‘And Wallace?’
‘I don’t think he was very happy. Obviously this all happened before my time, but Mum would often tell a story about how Dad used to be a man of few words. After they were married, he apparently returned from town saying he’d run into “a little trouble” that left him with a black eye and broken ribs.’
‘Wallace?’
‘Mum didn’t ever say, but I know once Anne said something about Wallace confronting Dad in town after the wedding.’ Paige folded her arms. ‘All I can say is the Wallace I remember scared the hell out of me.’
‘I find it hard to believe you’d be scared of anything, or anyone.’
Paige didn’t share his scepticism. ‘Seriously. He did scare me. He never smiled, always reeked like a pub, and used to watch me if we happened to be in town when he was. I must have been about five when Mum and I were in the park near the bakery. Mum was chatting – actually I think it was to Mrs Jessop – and he came up to talk to me while I was on the swing. I’ve never seen my mother so angry, or so scared. She stood between us and told him to stay away from me and her. After that, if we ever saw his old truck in town, Mum would say she’d forgotten her shopping list, or her wallet, or she had other things to do, and we’d turn around and drive home.’
Paige’s voice slowed as she stared at the headstone before her. ‘Then one night Killora Downs caught fire and Wallace, the only person living there by then, didn’t make it out. As a child, I still remember the expression on Mum’s face. She suddenly looked years younger. Some people believed the fire was an accident and others that he deliberately burned down the homestead. But whatever happened I wouldn’t ever wish such a fate on anyone, even old man Wallace.’
Tait flicked a glance over the other headstones in the Sinclair family plot. Unlike all the ornate headstones, this one was plain. Also unlike the other graves, there was no heartfelt inscription, merely a name – Wallace Sinclair – accompanied by a birth date and a death date stretching back fifteen years. It seemed Paige wasn’t the only one who hadn’t warmed to the man buried in front of him.
He swung away from the grave and pulled his hat even lower over his eyes.
‘Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?’ she asked, walking quickly to keep up with his fast pace as he returned to the car.
‘Not today. I lied when I said I wasn’t desperate for a coffee.’
An uncomfortable silence filled the ute cabin that even the labouring of the engine or the creaking of the had-it suspension couldn’t break. Paige shot a sideways look at Tait from beneath her lashes. Something was up. And it was more than him simply craving caffeine. Despite several attempts to initiate a conversation, Tait couldn’t be drawn in by any topic. Something about visiting the church had affected him. But what?
She hadn’t imagined his grim tone when he’d said he didn’t want to hear anything more about Wallace Sinclair. She knew little about Tait’s past or parents, other than he’d had a tree to climb, a mother he loved and a father who’d been absent.
Had a name or a date in the family plots triggered unhappy memories? She looked forward through the chipped windscreen, respecting his need for privacy.
But it wasn’t long before she sneaked another glance at his profile. She ignored the trip in her pulse. Every day Tait looked more and more like he belonged out here. His Akubra sported a fresh coating of ochre dust and a dent where, at the get-together, Sean had accidently trodden on it. The top two buttons of his creased work shirt were undone and dark denim once again hugged his hips. There was no sign of the tailored city boy who’d arrived last week. He’d told her to take a good look at him and she’d then see he wasn’t like Chris. And he was right.
Tait was nothing like Chris. Chris wouldn’t have woken up before dawn to feed cattle. Chris wouldn’t have talked and joked with her father. Paige concentrated on the rough track stretching before her and not on Tait’s tanned hand resting on his jeans. And Chris’s touch would never have resulted in such need blossoming low in her belly.
She swallowed past her dry throat. She may have misjudged Tait in some things but she couldn’t forsake either her duty or her responsibilities. For her peace of mind, as much as the smooth and safe running of Banora Downs, she had to keep her distance from him. She couldn’t be seduced by the purring of her senses when his strong fingers brushed her skin. But most of all she couldn’t listen to the growing rumours in her head that there was more to life than early mornings, lonely nights and a damnable, never-ending drought.
Chapter Ten
Paige needed to add one more thing to her list of life lessons. To be careful what she wished for.
She’d been desperate for a Tait-free day and when she’d finally been granted one, she found herself missing him. She adjusted her grip on the mug she carried as the kitchen screen door shut behind her. She needn’t have worried about steering clear of Tait as ever since yesterday’s church visit he appeared to go out of his way to avoid her. Her steps slowed as she passed the herbs and pink dianthus he’d planted in the pots. The soil was dark and moist. Tait continued to water them each day with his recycled shower water.
No loyal red heeler joined her as she crossed the powder-dry dirt to the shed. Dusty’s special spot in the shade beneath the rainwater tank remained empty. He now had a new favourite place to lie, wherever Tait was. She sighed. Tait had been at Banora Downs for a week and in such a time he’d become as much a part of the homestead as her grandmother’s antique furniture. But in another short week he’d be gone and memories of his generosity and his laughter would prove no match for the harsh reality of living without rain.
She frowned at the coffee she’d somehow managed to avoid spilling. So then what was she doing taking him his mid-morning smoko? So what if Connor had returned inside to lie down, she shouldn’t have volunteered to take Tait his caffeine hit. She didn’t need to wait on him, let alone seek him out. She hesitated and then continued walking. She was only doing what Connor had asked her to do, she was playing nice. That was all.
‘Could the shed be any hotter?’ Tait asked the dog lying at his feet and Dusty’s tail thumped an answer on the concrete.
Tait swiped the back of his hand across his damp forehead. He could take off his shirt but that would require extra movement and he needed to conserve energy otherwise his internal thermostat would explode. He bent to examine the car engine before him. It was either work in here or go out in the paddocks with Paige, and right now the furnace-hot shed seemed the better option.
He shouldn’t have agreed to visit the church yesterday. He should have known the effect looking at old graves would have had upon him and the deep sense of loss that they’d leave. Even though he’d made sure the brim of his hat shielded his face, his pain would have been visible. Of all people, Paige couldn’t be privy to the mess that was his life. Honesty was as much a part of her as her adored Akubra.
A slight cross-breeze from the two open doors played over him, carrying with it the scent of coffee and apples. Dusty’s tail thumped again. Tait’s fingers tightened around the spanner in his hand. So much for the shed proving a place of escape. He adjusted the last nut before straightening and surveying his handiwork.
‘Definitely looks like an engine to me,’ Paige said as she approached and stopped to scratch behind Dusty’s ear. The dog sighed and rolled over to have his stomach tickled. She rubbed his pale underbelly with the toe of her boot.
Tait put the spanner on a nearby bench, wiped his grease-covered hands on his jeans and forced a smile. ‘And you would be right.’
‘See, who says girls don’t know anything about cars.’ She passed him the mug. ‘Dad said you’re long overdue for morning smoko.’
‘Thanks,’ he said as he accepted the coffee. She was so near he could see the gold flecks in her eyes and the faded freckles across her nose.
‘It’s been a while since Dad’s worked on his cars. Thanks for helping him out. I know it gets hotter than hell in here.’
‘You can say that again, but even with the heat Connor isn’t the only one who likes pottering on engines.’ Tait took a gulp of coffee.
She examined his hands and oil-slicked shirt before laughing. ‘You don’t say.’
This time he didn’t need to force a smile. ‘So what brings you back to the house this morning? Connor thought you wouldn’t be home until late.’
‘Bookwork.’
He took another swallow of coffee to hide his sudden tension. Everything Paige would need for the bookwork would be in the file Connor had given him and which he’d placed in his suitcase for safe keeping. ‘Bookwork? I thought that might be an area Connor took care of.’
She shook her head and walked over to a covered car. ‘As much as I hate being inside, the books are my domain.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Yes, lucky me.’ She lifted the corner of the dust sheet and peered beneath. ‘After Dad’s accident I re-enrolled in Sydney Uni as an external student and eventually graduated with an agricultural economics degree. I really don’t mind doing the books. Besides it’s one less thing for Dad to worry about.’
She whipped the calico sheet off to reveal the sleek contours of an old navy Jaguar. Then, taking hold of the door handle, she opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat.
Tait took a last swig of coffee before placing the mug beside the spanner on the workbench. If he could keep Paige inside the shed long enough maybe he could distract her from the bookwork. Then over lunch he could slip up to his room, retrieve the file and have Connor return the paperwork to its usual spot. The business plan was almost complete. He and Connor couldn’t have Paige discover its existence now.
Tait walked to the Jaguar and bent to look in at Paige. ‘Are you coming across to the dark side? I didn’t take you for a car fanatic.’
‘Not a chance. Give me animals over machinery any day. But …’ she ran her fingers across the glossy, wood-grained panelling of the dashboard, ‘this car is special. It was my grandfather’s pride and joy. When I was younger, he’d always take me for rides. It was our special thing to do. Well, when it wasn’t too hot.’
‘So it wouldn’t leave the shed on a day like today?’
‘Definitely not on a day like today.’
‘Did your grandfather suffer in the heat?’
Paige laughed. ‘Hardly. He actually complained when Mum and Dad put air-conditioning in the homestead. No, it was the car.’ She patted the steering wheel. ‘As soon as the temperature climbed the engine would overheat. It took Grandpa one two-hour walk home to realise he could only take the Jag out when the weather cooled.’
Tait placed a hand on the door rim and leaned inside the car to reach for the hood lever. He’d take a quick look at the engine. Too late he realised his mistake. His head dipped, and even though Paige leaned out of his way, her mouth remained less than a hand span away. Their eyes met. Held. He breathed in the rose-soap scent that clung to her skin. His fingers fumbled for the release lever. Never had he been so glad to hear the sound of a car’s hood opening.
Chest tight, he strode around to the front of the Jaguar, secured the hood open and tugged at a hose to ensure it was secure.
‘You know,’ he said, voice rusty, ‘I might be able to help get this car on the road again.’
For a moment he wasn’t sure Paige had heard him. Then she joined him by the hood, standing at least an arm’s length away from his shoulder.
‘This Series III Jaguar might be a classic,’ he said into the thick silence that filled the space between them, ‘but there’s no reason why you can’t drive it again. The over-heating problem could be as simple as replacing the water pump.’
‘Thanks, but fixing it would require money and it’s enough to just sit in it every now and then.’ She bent to collect the dust sheet from the shed floor.
‘Fair enough. But if you change your mind, I could help Connor this week.’
‘Thanks again. But I’m sure you both have heaps to do, and speaking of which, I’d best go and find the missing paperwork.’
He closed the hood. ‘Missing paperwork?’
She nodded and tossed the sheet over the car. ‘For some reason everything I need isn’t in its usual place.’
He caught the cover mid-flight and helped settle it into position. ‘I’m sure the paperwork will turn up soon.’
She collected the empty mug from the workbench. ‘That’s what Dad said. When he wakes up from his nana-nap, he’ll help me look.’ She hesitated. ‘I have to go out to the waterhole tomorrow to check for feral dog tracks. Would you like to come? We could have a swim and a quick lunch?’
His jaw ached in the effort to silence his groan. He’d already lost enough sleep thanks to memories of a near-naked Paige washing off mud beneath the windmill. He now didn’t need to collect any more. But it didn’t matter how loud the shouts of his self-preservation, he had to get the business plan done and dusted and out of the way. Time was running out. He had to get his hands on the elusive Three-M Pastoral Company or he’d forever remain shackled to the past. He hadn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed.
He turned to pick up the spanner and to hide his expression. ‘That would be great.’
From within the library, Connor heard the dull roar of the ute down the driveway as Paige and Tait headed to the waterhole. Connor heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure his nerves could take much more of the twists and turns his plan to secure Paige’s future was delivering. But he’d risked too much to suddenly abandon everything now.
When he’d returned from the shed yesterday and found a frowning Paige riffling through the kitchen drawers, he’d known he and Tait were in trouble. Back early from the paddocks, she appeared determined to make a start on this month’s bookwork. When she’d asked if he’d seen the latest invoices he hadn’t lied; he said he’d have a short rest and then help her look for them. Fortunately over lunch Tait had managed to retrieve the bookwork file and Connor had made sure the folder had then turned up in a place Paige hadn’t yet looked.
Connor lowered the book he’d been reading onto his lap as the weight of his deception pressed down upon him. What had he been thinking even devising a matchmaking plan in the first place? What made him think he knew what Paige needed and what Tait wanted? He had no right to meddle in other people’s lives even if wrongs could be righted and the injustices of the past could be corrected. Just because he’d never had control over his life as a child, or when he’d lost his unborn son and later his wife, he didn’t have the green light to exert control now. If Molly was here he’d have someone to talk to. She could always calm his confusion and chaos. Loss ached within him like a physical pain.
At that moment the phone on the library table caught his attention. There was someone who’d not judge him and who’d be able to make sense of the things he couldn’t. Anne. But she’d already done so much for him and Paige. He couldn’t take advantage of her kind-heartedness or impose on their long-standing friendship. The past already burdened her enough as it was.
He stared at the phone. The only home he’d ever known was dying around him, a home that would suck the life out of his only child if he didn’t intervene. He couldn’t let Paige experience the black and pitiless loneliness that he felt growing up. He had to make sure her life would forever be filled with love and happiness and with sunlight and oranges. He closed the book in his lap. He had to take a risk and do what his childhood had conditioned him not to do. He had to take down that wall Molly had dismantled and which he’d rebuilt since her death. He had to share Molly’s faith that the world wouldn’t always deliver blows and abuse.
He’d give Anne a call and confess what he’d done. If anyone could, she would be able to help him find a way to pull through the web he’d bound them all up in and which pulled tighter with each passing day.
Paige changed the ute gears and ran through a quick inventory of the things she’d packed. At the top of the list of items they’d nee
d for their lunch was a billy and a full container of coffee.
As if privy to her thoughts, Tait twisted in his seat to peer into the back of the ute where the esky and picnic basket rested. ‘You did bring coffee, didn’t you?’
She nodded.
He smothered a yawn. ‘Of course, I’m only checking, not because I’m addicted, but because I’m feeling this morning’s early start.’
‘Of course.’
She sneaked a look at his expression. When feeding the cattle earlier, he’d been his normal inquisitive self but she couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. The set cast of his face hinted at some inner turbulence.
She eased her tense grip on the steering wheel. As if she could talk. What on earth had possessed her to ask Tait to come with her? She should have locked in another Tait-free day. After Connor had located the missing paperwork, she’d done little bookwork yesterday afternoon. She’d been too busy wrestling her hormones. So what if Tait’s mouth had been so close to hers and she could feel his breath wash across her skin? He’d been reaching for the Jaguar’s hood release lever, thoughts of kissing her the last thing on his mind. And thoughts of kissing him should be the last thing on her mind.
She glanced at him again, avoiding looking at his mouth. ‘This time next week and you’ll be drinking your favourite barista-blended coffee again.’
He grimaced. ‘Don’t remind me. The coffee I look forward to, but not to wearing a suit and tie.’ He lifted his forearm to examine the rolled up cuff of his cherry-red work shirt. ‘The truth is, I quite enjoy getting dirty.’
‘Now who’s coming across to the dark side?’
He gave her a rich chuckle. ‘Except …’ he looked at her faded navy shirt, ‘between wallowing in the dam and whatever you were doing to get yourself so dirty the day I arrived, you remain the undisputed Queen of Dirt.’
Beneath Outback Skies Page 11