Burning with Passion

She hastily swapped the essentials from her suede shoulder-bag to the leather one she favoured for practical purposes, collected her suitcase, locked her apartment, and headed for her car.

Caitlin loved her little car. The Mazda 121 was cute and friendly with its rounded curves. David had laughingly called it a cartoon bubble car, but Caitlin had not let his amusement spoil her pleasure in it. She didn’t care about flash performance or a status statement. It was the first car she could call her very own and she loved it.

As she walked along the parking bays of the carport attached to the block of apartments, it occurred to her that throwing in her job with David could change her financial position quite drastically. On the basis of the salary David had paid her, she had moved from a shared apartment to having the luxury of a one-bedroom apartment to herself. She had taken on the commitment of paying for a car. If she didn’t land some comparable job very quickly, she would have to shed either the car or the apartment.

The future took on a bleaker prospect.

Caitlin fought off the threatening wave of overwhelming depression. She had made the right decision in parting from David. She would not sell her soul for money. If the car had to go, it would be a far less heart-wrenching loss than Dobbin.

As for the apartment, she had shared one before and she could share again. That was no great hardship. She had enough grief to deal with at the present moment. She would worry about tomorrow when tomorrow came.

She didn’t actually need a car. She still caught the bus to and from work rather than fight peak-hour traffic for such a short trip. She used it more for weekend travelling than anything else. For the situation Caitlin found herself in today, her little car was invaluable. She settled herself into it with a sense of relief and comfort, and started the journey north.

She thought over her parents’ lives as she drove out of Sydney and along the Newcastle expressway. Everything had changed quite dramatically for them two years ago. An estate developer had offered a huge amount of money for their farm at Mardi, an irresistible sum of money to her mother’s mind. She had nagged her husband into selling, much against his personal inclinations.

They now had a lovely brick home in the nearby township of Wyong, in the same street where Michelle lived with her husband and three young children. It was precisely where her mother wanted to be. Caitlin was aware that her father was not quite so happy with it.

He missed the farm. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was bored silly. Planning the next trip to some distant part of the world he hadn’t seen and didn’t wish to see was not his idea of having a purpose in life. His most prized Galloway horses and Caitlin’s pony had been agisted on a property at Wyong Creek. Keeping an eye on them was his only link to all he had given up.

Caitlin’s mother considered that quite enough. They had earned their retirement and now was the time to enjoy it before they became too old. It had seemed a valid argument. Yet for some reason, which had to be very cogent to him, her father had walked out on her mother. Today of all days!

Caitlin left the expressway at the Wyong exit and took the route through Mardi to link up with the road to Yarramalong. She felt a twinge of sadness as she passed the old farm, now subdivided into two-and-a-half-acre housing lots. She had spent a very happy childhood on that land.

Life is change, she told herself, but some changes cut very deeply at fundamental values.

She wondered how much David would miss her. Would he miss her at all? She berated herself for the speculation. It was futile. To David, whose life centred on his needs, she was already yesterday’s woman. He would have a replacement lined up before he left the office today.

She had to shut him out of her mind. And heart.

A roadside sign gave the distance to ‘The Last Retreat’ as two kilometres. Caitlin knew it was more a country lodge than a pub. The signboard outside the main building listed horseriding among the activities available for guests.

As she parked her car in the area set aside for visitors, she saw her father?

?s pick-up truck outside one of the motel-style units. She decided to bypass the reception desk inside the lodge and go directly to the unit her father was undoubtedly occupying.

It was one-thirty. Time was of the essence. If there was to be an anniversary party tonight, it was due to start at seven-thirty. If it hadn’t been already cancelled.

She knocked on the door long and hard before it was opened. Her father looked terrible; unshaven, his clothes crumpled, and worst of all, with an air of defeat written all over him.

Caitlin went straight into his arms, hugging him with a fierce love that wanted to make everything better for him, yet ending up blubbering on his shoulder.

He patted her back and stroked her hair, still his little girl despite the passage of years that had turned her into a young woman. ‘There, there,’ he soothed. ‘Everything is all right.’

‘I wish it were.’

‘It’s for the best. Take my word on it.’

‘I’m trying to, Dad,’ she sniffed.

‘What happened to Dobbin wouldn’t have happened if we’d still had the farm. I’d have gone out to have a look at him.’

‘It’s not your fault, Dad.’

‘I don’t know, Caitlin. I should never have agreed to what your mother wanted. We’ve never had a happy day since.’

Caitlin took a deep breath. This was the problem that had to be faced without any further delay. She looked up pleadingly. ‘Dad, you and Mum have now got all the things most people dream about. You worked hard, battled hard, struggled hard. You should be able to enjoy the good things in life.’

‘We sold out for money,’ he said heavily, ‘and they spoiled it. Some of the best grazing land in these parts. I knew every inch of it, every blade of grass.’