Keely watched him for a moment. “I wish I had your courage.”

He snorted. “If I had courage, I’d have it out with Euan. Anyway, there’s all kinds of courage. Look at you, facing those kids in the classroom. I wouldn’t want to do that. I remember what I was like at school. It can’t be easy to be a teacher.”

Keely’s stomach churned and the heavy weight settled quickly on her shoulders. She had been so busy all day that she’d successfully blocked any thoughts of the looming teaching job. Now the thought that it was only a day away hung over her like a shroud. She stared at the glinting dark water of the river. The mind was a strange thing. How can you be blissfully happy one minute, then trapped in fear the next?

“It’s not,” she murmured.

“But you enjoy teaching, otherwise why would you do it?”

She turned to look at him. He was only an arm’s distance away. “I don’t enjoy it.”

Surprise flickered across his face.

“In fact, I loathe it.” She slumped in her chair and looked back to the river. Just saying it out loud eased the ache in her shoulders. She hated feeling so miserable, hated teaching and even hated the students who had made her feel that way. Hate was a strong word, her mother always said. You should never say you hate someone. But hate was what she felt, and admitting it was a relief.

“Why don’t you just say no?”

She looked at Flynn. “I can’t.”

“But why do something if you hate it?”

Keely jumped up, sending the chair skittering away behind her. Why had she said anything? She’d never admitted her hate of teaching to anyone. Why now and to Flynn of all people? It was such a jumble and confusion inside her she couldn’t find the words to make proper sense of it to herself, so how could she explain it to him?

She wrapped an arm around a verandah post and leaned her head against it. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve just enjoyed being here and doing something totally different. But I have to earn a living. Teaching is what I do.” The shroud settled back around her with its familiar weight. She rolled a shoulder to ease the ache. “But I feel like I’m always holding my breath, waiting for something.”

Flynn came to stand beside her. “Stop waiting,” he said earnestly. “Use your talents to do other things. We still owe you payment for the labels but wine labels are just a drop in the ocean. You can earn money from your art in other ways.”

“I don’t expect payment.”

“Why not? A good label is very important and if we use the sketch of Jack as well, the remuneration will be quite substantial.”