‘Will he?’
‘Of course he will,’ Margaret said stoutly.
But for how long? Maggie thought, but she didn’t say it.
Max seemed to have faith in their future. Maybe she should, too.
He stayed away for almost a week and that was long enough. Then he made a mercy dash back, to give Angus his headlights, and bonnet badges he’d found for his 1949 Newman WD2. That was a good moment. Angus almost smiled. Maggie did.
Then he found someone to take over part of his role in Sydney so he could work reasonable hours. His car soon seemed to know the route back to the farm all by itself, and the more he visited, the more sure he was of what he felt. His thoughts were finding a centre, a purpose, but three months might not be long enough to finalise his plan.
Would she agree? Once the emotion of the birth had faded would she still feel the same? He daren’t ask, not yet, but he rang, twice a day, sometimes more, and the pleasure in her voice said she might, she must.
‘Your grin’s getting fixed,’ Anton told him. ‘It’s stretching your face.’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Don’t do it,’ Anton said morosely. ‘Three kids and it’s the end of life as you know it.’
‘Would you want your old life?’
‘Hell, I can’t remember my old life,’ Anton said. ‘It’s in the bottom of my wardrobe with my blue suede shoes. Figuratively speaking, that is. I’m not quite that old. I just feel it.’
‘But for all the whinging…’
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t give it back.’ Anton said, smiling at his friend. ‘And if you take that final step, neither will you.’
She loved him, she loved him, she loved him. She wanted him here. That he wasn’t next to her, seeing Rose’s first smile, waking in the night next to her, loving her, felt wrong.
The promise she’d made to Betty seemed more and more impossible. To stay here for ever when the man she loved was in Sydney…How could she?
But Max wasn’t asking her to go to Sydney. His phone calls and visits were all about now, all about what Rose was doing, how the farm was going, what was happening with the ancient Sift TD4 diesel Max had found and had shipped to the farm.
‘So who’s the tractor fanatic?’ Maggie teased.
‘Just taking a polite interest,’ he said innocently. And she laughed to think of him, her swish Sydney surgeon, now with a secret passion for tractors…Max. Her man.
He wouldn’t keep coming unless he wanted her. And she knew that she’d go with him. Despite her promise.
But the promise still lay heavy on her heart. The problem was that she’d become part of this community. Betty was gone but her ghost lingered through the house, a gentle, approving presence Maggie felt as a blessing all around her.
Betty had manoeuvred this into a happy ending, for the farm, for the community and for Angus, and in a sense Maggie had her happy ending as well. She had her precious daughter who was already gurgling her delight at her world. She was surrounded by people who loved her.
She and Rose had their own part of the house. The apartment Betty had built was large, sun-filled and lovely, but Sophie and Paula were constantly in and out, fascinated by Rose, bringing the house to life with their chatter and laughter. And John and Margaret were wonderful. They were looking to buy their own home but there was no rush. No rush at all.
This situation could extend indefinitely, Maggie thought. If not for Max.
Three months. He was gently patient, but she knew now that patience disguised steady purpose. He loved her, he wanted her and he was making her fall more and more deeply in love with him at every visit.
A couple of months after Rose’s birth Maggie started doing two clinics a week-morning sessions, with no house calls. It took some of the load from John, and it felt good. She was back to serving the little community of Yandilagong that had been such an important part of William’s past. The reason she was here.
The farm-the second reason she was here-was great as well. The tractors were like benign spirits, with Angus as their leader. His calves were half-grown now, and friendly. Maggie watched Angus and the calves, and Sophie and Paula with Bonnie, and she started to think maybe a pup of her own would be fun.
But if she was to move to Sydney…Max had a hospital apartment. A pup? No.
How could it matter? How could she put a pup above Max?
He loved her. There was no doubt about that, and every time she saw him she knew deeper in her heart that this was the man she wanted to share her life with.
So what was the problem?
She could sell the farm to John and Margaret. She knew that. They’d take care of Angus and she could visit constantly.
She’d done the best she could for Betty, for Angus, for the farm, for William’s beloved community. It was only…only…
No. She loved Max and every time he phoned, every time he visited, she knew that her love was returned and more.
She was his woman. His gaze lingered on her, his kisses told her he wanted her, that he was waiting only from some misguided sense of chivalry. The wait didn’t mean he didn’t want her-the warmth of his voice on the end of the phone confirmed it. He’d said three months and he was sticking to it, but after that…She belonged to him as he belonged to her.
So she knew how this must end. At the end of three months she knew he’d come to claim his own.
And she knew what her answer must be.
And three months to the day he came. He’d rung the night before. ‘Tomorrow,’ he’d said, in a tone she couldn’t mistake. He’d hardly said anything about three months for…well, for three months, but here it was and of course he’d remembered.
‘I’ll be there at lunchtime,’ he said. ‘Wear something pretty.’
So here she was, at lunchtime, wandering the house feeling like…
Like she’d made her decision and it was the right one, even if it did involve a sense of loss.
Rose was asleep in her little pink crib in her bedroom overlooking paddocks that swept down to the sea. Maybe they could find a house by the sea in Sydney. Maybe her longing to be a country girl had been irrational.
She’d be with Max.
If he still wanted her.
He wanted her. For months the sizzle had been building. It was in his voice, in his laughter, even in his silence. She couldn’t mistake his desire, for she felt exactly the same about him. He made her toes curl.
Speaking of toes…she looked down at her feet. She was wearing sky-blue, open-toed sandals and she’d painted her toenails crimson. She was wearing a blue and white gingham dress with a bow at the back and Sophie had tied her hair up in a blue ribbon.
He’d ordered pretty. She felt a bit like Sandy from
He was late.
‘What time are we expecting him?’ Margaret called from the kitchen. ‘My roast’ll spoil.’ She wandered out to join Maggie on the veranda and then turned toward the road. ‘Is this him now?’
Maggie gazed out, sizzle building like petrol on wildfire-and then her sizzle faded. This wasn’t Max. It was an SUV, bright crimson, with two surfboards on the roof rack.
‘Wrong place?’ Margaret said.
‘So what’s behind it?’ John asked, joining them. The SUV was slowing and turning into the driveway, and a truck was following. A huge truck, big enough to hold the contents of a small house.
‘Maybe Angus has ordered another tractor,’ John said, looking out to where Angus and Bonnie were sitting on the Sift TD4 diesel that Max had found. The Sift had been built in 1950 in France. Maggie knew that now. She was starting to feel almost as affectionate toward the tractors as Angus.
She’d be able to come home to visit.
