Page 70 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Amelia continued. ‘You know we were talking at the last meeting about how, even if the RAG eventually agrees on the skatepark proposal—Dave excepted, of course, let’s not hold out for miracles—it’ll take months, potentially a year or more, to get funding and grants and the like?’

He nodded, unable to predict where she was going with the conversation.

‘Well, I rang Ethan. Or, rather, Charlee did. Because he’s in the business, you know?’

‘Ethan,’ he grunted.

‘You know you’re actually very alike?’

His expression must have tipped her off, because Amelia hurried on.

‘In your concern for Charlee, I meant.’

‘I think our concern comes from a very different place. I admit he’s doing her some good but still—’ he shook his head ‘—it’s not anormalrelationship, you know?’

‘Heath …’ Amelia nibbled her lips, then sighed. ‘Look, I’m going to tell you this in confidence, okay? And only because I can see that it’s causing an extra level of hurt that you just don’t need. Ethan and Charlee’s relationship isn’t what you think.’

‘I can assure you, I prefernotto think about it.’

‘He’s her mentor, Heath. Nothing more. She told me the other day.’

‘But Charlee said—’

‘Charlee knows how to push your buttons. But you can’t let her know that you’re now aware, you have to let her think she has control over this little part of her life.’

He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Shades of her grandfather.’

‘Anyway—’ it seemed that Amelia was quickly changing the subject to allow him time to digest this new bombshell ‘—I asked Ethan for a rough idea of what a skatepark would cost.’ She rolled her eyes and he was caught by the flash of amber. ‘Apparently, that was like asking how long is a piece of string, but it seems that if I sold the Cherokee, the cash could make a fair dent in the fundraising effort.’

‘I imagine it would. But what about you? I mean, shouldn’t you be looking to your own future?’

‘Future.’ She gave a sad huff and his chest tightened. She turned away to watch the rain running down the window, the grey sky blending with the grey river. ‘Money is the last thing I need.’

Instinctively, Heath covered her hand with his. Fortunately, the waitress’s arrival with their schnitzels gave him a moment to withdraw and compose himself. ‘My professional background is in financial advice,’ he eventually said. ‘So I’m driven to be cautious. Or at least, advise you to be cautious. I mean, not that I want you to hightail it out of here.’ He had to be careful not to over stress that point. ‘But if you can get some money behind you, you could be building an escape hatch. Fixed-term deposits are yielding well at the moment.’ He had to keep his tone businesslike, because the thought of Amelia leaving made him feel anything but.

Amelia toyed with her dinner, frowning. ‘I don’t need the money.’

‘Your travelling farm, though?’ Heath said, oddly torn by the fact that Amelia would no longer need his financial help, but relieved that she didn’t see the windfall as a means to immediately escape Settlers Bridge. ‘Though I’m happy to help out with that, like I promised. Or fund it completely, whatever you need.’ Hell, he was sounding desperate, but if she was fully invested in the farm, he wouldn’t have to imagine her hundreds of feet above the ground in the frail aircraft.

A tiny smile flitted across Amelia’s lips. ‘The thing is, my parents paid me out a share of the property when they sold it.’ Her face tightened and he realised that the money caused her pain.

‘But you and Charlee have been working for weeks on the logistics and planning for the travelling farm. I thought you brought me on board because you needed financial backing to get it off the ground?’ Not to mention keeping it running and the animals housed and fed.

Amelia’s smile banished her sorrow. She dropped her hand over his and instead of startling from the touch, he caught her fingers. ‘Getting you involved was never about money, Heath. It was about getting you and Charlee to work together. To dream together.’

26

Amelia

‘You look great,’ Charlee insisted.

Amelia stared doubtfully into the mirror. She rarely wore a dress, and in any case, the floaty, mid-thigh number Charlee had chosen for her seemed far too impractical for the wintry weather. ‘No,’ she said decisively.

Charlee’s face fell.

‘I’ll save this for the actual dance,’ Amelia added. ‘I want to make an entrance then. Jeans will do this afternoon. I’ll wear the boots though, break them in. Okay?’

‘Great plan!’ Charlee said. ‘I wish they’d had another pair in my size.’

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