The Cattleman's Bride. Joan Kilby
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black turtleneck sweater, her oval face expressing her resignation. “Let it go, darl’, it’s in the past. Anyway, he didn’t swindle me out of it. I sold it to him.”
Sarah tilted her head impatiently. “For a song.”
“It allowed me to buy this shop, which was all I wanted back then—a place where I could work and care for you at the same time.”
“But he left you with nothing.”
“He left me you.”
“Oh, Mom,” Sarah said, her voice softening, and she stepped behind the counter to hug her mother. “I will never understand how anyone could walk out on you.”
Anne’s gaze shifted uncomfortably. “Since I wouldn’t have met and married Dennis otherwise, I consider myself lucky your father and I split up. As for Burrinbilli, I always regretted letting it go, but…I’ve made my peace with the loss.”
Sarah smiled, hugging her secret to herself a few minutes longer. “But you’d go back if you could, right?”
Anne got down from her stool and walked to the window to gaze out at the rain streaming down on the gray city streets. “I still dream about Burrinbilli,” she said in her faintly accented voice. “The sun, the heat, the wonderful open country of the Downs—” her voice caught “—the homestead my great-grandfather built after he came out from England.” She sighed and pulled her shawl tighter. “What’s that saying—’You can’t go home again’?”
Sarah laughed, unable to contain herself any longer. “But you can! Warren did one decent thing before he died. He left Burrinbilli to me.”
Anne turned, surprise and delight widening her dark brown eyes. “You mean he still had it? I never would have thought he’d keep it all these years. That’s wonderful!”
“Don’t get too excited,” Sarah cautioned. “I don’t own it completely. Apparently Warren ran into financial difficulties a few years ago and sold half to the station manager.”
“Oh, dear.” Anne came back to the counter. “And now it’s too late to buy him out.”
“He wants it, too. I’m going down to Australia to convince him to sell me his half. And when the place is entirely fixed up you can retire and move back there.”
“I beg your pardon?” Anne’s voice sounded strangled.
“You can move to Burrinbilli,” Sarah repeated. Her voice softened and she took her mother’s hand. “Dennis has passed on. You can go home. You’ve always said how much you missed Australia.”
“Yes, well…” Anne pulled her hand away to run her slender fingers over a string of colored beads from Nepal. “Are you actually traveling all the way to Burrinbilli?”
“You make it sound like the end of the earth. Not that that would worry you.” Every year Anne practically begged her, in vain, to come along on her yearly buying trips to Third World countries.
Sarah moved the bead display to one side and hoisted her briefcase onto the counter. “Wait till you see what I’ve got for us.”
“Not another electronic gadget, I hope. I still haven’t figured out the clock radio-cum-coffeemaker you gave me last Christmas.”
“Oh, Mom.” Sarah handed her an instruction booklet. “How are you doing with the laptop?”
“Don’t ask.”
“It would make your business so much more efficient if you’d only let it.”
“I’m a Luddite, I’ll admit. But I don’t have room in my brain for programming instructions for a dozen different machines.” Anne flipped through the pages of the booklet. “What’s this, now?”
Sarah pulled two identical cellular phones from her briefcase. “Aren’t they great? They also do fax and e-mail. We’ll be able to communicate at all times.”
Anne took one and gingerly turned it over in her hands. “When someone invents a device that facilitates genuine communication between people it’ll be worth a fortune.”
“Mom. Don’t go all airy-fairy on me. Now watch. You press this button to make a phone call. That one to send a fax, and that and that for e-mail. Don’t worry about the Internet connection. I’ve hooked you up to my server.”
“I’ll never use it.”
“Try it,” she urged. “You’ll be surprised.”
Anne put the cell phone down and held up her desk phone. “You can call me on this. And you’ve already got a cell phone. Why do you need another?”
“I thought it would be fun. This is an updated model that’s compatible with Australia and Japan. The new digital system spans the Pacific. Cool, huh?”
“Amazing.”
Sarah ignored her mother’s dry tone and packed her phone back in her briefcase. “Why don’t you come with me to Queensland? It would be so much more fun going together.”
The bell over the door tinkled. Two teenage girls entered, smiled a greeting to Anne and disappeared behind a rack of cotton dresses from Ghana.
“I can’t leave the shop just now, darl’.” Anne gestured around her at the displays of colorful bric-a-brac.
To Sarah the store looked just as it always did—cluttered and colorful and a little too retro for her taste, but not desperate for attention. “Your friend Mandy would take care of the place for you.”
“She left last night for two weeks in Mexico.” Anne, her face suddenly troubled, reached out to stroke the hair away from Sarah’s cheek. “You’re the sweetest girl in the world, but are you sure you want to do this?”
Sarah gave her a tight smile. “Not entirely. I’d really miss you if you moved back there.”
“Then why don’t you sell your half of the station and buy the apartment you have your heart set on?”
Sarah dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “What would I want with an apartment? I’m too young to settle down.”
“What about what’s-his-name, Quincy—?”
“Quentin.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He gets a rash every time the word marriage is mentioned and rushes off to phone his analyst.”
“I thought he was an analyst.”
“He is, but apparently Physician Heal Thyself doesn’t apply to shrinks. Anyway, I’ve decided I can’t marry him. I want a real man.”
Anne laughed. “And what is that, darl’?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it’s not Quentin.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m on my way to the travel agent. Are you sure you don’t want to come? I could book us two seats. You’ve never been back except for Pop’s funeral, then Nana’s, and that was years ago. We could have so much fun together.”
Anne’s eyes clouded. “There are too many ghosts, darl’, living and dead.”
Sarah studied her mother’s face, totally not understanding her reluctance and certain it was time those ghosts were laid to rest. “Mom, all my life you’ve sacrificed for me. At last I have a chance to do something really special for you.”
“I appreciate the thought more than I can say. You have a good time in Oz. You can tell me all about it when you get back. If nothing else you’ll have a break from work. It’s been what—two years since you’ve had a holiday?”
“Something like that. I’m looking forward to this trip. You know, discovering my roots and all.”
A tiny smile curled Anne’s mouth. “Maybe you’ll decide to stay.”
Sarah laughed. “Not a chance.”