Chapter 19
Nineteen
The landscape changes were a constant distraction as they drew closer to Laire-Mor.
Giant hills rose from the flat land and sloped down to make valleys.
Some were dotted heavily with trees, while others were vast, barren-looking hills that seemed dry and rocky.
Here and there, paddocks of green ran along the road, followed by various crops and pasture, breaking the endless miles of brown.
Nullan was quiet at this time of the afternoon, with a long main street and a pretty park beside a wide, brown river. She judged it to be about the same size as Burrumba, but most of the buildings were made of sandstone instead of timber.
‘So this is the closest town to your parents’ place?’ Kenzie asked.
‘Yep. It’s not far now. Just a few k’s out.’
Within minutes, they’d left the town behind before turning off the main highway onto a smaller local road, once more out in the dry countryside.
Twenty-five minutes later, Ewan slowed down and turned onto a gravel road.
‘Are we getting close to your mummy and daddy’s house yet?’ Poppy asked, looking out the window with a slightly concerned look on her face. ‘It’s taking a very long time.’
‘It’s a very long drive,’ Ewan agreed, looking at her in the rear-vison mirror. ‘But we’re just about there. Just up this road a bit.’
‘Just up the road’ turned out to be another five or so kilometres.
The road branched off a number of times.
Ewan pointed out the truck sheds his family ran for their livestock as well as doing general livestock transport for clients.
Another road led to a feedlot the property ran as well.
Kenzie couldn’t see much as they drove past that turn-off, but she did catch a glimpse of part of the enormous stockyard set-up.
Ewan had clearly played down the scale of his family’s property and business.
Finally, they rounded a bend onto a long straight lined by silos, sheds and the occasional house that Ewan mentioned belonged to workers, until they came to a set of entrance gates and a tree-lined avenue where everything was magically green.
Bright-coloured flowers and lush lawn edged the driveway until the road widened into a circular roundabout in front of a large, two-storey sandstone homestead.
‘Wow,’ Poppy breathed from the back.
Kenzie could only echo her daughter’s amazement. Wow, indeed.
The house looked like something from the pages of a Country Living magazine. It would make the most amazing wedding venue. She stared at the house before her, with its manicured gardens and lawn, past-centuries’ romantic ambiance oozing from every square inch.
‘Here we are,’ he said, hands still firmly braced on the steering wheel and his eyes fixed on the house.
He let out a long breath, and Kenzie was going to ask if he was okay when a woman in white trousers and a pink floral top appeared through the enormous timber double front doors.
She was followed by a tall, grey-haired man dressed in a pair of caramel-coloured moleskins and a long-sleeved blue-and-white pinstripe button-up shirt.
‘Here we go,’ he said in a low tone, glancing across at her briefly. ‘You ready?’
Hell no. ‘Sure,’ she somehow managed, forcing back a rush of nausea.
What was the worst that could happen, they hated her, and she had to turn around and fly home tomorrow?
Kenzie experienced a moment of panic as Ewan opened his door and got out of the vehicle.
She had an insane urge to slide across to the driver’s seat and speed off with Poppy before anything went any further.
She took a fortifying breath. They were here, and life was about to change, whether she was ready or not.
As she got out and opened the back door, she noticed Poppy had gone quiet and, for the first time in forever, was sucking her thumb. She was such an intuitive kid, had she somehow picked up on the nervousness of the adults inside the car? A rush of love and protectiveness ran through her.
‘Hey, you’re okay. These people are Ewan’s mummy and daddy. I’m sure they’re lovely. Let’s go and say hello,’ she said, gathering her little girl into her arms after unclasping the harness of her car seat.
Ewan was hugging his mother when they reached his side, and she caught the slight dampness in the older woman’s eyes as she stepped back to allow her husband to shake their son’s hand.
‘Dad,’ Ewan said with a nod.
‘Son,’ the older man replied in a heavy Scottish brogue.
‘And this must be Kenzie and Poppy,’ his mother said, smiling brightly as she turned to them.
Kenzie thought she detected a slight nervousness in the woman’s face as she’d watched the men greet each other, and felt her own twinge of apprehension.
The moment was gone as quickly as it came, and she was instantly caught up in the woman’s warmth.
‘Hello,’ Kenzie said before she was hugged tightly, Poppy being caught in the exchange as well.
‘You smell like flowers,’ Poppy said with a giggle as the woman pulled away.
‘Do I?’ she asked, sending Kenzie an amused look.
Poppy nodded solemnly.
‘Do you like flowers?’ Ewan’s mother asked.
‘I do. I like the big blue ones best. They’re my nanny’s favourite. My grandad gives them to her all the time.’
‘How lovely,’ she said with a smile. ‘Your nanny’s very lucky.’ She looked back at Kenzie. ‘I’m Vera, and this is my husband, Callum,’ she said. ‘It’s so wonderful to meet you both.’ She gave Kenzie’s arm a slight squeeze before letting go.
‘Thank you for having us,’ Kenzie said, feeling marginally relieved that Ewan’s mother seemed happy to have them there. His father looked on sternly, and didn’t say a word.
‘Come inside, you’ve had a long trip. Peggy’s got tea ready and some of her special Empire biscuits,’ Vera said, looking at her son affectionately.
‘My favourite.’ Ewan grinned.
‘I know.’ His mother chuckled. ‘Come on,’ she said, waving them inside.
Kenzie lowered Poppy to the ground then held her hand and they climbed the five wide steps.
The spacious entrance had gleaming timber floors and a huge antique chandelier hung from a high ceiling.
A grand staircase with polished timber rails and tartan carpet in blue, red and purple flowed towards the second storey.
Vera led the way through a doorway on the right and Kenzie took in the large, sunny room with its cluster of sofas and tall, picturesque windows.
‘You have a beautiful home,’ Kenzie said as they took a seat on a nearby sofa.
‘Thank you, we’re very proud of it. She’s been a labour of love.’
‘More labour than love,’ Callum put in gruffly as he took a single seat across from them.
‘Oh, hush. You love this place as much as the rest of us,’ Vera scoffed. ‘We have a number of buildings on the property that are heritage-listed, including the main residence,’ she told Kenzie.
‘When was it built?’ she asked, curious.
‘It was built in 1864,’ Callum put in, ‘by the original owners, the McDonald family. They had this property for five generations before we bought it.’
‘Wow, that’s a lot of history,’ Kenzie said.
A woman came into the room carrying a silver tray, then setting it down on the coffee table in front of them with a clunk.
‘Thank you, Peggy,’ Mrs Campbell said. ‘Peggy, this is Kenzie and Poppy. Peggy has been our housekeeper for the last fifteen years.’
Peggy was not how Kenzie had imagined a housekeeper—not that she’d had much to do with anyone who actually had a housekeeper before.
She wore cargo shorts and a bright blue shirt with the property’s logo on the front.
Her light brown hair was streaked liberally with grey, and she wore it pulled back in a ponytail.
‘Hello.’ Kenzie smiled.
‘G’day. Nice to meet you,’ she said with a wide smile, before shifting her gaze to Poppy. ‘I made a special cake for you,’ Peggy said. ‘I heard chocolate was your favourite, is that right?’
Poppy’s eyes lit up at the delicious-looking cake the woman had carried in on her tray. ‘It is,’ she gasped, drawing smiles from the gathered adults.
‘Oh, Kenzie,’ Vera said, leaning forward to place a hand on her arm, ‘she’s an utter delight.’
Kenzie smiled down at her daughter. Not to boast, but she kind of thought so too, most of the time. Grumpy, tired Poppy was sometimes a little less of a delight.
‘Is it all right for her to have some?’ Peggy asked, seemingly just remembering she should probably ask the mother for permission before loading the child up with sugar.
‘That’s fine, she’d love to have a piece. It looks amazing.’
‘Peggy bakes pretty much everything from scratch. She’s an amazing cook,’ Vera said, and the other woman gave a slightly embarrassed scoff.
‘And those must be all for me,’ Ewan said, reaching for the other plate of what Kenzie assumed must be the famous Empire biscuits. Upon closer inspection, they were actually two biscuits sandwiched together with jam in the middle, topped with white icing and a small cherry.
‘They’re not all for you,’ Peggy said, slapping his hand away.
As Vera poured and served the tea and coffee, Peggy handed out cake. Kenzie listened to Ewan and his father exchange talk about the weather and rainfall, or lack of it. Kenzie hid a smile—it reminded her of Jack talking to his farming neighbours when they dropped by for a visit.
She studied the two men as they spoke. Ewan didn’t really look much like his father, with his dark hair and taller build, but there were similarities.
The same jawline and nose, maybe, she thought, as she switched her gaze unobtrusively between them.
The one thing that did stand out was their rather formal behaviour towards each other.
Even knowing parts of their history, it was far from the behaviour she’d expect from a father and son, especially after a long absence.