Page 61 of Third Time’s a Charm

It turns out the Herbig Tree is just that. An old, hollowed-out tree. Although it’s still alive. The inside is blackened from cooking fires. And there are frames with pictures of Friedrich Herbig and his wife and their sixteen children. Yes, sixteen. Although, fortunately for Mrs Herbig, only a couple were born while they were living in the tree.

“Friedrich must have been some wooer to get Caroline to agree to live in a tree,” Louise quips as we study the pictures of the family.

“I hope David the Douche doesn’t think he can shack you up in a tree if you move to South Australia,” I grumble, without any real annoyance. I don’t doubt the intensity of what is growing between Louise and me. David has no hope.

“Haha. His woo game is not that good. Now stand over there so I can take a picture of you. You’re not going to want to forget an experience like this,” Louise assures me.

The idea that I’ll forget any moments spent with Louise is, frankly, ludicrous. But I keep that to myself. Once all the shit with Cellar Road is settled, and I’m sure I’ve protected her, I’ll be able to tell her.

She points her phone at me, but before she has time to compose a shot, I reach out and drag her against my chest, wrapping an arm around her waist and stealing her phone. We’re both laughing as I kiss the side of her face and snap a selfie.

Something profound has shifted in me over the past couple of days. The joy I felt on my first visit to Australia is back. Right now, if I were to be sent here permanently, well, that doesn’t seem like the worst fate in the world.

Especially if it means I’m doing life with Louise.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jasper

The last leg of our trip hurtles us towards a reckoning I’m not sure I’m ready to face. There’s still no word from Tate, and it’s been nearly a week.

Edward has been uncharacteristically unsuccessful in finding anything that puts my mind at rest. And we’ve not been able to come up with a feasible Plan B.

At this point, it’s still a toss-up as to whether Tate is avoiding me or is up to something he shouldn’t be with his latest girlfriend. Wouldn’t be the first time, unlikely to be the last. But that doesn’t prevent the sick dread lying in the bottom of my belly.

The only thing keeping me from imploding is the joy of being with Louise, which distracts me enough to keep me from tearing out my hair. Something will come to me.

It has to.

After leaving the Barossa, we stop at Mildura, then Griffith, each winery and region impressive in its own way.

Our last night on the road is spent in a little town called Young, which sports an improbably giant cherry monument. This is apparently a thing in Australia. ‘Big’ things as tourist attractions. They even have a Spotto book for them. The Big Merino. The Big Potato. The Big Banana. Now that’s one I need to see. The whole idea is bizarre, but at the same time, kind of charming.

As with most of the other towns we’ve visited, Young also has wide streets, dotted with old gold-rush era pubs, stone churches and local arts and crafts stores.

Louise and I need to talk about what happens when we’re back in Sydney, but right now I’m enjoying the last precious hours of our time alone.

Regardless of whether I’ve heard from Tate, I’ll explain the situation when we arrive in Sydney, NDA be damned.

Until then, I’m soaking in the giant bathtub of denial and hormones I’ve run for myself.

Tonight we’re booked into a guest cottage on a farm a short drive out of town. We’ve maintained the two-room policy so the development of our relationship has stayed off the office radar, but this is a two-bedroom cabin, something like the one on Grahame’s farm. I wish we could stay a few more nights. It’s quiet and peaceful, and the bed—which we’ve just put to good use—is beyond comfortable.

“I have a question,” Louise says out of nowhere as we doze in comfortable silence. “The day you arrived. Why did you walk out of my presentation before I’d finished?”

I laugh. “Has that been burning a hole in your psyche all this time?”

“Maybe …”

“It’s a bit embarrassing, actually. I ate something that upset my stomach in Singapore airport on the flight over. I had to get out of there, fast, or I was going to disgrace myself.”

She does laugh. “At least then we would’ve been even.”

“Not with Mackelden looking on, we wouldn’t.” I shudder at the thought of what would have happened had I stayed in the room even a couple more minutes.

“Good point. Another question.” Louise hesitates before asking, “How long do we have?” She shifts closer and tucks the doona close against her back. The evenings are really cold now, and I’ve discovered she doesn’t like drafts in bed.

“What do you mean?” I stall, knowing full well what she’s referring to.