Page 8 of Coming Up Roses
She purses her lips, but doesn’t push. For that I’m grateful.
“Are you coming to Vi’s for dinner tonight?”
I roll my eyes. “Katie Kat, when am I not at Violet’s for dinner?”
She laughs. “This is true.”
Violet is Olivia’s mum and the owner of Wildflower Ridge. She’s technically my boss, though Olivia is the one running the show around here, with her mum’s full support. Violet has always had an open-door policy at the main house, for as long as I can remember.
My mum was her best friend, so I’ve always been around Wildflower Ridge. I learned to ride a motorbike on the driveway with my dad, Olivia, and her dad, Henry. I fell asleep on the worn couch in the living room more times than I could ever count. I met Katie on the front porch of the house, a boring old day that ended up changing my life in a way I didn’t expect.
I worked at Wildflower Ridge after school, on weekends and every school holidays and went full-time straight out of high school. These days it’s home too.
Violet’s kitchen is always open, and she always cooks enough dinner to feed an army, so most of the time I eat there, rather than cooking for myself. Dallas, Sadie and Katie join us sometimes, though less often now they’re their own little family.
Aside from my brother, who lives in a somewhat grimy flat above the mechanic’s workshop he manages, all of my family is at Wildflower Ridge.
When my parents died, this is where we came, into the loving care of Violet and Henry, until legalities were sorted andHunter and I moved back to our home in town, my barely eighteen-year-old brother my legal guardian.
I hose down the tractor, using a soft brush to clean off any mud, while Katie stands and watches me. “You could help you know.”
“Or I could watch you.” She pokes out her tongue. “Oh, they’re leaving. I can go feed the girls now.”
Dallas, Abigail and Sadie are making their way back up the driveway. I guess they forgot I’m here, or just didn’t bother to say goodbye. It’s not like Sadie, but I guess she’s got things on her mind right now.
As they disappear over the hill, Katie heads back to the barn and a moment later is out in the paddock, checking over the horses and giving them their dinner.
Once I’m finished with the tractor, I park it in the huge implements shed beside the barn.
It’s really too early to finish work for the day. I have a list of things to do a mile long. But I wasn’t lying to Katie when I said I was tired.
I can’t stop thinking about Abigail and the way her green eyes looked up at me, pleading, while filled with tears. I don’t know how I made it through that moment, I don’t know how I managed to talk her through it and calm her down. I felt anything but calm, and now, I feel completely wrung out.
I need to get out of my head, and there’s only ever two things that help me do that. One is sleep, but considering the time, if I sleep now, I’ll never sleep tonight, and the second is a ride.
I should just go for a quick blast down the farm. I couldcheck the cattle while I’m out there. It would be a better use of my time.
But I need something more today.
I wheel my bike out of the shed, load it onto the back of my ute and strap it down. My riding gear is already in the backseat, so after sending a quick text to Violet to let her know I won’t be there for dinner after all, I head out.
I roll my windows down and turn up the music as I pull out of the Wildflower Ridge gate. I love this time of year. It’s coming into summer so the days are getting longer, the temperature’s warmer and there’s a bit more sun in my life. Though I’m grateful for the sun now, soon I’ll be cursing it when it makes my freckles run rampant.
This is exactly what I needed. The wind on my face, a little bit of freedom. Not that Wildflower Ridge is stifling. Except when it is.
Sometimes the itch under my skin gets to be too much and I need to get away. Fortunately for me, the perfect spot for my escapes isn’t too far from home.
It’s a long stretch of beach that borders the neighbouring farm to Wildflower Ridge.
Constellation Station is another place I know like the back of my hand. The owners George and Clarissa Sheridan were also friends with my parents, and their twin sons are the same age as Olivia and me.
Max and Toby were my best friends through primary school. Toby died a few years ago, and Max had a personality transplant somewhere around the age of sixteen, so I have very little to do with him these days. I don’t know what he’d sayabout me accessing the beach through his property, but I doubt he’d stop me. Being the orphan child of Trent and Isla Woods occasionally has perks, and people not wanting to say no to me is one of them.
I’m singing along to the music at the top of my lungs when I round a sweeping bend in the road. Pulled over on the narrow shoulder is a silver sedan, its hazard lights flashing.
I pull in behind the car and stride up to the driver’s side window, knocking on the glass.
A muffled shriek comes from the person in the driver’s seat, and a moment later the window rolls down.
