Page 51 of Wild Horses

Christy sipped the coffee that Tyler had brought her in bed, listening to the faint traffic noise drifting in from the balcony.

Then she pulled on a robe and, taking her mug, padded barefoot into the kitchen.

She sat at the breakfast bar watching Tyler expertly flip pancakes.

Leo was still sleeping – or FaceTiming with Tiff.

Those two were always on the phone to each other.

‘Good morning, sweetheart.’ Tyler slid a golden-brown stack onto a plate, smothered it with blueberries and maple syrup, and placed it before her. ‘Have you considered my proposal?’

Christy bit her lip, knowing what she was about to say would disappoint him. ‘I can’t let you take over the payments on the hall, Ty.’ She set her mug down with a gentle clink. ‘It’s my mess, and it’s my job to fix it.’

He plated up another batch of pancakes for himself. ‘But I’m the reason you’re in this mess in the first place. If I hadn’t withdrawn my offer to buy the hall—’

‘Nobody put a gun to my head,’ she said as she took a seat at the breakfast bay. ‘I took out that loan willingly, and frankly, I’m glad I did. Otherwise the hall might have been bulldozed by now.’

‘Yes, you saved it, which is wonderful, but this isn’t just your battle.

’ He came to sit beside her. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint scent of rosemary and thyme that always seemed to linger on his skin.

‘Independence isn’t about refusing help, Christy.

It’s about knowing that you can handle things if you need to, and you’ve already proved that.

’ His hand reached out to stroke her cheek, a touch so tender it threatened to undo her.

‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘But no.’

Tyler groaned. ‘Why are you so stubborn?’ There was no accusation in his voice, just genuine puzzlement.

‘It’s not stubbornness. It’s simply taking care of my responsibilities.

I’m looking into refinancing, although with the increased salary package from St Luke’s I should be able to clear the loan in a bit over five years anyway.

’ She could see the ledger in her mind, the numbers tumbling towards financial freedom.

‘Five years in Sydney?’ he echoed. ‘That sounds like forever. I’ll be imagining that Andrew Kensington character all over you.’

She grinned. ‘I hadn’t pegged you for the jealous type.’

‘Well, you had me pegged wrong.’ Tyler swept her up in a toe-curling kiss. When he finally released her, his hand found hers. ‘Long-distance won’t be easy.’

‘No,’ she said, a little too brightly, ‘but we’ll make it work. Weekends together, video calls, whatever it takes.’

Her forced cheer didn’t seem to work on him. ‘Currawong Creek for Leo, Sydney for you ...’ His voice trailed off. ‘Loneliness will eat me alive.’

‘Oh, my poor darling!’ She squeezed his hand. ‘We have today, Tyler. Let’s not drown in tomorrows just yet.’

A grinning Leo wandered in with his head buried in his phone.

‘Watch where you’re going,’ warned Tyler, as his son nearly tripped over the vacuum cleaner.

‘Look at this.’ He showed his dad the screen. ‘Clare’s helping me FaceTime with Lofty.’

Days passed and still no verdict. Tyler neglected his work, spending almost no time at Providence. Instead, he stayed with Leo and Christy – truly present in a way that made her heart sing, even as it ached at the thought of their looming separation.

Leo and his father got on remarkably well, each making allowances for the other when needed. The single time that Leo’s temper flared was one evening when he was asking questions about his mother. ‘Did she like animals? What about horses?’

Tyler, staying true to his newfound spirit of honesty, admitted Grace had been an expert equestrienne, blessed with a natural passion and talent. ‘She wanted you to have the opportunity too, and even back then you loved going to the stables with her.’

As Tyler talked Leo grew more and more outraged. ‘Are you telling me Mum was a contender for the Olympic team?’ and ‘You mean I had a pony and you sold it!’

Tyler handled Leo’s anger with grace and humility. ‘I was wrong,’ he admitted. ‘It hurt too much to think of your mum and her hopes for you. It was incredibly selfish, and I have no excuse.’

It took two days before Leo would speak to his father again, but after that he couldn’t stop asking questions about his mother and her love of horses.

They did the type of tourist things that locals almost never did in their own home towns.

The three of them took a guided Story Bridge climb for jaw-dropping panoramas of the city.

On the last leg Leo abseiled thirty metres straight down the pylon for an even more adventurous day.

They took a lunchtime cruise down the Brisbane River.

They joined a surprisingly scary cemetery ghost tour and took a perfume-making masterclass at Libertine Parfumerie.

They kayaked around sunken ships at Moreton Island and joined a Quandamooka Coast daytrip to learn about the Indigenous caretakers of the stunning region.

Tyler was determined to give Leo the sense of family he’d been so desperately missing.

He took Leo to meet his maternal grandparents – an emotional reunion, that one.

They hadn’t seen him since he was five years old.

He also wanted him to meet Juliana Fontana, his godmother and Grace’s friend.

Tyler told Christy that the two of them had clicked right away, talking horses all afternoon, and they’d already arranged another meeting.

In the spirit of this newfound appreciation for family, Christy took Tyler to meet her parents. Her mother, Gwen, a big fan of Tyler’s cooking show, was hovering by the front gate when they arrived.

‘I’m very glad to make your acquaintance,’ said Tyler, kissing her hand.

Christy smiled to see her mother giggling like a girl.

As they reached the door, it swung open to reveal her father, Alan, his face lighting up to see them. ‘Christy, Tyler! Come in, come in.’

The house smelled of freshly brewed coffee and baking, a familiar and comforting scent. Gwen ducked into the kitchen and emerged with a magnificent red velvet cake on a stand. ‘Alan, will you serve the coffee?’

Gwen proudly deposited her masterpiece in the centre of the table.

Its three layers were perfectly even, its deep crimson colour contrasting beautifully with its glossy white frosting.

Delicate cream cheese rosettes crowned the top, interspersed with plump raspberries.

A light dusting of icing sugar and scattered fresh mint leaves completed the elegant look.

Gwen cut generous slices and placed them on her best china plates, as Alan poured the coffee. She appeared to be holding her breath while Tyler took a bite. He savoured it for a few moments then smiled. ‘This is truly delicious, Gwen. Christy has bragged about your baking and now I can see why.’

Gwen beamed. ‘Well, I do my best.’

Alan chuckled. ‘Gwen’s more excited about your visit, Tyler, than she is about her daughter’s!’

Christy laughed, relaxing into the moment.

Tyler’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. ‘Excuse me, would you?’ He stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Christy’s pulse quickened. A few seconds later Tyler returned, his expression serious. ‘That was Detective Sergeant Hunter. The jury’s reached a verdict. We need to get to the courthouse.’

They wended their way through the press pack outside the court.

Every reporter shouted questions, and it was like escaping a storm when they finally reached the door.

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation as the jury filed back in.

The polished wooden benches were filled with reporters and interested spectators.

The judge, imposing in his black robes, presided over the room with an air of solemn authority.

Christy, Tyler and Leo sat together. Christy’s hand tightly gripped Tyler’s as the foreman of the jury rose to speak.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching out into an eternity.

The room fell into an almost eerie silence.

Every rustle of paper, every creak of the timber floor, seemed amplified in the hush.

‘Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict?’ the judge intoned, his voice resonating in the quiet space.

Christy glanced at Tyler, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the jury box.

The foreman, a frowning middle-aged man, said, ‘We have, Your Honour.’

The bailiff asked, ‘In the case of the Crown versus Richard Callan, what is your verdict on the first charge?’

The foreman unfolded a piece of paper, his hands seeming a little unsteady. ‘On the charge of murder in the second degree of Grace Helen Ward, we find the defendant guilty.’

Leo let out a cheer and a murmur rippled through the courtroom. Christy felt Tyler sag with relief beside her.

‘Order, order!’ cried the judge.

The foreman continued, ‘On the charge of murder in the first degree of Enzo George Fontana, we find the defendant guilty.’

And so it went until Ricky Callan was pronounced guilty on every charge the Crown had brought against him. Christy could see Grace’s parents across the aisle, tears streaming down their faces. Leo went over to talk to them. Enzo’s family were standing in the aisles, hugging each other.

The judge banged his gavel, again calling for order. He addressed the jury. ‘You are now discharged from your duty as jurors in this matter. I thank you for your attention to the case and your service to the court. Sentencing will be scheduled for a later date.’

Christy’s gaze shifted to Ricky Callan, who was being led away in handcuffs. The look of venom on his face had been replaced with one of resignation. She turned to Tyler. He looked like a man released from a great burden, a man who’d finally found closure.