you, even if it was just sitting next to you. Do you understand?’ He didn’t wait for Izzy’s reply. ‘It became almost an obsession. Like a big carton of cold beer sitting on a table on a hot day, the more you deny yourself a taste the more you want it. I don’t know what to call what I feel about you, Izzy – some sort of love or lust – and it still aches sitting close to you but I know I’ll get over it. I can see how stupid I’ve been – taking off and driving all this way thinking I could win you back. I’ve had some time to think things over this afternoon, and I realise that with you gone, my obsession will fade away and life will go back to the way it was. Alice and I just need to spend time together and I’m sure you will be all forgotten and out of my mind … well, you know what I mean.’
‘Yeah, I understand. I know you’ll be fine once you have time with your family. Hopefully, after a while, I can come and visit and things can be back the way they were?’
Lines creased around Rob’s eyes as he smiled. ‘I would like that very much. And so would Alice and the kids. Just like old times. So we’re good?’
Izzy felt the tension leave her muscles as she nodded. Yep, they were good. And for the first time in the last couple of weeks she could see herself and Rob getting their old platonic relationship back on track.
5
HARVEST was flying along at a rapid pace. Izzy’s dad still wasn’t letting her get too involved, but at least Dave was happy for her to catch rides with him to the bin every now and then. Bill also let her go for the odd lap in the header here and there, but he wouldn’t let her drive. It was so stupid – he got no breaks from the long day’s work. She knew she could do so much more. If only he’d just let her.
They were both impressed with some of the crops – they’d gone fourteen to fifteen bags to the hectare, which was great.
That morning she’d taken a quick look in the silo to check the quality of the grain. ‘Dad, you’re going to have to adjust the drum a fraction. The white heads are too high,’ she’d informed him on the two-way. You got docked at the bin if you had too many white heads, the parts that encased the wheat. ‘But on the upside, the rye-grass is much less in this section of paddock. I couldn’t even find any wild oats. You’re into a good section of crop now.’ They also got docked on weeds in the wheat sample, so they liked to keep an eye on things. At least he trusted her ability to sample the grain. Working on the bin sampling the year she’d left school had given her the qualifications necessary to please her dad. It was probably the one thing he actually asked her opinion on.
It was an especially hot day. The radio announcer forecast thirty-nine degrees. But as there was no wind, there was no harvest ban – yet. Only a couple of weeks into harvest and already she was annoyed with the heat, flies and the boredom. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to do. Instead she was stuck sitting around the house or ferrying Dad’s smoko out to him. Big thrill that was.
Izzy sat waiting for Dave in the ute. Bill had already called Dave on the two-way, informing him they had another twenty-five tonnes ready to go. Izzy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and kept looking out the back window of the ute, which she’d parked next to the field bin and tractor.
A dust trail signalled Dave’s approach and quickly she jumped out. His truck made its way into the paddock and headed straight for the silver field bin. Seconds later, golden grains began to flow from the auger into the semitrailer, pinging as they hit the empty metal bin.
‘Cheers, Izzy,’ Dave called out as his long, scrawny form strolled towards her.
‘Hey, Dave. How’s it going? Flat out, I presume?’
Dave raised his wide-brimmed hat and scratched his head through his sandy-coloured hair. He was a good bloke: worked hard, never sat still, and would go out of
‘Yeah, I understand. I know you’ll be fine once you have time with your family. Hopefully, after a while, I can come and visit and things can be back the way they were?’
Lines creased around Rob’s eyes as he smiled. ‘I would like that very much. And so would Alice and the kids. Just like old times. So we’re good?’
Izzy felt the tension leave her muscles as she nodded. Yep, they were good. And for the first time in the last couple of weeks she could see herself and Rob getting their old platonic relationship back on track.
5
HARVEST was flying along at a rapid pace. Izzy’s dad still wasn’t letting her get too involved, but at least Dave was happy for her to catch rides with him to the bin every now and then. Bill also let her go for the odd lap in the header here and there, but he wouldn’t let her drive. It was so stupid – he got no breaks from the long day’s work. She knew she could do so much more. If only he’d just let her.
They were both impressed with some of the crops – they’d gone fourteen to fifteen bags to the hectare, which was great.
That morning she’d taken a quick look in the silo to check the quality of the grain. ‘Dad, you’re going to have to adjust the drum a fraction. The white heads are too high,’ she’d informed him on the two-way. You got docked at the bin if you had too many white heads, the parts that encased the wheat. ‘But on the upside, the rye-grass is much less in this section of paddock. I couldn’t even find any wild oats. You’re into a good section of crop now.’ They also got docked on weeds in the wheat sample, so they liked to keep an eye on things. At least he trusted her ability to sample the grain. Working on the bin sampling the year she’d left school had given her the qualifications necessary to please her dad. It was probably the one thing he actually asked her opinion on.
It was an especially hot day. The radio announcer forecast thirty-nine degrees. But as there was no wind, there was no harvest ban – yet. Only a couple of weeks into harvest and already she was annoyed with the heat, flies and the boredom. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to do. Instead she was stuck sitting around the house or ferrying Dad’s smoko out to him. Big thrill that was.
Izzy sat waiting for Dave in the ute. Bill had already called Dave on the two-way, informing him they had another twenty-five tonnes ready to go. Izzy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and kept looking out the back window of the ute, which she’d parked next to the field bin and tractor.
A dust trail signalled Dave’s approach and quickly she jumped out. His truck made its way into the paddock and headed straight for the silver field bin. Seconds later, golden grains began to flow from the auger into the semitrailer, pinging as they hit the empty metal bin.
‘Cheers, Izzy,’ Dave called out as his long, scrawny form strolled towards her.
‘Hey, Dave. How’s it going? Flat out, I presume?’
Dave raised his wide-brimmed hat and scratched his head through his sandy-coloured hair. He was a good bloke: worked hard, never sat still, and would go out of
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