Free The Bridesmaid's Baby Bump by Kandy Shepherd Page B

now—of her voice getting wobbly. ‘No easy answer. How about massive years-long drought ruins everything?’ She took in another deep breath. ‘It’s actually difficult to make light of such disaster.’
    ‘I can see that,’ he said.
    She wished he’d say there was no need to go on, but he didn’t.
    ‘Have you ever seen those images of previously lush green pastures baked brown and hard and cracked? Where farmers have to shoot their stock because there’s no water, no feed? Shoot sheep that have not only been bred on your land so you care about their welfare, but also represent income and investment and your family’s daily existence?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve seen the pictures. Read the stories. It’s terrible.’
    ‘That was my family’s story. Thankfully my father didn’t lose his land or his life, like others did, before the rains eventually came. But he changed. Became harsher. Less forgiving. Impossible to live with. He took it out on my mother. And nothing I could do was right.’
    Jake’s head was tilted in what seemed like real interest. ‘In what way?’
    ‘Even at the best of times life in the country tends to be more traditional. Men are outdoors, doing the hard yakka—do you have that expression for hard work in Queensland?’
    ‘Of course,’ he said.
    ‘Men are outside and women inside, doing the household chores to support the men. In physical terms it makes a lot of sense. And a lot of country folk like it just the way it’s always been.’
    ‘But you didn’t?’
    ‘No. School was where I excelled—maths and legal studies were my forte. My domestic skills weren’t highly developed. I just wasn’t that interested. And I wasn’t great at farm work either, though I tried.’ She flexed her right arm so her bicep showed, defined and firm. ‘I’m strong, but not anywhere near as strong as my brothers. In my father’s eyes I was useless. He wouldn’t even let me help with the accounts; that was not my business. In a time of drought I was another mouth to feed and I didn’t pull my weight.’
    She could see she’d shocked Jake.
    ‘Surely your father wouldn’t really have thought that?’ he said.
    She remembered he’d grown up without a father.
    ‘I wanted to be a lawyer. My father thought lawyers were a waste of space. My education was a drain on the farm. Looking back, I can see now how desperate he must have been. If he’d tried to communicate with me I might have understood. But he just walked all over me—as usual.’
    ‘Seems like I’ve got you to open a can of worms. I’m sorry.’
    She shrugged. ‘You might as well hear the end of it. I was at boarding school. One day when I was seventeen I was called to the principal’s office to find my father there to take me home so I could help my mother. For good. It was my final year of high school. I wasn’t to be allowed to sit my end-of-school exams.’
    Jake frowned. ‘You’re right—your dad must have been desperate. If there was no money to feed stock, school fees would have been out of the question.’
    ‘For me . Not for my younger brother. My father found the fees for him .’ She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. ‘A boy who was never happier than when he was goofing off.’
    ‘So the country girl went home? Is that how the story ended?’
    She shook her head. ‘Thankfully, no. I was a straight-A student—the school captain.’
    ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ said Jake wryly.
    ‘The school got behind me. There was a scholarship fund. My family were able to plead hardship. I got to sit my final exams.’
    ‘And blitzed them, no doubt?’
    ‘Top of the state in three out of five subjects.’
    ‘Your father must have been proud of you then.’
    ‘If he was, he never said so. I’d humiliated him with the scholarship, and by refusing to go home with him.’
    ‘Hardly a humiliation. Half of the eastern states were in one of the most severe droughts in Australia’s history. Even I knew that