by Juanita Kees
There was a time when he’d laugh and tickle her ribs for being cheeky. A time long gone now. ‘They’d better hurry it up before all the panels shake off the frame.’
She cast him a quick side glance before turning her concentration back to the road. ‘Would you prefer to walk?’
‘You offered me a ride.’
A pink blush crept into her cheeks. Oh yes, he thought, she remembered that line. He’d bet his last standing bine of hops that she remembered how that ride had gone down too. Before her dad had almost ripped the door of Harley’s ute off its hinges.
But this time his cockiness didn’t raise a smile, nor did she slip her hand to his thigh and let it follow a path up to his … well, the part of him that was paying full attention to the direction of his thoughts, thank you very much.
He cleared his throat and shifted, cranking down the window to let some cool air in. He let his arm rest on top of the brittle window seals around the frame.
Tameka and her dad didn’t seem to be faring too well either if the state of the burst hose lying on the floor at his feet and the ute were anything to go by.
There was a difference between neglect and well-loved when it came to equipment. Tikki’s was well-loved with the need of a cash injection. One the Chalmers clearly didn’t have these days.
‘Can I buy you a late lunch at Mama Bella’s Cafe?’ She got skinnier every time he saw her.
‘This isn’t a date, Harley. It’s business. We’ll go talk to your dad then I’ll sort out my hose, bring you home and we can go back to not talking to each other over the fence. I’ll get on with my business and you can get on with yours.’
Ouch. She still had the power to cut him off at the balls. So, no peace treaty then, not even a brief one. Had he really believed there could be?
‘Cool. Just wanted to … you know … say thank you?’
She sighed, her knuckles white on the worn steering wheel. ‘This is what neighbours do. They stand by each other in times of need and then get on with their lives when the crisis has passed.’
Direct hit. When Louis Chalmers had locked himself and his daughter away, the community had offered to help, only to have their hands bitten for their trouble. He’d tried to reach her, multiple times, but each time he’d hit a hundred-and-twenty-kilogram brick wall in the shape of her father holding a loaded shotgun.
Then the ultimate insult had come. Two days after the Big Bang, Chalmers had cut off their water supply from the dam the farms had shared for four generations with the Fishers, the previous owners of Golden Acres. Not exactly how neighbours stood by each other.
‘I tried to see you.’ Harley tapped out a rhythm on the door panel with his fingers.
‘I know you did.’ Her hands relaxed a little on the wheel.
‘Your father threatened to shoot me if I came anywhere near you.’
She grimaced. ‘That sounds about right. Just as well you didn’t test out his threat.’
‘Yeah, Dad thought it was wise to listen to him. It didn’t stop me wanting to though.’
‘You did the right thing by staying away. Maybe things were happening too fast for us anyway. I don’t know. If Mum was still here …’ Her words trailed away to silence.
He wanted to ask if she’d ever heard from her mum again, but old wounds festered enough without re-opening them. Rumours had flown around town, but no-one had confirmed anything. Mai Chalmers had simply packed her suitcase and left right after the Big Bang.
And knowing Chalmers the way they did, no-one had questioned her leaving because they thought it served the bastard right for treating her the way he did. Everyone had wondered though, at least once, why she hadn’t taken her daughter with her … until they’d found another Wongan Creek disaster to focus on.
The town centre loomed ahead and Tameka eased the ute down Main Street at the required limit of forty kilometres per hour. Harley felt her stiffen as she scanned the pavement outside the shops, her knuckles white from gripping the steering.
‘Which way to your folks’ place?’
‘Left at Addie Street, two blocks down and hook a right into Sunrise Terrace. Number eighty-eight. You don’t have to do this, Tameka. We can get your hose and leave. I’ll talk to Dad later.’
‘No. I owe it to him. To you. To anyone else who may be affected. Damn it, Harley, this sucks. I tried to tell him.’ She pulled up outside number eighty-eight, turned off the engine and sat with her hands balled into fists in her lap, controlling the in and out whoosh of her breath.
Harley frowned. What on earth was she afraid of? Tameka had never been afraid of anything. ‘It’s Mum and Dad’s place, not a lion’s den. They care about you. Always have.’
‘I know that, smart-arse.’
‘Then what are you worried about?’
‘The questions. Always the questions.’
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. And damn it, he wanted to deposit a kiss on that beautiful mouth to see if she tasted as good as he remembered, and maybe chase her fear away, fix some of the shit he’d caused that had driven this wedge between them.
‘Mine or theirs?’
‘Everyone’s.’
Chapter 4
Tameka pushed open the door of the ute, got out and slammed it shut behind her. She cursed the speed with which Harley’s long legs covered the distance between them and the look of concern on his face. She didn’t need him worrying about her.
‘Step aside, Baker.’
‘Not until I’m sure you can handle walking up the pathway to the front door without falling apart. Like your machinery.’ He pointed to the hydraulic hose now lying on the dashboard of her ute where he’d put it.
She pushed past him and headed for the gate, ignoring the tentacles of anxiety that wrapped themselves around her chest and squeezed. ‘I’m fine.’ She hadn’t fallen apart for a long time. Couldn’t afford to.
‘And I call bullshit on that.’ The quiet certainty in his voice almost had her crumbling.
Turning to face him, she edged her chin higher. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Harley. You haven’t for almost a decade.’ Damn, it hurt to know that was the truth and that he had no idea of the mess her life had become. No clue how messed up her thought processes and loyalties were. No need to know that she had to be strong and weak at the same time, paused between fight or flight, give up or survive.
Tameka eyed him from under the brim of the hat she’d slapped on her head. He stood tall, strong and solid, feet apart in dusty leather work boots, jeans clinging to his thighs, his hands firmly on his hips.
She wanted to run into those arms and be held against his heartbeat until all the nightmares of the last eight years disappeared. But she wasn’t nineteen anymore, and Harley was as out of reach as the moon and stars.
Over his shoulder she spotted Harley’s mum rushing up the road towards them, a grin on her lips and a large brown paper bag in her hand. Her blue eyes, so like her son’s, sparkled warmly, her free arm already reaching out for the hug Harley received and returned with equal enthusiasm before setting his mum back on her feet.
Tameka watched the embrace with her heart in her throat. It had been so long since someone had hugged her like that.
‘Darling, you made it … and, Tameka, what a lovely surprise to see you here too.’
‘Hello, Mrs Baker.’
Tameka blinked back the sudden prick of tears. Warmth was the last thing she’d expected from Harley’s mum after the whole scene over the dam and her father virtually cutting off the Bakers’ livelihood. But the aftershocks of Shirley Baker’s sunny enthusiasm were hard to ignore. She had the kind of smile a person couldn’t help but return, no matter how much sadness was locked away in their heart.
‘I’ve been in to pick up a cake from Mama Bella’s for tea. Your dad is so excited about you coming to visit. He’s curious to know how the harvest went and how the crops in the greenhouses are doing.’
Tameka shivered. She hated having to be
the one to dull the happy light that shone in Shirley Baker’s eyes. When would the Chalmers stop hurting the Bakers? So many nights, lying in the dark, on edge at every noise, she wished things could be different. That she could turn back the past and change the future.
‘We’ve got a lot to talk about, Mum. That’s why Tameka came in with me to see Dad.’ The seriousness in Harley’s tone did nothing to dampen his mum’s enthusiasm.
Releasing her son, Shirley Baker stepped back, her smile brightening. ‘You came in together? That’s great!’ She hugged Tameka hard. ‘Sweetheart, it’s so lovely to see you again. It’s been ages.’
Oh hell no, she couldn’t let Mrs Baker think this was a reconciliation. Not when she was about to bring more heartache to their table. ‘I had to come into town for some spare parts. When Harley told me he was coming to see you, I offered him a lift.’
Lamer than Baby’s excuse for carrying watermelons in Dirty Dancing, she thought, but damn it, she wasn’t anywhere near ready to let go of the warmth of Mrs Baker’s welcome just yet to reveal the true reason for her visit.
‘Oh that’s lovely, dear.’ Shirley shook her head sadly. ‘The mood in town is a little unpleasant today. A couple of the farmers came in complaining about spray drift damage to their crops. It happens every year. There’s plenty of talk about selling out to John Bannister. The changing weather conditions and expanding mine operations is making it harder and harder to maintain farming land.’
‘I hope Dad’s not stressing out about it too much, Mum. He can’t afford to after the last heart attack.’ Harley placed an arm around his mother’s shoulders.
‘You know your dad, love. He can’t help himself.’ A frown crossed Shirley’s brow. ‘A word of warning since you’re in town, Tameka. It wouldn’t be fair not to let you know you might run into some angry farmers while you’re here. Your father’s name has been rolled around already this morning. Apparently, he’s the only one left using the phenoxies that caused the damage.’
She should have known it was a mistake coming into town. Tameka let her shoulders sag as the urge to run and hide clawed at her belly. Damn the questions and the answers, and damn her father to hell for his insistence on using such archaic, destructive methods of weed control. Damn him too for leaving her to face the fall out while he buried his head in a bottle.
‘Great. Just great.’ She caught the look of confusion on Shirley’s face at her abrupt tone. ‘Thanks for the heads-up. How is Mr Baker?’
‘Oh, he’s okay, sweetheart. As well as can be expected. Even though he’s not involved in the farm with Harley running it, he still likes to keep an eye on these things.’ Shirley patted Tameka’s hand. ‘He’s going to love seeing you. You are coming in, aren’t you? It’s been too long.’
The tug at Tameka’s heart came close to pain. She liked Harley’s parents. Their home life had always been so unified compared to her own. Harley had a string of uncles, aunts and cousins—blood relations or otherwise—whereas Tameka didn’t even know where her mother was from in Vietnam.
Mum had seldom spoken of her home or her life before she’d met Tameka’s father.
Khong co van de con. Toi o day. Chau Uc. No matter, child. I am here. Australia.
His parents were always doing things within the community while her own had pretty much cut themselves off from everyone, including their neighbours. Only Tameka, Harley and his brother, Ryan, had formed a bond of friendship, the way only children could amidst the adversity between the adults.
Her breath hitched at the thought of Ryan. Gone so long ago, way too soon, far too young. Ryan’s death had brought her and Harley closer as he’d struggled to come to terms with the fact that his brother would never swim in the dam or play football in the fields with them again. That too had changed as they grew and friendship had morphed into a relationship between her and Harley.
Even in the worst crisis, the Bakers stuck together like a family should, unlike the Chalmers. Who knew where Dad’s family was? So far she hadn’t found anything on the Chalmers’ ancestry. And Mum … well, she’d never know. All her research had turned up were dead ends.
No marriage certificate, no passport, no papers, no trace of where her mother had come from. And the internet search engines threw up thousands of Nguyens—a dynasty rather than a family name.
‘Tameka?’ Shirley squeezed her hand. ‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’
No, she wasn’t okay at all. She missed normal—the warm hugs, the hot soup in winter at Mrs Baker’s kitchen table, the fun, friendship, laughter and comfort in Harley’s arms.
‘Yes, all good.’ Leaning in, she kissed Shirley’s cheek. ‘Do you mind if I go inside and have a word with Mr B about the spray drift? Since he’s on the council at the National Farmers Federation, I’d like to get some advice on how to deal with the situation.’
‘Of course, sweetheart, go ahead. He’ll be happy to discuss things with you and help you work out a resolution beneficial to everyone.’
If only her father would adopt the same approach. Tameka crossed her arms over her chest and tried to ease the tightness that held her breathing captive.
‘I’ll come with you.’ Harley stepped forward.
‘No, it’s okay. I need to handle this on my own.’
‘Tikki—’
‘I said I can do this alone.’ She hadn’t meant for the bite in her tone to slip out and regretted the cloud of hurt that formed then dissipated in Harley’s eyes.
‘Fine.’
She read the warning in his gaze, but she had no intention of putting Tom Baker at risk of another heart attack and knew she’d have to tread carefully around the subject. It wasn’t her place to tell his father about the extent of the damage on Bakers Hill, only to fix the mess she’d created. If only she knew how.
Shirley’s gaze flicked between them. ‘Harley and I will be in the kitchen making tea. Come through when you’re done.’ Shirley squeezed Tameka’s arm. ‘It’s not your fault. We understand that.’
It was her fault because she couldn’t stop it, but no-one would understand that. Ever. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered then she walked away because if she spent any longer out there surrounded by motherly comfort and love, she’d give in to the tears of regret that lodged in her throat.
Mrs B’s words followed her up the gravel pathway to the front door. ‘Such a shame we don’t see enough of her since … well, you know. She’s such a lovely girl.’
She wished she was that girl Harley’s mum thought her to be. The girl she had been once. The one who’d been carefree and full of dreams, full of hope for the future … instead of the empty shell she’d become.
***
‘Oh, Harley, she’s so skinny.’ His mum whispered the words between them as Tameka disappeared into the house. ‘Is she okay? Do you think she’s eating well enough?’
Harley grinned. If he said no, Mum would produce a truckload of takeaway containers filled with leftovers to give to Tameka. If he said yes, she’d call his bluff. Either way, he’d end up with a cooler full of food and his freezer would be overflowing because he doubted a Chalmers would take anything from a Baker. Not even a home-cooked meal.
‘I’m sure she’s fine, Mum,’ he said, even though he was worried too. ‘You remember how tiny and delicate her mum was. Tameka takes after her in build, that’s all.’
‘I don’t know, Harley. Something doesn’t feel right. It never has. That was such a terrible business with her mum leaving and all the hoo-hah over the dam.’ Shirley sighed. ‘I don’t understand why she stayed with that awful man and didn’t go with her mum. Do you think she’s happy? She looks so sad and terribly tired.’
Sad and empty, a shell of the girl he’d once known. It made his heart ache for her. And he understood even less why she’d stayed with Louis Chalmers when she’d had the perfect excuse to leave. Harley would have taken her into his home in a heartbeat.
Maybe one day she would leave and he’d never see her again, a thought that scared
the bloody life out of him. Then he would have to let go of the hope that one day they might get back together again. And he wasn’t anywhere near ready to let go of that chance, slim though it might be.
‘Sowing season is a busy time of the year for her, Mum. She’s got plenty to worry about. Too much or too little rain, frost, weeds, damage from the bloody parrots that chew everything including the pipes on the machinery. Those damn things chomp right through the bitumen on the roads, never mind the damage they do to the crops. Once her barley is established, she’ll catch a break.’
‘You’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you, Harley?’
‘Always.’
‘Good because I worry about that girl. How could Mai go off without her? It’s so sad.’
Harley put an arm around his mum’s shoulders and hugged her. ‘You forget, Mum, Tameka’s one tough cookie.’ Sometimes a little too tough for his liking. ‘Now tell me, how’s Dad really doing?’
‘He’s okay. I’ve tried to keep him as calm as possible over all this talk of everyone selling out to John Bannister. I think he’s worried the whole town will become one big hole in the ground if we don’t take a stand against the expansion of the mine and persevere with farming. We need more people like old Harry Murchison. He told Bannister to take a hike and now he’s building a retirement facility.’ She smiled and winked. ‘Although no-one dares refer to it as that. Harry insists it’s a “lifestyle village”.’ She sighed. ‘So much speculation and rumour at the moment. Anyway, I’m sure your dad’s waiting for his tea. Oh, he’ll be so happy to see you now you’re done with harvest. It’s such a busy time.’
‘I think he misses it.’ Harley smiled as he glanced at the front door. How was Tameka doing with his dad? Would the added stress put more strain on his heart?
After the heart attack, Dad had been banned from taking part in the harvest. He hadn’t accepted it quietly and only Mum’s insistence that they move to town, closer to the hospital, had convinced him to give in. No-one argued with Shirley Baker when her size sixes were firmly down.