Silver Wish Farm (Pepper Bay Series, Book 12)

1

Twenty-one years later

Heath

Heath walked over to the old gate that divided his land from the one next door belonging to Lucky Riding Stables. He stared at the building site before him, where the Gatehouse Café used to be. A recent fire had wiped out the lot, and the rebuild had not long started.

He figured he could make the kitchen cupboards once that area was built. Vivien would have to let him know what design she had in mind.

She was talking to Rhett, over by the side entrance to the main house on his farm. He couldn’t ask her now. The sisters were grieving. So was everyone around him at his dad’s memorial service.

Benton Silver had once seen an advert for a cremation service and told his wife he’d prefer that, rather than the usual funeral setup. He wasn’t one for frills so briefed her on the kind of send-off he wanted. No black cars, no long speeches about his life, and no choosing a coffin. The people who knew him were invited to his home, where food and drink were plenty, and a couple of his favourite songs were played. Heath said a few words, thanked everyone for coming, then asked them to make a small donation to the National Trust in his dad’s name. The immediate family walked into one of the large fields, away from the guests and garden centre, and released Benton’s ashes into the light breeze.

Benton’s idea of saving his family the trauma of a funeral was the last way he felt he could show them love, but Heath still felt deflated and a little lost. He did wonder if he should have his own arrangements written down somewhere. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to have to pick a coffin for him. There was no way she’d cope with that. It was decided. He was having the same kind of service as his dad, even if he didn’t want to think about it. Sensible and practical. It was his way. He’d write it down and stick it in an envelope for his daughter to find when the time came.

I hope I have more years with her. Oh, please don’t take me yet. My family need me more than ever now.

Heath took a breath and glanced at the cloudy sky. Not an April shower in sight, which was a blessing. The service held in the garden went well, and he was sure his dad would have approved of the small turnout and the barbeque. If there was one thing the Silver family loved, it was a barbeque.

It all felt a tad surreal. One minute, his dad was there and fine, the next, he’d collapsed a few times, could hardly breathe, then he was gone. The paramedics arrived, but there wasn’t anything they could do. Heart disease had silently crept up on him and whisked him away to the other side.

Are you here right now, Dad? Can you see all this?

Heath looked over at Rhett as their daughter, Willow, had approached her, wrapping herself in her mother’s arms.

He loosened his black tie, letting it hang untied around his neck, then opened the top two buttons of his white shirt and gulped down some air.

A lump caught in his throat as a memory popped out of nowhere to bug him. It was the day he was supposed to marry Rhett Smithson. Why he was thinking about being jilted was anyone’s business. He had enough on his plate without throwing that in the mix. It wasn’t exactly a happy time.

He locked eyes with her as she turned his way. There wasn’t anything he wanted to say to her, but it didn’t stop him staring. She was the sore he couldn’t stop touching. It took a while, but she looked away first, which he knew she would. She always did. He could stare at her forever. She was his weakness.

Peeling himself from the gate, he wobbled on a rock close to the pond, and one foot slipped through the mud straight into the water.

‘Great!’ He huffed, shaking his dripping trouser bottom. He headed to his own home, which was slightly back from his parents’ house on their land.

The barn conversion was empty and quiet, as Heath lived alone. He wriggled out of his shoes, socks, and black bottoms as he shuffled across the floor in the open-plan area, tripping over himself in the process.

Rhett walked in as he tossed his trousers across the cream tiles beneath him, leaving him standing there in his white shirt and black boxer shorts.

He jumped, surprised to see her in his home for the first time. Words were about to flow but her eyes on his bare legs caused his mouth to close and his brow to lift.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. Her tone was quiet but the natural huskiness in her voice remained.

‘I slipped in the pond.’ He replied, waking slightly. ‘The one by the Gatehouse,’ he decided to add, not knowing why he was telling her at all.

A small twitch hit the corner of her mouth. ‘I saw.’

Oh.

Heath swallowed the dryness in his mouth, then gestured to the polished pine stairs leading to the only other level in his home. ‘I was just going to get changed.’ He walked that way, then stopped when she followed.

‘Will you be coming back?’ she asked, almost toppling into him.

‘Of course,’ he snapped. ‘It’s my dad’s wake.’ He watched her hazel eyes fall and immediately regretted his tone.

Benton had been like a father to Rhett. She was hurting too. There was no need for them to have a row today.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, as it was hard to say that word to her.

‘Do you need my help with anything?’ she blurted, looking as awkward as he felt.

Heath glanced down at his legs. ‘Think I can manage.’

‘I didn’t mean dressing you. I… I meant, other stuff.’

While she was staring at his feet, he traced over each of her pale freckles, noticing they were covered in a light shade of foundation, which was unusual, as Rhett didn’t wear makeup.

‘Rhett, what are you really doing here?’

She shrugged one shoulder and turned on her heel. ‘Just keeping busy.’

He watched her swirl her strawberry-blonde hair around one hand and quickly sweep it up into a bun as she headed for the door. There was now a space between her hairline and the scoop of her black dress, and he couldn’t help but home in on that area, remembering the times he’d kissed that exact spot, all those years ago in his teens.

Rhett turned, jolting him out of his trance with her neck. She marched back to stand before him, peering up to meet his face. ‘You know…’ She trailed off, causing him to frown.

‘Know what?’ he asked, locking eyes with her.

She didn’t reply.

Heath was stock still, feeling as though one movement had the potential to detonate something. What, he wasn’t sure.

‘Dad.’ Willow came to an abrupt halt in the doorway.

Heath and Rhett flinched, then created a wider gap between them.

‘Mum?’ Willow entered fully, frowning at her parents. Her eyes suddenly widened as she glared at her mother. ‘Oh, you didn’t, did you?’

‘Didn’t what?’ asked Heath.

Rhett shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Didn’t what?’

Willow flapped one hand. ‘Oh, never mind. I just… What are you doing in here, Mum?’

‘Leaving,’ said Rhett, heading for the door.

‘You might as well say what you came here to say,’ said Heath, closing in on her.

Rhett grabbed the wrought-iron door handle. ‘I didn’t come here to say anything. I was just checking on you.’

He wasn’t buying that for a second. ‘Our daughter seems to think you have something on your mind.’

Willow stepped in between them. ‘I don’t. My mistake.’

Heath narrowed his eyes at her.

You never were a good liar.

She smiled sweetly, reminding him of Rhett when she was younger.

‘It’ll come out sooner or later, so spit it out.’

‘Now’s not the time, Dad.’

He pointed at Rhett. ‘You’ve not once stepped foot in here. Avoided it like the plague. So, why now? What’s the big deal?’

Rhett shook her head slightly and shuffled one foot so it was resting outside the building. ‘I was just making sure you were okay, that’s all.’

He turned his attention to his daughter. ‘And what did you think her agenda was?’

Willow started to curl the bottom of her light-brown locks as her mouth twisted to one side.

Rhett huffed loud enough for all to hear. ‘She thought I was asking you about your dad’s will.’

Heath was even more confused. ‘Why would you ask about that?’

‘The Gatehouse Café.’

‘What about it?’

‘Benton once told me that when he dies, he’ll leave that section of land to me and my sister.’

It had been a long day, and Heath had tried hard to put on a polite face to everyone when all he wanted to do was cry his heart out. Being the eldest child, and his mother too distraught to make arrangements, he felt the world fall onto his broad shoulders. He made sure the day went well and everyone knew what they were doing, and with the exception of slipping in the pond, there were no hiccups. Until now.

‘This land belongs to my mum,’ he told her flatly.

Rhett turned to leave. ‘I know. It doesn’t matter,’ she said quietly, but he heard.

‘Of course it matters,’ he snapped. ‘My dad’s ashes haven’t even made it off the Isle of Wight yet. They’re just blowing south-west of Pepper Bay. You think you can wait till they hit the mainland before talking wills?’

‘I’m not here to talk about his will, Heath.’

He banged his hand into his chest. ‘But that’s on your mind, yes? Not seeing how I am.’

‘No. I know he left everything to Fran.’

‘Too right he did.’

‘I’m going back.’

‘How about you go home.’

‘Dad!’

‘No, Willow. I don’t want her here.’

Rhett stormed out, leaving Heath fuming over… he wasn’t exactly sure what.

‘That was really mean, Dad.’

He headed to the stairs, with his fists clenched and his stomach swirling with sickness and rage. ‘Go help your gran, Willow.’

‘Yeah, I’m going. How about you go and apologise to Mum. She didn’t deserve that. She thought the world of Grandad. I was the one who got it wrong. I heard a conversation between Aunt Vivien and Uncle Finn about the land for the Gatehouse and the promise Grandad made, and I assumed Mum was here to talk about it, that’s all.’

Heath turned on the first step. ‘Well, maybe she would have if you hadn’t walked in.’

‘I know now she wasn’t here for that. She said she was checking on you. Mum doesn’t lie.’

Oh, yes, she does.

The memory of Rhett telling him over and over how much she loved him, that she wanted to marry him, and how she couldn’t wait to live with him flashed through his mind.

He groaned at Willow, flapped one hand, and went to his bedroom to get changed, tossing dark jeans and a black jumper onto his bed.

The door downstairs slammed, leaving him back on his own. A headache loomed as the back of his neck tightened. Was there anything else that could wind him up?

He entered the en suite and put his foot up into the sink to wash away the pond smell lurking. When he’d designed the room, he’d thought of how much Rhett would appreciate having a small bathroom to the side of their bedroom.

Enough already. I’m not going over that crap. Get out of my head.

He cleaned himself up, splashed his face, and went to the window. Rhett was walking across the field in the distance. Normally her posture was strong, raised, showing her independence and feistiness, but she looked unrecognisable as she headed back home to Lucky Riding Stables. Her head was low, her march slow, and he could almost feel her pain. He was good at that. Feeling her pain.

‘Sorry, Rhett,’ he whispered into the breeze blowing past his window.

She stopped for a moment, and he wondered if she could sense him watching her. Her head turned to one side, and he knew the only thing in that direction was Willow’s treehouse that he’d built many years ago in the big old tree.

Is she thinking about us? Does she ever think about us?

He came away from the view and sat on the edge of his large bed. A pain hit his temple and heart all at once, bringing tears to his eyes and tightness to his chest. He lowered his head into his hand and wept.

Life had changed once more.