Where the Heart Is

Chapter 36

CHAPTER

36

After leaving Hills Homestead, Sawyer wanted nothing more than to speed back to the motel, pack, check out, and head back to Mila. But she’d pricked his conscience when she’d asked if he’d visited Allison yet and he knew what he had to do.

He’d put off visiting his sister since he’d arrived in town for the simple fact they rarely spoke anymore. He saw Phoebe and Jocelyn annually, but that’s only because he moved around the country for work and they caught up for a quick drink. But the last time he’d seen Allison had been at their dad’s funeral five years ago, and even then it had been awkward. Faking grief didn’t lend itself to bonding, and his sisters had been as relieved as him when the wake ended so they could all go back to their lives.

With the big age gap between him and his sisters, he wondered if their father had always been a prick, or if it had been his unexpected birth that set Henry off. The thing is, his sisters weren’t close to their father but that could be because Phoebe and Jocelyn moved away as soon as they turned eighteen and, like him, they never returned. Only Allison had stuck around, and he had a feeling that’s because she’d made the mistake of marrying a man like Henry.

He thought they might talk about it at the wake, but they’d made small talk mostly, stilted conversation centring around their respective careers while nibbling on stale cucumber sandwiches and drinking watered-down alcohol. Their mother hadn’t attended the funeral and none of them blamed her. Bernadette had called them on the day, a group chat where she offered her condolences for losing their father but hadn’t wanted to accept any in return. At least his mother had finally grown a backbone and put the past behind her once and for all.

Jocelyn and Phoebe didn’t have kids, but Allison had two, Brett and Aimee, who he sent digital gift cards to on their birthdays and Christmas. They were ten and eight, but he’d never met them. They hadn’t come to the funeral, staying at home with Alli’s husband Mick instead, and his sister didn’t seem to care. During their occasional text or phone call, she never asked when Sawyer might visit. Like everyone, she assumed once he left Ashe Ridge he’d never return. Which had been his intention, until Will had coerced him into attending Mila’s wedding.

Life had a funny way of kicking him up the arse when he least expected it. Returning to town had been shocking enough without adding falling for Mila to the mix.

Not that he was stupid enough to fall in love, but she’d captivated him in a way he’d never expected, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. If their night together had been spectacular, this morning in the cottage … he got hard just thinking about it.

Not the best when he intended on visiting his sister, so he stopped by the motel for a quick shower—a cold one—before packing and checking out. Thankfully, Shazza wasn’t around, and Maggie didn’t care he was leaving earlier than expected. With his bags in the boot, he made a stop at the bakery and toy shop before heading to Allison’s, keen to get this obligatory visit out of the way so he could head back to Hills Homestead.

He should’ve called to alert his sister, but he didn’t, for the simple fact he wanted to see if she was okay. If his suspicions were correct, and Mick resembled Henry in the husband stakes, knowing anyone would be dropping in meant putting on a show.

He’d seen his parents do it countless times—usually when one of his sisters’ friends were coming over, even a teacher on the odd occasion. Henry would be on his best behaviour, acting like a solicitous husband and a caring father, when nothing could be further from the truth. During those visits, his mum would be more chatty than usual, but her laughter would be forced and he often wondered if anyone saw beneath his family’s brittle surface to the festering wound beneath.

In reality, Henry was an abusive drunk who despised his wife and loathed his kids, and Bernadette put up with it for the sake of the family. Sawyer hated himself, wondering if he hadn’t come along when he did would his mum have escaped Henry years earlier. Sawyer loathed his father. Ironic, considering he was the only one at his father’s bedside in that nursing home in Melbourne as Henry drew his last breath. He’d done it because he had been in the city at the time and couldn’t see the point in Jocelyn and Phoebe flying in or Allison making the long drive, when Henry wouldn’t have recognised them anyway. Dementia had ravaged him at the end and his passing made it easier on everyone.

As Allison’s house came into view, a pang of guilt made Sawyer grip the steering wheel tighter. Run-down to the point of dilapidation, the weatherboard cottage with a tin roof had seen better days. Though the garden appeared well kept, and the kids’ bikes propped against the side wall looked newish. An older SUV sat under a listing carport and he could’ve sworn it resembled his mother’s old car.

He parked under the shade of a towering eucalyptus, grabbed the apple tea cake and the newest handheld video gaming devices. The gifts for the kids were excessive, and Allison would probably chastise him for trying to buy his way into her kids’ good graces, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t given his niece and nephew much thought over the years beyond the obligatory gifts and now that he was here, it didn’t sit well with him.

What kind of a selfish prick hadn’t met his sister’s kids after a decade?

Dread settled in his stomach as he knocked on the front door. This visit could be a disaster and he braced for a confrontation. Of his three sisters, he’d been closest to Allison, but that had been a long time ago and if she didn’t appreciate him lobbing on her doorstep, she’d let him know.

The door opened and he smiled at his sister’s open-mouthed shock. ‘Surprise, Alli.’

‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’ She folded her arms and glowered. ‘Brett said he thought he saw you in town the other day, but I said he had rocks in his head.’

Sawyer grimaced. ‘Sorry. I should’ve popped in earlier but there’s been a bit going on.’

She arched a brow. ‘Like?’

‘If you let me in, we can demolish this apple cake and I’ll tell you all about it.’

She huffed out an annoyed breath, but her expression softened. ‘Fine. But if you say one thing about the mess, I’ll clobber you with a cricket bat like I did when we were kids.’

He laughed at the memory, even if he’d bawled at the time. She’d been painting her toenails, probably to impress a boy at school, and he’d snuck up on her with a frog in his hands. She’d screamed, smeared her polish, picked up the closest weapon—his cricket bat—and whacked him on the arse, hard.

As he followed her into the house and down a hallway towards the kitchen, he noted the faded wallpaper, the peeling cornices, the dusty skirting boards. But contrary to what Allison had said, the rest of the place was tidy, and as they entered the kitchen, the simmering casserole in a slow cooker filled the air with tempting aromas of garlic, rosemary, and onion.

‘Dinner’s on because the kids always want me to help them with their homework when they get home.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘They’d love to meet their uncle, if you want to stay for dinner.’

The last thing Sawyer felt like doing was spending the entire afternoon talking to his sister, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he said, ‘I’ve got other plans for dinner, but I’d love to meet Brett and Aimee.’ He brandished the bag in his hand. ‘I’ve got something for them.’

‘Bribery will get you everywhere with those rascals. Want a cuppa?’

‘Yeah. Coffee. Black please.’

Guilt swamped him again that he’d stayed away so long his own sister didn’t know how he liked his coffee.

‘I’m assuming you came to town for Mila’s wedding?’

He nodded. ‘Will got Covid and couldn’t travel from London, so he asked me to attend in his stead.’

‘London, huh?’ She picked up a knife and started slicing the apple tea cake. ‘The last time I made it anywhere near a city was when I was in Melbourne for Dad’s funeral.’

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. ‘How’s Mick?’

‘Good,’ she said, a little too quickly, as she deposited the sliced cake and saucers on the table. ‘He’s doing handyman work these days.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Henry hadn’t been able to hold down a steady job and took on odd jobs when he could, calling himself a handyman. The only thing their father had been handy with was a beer bottle.

Sawyer would hazard a guess that’s why Allison had dinner cooking too. Mick would breeze in, asking ‘What’s for dinner?’ before scoffing the lot and abandoning the family to plonk himself in front of the TV. Of course Alli would be the one to help the kids with their homework. Mick would be too ‘tired’ to help, despite probably spending more time at the pub than he had doing actual physical labour.

‘So what happened with Mila’s wedding? I heard it got called off.’

‘Yeah.’ Though it wasn’t his place to elaborate. ‘Heard from Phoebe or Jocelyn lately?’

Sadness clouded her eyes, and she shook her head. ‘We all lead very different lives these days and the few times we chat, we’ve got nothing in common anymore.’

He understood. It’s exactly how he’d felt about all his sisters his entire life.

‘What about Mum?’

Allison shrugged. ‘She calls occasionally, and she sounds happy, so that’s enough for me.’

Alli didn’t have to add, ‘after all she put up with’ . If anyone in this world deserved happiness, their mother certainly did.

‘What about you? Anyone special in your life?’ Allison placed steaming mugs of coffee on the table and sat opposite him. ‘Please tell me something, anything, that’s more interesting than my part-time job at the supermarket or navigating parent–teacher interviews at the school.’

‘No one special,’ he said, unwilling to reveal a snippet about his burgeoning relationship with Mila. She’d be living in this town long after he left and the last thing she needed was more gossip about her romantic life. ‘Not that I’d tell you if there was.’

She laughed at his wink. ‘I assume you’re staying at the motel? Unless Shazza chased you off for that stunt with Simone.’

‘This town has a long memory,’ he said, with a smile. ‘As intimidating as it was running into her again, I have been staying at the motel.’

‘Have been? You’re leaving?’

Damn, maybe he should’ve lied to his sister about his new lodgings, but how would that look if she found out?

‘Actually, Mila said I could stay at the homestead.’

‘I heard she’s getting a farm stay off the ground. It’s great you get to test out the cottages firsthand.’

To his mortification, heat surged to his cheeks at exactly how he’d tested out one of those cottages with Mila.

But he managed a sedate, ‘Uh-huh,’ not correcting his sister’s assumption that he wouldn’t be staying in the main house.

‘You spent so much time at Hills Homestead I always thought you had a thing for Mila, but then you left town without a backward glance the day after your final exam.’

‘Will and Mila were my best mates and I hated being at home.’

If his blunt honesty surprised her, she didn’t show it. ‘I know it must’ve been tough on you after I moved out.’

He nodded. ‘The age gap between us sucked, because after you left, I was the only one left to bear the brunt of Dad’s crap.’

‘He was a mean son of a bitch sometimes.’

‘Try all the time.’

With his sisters gone, Henry turned his special brand of hatred on to him and Mum. She’d tolerated so much—because of her kids, he always suspected—and that’s something Sawyer had to live with every day.

Allison grimaced. ‘I hate to speak ill of the dead, but the speed with which the dementia took him was the best thing that ever happened.’

‘You’ll get no arguments from me.’

Sawyer hadn’t come here to rehash the past, so he said, ‘You’ve got a few hours before the kids come home, yeah? How about we stash this tea cake for later and head to the pub for a drink?’

Allison’s eyebrows rose. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a drink in the afternoon.’

‘Well, you’re a big girl, Alli, and this is the first time I’ve been back in this godforsaken town in fifteen years, so let’s go out and celebrate.’

The cheeky expression he remembered well—usually alerting him to her teasing him mercilessly about something—lit up her face. ‘You’ve twisted my arm. I can definitely go an espresso martini.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’