A Place Called Home. Eleanor Jones

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.