A crying face accompanied his final message.Ouch, Little Rae.
She laughed before locking her phone. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to talk to someone without having to shout across hot stoves and flustered waiters.
Maybe coming home would be good for her after all. She certainly could use a friend.
And that’s all they would be: friends.
6
By seven o’clock the next morning, Rae was scribbling in her notepad at the kitchen table with a coffee that had already gone cold. The dogs played in view in the backyard outside, door open to let the cool breeze slip in. It was the most at peace she’d felt in months, but was soon disturbed by the sound of slippers scuffing the wood floor behind her. She turned to find Dad bedraggled in his sleepwear, a grey T-shirt and shorts. The toes of his injured foot hovered like he was afraid to put too much weight on it, but Rae was relieved when he managed to walk to the table with only a mild wince and limp.
‘What on earth are you doing up?’ he questioned.
‘I’m planning how to get the farm back in shape. First of all, we need to start preparing the fields for visitors to come and pick their own fruit, maybe up the entry fee slightly. I’d also like to start preparing preserves for the farm shop; at the moment, there isn’t much going on—’
‘Hang on, hang on. TMI, as the kids say.’ Dad wafted his hands as he sat down beside Rae. Like last night, he propped his foot on the chair adjacent, and Rae hopped up to grab the ice pack before he could protest.
‘That’s not really what TMI… Never mind.’ She placed the pack on his foot, ignoring his trepidation. ‘Do you want a brew?’
‘I want you to sit down and tell me why you’re suddenly managingmyfarm.’
‘It’s technically Gran’s farm,’ Rae reminded, but obeyed with slumped shoulders, feeling like a scolded child. ‘I’m trying to help, Dad. You can’t pretend this place is running the way it should be, and I know you and Gran have been struggling to keep up with the work.’
‘Which has nothing to do with you.’ That rough edge of bitterness left a sting.
She leaned back in a fruitless attempt to protect herself from it. ‘What do you mean? I grew up on this farm.’
‘And then you upped and left. I don’t need you poking your nose in, thinking you’re helping, only to leave us with more problems later. We managed before, and we’ll manage now – without you, like we’ve had to for the last ten years.’
The silence that followed rung hollow in Rae’s ears. She looked down at her neat handwriting, willing her eyes not to tear up. She’d had her fifteen minutes of crying last night, hoping it would help her sleep. She surely should have been good for another twenty-four hours. ‘Just because I moved away for work, it doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be here to help when I can.’
Dad dragged the notes towards him. Too stubborn to get his eyes tested, he squinted to read them. ‘You want to get our produce in the local shops?’
Rae nodded. ‘The tearoom could use our jams, and maybe we could sell some of Gran’s wine to the tavern. I know we didn’t used to need the extra income, but we do now.’
‘But we’d also need the extra staff, and I can’t afford that.’
‘Not with me around. I can do all the heavy lifting.’
She didn’t know why his face still creased with displeasure at the idea, like she was terrible for wanting to help. All they needed was a kickstart to get more regular visitors and buyers. It wasn’t like she was proposing an entire takeover or changing what had always made Sweetbriar so special.
‘The quicker we can get started, the better. That way, we can begin promoting the Strawberry Fair now—’
‘We’re not doing the fair this year,’ Dad cut in.
Rae faltered again, clasping her hands in her lap. ‘What? Why?’
The fair had been her favourite memory – without it, it wasn’t summer at all. Every year since she was little, and long before, thanks to Gran and Granddad, Sweetbriar had hosted a festival to celebrate the end of the summer harvest season, with tractor rides, a tombola, local vendors, and sometimes even live music. She and Martha would spend the entire day playing hide and seek between the shrubs as the farm, Rae’s home, swelled with laughter and joy. She could still feel sticky candy floss and ice cream on her fingers, grass stains on her knees. Less and less businesses had joined in later years, but it had still been lovely to see the extra visitors. Without them, she wasn’t sure how they’d manage through the colder seasons.
‘It’s too much work,’ Dad grumbled. ‘We just can’t make it happen, all right?’
‘But I’m here—’
‘I’m not,’ he interrupted. ‘I won’t be here.’
Rae’s mouth opened and closed, but she was unable to find any words save for, ‘Why?’
‘I’m getting surgery. They’re finally giving me a stoma.’
