The Grass is Greener (28 page)

‘Everybody is on standby,' Bronwyn assured him, ‘so make sure you get to bed early tonight.'

It was a pretty cheeky order from her, given she was sleeping in his bed; in his nice mind-clearing room, sparsely furnished and comfortably neat. By contrast, he had to sleep beneath a floral pink doona he'd picked up off the floor, next to a mountain of clothes and a desk overflowing with books, half of which he was sure Claudia had never read. After all, who
would want to sit through such titles as
Custody Battles Gone Wrong
, and
Issues Facing Tax Law: Cases and Commentary
, just for fun? Certainly not him. Just looking at her leisure pile was enough to give him a headache.

He shovelled the last of his food into his mouth. ‘What about the actual harvest? Won't I be needed –'

‘No, you won't,' Bronwyn said quickly. ‘Your dad is going to supervise that. He's out talking to the guys now.'

He ground his teeth as she started collecting their plates. The harvesting tractor was actually very efficient and he was confident that his father would not have to do much. The machine enabled only two men to harvest a complete block of vineyard in just a few hours. The tractor was built high so that it straddled the wine trestle. It basically shook the vine as it drove over it so that the fruit fell on a conveyor belt that could sort grapes from leaves and twigs, before dropping them into the tractor's storage unit. It wasn't that he felt the need to be present. It was more that he had been told in no uncertain terms not to be.

He barely slept that night. The floodlights in the field made sure Claudia's bedroom never completely settled into darkness. Combined with the noise of the harvester, most people unused to the situation would not have blamed him. However, if he was honest, it was neither of these things that kept him up. Generally, he was one of those sleepers who, if he was tired enough, could sleep through anything. In this instance, unfortunately, his brain just would not switch off. Bronwyn had definitely disrupted the balance of power and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Eventually, he gave up on trying to sleep and decided to go for a walk. He flung off Claudia's pink doona with satisfaction and pulled on a pair of jeans hanging over the back of her desk chair. A T-shirt over the head and he was ready to leave the room.

The house was dark and he didn't turn on any lights as he
crept down the stairs. They creaked the whole way, just as he remembered. He smiled wryly to himself. Good thing the harvester was in action or he might have woken the others.

He swung open the door to the front of the house and walked out onto the porch. Stretching his arms to open up his lungs, he breathed in deep the flavours of crop. It was a warm and balmy February night, perfect for a harvest and a good walk. The harvest lights glowed brightly in the distance, making the sky seem black by comparison. On any other night he wouldn't have been able to count the stars.

‘All right,' a resigned tone came out of the darkness, ‘I give up. Why are you really here?'

Jack turned around quickly, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw his brother sitting in the shadows of the house. The first thing to catch his eye was the glint of moonlight against silver wheels as Chris rolled out so that he could see him better.

A pang tore at his heart when he laid eyes on him, and also a sense of pride. His brother held his head high, his back straight, his powerful biceps on display because of the T-shirt he was wearing. There was nothing weak about Chris. He had conquered his disability.

‘It's good to see you,' he said to his brother.

‘I wish I could say the same.' Chris's face was hard like stone, his mouth a flat line.

‘I was hoping that time might have mellowed your anger towards me.'

‘Without an apology,' Chris snapped, ‘there can be no forgiveness.'

Jack frowned. He'd told Chris about the kangaroo but his brother, it seemed, still clung to his own truth. ‘What do you want me to say, Chris? I'm sorry I fell in love with her. I'm sorry that I wanted her as much as you did.'

Chris's face contorted as he turned away. ‘If it were only that –'

‘It
was
only that!' Jack threw at him. ‘Oh, I admit in the beginning it was a competition. A fight to the last man standing and I was all in, but I didn't cross the line that you think I did.'

‘I only have your word.'

‘Yeah, you do,' Jack responded bitterly. ‘And you've chosen not to believe it. God only knows why. I'm your brother, damn it! Why would I ever set out to deliberately hurt you?'

Chris's jaw set. ‘The thing is, Jack, you never set out to deliberately hurt me but you always did.'

‘With Bronwyn?'

‘No, with
everything
!' Chris's voice rose a notch and he had to take a breath or two to calm himself down. ‘You were the favourite son.'

‘What?'

Chris gritted his teeth. ‘Don't play dumb, Jack. You know what I'm talking about.'

‘No, I don't.'

‘You were the one who inherited all Dad's talent. His knack with wine. His passion for making it. You were good-looking, sought after by the ladies, admired by your peers. Dad gave you every opportunity he could and you took it like it was your due,' Chris remarked bitterly. ‘Did you ever pause to think about what I was doing during all that?'

Jack looked at him stunned, so guilt-ridden that he actually had nothing to say. He'd been far too self-absorbed back then to think about Chris's endgame. He knew his brother hadn't been into the actual winemaking process. He was more business oriented and had done a degree in marketing and management at university. Jack had naturally assumed Chris was planning to use those skills in the winery.

‘You've always been interested in doing the marketing for Oak Hills,' he began uncertainly. ‘Haven't you?'

‘No,' Chris retorted. ‘I've always been interested in getting the hell out of here. Out from under your shadow and making my own way. While you were establishing yourself as the heir apparent, I was planning my exit strategy.'

‘Where were you going to go?'

‘I don't know,' Chris shrugged. ‘The sky was the limit … back then. After you left, everything fell apart. I got stuck.'

Jack pushed his hands roughly into the pockets of his jeans. ‘That's not true. Look at you, Chris. You didn't let your disability beat you. I have nothing but admiration for the way you've handled it.'

‘It's not just that.' Chris's mouth twisted. ‘Dad needed us. Me and Claud. When you ran off to France he was devastated.'

‘Hardly,' Jack scoffed.

‘You weren't here,' Chris threw at him bitterly. ‘If I thought being the second son with no gift for wine was bad, the disabled one he'd passed you over for was even worse.'

It was Jack's turn to get angry. He stabbed a finger at his brother. ‘That's utter bullshit.'

‘I'll tell you what's bullshit.' Chris rolled forward. ‘Your fucked-up attitude. You keep saying you're my brother. That you'd never do anything to deliberately hurt me, and look what you did, Jack. You put me in hospital, and even if that wasn't your fault
as you claim
, afterwards you just left. Do you have any idea what I was going through? Any idea at all? I needed you back then, Jack. You were my best friend and where were you? Living it up in France, that's where!'

Jack rolled on the balls of his feet in fury. ‘Living it up? Ha! Hardly. I was there because you sent me there. You and Dad!'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' Chris protested.

‘How can you get angry at my lack of consideration when you never wanted it?' Jack threw up his hands. ‘Do you have any idea how hurt I was when you both conspired to kick me out of the frickin' country?'

‘What?' Chris paled.

‘You keep going on about how Dad loves me more,' Jack spat. ‘What a joke! After how he treated me.'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

‘How many times did I come to visit you at the hospital before I left? How many times did you turn me away?'

‘I don't remember,' Chris shrugged. ‘You may recall I was going through a lot at the time. Can you blame me if I didn't have time to think about your sensitive feelings?'

‘All right then,' Jack threw at him, ‘what about when I did manage to break through security? You told me that you never wanted to see me again.'

Chris lifted his chin. ‘And I didn't, not then.'

‘Right.' Jack nodded in satisfaction. ‘Which is why it came as no surprise to me when Dad sent me a note explaining how you all wanted me to go. It also included a job offer in Bordeaux and a plane ticket to get me there just in case I was too busy begging to stay to organise one myself.'

‘You're mistaken,' Chris responded weakly. ‘Dad would never go that far.'

‘Well, he did. So don't go on to me about how I abandoned you, when you told me to drop off the face of the earth and then had Dad send me a ticket to do so.'

‘Jack –'

‘Look, I'm sorry about your legs, and I'm sorry that I wasn't here when you were trying to get used to that blasted chair, but that wasn't from a lack of wanting to be. France was fuckin' lonely until I got myself a sense of purpose.'

Chris's jaw seemed to set. ‘And what purpose was that, Jack? Wait till we're down and out and swoop in to gloat?'

‘No.' Jack glared back. ‘I just want to be part of what you and Claudia are starting to take for granted. This family, this vineyard and this lifestyle. Oak Hills is in my blood and this time you guys can't turn me away because, like it or not, you need me.'

Chris gave a mocking laugh. ‘We've always needed you, Jack. It was just never in your best interest to notice before.'

On these words, he wheeled himself back into the house.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the conversation. It had just sort of happened when she slipped downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. With the harvester at full steam outside and the small victory she'd won over Jack that evening still buzzing in her brain, she'd found it impossible to sleep. She was filling the kettle with water when she'd heard the faint sound of voices coming from outside. Plugging the kettle in, she'd left the kitchen to see who it was by walking into the living room.

Shrouded by darkness, she could see easily out of the large bay windows to where Jack and Chris were talking on the porch. To be honest, she was relieved at first to see them together. It was about time they settled their differences. They couldn't go on with this silent treatment. It wasn't good for either of them when it was clear, even to a toddler, how much they loved each other.

The windows were open and the light curtain was billowing gently with the faint sea breeze. Their voices wafted in clearly.

‘What about when I did manage to break through security? You told me that you never wanted to see me again.' Bronwyn sucked in a breath, startled to hear such anger and hurt in Jack's voice.

She glanced at Chris, whose face was grimly set in the faint lighting from the field. ‘And I didn't, not then,' he croaked.

‘Right,' Jack said. ‘Which is why it came as no surprise to me when Dad sent me a note explaining how you all wanted me to go. It also included a job offer in Bordeaux and a plane ticket to get me there just in case I was too busy begging to stay to organise one myself.'

Bronwyn's hand flew to her throat as Chris put a voice to her thoughts.

‘You're mistaken. Dad would never go that far.'

‘Well, he did. So don't go on to me about how I abandoned you, when you told me to drop off the face of the earth and then had Dad send me a ticket to do so.'

Oh crap!

Bronwyn hastily returned to the kitchen. She turned off the kettle and made her way straight back up the stairs. That conversation had just turned her world on its head.

Did she hear it right?

Jack thought his dad had given him the opportunity in Bordeaux.

She shut the door to her bedroom and began to pace the floor. He said something about a note. A note with a plane ticket and a job offer. It was from her mother, no doubt, but she mustn't have signed it if Jack didn't realise it was from her. And if that were true, then her mother had lied to her about seeing Jack face to face …

She sank slowly onto the bed, her fingers trembling in horror. She had been manipulated into doing her mother's bidding yet again.

Bianca Hanks had not spoken to Jack five years ago.

He didn't know anything about Bronwyn's feelings for him. He didn't even know that that job offer in Bordeaux was anything do with her or her family.

He thought …

She threw herself back on the doona, a hand to her forehead.

He thought his own family had wanted him gone. No wonder there was such a rift between them all.

Shit, Bronwyn! This is all your fault.

She closed her eyes in disgust at the unfathomable damage her mother had caused. Damage she probably didn't even know the half of. All she had wanted to do was make her daughter stay in law. She bit her fingernails as her thoughts flew in all directions.

All this time, all this awkwardness.

You've been so embarrassed over nothing.

He didn't reject you. He didn't even know you had feelings for him.

Still doesn't.

Her significance to him in this whole debacle was actually non-existent. It was all in her head and the cost of that mistake was huge.

Her mother had destroyed his relationship with his family. She sat up abruptly.

You are going to have to tell him what really happened.

Even as the thought formed in her head, another flew in the back door.

Wait!

What was she going to tell Jack when he wanted to know why he had been singled out? Why her mother had thought that if he was gone she wouldn't come back to Oak Hills?

She chewed her lower lip. Number One Humiliation Street. Her infatuation with him was going to come out after all. Her embarrassing unrequited love that he wasn't even aware existed. She massaged her temple.

The situation only got worse the more she unravelled it.

Then, of course, there was the plan she'd set in motion the afternoon before, which made everything that much worse. Jack would not be pleased with the development, and had she known how much her family had taken from him already she might have thought twice about it. But now it was too
late, her offer was out there. And if she was really honest with herself, did she want to take it back?

Yesterday, when Jack had gone off to settle into Claudia's messy bedroom, she had tracked down Horace. The old man had been talking to the harvest tractor driver in the yard – discussing the pros and cons of machine harvesting and whether it really produced the same standards as hand-picking. She was sure Horace was gathering support for a debate he was going to have later with John Maxwell, whose organically grown vineyard had never seen a mechanical clipper in its life.

‘Horace, can I talk to you for a minute?' she had asked.

After the driver wandered off and she had his full attention, she'd cut to the chase. ‘I want to buy into Oak Hills.'

‘Huh?'

‘You need money and I've got money,' Bronwyn tried to explain. ‘Not immediately available but certainly in time if you agree. I've got assets and investments that can easily be liquidated. I'm happy to sell my apartment in Subiaco, which will fetch me a good profit, and I have shares in the Eddings Company Trust, which I'm sure I can cash out –'

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.' Horace held up his hands. ‘Where is this coming from? Why do you want to do this?'

Bronwyn had licked dry lips. ‘Because you're in trouble and I'm sick of the way things stand. I don't just want to be the resident groupie anymore. I want you guys to take me seriously. I want a real interest in this business and for you to have a real interest in me.'

Horace smiled. ‘That's fair, I suppose.'

‘I know I'm still green, but don't you think what I've contributed so far has proven my passion about the winery?'

Horace considered this with a laugh. ‘Bronwyn, anyone who could go through the pile of unfiled documents on Chris's desk without a word of complaint must have a passion for this business.'

‘So …'

‘It's not just my decision,' he shrugged. ‘I will have to talk to Lydia about it. If we are going to reduce the share we leave to our children she will want to have a hand in that.'

‘Okay,' Bronwyn agreed. ‘I'm willing to wait on your answer.'

And she was. However, in light of the fact that Jack was here to claim his rightful place, she was doubtful that he was going to be happy about it.

Under the sting of his rejection, she'd been happy to show him the ‘New Bronwyn'. Yet now that the truth had been revealed, all she wanted to do was give her mother a piece of her mind.

So what's stopping you?

Harvest.

It was probably the worst day to be making a private phone call. Everybody was up at sparrows to help process the grapes that had been taken off the vine that night. She could already hear people moving downstairs. In an hour, it would be all on.

The hopper had to be filled. This fed the de-stemmer and crusher. After that they prepped the press and when it had done its business, the must (or grape juice) had to be pumped to the vats or fermentation tanks. Then the lab tests were done and the juice chilled right down. The winery was a bustle of noise, tractors and people. Staff from the cellar door were helping out too. She worked solidly all morning and then thought she'd catch five minutes for herself behind the barrel room to make the call.

When she made her way over there, however, a couple of others appeared to have had the idea first. Chris and Maria were conversing under the open roller door, so Bronwyn stopped before she rounded the corner.

‘In four weeks my visa runs out and I must return to Italy.'

‘In four weeks,' Chris repeated, seemingly at a loss. ‘It seems like only yesterday you started.'

‘Yes. I wanted to speak to you about my resignation.'

‘Of course.'

‘I have really loved working here,' she began uncertainly. ‘I have really enjoyed working for … you.'

Bronwyn crossed her fingers.

Come on, Chris. Read between the lines.

Unfortunately, his response was polite and impersonal. ‘We have really enjoyed having you too, Maria. You make a good impression on our customers.'

‘Thank you, but I just wanted to say –' Maria cleared her throat as if coming to the point with some difficulty.

‘Yes?' Chris prompted her.

‘How much I … admire you. Particularly how far you've come since your accident –'

‘Thank you, Maria, but there's no need to go on.' His voice was stern, cold even. ‘My accident is, after all, a personal matter.'

Bronwyn slapped a palm to her forehead.

‘Of course. So sorry to have intruded.' These last words were said in a mumbled rush and Bronwyn heard Maria's footsteps retreat a little.

‘Maria, wait!'

At last.

‘What will you do when you return to Italy?'

‘I'm not sure.'

‘I've always wanted to visit Italy.'

‘Then you should,' Maria said quickly. ‘Don't let anything stop you.'

And then she'd walked off, almost running into Bronwyn as she came around the corner.

‘Oh, hi,' Maria murmured in embarrassment and quickly walked on. Chris rolled forward to see who she was talking to and Bronwyn twiddled her fingers awkwardly at him as Maria disappeared. He seemed unaffected by her presence, though his lips curved into a smile.

‘Hey gorgeous, what can I do for you?'

‘Don't you “Hey gorgeous” me!' She shook her finger at him. ‘What's going on, Chris? Can't you see she's mad for you?'

‘What? Who?' Chris blinked. ‘You're not jealous of Cathy are you, because I swear to you nothing happened on our date Monday. In fact,' his smile went lopsided, ‘I helped her pick up somebody else. It was all a crock.'

Bronwyn put her hands on her hips. ‘It always is. Except for Maria. So get your bloody act together and do something about it.'

Chris abruptly lost his smile. ‘Honestly, I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but in case you didn't quite
overhear properly
, Maria is going back to Italy. There's no point.'

‘You've never been one to give up.' She looked pointedly at his legs. ‘Ever.'

‘Where is this coming from?' His eyes narrowed. ‘Have you been talking about me with Jack?'

She baulked at this suggestion. ‘Absolutely not. Though there is something you should know.'

He wheeled forward at the seriousness of her expression. ‘Jack leaving the way he did isn't what you think. It's my fault. I hope you can forgive me.'

‘What's to forgive?'

‘Jack left because he got a plane ticket and a job opportunity from my mother.'

Chris blinked, his hands tightening on his wheels. ‘I don't understand.'

‘He thought you guys wanted him gone but it was actually my mum.'

‘But –' Chris frowned. ‘Why would your mum want Jack gone? It's nothing to do with her.'

‘Well, yes it was, sort of, at the time.' Bronwyn shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. ‘I was going to quit law and move to Yallingup to be with your family.'

‘And Jack.' Chris's mouth twisted.

Bronwyn reddened. ‘How did you know?'

‘It's Jack,' he shrugged ruefully. ‘I always knew.'

‘Are you angry?'

‘Yes. No.' He threw his hands up in the air. ‘I don't know what to think anymore. I'm angry at myself more, I guess.'

‘Why?'

‘Because of what I put him through, what I put myself through. All the negative things I said before he left. I was jealous, you know.' He winced. ‘Still am. I've always felt like I got the short end of the stick.'

‘You didn't.' Bronwyn put her hand on his shoulder. ‘You just got a completely different stick. If you stopped comparing yourself to Jack and just asked yourself for a change what you wanted, then maybe you'd realise that the only thing holding you back is you.'

‘That's a lesson you've learnt this month, isn't it?' He smiled at her affectionately, shaking his finger. ‘Don't think Mum and I haven't noticed you lobbying the old man. Very cunning indeed.'

She blushed.

‘Not that we blame you after we both tried to shut you out.' He grimaced. ‘You've actually done a really great job replacing Claudia. Better than great. Yesterday I went into the office and actually saw my desk. It's only been three years!'

Bronwyn shrugged modestly. ‘I enjoyed sorting out all your paperwork.'

‘Then you're completely welcome to keep doing it.' Chris laughed.

‘I hope that ends up being a really long time,' Bronwyn grinned. ‘I really do want to be part of this business.'

‘I believe you.' This time his smile was absent of flirtation. ‘And I hope you get your wish.'

As he rolled off, Bronwyn also hoped that what she had said regarding Jack had at least partially sunk in. She wanted
the brothers to reconcile. It would be a crying shame if they never found friendship again.

As for her mother, she doubted she would ever forgive her.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long to get hold of Bianca Hanks once Chris was out of earshot. It was the middle of the day, so she was almost sure she'd be in court, but Bianca picked up the phone after two rings.