A Place Called Home

“And he’ll be good company for you,” Ellie added.

“That, too,” he admitted. “To be honest, I haven’t felt like having company for a very long time.”

Ellie seized her opening. “I know exactly how you feel, Dad. But maybe it’s time to look back and move on. That’s what I’m trying to do, at last. That’s why I’m here. And your friend, Jake, seems to have managed to come to terms with his past.”

“I guess meeting him is what got me thinking. He’s been through some bad times, too, but now he’s got his training and breeding business up and running, and he’s getting married again. He’s even gone into partnership with his dad, converting some barns.”

“Perhaps I should stay around for a while,” Ellie suggested on impulse. “Help you get things in the house straight again.”

Her idea met a blank wall of silence.

“Dog needs some exercise,” her dad eventually muttered, turning abruptly away.

Ellie’s heart fell as she watched his slightly stooped figure walk off, closely followed by the dog. Then he paused, looking back.

“Come and see my new ewes if you like,” he said. “They’re in the fell meadow.”

As they headed, side by side, toward the imposing mass of the Lakeland Hills, the pup raced ahead, glancing back every now and then to make sure his master was following. Ellie studied his black face with its white stripe between two of the friendliest brown eyes she had ever seen. He appeared to be smiling, Ellie thought, her head already whirling with ideas for a new painting.

The black-headed ewes were as nervous as wild deer, rushing to the corner of the paddock when they saw the dog. Shadow slunk down, belly on the ground, his eyes firmly fixed on the sheep.

Now that would make a great painting—the keen expression on the young dog’s face and the startled eyes of the cautious sheep.

“You’ve started training him already, I see,” she exclaimed.

Her dad shook his head. “No, that’s just natural. It seems to be bred into him to know how quiet you have to be with these Fell sheep. They’re as wild as the hills. I’ve had to put wire all around the tops of the walls to keep them in.”

With a low whistle to Shadow, he turned back toward the stable yard, beckoning her.

“You haven’t met Dennis yet.”

CHAPTER FIVE

GRAND DESIGN WAS probably the most beautiful horse Ellie had ever seen. Not as noble as Blue, who would always hold a very special place in her heart, but classically perfect in his conformation. His gleaming, rich bay coat rippled beneath her fingers as she stroked his arched neck. She reached up to trace the outline of the large white star in the middle of his broad forehead. He tossed his head, moving to nip her arm, and she drew back.

“You’ve been spoiled by Blue, I’m afraid,” her dad said, smiling. “Not many stallions are as friendly as him. Dennis is a different ball game altogether. He’s pure Thoroughbred, for a start, and they’re often a bit feisty. You have to treat him with respect—if you don’t want to get bitten, that is. Fortunately, though, he’s very gentle with his mares.”

Ellie took hold of the stallion’s nose as she rubbed the backs of his ears, determined not to be daunted by his behavior.

“You know, I’ve already had two brilliant ideas for paintings since I’ve been home,” she said reflectively. “Shadow with the sheep, and the arrogant expression on Dennis’s face just now. I think maybe I could get lots of new ideas around here,”

“Best get some sketches done, then. Is that how it works?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Or I just paint from memory. I thought I might do a painting of Blue for you, too. Not in my usual style, but more of a classic painting. I might take some pictures of him before I go, so that I can really get his likeness.”

“Your mother would have liked that,” he said.

Were those tears in his eyes? Ellie had never seen her dad cry, not even at the funeral. Anger had driven him then. Now, though, he seemed different—softer and more approachable. Perhaps he saw in her something of her mother. She liked that idea.

“So you don’t mind if I stay over?” she asked tentatively.

“Plenty of room,” he muttered. “Bedding will want airing, though.”

Ellie felt a warm wave of happiness wash over her. Her timing had been right; she was home at last.

* * *

AFTER A FEW HOURS of cleaning up the house, Ellie felt totally drained, having relived a million memories both happy and sad. Her dad had kept himself busy in the yard all afternoon. He came back into the house around supper time, preceded by Shadow, who burst into the kitchen and rolled onto his back for her to scratch his belly, legs raised ecstatically.

“Daft as a brush,” declared her dad.

“Can we take those pictures of Dennis and Blue after supper?” she asked. “It’s such a lovey evening, and I’d like to start on them as soon as I get back.”

“You’re going in the morning, then?”

Was that disappointment she could hear in his voice?

“I could stay until after lunch, I guess.”

“Please yourself,” he said.

Ellie felt a glow of happiness. Her dad could try to pretend he didn’t care, but his disappointment at her leaving the next day was obvious.

“I’ll be back soon, though,” she told him. “If you’ll have me.”

His silence spoke volumes.

* * *

AS ELLIE STARTED her car the next afternoon, to go back to her city life, she felt an acute sense of loss. She had been at Hope Farm for just one night, but already it felt like home again. Her dad was over by Blue’s stable, pretending not to care, but last night they had talked about her mum, finally, and about the stud and Bob’s hopes for the future. The two of them both had a long way to go, she was well aware of that, but at least they were getting back on track.

On impulse, Ellie switched off the engine and ran across the yard to give her dad a hug. He stood stock-still, awkwardly accepting her embrace.

“You’ll be back before too long, lass?”

“Yes...” The flicker of an idea formed inside her head. “I’ll be back before you know it, and I’ll stay for a few days, if you like.” She didn’t miss the indecision on his face, but she knew how to convince him. “I’ll finish the painting of Blue first and bring it with me.”

He nodded, returning her smile.

“I’ll look forward to seeing that,” he said. Ellie got back in her car and set off for Manchester. Her phone rang just as she hit the highway. She glanced at it and declined the call. Now wasn’t the right time to talk to Matt; she had way too much going on inside her head.

Her phone rang again as she opened the door to her apartment, and she heard a ping telling her she had a new message. Dumping her bags onto the floor, she listened to what he had to say.

“Hi, Ellie, are you back yet? We need to talk...about us. Call me when you get this.”

She stared at the phone. What was there to say? Plenty, she realized. They needed to figure out where their relationship was going, for a start—if anywhere. Perhaps it was just a convenient arrangement for both of them, nothing more meaningful.

Ellie had driven back in a euphoric cloud, a sense of well-being in her veins, but now she felt strangely empty and a little lost.

Everything she’d thought she wanted, her relationship with Matt, her job, her life in the city, seemed somehow less appealing. A vague longing lodged itself in her chest. A longing for what, though? she asked herself. What did she want? The longing to paint remained, to lose herself in her work, but what about Matt... What about love?

An image of Andy slipped past her barriers, and her chest tightened. He had seemed so genuine when he looked in through her car window at Cravendale, begging for her to stay in touch. His scent still lingered in her nostrils, as if he was here in the room with her, and the outlines of his face were so firmly etched in her brain that she could paint his likeness with her eyes closed. Was that what she should do? Would painting his image expel him from her psyche and heal those old wounds?

No, she decided, for then he would be forever staring at her...unless she just put the painting away in a cupboard somewhere. But what would be the point of that?

Determinedly pushing Andy to the back of her mind, she picked up her phone and dialed Matt.

“We need to talk,” he repeated when he picked up. His voice sounded distant and serious. “Meet me tonight, at Applejacks. I’ll pick you up, if you like.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you there about seven. Is everything all right, Matt?”

For a moment she thought he’d hung up, but then his deep voice cut through the silence. “You tell me. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

THE SUN WAS still shining when Ellie set off to walk to Applejacks, and as she strode purposefully along the sidewalk she couldn’t help thinking about the first time she met Matt there. It felt now as if they were two different people, and it hadn’t even been all that long ago. Perhaps they should have just gone for a walk down by the river instead, stayed out in the evening sun. It seemed a shame to miss it. Then again, Matt didn’t really do walks.

She saw him right away, sitting in a secluded corner and staring into his lager. He glanced around and caught her gaze, then stood up to greet her. He was so handsome and striking, she thought, with his sleek dark hair, designer clothes and clear, silvery gray eyes. So why wasn’t her heart racing as it used to?

“Did you sort out your deal?” she asked, sitting down.

He shrugged, handing her a glass of white wine. “Almost. Have a good time in the country?”

Her eyes lit up. “It was great to see my dad. We actually talked for the first time in years. I’m going back soon, to stay for a few days this time. He keeps the yard spotless, but the house is a mess. How’ve you been, anyway?”

“So-so...”

“You said you wanted to talk.” She took a sip of her wine before twirling the glass by its stem, watching the clear liquid swirl around and around.

Matt reached out to still her fingers, covering her hand with his.

“We’re both grown adults, Ellie, and we need to talk because as far as I can see, we’re going nowhere.”

She looked up at him, meeting disappointment in his eyes.

“Do you love me, Matt?” she asked on impulse.

His hand dropped away.

“Do you love me is perhaps more to the point.”

“I thought I did...”

“Until when, Ellie? What changed?”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know. It’s just—”

“That we both seem to want different things,” he finished for her.

“And what do you want of me?” she asked.

His voice was full of passion. “I want you to be the same person I thought I met,” he said. “The person I got engaged to.”

“But I am that same person.”

“No, you’re not. You were fun loving and up for anything when I met you.” He drained his glass. “Now all you seem to want to do is paint...and go off for days in the country to get new material. When is the last time we went to a club, for instance? We used to go out all the time. And now you’re talking about going back home to sort your dad’s farm out. You never bothered before, so why now?”

“Maybe I’ve just grown up, Matt. Maybe I’ve realized there’s more to life than clubbing.”

He reached forward, taking hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His touch was gentle. “The answer to your question is yes. I suppose I’ll always love you, Ellie, in a way, but it’s not enough anymore. We’re not on the same page.”

“And I still really care about you, but I feel that way, too,” she admitted.

He smiled, and Ellie thought she saw relief in his expression.

“Then I think we should have a break for a while, a total break, so that we can both decide where we are. You can go and do your country thing and I’ll meet up with some of my old friends again...catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

In a sudden flutter of panic, Ellie reached out to take hold of his hand, clutching it tightly in both of hers.

“Are you trying to tell me that we’re over?”

“I suppose I am... Is that a problem?”

Ellie shook her head slowly, staring at the man she had once intended to spend the rest of her life with. The panic faded and she withdrew her hands. “You may as well have this back then,” she said quietly, sliding off her diamond ring.

“No!” His objection was immediate, from the heart. “I never said I wanted the ring back.”

“What do you want then, Matt?”

“I told you... A proper break.”

“We’re over, Matt. I think we both know that.”

Taking the ring, he pressed it against her palm, closing his fingers around her hand.

“Don’t wear it, then. Just keep it for a while, say a couple of weeks or so. And then we’ll meet up again. If you’ve got this country thing out of your system...”

“Country thing!” Her voice was cold, her hands shaking. “I was born in the country, Matt.”

“Yes, and you hated it. That’s why you moved to the city.”

“No, I never hated the country. I just couldn’t stand the memories it held for me.”

“Exactly,” he declared. “And now you’ve changed. I loved the crazy girl I met, you see, but it feels as if she’s gone.”

“I’m still me, Matt. Aren’t you supposed to love me for myself?”

“And I’m still me. I’ve never made a secret of who I am.”

“So you’re saying that I have?”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “No,” he responded. “Of course not—well, not intentionally, anyway.”

Ellie stood up, reaching for her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“I guess it’s goodbye, then.”

An acute sense of loss dragged through her chest as she kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed her arm, pulling her down to press his lips fiercely against hers.

“For now,” he murmured, releasing her. “Ring me when you’re ready.”

As she walked out of the bar, into the golden light of the late evening sun, Ellie’s sense of loss was replaced with a glimmer of excitement. She would never be ready to get back with Matt, she knew that now. There was so much to think about, so many memories still to relive. So many pictures to paint...beginning with Blue’s.

CHAPTER SIX

ELLIE NOSED HER car along the street, looking for a parking place. An angry driver honked his horn and she threw him a smile, mouthing sorry as she carefully maneuvered into a tiny space, holding up the traffic.

For over a week, apart from the nights when she worked at Dominoes, Ellie had spent most of her time painting, totally inspired by her new ideas and material. Her image of Into the Blue—no horse with the majesty he displayed in her painting could ever be thought of as just Blue—was probably the most satisfying work she had ever completed. He stared out from the canvas with real expression in his eyes, exuding presence. She couldn’t wait to show it to her dad.

Mel was waiting impatiently when Ellie staggered through the huge front door of the gallery, clutching two paintings.

“I’ve got an appointment at three,” Mel said, looking pointedly at her watch.

Ellie placed the paintings carefully against the wall.

“Sorry, the traffic was awful and I couldn’t find a parking place close enough to carry them all in at once. I’ll go back for the other one in a minute.”

“Well, let me see the ones you’ve brought.”

Mel Morton was revered as an art critic and gallery owner, and Ellie was well aware that being given some space in one of her exhibitions, however small, was a huge honor as well as a chance to get her work seen. She believed that the two paintings she’d just brought in, the fox cub on its day of freedom and the one of her dad’s pup, Shadow, working the sheep, were probably the best she had ever done, along with her portrait of Into the Blue.

As the tall, elegant, middle-aged woman lifted them onto the display table, standing back to survey them with a critical eye, Ellie’s nerves jangled.

For several minutes the two women stood side by side in silence, absorbing the emotion displayed before them: the young fox’s look of fury combined with vulnerability, the dog’s keen expression and the apprehension of the sheep.

“I’d like to exhibit them if I can,” said Ellie. “But they’re not for sale right now.”

“They’d make a good price,” remarked Mel. “But maybe it would be better not to sell yet—drive up the value. The other paintings you’ve shown me aren’t bad, but they aren’t in the same league as these two. Did you say there was a third?”

Ellie nodded, trying to contain her excitement. “I’ll go and get it.”

When she arrived back at the gallery with her third painting, Mel was still absorbed by the two already on display.

“It’s the emotion,” she exclaimed. “It draws you in. You can feel the fox’s fear behind his snarl and the intelligence on the sheepdog’s face is something else.”

Ellie hesitated in the act of removing the cover from the painting of Into the Blue. “It’s not quite as contemporary a style as these two...more traditional.”

“Well, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Mel said. “Come on, let me see.”

Into the Blue looked magnificent, thought Ellie, staring out across the countryside like a king surveying his kingdom. It was hard to believe that she

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