40. Oliver
Oliver
I counted the balls of wool for the third time. “Are you sure this is all you’ve got?”
My mother touched my shoulder and smiled. “I still can’t believe you’re home.”
“Mom, I need to get this back to the States. There will be plenty of time for hugs once I’m home for good.
” Unfortunately. As much as I loved seeing my family and helping myself to a few of my mother’s home-cooked meals, I still wished things had turned out different.
Being back in New Zealand, surrounded by fleece and sheep and the earthy scent of early spring reminded me of everything I was going to have to deal with by coming home.
“One more hug then I’ll get back to counting.” My mother opened her arms, and I pulled her into an embrace.
“Family hug.” Isla crashed into both of us, flinging her arms around my mother’s shoulders. “I still can’t believe you came back.”
“Only long enough to get the wool.” I disentangled myself from their arms. “I’ve got to get this back to Trinity and then I’ll be back for good.
” For good. The words seemed to reverberate through my head then settle to the bottom of my gut with a thud.
I regretted my involvement with Wyatt, but why couldn’t there have been another way to ensure I stayed in the States?
Isla zipped up the huge suitcase my parents had stored under their bed since their honeymoon. “One bag down, one to go. You sure they’ll let you bring all of this on the plane?”
“I don’t see why not.” I packed skeins of wool into a smaller matching bag.
What did it say about my family that the last time my parents had used the luggage they’d only gone to Auckland for a long weekend?
And that had to have been at least five years ago.
My whole family was made up of homebodies.
They didn’t like to stray far from the homestead.
Just thinking about never leaving the farm again made my fingers itch, my heart race.
“Isla’s been such a huge help since you’ve been gone.” My mother’s gaze settled on my sister’s face. “She’s been working with the local shops but also made some headway with a few places as far away as Sydney.”
“Is that right?” I glanced at my younger sister whose face lit up with pride. Maybe my sister had the same interest in business that I’d developed.
“I’ve had some success,” Isla admitted as her cheeks flushed. “I’ve been wanting to try crossbreeding some of the flock. If we could come up with something as soft as the merino but a little thicker, we might be able to differentiate ourselves from some of the other wool being sent from this area.”
I lost count of the skeins I’d been packing. “Dad’s going to let you mess around with the breeding?”
“Oh, no one’s doing anything with the breeding lines.” My mother’s hand fluttered in the air, like she could dismiss the idea with a wave. “You know your father won’t let go of his breeding bible that easily.”
The breeding bible. I laughed. My dad could trace the lineage of his flock through generations. While I was growing up, I often joked that he valued his breeding bible over the St. James edition any day.
“Well, we’ve talked about it,” Isla said. A slight smile played over her lips.
I mused on that. My sister actually seemed to like thinking about the sheep. “What else have you been up to?”
“Not much.” Isla snapped out of her dreamy state and continued to nestle skeins into the bag.
“That’s not true. You’ve been seeing an awful lot of the Milburn boy from up the road.” My mom scowled but I could tell by the way her lips turned up at the corner she was joking.
“Peter? My little sister is going with Peter Milburn?” I tapped Isla on the top of the head then bounced back out of reach.
“Hey, now. Options around here are fairly limited, don’t you think?” Isla grinned. It wasn’t the grin of someone who was settling on an undesirable option though. It was the kind of smile I’d seen on Trinity’s lips. Before…damn…before I’d gone and ruined it all.
“So my baby sister has fallen for one of my old classmates?” It would be a good match.
Peter’s family was in the wool industry as well.
The Milburn name had been associated with sheep farming in the area almost as long as my own.
“What do the two of you talk about when you get together? Lambs? Knitting?”
Isla gave me a sweet, teasing smile. “Oh come on now, Ollie. None of the local boys can knit half as good as you.”
There it was. Heat raced up my neck and flooded across my face.
“Settle down now. Oliver should be proud of his knitting. Most men seem to be all thumbs when it comes to needlework.” Mom brushed the jab off like it meant nothing.
Meanwhile, my face burned like I’d dunked my head in a vat of boiling water.
I’d never forget the way my classmates had teased and taunted me when they found out my mother had me knitting hats and mittens for the local shops.
Times had been tougher back then and I’d been more than willing to pitch in and try to earn a few dollars by working our handspun wool into items the tourists would pay for.
Until the boys at school found out.That was one of the reasons I’d been so keen on getting away.
I’d grown up since then and put the jabs and snickers behind me.
It helped that I’d told anyone and everyone who would listen that I wasn’t coming back.
That I had bigger plans than taking over the family business and cementing another generation of Martins in the wool industry.
But I’d failed. My sister’s new boyfriend might be one to laugh the loudest when I came home to stay.
I might not be looking forward to it, but it was my own fault.
The sooner I made peace with the fact I’d be spending the rest of my life doing the one thing I’d never wanted, the sooner I could get on with things.
And if Peter wanted to mock me for learning a new skill, one that might help my family’s fortune, well then, he could bring it on.
I might have messed things up with Trinity, but I’d learned a few things from her in the process.
She didn’t let what other people thought affect her.
Her entire family was basically waiting for her to fail, and it didn’t seem to faze her at all.
If my neighbors and old pals wanted to mock me, they could try.
“Is this enough?” Isla’s voice interrupted my internal war. She gestured to the suitcases and boxes full of wool.
“Yes, I think that should be plenty.” I nodded.
“This woman must be pretty special for you to hand deliver our entire inventory.” Isla zipped up the last suitcase. “What happened? I didn’t think you’d be coming back at all.”
Our mother had left us alone to finish up while she headed back to the house to start dinner. I figured it didn’t make sense to keep secrets any longer. “I screwed up. Tried to fix it so I’d have a job in the States and wouldn’t have to come home.”
“Do you love her?”
“What?” My younger sister might be a romantic, but the question surprised me, even coming from her. “What difference does that make? I’m the reason her business might not open. She hates me.”
“But do you love her?” My sister looked at me, her eyes wide. “If you love her, you can’t let it end like this.”
“What do you know about love?” I made a move to pass her, but she grabbed onto my arm.
“I know enough to see how much you’re hurting.”
I glared at the spot where her fingers wrapped around my arm. “And you learned all this by your epic love affair with Peter Milburn? The fellow who used to blow spitwads into your braids?”
Isla rolled her eyes. “So what if I have? If you love this woman you need to fight for her. No matter what you’ve done, she’ll have to forgive you.”
“And why is that?” For a heartbeat I wondered if Isla’s words could possibly be true.
“Because love is all that matters.”
I wrenched my arm away. My sister was still the same stars-in-her-eyes dreamer she’d always been. “Not this time.”