Page 51 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“And when you left?” Rachel asked quietly. “It really was because you found out about Daisy…?”
Anna nodded. “It just felt like an even worse betrayal. I’d learned to live with his affair, even though I hated it. But achild…a whole life apart from me, from us…” She shook her head. “I don’t really remember what happened that day,” she admitted slowly. “Like I told you before. He told me the truth about Daisy, that he’d been visiting her all these years, and then he went out to the barn as if to say that was that. And something just…broke…inside me. I’m sorry—”
“We know, Mum.” Harriet reached over to grasp her hand, and Anna gave her a rather watery smile of thanks. “You don’t need to apologise anymore, trust us. This has all got to me a lot tougher for you than for us.”
“Well, I’m not the one who was cheated out of my inheritance,” Anna returned on a sigh, squeezing Harriet’s fingers before she let go of her hand. “That makes a big difference to both of you.”
“Yes, I could have used an infusion of cash for my business,” Rachel agreed wryly. “But I won’t be lost without it, and Ben and I have already discussed the future…” She blushed, dipping her head. “When—if—we get married, I’ll move into the Mackey farm. I like their place better, to tell you the truth, and Diana is thinking of downsizing, maybe moving into Mathering.”
“And Quinn and I want to buy a place of our own eventually,” Harriet added. She had started to blush, as well. “I know it’s early days, but we’ve already talked about it.”
“Well.” Anna smiled and sat back, shaking her head. “It sounds like neither of you have much need of a mouldy old farmhouse.”
“No,” Rachel replied after a moment, “we don’t. But it still hurts.”
“Yes,” Anna answered quietly. There could be no denying that. “It does.”
*
Back at thefarm, Anna sat at the kitchen table to open Peter’s letter. Harriet had gone over to the hotel to see Quinn, and Rachel had gone to the Mackey farm, so she was alone in the house, save for Fred, in his usual position by the Rayburn. She gave him a small smile as she held the envelope in her hands. “What do you think, Fred?” she asked. “Is this letter going to explain everything? The big mystery finally solved?”
Fred, sensing her disquiet, beat his tail against the floor.
Anna sighed. She didn’t actually think this letter would hold all the answers, but she still hoped it would shed at least a little light. “All right, here goes,” she said, and she slit the envelope with her thumbnail. The letter, written in a painstaking, spidery hand, was unsurprisingly brief; Peter had always been a man of few words.
Dear Anna,
You’ll be surprised to be hearing from me, I know, but I know I’ll have ruffled a few feathers with the change in my will. You’ll be thinking, no doubt, that I’m an ornery man who doesn’t care about his daughters. All three of you have thought that, to one degree or another, and I’m not blaming you, because God knows I’m not an easy man, but the truth is, whether you want to believe it or not, I loved all of you. Not well, I’ll grant you that, which might raise a smile from you—who knows?
As for why I changed the will…well, it’s simple, really. Ruth lost her farm a few years back, and all Daisy has ever wanted is to be a farmer. It’s in her blood, same as me. I was never a proper father to her, and I can already hear you saying I wasn’t to Rachel or Harriet, but Daisy got even less of me than they did. I wanted to make it right with her before I died.
As for Rachel and Harriet…well, those girls of ours never liked the farming life. The house was a millstone around their necks, whether they realised it or not. Oh, I know they’d have liked the money from selling it—who wouldn’t? But Embthwaite Farm has been in the Mowbray family for one hundred fifty years. Daisy will keep it, or try to, I know, and that’s what I want both for the farm and for her. It might not feel fair, but I think it’s right.
As for the money I’ve left for Rachel and Harriet…well, I’m not being stingy, but that’s all there is, besides the land. Farming doesn’t make you rich, not these days. I’m writing this to you because Rachel and Harriet barely speak to each other, although maybe that’s changed by the time you’re reading this. I hope it has. And I hope you come back for those girls, because they don’t have a father now, not that they ever had much of one, but they always had a mother.
Peter
“Oh, Peter.”
His name escaped Anna’s lips on a trembling sigh, and she found she had to wipe a tear from her eye. He was a difficult, ornery man, she thought, but she understood at least some of his logic, and she hoped the girls would, as well. As for Daisy…well, Anna supposed they would all have to meet her one day, maybe one day soon. Mr Hale had told them before they’d left that he would be in touch with Daisy in regard to the funeral arrangements as well as her unexpected inheritance. Would she come? Did Anna want her to?
In any case, they would have to interact with her, get to know her, as she would most likely be living right here, sitting in this kitchen as Anna was doing now. How would Harriet and Rachel feel about that? How did she? Did she want to have a relationship with Peter’s other daughter, who was now orphaned? She could hardly blame Daisy for existing, she knew, and yet it still felt difficult.
Anna rested her chin on her hand as the shadows lengthened outside and the kitchen grew dark. Despite the sorrows and surprises of the day, she felt unexpectedly at peace. Surely there were no more shocks ahead; everything was out in the open, and all three—or maybe even four—of them could find a way to move on.
Which made her think of James… Anna glanced at her phone, but there had been no messages or missed calls all day. He’d texted her last night, to ask her how she was holding up, and she’d responded, but she still hadn’t seen him since their kiss, and she realised she wanted to. Why not right now? Harriet and Rachel were both occupied, and there was nothing for her to do. She could drive over to his house, have a cup of tea and maybe share a kiss…
Impulsively she swiped to dial his number, and then listening to his ring, already anticipating the sound of his voice, that hint of laughter, the alacrity with which he’d invite her over, the joy with which she’d accept.
But the phone kept ringing, and after a minute or two, it switched to voicemail.
Fighting a deep sense of disappointment—James had a life,obviously—Anna left a message.
“James, it’s Anna. Just wondered how you were, and if you fancied a drink or a meal or—something. I…miss you. Quite a lot, actually.” Embarrassed by the emotion in her voice and feeling like she’d revealed too much, she ended the call abruptly and put her phone back on the table. Hopefully that hadn’t freaked him out. It would be good to see him again, she told herself, if just to figure out where they were.
But as the kitchen grew darker and darker, the screen of her phone remained stubbornly blank.
Chapter Twenty
