Sundown Crossing (25 page)

‘Okay,’ Kim and Tran said in unison.

A few minutes later the two members of the Loong family were on the motorbike and going up Paul’s long drive towards the road. Kim smiled as the wind blew her hair this way and that. She was proud of her brother because he had done the right thing and told Paul. Earlier that day it had taken some cajoling on her part to get him to agree to talk to Paul—he hadn’t wanted to get involved in a potentially messy business—but, finally, he had shown the courage to do what was right. Him doing so gave her hope that he was beginning to mature and she was doubly pleased because, lately, she was seeing signs that he was trying to curb his penchant for gambling. That happening was something she prayed to Buddha for…every day.

Carl Stenmark sat beside his bed in the comfortable armchair which was provided by the exclusive convalescent home. His blue eyes stared at the curtains as they wafted gently in the afternoon breeze that whispered through the open window. He was enduring a salutary lesson, doing something alien to his nature—virtually nothing, day in, day out. That’s what the doctors said he needed to do to get better and trying though it might be, he was, grudgingly, following their instructions to the letter.

The one activity he found plenty of time for was…thinking! About Anna Louise and how much he still longed for her company, after more
than thirty years of not having her with him. About Rhein Schloss: the company had, since his youth, given him a sense of purpose and pride in his achievements because he’d taken it to being close to the best winery in the Barossa. And also about Kurt and Marta and Rolfe and that turned his thoughts to Rolfe’s passionate, stubborn daughter and Sam, his great-grandson.

Carla, who resembled his long-dead wife so much. Looking at Rolfe’s daughter caused his heart to swell, and made memories of Anna Louise return with a sharp clarity—the pain of losing her and the pleasure of having loved her. He shook his mane of white hair and forcibly moved his thoughts elsewhere. What a stupid old man you are, to wallow in such melancholy. It will get you nowhere. But then came the question, was that true? Perhaps he needed to remember the problems with his firstborn son and Rolfe, even though it was so long ago. All he had to show for all the years and work was…Luke and yes, he couldn’t continue to deny it, Carla and Sam. Rolfe’s daughter and grandson were related to him, that was an undeniable fact. Neither, and this was quite a concession, could he ignore their relationship in his heart, no matter what his youngest daughter said so spitefully, that Carla was interested in the Stenmarks for the prestige and financial gain it might bring her.

Somehow, and possibly because he wanted to…a little desperately…he couldn’t bring himself
to believe that Carla was so calculating. Shaking his head, he gave a deep sigh. Not like Lisel. Of all his children, and Luke, she was the coolest, the most analytical and the most cynical. For many years Lisel’s behaviour had puzzled and frustrated him. Deep down he thought her a very unhappy, dissatisfied woman who, in his opinion, had very little to be dissatisfied about. Two failed marriages and a succession of brief affairs in and outside the Valley seemed to have exacerbated Lisel’s attitude. The family thought they successfully hid things from him, that he didn’t notice, but he was aware that his calm, serene Greta had in the past bowed to Lisel’s stronger will but with regard to Carla no longer did so, and that Luke, loyal nephew that he was, protected his aunt as much as he could. But he knew. Oh, yes, he knew the type of woman Lisel was.

And now there was another complication in the family, Luke espousing to have feelings for Carla! If it were so and not just a passing attraction, he knew that such a situation could force him to make certain mental adjustments. Frankly, at his age and in his situation he had to be practical. He could not afford to lose or alienate his grandson, whom he had groomed to take over Rhein Schloss, and if that meant he had to forget about acquiring the Krugerhoff land and welcome Carla into the family, then he would put aside his pride, cast off the past and do so.

Besides, he queried, would doing so be such a hardship? Apart from Lisel, everyone in the
family liked Carla and even he admitted that she had earned his respect. In fact, he held a grudging fondness towards his feisty red-headed granddaughter and her son. He made a growling sound in his throat. What an admission that was, and something he could not have countenanced making twelve months ago.

Having gone through as many ruminations as he felt comfortable with, Carl hauled himself out of the chair and slipped into his casual shoes preparatory to taking a walk around the convalescent home’s expansive, manicured gardens.

A month after Carl’s heart attack he was back at his job as Rhein Schloss’s CEO, but working reduced hours, from 10 am until 3.30 in the afternoon.

On one afternoon at home as he sat in his study, reading the mail, Greta came in with a book, not a very big book, tucked under her arm. ‘How are you feeling, Papa?’

He looked up at her. ‘One hundred per cent okay, my dear. I’m fitter than I’ve been for years.’

‘That’s good because…’ Greta bit her lip and then hesitated.

‘What is it, Greta?’

She took a deep breath and garnered her courage. ‘There’s something I think you should read.’

‘You know I don’t like fiction.’ He scowled at her.

‘It’s a journal, Papa. Rolfe’s journal, written before he left Stenhaus all those years ago.’

Carl’s scowl deepened. ‘Why would I want to read that?’ he said curtly. He threw the letter opener down on the desk blotter in annoyance. ‘I do not want to dredge up the past,
again.
There is no point in doing so.’

‘I believe the journal will put the happenings of the past into the right perspective,’ she went on doggedly. ‘And in fairness to Rolfe, Carla and Sam you should read it.’

‘How did you come by it?’

‘From Carla, Papa.’

He gave her a quelling look designed to make her back off but in doing so was surprised by her determination not to. ‘Loyalty is one of the things I admire and, Greta, you have an abundance of it. Very well, leave the journal with me. I will read it when I get a spare moment.’

Obviously relieved, Greta passed the timeworn journal to him. ‘I will bring you your afternoon coffee, Papa.’ She suggested as a peace offering, then left the study as quickly as she could, before he changed his mind.

Carl placed the musty-smelling journal on the right side of the desk.
Later,
he thought to put off the inevitable. He would read it later.

Carl read the journal with its faded handwriting twice. And then, after dinner and with daylight diminishing he took a turn around the garden, stopping near the swimming pool. His mind was
a jumble of thoughts and memories—what he had said to Rolfe, his younger son’s answers and how he had brushed them away, preferring to believe Kurt and the not-so-innocent Marta.

Dear God, what an injustice he had perpetrated by letting anger overtake common sense and reasoning. There was no excuse for it, not then, not now! He took no pleasure in being brutally honest with himself, admitting that his decision had, at the time, been influenced to a large extent by his younger son’s rebellious nature and an irrational need to discipline him for being an independent thinker. Why? The question pounded through his brain. Why had he felt such alienation from Rolfe? Even now, after all the years of thinking and analysing the event, he could not find an answer other than that being the type of man he was, and had been brought up to be, rebellion of any kind within the family did not sit well with him.

All the empty years…things could have, should have been so different.

Guilt raced through him like a tidal wave.
Mea culpa, mea culpa.
Carl sat there until it was almost pitch black apart from the glow coming from the house, until the insects stopped their murmurings and the birds quietened. When he got up he knew what he had to do. He had to begin to make amends for all those lost years.

C
arla, nervous about her first official visit to Stenhaus and having dinner there, gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles began to turn white.

‘Watch out, Mum, you’ll hit those tins of paint,’ Sam warned, his voice pitched higher than normal as they took a corner of the yard a little too quickly when she steered in the direction of the driveway that took them to the vineyard’s entrance.

Carla spun the wheel to get out of trouble. ‘Stupid place to leave paint tins. I’ll have Tran move them in the morning,’ she grumbled as she righted the steering wheel. A month ago they had ordered several litres of green paint to spruce up the storage shed and the winery during winter, the best time to do property maintenance because the vines were dormant.

As she drove towards her grandfather’s property, Carla reviewed how the dinner invitation had come about. She had managed to see her
grandfather twice while he was convalescing and the change in his attitude towards her had been remarkable. She had expected awkwardness, even hostility and had been prepared to weather it but she hadn’t had to. He had been amazingly civil towards her and Sam and she, trying to make sense of the change in him, assumed it was because of his heart attack. His brush with death had mellowed him.

Then, a few weeks after Carl had come home Greta had phoned and asked her and Sam to have dinner with them on Saturday night. Swallowing her surprise she had accepted. Now, though, she was nervous and a little apprehensive. Talking it through with Angie, her friend had stated that she believed something important had occurred to make Carla’s grandfather change his stance towards her and that it could be something more profound than the heart attack. Carla shrugged as she turned onto the long drive that led to Stenhaus. Did it really matter what Grandfather’s motivation was so long as it had happened? Probably not. All she could hope for was that in time all would be revealed.

Driving up the crushed gravel drive with its border rows of pencil pines and rose bushes she was reminded of the only other time she had come to Stenhaus, and been insulted by her aunt. Lisel would be there tonight. She knew from her brief relationship with Josh Aldrich that it was common practice for all Stenmarks to dine in on Saturday nights. Coming face to face with her
again was going to be a challenge, to say the least, but she knew one thing—her blue eyes glittered with determination as she thought it—no matter what, she had no intention of backing down or kowtowing to the disapproving, sharp-tongued Lisel.

Greta welcomed Carla and Sam at the front door and ushered them down the wide, tiled hallway into the atrium’s informal dining-cum-family room.

‘Traffic was light,’ Carla said, explaining why they were twenty minutes early.

‘Not so many tourists around in winter. It’s good that you’re early, we’ll have time to talk before Papa joins us.’ Greta took Carla’s arm. ‘Come and sit by the window. Luke will be down soon, he’s the family’s unofficial drinks maker.’

Sitting, Carla cast her gaze around the room. ‘This is delightful. I love the glass, the tiles, the rug.’ She stared at a set of Australian outback paintings on one of the walls. ‘It’s very warm and welcoming.’

‘Thank you. Your friend Paul designed the room and Papa allowed me a free rein with the decorating. I’m pleased with the result and so is the rest of the family. Papa spends a good deal of time in this room, what with it being close to the kitchen, the patio and the vines.’

‘I can understand why,’ Carla said with an approving nod.

Entering the room, John, Greta’s husband, came over and shook Carla’s hand. ‘It’s nice to
see you here, Carla. You too, Sam.’ He had a cloth bag in his left hand, which he passed to Sam. ‘Some of Luke’s toys from when he was young. Thought you might like to play with them.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Sam said politely, after checking with his mother that it was okay. Then he dumped the toys on the floor near the sofa and began to sort through them. He held up a spinning top. ‘What do you do with this?’

John knelt and showed him how to push the plunger up and down until the top gathered speed and began to whir madly, emitting a high pitched whine. When John let it go it careered across the floor.

‘That’s cool,’ Sam was duly impressed.

Luke, dressed casually in a cream turtleneck sweater and charcoal grey slacks, arrived. His smile was wide with pleasure as he saw Carla and Sam and, after taking drinks orders he went to the well-stocked bar to organise refreshments. Passing out the drinks, he held his glass high and gave a toast. ‘To new beginnings.’

Carla smiled. She knew that he was referring to the fact that after being in the Barossa for more than two years she was close to being united with her relatives. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

Five minutes later Carl Stenmark entered. An awkward silence descended on the room for several seconds until he approached Carla and Sam. As she rose from her seat Carl placed his hands on her upper arms. ‘Carla Hunter and
Sam, know that from this day on you are welcome at Stenhaus as members of the Stenmark family.’

‘Oh, Papa.’ Greta, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears, rushed to her father’s side and kissed his cheek. ‘What a wise and good decision.’

‘I’m…
Overwhelmed.’
For a moment or two Carla couldn’t speak or swallow the lump that lodged in her throat. Her father would have been so pleased and Angie’s jaw would drop with amazement when she was told. She glanced towards Luke, who grinned at her, then at Greta and her husband and, lastly, her gaze returned to her grandfather. Two sets of blue eyes meshed. ‘It’s been a long time coming,’ her eyes twinkled with a mixture of cheekiness and feelings she no longer had to hide, ‘but worth the wait, Grandfather. Thank you.’ The next instant she was enveloped in a bearish hug and in Continental fashion, kissed on both cheeks.

‘You and I have a lot to talk about, Granddaughter, but not now. Now it is time for a celebratory dinner. Come to the table. You will sit on my right, with Sam next to you,’ Carl ordered, his own voice gruff with suppressed emotion.

Luke’s expression, watching what was unfolding, couldn’t have been more delighted. His grandfather had come round, and given his stubborn streak and the type of man he was, that was a miracle of no small proportions. He’d been told that his mother had given his grandfather Rolfe’s journal to read and that it had had an
enlightening effect and, albeit thirty years too late, made Carl realise he had acted hastily. The past could not be changed but he could tell by the old man’s expression, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at Carla and Sam, that he would do his best to make amends for the injustice wrought upon his second son. And so it was indeed a momentous day at Stenhaus and, now that Carla was, literally, returned to the fold, he could set in motion his own actions, something he wanted to succeed in with all his heart, to explore a deeper relationship with Carla. When that happened, what a formidable team they would make in the Barossa—his experience in the winemaking business and her passion and outgoing personality.

As everyone sat in their allotted seats Carl noticed one seat was not occupied. ‘Where is Lisel?’

‘Sulking in her room,’ Greta vouched what she thought to be the truth, ‘because I told her that Carla and Sam were coming to dinner.’

Carl’s happy expression sobered and his eyes hardened. ‘Is she sick?’ He watched Greta shake her head after which he turned his gaze towards his grandson. ‘Luke, go and get her. Lisel is part of the family and she will eat with the family.’

‘Grandfather, dinner might be more pleasant without Lisel’s presence,’ Luke offered what they all knew to be fact.

Carl would not be moved. ‘Go fetch her.’ And as Luke walked towards the doorway which led
to the hall, he added. ‘Lisel forgets whose house she lives in. While she resides here she will abide by my rules or…’ While he left the sentence unfinished everyone at the table knew how he’d intended to finish it. Dismissing the problem of his difficult daughter, he turned his attention to Sam. ‘Tell me, Sam,’ he said, his voice gentle, ‘how’s the rugby going?’

‘My team’s running in first place, sir,’ Sam offered the information freely, grinning at the older man.

‘Good.’ The head of the house turned his gaze on Greta. ‘I’m sure we’re all hungry. We won’t wait for Luke and Lisel. Have Margit serve the soup, will you, please Greta.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

Everyone was halfway through the first course by the time Luke returned with a reluctant, sullen-faced Lisel. She refused to touch the soup after she sat in her chair and stared alternately at Carla, her father and various set pieces on the table, without joining in the conversation. Haughty, she exuded an image of sophistication in a black woollen dress with a cowl neckline, the frock’s severity softened by several rows of cultured pearls around her neck.

Invariably, at Stenhaus dinner time, the conversation turned to the vines and winemaking.

‘Tell me, Carla, with the misfortune of last year’s vintage, can you continue working the vineyard?’ John asked the question so many people in the Valley wanted to know the answer to.

‘I believe so.’ Her reply was quick and honest. ‘Some insurance money will be coming our way, and I’ve had an offer for someone to come into the vineyard as a silent partner. However, I’d prefer to extend my loan, providing the bank agrees.’

‘I think the bank will be agreeable,’ Carl said quietly, a mysterious twinkle in his eyes. ‘In the past I confess to being your staunchest critic but I respect what you’ve accomplished in such a short time. You and your winemaker deserve the chance to succeed.’

The expression on Carla’s face showed her astonishment at her grandfather making such an admission. ‘We will succeed,’ she replied, steely determination in her tone.

After her father had spoken Lisel’s knife and fork dropped with a clatter as she threw the implements onto her plate. ‘Papa, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What’s going on? What’s changed? In the past everyone here,’ her dark gaze roamed from one family member to another, ‘has been united in wanting to get rid of her. Now everyone is welcoming her with open arms.’ She made a tut-tutting sound with her tongue. ‘All of you make me sick.’

‘Lisel, you don’t understand. We know things we didn’t know before,’ Greta tried to explain.

‘What rot! You’ve allowed yourselves to be seduced by her resemblance to Mutter.’ She pointed an accusing finger at her niece. ‘Can’t you see what she’s doing? Worming herself into the
family to better herself. It’s Rhein Schloss’s money and Stenmark prestige—that’s what she’s after.’

Incensed by the venom in Lisel’s tone, as well as her vindictive expression, Carla retorted, ‘That’s not true.’ She put a protective arm around her son’s shoulders as if to shield him from Lisel’s belligerence. ‘There’s only one thing I’ve ever wanted from the Stenmark family—the chance to be part of a caring family and to give Sam some relatives he could grow up knowing.’

Lisel sneered at Carla. ‘You might fool everyone here with that little speech,’ she stared pointedly in her father’s direction, ‘but I’ll not be taken in by it.’

‘You don’t know me, Aunt Lisel, so don’t assassinate my character,’ Carla responded. ‘You’ve never given me a chance.’

‘That’s right, and I won’t.’ Frustrated because she was unsupported by the family, Lisel’s angry gaze moved off Carla and settled on Luke. ‘And you, my dear nephew, will be the biggest loser.’

‘Lisel, that’s enough.’ Carl rumbled at his youngest child, banging his fist on the table to emphasise his words. ‘I will not have such disgraceful behaviour at my dinner table. The past is past,’ his tone was forceful yet it held a note of regret, ‘and cannot be changed. I have decided to welcome Carla and Sam into our family and whether you approve or not you must accept the situation.’

Lisel stood, scraping her chair on the tiled floor. She tossed her head in defiance of his
decree. ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before I do that.’

Luke watched his aunt stride towards the doorway; her back ramrod straight. He had seen Lisel’s displays of temper before but they’d never been as severe as this, nor had they ever been directed so openly at his grandfather. The depth of fury in her eyes, the state of her emotions and her unfettered hatred for Carla were more of a concern to him than her implication that he would suffer financially. Something peculiar was happening to his aunt, and he could no longer deny it. He knew, through stories his mother had told him, that she had been spoilt as a child, indulged, and that she reacted badly, often nastily when things didn’t go her way as was happening tonight. Lisel Stenmark had a streak of ruthlessness in her nature and though rarely used it was there and, gauging by the depth of her dislike for Carla, who knew what she might be capable of?

He stole a sidelong glance at his grandfather and had to admire the old man’s determination. Lisel’s display had not moved him one whit from his decision because he had decided to right the wrong done to Rolfe and Carla and Sam. Luke knew that the reversal of his grandfather’s attitude would provide a source of gossip in the Barossa for weeks but it could and would also make a huge difference to Carla. Stenmark approval would open doors she had never dreamed would be opened to her and Angie, taking a certain
weight off her shoulders and allowing her to continue her business. Additionally, he hoped that it was likely that it would make her more amenable towards his own cause. Good! He began to plan their next outing. Perhaps he would introduce her to golf and see if she had an aptitude for it.

Carla tucked a sleepy Sam into bed and smoothed strands of ginger hair off his forehead.

‘’Night, Mum,’ he said, and yawned. His eyelids drooped and closed.

She straightened up, smiling. He had had a wonderful time at Stenhaus tonight, loving being made a fuss of by his great-grandfather, John and Luke. And how amazed he had been when Greta showed them the painting of her mother. Sam had seen Carla’s resemblance to Anna Louise straight away. She closed the door behind her as she left Sam’s room. At last he was getting the family he deserved to have.