Sky Cowboy (3 page)

At what point do you stop wanting someone you know you can never have?

I take a deep breath, contented with the life changing decision I’ve made and ride Sampson back to the house to break the news to my father and mother, who should be home from work by now.

They’re both sitting at the table, sipping coffee when I walk in.

“How’s my girl feeling today?  You been out on Sampson?”

“Hey daddy.  I’m okay, I feel better now
that I’ve had a ride.”

“
Good, darlin’.  You just have to keep in mind that she’s not in pain anymore.”

“I know.  Actually, I wanted to talk to you both about something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”  I twist my hands together in my lap, all of a sudden overcome with nerves.

“Well, go on,” my mother encourages.

“I want to go to France
and work as an Au Pair for a while.” My words come out in a nervous rush.

“What’s an old pear an
d why do you have to go to France for it?  I know they eat snails and shit over there but you can get rotting pears off any tree ‘round here.  You know that.”  My father looks at me, perplexed.

I look at him adoringly and laugh a little before answering.  “Not an old pear, an Au Pair – it’s a French term for a Nanny; a child minder.  What do you think?”

“Have you looked into the specifics?”  My mother asks.

“I have.  I’ve been researching on the internet.  Most of the jobs come with accommodation, so I wouldn’t even have to find a place to live.  A girl I knew at
school runs an agency in Paris and she said she’d be happy to help me find a family to work for.” I don’t tell her that I’d already organized the paperwork I’d need.  I also don’t tell her that my decision to go was wholly based on her slut daughter fucking the only man I ever wanted.

“Well, Elizabeth, what do you think?” My dad asks my mum.

“I think it sounds like a great opportunity, Ava.  I think it will do you a world of good.”

I beam at mum despite her
little dig about it doing me a world of good.  What she means is, maybe I’ll return as a refined lady.

“Dad?” I look to my father, Michael.

“I agree with your mother.  When are you thinking of going?”

“Sooner rather than later, actually.  I’ve really only got to book flights and then I’m good to go.”  I
stand up out of my seat and go to my father first.  Wrapping my arms around him, I whisper in his ear, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies gruffly.

I release him and hug my mother.  Not as tight though.  She prefers a delicate, loose hug with a limp pat on the back.

The earliest flight I could book was two weeks away. 

Then, I was on my flight, bound for Paris, France.

I spent the next three and a bit years
working for the Rousseau family.  The two children I minded were delightful and well-mannered little beings whose parents were pillars of society in their community.  The boy, Enzo, was seven and his sister, Mathilde, was six.  They both attended an elite private school during the day, which left me a few hours of free time.  My basic routine was to get them out of bed, fed and dressed and off to school on time.  Unless there was something specific that Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau had requested I do, school hours were my own.  I explored and shopped.  I spent a great deal of time in silent contemplation; thinking about Jeremy and me, then Jeremy and my sister. 

Slowly but surely, my heart started to mend.  I met a wonderful French man named Gaston.  We met at the park one day; he was there walking his dog, I was there reading in the sunshine.  He wasn’t the most beautiful looking specimen, but he had a heart of gold that more than made up for his lacking in the looks department.  I loved seeing his dimple appear when I made him laugh.  Even more, I loved hear
ing him say my name in his sexy-as-hell French accent.  He was the complete opposite of Jeremy and just what I needed.  He was a businessman and wore suits.  He spoke good English and treated me like a queen.  We’d been together for about two months when I gave him my virginity.  He was sweet, caring and gentle.  It didn’t hurt like I thought it would, but I remembered reading somewhere a long time ago that sometimes horse riding can rupture a woman’s hymen.  It seemed that was true for me because there was no searing pain like I had imagined there would be.

Gaston and I became close, but we both knew it wasn’t going anywhere.  He was climbing the corporate ladder in his dad’s company and I would soon be heading back to Australia.  We’d been seeing each other for around ten months when the time came for us to say
au revoir
.  I said a tearful goodbye to Enzo, Mathilde and their parents and after, Gaston drove me to the airport.

“
Bébé, vous êtes si précieux à moi
,” Gaston whispered in my ear as we hugged tightly in the departing lounge.  I’d learned plenty of French since I’d lived here – my mum and dad had even remarked that I’d picked up a bit of an accent myself – so I could understand a lot of what people said to me.  Sometimes it was difficult if they spoke really fast, but as long as I could pick up a few words here and there, I could generally piece together what they were saying.

“You’re precious to me, too,” I choke
d back.

“
Vous êtes mon amour et je vous manquerai
.”  He looked me directly in the eye and said the words so sincerely; I couldn’t help but let a sob escape.  His beautiful words meant
you are my love and I will miss you.

I kiss
ed him on the mouth and whispered, “Je t'aime.  I love you.”  Then, I boarded my plane and headed for a country I’d missed beyond belief, my Australia.

I’m
nervous on the flight back.  Mainly because I haven’t spoken to my sister since I left.  She hasn’t tried to contact me so I haven’t made the effort either.  My parents have kept me informed about her work and how proud they are of her. 
Oh, and we’re proud of you as well, Ava.
  Yeah, that’s me – always a fucking afterthought.  I had bitten my tongue every time I wanted to ask about Jeremy – which was a lot – so I had no idea how he was or what he had been doing.  I was excited and nervous to see him again and I couldn’t help but wonder if my old feelings would resurface.  I had successfully managed to rebuild my shattered heart while I was away and I was feeling good about going home.  I was ready.  It was time.

“Oh, Ava,” My mum gasps, “Look at you!  All grown up.”  She pulls me in for a loose hug with a customary pat on the back before holding me at arm’s length to look me over.  When I first moved abroad, I had gotten my hair cut into a sharp bob just below my ears.  When I left, it was halfway down my back, so the change was a bit dramatic.  I also wore a cute little beret.  My fingernails were now long and manicured – something I knew would have to change once I got back to the Station; you couldn’t have long nails when working on a property.

I can’t explain the feelings I felt when my mum drove through the gates of our property.  Seeing that big wooden sign declaring
,
Holderwood Station
,
was surreal.  I felt giddy.  A big grin spread across my face as I remember something that has sprung to my mind every single time I’ve driven past that sign.  When I was a child, my mum used to tell us it was “Hollywood Station”, not Holderwood.  She used to beg our father to change the name.  He refused, sensibly so, if you ask me.  But that didn’t stop our mother sighing,
Hollywood Station
, every time she passed through the gates. 

Ahh, it’s good to be home.

The first few days after I arrived home were hectic.  I was bus
ting to take Sampson for a ride. For a horse lover like me, not riding for almost four years was torture.  I also had to deal with a bitch called
jetlag
.  It really takes it out of you.

I’d been home for three days before Kennedy came to visit.  Three whole drama-free, bitch-free, blissful days.

“Kennedy couldn’t get off work, dear.  Otherwise she would have been here sooner.”  My mother tries to make excuses for her prodigal daughter.

Bullshit she would have been here
. 
Thank god she has a job.

I
use the word
job
loosely though – my sister is not a fan of hard work.  Actually, she’s not a fan of any work.  She’s employed by an overweight, old, greasy-haired man named Frank.  Her job is to sit at the front counter of his car lot and look pretty.  She wears skimpy, tight clothing to distract potential buyers so they end up buying a car they probably don’t really want.  She answers the phone in a voice you would imagine a phone sex operator using, and the only reason she keeps her job is because she’s fucking Frank.
Yeah, she’s seriously fucking a disgusting man old enough to be her father.
 
Yuck!
  Our parents don’t know that, obviously.

“Ava!”  Kennedy squeals when she spots me in the kitchen. 
Anyone would think she actually missed me.

She runs toward me and gives me a hug.  “Have you put on weight?  You look fatter.”  She says the words quietly, so only I can hear.

“Fuck off, Kennedy,” I chirp back.

“So, what’s been happening since I’ve been gone?”  Mum, Kennedy and I are sitting arou
nd the table, drinking coffee and eating leftover pastries that weren’t sold at the Coffee House today.

“
Well, let’s see.  Scott and Maggie Henley retired.  They took off traveling around Australia.  They’ve since returned and left again.  Jeremy and Jackson have taken over the property.  Jackson built himself a house on the other side of the property – he runs the cropping part of the Station now.  Jeremy lives in the main house with Oscar and he takes care of the cattle.”

No surprise that t
he only news she has to tell me is about the Henleys.

“Who’s Oscar?”

“Oh! Ava, I just thought of a fantastic idea.”  My mother claps and beams like she’s just struck gold.

“Again, Mum.  Who’s Oscar?” I ask, a little impatiently.

I look to Kennedy and she has a smug, all-knowing grin on her perfect face.  She hasn’t changed a bit since I’ve been away - in looks or personality.  She’s still got the same long, shiny chocolate brown hair, the same perfectly proportioned body and the same flawless skin.  And she’s still a mega bitch.

“Why, he’s Jeremy’s son, of course.  I thought I told you.  Maybe I just told Kennedy.”  Her words fade off; drowned out by the sound of my heart breaking.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as I tried to work my mind around Jeremy having a child.  A son.  A baby named Oscar.  I waited with baited breathe until Kennedy left and then I sat my mother down to find out the story behind Oscar.

“Tell me more about Jeremy’s baby, mum.  Is he married now?  How old is
the baby?”  I try for nonchalance, but I’m not fooling anyone.  My mother looks at me with a raised eyebrow.  A small smile touches her lips and then she fills me in.

“When Claire fell pregnan
t, she wanted to give the baby up for adoption.  Said she wasn’t ready for a baby and she didn’t want it.  Jeremy forbade it, and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.  Word around town is, there were lawyers involved and contracts drawn up.  I’m sure Jeremy gave her some money – like a payoff.  Maggie told me that Jeremy gave her the option of being in the baby’s life but she declined.  She left the same day Oscar was discharged from hospital.  Haven’t seen her around town since.   He’s six months old now.  Such a darling little boy – the spitting image of his father and uncle.”

“Wow.  Poor Jeremy.  How long had he and Claire been together?”  I scrunch my nose up when her name falls from my lips.  I don’t like the thought of Jeremy being with anyone else.  I know I have no right to feel that way, but sometimes you just can’t help how you feel.

“Oh, I guess about a year.  The broke up before she found out she was pregnant.  Maggie mentioned at a C.W.A meeting that if the baby wasn’t so obviously a Henley, she would have demanded a DNA test.  Claire wasn’t exactly …
good wife material
.”  My mother sniffs and puckers her lips.

A deep frown settles on my face as I look at her.  “Stop acting all
high and mighty, mum.  I swear to god, all the Country Women’s Association is, is a bunch of old biddies who are trying to be snotty, upper class bitches.  It doesn’t suit you, and to be honest, now I know where Kennedy gets it from.”  I stand up and walk from the room, leaving her shocked, I think. 
Well, good.
  What gives her the right to act better than anyone else? 

You can do this, Ava.
  “You can do this, Ava.”  I repeat the words out loud, hoping that they’ll have more of an effect at calming my racing heart.  It doesn’t really work, so I take a big, deep breath and let it out slowly.  All the while, my eyes are glued to the massive homestead in front of me.  I’m going to visit Jeremy.  Say hello.  Catch up.  See if he needs help with the baby. 
See if he still looks as edible as I remember…

I knock on the door and wait.  My palms are sweating profusely from nerves and my heart is beating so hard, I think it might just jump out of my chest.

“Ava!  Hey.  You’re back.  It’s great to see ya.”  Jeremy says as he opens the door and envelopes me in a tight hug, taking me by surprise.  My body naturally melds with his and I breathe in his musky, masculine scent.  He’s got on my favourite aftershave – just smelling that stuff on a man sends tingles straight to my nipples!

“Hey, Jeremy.  It’s great to see you, too.”

“Come inside.  We’ll catch up. I’ve missed you.” 

Oh god, seriously.  He’s missed me?  I want to jump up and down and shake my booty while doing cartwheels across the lawn.

He takes my hand and leads me inside the massive homestead.  I’ve been in this house numerous times over the years as we were growing up and the first thing I notice is that Jeremy has updated the furniture.  Gone are the floral print lounge chairs.  In their place is a gorgeous black leather couch and when I sit down on it, I feel like I’ve literally sunk into a cloud.  It’s heaven.  Jeremy sits down beside me and then abruptly stands.  “Sorry, Ava, I should have offered you a drink,” he mutters quickly.

“I’ll have one if you’re having one.”

“Hang on.”  I watch his perfectly toned backside move inside his jeans as he strides away.  He’s got such a sexy ass, and although I’ve never felt it, I have
imagined
what it feels like on numerous occasions.  I bet it feels like heaven in your hands.  The perfect combination of hard, muscled firmness versus soft, plump cushioning. 

“Here
ya go,” he says, handing me a can of coke and breaking me from my dangerous thoughts.

“Thanks.  So, you’ve updated the place a bit,” I say, trying to break the ice.

He laughs, but it sounds…nervous.
Forced.
  “Yeah, the floral print really didn’t do it for me.”

“Oh, before I forget, dad wanted me to
ask you if you had a few spare choppers free next week sometime.”

“Should be right.  I’ll give him ring tonight and sort it out.”

“Thanks.”

I take a sip of my drink, unsure of what to say next.  The silence is painful.

“How was Paris?”  Jeremy asks.

“Great,” I exclaim
, a little too enthusiastically. “I had a fantastic time.  It’s such a beautiful place.  Actually, that’s why I’m here.  Mum told me about Oscar, and I thought I’d swing by and let you know if you ever need a babysitter I’d be happy to look after him.  I was a nanny for two kids in Paris and I really enjoyed it, so the offer’s there if you want it.  I know you’ve got your parents and Jackson to help out, but I’m here if you need anything.”

“Uh, yeah, actually that would be good.  Mum can’t always help out and when Jackson and I go on overnight musters, I won’t be able to take Oscar
.  So, I might just have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

Just then, the beautiful sound of a newborn baby’s cry comes through a little monitor resting on the coffee table.

“Speak of the devil,” Jeremy chuckles.

“Can I get him up?” I offer.

“Sure.  He’s in the master bedroom with me.  I’ll just heat his bottle up.”

I make my way down the hall to the main bedroom.  The door is closed but I can hear the baby fussing.  I slowly open the door and walk over to the dark wooden crib next to the bed.  I peer inside and looking back at me is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.  Dark hair, blue eyes – the spitting image of his father.  Tears prick my eyes as want rushes over me.  I want this baby to
be mine and Jeremy’s.  I can’t help imagining if he was.  Scooping him up, I hold him to my chest and kiss his soft little forehead.

“Hey, baby boy,” I coo.  He snuggles into neck and I breathe in his delicious baby scent. 

“Here’s my little man,” Jeremy says softly as I hand him Oscar.  “You hungry, mate?”  I sit beside him on the lounge and watch as he lovingly feeds his handsome baby son.

I really want to ask about Oscar’s mum, but it’s none of my business, so I don’t.  Instead I just watch and secretly imagine that this is my life.

“So, Ava, do you reckon it’s about time we talked about what happened between us before you ran off to France?”  Jeremy stuns me with his question. 

We’re sitting at one of the wooden table
s at the Cow and Calf, enjoying the sun on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  Jackson has just left the table to refill our drinks and one year old Oscar is babbling in his pram beside Jeremy.  I’ve babysat for Jeremy countless times since I got home, and there’s been a few ‘moments’ where we’ve almost kissed, but each time, a snarky voice enters my mind, reminding me about Jeremy and Kennedy.  A shiver (not of the good kind) runs through my body at the thought of them together.  I’ve pulled away every time before his lips have touched mine, but it’s taken everything I have – trust me!  Regardless of the time we’ve spent together lately, this is the first time he’s brought up that night.