Sundown Crossing (19 page)

Startled, Luke turned to look at his mother. ‘Suffered. What do you mean?’

‘That woman’s story deprived me of the brother I loved. Deprived Rolfe of the life he should have had in the Barossa, with his family.’ She looked up
at him. ‘Even you. You were deprived of the uncle you should have known and grown up with, as was Lisel deprived of a big brother.’

Luke let that sink in before saying, ‘You’re basing that on the assumption that Marta lied about her affair with Rolfe. What if she didn’t?’

‘She did, though now we’ll never know. I knew my brother. Rolfe wasn’t capable of doing the things she said he did. Like him, I believe Kurt coerced her into telling Papa what she did, because he knew how Papa would react.’ Before he could ask another question she added, ‘Kurt’s pride was hurt by his fiancée having a one-night stand with Rolfe. That’s why he did what he did. Afterwards, when he realised that Papa wasn’t going to bring Rolfe home—I overheard them talking one day—he tried to convince Papa to change his mind but Papa wouldn’t,’ she shook her head. ‘He had his all-important heir and so his resolve towards Rolfe didn’t waver. He was sure in his heart that he had done the honourable thing, to protect the family’s good name.’

‘But after Kurt and Marta died, didn’t he reconsider?’

She smiled at him. ‘No, because he didn’t have to. He still had an heir—you.’ She thought for a moment then said, ‘Even so, Rolfe might not have returned. He had his pride too, and I think, though I don’t know for sure, that he never swerved from believing he was wrongly accused.’

His mother’s disclosure was something of an eye-opener. She had never spoken so openly, or
been critical of his grandfather. All of which left him in something of a quandary. Who did he believe,
and
who did he align himself with? Carla, though she didn’t know it, had a champion for her cause in his mother and in a way he understood why, especially after what had just been revealed. Greta had missed her brother over the years and now she had the opportunity to get to know his daughter and grandson. Luke could see the appeal that held for her because she was so family oriented.

And, opposed to Greta’s opinion was his grandfather, for reasons that could be just or misguided. Luke’s love and respect for the grandfather he had grown up with was strong. Carl was the family’s patriarch. He had taught Luke everything he knew about winemaking and looked to him to carry on when he retired. So, while he understood his mother’s feelings it made sense to side with the powerbase—Carl Stenmark. And here was the rub. He had some sympathy for Carla, and admiration for what she had achieved. Whether or not Grandfather recognised the trait she was proving that quality Stenmark blood ran through her veins in spite of the difficulties her vineyard had been subjected to.

Right now though he had to clarify in his mind what his mother was going to do with regard to Carla. ‘So, about Carla, what are your intentions?’

‘I will not cut her dead or pretend that she and Sam don’t exist,’ Greta said. The firmness in her tone made it clear that she would not be swayed
from this intent. ‘If we meet somewhere, we will talk. If she asks me to visit Sundown Crossing, I will go.’

‘And tell Papa?’ a voice queried from the doorway.

Mother and son turned to see Lisel standing there. How much of their conversation she had listened in to, they couldn’t know.

‘Only if necessary, or asked. I don’t tell Papa everything and neither do you,’ Greta’s reply was pointed.

Lisel joined them, her expression tight, her irritation obvious. ‘Foolish, soft-hearted Greta. Carla will use you, like she used Josh Aldrich. Milked him unmercifully to get information about Rhein Schloss, according to him.’

‘I wouldn’t give Josh too much sympathy. Josh never does anything or gives out information without an ulterior motive,’ Luke said hard-heartedly.

‘He was very upset when she dumped him, I could tell that though he tried to hide it,’ Lisel went on. ‘The woman’s an out-and-out bitch.’ She stared at her sister. ‘I don’t know why you can’t see that.’

‘I don’t see everyone through jaded eyes, as you do,’ Greta responded, ‘and I’m tired of people telling me what I can and can’t do. If Carla wants to be friends I see no logical reason why we can’t be.’

‘Don’t you see what she’s doing?’ Lisel persisted. ‘She’s pitting us against each other,
driving a wedge between us that didn’t exist before.’

Luke tried to smooth the animosity between his aunt and his mother. ‘Mum, Lisel, if you could only hear yourselves. I can’t and won’t tell either of you what to do, but please, think of Grandfather. Carla’s being in the Valley is an aggravation he doesn’t need at this time in his life. I hope she won’t have the intestinal fortitude or the ability to stick things out till the vintage is saleable. The next twelve months will be critical for that.’

‘Twelve months. We don’t want her here for another twelve months.’ Lisel turned her ire on Luke. ‘We should be doing something to get rid of her now instead of pussyfooting around, hoping she’ll get fed up with scratching for every dollar and decide to move on. Carla needs to be…attended to.’ Her dark eyebrows rose meaningfully. ‘If you know what I mean.’

‘In the past you’ve made your opinion clear about Carla, Lisel,’ Luke’s tone was dismissive. ‘You also know that Grandfather agrees with my strategy but,’ he challenged, knowing in his heart that she lacked the nous to do so, ‘feel free to take the matter up with him.’

‘Christ, are you going soft on her too, Luke?’ Lisel accused, her expression one of acute disappointment. ‘You know she’s a threat to you, to your inheritance.’

‘Carla isn’t after an inheritance,’ Greta replied, getting quite worked up. ‘The woman’s looking for a family, for herself and for her son.’

Luke quickly realised his mother was taking offence at Lisel’s proprietorial tone. Lisel had always been concerned and supportive of him being the one to take over the reins at Rhein Schloss. And, for as many years as he could remember, his mother had overlooked Lisel’s possessive streak, aware that in an odd, twisted way she regarded him as the child she would never have even though there were less than ten years between them.

‘So she says,’ Lisel snarled. ‘Only a fool would believe that.’ Her dark eyes took in the table, where five places were set for dinner. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. Give my apologies to Papa, and Margit,’ she said and stormed out of the room.

Luke and his mother stared at each other. Greta blinked several times and took a deep breath, Luke did too. He was becoming concerned at the level of his aunt’s hatred for Carla. It made no sense because the latter didn’t threaten Lisel. Her place in the family, in the company was secure, so why did she have this extreme reaction? No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t fathom it. And to complicate matters it seemed that his mother was as supportive of Carla as Lisel was in condemning her. Extraordinary, really. He had never known either of them to be so passionate about their feelings. One thing was clear—day-to-day life at Stenhaus was going to become more tense because of it.

In her suite of rooms on the first floor of Stenhaus—large bedroom, sitting room and an ensuite—Lisel at first paced restlessly across the thick carpet until, finally, she went into the bedroom and sat on the stool in front of the dressing table. Automatically her hand reached for her hairbrush and she began the calming action of brushing her dark hair.

Was Luke mad, or just easily fooled? Didn’t her nephew know that in going softly softly with Carla and her son he was putting his inheritance in jeopardy? No matter what her sister said to the contrary. Carla was smart, she had to acknowledge that, and she was succeeding in breaking down the resistance of many people in the Barossa. Doing so was causing Luke to admire her determination instead of continuing to distrust her motives.

Well, Lisel wasn’t so easily taken in and neither was Papa. Between them they’d find a way to get
her
out of the Valley, once and for all!

I
t was a still, crisp winter’s day in the Barossa, cold, but not too cold for a barbecue at Paul van Leeson’s home. He was celebrating the signing of a lucrative architectural commission in the nearby Clare Valley. More than two dozen people sat comfortably or stood on and around the expansive timber deck that extended out a good ten metres from the living room and kitchen. Paul’s land dipped down into a valley and was surrounded by vineyards. Among the guests were the Conrads, Carla, Angie and Sam, the Loongs, as well as a smattering of people Paul dealt with in the course of his work—tradespeople, builders and prospective as well as satisfied clients.

Carla had been working for Paul for a year now and was conversant with his architectural abilities. She considered him extraordinarily talented, not just because examples of his restoration and new work dotted the Barossa
Valley and beyond, but because he was innovative and imaginative in his creative work. Looking around she couldn’t help but admire the design of his own home and how well it blended in with the surroundings. It was modern but not ultra modern and he had used a lot of natural building materials—timber and natural stone as well as large sheets of glass—to take advantage of the rural setting. An abundance of native plants around the house added to the impression of it merging with the countryside rather than standing out from it. She enjoyed coming to his home and whenever she did she always found something new to admire, some detail she had previously missed.

Angie seemed to tune in to Carla’s admiring gaze as she said softly, ‘The only thing lacking here is a woman’s touch.’

‘I guess Paul expected Lisa to provide that.’ Carla’s reply was quick but she schooled her expression to remain impassive; and would not be drawn on Angie’s ongoing attempts at matchmaking, having deemed that the best response was to ignore it. When the desired reaction didn’t eventuate Angie drifted off to talk to a winegrower on the other side of the deck and Carla’s mood became reflective though there was noise and chatter and music all around her.

Life, she decided, was beginning to be good. The solicitor’s letter to Josh had worked, and on the rare occasions she saw him he kept well away from her. That was fine as far as she was
concerned, although she was still conscious of his silent animosity and deep down there was an awareness that she had to keep her guard up where he was concerned. Josh was a problem she had to learn to live with.

However, there were other, more recent compensations which had nothing to do with Josh! She and Greta Michaels had met several times in the park and talked, sometimes with Sam around, sometimes without him. Through Greta she was learning more about the Stenmarks, the family history—that even their name had been changed from the German Steinmarch to the more anglicised Stenmark—and about her father’s formative years and as a young man. One day Greta brought a photo of her mother, Anna Louise, so Carla could see the family likeness. The one person they never talked about in detail was Greta’s father. It was better that way. Besides, through conversing Carla had gleaned information about her grandfather’s nature and the rules he had been taught by his father to live his life by. She accepted that he had had the right to impose such standards on his family although she didn’t agree with their logic.

For more than thirty years Carl Stenmark had allowed disillusionment and anger towards his younger son to influence him until it had become as much a part of him as living and eating and being. Unfortunately, knowing this made her realise one thing with absolute clarity: it would take a miracle or something catastrophic to make
her grandfather change his mind and welcome her and Sam into the family. Still, she took a deep breath, she refused to become depressed by such monumental impossibilities, especially—her wandering gaze took in the vines, presently dormant, and the clear blue sky—on such a nice day.

She saw Paul organising the two barbecues. Becoming aware of her scrutiny he glanced across and saw her standing alone near the deck’s railing. He lifted his wine glass in a silent salute and she saluted back. Then, out of the corner of her eye Carla saw the Conrads moving towards her. They had become good acquaintances if not close friends over the months and their support, Carla believed, had helped a small band of others in the Valley to realise that she and Angie weren’t a threat to anyone and shouldn’t be treated as if they were.

‘Good to see you,’ Walt gave Carla a hug. Frances kissed her on the cheek.

‘Walt, you’ve been away again?’ Carla asked.

‘Western Australia. That Margaret River area’s booming, wine wise.’ Walt smiled at her. ‘The harvest went well here, so I heard.’

‘Very well,’ Carla confirmed. ‘We’ve almost thirty tonnes of chardonnay which, after pressing, will equal several thousand bottles and the eight acres of Shiraz grapes will, after fermentation, yield several thousand bottles of red. Not bad seeing that not quite all the vines produced fruit.’

‘That’s certainly an achievement for your first vintage,’ Frances put in. ‘No wonder you’re pleased. People in the Valley can see that you mean business.’ She said
people
but they all knew who she meant—the Stenmarks.

‘Actually, with regard to your upcoming vintage, I have a proposition that might interest you, and benefit you financially.’ Walt lowered his voice confidentially.

‘I’d love to hear it,’ Carla said, mildly intrigued. She respected Walt’s knowledge and expertise in the wine industry, as she did Angie’s. He had so many contacts and though he was no longer a vigneron, he kept his finger on the pulse of what was happening not only in the Barossa but outside it as well. Besides, what could she lose by listening to his proposal? Then a remark Luke once made, drifted into her thoughts—to the effect of not trusting the Conrads. Carla tossed her head defiantly. Why shouldn’t she? They had shown her nothing but friendship and camaraderie, something her relatives had not!

‘It’s about distribution,’ Walt said, ‘the distribution of your vintage when it matures and is ready for sale. I’d like you to consider me being your agent and handling it exclusively. That is, I’d sell the wine on your behalf, with the money being paid for the sale by the retailer. I have an in, if you know what I mean, in the liquor trade, not just in South Australia but nationwide.’

‘It’s not a large vintage by Barossa standards, surely not enough for exclusivity,’ Carla argued.
She hadn’t thought that far ahead but it couldn’t do her any harm to listen to his pitch.

‘Carla, Angie’s reputation has preceded her, people say she’s an excellent winemaker. It’s known that she spent time in the Loire Valley and Germany honing her skills before she joined your father in New Zealand. If you put your vintage up at a few wine shows and competitions, you might do quite well too. That would give Sundown Crossing a profile which I could sell as a quality boutique winery to the liquor trade.’

Carla knew that was precisely what Angie had in mind to do with what would be bottled—optimistically titling the chardonnay ‘gold’—in the hope that towards the release of the vintage, the wine might warrant a placing or two to give the vineyard a lift in status.

‘Oh, darling, let’s not talk business now. This is a social occasion. Look,’ Frances pointed to the lawn at the front of the house, ‘they’re starting a game of touch footie—kids and women versus the men. Come on, let’s watch,’ she entreated, tugging Walt’s sleeve.

‘All right, all right, love,’ Walt gave in grudgingly and as he did he gave Carla a wink. ‘We’ll talk more about it later, hey?’ He waited till she’d nodded before following his wife. ‘I’ll give you a call.’

Carla also joined the onlookers spread in a thin line along the edge of the lawn, and saw Sam amongst the kids assembling to play. Through
the winter months he’d become a regular footie fan, playing, watching games on television, practising at home though he often complained that Su Lee didn’t have the same keenness he had. Sam and Paul always had a bit of a game when he dropped in, and she appreciated the fact that he gave her son so much attention. Sometimes Paul was like a big kid himself, and she noted that he didn’t mind getting grubby playing ball. In that way he reminded her a little of Derek, her late husband. A man’s man, yet with a gentle, caring nature. But he wasn’t playing today because he was supervising the food and the barbecues needed to cook so many steaks and sausages.

After watching the game and cheering when Sam scored a try, Carla wandered back to the deck to help put platters of food onto trestle tables. Kim and a couple of other women were already stacking plates and cutlery.

‘The touch footie is going to give everyone an appetite,’ Carla told Paul.

‘Good, there’s heaps of food. I think I’ve over-catered. ’

‘It be fine, Mr Paul,’ Kim assured. ‘No worry.’

‘Next time I’ll let Kim organise it. She’s better at working out quantities and such,’ Paul declared with a lopsided grin at the girl.

‘Please do. It’ll be good practice for when she has her own restaurant,’ Carla agreed. Not that she was looking forward to losing Kim, Tran and Su Lee. That event might still be a few years off but it
would happen because Kim’s dream of having her own business was strong. By then Sundown Crossing would be established and making an income and she’d be able to afford more workers, although she thought they wouldn’t be as good as Tran and Kim. And one day, when she was financial enough she’d have Paul design a wine-tasting room and a café which would be built in front of the winery. Perhaps that might work in well with Kim’s dreams and she could open her restaurant at Sundown Crossing. Carla smiled to herself as she thought about the possibilities.

The festivities at Paul’s place went on all afternoon but by twilight most guests had said their goodbyes and departed, leaving a few—the Loongs, Angie and Carla—to help Paul put everything back in order.

‘The cleaning up is the part I hate about parties,’ Paul grumbled good-naturedly.

‘Unfortunately, there can’t be one without the other,’ Angie’s tone was stoic as she emptied the dishwasher before reloading it.

Carla looked around for Sam and Su Lee—they weren’t in the living room or out on the deck. ‘Where are the kids?’ And where was Odin, Sam’s three-month-old German shepherd puppy?

‘Sam decided that Rebel and Odin needed a walk. I said it was okay,’ Paul told her.

She frowned at him as she looked towards the window. ‘It’s almost dark.’

‘Mother hen,’ Angie said with a shake of her head and made a clucking sound at Carla. ‘Go
find them. Paul, you’d better go too. We’ll finish up here.’

‘They most likely went up to the main road, I often walk Rebel that way and she usually takes off in that direction,’ Paul said. His house was set way back for privacy and quiet, a good two hundred metres from the road’s turn off. He took a powerful torch from a hook on the kitchen wall as they went outside.

‘It’s getting dark fast, they won’t have any idea of where they’re going,’ Carla said, becoming more worried by the minute. The last thing she needed after a pleasant day was to have two children and two dogs lost in the bush or in a neighbour’s vineyard. It was getting decidedly chilly too. She thought longingly of Paul’s log fire burning in the fireplace and zipped up her jacket as she walked outside and fell into step with Paul.

Paul gave an ear-piercing whistle. ‘If Rebel’s close enough to hear that she’ll bark.’ Rebel didn’t bark. He whistled again.

In the distance, as they made their way up the road, they heard a dog barking. A short time later the torch picked up Rebel running flat out down the dirt road towards them, her long hair flopping, Odin, the puppy, was trying to catch her, and Sam and Su Lee followed, dawdling, a long way behind.

‘Thank God,’ Carla muttered under her breath. She had been working herself into a state of anxiety. She managed to avoid Rebel jumping
all over her but not Odin, who pawed and pranced excitedly when he recognised her.

‘Mum, Paul, what are you doing out here?’ Sam was puffing slightly as he jogged up to them. ‘Bit dark for a walk. Brrrr, it’s cold too.’

‘We were on our way back,’ the older Su Lee put in, knowing without a word having been said, that they had been missed.

Paul laughed. ‘Kids.’ He shrugged. ‘I know just the thing to warm you up before you go home. A hot cup of Milo, and a nip of brandy for Mum.’

‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed. ‘Mum, may I have the torch?’

Knowing they were safe, the tension drained away. Carla gave Sam the torch and ruffled his hair as he took off again with Su Lee and the dogs. ‘That’s my boy. Sam doesn’t see danger in anything he does.’

‘Pretty typical. At his age everything’s just an adventure, a challenge.’

Paul and Carla turned towards the house. Many of its lights were on and they were a welcoming beacon as darkness fell. Without the torchlight Carla could barely distinguish the road in front of them but Paul was confident of the way. He took Carla’s arm to help her along, until she stumbled into an invisible pothole and went over on her ankle.

‘Ouch! That hurts,’ Carla moaned as she hopped on one foot. Paul’s other hand grabbed her arm to steady her.

‘You okay?’

‘I think so.’ Gingerly, she put the injured foot to the ground. It hurt but not unbearably.

‘There, there.’ It seemed natural for his arms to go around her and draw her to his chest where he moved her head to rest just beneath his shoulder. His fingers began to stroke her hair.

His embrace was like being enveloped in a haven. Warm, secure, safe and…yes, she couldn’t deny it, exciting. Her heart began to pulse rapidly in her chest, and throbbing sensations were moving through her veins, through her muscles, making her stomach go all flip-floppy inside, as if she were on a roller coaster. It was wonderfully intoxicating and scary. Yes, scary. Carla didn’t want to feel…vulnerable, to want things she couldn’t have, to fall in love with someone who couldn’t love her back because his feelings were still engaged elsewhere. That particular thought settled in her brain and grew in magnitude until it completely dominated her thoughts.