Country Roads

by Nicole Hurley-Moore

  ***

  To celebrate the birthday of his beautiful wife Sally and the fact that it had been seven years since she’d moved to White Gum Creek, Davey decided to throw a dinner in her honour. Bec thought it was a lovely idea but at the back of her mind she wondered if there wasn’t an ulterior motive. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she had known Sally long enough to know that she was a closet matchmaker. For some reason Sally was under the impression that everyone should be as lucky and as happy as she and Davey were. It was a nice way to look at the world but Bec knew from personal experience that happily ever afters rarely happened. Davey and Sally had lucked out, it was as simple as that.

  Bec drove down the main street and made a left turn at the school. The Blackwells’ place was an old weatherboard cottage which sat on a big corner block. The house was sky blue with a darker front door. It was Sally’s favourite colour and Davey had painted it the day after she had accepted his proposal. Grand romantic gestures were few and far between in White Gum Creek, so this one had been noted in the town’s annals. If any other romantic tried to express the depths of his love for his partner, the Blackwells’ house was always held up as the yardstick against which it was measured. So far, no one had topped it.

  As there were already a few cars outside the house, she parked on the nature strip. Bec turned off the engine and reached over to the bright wrapped present on the passenger seat. She hoped she was wrong about the matchmaking and that the evening would be fun. Grabbing the present and her bag, she got out of her car and headed towards the front gate. A continuous row of daisy bushes lined the front fence, and off to one side in the middle of the front lawn stood an old cherry tree. Wrapping and curling its way along the verandah was a wisteria. In spring the mauve-blue flowers draped down and offset the colour of the house. Bec might be cynical about love but she had to admit that this was the prettiest house in town. There was a softness and a dreamy sensibility about it that made it stand out from the rest of the town. Perhaps it was a happy accident of architecture and landscaping, or maybe it just reflected the couple who owned it.

  Bec’s boots tapped out a beat as she walked up the steps and across the wooden floor of the verandah. The door was partly open and she could hear the sound of laughter coming from within. No point knocking, because no one would hear her anyway. Bec slipped inside and followed the voices to the large room out the back.

  ‘Hey everyone.’ Bec gave an all-encompassing general wave as she walked through the door.

  There was a chorus of greetings and smiles. There was Sally, Tash, Davey’s poker buddies and Matt (of course) – somehow she wasn’t surprised. But then again, she thought, maybe she shouldn’t be so suspicious. She knew that he and Davey had become friends.

  Sally gave a squeak as she jumped up from the couch and hurried over to Bec. ‘Yay, you’re finally here – I was beginning to think that you were going to stand us up.’

  Bec shook her head. ‘Nah, I just got a bit caught up. You know I wouldn’t miss your birthday.’ She gave Sally a hug before handing her the present. ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘Aw, thank you.’ Sally grabbed her hand and gave her a tug. ‘Come on, I’ll get you a drink.’

  ‘Hi Bec,’ Davey said. He was juggling several pans in and out of the large oven. ‘Dinner in about twenty.’

  ‘Hi Davey – that’s great, I’m starving,’ Bec said with a grin.

  ‘Good to hear. Grab a drink – there’s wine, orange juice, beer and some sparkling mineral water.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Sally called out.

  ‘Hey, you shouldn’t be doing anything,’ Davey said.

  She looked over her shoulder and gave him a grin. ‘I’m not an invalid, you know – it’s just my birthday.’

  Bec helped herself to a mineral water before wandering over and sitting next to Tash.

  ‘Looks like we’re a bit outnumbered tonight,’ Tash said as she glanced at Bec.

  ‘Yep, and it appears the numbers have increased.’

  ‘You mean Matt.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Gary told me that he’s been meeting up with them on a regular basis. Apparently he doesn’t miss a poker night but I did wonder . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘. . . if our dear Sally wasn’t up to her old tricks,’ Tash said with a laugh. ‘You know how she is – always wants everyone she cares about to be as happy as she is. God, she’s only just stopped trying to meddle in my love life. I had to sit her down and explain that none, and I mean none of the guys in town interested me. Besides, how could I ever be attracted to Gary when he used to pull my hair in kindergarten, and Dean never forgave me for being better than him in . . . well, just about everything.’

  Bec grinned at her friend. ‘Ah, but that’s not exactly true.’

  ‘Damn well is. At school I beat Dean at everything from maths tests and essay writing to soccer. You just can’t come back from that.’

  ‘No, no – I know that. That’s not what I mean. I meant that you do like someone in the area – Nicholas Langtree.’

  ‘Ah. Well, that goes without saying,’ Tash said with a sigh. ‘It’s probably hopeless but I’m always up for a challenge.’

  ‘Hey, maybe it’s too much of a challenge,’ Bec said with a small smile. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. Nick has a lot of ghosts to contend with. Perhaps finding someone who hasn’t got all that baggage might be more straightforward – that’s all I’m saying.’

  Tash looked at her for a moment before saying slowly, ‘Yeah, but where’s the value in that? As I said, I don’t know if anything will come of it, but I have to at least try. I’m not being self-sacrificing or noble, it’s just that it cuts me up to think of him sitting all alone at his place dwelling on the past. I want him to see that even if it’s not with me, he has a future.’

  Bec reached over and gave Tash’s hand a squeeze. ‘Okay, I understand. You were always too soft-hearted for your own good.’

  ‘Pffft, yeah, right.’

  Bec shook her head and bit back a smile. Her friend was a strong, goal-orientated, level-headed woman – that was until you showed her a picture of kittens or, better still, baby pandas, and she dissolved into an oohing aahing mess.

  ‘Okay everyone, if you want to grab your drinks and head over to the table, dinner is served,’ Davey’s voice boomed over the chatter in the room.

  As Bec stood up, Sally materialised by her side. She took her by the hand and guided her to the long farmhouse table which sat in front of a set of French doors leading out into the back garden.

  ‘Um, you sit here . . . next to Tash,’ Sally said as she pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down.

  Bec frowned. ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’

  ‘You’re weird, you know that, don’t you,’ Bec said as she moved the chair a little closer to the table.

  ‘Yep.’ Sally grinned back as she sat opposite her.

  Everyone found a seat and the next thing Bec knew, Matt was pulling out the chair next to hers. Bec leaned over the table towards Sally.

  ‘And you’re not very subtle either.’

  Sally put her hand on her chest and gave Bec an innocent look. Bec narrowed her eyes.

  ‘We’ll talk about this later.’

  ‘Hi Bec,’ Matt said.

  Bec turned her attention from Sally. ‘Hello, it seems we keep running into each other.’

  ‘Yeah, like literally.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t . . .’

  ‘I mean when we crashed into each other. You know, in the doorway of the stock feed shop.’

  ‘Oh yeah, look, I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘No harm done. So how have you been?’

  ‘Good, and you?’

  ‘Good.’ Matt glanced at her and grinned. ‘Wow, that would have to be the shortest and possibly the most awkward conversation ever.’

  Bec laughed. ‘Maybe it was. Okay, let’s try and
do better. What are you writing?’

  ‘You’re a brave woman, Ms Duprey.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Asking a writer about their work in progress can be a dangerous thing. I might waffle on about the plot twists until your eyes glaze over.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll give you the short version. I’m working on the third novel of my Alistair Tremayne series. No, that’s not exactly true – I’m trying to work on my new novel. I didn’t write for a long time and it’s been difficult getting started again. Anyway, I’ve got the bare bones of the plot so at least I kind of know where it’s going. It’s a suspense novel and my protagonist, Alistair Tremayne, discovers that someone is obsessed with him and trying to get his attention. There’s an ever-growing pile of bodies and each murder site has a link to the hero. Alistair has to find out who the murderer is before he finds himself accused of the crimes.’

  Bec nodded. ‘Okay, so it’s a fast-paced whodunnit?’

  ‘In a nutshell.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me the title.’

  ‘Obsession.’

  ‘It sounds good. You said that you’ve written a couple of books before this one – I’ll have to give them a go. What are they called?’

  ‘The first one is Complicity and the second, Paranoia.’

  ‘Great, I’ll pick them up next time I go to Bendigo.’

  ‘Thanks . . . but don’t feel compelled . . .’

  ‘No, I’m not. I like suspense so I’ll give them a try.’

  ‘So, other than handling your successful sheep run and reading the odd suspense novel, what do you do?’

  Bec gave Matt a quick smile. ‘Not much else. I’m afraid Bluestone Ridge keeps me pretty busy.’

  ‘Nothing else to tell?’

  ‘No, not really. I’ve lived here all my life, as have my parents and their parents before me. White Gum Creek isn’t exactly a hotspot for adventure and entertainment, but I like it and can’t see myself living anywhere else. Don’t get me wrong, there’re plenty of places I’d like to visit, but I think I’d always end up back here.’

  ‘So lots of trips and holidays then.’

  ‘Yeah – not that I’ve been anywhere, but hopefully one day. For now, I’ll have to live vicariously through the books I read.’

  ‘There are worse things,’ Matt said with a grin, and their eyes locked.

  The moment lasted longer than it should have. Bec knew she could have looked away or said something to break the connection but she didn’t. It was as if she were seeing Matt for the first time. It was uncomfortable and she didn’t know why.

  ‘Well, feel free to borrow any of my books,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Bec said as she looked down and toyed with her glass. ‘Ahhh . . . listen, I know that when we first met, we got off on sort of the wrong foot. I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Nothing to apologise for; you were right, I should never have lit that fire.’

  ‘Yeah . . . but my delivery was a bit harsh.’

  ‘Hey, let’s just move on and forget it ever happened.’

  Bec smiled and raised her glass. ‘Let’s drink to that!’

  ***

  As Bec drove home she had to admit that even though she’d been dreading being ‘accidentally’ pushed towards Matt, she’d enjoyed the evening. It hadn’t been as awkward as she had imagined, and it turned out that Matt was easy to talk to. Not that she’d ever tell Sally, because her friend would be planning double dates and a wedding before she knew it. No, she wouldn’t say a word, it was safer that way. Besides, nothing had happened and that was a good thing – she’d just had a lovely dinner with friends. Yeah, that was all it was. She and Matt had got off on the wrong foot, but now that was behind them and they could just be friends . . . mates.

  As Bec got out of her car she glanced up. The wind was picking up and blowing dark clouds across the night sky. The weather forecast had said that a storm was brewing. Bec hoped so; maybe there’d finally be a decent bit of rain. It was already well into autumn and there had only been a few light showers. They’d been welcome, but what the land needed was some good solid downpours.

  As she headed to the back door, she felt a couple of raindrops splatter on her arm and another half-dozen fall onto the dry ground by her feet. Hopefully they’d get a bit more than that, she thought as she slipped into the house.

  Chapter 7

  The wind howled through the old peppercorn at the back of the house. Matt sat back in his chair and listened. The sound made him feel suddenly lonely and isolated as it whipped around the old cottage. Perhaps it was just that it was one o’clock in the morning and he had only a desk lamp and the light of his tablet to keep him company, but the mournful wind and the sound of the creaking limbs and the rustle of leaves made him feel uneasy. Weather had never really bothered him that much when he lived in the city. It had seemed to be either sunny and hot or cold and raining with the odd thunderstorm – but out here everything seemed closer. He felt more exposed and at the mercy of the elements than he ever had in Melbourne.

  Matt stood up and wandered through the dark house towards the verandah. As he opened the front door the wind pushed against him as if it were trying to take him with it. He leant against one of the verandah posts and looked out into the night. The wind rushed through his garden, making the shrubs dance and sway in its wake. He wondered if there’d be any leaves left by morning. In the distance the night sky lit up with shafts of lightning. The storm wasn’t here yet – but it was coming.

  Matt stood in the darkness for a long time, listening to the wind and watching the storm edge closer. After a while the sweet scent of rain filled his lungs, and his uneasiness disappeared. With a sense of wonder, Matt suddenly knew that he was connected somehow; he knew that it sounded crazy, but that was it. He wasn’t isolated; he’d found a niche in this little town with friends who he could count on. But as he looked out into the night he realised that the connection went deeper than that – in fact, he was part not only of the cottage and the town but of the landscape, part of the wind and the storm. He couldn’t explain it but deep down he had a sense that he was where he’d always been meant to be. This place was where he belonged.

  ***

  Zane Turner got out of his navy four-wheel drive and stared at the slightly dilapidated weatherboard cottage in front of him. He was dreading this meeting but it had to be done. Zane knew that it wouldn’t end well – neither he nor Tanya were that level-headed. Tanya was all fire and passion and he guessed that was what he liked about her – that was why he had hung around and kept coming back for more. But life had just chucked him a curve ball. The more he thought about it, the more he could understand why his father wanted him to give it another go with Bec, no matter how slim his chances of success. He had to put the survival of Cara Downs before everything else, including Tanya. Before, it hadn’t mattered very much to him when his engagement had ended. The farm was doing well – really well – and he hadn’t thought that much about the future. He assumed that Cara Downs would always be there, but his last conversation with his dad had rattled him to the core.

  Zane had always thought that he’d have to marry someday, although every time he thought about it he never pictured Tanya standing beside him. He’d figured that perhaps he and Tanya could keep what they had burning on the side, but it didn’t look as if that was going to pan out now. Besides, deep down he knew that he’d never loved her; well, not the way he should. That sounded cold and mean and Zane didn’t want to be like that but it was the truth. Tanya was like an itch he liked to scratch. She was sexy and fun and he always enjoyed his time with her but . . . but it had never once in all these years felt solid. It was as if they were both biding their time with each other, or at least that’s how he felt. He cared about her but somewhere inside he knew it was never meant to be forever.

  He’d made a mistake once before and put his personal life before Cara Downs. Now Zane had decided t
hat he wouldn’t allow it to happen a second time. He had his doubts about his dad’s plan of him getting back with Bec, but if there was even the slightest glimmer of hope, he’d go for it.

  Zane took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The front door opened before he was halfway up the broken cement path.

  ‘Hey babe, what are you doing here?’ Tanya said as she ran her fingers through her hair. She had obviously just got back from work as she was still wearing the mid-blue uniform from Lansell’s Chicken Farm, though she had taken off the hated hairnet.

  He walked up the front step and past a couple of flowerpots containing some indistinguishable half-dead plants.

  Zane gave her a small smile. ‘I need to have a word – can I come in?’

  Tanya stepped back from the door. ‘As if you need to ask.’ She leant forward and dropped a kiss on his lips. ‘Listen, do you want to get a drink while I change out of these?’

  Zane wanted to get the whole thing over and done with but he knew how self-conscious Tanya was about her appearance and how much she loathed the fact that she had to wear a uniform to work.

  ‘Sure, I’ll grab a coffee. Meet you in the kitchen.’

  ‘Okay. Oh, there’s beer in the fridge if you’d rather that.’

  ‘Nah, coffee’s fine.’

  Tanya disappeared down the hallway as Zane made his way to the kitchen. He picked up the kettle from the chipped laminated bench and walked over to the sink. The room felt oppressive and all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

  A few minutes passed before Tanya walked into the room. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that showed off her long legs and a rose-coloured top with thin straps and a scooped neck. Even after all the years Zane still felt a flare of interest every time his gaze settled on her ample breasts. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

  ‘So what’s up? I thought you couldn’t make it until Friday night.’

  ‘As I said, I need to talk to you.’ He looked up but couldn’t hold her gaze. He hid this by looking down at his cup and stirring his coffee.

  ‘Wow, that sounds serious. Come on, babe, it can’t be that bad.’