Coming Home (Williams Siblings) Read online

  COMING HOME

  Ann B. Harrison

  Copyright© December, 2013 Ann B. Harrison

  Edited by Juanita Kees

  Cover art by Valerie Tibbs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Acknowledgement

  Coming Home was inspired by the abundance of historical houses in the Hunter Valley. To make my story come alive I needed to touch bricks and mortar and absorb the history. A friend suggested I visit Tocal Homestead in the Hunter Valley.

  The moment I drove over the crest of the hill and saw Tocal Homestead before me, I knew I'd come home. I spent my first morning roaming the magnificent estate, taking photos and talking to the ladies in the information centre. As I was about to leave, I was introduced to Sandra Earle, the Homestead Coordinator.

  When Sandra found out why I was visiting Tocal, she offered me a behind the scenes guided tour. I can't thank her enough for the invaluable information she gave me for my book.

  I would also like to express my heartfelt gratitude to The CB Alexander Foundation for the great work they do keeping our history alive. You can find out more about Tocal Homestead and its engaging story here. http://www.tocal.com/

  If you find yourself in the Hunter Valley, I recommend a visit to Tocal Homestead, in my mind the most beautiful maintained Australian homes.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter One

  Cade Williams hit the ground hard clutching the ball to his chest. His chin connected with the cropped grass and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The ball was still in his grasp and that was all that mattered. There was no way he was going to let it go so close to the line for the other team to pounce on. He groaned as the cascade of tackling bodies landed on top of him.

  "Try!" The crowd screamed and he bucked under the pressure of the opposing team. When they climbed off giving him the chance to stand up, he surged to his feet.

  "Cade, Cade, Cade," came the roar from the stands.

  He took out his mouthguard and spat blood on the ground before lifting his arms to the crowd, throwing the ball in the air. "Woohoo."

  His team mates surged forward, lifting him up as they chanted his name and slapped him on the back. He relished the attention, his heart pumping with adrenaline as they dropped him to the ground.

  Cade grabbed a water bottle from the drink boy and took a long drink, rinsing his mouth out before squirting the remains over his head. He took a few deep breaths, letting the cool water trickle down his cheeks. He threw the bottle back and ran to join the rest of the team to watch their captain, Matt Boyle attempt to convert the goal.

  With cautious steps, Matt paced back from the ball and looked at the goal posts. Rubbing his hands together, he dipped his head, ran and kicked. Cade kept his eye on the ball and screamed along with the crowd when it sailed between the goal posts.

  "On fire, boys. Only ten minutes to go and you're on a winning streak," yelled their coach. "Go get 'em, Cade. One more try to seal the match." He slapped Cade on the shoulder. "Back him up, boys."

  They lined up in front of the half way line and waited for the opposing team to kick the ball. The referee blew the whistle and the ball soared through the air toward Cade and his team.

  They surged forward. Cade leapt into the air and clutched the ball to his chest. As he fell to the ground, he was tackled with force. He lay still, conserving his energy for the final part of the game and waited until they let him get up. He put the ball under his boot and tapped it back before falling back into line, ready to intercept a pass when it came his way.

  Second tackle, third tackle, they reached the half way line and the crowd screamed its support. The adrenaline raced through his veins, giving him a buzz nothing could take away from him. Cade lived for the sport and the adulation of the crowd. Living the dream buddy, living the dream. Fourth tackle and he was ready, heading to the seventy-five yard line.

  The ball flew through the air toward him and he reached out to take it, holding it tucked against his chest with one hand, the other held out like a battering ram as he focused on the line ahead.

  The crowd screamed his name, spurring him on. Ducking and weaving, Cade powered to the touch line, the need to get the next goal burning in his chest. Hands grabbed at his shirt, slowing him down but he pushed forward. A blur from his right torpedoed towards him but with a final surge of energy, he launched himself across the line to land behind the goal posts.

  A sickening pain radiated up his leg from the tackle he couldn't avoid. His screams of agony were lost in the roar of the crowd. His stomach rolled and Cade gasped to breathe through the knife like pains shooting down his leg. A cold sweat took hold of him and he shuddered uncontrollably. He tried to focus on the men on top of him but his vision wavered with each stab of pain.

  Team mates jumped on top of Cade, their excitement overflowing, and the crowd rose to their feet to cheer the victory. Feeling as though he was separated from the action around him, he focused on trying to stay conscious. He concentrated on taking stock of his injury. His leg was burning and it was hard to tell exactly where the pain was coming from. He feared it was broken at the very least.

  "Cade, mate, are you alright?" The coach looked down at him and took his mouthguard out so he could talk.

  "My leg. The bastard got my leg. It fucking burns, Col."

  The coach called on his radio for the stretcher and the crowd hushed as the ambulance officers attended to Cade. As they lifted him onto the stretcher, his leg moved and he screamed in pain.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He groaned and wiped his hand over his face, resting his arm over his eyes.

  "Cade, you'll be right, mate. You did it," Matt said. The team captain leaned over him, grinning. "We won, mate. I'll catch up with you soon."

  "Just make sure you convert that damned goal," Cade said before his voice wavered as another wave of pain hit. "Make it worth the bloody pain."

  "Done. Listen for the roar of the crowd as they take you into the locker room." Matt ran off to set up the ball.

  "Cade, mate, listen." The doctor leaned over him. "I need you to tell me where it hurts."

  "Fucked my leg…ahh…not sure where. It’s burning." The sweat ran into Cade’s eyes and he wiped his hand across his face as he grunted.

  "Right, let’s splint
it, just in case." The doctor guided the paramedics to strap Cade’s leg to minimise movement. "This is going to hurt, mate, but it can't be helped. We’ve got to get you onto the stretcher." He nodded at the paramedics. "On my count—one, two, three, lift."

  Cade gritted his teeth as they worked together to lift him. His vision wavered but he managed to hold in his cries of pain, with three people holding him in place on the cart. The jolt as the cart started shot new pain to his leg. Cade groaned and turned his head sideways, his stomach rolling. If he was going to vomit, it wouldn't be over his shirt. With each metre of space covered, the ruts in the ground vibrated through his body. The sweat rolled down his forehead and pooled in his eye sockets making his vision disappear and clear with each blink.

  The faces of the crowd blurred as Cade lifted his hand to wave. At least forty thousand members filled the stadium and their voices roared as he was driven through the tunnel to the locker room. Silence fell and in his mind, Cade pictured Matt taking the kick. The crowd went wild.

  "Good job Matt, good job," Cade muttered.

  "You set it up, Cade. You did well, mate."

  He tried to smile at the team doctor but the pain was too much. At what cost though.

  Chapter Two

  Across town, Cade's brother, Doctor Russ Williams rubbed his hand over his face, thankful his office door was closed. Another screaming phone call from Paula was all he needed to make his day. His soon to be ex-wife was determined to drain his bank account of every last cent she could lay her hands on. She told him it was payback for not being the husband she’d hoped he would be.

  He’d signed over their townhouse just so he could walk away and put his marriage behind him. Paula had been his soul mate, or so he thought at the time. They met in his last year at med school and clicked instantly.

  It wasn't until after they were married, he found out it was what he could offer her that mattered the most. She was determined to marry for money and with his family’s land investments, she thought she was onto a winner with Russ.

  Russ leaned back in his chair, his gaze going to the painting of a country scene on the wall. The rolling hills and gum trees took him back to his last visit home.

  ***

  "If you want to leave behind what I’ve worked my arse off to give you ungrateful kids, you are on your own. You won't get a penny from me." Russ's father stormed out, leaving him standing in the front drawing room.

  "You know your father loves you, Russ. It’s a great disappointment to him that you won't take over the farm," his mother said as she walked into the room.

  "He knows I want to be a doctor, Mother. He knew all along. Why wait until now to tell me how he’s disowning me?" Russ knew his father was a hard man but he had never tried to talk him out of his dream.

  "I know, Russ but I think deep down he thought it was just a young man's dream and you would come around eventually. You have farming blood in your veins but that doesn't mean you have to be a farmer like your father." She walked over and slipped her arm through his, guiding him to the green button-patterned leather couch. Drawing him down, she settled beside him. "Don't let go of your dream if that’s what you want. Go and study. Your father will survive."

  "I don't want to let you down, Mother. I don't think I could stand it if you were disappointed in me too."

  "Oh Russ, always the peacemaker." She kissed his cheek and the smell of her violet perfume filled his nostrils. "Do what feels right for you. Your father will survive, I'm sure."

  "He's cutting me off." He looked around the room and wondered how he would cope living away from all of this. He gazed through the open French windows at the manicured front lawns and circular driveway. The fabulous house he’d grown up in, wide open spaces of the family farm, and the restaurant quality meals their housekeeper cooked would soon be a thing of the past.

  "I know, but you can always use your grandmother’s trust fund. I'll clear it with the lawyers so you can dip into it for your school fees and rent." She squeezed his shoulder.

  "Won't Father try and stop you doing that? I know how he feels about us saving everything we get."

  "Since it was my mother that left you children the funds, it is mine to supervise however I see fit. Your father has never questioned how I run things in that respect."

  "Thanks, Mother. You’re amazing."

  "No, my darling boy, you are and don't let this hold you back. Your father will come around."

  ***

  Russ was grateful for what his father had done. It meant Paula couldn't touch any of the family money. A small blessing but there none the less, and now he could see the wisdom in his father's thinking.

  He picked up the phone and spoke to the outpatients’ receptionist. "Send in the next patient please, Carol."

  "I’m sorry, Doctor, but there is a man here to see you. He doesn't appear to be a patient and won't leave. He said he has something you would want to see," she said.

  "Fine, send him in." Russ stood and rubbed the back of his neck as he walked to open the door.

  A man in a dark grey suit walked towards him. "Dr. Williams?"

  "Yes, what can I do for you?"

  The man handed over a large yellow vellum envelope. "Have a nice day sir." Turning, he walked away.

  Russ shut the door and sat on the corner of his desk. He knew these were the final divorce papers from Paula's solicitor. Forcing down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, he slid his finger under the flap and tore the envelope open.

  He scanned the paperwork before calling his receptionist again. "Carol, I need a few minutes to myself. I'll let you know when I'm ready for the next patient." He put down the phone and sat in his chair. A wave of sadness washed over him. So, she has made her mind up and now there’s no going back, no matter how much I might want to.

  Holding the papers in his hand was hard. He took time to read them before picking up a pen. Laying the papers on his desk, he signed where marked and put them in the return envelope before he could stall. He had to accept she wouldn’t change. Not that he wanted her back. It was too late for reconciliation. Russ couldn't love someone who refused to see past the financial gains. Paula could never understand why he continued to work in the public hospital system and why it meant so much more to him than having his own practice.

  He was happy working within the public system, able to go wherever he was needed. The money was good enough and he wasn't stuck in one place for too long. Lately though, he’d felt a need to get away from the chaos and rush of the city. Sydney was great for study and work but with his marriage breakdown, it was all too overpowering and hurried.

  With a rush of nostalgia came the sudden urge to go home but he doubted his father would welcome him with open arms. Memories of his childhood raced through his mind and he leaned back in his chair. The large fig trees in the front yard where his brother and sister sat high in the branches, pelting him with the small hard figs that littered the crushed granite driveway.

  His thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d stood on that drive with his father. Bitterness had crept into the old man's voice when Russ returned for his mother's funeral.

  "If you’d hung around, you would at least have noticed she was ill and done something about it. She would have listened to you." His father scowled and poked his finger into Russ's chest before turning from him. Giving up, Russ climbed into his car and slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. He turned the key, starting the engine as his father turned back to him once more.

  "You can tell your sister she's gone too. I'm not going to waste my time on that one."

  "I don't know where she is."

  "Don't go making it my fault, sonny. Laying naked in the barn with that useless boy from down the road. I'm sure if it was your daughter, you would have done the same. Just lucky he got away from me when he did, all I can say."

  His father walked away, leaving him alone in front of the high pillars and wide veranda, the historical home devoi
d of life and the happy family that should be living there. The sun was setting and cast shadows over the red brick walls. He felt a shiver over his skin as he drove away without looking back.

  Russ swallowed the bitterness before he opened his door and strode angrily out to reception, handing over the sealed envelope before he could take it back. "Could you make sure this goes in today's mail please, Carole?"

  "Sure, Doctor Williams. Are you ready now for your next patient?"

  "Certainly. Who is it?"

  "Mr Watson. He's in the waiting room."

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of patients and paperwork. As he walked out of the hospital, the fatigue settled in. Weariness seeped into his bones and numbed his mind as he made his way home to his flat. Russ parked his car and locked it before walking to the letterbox. He leaned his head against the wall as he collected the envelopes protruding from the slot with his flat number on it.

  His lower back muscles screamed in pain as he looked at the flight of stairs. He grabbed the rail and looked at the climb in front of him. All twenty two of them taunted his sore, tired body. Russ pulled himself up, only stopping when he reached the top.

  Fidgeting to find the right key, he opened the door. Life was getting too damned hard. He walked up the tiny hallway into the kitchen and dropped the mail on the counter. Maybe he should look at moving to a slower pace of life. A country hospital or practice would suit him more than the bustle of city life. He let the thought take root in his mind as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked through to the lounge room. His mother had encouraged him to reach his potential and grow, something he wasn't doing in his present position. With a sigh, he fell into his favourite chair—the only piece of furniture Paula left him—resting his head back, and let his mind wander while he sipped his beer.

  He chewed over the idea while sipping the cold brew before he got up and threw the empty can in the trash. Logging on, he went to the site for medical vacancies and trolled through the job opportunities. A few years in a country practice is starting to sound just like what I need to get myself back on track.