‘Yes, of course. I’m totally fine.’ She spoke quickly, not quite meeting his gaze, and then she drew a deep, fortifying breath, hoping it would stop the trembling in her knees. ‘The papers are in the study.’
‘Ellie.’
The unexpected gentleness in his voice brought her spinning around. ‘Yes?’
‘I wish...’
‘What?’ She almost snapped this question.
What do you wish? Tell me quickly, Joe.
Did he wish they didn’t have to do this? Was he asking for another chance to save their marriage?
‘I wish you didn’t look so pale and upset.’
Her attempt to laugh came out as a hiccup. Horrified, she seized on the handiest weapon—anger. It was the weapon she’d used so often with this man, firing holes into the bedrock of their marriage. ‘If I’m upset, Joe, it’s because this is a weird situation.’
‘But we agreed.’ He seemed angry, too, but his anger was annoyingly cold and controlled. ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Sure, we agreed, and yes, it’s what I want. But it’s still weird. How many people agree to a divorce and then put it on hold for four years?’
‘You know why we did that—so you’d be looked after financially if I was killed.’
‘Yes, I know, and that was generous of you. Just the same, it hasn’t been a picnic here.’ Suddenly, Ellie could feel the long months of tension giving way inside her, rushing to the surface, hot and explosive. ‘While you were away being the hero in Afghanistan, you were distracted by everything over there. But I was here, supposed to be divorced, but surrounded by all of this.’
Flinging her arm dramatically, she gestured to the homestead and the paddocks beyond. ‘Every day, I was left with the remnants of our lives together. A constant reminder of everything that went wrong.’
‘So why did you stay?’ Joe asked coolly.
Ellie gasped, momentarily caught out. ‘I’m surprised you have to ask,’ she said quickly to cover her confusion.
He shrugged a cool, questioning eyebrow.
And Ellie looked away. She’d asked herself the same question often enough. She knew exactly why she’d stayed. Even now, she could hear her dad’s voice from all those years ago. If you start something, Ellie, you’ve got to see it through.
Her dad had told her this just before her thirteenth birthday. She’d been promised a horse for her birthday and he’d been building proper stables instead of the old two-sided tin shelter they’d had until then.
Ellie had helped him by holding hammers or the long pieces of timber and she’d handed up nails and screws. While they worked her dad had reminded her that owning a horse was a long-term project.
‘You can’t take up a responsibility like a horse and then lose interest,’ he’d said. ‘I’ve known people like that. They never stick at anything, always have to be trying something different, and they end up unhappy and wondering what went wrong.’
Tragically, her father had never finished those stables. He’d also he’d been mending a windmill and he’d fallen and died three days before Ellie’s birthday. In the bleak months that followed, Ellie’s mum had sold their farm and moved into town, and the horse that should have been Ellie’s had gone to another girl in her class at school.
In a matter of months, Ellie lost everything—her darling father, her beloved farm, her dreams of owning a horse. And the bittersweet irony of her father’s words had been seared into her brain.
If you start something, you’ve got to see it through.
Years later, with a failed marriage and failed attempts at parenthood weighing her down, she’d been determined that she wouldn’t let go of Karinya as well.
‘So why did you stay here?’ Joe repeated.
With her arms folded protectively over her chest, Ellie told him. ‘I love this place, Joe. I’m proud of it, and I’ve worked hard to improve it. It was hard enough giving up half a dream without giving up Karinya as well.’
Joe’s only reaction was to stand very still, watching her with a stern, unreadable gaze. If Ellie hadn’t been studying him with equal care, she might have missed the fleeting shadow that dimmed his bright blue eyes, or the telltale muscle twitching in his jaw.
But she did see these signs, and they made something unravel inside her.
Damn you, Joe. Tell me what you’re thinking.
Painful seconds ticked by, but neither of them moved nor spoke. Ellie almost reached out and said, Do we need to talk about this?
But it wasn’t an easy question to ask when it was Joe who’d originally suggested their divorce. He’d never shown any sign of backing down, so now her stubborn pride kept her silent.
Eventually, he said quietly, ‘So, about this signing?’
Depressed but resolute, Ellie pointed to the doorway to the study. ‘The papers are in here.’
As she reached the study, she didn’t look back to check that Joe was following her. Skirting the big old silky oak desk that they’d bought at an antique shop in Charters Towers, she marched straight to the shelves Joe had erected all those years ago and she lifted down a well-thumbed Manila folder.
She sensed Joe behind her but she didn’t look at him as she turned and placed the folder on the desk. In silence she opened it to reveal the sheaf of papers that she’d lodged with the courts.
‘I guess you’ll want to read these through,’ she said, eyes downcast.
‘There’s no need. Geoffrey Bligh has sent me a copy. I know what it says.’
‘Oh? All right.’ Ellie opened a drawer and selected a black pen. ‘So, I’ve served you with the papers, and all you need to do now is sign to acknowledge that you accept them.’ She still couldn’t look him in the eye.
She was trembling inside and she took a deep breath.
‘There,’ she said dully, setting the appropriate sheet of paper on the desk and then stepping away to make room for Joe.
His face was stonily grim as he approached the desk, but he showed no sign of hesitation as he picked up the pen.
As he leaned over the desk, Ellie watched the neat dark line of his hair across the back of his neck and she saw a vein pulsing just below his ear. She noticed how strong his hand looked as he gripped the pen.
Unhelpfully, she remembered his hand, those fingers touching her when they made love. It seemed so long ago and yet it was so unforgettable.
There’d been a time in their marriage when they’d been so good at sex.
Joe scrawled his spiky signature, then set the pen down and stood staring fiercely at the page now decorated with his handwriting.
It was over.
In the morning he would take this final piece of paper with him to their solicitor but, to all intents and purposes, they were officially and irrevocably divorced.
And now they had to eat dinner together. Ellie feared the Spanish chicken would taste like dust in her mouth.
IT SHOULD HAVE been cosy eating Ellie’s delicious meal in the homestead kitchen to the accompaniment of the steadily falling rain. But Joe had dined in Kabul when a car bomb exploded just outside and he’d felt more relaxed then than he