by Mandy Magro
‘Well, love, you aren’t getting any younger. At the rate you’re going, you’ll end up with some clown riding in on a donkey.’
Molly laughed. At twenty-six she was still young – she knew David was only teasing. But she also knew he yearned for her to meet a guy who would love her and Rose as he felt they deserved to be loved. She could understand his concerns; she felt the same. She just hadn’t been lucky enough to meet the right bloke yet, the one she would marry and live happily ever after with. The only place he seemed to exist was in her dreams.
Molly had grown up in this old timber Queenslander, warmed by the love of her grandparents. The house had been built on the highest point of the property, with verandahs on all sides and huge casement windows, so the views over the paddocks were incredible. Molly often stood and gazed out the windows, captivated by the beauty she was surrounded by. Watching the horses and cattle grounded her and made her feel as though she was in touch with the earth she farmed on.
Everywhere you looked there were horses – in photos and paintings and sculptures that capture the essence and beauty of the magnificent creatures – and you’d find akubras, whips, spurs and saddles throughout the homestead. Cowhide rugs dressed the worn timber floors. To Molly, the whole house felt alive with stories of the past and hopes for the future.
The family had lived for four generations on Jacaranda Farm and Molly was very proud of the fact. There had been tough years with not much money coming in, but the family had stuck it out. Now they were one of the wealthiest families in Dimbulah. It was thanks to her granddad, who had figured out a way to make the fruit flower out of season, making Jacaranda the only farm in Australia with mangoes twice a year. Many other farmers around the area had tried to discover their secret – everything from buying Molly’s granddad too many beers down the pub to offering him large amounts of money – but David kept the information close to his heart. Only Molly knew what the secret was, and she was not about to tell another living soul. It was their key to success, and helped them through the bad times with the livestock market – which was a lot of the time these days.
Molly knew some men would love to get their hands on such a profitable farm, so she was wary of potential suitors. She was determined not to fall for someone who only saw Jacaranda in terms of financial gain, or even worse, could not understand her connection to the place. Her mother and father were buried here, under the beautiful jacaranda tree outside. Living here made her feel close to them in a way that perhaps only her grandparents could truly understand.
‘Do you need a hand with anything else for tomorrow?’ Molly asked Elizabeth.
‘Should be right, thanks, love. I’ve just got to finish the mango chutney and we’re all set.’
It was the Jones’ turn to hold the community’s Christmas bash this year, and Elizabeth and Molly had been preparing for weeks, making everything from rum balls to Christmas pudding and their famous mango chutney for the baked ham. They had enough food to feed an army, so no one would go home hungry. Rose was beside herself with excitement. Tonight Molly would help her leave the traditional biscuits and milk on the dining table for Santa. She smiled as she recalled Rose saying with concern that Santa would be so busy tomorrow, he probably wouldn’t have time to eat, so it was very important to remember to leave out his treats. Rose was always so very thoughtful. Molly sighed contentedly. Tomorrow was going to be a wonderful day.
Chapter 2
The overhead fluorescent light flickered to life as Heath dropped his towel to the floor and began rummaging through his drawers in search of jocks, jeans and a T-shirt. Droplets of water ran down his broad, hairless chest, meeting with the carved muscles of his abs as they continued on a downward path. He hadn’t bothered to dry off completely after his shower, the rivulets of water on his body keeping him cool in the stifling tropical heat. Garp, Jenny’s pet cat, meowed his hello from the comfort of Heath’s bed as he gracefully stretched his rested limbs. Heath glanced over at him as he pulled on his jeans, smiling at the way Garp was lying on his back with all four legs casually splayed out around him – a very compromising position but a favourite of Garp’s. Modesty was not one of the cat’s virtues.
‘Ah, mate, you have the life. Lazing about all day, no need to worry about much other than when you’re going to eat next. And even then I prepare it for you. I think I’ll come back as a cat in my next life. I like the sound of having nine lives.’ Heath gave him a scratch and Garp’s purring became louder. ‘Jenny picked a winner when she spotted you at the RSPCA. You’re a wonderful daily reminder of her, buddy.’
Heath made his way out to the lounge room, chuckling to himself as he passed Kenny and Trev on the couch, their attention glued to Who Wants to be a Millionaire, both blokes shouting out the answers as if the competitor could hear them through the television. Heath pulled his leather jacket from the back of the dining chair and shrugged it on, keen to get on his Harley and feel the breeze whipping around him; it was stifling in a jacket in this bloody heat.
‘Righto, you two party animals. I’m off to finish my Christmas shopping. There are two hours of late-night shopping left and in typical blokey fashion I’ve left the most important present until the very last minute. Catch you both later on.’
Heath vanished out the front door to half-hearted goodbyes. Not that it bothered him. Trev and Kenny were impossible to talk to when they were watching the telly, especially when it involved some kind of game show. The pair were constantly trying to outdo each other in a healthy banter type of way. Heath found it hilarious to watch.
The shovel-head Harley Davidson rumbled to life, its deep grunt echoing around the massive shed to make it sound more like five bikes instead of one. Heath loved the powerful roar of the engine; it always pumped him up, making him feel close to invincible. It was similar to riding a horse for him, but brought him closer to euphoria. The only other sensation that could top riding his Harley was making love to a beautiful woman. Not that he had experienced that for a very long time. He had to be madly in love before he could do that. One-night stands were not on his agenda. Why bother? It was meaningless. Life was full of meaningless shit, so why should making love just be another meaningless act? No, love was everything to him, and more. And making love was an extension of this, nothing less. Jenny was the first woman he had ever loved in this way but life had dealt him a low blow and taken her from him in the most painful of ways. He just needed to let her go, to get on with his life, and for the first time in the past year he really felt like he could. He finally believed he could breathe again, that he could love again. And it felt wonderful. Like he’d been given a second chance.
Heath held the bracelet in his hand, turning it over in the light to examine the finer details of it. It was beautiful, just like her. God, he hoped she liked it. Would she? Was he doing the right thing buying it? Or should he just stick to what he normally bought her? Like an R M Williams shirt or a pair of Wrangler jeans? That would be the safest bet, he thought. But why play safe in the game of love? What was wrong with throwing all your cards on the table? The fact he was delusional for even thinking he had a chance with her, that’s what was wrong with it. Oh, bugger it, he thought. Take the plunge, regret it later.
‘I’ll take it,’ he pronounced excitedly.
The Mareeba cemetery sat cloaked in darkness, the eeriness of the place not worrying Heath one bit as he pulled in on his Harley. He had been here a hundred times over, especially on nights when he found himself incapable of sleeping. He turned the motor off, the instant silence creating a slight ringing in his ears as he adjusted to the stillness. Pulling his torch and a bunch of brightly coloured flowers from the leather saddle bags on his Harley, he turned in the direction of the grave he had come to visit. A familiar heaviness sat on his heart as he began the short walk down the perfectly manicured lawn.
It didn’t take him long to find the place Jenny had been laid to rest. Even without a torch he would have known how to find it. He knelt do
wn in front of the enormous headstone, the enchanting photo of Jenny bringing a faint smile to his lips. She had the most addictive of smiles, with a knack for cheering up even the saddest of souls. Placing the flowers in the permanent vase, Heath began rubbing the dust from the headstone with his hand while reading the inscription out softly to himself, as he had done many times before.
In loving memory of Jenny Marie Coleman.
5 December 1986 – 12 November 2010
If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, we’d
walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.
You will be in our hearts forever.
‘Merry Christmas, Jenny,’ Heath whispered as he got comfortable on the grass, letting the peacefulness wash over him for a few minutes as he gathered his thoughts. He had come to talk with Jenny, tell her what was on his mind and in his heart. He thought it was time he acknowledged how he felt, and stopped trying to ignore the deep feelings he had.
Heath picked at the grass, twirling it between his fingers as he began to speak. ‘Well, Jenny, it’s been over a year now and I still miss you every day, but I’ve come to accept that you are gone and never coming back. I feel bad saying this, but I have to move on with my life. I really want a family of my own. And knowing you as I do, I reckon you would encourage that.’
Heath exhaled slowly, his emotions fighting to get the better of him. But he wouldn’t let them. He had cried for long enough now. He wanted to find happiness in his life again. ‘I’m falling in love, Jenny, with a woman you know very well. I’m not too sure if it’s the right thing to be doing, seeing she was like a sister to you, but as they say, you can’t control love. It just happens. I don’t know if anything’s going to come out of it. I mean, I don’t even know if she feels the same way. But I have to find out; I have to explore the possibility. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. I can’t risk her falling for another man just because I was too afraid to tell her how I feel. I hope you can understand all this, Jenny, and that you give me your blessing.’ Heath stopped, chuckling as he added, ‘And I wish you could give me some advice. You know how clueless I can be sometimes when it comes to women.’
Heath dropped back on the throttle, reducing the loud growl of the Harley to a gentle purr as he idled past the Jacaranda homestead, his eyes drawn to Molly’s bedroom window. Soft light filtered through the parted curtains as they ruffled in the tropical evening breeze, Molly’s silhouette moving beyond them. He looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring; the last thing he needed right now was for her to think he was invading her privacy. His intuition told him to take things very slowly, otherwise he chanced scaring her away. He knew she was going to be hesitant – shocked, even – when he eventually admitted how he felt.
Parking the Harley back in the shed, Heath sighed and pulled his helmet free. He could feel the destiny of love dragging him down a road he was wary of, but a road that also led to so many wonderful possibilities. He wasn’t sure what his future held, but he was going to give this all that he had. Molly Jones was worth it, and so was her darling little Rose.
Chapter 3
The birds chorused loudly outside Molly’s bedroom window, forcing her to pull the thin cotton sheet over her head to try to drown out their celebrations. It was her first morning off for months, but sleeping in was proving impossible, thanks to her body clock. After tossing and turning like a category-four cyclone under her sheet until she resembled a cocooned moth, she finally conceded she might as well get up.
The house was silent as she tiptoed down the long hallway, pausing for a moment to run her fingertip over a fading black-and-white photo of her dad riding saddle bronc – a trained bucking horse – in the seventies. She whispered, ‘Merry Christmas, Dad,’ before sneaking past Rose’s bedroom, avoiding those boards in the old timber floor that she knew creaked.
Molly knew her grandparents would already be out on the verandah, sitting in their favourite cane chairs with steaming cups of tea. Molly loved this time of the day, too. As her best mate, Jade, always said, with the rising of the sun came a brand new day to forget the trials of yesterday, and the chance to create experiences you could reminisce about tomorrow. It was a nice way to view the world, Molly thought.
‘Merry Christmas, guys!’ Molly said as she joined her grandparents, kissing them both on the cheek. ‘What a brilliant day for it.’
‘Merry Christmas, darling,’ Elizabeth replied warmly.
‘Merry Christmas, love. Where’s the little princess then? I thought she’d be up by now with ants in her pants.’ David drained the last of his tea then inspected the cup as though it had a hole in it.
‘Still sleeping, but not for much longer, I bet. I can’t wait until she sees what we’ve got her. What time’s Uncle Rob arriving?’
‘He said he’ll be here at eight so I better get in and start breakfast.’ Elizabeth slowly pushed herself out of the chair, trying to stretch her arthritic legs back to life. ‘I think I just heard Rose’s door open – watch out, you two, she’s going to be a livewire this morning.’ Elizabeth chuckled as she stepped into the house, the flyscreen door shutting softly behind her.
Molly and David listened to Rose’s footsteps gathering momentum on the hard wooden floors until she finally erupted through the screen door, beaming from ear to ear and clapping her hands with joy. ‘Merry Christmas, Mum and GG!’
Molly scooped Rose up as her daughter wrapped her small arms and legs around her, squeezing so tightly that Molly felt as though she had a boa constrictor attached to her. They shared an Eskimo kiss, a morning ritual between them.
‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I wonder what Santa’s brought you, seeing you’ve been such a good girl this year! And I know he’s been because the bickies and milk are all gone and the bugger left crumbs all over the table.’ Molly chuckled, winking at David. ‘Now, you better jump down and give GG a kiss and cuddle, too, before we have breakfast and open presents.’
Molly watched as Rose cuddled her granddad, a part of her feeling guilty that Rose had never had a father to share Christmas with. She wondered if she was ever going to meet the man who would sweep her off her feet and fulfill her dream of creating a new family for Rose.
Smack on eight o’clock Uncle Rob came tearing along the dirt drive, a thick cloud of red dust rolling out behind him as far as the eye could see. Molly jumped with fright when he pulled in and his rusty old Toyota backfired loudly.
‘When are you going to bury the old beast, Uncle Rob? I think she’s truly fulfilled her duties for you for this lifetime,’ Molly called out from where she was perched on the front steps with a cuppa.
Rob grinned as he and the two spare tyres around his waist rolled out of the driver’s side door. Molly giggled, watching him try to pull his faded blue stubbies up under his belly. They kept sliding down again far enough for everyone to see his bum poking out of the top. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Still, she loved her uncle with all her heart. He was a typical Aussie larrikin – always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone – and made you smile whenever he was around. He always wore the same thing: a Bonds singlet, stubbies, a pair of thongs that he updated from Kmart twice a year, and his beloved akubra, which had seen better days. The only time he changed was when he was driving his cattle truck, and then he wore his R M Williams boots instead of his pluggers.
Molly’s aunt, Cheryl, enthusiastically motioned for Molly to come over to the Toyota, pointing at the two beautiful border collie puppies in the back with a huge grin on her round, freckled face. Cheryl was a top cook who loved her food, and it showed in her size-eighteen figure. She was well known for the cake stand she held at the various local markets, and her orange and almond cake was to die for. She and Rob had never had any children. After years of trying, Cheryl had resigned herself to the fact she and Rob just couldn’t, instead doting on the many children in the extended family, especially Rose.
Molly, Rob and Cheryl crept into the house, trying to hide the puppies
in their arms, a giant task in itself. Rose spotted the wriggling bundles as soon as Molly walked into the kitchen. ‘Oh wow! Puppies! Oh, Mum, they’re beautiful! Where did you find them? Did Santa bring them? Can I keep them?’
Rose’s smile melted Molly’s heart. ‘Of course you can keep them, honey. They’re your Christmas presents. I couldn’t pick just one so I got you both of them. A boy and a girl. It’ll be nice for the puppies to have each other to grow up with, even though they’re going to drive Skip mad.’
‘I’m going to call the boy Mack after Uncle Rob’s truck, and I’ll call the girl Sasha just because I really like the name Sasha,’ Rose announced proudly as she sat on the floor to play with her new friends, giggling as they licked her toes.
‘Aw, kids, hey. You gotta love their innocent little hearts. Bless them,’ Cheryl chortled while popping a whole rum ball in her mouth, leaving traces of coconut stuck to her bright-pink lipstick.
‘They’re border collies, Rose, like Skip, so they’ll need training. Otherwise, they’ll get bored and get up to all sorts of trouble,’ Rob said as he knelt to give Rose a quick kiss on the cheek.
Rose looked up at Rob very seriously. ‘I’ll make them the best cattle-mustering dogs in town. You just wait and see. GG will help me, won’t you, GG?’
David stroked her hair. ‘Of course I will, sweetheart. It’ll be my pleasure.’
Rob’s belly growled loudly. ‘Right, you mob. I think that’s our cue to start the day’s festivities. Breakfast looks and smells great, Mum, as always. I’d better eat or I’ll fade away to a shadow.’
After breakfast they went into the lounge room where gifts were heaped under the Christmas tree. The puppies tumbled around in the growing mounds of paper as Rose unwrapped present after present.