Meant To Be by Fiona McCallum Page A

anything else.
    As hard as this will be, it will be worth it. If it wasn’t meant to be, the universe would have sent a sign.
    She couldn’t wait to get started. She knew it was all a little silly, melodramatic, overly romantic – whatever you wanted to call it – but she just could not shake the feeling.
    And she had Jake to thank. She looked up at him and smiled warmly, and forced her romantic notions aside to focus on what he was saying.
    â€˜I think building just in front would be a good idea. That way we won’t have to move everything twice.’
    Emily stared at the rubble pile. In the months since John had knocked it down, the mishmash of bricks, timber, corrugated iron, stone and other unidentifiable building debris had become overgrown with weeds. As the scale of it struck her, she started to feel a dose of reality seeping in.
    â€˜Jesus, where do we start?’
    â€˜First we’ll have to go through it all to sort the rubbish from what is reusable.’ Jake was getting more animated. He went to the edge of the pile and picked out a few rocks.
    â€˜See,’ he said, holding up two for Emily to examine. ‘We’d need to chip off the old mortar and get the stone clean. It’s not hard, just time-consuming. You could do it – I can teach you, if you’re interested. We could do it together.’
    Emily closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Ah, bliss. She could imagine them spending whole days working side by side; taking rocks from one pile, chipping away to clean them up, adding them to a new pile, stopping to eat and sip on water, taking the occasional rest together. At the end of each day they’d walk back to the house, exhausted but happy and fulfilled. Hopefully not too worn out to make love…
    The next morning they’d return – hand in hand – and start all over again. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, but it was totally romantic too. Not unlike men in her grandparents’ era building their future brides a house as a wedding gift.
    Oh, Jake, could you be more perfect?
    Standing there in the partial shade of the large gum trees with the sun gently drumming on her back, Emily literally felt warm and fuzzy right through to her bones. Her negative voice tried to tell her he wasn’t actually building her a house – she was paying for it – but her positive voice wasn’t having a bar of it. This is going to be great.
    â€˜It won’t be easy, but it can be done,’ Jake added, as he put the rocks back down onto the pile. Emily suddenly had the feeling Jake was losing enthusiasm. Perhaps because she was just standing there looking all weird and vacant.
    â€˜If you think it can be done, it can be,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘And I’m willing to get my hands dirty,’ she added, linking her arm through his. Wasn’t this what she’d dreamt of with John? Back then she’d hoped they would run the farm shoulder to shoulder, but what did the project matter? What mattered was a mutual goal to work towards.
    Suddenly Emily could see how Gran could have given up her posh home life with all its trappings to become the wife of a mere farmer – no disrespect to Grandpa. She had loved her man, and had known they could do anything as long as they were together. Their goal had been the farm and raising a family. Emily’s was a little different, but she felt sure the feelings were the same. At that moment she felt on top of the world; like she could achieve whatever she put her mind to.
    â€˜Come on, I want to start making some notes and calculations,’ Jake said, leading her back towards the main house.
    Part of her wanted to stay and start sorting through the rocks, but there was no point going at it like a bull at a gate, as Gran would say. As a professional, Jake would want to formulate a sound, workable plan. Slow and steady wins the race. If it was meant to be, it would be.
    Back inside, Jake