Chapter Three #2
Boots were kicked off at the flyscreen door before it slapped closed behind them, and a loud rumble of chuckles sounded.
Caleb lingered for another moment, just to make sure they didn’t think about setting a socked foot back outside.
The laughter faded and a splash sounded—they were by the pool, or had fallen into it.
Either way, he was confident they were staying put for the night.
And as he listened to the peaceful silence left in the wake of his obligated intervention, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar pang of solitude closing in on him.
Going home to an empty house was both a blessing and a curse.
On the one hand, he loved the time to recharge on his own terms, but on the other, he would give almost anything to have a beautiful, devoted woman to share quality time with.
If only he could find his forever person.
But once bitten, twice shy—coming home early to discover his girlfriend of three years in bed with another man had broken his heart into a million tiny little pieces.
Having failed at trying to piece the bleeding shards back together, he was beginning to lose hope that his happily ever after would ever eventuate.
He knew he had to find the courage to unshackle his heart for that to happen.
Otherwise it was going to take one hell of a strong woman to break the chains.
And he didn’t want to put that responsibility on anyone.
Arriving back in front of the pub, he tugged his jacket and helmet on then mounted his bike once again.
His shift may have ended, but the weight of duty still lingered on his broad shoulders, along with a different heaviness—the kind that came from too many solitary nights and the lingering pain of love lost. Not that he wanted to focus too much time and energy on what he lacked.
Instead, he wanted to be grateful for what he had.
A great career, an awesome place to call home, a kind-hearted sister that he enjoyed spending time with, and his health.
He revved the motorcycle’s engine to life, and the roar of horsepower echoed as he edged out of town and towards the long winding road that would lead him home, to the quiet embrace of his homestead and the loyal companionship of his dog, Jet.
As he came to a stop at an intersection, with the Italian motorbike idling beneath him, his eyes were drawn to the looming gates of the cemetery across the junction.
Somewhere beyond the tall wrought iron would be Claire’s final resting place.
Another life taken too soon. A pang tugged at his heart, a mix of grief, longing and apprehension.
Easing his grip on the clutch, he passed by the gravesites, and his gaze lingered on the silhouette of an angel statue—a silent moonlit sentinel.
One day he’d find himself in there too, among the departed.
But until then he had so much life to live.
With a firm grip on the throttle, he accelerated, and underneath the vast expanse of velvety black dusted with millions of dazzling stars, he chased the white lines of the quiet country highway where his thoughts drifted to the future, to the children he longed to have, and the emotional scars that yearned for healing.
And that was when he thought of her, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
Would seeing her again stir up old feelings?
Could they ever truly leave the past behind?
On the lowdown, he’d been told Nyah Love was returning for her mother’s funeral.
But he was going to have to see her, back in the place that had almost destroyed her, to believe it.
If she chose not to come, he wouldn’t, couldn’t blame her.
Claire had made her bed, when it had come to her life of solitude.
Nyah wasn’t to blame for anything, not in the slightest. And neither was her wonderful father, Robert.
Reaching the only straight on his way home, he opened the throttle, and the deep throaty rumble of the Ducati provided a sense of calm as he sliced through the crisp night air.
As the inner cobwebs were blown out, he relished the darkness enveloping him, broken only by the occasional verandah light of the distant farmhouses that were scattered like fallen stars in the vast expanse of landscape.
However, his mind wasn’t focused on the picturesque surroundings.
It was instead consumed by thoughts of his impending reunion with Nyah if she attended her mother’s funeral.
Even though he hadn’t seen or heard from her in years, and neither had his sister, he could still see her so clearly in his mind.
Those piercing blue eyes that once mirrored a summery blue sky, her glowing smile that could light up the deepest, darkest parts of him, and her heart, so kind and loving.
She really was a woman worthy of bringing a man to one knee.
If only he’d had the chance to be that lucky man.
However, Nyah Love had inadvertently left him a broken young man, and to rub salt into his wounds, he’d given his heart a second time to a woman who’d crushed it without a care.
The betrayal Kim had left in her wake was like an open wound that refused to heal cleanly, and the anguish Nyah had caused when she’d left town, and him, had left a permanent mark upon his heart.
Both were different types of heartbreak, but each was a deep pain, a hurt that he’d grown accustomed to and an unwanted companion on his journey through life.
If only he could find a way to let it all go.
His mind was a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions—apprehension and hope swirling against the backdrop of his focus on the road ahead—and the landscape blurred into a hazy collage of verdant greenery and looming shadows.
After a couple more bends, the familiar silhouette of his homestead came into view and his muscles relaxed ever so slightly at the sight, but his mind remained vigilant, his thoughts whirling like leaves caught in a breeze.
His two-storey home was a majestic sight, standing tall on the highest point of his property against the backdrop of the night sky, facing the new stables and timber-fenced horse paddock.
A dream come true. Having bought the place as a fixer-upper six years earlier, he was so proud of how far he’d come with the renovations.
The freshly painted exterior boasted wide verandahs dotted with potted plants and comfy chairs, and it was surrounded by sprawling gardens that he’d tended to with meticulous care.
His hands, so often clenched around handcuffs or paperwork, found solace in the earth as he coaxed life from the soil.
His green thumb was a gift passed down from his dad, and as for his love of cooking, that was all thanks to his apron-wearing, CWA-devoted mum.
His parents were now chasing their nomadic dream of caravanning around Australia, and he missed them like crazy.
He’d never thought he’d see the day that two hard workers like Shirley and Rodger Hart would retire, sell their smallholders acreage and buy matching terry robes and fluffy slippers, but hey, life worked in mysterious ways.
If only he could find a love like theirs, he’d die a very happy man.
Easing through the front gates of Hart Acres and over the first of two cattle grids, he dropped down to first gear as he headed towards the house.
Gravel crunched beneath his tyres as he pulled into the carport at the side of the homestead and killed the engine.
After dismounting and tugging off his helmet, he felt the peaceful silence of the countryside envelop him, only broken by the distant snorts and shuffling of his two stockhorses in the nearby paddock.
Up the back of the property, his small herd of cattle lowed to one another.
For him, home was more than just a physical place—to be a real home it needed to be filled with tender memories and the pitter-patter of tiny feet, all of which he’d thought possible before his world had been turned upside down.
Twice.
Looking back, he knew he and Kimmy never would have lasted the distance.
As for Nyah, they would have lasted an eternity.
He made his way towards the verandah, now flooded with sensor light, and a dark shape emerged from the shadows—a German shepherd with a gleaming black and white coat illuminated by the silvery moonlight.
Nine-year-old Jet, ever loyal and vigilant, trotted over to meet him, his tail wagging in joyful greeting and his ball of the week lodged between his teeth.
‘Hey, mate,’ he said affectionately, his voice softening as he reached down to ruffle the dog’s soft fur. The simple act grounded him, anchoring him to the present moment. ‘How was your day?’
With an excited spin, Jet dropped the ball as an offering and an invitation, and for a moment, as Caleb studied his dog’s sincere, dark eyes, the void inside him seemed less vast. He hated leaving his four-legged buddy alone so much lately, but he didn’t have a choice—Jet had proven himself untrustworthy the few times Caleb had given in and taken him to work for the day.
Breaking free of the station then inviting himself behind the bakery window to unceremoniously enjoy half a tray of cream buns was one thing, the number-twos aftermath of such an adventure was another.
And then there was the time he’d peed up the butcher’s-shop window.
Not classy, not classy at all.
Becoming impatient, Jet picked the ball up, then dropped it closer to Caleb’s feet.
‘Come on then,’ he said with a smile, picking up the slobber-soaked tennis ball and tossing it into the air. ‘Catch it, buddy.’