Page 5 of Bulls and Their Boy
Ella stiffened. “Fiancée? But that wasn’t Prue Preston.”
“No, Prue and I finished months ago, remember?”
“I’m sorry. I should have called first. I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone—and engaged again so soon. Wow. You don’t mess around, do you?”
Mitch wasn’t about to elaborate, but he wanted to nip her interest in the bud. “We’ve been keeping it under wraps. How can I help?”
Ella narrowed her eyes. He could tell she was itching to ask more, but instead said, “I’m after some advice. I’d like to try mandarins on a block we’ve just purchased. I was hoping you could help me with the organics side. But first, I could murder a coffee. Shall we go upstairs?”
He hesitated. Spending time with Ella anywhere seemed a bad idea. But in the loft? “Sure. Come on up.”
She followed him to the bottom of the stairs. “Or a glass of red would be even better.”
Mitch stood on the balcony, a strong cup of coffee warming his hands. Autumn was his favorite time of year—when the memory of summer faded, and the days were clear and calm. Winter was the main season for citrus, but the mandarins and limes started earlier, meaning there’d be pickers everywhere soon. Oranges and grapefruit followed, and the thought of the upcoming season excited him.
His gaze moved to the Whitman homestead, his thoughts on Tayla and their practice kiss. The best kiss he’d had in a long while. What would the next few months bring between him and his timid, yet often fierce, bride-to-be?
Harmony? Chaos?
Hearing his phone ding, he strolled inside to check it.
Luka:What’s up? Keen to watch the game?
Mitch:Why not? Beats floating up shit creek without a paddle.
Luka:Great. I’ll be there soon with a paddle and some beers.
Luka arrived half an hour later. He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the sofa. Mitch grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry and chucked it to him.
“Thanks, mate.” Luka opened the bag and helped himself to a handful. “What’s happening up shit creek?”
“A lot. I want to show you something before the rugby starts.”
Luka checked his watch. “Don’t ask me to move from this couch. I’ve had a busy day.”
“As if. And stay where you are.” Mitch picked up the carved wooden box on the coffee table and opened the lid. He took out the top envelope and handed it to Luka.
“What’s this?” Luka asked, sitting up straighter.
Mitch took a seat in the chair opposite; Edward settled at his feet. “The last letter Norman ever wrote me. My grandfather was quite the letter-writer in his time. Take a look.”
Luka removed the fragile paper from the envelope and unfolded it. As he scanned the page, he frowned, then read aloud:
“Dear Mitchel,
If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m gone. I apologize for the type. I prefer to write in real ink, as I believe it adds a romance to the script that aballpoint or typewriter cannot. Sadly, my penmanship is not what it used to be, so I’m sitting at my old Olivetti. At least this way, you’ll understand my intention.
We’ve had our struggles over the years. I know you resented me for my treatment of your mother, and for that, I apologize profusely. I let my pride stand in the way of acceptance. It’s one regret of many, but losing my wife and son left such a gaping void, I lost myself as well.
I’ve met a girl who’s stolen my heart. You will know who I mean. With her unique style and poise, she isn’t easy to ignore. And while I have never so much as looked at another woman since your grandmother passed, this one is different. She takes my soul by her gentlehands,gives it a tug and brings it back to life.
She visits me often. We laugh, and sometimes we cry while watching sad movies. She bakes for me and reads in the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. Lying in bed, listening to her narrate the words of Steinbeck brings a lump to my throat.
Still, we’re from different times, and my love for her is purely platonic. I have attached a page to my will. Please honorit. I want her to finish her education without having to worry about money. As for my other stipulations, you may find them controlling, but I have my reasons.
What was once mine is now yours. Make the most of it. Leave the rat race behind and tend the land. Build a wonderful home, fill it with kids and laughter - surf, eat beautiful food, find a balance. And know this: Whatever you decide to do, if you’re happy and proud of your achievements, you have my blessing.
Some men are oat sowers, and some aren’t. You have many oats to sow, but when you’re finished with the bountiful harvest your good looks and charm provide, look to the girl next door. If we lived in a society where elders chose life partners for their offspring, she would be my choice for you.
