Back in the Saddle (Diamond Firetail Farm)

Chapter 1

1

Ciaron

S ixty-seven days. That’s how long I’d lived alone for, in this house on top of the hill, without my family, who lived at the bottom of the hill. If I lived for another forty years, I’d have another fourteen thousand days of this—emptiness, loneliness, whatever you wanted to call it.

More than once, I’d asked myself if leaving Taylor was the right thing. I’d argue with myself until the reasons no longer made sense. Had I given everything to the marriage, to her? I know I did, but then the doubt would start to creep in. Maybe I could have given more. Was it better to lay beside someone and be alone, or to sleep alone in a half empty bed? I didn’t know the answers.

I stood in my kitchen and watched as the car’s headlights shone up the hill and turned into my driveway. This was the third time this week that Isabelle and Callum had come over for dinner and it was only Thursday. Taylor must be working late again .

The front door opened, and Isabelle came in, followed by Callum. She looked so much like her mum, with her long brown hair, deep brown eyes and small freckles across her nose, but she’d never admit it. These days she seemed to resent her mother.

She walked with confidence, almost defiance. It was like she knew her place in the world. A year ago, when she was fourteen, it had been different. She’d doubted herself in every way. My heart lifted at how she’d turned that around.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, parking herself on a stool at the counter. Her thick hair flowed down her shoulders, liberated from the ponytail she’d had to wear it in at school. She also made the most of being freed from her restrictive school uniform, wearing leggings and an oversized jumper with the quote Stay Gold blazoned across the front.

“What’s for dinner?” Callum asked, striding into the kitchen and taking the lid off a pot on the stove. He was wearing shorts in the middle of winter and Ugg boots.

I didn’t know that two children from the one family could be so different until I became a father. Where Isabelle was all serious, Callum was the opposite. Sure, they both had a great sense of humour, but Callum’s seemed to be constantly there, evident in his mischievous green eyes and ready grin. Isabelle didn’t let her emotions out as freely as Callum. He’d just say what he thought, with as much expression as he liked, and moved on. She was more reserved, keeping her feelings more to herself.

I didn’t see that much difference between my four brothers. They were rough and tumble, loud and often antagonistic with each other, but not to me. I probably would have been the same as them if I hadn’t been expected to care for them when I was a kid myself.

“Hi, Dad. How was your day?” I said to the back of his head. His wavy brown hair curled at his collar. Had he combed it today? I didn’t dare suggest a haircut. He’d probably shave it off, just to irk me. I’d leave that one to the school. They’d get on him as soon as it got too wild.

Callum ignored my sarcasm and turned to Isabelle. “Irish stew.”

“Yum.”

The taste of home, like my mam used to cook and her mam before her.

“I’m glad that you approve.” I handed her three bowls and got a plastic container out so they could take leftovers home for Taylor. “Does your mum know you’re here?”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I texted. Not that she cares.”

“She’s busy,” I said, making the usual excuse, weak as it was. After all, it was her busyness that had contributed to our split.

“You work on the farm too,” Callum said. “But you’re never too busy for us.”

My shoulders slumped. “It will get better after breeding season.” I didn’t know if that was true. Work seemed to consume her these past few months.

Isabelle scowled. “As if. Work is more important than us.”

“That’s not true.” I needed to say more, but what? “The drought has everyone working harder.” Lame, but true.

I turned my back to them and went to the pot on the stove before they could see my frown. It was one thing to neglect your marriage but something else completely to ignore your children, to make them feel unwanted. What the hell was wrong with her?

Isabelle was fifteen. She was becoming a woman, but she still needed her mother. There’s only so much a father can do. But I was stretching those father boundaries all the time. What did I know about female body changes and periods? More than I wanted to. And Callum, he was fourteen. They say your kids grow up fast and they’re not wrong. It wouldn’t be long before they left home to chase their dreams.

“Isn’t that why you broke up?” Isabelle asked. “Because she was always too busy?”

“That’s between your mum and me.” I stirred the stew and checked the lamb was soft. The children didn’t need to know the many reasons why we broke up. All they needed to know is that it had nothing to do with them and that we still loved them. It seemed like one of us needed to do a little better in that department.

“Do you still love her?” Isabelle asked.

I stared at the wall as my heart squeezed. What sort of question was that? And how could I answer it? Truth was always best.

I turned to find them both watching me. “I will love her every day for the rest of my life.” As much as it would hurt, I would.

They shared a look and smiled.

I didn’t want them to read more into that than they should. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

I’m sure that statement went against everything I’d ever told them. And once I would have believed that love conquered all. I’d thrown everything I could into our marriage, but in the end, it had felt like it was all one sided. Taylor had not attempted to resolve anything when I left. She’d just continued on the same path—work.

I carried the pot to the bench and started filling up the bowls. The earthy fragrance of the lamb and full-bodied scent of the vegetables with a hint of fresh herbs filled the air. My stomach grumbled. “How was school today?”

Callum collected his bowl. “Good. Exams are finished.”

“Holidays soon,” Isabelle said, taking her bowl to the table.

“Parent-teacher interviews first,” I reminded them.

They groaned.

Nearly July already. It was crazy to think that only a couple of months ago we had been all living in the same house, as a family. Two months since we’d realised it was going to be another dry winter, that we weren’t going to get a reprieve from the drought. Two months since our lives had changed.

Drought was tough on farmers. Ongoing drought was worse. Every decision we made was stressful. Balancing the welfare of our horses with the needs of our farm team and the future of our business was a delicate act. Do we sell horses? Do we keep the horses? Do we reduce the number of client horses? It all needed to be weighed up.

We chatted while eating dinner and washing the dishes. When they were ready to leave, I gave them the container of food for Taylor.

“Tomorrow, text your mum before dinner time as a reminder to come home. You know how she gets lost in her work.”

Isabelle frowned. “It won’t make a difference.”

“Just try.”

I would speak to Taylor in the morning to tell her about the plan. That way she’d be prepared. It was a delicate balancing act—helping Taylor see how she was failing to meet the needs of the kids, and not pissing her off while doing it. Tomorrow’s conversation promised to be fun.

“Give me a hug and kiss,” I said as I walked them to the door.

“We only live down the road,” Isabelle said. She wrapped her arms around me, and I kissed the top of her head.

“I still miss you like crazy.”

I pulled Callum in for a hug and a kiss.

“You’d miss us more if you move back to Ireland,” he said, gazing up at me as he took a step away.

I sucked a breath in. Had Taylor said something to them? Did she want me to leave?

“Why would I move back to Ireland?”

He shrugged.

“This is my home.”

Although the only thing that made this building a home was the children. Otherwise, it was just a place I lived and slept. There was no warmth, no photos on the wall, no personal belongings. I felt like a seasonal worker who brought nothing but their clothes. All my memories were in the house down the hill.

“What about Mamo?” Isabelle asked.

“What about your grandmother?”

“She might want you to move back.”

She always hinted at me returning, but why would she want me to now, specifically? Had one of the kids said something to her? I hadn’t told her that Taylor and I were separated. I didn’t want to hear her say I told you so or it’s time to come home now.

“I’m not leaving the farm. And I’m not leaving you. You live a kilometre away on the same farm and it’s still too far.”

I pulled them both in for another hug. Then I watched them as they drove their farm car to the house we’d lived in together until recently. The house I longed to return to so we could all be a family again. A house where silence was comfortable, not overwhelming.

Getting back together wasn’t going to happen. Taylor and I had been growing apart before the drought started a year ago. Then…it got worse. It wasn’t only that Taylor worked all the time. She’d become less and less involved with us as a family. We didn’t have any quality time together. Married couples went through this all the time. It happened to families we knew. I just never thought it would happen to us. And I’d always had full confidence that if it did happen to us, we’d be able to fix it.

I sighed and turned the lights off. Fixing it would only work if we both wanted to.