Page 2 of Back in the Saddle

“What?”

He made the next words as simple as he could. “I’m moving out. Our marriage is over.”

And that was it. That was how a marriage ended. And the worst thing was, Taylor never saw it coming.

Hindsight is a bitch.

1

Ciaron

Sixty-seven days. That’s how long I’d lived alone for, in this house on top of the hill, without my family, who lived at the bottom of the hill. If I lived for another forty years, I’d have another fourteen thousand days of this—emptiness, loneliness, whatever you wanted to call it.

More than once, I’d asked myself if leaving Taylor was the right thing. I’d argue with myself until the reasons no longer made sense. Had I given everything to the marriage, to her? I know I did, but then the doubt would start to creep in. Maybe I could have given more. Was it better to lay beside someone and be alone, or to sleep alone in a half empty bed? I didn’t know the answers.

I stood in my kitchen and watched as the car’s headlights shone up the hill and turned into my driveway. This was the third time this week that Isabelle and Callum had come over for dinner and it was only Thursday. Taylor must be working lateagain.

The front door opened, and Isabelle came in, followed by Callum. She looked so much like her mum, with her long brown hair, deep brown eyes and small freckles across her nose, but she’d never admit it. These days she seemed to resent her mother.

She walked with confidence, almost defiance. It was like she knew her place in the world. A year ago, when she was fourteen, it had been different. She’d doubted herself in every way. My heart lifted at how she’d turned that around.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, parking herself on a stool at the counter. Her thick hair flowed down her shoulders, liberated from the ponytail she’d had to wear it in at school. She also made the most of being freed from herrestrictiveschool uniform, wearing leggings and an oversized jumper with the quoteStay Goldblazoned across the front.

“What’s for dinner?” Callum asked, striding into the kitchen and taking the lid off a pot on the stove. He was wearing shorts in the middle of winter and Ugg boots.

I didn’t know that two children from the one family could be so different until I became a father. Where Isabelle was all serious, Callum was the opposite. Sure, they both had a great sense of humour, but Callum’s seemed to be constantly there, evident in his mischievous green eyes and ready grin. Isabelle didn’t let her emotions out as freely as Callum. He’d just say what he thought, with as much expression as he liked, and moved on. She was more reserved, keeping her feelings more to herself.

I didn’t see that much difference between my four brothers. They were rough and tumble, loud and often antagonistic with each other, but not to me. I probably would have been the same as them if I hadn’t been expected to care for them when I was a kid myself.

“Hi, Dad. How was your day?” I said to the back of his head. His wavy brown hair curled at his collar. Had he combed it today? I didn’t dare suggest a haircut. He’d probably shave it off, just to irk me. I’d leave that one to the school. They’d get on him as soon as it got too wild.

Callum ignored my sarcasm and turned to Isabelle. “Irish stew.”

“Yum.”

The taste of home, like my mam used to cook and her mam before her.

“I’m glad that you approve.” I handed her three bowls and got a plastic container out so they could take leftovers home for Taylor. “Does your mum know you’re here?”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I texted. Not that she cares.”

“She’s busy,” I said, making the usual excuse, weak as it was. After all, it was her busyness that had contributed to our split.

“You work on the farm too,” Callum said. “But you’re never too busy for us.”

My shoulders slumped. “It will get better after breeding season.” I didn’t know if that was true. Work seemed to consume her these past few months.

Isabelle scowled. “As if. Work is more important than us.”

“That’s not true.” I needed to say more, but what? “The drought has everyone working harder.” Lame, but true.

I turned my back to them and went to the pot on the stove before they could see my frown. It was one thing to neglect your marriage but something else completely to ignore your children, to make them feel unwanted. What the hell was wrong with her?

Isabelle was fifteen. She was becoming a woman, but she still needed her mother. There’s only so much a father can do. But I was stretching thosefatherboundaries all the time. What did I know about female body changes and periods? More than I wanted to. And Callum, he was fourteen. They say your kidsgrow up fast and they’re not wrong. It wouldn’t be long before they left home to chase their dreams.

“Isn’t that why you broke up?” Isabelle asked. “Because she was always too busy?”

“That’s between your mum and me.” I stirred the stew and checked the lamb was soft. The children didn’t need to know the many reasons why we broke up. All they needed to know is that it had nothing to do with them and that we still loved them. It seemed like one of us needed to do a little better in that department.

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