“She needs glasses, Blake. It’s nothing too serious, so don’t be alarmed. She has a stigmatism and they might be able to do something with it when she is older—laser or something. I have a brochure here. Anyway, her new pink glasses should be ready in about a week or so. Royce is okay, though. His eyes are fine.” The keys clenched in her hand, she turned to go back up to the house.
“Del.”
She stopped and turned back to him.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.”
“I know. It’s okay.” She watched his shoulders relax and the lines of worry ease from his face, and breathed a sigh of relief it hadn’t gone terribly wrong. Stepping up to him, she cupped his chin in her hand. “Silly man, worrying so much. It isn’t all doom and gloom, you know. Every now and then things can go just the way we want them too.”
He grabbed her and lifted her up so her feet were off the ground and their faces were touching. “I can’t thank you enough for this, really I can’t.”
His lips touched hers and the need emanating from him scorched her skin. Yes, she wanted this man, but how could she tell him they would have to take a step back until things had been resolved with her work?
“I can hear your mind working again.” He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the ground, but Blake kept his arms around her. “Don’t think us out of the equation, Del. There has to be a way to make this work.”
“Yeah, there does. I just have to find it.” Kissing him quickly, she unwound his arms and stepped back. “I think I should go and get lunch before you all drop from exhaustion or starvation.”
She walked up the driveway, knowing his gaze was on her. At the gate, Del turned and found Blake watching her. Sadness flowed over her as she turned and headed up the path to the house. If only life was as simple as Sue claimed it was, but Del knew better. There were too many secrets and obstacles to clear before they had a decent shot at a long happy life together. Obstacles Del had to clear away before she could admit that this was where she wanted to stay.
The following days passed in a blur. The shearers arrived and for four days straight, the farm was a hive of activity. The constant yapping of the dogs and the dust down in the yards was a sharp contrast to the relaxed two weeks she’d had to get used to farm operations.
Del cooked more meals than she thought possible. Basic but filling meals the men appreciated and cleaned up. They bunked down in the sheds with Bluey and ate at the house every day, filling the kitchen with noise and laughter. Between cooking, cleaning, and keeping her eyes on the children, Delilah didn’t have time to worry about her contract or Paul Steenburg. Each night, they all fell into bed exhausted from the big days. More than once, Lilly fell asleep before Del could get her into the bathtub. A damp cloth and a change of clothes as the small girl lay sleeping on the couch were all that could be managed.
Del had offered to give them a hand. She stood beside the race as Blake and the dogs pushed the last of the mob into the race. All she had to do was to separate them into the right yards ready for the last shear. It would save the men precious time when it came to sending them back out to the paddocks when they let the animals loose later.
Blake tried to teach her how to operate the gates. He stood behind her, his hand over hers as he guided her, opening and closing them as the animals were pushed down the race toward her. “Look at the sheep and see if you can see the difference. The older ones are going into the right race and the smaller ones, that’s it.” He slammed the gate the other way letting two smaller ewes through, closing it before a ram came barreling down the race. “Into the other paddock. Notice the difference? If you get it wrong, don’t freak out. No big deal, but if you can get it half way right it will be a big help.” He stood with his hand on her shoulder as she tried to judge the animals coming her way with the dogs yelping and nipping at their heels, pushing them through.
Her heart pounded and the noise of the dogs drowned out Blake’s voice as he encouraged her. She slammed the gate forward then back, shuddering as a large ram tried to follow an ewe and collided with the gate, wrenching her shoulder. “Bloody mongrel.” She swore and gripped the gate tighter, more determined not to let them get the better of her.
When the dogs pushed the last of them her way, Del was relieved. It was exhilarating but hard work. She turned to Blake but he was in the shed. He’d snuck off when she was deep into the job and was now bending over a wriggling sheep, working hard along with the other shearers to free them from the thick wool on their backs.
Bluey was a qualified wool classer collecting the fleeces and throwing them onto the skirting table. She walked up and watched the man at work. His deft, arthritic fingers scuttled around the edges of the wool, picking off the dirtiest edges and throwing them into a large sack-lined bin—tailings, he had told her when he tried to give her a crash course. Still worth money, but not as much as the clean fleeces were. When he had
