Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 78 - Beeswax, Ice Cream and Benches

I honestly don't know why.

Shame, maybe; fear of being found, definitely. I was not thinking clearly; my brain was pickled in anxiety and fear.

My father was desperate for any news as well, but he thought that it was business as usual, that Willow's place as heir to the Mayfair throne was secure and that even though he couldn't gain any news or information on us, all was probably well. Still, there was a nagging fear at the back of his mind, and as days became weeks and finally months and not even Beth could reach us, he was starting to lose his mind with dread.

He even flew out to Mount Sovereign with Beth to see what they could learn and was told that we had left, and nobody knew where we'd gone. They tried to get the police involved, but that did not bring them any joy at all. Nobody was taking their fears seriously. CM Enterprises' lips were sealed, and all investigations into their affairs and by association Willow and my fates were discouraged. Power owns power, after all, and my father and Beth eventually had to return home.

They did not let the matter lie and were still in the process of testing every avenue they could use to find information on our whereabouts... and then I called Beth. When she called my father and told him that we were safe and on our way to Briar Cove and that we'd been through hell and would be reunited with him soon, he wanted to drive over and see us the day we arrived in Briar Cove.

Then he started to doubt his welcome. For almost two weeks, fear kept him from going to me, the same way it kept me from coming to him.

What a pair of stubborn fools we are!

Beth told me many times that we should drive over and say hello. She told him the same thing, but we both baulked at the idea, and she finally decided that the best way to treat two mules is just to let them find their own way.

Growing up, Daddy and I fought sometimes, and trying to force us to make up never worked out well. We've always loved each other and gravitated back to one another eventually. We did so again now. It just took ages and caused both of us so much unnecessary heartache.

Daddy said that Beth told him that this coming Sunday, she was going to drive up here, put him over her shoulder, dump him in her little bug and bring him to her house for lunch. She's had enough of our bullshit.

I can absolutely see her doing that and am now a little disappointed that I won't.

Alone in the house, I wander from the kitchen, down the hallway and into my old bedroom. It hasn't changed at all since I've last been here during happier days with Grayson and Willow. Gray and I always used the guest room with the double bed, and Willow stayed in my old room when she came to visit her grandparents.

Some of her toys are still here.

Unable to stand the gut-wrenching pain caused by floods of happy memories rushing into my mind unchecked, I leave my childhood bedroom and walk into the living room across the hallway instead.

Daddy said he needed to run out quickly and go chase Mable's sheep into one of his neighbour's camps, and then he'd bring my bag from the car. Apparently, they all take turns letting Mable's five sheep graze on their properties, and it is now Old Mr Turner's turn to have them visit. They rotate every few days to prevent overgrazing of anybody's land.

Once a year, during spring, there is a whole sheep shearing party, where all the neighbouring farmers come together with food and music, and those who know how to shear a sheep bring their shears along. It is one of the highlights of the year. I'm not entirely sure what Mable does with the wool. I suppose she sells it and buys herself better spying-on-your-neighbours gear. She certainly isn't the arts and crafts kind of person who would dye it and use it herself.