Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
All she wanted was to fall into the oblivion of sleep.
Spending the entire day interacting with a house full of people had been exhausting, which she’d expected, but realising just how much her new friends meant to her had thrown Beth for a gigantic loop.
And, of course, the bombshells Noah had dropped only added to her overwhelm.
He wanted her to stay. Had promised to turn her aunt’s house into the home of her dreams. Had claimed that she belonged here. For god’s sake, he’d even mentioned the L word! What was she supposed to do with that?
Now, standing on the doorstep to the farm’s original homestead, the small colonial cottage, Beth tried to push Noah from her mind. She didn’t have the strength right now to think about him or the things he’d said.
Ellie fumbled with the key but eventually got the door unlocked, then hit the lights as they crossed the threshold.
Beth blinked rapidly and, once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, took in her surroundings—and holy cow! She’d been distracted on the short walk here, mulling over the day’s events, but now it hit her—this was the first property Noah had renovated. And it was magnificent.
Given the size and age of the building, she’d expected to enter a cramped and cluttered space, but the interior was cavernous, the raked ceiling opening up the living area while exposed beams allowed it to retain its country charm.
‘Impressive, huh?’ Ellie caught her gawking. ‘I’ve got to give it to Noah, when it comes to building and design, he knows his stuff.’
Beth snapped her mouth shut and made a non-committal sound.
Ellie tilted her head and eyed Beth curiously, then grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to an extravagantly plush couch. Beth let her, but only because it looked like a great place to lie down.
‘So what did he have to say for himself earlier? I’ve been dying to know.’
‘Ellie,’ Beth moaned, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘But you’re my only hope! He wouldn’t tell me, either.’
Gah! Stupid, perfect man.
Ellie leaned forward, her eyes glittering with excited anticipation. ‘He asked you to stay, didn’t he?’
Beth sighed and stared up at the ceiling. ‘How did you know?’
‘It wasn’t half obvious. I saw the present he got you.’
Groaning aloud this time, Beth grabbed a cushion and buried her face in it, mortified. Had all the Brennans known that Noah would try to talk her into staying? Is that why they’d all gotten up and left the room?
Ellie snatched the cushion away, but Beth grabbed another. Ellie took that one, too, and then Beth was out of options.
Ellie pulled Beth into her side. ‘Tell me what you’re so afraid of?’
Giving into her fate, Beth hunkered down and snuggled closer, then shut her eyes and answered honestly. ‘Everything.’
Ellie said nothing but began stroking Beth’s forehead. The sensation was so soothing, so calming, that Beth soon relaxed. Just as she was on the brink of sleep, she heard Ellie speak.
‘We all get scared sometimes, Bethie, but when things are really bad, that’s when you need to lean on the people who care about you.’
Deep down, Beth knew Ellie had a point, but all she could think about as she drifted off were the times she’d asked Rosie about her father.
With the simplest of questions, she’d watched her mother disappear, become an empty shell of a human.
The pain Rosie had felt as a result of losing the man she loved had literally rendered her incapable of sharing his memory, and Beth refused to put herself through that sort of torture.
In the back of her mind, though, was another niggling realisation—Rosie had never leaned on anyone when things got hard.
She’d fought her own battles, internalised her demons, and that hadn’t worked out too well for her.
So perhaps Ellie was right and the key to not turning out like her mother was to lean on the people who cared about her.
People like the Brennans.
And with that thought, she finally let sleep claim her.
* * *
The lowing of cattle, though distant, filtered into Beth’s subconscious. She cracked her eyes open and blinked against the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window.
The homestead. She was in the Brennans’ original homestead and, apparently, had spent the night on the couch.
With a groan, she pushed up onto an elbow and glanced around, looking for Ellie, but found no sign of her. She’d probably already left for the main house. Celia was serving breakfast at nine and—Beth glanced at her phone—it was already eight thirty.
Flopping back onto the downy couch cushions, she sighed as yesterday’s events came flooding back and stirred up a bunch of unwelcome emotions—an equal mix of deep-seated yearning and unadulterated fear.
Noah had forced her to think about her options.
She could stay … or she could leave, just like she’d always planned.
She could risk the life she’d built for herself in Townsville or turn her back on these people, this town—a place where she had the potential to belong.
Either way, she’d be suffering a loss and realising a dream, but how on earth was she meant to choose between two things she desperately wanted?
With a huff of frustration, she rose from the couch, grabbed her overnight bag and dragged her feet to the bathroom, where she showered and got ready for the day, unable to think of anything else but the decision she’d have to make sooner or later.
She was halfway through brushing her teeth when the solution to her predicament hit her. It seemed so obvious now. Strange that she hadn’t thought of it sooner. But she’d been thinking in black and white, and the answer lay smack bang in the middle of the grey area.
Grinning around her toothbrush at the thought of being able to have her cake and eat it too, she leaned over the sink and spat—right as a knock sounded on the front door.
Knowing that if it were Ellie, she’d simply barge right in, Beth rinsed her mouth and stuck her head out into the living area.
‘Come in!’
After patting her face dry, she exited the bathroom to find Noah closing the front door, an old blue shoebox held in one hand. Her heart leapt when she saw it was him; she couldn’t wait to tell him of her decision. After all, it had been his advice that’d put the idea in her head.
When he turned, however, he barely glanced at her. ‘Morning.’
Her excitement dimmed. ‘Good morning.’
Crossing to the kitchen, he placed the shoebox on the counter and gestured towards it. ‘The rest of Pru’s photos. You should have them.’
‘Thank you.’ He was always thinking of her. Evidently, even after they argued.
She decided, though, that she wouldn’t look at the photos just yet; there’d be plenty of time to pore over them later.
For now, she needed to live in the present, not the past, and in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to tell Noah her news …
only she didn’t know how. Not when he was being so standoffish.
She needed to figure out how to mend their rift.
‘Okay,’ he said when the silence stretched between them. ‘I guess I’ll see you at breakfast.’
He turned to leave and she panicked.
‘Wait!’
Halting mid-stride, he slowly turned to face her.
She cast her eyes around the open-plan room, looking for inspiration, a reason to make him stay.
‘This place is amazing, Noah,’ she told him, gesturing at the glorious country kitchen and cosy sitting area. ‘You’re really talented.’
His only response was a nod.
‘And I didn’t fail to notice these. Your trademark, right?’ She pointed to the framed photographs hanging on the wall and threw Noah a hopeful smile. ‘Will you tell me about them?’
She held her breath as his gaze flitted between her and the pictures, and then, thank god, his solemn expression lifted and he shoved his hands in his pockets and moved towards her. She let out a relieved sigh. She could do this.
‘Is that your dad?’ she asked, pointing to one of the photographs.
Though Mick looked younger in this image than he did in the photo in Noah’s entryway, the curly black hair was a dead giveaway.
Wearing short shorts that screamed of the eighties, he stood beside a sapling with an arm resting on a shovel and his hip cocked.
‘Yep,’ Noah confirmed, ‘and that’s the red flowering gum out front.’
Beth squinted at the house in the background of the photo. ‘Oh, right! I hardly recognised the place.’ Back then, there was no charming white picket fence in front of the homestead and the corrugated tin on the roof was mottled with rust.
Seeing that photograph did something to her.
The disrepair of the old building made it obvious that it had stood for many years and had no doubt been home to Mick and many others, but despite capturing the history of the place, the image also depicted the birth of something new—a tree that would grow tall, offering a shady resting spot for all who came after.
It spoke of the steadfastness of house and land, the anchors that connected generations.
She moved onto the next photo—a black-and-white image of a small boy and an old man crouched in front of a fireplace. Squinting at the little boy’s features, she gazed up at Noah. ‘Is this you?’
‘Yeah,’ he said softly, ‘that’s me and Gramps.’
The adoration in his voice made her smile. As did the expression on his face in the photo. He looked to be about five or six and was gazing up at his grandfather with rapt attention, his love and respect evident, while his grandfather appeared to be imparting an important life lesson.
A twinge of sadness washed over her and she spared a thought for the grandparents she’d never known.
‘Do you remember what he was saying to you?’
‘He was teaching me how to add a log to the fire. Made sure I’d know how to do it safely once I grew big enough.’