Being a doormat?’
‘What’s the alternative? Carrying a bucketload of guilt for the rest of my life?’ She tried to say it lightly but failed.
‘So you’ll go back to your mum.’
‘I might.’ But she knew she would.
‘Maybe your mum could come to you?’
‘What, here?’
‘Maybe not. It’d be a bit of a culture shock—from Sydney to Jindalee.’ She heard Matt’s smile rather than saw it. They hadn’t turned on the veranda lights and the darkness had crept up on their silence. ‘But Penny, if you make yourself a life, set up your catering company, do what you want to do... If your mum wants, then maybe she could choose to help you? Maybe she could live near you, on her own rather than in an unhappy marriage? You could help her on your terms rather than hers.’
‘She’ll never leave.’
‘Then that’s her choice,’ he said gently. ‘But it doesn’t have to be your choice. Attending the wedding should be your line in the sand. Maybe you should do something for yourself instead. Have a weekend in a fabulous resort. I’ll arrange it for you if you like, as a thank you for getting me out of such trouble at shearing. But, no matter what, just say no.’
‘Oh, Matt...’
‘You can do it,’ he growled and he rose and leant down and ran a finger lightly through her curls. The touch made her shiver. ‘If you can keep a mob of shearers happy, you can do anything. I believe in you, Penny Hindmarsh-Firth, so maybe it’s time for you to believe in yourself.’
And then there was another of those silences which fell between them so often. Mostly they felt natural. Mostly they felt good. But this one...
This one seemed loaded.
You can do it. That was what Matt had said.
Do what? What she really wanted?
If she really believed in herself, Penny thought, she’d get up from where she was sitting and she’d kiss this guy senseless. She might even demand he let go of his own ghosts and come to this luxury resort with her.
But she was Penny. Asking for love? She never had. She’d loved and loved and where had that got her?
You can do it.
Yeah, right. Not in a million years.
‘Goodnight, Penny,’ Matt said heavily then, as if he too acknowledged the impossibility of moving on.
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.
She felt sad. No, she felt desolate, but still she went inside and rang her mother. She said no and she meant it—and, despite the weird feeling of desolation, it felt like a beginning.
* * *
Two days later, the year’s wool clip was finally loaded for market. She saw the slump of Matt’s shoulders as he watched the line of trucks roll off the property. She thought of the work he’d put in, the late nights he’d pulled, the light on in his study until almost dawn.
And suddenly she thought...picnic?
She walked out to meet him in the driveway.
‘Well done,’ she told him.
‘The fleece is great. It feels a whole lot better than taking money from a bauxite mine.’
‘I’ll bet it does,’ she said and then added diffidently, ‘Want to come on a picnic?’
‘What?’ It was as if he hadn’t heard the word before.
‘You haven’t stopped for weeks,’ she told him. ‘Ron and Harv are rested. They can take over anything that needs to be done. Is there anywhere we can go? Somewhere you can’t see a single sheep? Honest, Matt, you must be seeing them in your sleep.’
‘If I fell asleep every time I counted them I’d be in trouble,’ he agreed, smiling faintly. ‘But now I need to get onto drenching.’
‘Matt. One day. Holiday. Picnic.’
And he turned and looked at her. ‘You must be exhausted too.’
‘If it’ll make you agree to a picnic, yes, I am.’
She met his gaze, tilted her chin, almost daring him to refuse.
Finally he seemed to relent. ‘There is somewhere...’ he said doubtfully. ‘But we’d have to take horses. The ground’s undermined by rabbit warrens and the four-wheel drive won’t get in there without damaging the ferns.’
‘And we don’t want that,’ she said, not having a clue what he was talking about but prepared to encourage him. And then she thought about it a bit more and said, less enthusiastically, ‘Horses?’
‘Do you ride?’
‘My mother bought me a pony when I was seven,’ she said, feeling more and more dubious. ‘It was fat and it didn’t go any more than a dozen steps before it needed a nap. So I know which side to get on and I’m not too bad at sitting. Anything else is beyond me. Is there anywhere else we can go?’
‘I have a horse who’ll fit the bill,’ he said cheerfully and her heart sank.
‘Really?’
‘Maisie’s thirty. Sam bought her for me when I was twelve, and I loved her. She and I ruled the land but she has become rather fat. And lazy. But she’ll follow Nugget to the ends of the earth. It’ll be like sitting on a rocking chair.’
But she’d been distracted from the horse.
‘Why do I keep loving your Sam more and more?’ she whispered. ‘He bought the son of his housekeeper a horse?’
‘Yeah, he did,’ Matt told her and his voice softened too. ‘He changed my life.’
‘Would he tell you to go on a picnic?’
‘I guess...maybe.’
‘Then let’s do it,’ she told him. ‘As long as I can borrow one of the living room cushions. How far is it?’
‘It’ll take about an hour.’
‘Two hours there and back?’ She took a deep breath and then looked up at Matt and thought...
‘I’ll take two cushions,’ she told him. ‘Let’s do it.’
* * *
Maisie was a fat old mare, used to spending her days snoozing in the sun and her nights nestled on the straw in Matt’s impressive stables. But she perked right up when Matt put the saddle on her, and when Penny tentatively—very tentatively—clambered aboard, she trotted out into the sunshine and sniffed the wind as if she was looking forward to the day as much as Penny.
Matt’s two dogs raced furiously ahead, wild with excitement, as if they knew the day would be special. Samson, however, had been racing with them since dawn. He was one tired poodle and he now sat in front of Matt, like the figurehead on the bow of an ancient warship. He looked supremely content and, fifteen minutes into the ride, Penny decided she was too.
The old horse was steady and placid. The day was perfect. Matt rode ahead, looking splendid on his beautiful Nugget. There was little for Penny to think about, or do, for Maisie seemed totally content to follow Nugget. And Matt.
As was Penny. ‘I’m with you,’ she muttered to Maisie. ‘Talk about eye candy. Wow...’
‘Sorry?’ Matt turned and waited for her to catch up. ‘I didn’t hear that.’
‘You weren’t meant to. Maisie and I were communing. I think we’re twin souls.’
‘I can see that,’ he said and grinned and the eye candy meter zipped up into the stratosphere. Matt was wearing jeans and riding boots, and an ancient khaki shirt, open at the throat,