Page 87 of Where the Heart Is

Once they put out the fire and locked up the shed, they strolled to her car.

‘Thank you for opening up to me, Jack. It means a lot. I know you didn’t shut me out deliberately back then, but the emotional isolation is what drove me to leave. I stayed in Kaniva a few nights, hoping you’d come after me, and when you didn’t, I drove away.’

A deep frown grooved his brow, and he opened his mouth to respond, but she pressed her finger against his lips. ‘In a way, leaving was the best thing I could’ve done for myself. I followed my passion for art, I finally felt validated through my paintings. My whole life I’d felt like I’d been taken for granted, first by my folks who viewed me as another possession, and then by you when I thought you loved the farm more than me. So making a life for myself in Tally Bay … it’s been good.’

‘Are you sure you want to give that up?’

‘Honestly? I’m not sure of anything, but I love you, and I want to give this marriage another try.’

‘Then that’s good enough for me.’

He drew her into his arms and kissed her, a slow, sensual kiss that made her cling to him. While the physical sparks they created were wonderful, it was their newfound emotional connection that turned her on more than anything.

‘There is one thing,’ Adelaide said, cupping his cheek. ‘I’d love to show you Tally Bay. That place healed me. It feels like home.’

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘For me, home is wherever you are. And seeing as I’m not tied to the farm anymore, what do you say we spend some of our year here, and some in Tally Bay? The best of both worlds?’

Joy unfurled in Adelaide’s heart at how much her man had changed, how far he was willing to go, for her. ‘I say yes, let’s do it.’

He kissed her again and she melted into him, scarcely believing they were lucky enough to have a second chance.

‘Now, what’s this surprise you’ve got for me at the studio?’

‘You’ll see.’ He made a zipping motion over his lips, and she tamped down her impatience.

Jack rested his hand on her thigh the entire drive home and she liked the feeling, like he never wanted to let her go. After she parked, they held hands as they walked into the studio and Jack headed straight for the locked door that had piqued her curiosity.

‘Finally,’ she said, as he unlocked it with a key from his chain. ‘I was beginning to get worried about what you might have stashed in there.’

‘Just this.’

He flung the door open and gestured her to come closer. When she did and saw what he’d kept in the tiny storage cupboard, her throat tightened with emotion.

‘Jack …’ she whispered, stepping forward to pick up the first frame, then the next, and the next, awed that he’d done this.

‘After you left and I found this stash of sketches, I thought they might be important to you, even though you’d never showed them to me. So I had them framed and stored in here, on the off-chance you’d come back and I could surprise you.’ With a sheepish grin, he flung his arms wide. ‘Surprise.’

‘I can’t believe you did this,’ she murmured, blown away by the proof he really had hoped she’d return one day. ‘I used to sketch at midnight sometimes, or in the mornings, as a way to centre myself before the start of yet another monotonous day. Turns out, I didn’t know what I had until I lost it, but by then it was too late. I’d stayed away too long, had completely broken things between us to the point of no return.’

She swallowed several times before continuing. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang these in the cottage, because even though they’re far from my best work, I want to look at evidence of where we started and how far we’ve come.’

‘I’d like that,’ he said, pocketing the key. ‘Now, isn’t there a fun way we can seal our new relationship?’

‘I’m all yours,’ she said, grabbing his hands and dragging him to the nearby sofa bed.

CHAPTER

53

No matter how many times Mila studied weed risk in paddocks or rode around the boundaries, the extent of her land never failed to astonish.

She owned all this. Every scrap of turned soil, every legume produced, every single tree. From the first time she’d visited Hills Homestead with her parents, she’d loved the place. Loved when Gramps drove her around on the back of a quad bike, loved the unique mustiness of ripening lentils in the air, loved the striking sunsets over harvested fields. She’d never understood her father’s disregard for the farm. He couldn’t wait to escape it and he rarely returned.

Like Sawyer, which is why she’d invited him here today.

She’d sent him a brief text, asking him to pop over around four, at the southernmost corner of the land he’d acquired. She had a plan. And even if it didn’t come to fruition, at least she could say she tried.

As his car approached, she slid from a log and dusted off her jeans, her palms clammy. She smoothed her hair, tucking stray strands into her ponytail, and tugged down her red ribbed singlet, which had ridden up. She never fussed over her appearance but she wanted to present a confident front so Sawyer took her seriously.

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