's not coming home … indefinitely.'

Lydia gasped.

‘What does that mean?' Horace demanded. ‘It means,' Chris chuckled, ‘that she's finally had enough and she's jumped ship. Wish I had her gumption and the legs to do it with.'

‘Oh no,' Lydia shook her head, ‘Claudia wouldn't do that. She wouldn't leave us high and dry.'

‘That's right –' Bronwyn tried to seize the opportunity to explain further but Horace wouldn't let her.

‘Yes, she would. You know she's been dying to get out of here for years. Wants to live in the city.'

Lydia's mouth pulled. ‘Yes, to practice law, of course.' She turned back to Bronwyn. ‘Is that what she's doing?'

Bronwyn nodded apologetically. ‘She's trying to get a job with my family as we speak.'

Lydia sank back into her desk chair, her voice wistful. ‘She's pursuing her dream. I guess it's about time.'

‘About time?' Horace snapped. ‘Just after I've retired and can no longer work? Surely she's got more responsibility than that.'

Lydia sighed. ‘You honestly can't blame her, can you? She trained for all those years at university and we've been holding her back. Keeping her here against her will …'

‘Oh, don't be so melodramatic!' Horace cried. ‘We did no such thing. She knew what she owed to her family.'

‘It was wrong of us to put that on her,' Lydia protested.

‘But we can't run Oak Hills without her,' Chris spoke up. ‘What'll happen to the business? The least she could have done was arranged for someone else to take her place. Though how we would pay them, I have absolutely no idea.'