Where the Heart Is

Chapter 18

CHAPTER

18

After finishing her peppermint tea, Adelaide told Mila she needed to take a walk, the first excuse she came up with to escape her granddaughter’s all-seeing stare.

Hearing the hurt in Mila’s voice, seeing the pain in her eyes when she’d asked why Adelaide had stayed away so long … it broke her heart. She had to get out of that kitchen before she blurted the truth. Because even though many years had passed and her granddaughter was now a capable thirty-two-year-old, Mila didn’t deserve to bear the burden of Adelaide’s secrets.

Besides, her granddaughter had enough to contend with. The thought of how much stress Mila must be under to consider marrying Phil Baxter for his money … For the first time since she’d left, Adelaide wished she hadn’t been so carefree and had saved more than a small rainy-day nest egg, because she’d gift the lot to Mila in a heartbeat if she could.

She wanted to tell Jack but couldn’t betray Mila’s confidence when she’d specifically asked her not to, especially after discovering the depth of her granddaughter’s hurt by her abandonment. She’d give it a couple of days and try discussing it with Mila again. Hopefully, with her granddaughter’s permission, she could tell Jack and he’d save the day.

Considering he’d sold the farm and built a moderately sized cottage he’d have a lot of cash stashed away and Adelaide had little doubt he’d help Mila if her granddaughter asked. It would be convincing Mila to ask that would be the problem.

She strolled along a rough-hewn path, trying to ignore the many times she’d followed this same route decades ago. Jack had been an early riser and his clomping around usually woke her too. She was a night owl and liked to read or sketch until midnight—the only time she had any peace was after Mila, Will, and Jack went to bed—so being woken before dawn never sat well with her. Functioning on five hours sleep made her grumpy but she sucked it up, like many other aspects of her life that had made her unhappy.

The only bright side to waking earlier than she’d like had been walking this path as dawn broke, after she’d shared a cup of coffee with Jack—albeit in silence—and he’d headed off to tend the crops.

She’d loved watching the sky lighten, streaked with gold and honey and mauve, listening to the magpies waking up, savouring the cool that came before another scorcher.

Now, like then, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, filling her lungs with pure country air, allowing calmness to infuse her. She’d been practising meditation for thirteen years, taking it up about a year after she settled in Tally Bay. For the first twelve months after she’d left Ashe Ridge, she’d been untethered, reluctant to start anything because a small part of her expected Jack to show up on her doorstep and convince her to come back.

When that didn’t happen, she finally put down roots and immersed herself in all Tally Bay had to offer. Dawn power walks on the beach with a club, meditation, yoga, even moonlight dancing on the beach with a women’s empowerment group. That’s when she’d applied for a job at the juice bar after she became friends with Raven through the walking club and when she’d signed a long-term lease on her tiny studio. In her mind, once she’d hit that twelve-month milestone in Tally Bay with no sign of Jack, she allowed herself the luxury of feeling like she’d finally come home.

But here, now, with the familiar sights and smells and terrain, she knew deep down she’d always consider this place home.

Her parents hadn’t spoken to her since she left their mansion for the farm, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they’d disowned her. Both in their late nineties now, she assumed they’d leave their fortune to the local dog shelter when they died. She’d tried reaching out to them once, a few years after she’d settled in Tally Bay, but it had been a waste of time. Her father had hung up on her and when she’d called the next day, her mother had done the same. It saddened her to think Cam, Mila, and Will were her only family these days, and she rarely spoke to or saw any of them.

As she rounded a bend and caught sight of a new cottage and two others being built, with a yawning vista behind them, she knew why this place had the power to make her feel insignificant. Something about the sheer size of Hills Homestead, the strangeness of farming the land, the uncertainty of it, intimidated her. It always had, from the first time an excited Jack brought her here for a grand tour.

She’d been terrified by the magnitude of the place but hadn’t wanted to burst his bubble as he outlined the grand plans he had for the farm. Expanding legume crops. Building a bigger storage facility. Adding more silos. Besides, she’d been so smitten, so head over heels in love, he could’ve told her he was building a rocket to the moon and she would’ve stuck by his side.

Only later, when Cam had been born and she grew increasingly isolated on the farm from friends in town and her husband, who continued to withdraw with every passing day, did she resent being stuck here. That’s when she’d suggested Jack build her dream cottage and he’d practically laughed at her. He was barely making ends meet and she wanted him to invest in expensive sandstone? She could tolerate many things but being laughed at like she was an idiot for even suggesting it didn’t sit well with her.

That’s the first day the insidious doubt crept in and took root. Had she made a mistake marrying Jack and following his dream at the expense of hers?

She’d given up travelling to Europe to paint followed by an arts degree in Melbourne to be with him, convincing herself that she’d have plenty of time later to re-enrol. But that never eventuated, considering the time suck of raising a child and helping run a farm.

Instead, she did a part-time small-business accounting course so she could take over that side of things, leaving Jack to shoulder the onerous task of agriculture and its constant fluctuations.

She’d admired him for pursuing a degree in ag despite hating studying. He’d spend all day in the field, then be stuck reading books half the night, while attending a TAFE an hour away on weekends. She hadn’t minded at the time because he said he was doing it for them, for their family, and in the long run it would mean they’d get to spend more time together when the farm flourished and he could hire more employees.

It never happened.

Farming life wasn’t for the faint-hearted and in the end, it wasn’t for her.

Tears stung her eyes at the recollection of the day she confronted him. She’d waited until Mila finished her last Year 12 exam and told her she was leaving the next day. Mila had been about to spend the day celebrating with friends and Adelaide had hoped that would distract her after she delivered the bad news. Mila had been stoic—she got that from Jack—and hadn’t begged her to stay. Her granddaughter assumed her grandparents had a fight and it would resolve soon. Adelaide hadn’t corrected her. Instead, she’d packed her bags and left them at the back door so Jack would see them as he entered. He had, but his reaction hadn’t been what she’d expected.

She’d thought he’d take one look at the evidence of her intent to leave and talk to her. That they’d finally converse on a deeper level than they had for years. That they’d confront their lack of communication and intimacy issues, he’d beg her to stay, and she would.

Instead, he’d barely glanced at the suitcases before shrugging and heading to the sink to scrub his hands like he did at the end of every day. She’d asked him if he had anything to say and he shook his head, his jaw set, unable to meet her eyes as he trudged into the bedroom.

She yelled out, ‘Aren’t you going to say something, Jack? Do you care that I’m leaving? Don’t you want to salvage this marriage?’

His silence was all the confirmation she needed that her husband didn’t give a crap about her, and she’d left. Even as she stored her cases in the boot of her car, she’d half expected he’d come after her and talk her out of leaving. Even when she started the engine she waited, letting it idle for a few minutes, hoping he’d come out of the homestead and run towards her. Even as she drove away as slow as she possibly could, she couldn’t tear her gaze from the rear-vision mirror in case he ran after the car.

It didn’t happen and she drove away with tears streaming down her face. A glutton for punishment, she spent the night in that motel in Kaniva and sent Mila a text, knowing her granddaughter would tell Jack where she was. He still didn’t come for her, yet she waited, and when she drove away a few mornings later, leaving the Wimmera and Western Victoria behind her, she vowed to never look back.

So why was she so heartsore now?

Being back at Hills Homestead should be a stroll down a nostalgic lane; it shouldn’t leave her guilt-ridden. Her conversation with Mila precipitated it, but if she was being completely honest with herself, it was Jack being so civil—getting her car towed, offering her a place to stay, driving her around—that made her wish she’d come back sooner for closure.

Once she got divorce proceedings rolling, hopefully she’d feel better, putting a full stop on her past once and for all. To do that, perhaps she should stick around longer than anticipated? Getting the divorce finalised in person would go a long way to emphasising the finality of it. Her past behind her, her future to be lived.

But she couldn’t stay at Jack’s any longer. How awkward would it be, living in a bungalow on her husband’s land when he’d legally be her ex soon?

That’s when her gaze landed on Mila’s farm-stay project again, the first cottage almost completed, and the idea came to her. She could stay here, spend some quality time with her granddaughter, and go through the uncomfortable process of formalising her divorce without living in Jack’s pocket.

The perfect solution.

She hoped all parties agreed.