Page 4 of Higher Ground
“Not thinking of Mum? Wasn’t this her windmill?”
A short puff of air escaped Byron as he held back his surprise at the question. Tucker rarely asked about his mother. He’d been so young when Josie had passed. Byron turned to face the windmill, stretching his neck up to watch the blades spin ferociously against the wind.
“Yeah, she loved this thing. I’d hate for a flood to steal it from her.”
Tucker nodded but wrapped one arm around his middle. His free hand pushed his scruffy sun-bleached hair off his face.
The two men stood, watching the windmill, remembering Josie, for a while. Wildflowers rustled all through the paddock, swaying in the wind. Neither of them gave notice to the waythe flowers shook, to the warning in the air. A low grumble of thunder crept along the rolling hills, forcing them to finally look down from the rotating blades.
“Rain’s coming,” Byron said, breaking the silence that lingered between the men. “Might not stop once it does.”
“Does Emory have somewhere safe?” Tucker asked.
Byron gulped at the lump in his throat and willed his heart not to race away like it always did whenever Emory was concerned. Before he could summon an answer that wouldn’t give away his true feelings, Tucker stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The sound rang in Byron’s ears, but his cattle dog Miff raced over and slipped between Tucker’s legs. He ignored her for a moment, planting his hands on his hips to roll his eyes at Byron.
“I’ll call her,” Byron said when he couldn’t think of anything better. “Let her know she can stay at the farmhouse. I’ve got plenty of room.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
No, but he wasn’t about to let Tucker know that.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Tucker sighed, stepping forward.
“Right,” he said, drawing out the word.
Byron shoved his son’s shoulders. “Right,” he repeated, but Tucker stood firm. With a groan that matched the echoing rumble of thunder, Byron tipped his head to the grey sky. “Emory is an attractive woman, and she is also kind and intelligent and a wonderful mother to Clayton. But I’m no bloody fool. She deserves more than this old bloke can offer her.” He wasn’toldold, but he was older than her by a little more than twenty years.
“She’s Jaxon’s ex. And you’re her son’s grandfather.”
“Exactly.”
“But you like her?”
It was Byron’s turn to sigh. Because he did, and it was so wrong on so many levels. Even if she wasn’t his son’s ex, she was young and just finding her feet after motherhood arrived on her doorstep unannounced. There was no way Emory would even look at him twice, so he wasn’t about to go kidding himself by getting his hopes up.
“I don’t need to have this conversation with you.” He didn’t need to have it with anyone, really. He knew he needed to hold back his blasted feelings; he didn’t need his son reminding him so.
The problem was, he had tried holding them back. He’d been trying for the past 4 years, ever since he’d first laid eyes on her. But they still lingered under the surface of his skin like an itch he couldn’t reach. By this stage, he figured that they always would. He’d never act on them, though.
“So, you think her and Clayton coming to stay is a good idea?” Tucker climbed onto one of the quad bikes, clicking the engine on. Miff yapped beside him, her patience wearing thin as she waited for her treat. Her tail thumped against the dry ground as a loud crack of thunder echoed through the air. Byron shivered at the sound. He knew all too well what this much rain could bring. Change. And too much of it.
Byron rummaged through the pockets of his oversized tan jacket to find a jerky treat for the dog. Finding none, he lifted his shoulders. “Sorry,” he said, as though she might understand.
She yapped again, but he ignored her, moving to climb back onto his own dusty quad bike. Miff gave up, jumping onto the tray behind Byron.
“Nope,” he called out over the sound of both engines revving, “but it just might be her only choice.”
He kicked the bike into gear and sped off up the hill, wanting to get back to the house quickly now, before the rain landed. Even with the house’s prime position on the hill, Byron had alist of things to get done in case the roads were closed earlier than they needed to be. Thereshouldbe enough food to last him through a flood, but if he could convince Emory to stay, he’d need almost double what he normally would have planned. Little Clayton ate almost as much food as Byron did during a growth spurt.
It’d be nice, having Clayton around more. Byron would give the whole situation that, at least. He would shove aside his personal discomfort for the sake of his grandson. That little tike lit up Byron’s days like nothing else. Made him feel a little less old and a little more lively.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days to help get the cows up,” Tucker said after they had parked the quad bikes in the back shed and made their way around the house.
“You might not be able to get back across the bridge in a few days, it’ll be the first to close.”
“I’ve got the boat.”
