Erin stepped out onto the front verandah and breathed in the crisp morning air. I’ve missed this smell, she thought as she closed her eyes and allowed memories, triggered by the fresh, cool scent, filter through her mind. She remembered Gran coming inside on a foggy morning with a pail of fresh milk from her old house cow, Katie. When Katie had passed away, Gran had finally decided to give up milking by hand. Erin smiled faintly as she remembered Gran complaining about store-bought milk: ‘It has no taste . . . and where’s the cream? Not as good as my Katie’s milk,’ she’d tsk as she made her tea.
Erin stretched and jogged on the spot for a few moments to warm up before setting off. Jogging was an integral part of her daily routine. It helped her deal with stress. She jogged a lot. At Tallowood it helped her get her emotions under control and give her time to think about things—her gran, her mum and, as much as she hated it, her divorce. She was struggling to come to terms with that, although now the initial shock had worn off she was starting to feel angry. She wasn’t sure which stage of grief this was, but it was better than the previous ones of denial and depression. At least anger felt good, and her feet hitting the ground helped pump the fury through her bloodstream.
And she was angry. She resented that some other woman had set her sights on her husband and lured him away so easily. After everything they’d been through. She was even angrier at Phillip for giving up on them . . . on her. Maybe she’d given up too easily as well. The memory of the night he’d left was still burnt into her brain.
After their last failed attempt, she’d told Phillip she couldn’t do any more IVF, purely out of self-preservation. But the night he left, she’d been frantic. ‘I’ll try again. I’ll do IVF as many times as you want.’ She’d heard the desperation in her voice, but she hadn’t cared, her whole world was crashing down around her. If risking all that grief again would keep him by her side, she’d do it.
‘It’s no use, Erin. You know what the doctor said last time. I can’t ask you to put yourself, or me for that matter, through another round of IVF. I’ve suffered too, you know,’ he said. ‘With each loss, I had to swallow back my own disappointment and put on a brave face for you. I can’t do that any more, Erin. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I’m done.’
She hated that she’d shown him just how vulnerable she was. It hadn’t changed anything, he’d still walked away.
She cursed as she came to a gate. It was annoying having to open and close the damn things, it messed up her rhythm. She fumbled with the keyhole-shaped latch on a chain, jiggling and twisting it to fit over the knob on the post. Why they had to make these things so damn difficult to manoeuvre was beyond her. It wasn’t as if the cattle had hands to undo them. She looked around and frowned when she realised there weren’t even any cattle in the paddock, then dropped the chain and let the gate swing open. Given her trouble getting it open, it wasn’t worth the hassle fastening it again when she’d be back within a few minutes. She picked up her pace as she followed the narrow track generations of cattle had worn in a direct line through the property towards the creek.
She came across two more gates further on and saw the only cattle in the vicinity were all the way on the other side of the paddock, too busy chewing on grass to notice her. As she reached the bottom paddock, she bent over, bracing her hands on her thighs, and concentrated on catching her breath.
The gentle bubble and gurgle of water running nearby drew her attention and she veered off the track to the edge of the bank overlooking a portion of the creek. It was so beautiful here, she thought again. It had been too long since she’d taken time out to really look at the place. As a kid she’d lived down here by the creek—knew every inch of it. As an adult, her visits were only a weekend here and there to see Gran, and rarely had she even left the house.
It was a lot more overgrown than she recalled, but if she closed her eyes and listened, it was exactly as she remembered. When they were younger, Erin and the McBride children would entertain themselves down here for hours. She could almost hear the shouts of happy children splashing in the water on a hot summer afternoon. Erin squeezed her eyes tighter and for a brief moment wished that when she opened them she could be back in her childhood once more. She missed Gran, her gentle presence, her greatest supporter in everything she ever did. Telling her stories and always able to give the right advice when it was needed. The woman who was always busy doing something: pottering around the kitchen, cooking, or out in the garden weeding; humming under her breath as she fed the chooks, and seemingly content with her quiet life on the farm. Seeing her fading away to nothing was pure agony. She missed the simple things she’d taken for granted: to sit and have a chat over a cup of tea, to be able to have a conversation without her drifting away behind those blank eyes. She wanted to ask her so many questions. Who was this Jimmy she kept talking about? Why had she never talked about him in any of the stories she told?
Erin had no idea if he was real or just a figment of her grandmother’s dementia. Yet the passion in her voice when she spoke suggested to Erin he wasn’t someone Gran had made up.
The nurses had warned her that things probably wouldn’t get any better. She had to face the fact that she had almost lost what little remained of her gran. A breeze high up in the treetops reminded Erin of a gentle lullaby and she couldn’t help but smile as a sensation of utter peace and tranquillity settled on her.
Slowly she opened her eyes and let out a soft sigh. With one last look at the creek below, she turned and headed back the way she’d come.
The sound of a vehicle approaching drew her gaze and she scanned the paddock that stretched out before her until she located the vehicle.
Jamie. She waited for the now familiar spike in her heart rate, and was glad she had a few moments to compose herself before he arrived.
‘Hi,’ she said as he rolled to a stop beside her.
‘Morning. Did you forget something?’
Erin frowned as she tried to work out if she had. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.
‘The gate?’
She eyed him blankly until he gave an impatient sigh and said, ‘You left the gate open back there.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Well, I was coming back,’ she said a tad defensively.
‘I spent a long time drafting that mob the other day, I don’t have time to waste doing it all over again just because they got out through an open gate.’
‘I didn’t think I’d be gone long enough for them to notice.’
‘Luckily they didn’t. This time,’ he said.
‘Okay, point taken. I won’t leave any more gates open.’ Grumpy, much? she thought, irritated that he was chiding her like some naughty kid.
‘This is my livelihood,’ he added gruffly.
‘Okay. I get it. I’m sorry.’ Jeez, she’d said sorry; what more did he want?
‘I’m not sure you do.’
‘What’s your problem today?’ she demanded, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him through his open window.
‘I didn’t have a problem until I came to check on the cattle and found all the gates open.’
‘Oh, for the love of God. I won’t open another bloody gate. I’ll climb the damn things from now on. Happy?’
‘No, I’m not happy. I’m bloody frustrated, okay?’ he said, rubbing hands roughly across his face and confusing her even more.
‘I said I was sorry!’ she snapped.
‘It’s not about the bloody gates!’
They eyed each other with matching scowls before Jamie cursed and threw his car in gear. ‘Just forget it. I’ve gotta go,’ he snapped, before revving the engine and pulling away, leaving her staring after him and shaking her head.
‘He’s doing my head in,’ she muttered, turning to go home. She had a busy morning lined up and, thanks to Jamie, all the stress she’d been running off was back.
Fantastic.