Page 56 of Higher Ground
A few moments of peace wouldn’t hurt, though.
Byron had come out to the windmill as soon as he could. He always found a kind of serenity when he sat in the grass in theshade of Josie’s favourite glorified lawn ornament, but when he saw it standing today, something else had washed over him. It was cool despite the warm sun on his neck, and made his pulse race even as he sat calmly on the grass. An intense readiness had smothered all the worry out of him.
After Josie had passed, Byron had come to accept the fact that he would likely die alone. He had figured that he’d had his great love story. It was someone else’s turn now. He never expected to find love again, let alone a love as wholly consuming as the one he had with Emory. They shared something that ran far deeper than the lust-filled attraction he had assumed was all she felt. It was as though their souls had been tied together all along, every moment in their lives leading them to this point, to be together.
They’d make it work. They’d have to.
Byron was still hopeful she’d finish her degree and find a remote job so she could stay in town. Even though he knew the chances were slim. Regardless, it was beyond time they had a proper chat about the future he hoped they could share.
He looked up at the windmill one last time, muttering a thanks to his late wife for giving him the last bit of courage he needed.
“Mum’s windmill survived, then.”
Byron jolted from his near meditative state at Tucker’s voice. He’d been so lost in his own head, he hadn’t heard the quad bike approaching. Pushing to stand, he swatted away the biggest chunks of mud on his old jeans. They were made to get dirty anyway.
“She’d be thankful,” he said as he turned to his son.
Tucker’s blond hair was getting long. He pushed it off his face and tucked a little behind his ear. His hand lingered on his cheek, scratching at the grown-out stubble. He looked …Byron wasn’t sure what the most appropriate word was. Rough, maybe? Unkempt.
Byron wondered how things were with Mya, now that the flood had cleared. If the uneasy way she and Tucker had fallen into living together had settled now that they could spend some time apart. They were both still young. They had time to sort their shit out and Byron hoped that they would. It would do Tucker good, not to be alone.
They’d all been alone far too long, and Byron was ready for that to change for all of them.
The gnawing in his gut returned as Tucker moved to stand on Byron’s left. They looked up at the windmill, and a collective sigh rolled through their bodies. Byron contemplated it all. There was a distinct emptiness on his right side, one he suspected might never feel filled again. The previous day with Jaxon near proved it.
Byron hated the way his eldest son made his blood boil, and he’d always be around when Jaxon finally decided he was ready to live up to the Gardner name again, but Byron suspected that wouldn’t be for a long while yet. He wasn’t sure what went wrong with Jaxon, to lead him to skipping town on his partner and kid and family. But he was done trying to blame himself. Jaxon made his own choices.
In the corner of his eye, Byron saw Tucker cross his arms over his chest. With his eyes closed, Tucker looked peaceful. His loose, unbuttoned flannel flapped against his back, fighting the wind.
Did he know his brother was back in town? After all, Tucker had been into town a few times and hadn’t been restricted to his own property. Byron would have to ask. After Emory, Tucker had taken Jaxon’s swift departure the hardest. Still living with Byron at the time, Tucker had not been able to comprehend how his brother could just … leave. Without saying goodbye or lettingthem know what his plan was. Byron and Tucker had found out from Emory when she’d called, asking if they knew where Jaxon was. If it wasn’t for the scribbled note he left on the counter at the cottage, they’d probably still be wondering, fearing he was dead.
Tucker had been a wreck. Despite all the evidence it had been Jaxon’s incompetence as a father that led to his leaving, Tucker blamed himself somehow. He’d looked up to his brother, and without that role model, he was lost. He’d holed up in his room, trying over and over to reach out to Jaxon—all to no avail. Byron could still remember the way his voice cracked as Tucker had pondered if he could have helped more, done more, to make Jaxon want to stay.
It took a long time, and a lot of convincing, for the teenager to accept that there was nothing he could have done. Still, Byron wasn’t sure how Tucker would handle his brother suddenly showing up in town.
Even more so, he wasn’t sure how exactly Jaxon would react to Byron’s decision to hand the farm solely over to Tucker. It didn’t matter though; Jaxon could act as piss poorly about it as he wanted for all Byron cared. The decision was made. Truthfully, he’d made it a while back. He just hadn’t acknowledged it yet. He probably needed to check it all over with the lawyer, though.
Now that he had, he had to figure out how best to tell his sons.
“Suppose we should go let your cows out?” Tucker asked, nudging his shoulder against Byron’s.
“Need to fix all the fences first. And the gates. Probably clear some mud first and see if we can find grass for the beauties to stand on.”
It was a long list of cleanup. No wonder his dad had called it quits.
He’d loaded everything they needed into the trailer of his tractor before leaving the shed earlier. A few fresh rolls of barbed wire, a lot of new posts, bags of cement, shovels and all the rest. It was going to be a long day, and he was glad Tucker had shown up to help. As the flood cleared further, he’d be able to call his farm hands back to work, but for now, Tucker was all he had.
They’d barely made it around the length of one paddock before the afternoon chill began to hit the air. Almost every post needed fixing in some way. The good ones needed a nudge in the right direction and a little more cement around the base. The bad ones needed to be torn out completely with brand new posts erected and barbed wire wrapped around. The flood had wiped out almost everything.
It was good, in a way, because the strenuous labour had stopped Byron’s mind from spiralling the way it had been all morning. Didn’t take away from the fact that he still had a lot of conversations to have, but it was nice not to think about them all for a while.
The stench from the muddy paddocks followed them back to the big shed. It was like the putrid smell of manure turned all the way up, with a dash of mould. Byron had been able to ignore it at first, but it still lingered. Thankfully, the hay stacked at the back of the big shed had managed to stay dry. It still had a sweet, grassy scent that was a welcome relief as Byron got to work unloading the trailer.
Tucker followed him into the shed after parking his quad bike under the carport.
“Did you know,” he called out as he stepped into the wide space. His voice echoed from the high ceiling. “Jaxon’s back in town?”
Byron stilled. So Tucker did know. He turned to face his son, trying to read the expression on his face. His cheeks were a little red from the sun and wind, but nothing abouthim expressed anything other than indifference. Byron grunted an acknowledgement that sounded a little like “I know,” and shrugged his shoulders.
