Mountain Ash

by Margareta Osborn

  Jodie swung around to look at her mate. ‘Stace, I want to have fun, believe me I do. But I’m not footloose and fancy-free like you. I’m not really single. I have responsibilities, namely Milly, and much and all as one half of me wishes I could be free, the other half knows, on Monday, I go back to being a mother again. Singledom and all its fun is over. And even though I have a child, I don’t fit into the “married with kids” camp either.’ Jodie sighed and bent down to undo the strap on her swag. She kicked at the canvas to unroll the mattress and shoved her bed under the tarp. ‘That’s why I do things like sewing and campdrafting. I don’t have a foot in either the single or married camp so I just have to make my own rules.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Stace with a triumphant look on her face. ‘So you go sewing tomorrow and then come back and party with us. That should keep both the opposing “little Miss CWA” and the “girl who just wants to have fun” sides of you happy.’

  Stacey looked so smug, Jodie didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d missed the point entirely.

  But then had she? thought Jodie to herself later on. She was sitting in the grandstand watching some people work their horses in the arena.

  Who said she couldn’t have the best of both worlds? The community? Those Catholic women sheltering their precious sons? She’d barely graced the doorway of the church since she’d arrived in town, the only time being for her father’s funeral. Who cared what people she didn’t know thought? But then what about her father? The man who’d frowned upon her parking outside the pub, for Friday or Saturday night drinks after work. ‘You don’t want to be getting a reputation,’ he’d said. Maybe he’d had a point but he wasn’t here now to worry about what she did.

  ‘Penny for them?’ A man sat down beside her. It was the cowboy she’d been trying to forget about.

  Jodie cast wildly around. ‘Oh, I was just thinking how that horse out there moved like mine.’

  ‘You’ve got a ride here?’ The man sounded surprised.

  Jodie frowned, affronted. Didn’t he think she could ride? ‘You didn’t have a horse float at the back of that ute,’ he said with a self-conscious smile. ‘My mistake.’

  Jodie felt awful. Her face always showed her thoughts. ‘No. I should apologise. I thought you were insinuating I couldn’t ride. Which, I probably can’t, not like those girls out there anyway.’ Jodie threw her hand towards the arena. ‘Parnie, that’s my horse, and I are just learning the ropes.’

  The man beside her chuckled. ‘Yeah well, I can only ride a quiet horse myself.’

  Jodie somehow doubted that. The man walked with bow-legs. You didn’t move like that unless you’d spent half your life in the saddle.

  ‘Look, maybe we should start again.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Nate and you’re Ash, am I right?’

  Jodie hesitated a moment, then nodded.

  ‘Just Ash?’

  Jodie smiled. ‘Yes, just Ash.’ Her fingers were engulfed by Nate’s hand, causing little sparks of electricity to shoot up her arm. Stung, she dropped his handshake quickly. Nate didn’t seem to notice a thing. He dropped his fingers then slouched forwards, head in hands, as though he was intent on what was going on in the arena. Jodie stuck her hand under her legs to let the warmth of her body dissipate the tingly feeling that still remained.

  Apart from slaps of leather and pounding hooves out in front, silence settled between them. It stretched for quite a few minutes. This was obviously a bloke comfortable with ‘nothing to say’.

  However, she felt like she had to say something to break the silence. ‘So, what do you ride?’ It was a ridiculous question and Jodie cursed herself but, for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything else to say that was coherent. He was having that effect on her brain.

  Nate seemed to wait a few beats before he responded, like he wasn’t sure what to say either. He turned to face her and his eyes bored into hers with all their blue intensity. The way he was looking at her gave her goose bumps. Nice goose bumps, mind you. ‘I’m on my own at the moment.’

  Did he mean he didn’t have a horse or a woman?

  ‘But I’m working on it.’

  Was he angling to pick up this weekend?

  ‘Couldn’t find anything I wanted up until now.’

  Someone like her?

  ‘But a bloke’s just told me about this really good campdrafter for sale.’

  Jodie reined herself in, cursing inwardly for even thinking he might have been interested in her. After all, she was taken. Sort of. Wasn’t she? That niggly voice persisted: you find him attractive. In fact, more than attractive … downright bloody sexy …

  ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of him? His name’s Warrior.’

  She was busily staring at his lips. They were so lush and sensitive looking. She wondered what they’d be like to ki–Warrior! Did he just say Warrior?

  ‘I’ve heard him mentioned,’ she said, eyes cast down, frantically trying to get her mind back on track. If this bloke bought Warrior then Alex wouldn’t be able to hassle her about him. That’d be one less thing to argue about. Alex. Alex who? ‘What I did hear was all good.’

  Nate was nodding. ‘Yeah, that’s what this bloke said. I’ll have to check it out further. Listen, I need to go now but are you around for the whole weekend?’

  The way he said it was like there was an invitation or even a promise involved. Maybe he was interested after all? You’re taken, you’re taken …

  ‘Here and there,’ said Jodie, using the most noncommittal tone she could muster, which to her own ears sounded weaker than a used tea bag. ‘I’ve got a few things on.’

  Nate gazed at her with interest. She noticed his face, handsome as it was, showed a map of many hours spent in the sun. Oh my God, he is such a honey. ‘So you are riding?’ he said.

  Jodie blinked. Regrouped. ‘No, my horse is at home. He’s recovering from a little accident. Nothing serious.’ Well, it didn’t end up being serious, anyway.

  ‘So you’re not riding?’

  Why was he being so persistent? ‘No,’ said Jodie. ‘I’m doing, well, a few other things, but I’ll be around at night.’ You’re taken, you’re taken … Sex only happened at night, according to her mother. Why was she thinking about sex, for fuck’s sake!

  Nate contemplated her a few more moments before getting up. He doffed his Akubra at her. ‘Well, Ms Enigmatic, I’ll catch you this evening then.’

  And he walked off, leaving her with a bird’s eye view of one of the sexiest Wrangler arses she’d ever seen, a set of square, well-filled-out shoulders and manners good enough that he let an elderly lady go before him down the grandstand steps.

  Far out. He was a dish. A full-on hat-wearing, horse-riding, bow-legged cowboy with a hefty reputation. With a body and face like that he’d have to have a reputation. He was as sexy as hell.

  Every part of her was on high alert and screaming for him.

  She was in a truckload of trouble.

  Chapter 16

  By eight o’clock Jodie had decided she didn’t have to be in any trouble at all. She and the girls had cooked themselves up a feed for tea and, after she assured them she was right to do the dishes, they’d gone running off to play merry hell, leaving her with a dishcloth, a pile of dirty plates and peace. She’d made a promise she’d join them later, but was currently considering breaking it. If she just washed up and went to bed, she’d be safe from this Cowboy Nate and his sort. She’d then get up in the morning with a clear head and hike it to her sewing class. Voila! Not one temptation to entice her to sin.

  ‘Need a hand with that?’ The tone was gravelly, as though the owner had smoked his fair share of cigarettes over the years.

  ‘Holy crap! You scared the shit out of me.’

  An elderly man doffed his hat. ‘Sorry about that, ma’am. Just thinking I should do my neighbourly duty.’ The man, who she guessed was around seventy, nodded towards the LandCruiser she’d seen coming through the gate earlier with an old Singer on the ba
ck. It was now parked a few vehicles up the paddock towards the river. ‘I was just heading off to find a tap to wash my dishes, saw you and thought we might be able to join forces?’

  The bloke had an old-world air about him. His deferential attitude, the direct way he looked at her when he spoke, his open grin. She could say yes or no, no matter. She immediately warmed to him, wondering who he reminded her of. Then, she realised she’d better respond rather than just standing there like a dill, one hand in the wash tub, the other holding a tea-towel.

  ‘Right. Here’s a towel then. Thanks.’ She stuck her head down and started scrubbing the plates. Why the other girls hadn’t brought disposables she didn’t know. She guessed it would have taken a mother to have thought of that easier option.

  ‘And so you’re riding?’

  ‘No. I’m doing other stuff.’

  ‘Like?’

  Well, seeing he did have a sewing machine on the back of his ute, what was the harm in telling him? ‘Tomorrow I’m doing a quilting workshop the CWA have organised here in town. Just came here with a bunch of girlfriends.’ She nodded towards Stacey’s Crewman. ‘They’ve headed to the bar and band.’

  The bloke smiled a slow, easy, gummy grin. ‘Yeah, my mate’s headed there too. Me? I thought I might have an early night. Been hitting the turps a bit hard lately.’ He patted the Driza-Bone vest that covered his tummy. ‘Need to let the old liver take a break.’

  Jodie smiled her full-force grin at him and the man nearly dropped the plate he was holding. He must be a fumble fingers, she thought, as she suddenly realised who he reminded her of. Her dad. That decided her.

  ‘I’m Ash,’ she said. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Wallace. Wallace Price, at your service.’ He tilted his hat in her direction.

  Oh gosh. Another gentleman. Thank God this one was an old gentleman who didn’t seem to want anything. She didn’t need any more complications at this moment in her life.

  ‘And so, this quilting workshop, what are you doing there?’

  Jodie snuck him another glance. He didn’t sound like he was taking the piss out of her. In fact he seemed really interested. ‘It’s a bargello quilt. Well, more of a sampler really. You can make it into a wall-hanging, part of a larger quilt – whatever takes your fancy.’

  Wallace stroked his bristly old chin. ‘And this bargello, what is that exactly?’

  Jodie had only a vague idea herself. ‘Using strip piecing, I think you slice and dice to make these geometric designs that look like they twist and turn in front of your eyes. In the quilting magazines they look amazing. I think there’s a few ways to do them and a lot of designs, but I like the patterns that seem to move as you look at them.’

  ‘You’re passionate about sewing? Or quilting, at least?’ said Wallace.

  Jodie thought about that. ‘Not so much passionate. I’m passionate about my daughter. Sewing is just a hobby, a bit like horse-riding, I guess. Although I’d have to say Parnie, that’s my horse,’ she explained, ‘doesn’t quite come under the heading of “hobby” either. He’s a part of our family.’

  ‘So you’re married?’ asked Wallace with interest.

  Mmmm … what to answer? The truth, she decided. Take it or leave it. ‘No, I’m a single parent.’

  To her surprise there was no judgement in his eyes. As he was of an older generation, she’d thought there might be, but he just took it in his stride and moved on.

  ‘I’m passionate about leather work, meself,’ he said with a quick, self-conscious glance at her.

  Goodness, was he ashamed that he sewed even if it was leather? ‘That’s why you’ve got that terrific old Singer? I’d adore one of those.’

  Wallace blushed, put down the plate he’d been drying and picked up another. ‘Yes, well, it’s a lovely old thing. It was my mother’s.’

  ‘You are so lucky!’

  ‘I guess I am. I hadn’t thought of it like that. An old bushie who sews isn’t exactly a common thing.’

  Jodie smiled and said, ‘Hardly old,’ trying to be nice.

  Wallace looked thoughtful. ‘I guess fifty-seven isn’t that old.’

  She choked. He was fifty-seven? Holy crap. He looked waaaay older than Alex and there was only one year difference.

  But Wallace was talking again, and she tried to refocus.

  ‘This patchwork thingy. Would the CWA ladies take a late entry? I wouldn’t mind coming along.’ The man’s eyes twinkled. ‘You never know, I might learn about quilting and meet a lovely lady who can make a mean scone.’

  Jodie smiled. Wallace did his ‘drop the plate thing’ again. He really was a fumble fingers, just like her dad. ‘They said they were going to take a few extra machines to the hall for anyone who happened to turn up on the day. I’m sure you’d be welcome.’

  Wallace had finished drying and was hanging up his towel on the nearby fence. ‘That seals it. Delightful. Until tomorrow then, Miss Ash. Lovely to meet you.’ He doffed his hat and strode off with a jaunty step, dishes under his arm, a whistle on his lips.

  Well, at least she’d made someone’s day.

  It was hours later and Jodie was still awake. She’d given up trying to sleep. The noise coming from the party down the hill was too loud. She was amazed Stacey hadn’t come back to drag her there. A part of her wished her friend had. The wild ‘I’m a single person again’ part, that is. The rest of her was quite content to be right where she was.

  The noise of someone walking past the ute caught her attention. Even though she’d only met him twice she knew that walk, that confident gait. It was Nate. She kept her head on her pillow, listening to hear if she could trace where he went. Which vehicle was his? Just lying there it was a bit hard to track him, though, and the sound of his boots quickly faded in the night. He was leaving the party early. As she lay looking out beyond her tarp, towards the millions of stars twink ling in the clear night sky, she couldn’t help but wonder if that meant anything.

  The next morning a ute pulled up beside Jodie. ‘Need a lift?’ It was Wallace, complete with his Singer on the back of the tray.

  Jodie stopped and considered the offer.

  The man obviously saw she was prevaricating. ‘I’m safe,’ he said. ‘I won’t be going anywhere bar that patchworking hall, if you’ll show me where it is.’ Jodie nodded and got into the ute. ‘I’m too old for you anyway,’ he said as he felt around and found the seat-belt clip for her. Jodie cringed, immediately thinking of Alex. The ute took off, Wallace grinding the gears as he drove. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll pick up the gear-box on the way back.’

  Jodie laughed as Wallace crunched another gear. ‘It’s not my ute, it’s me mate’s,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘He’s back watching the drafting. Thinks I’m a bit coo-coo doing this. But I says to him, fuck off –’ Wallace stopped, looking aghast, then started again. ‘Begging your pardon for my language. Been around blokes way too long.’ At Jodie’s nod, he went on, ‘So anyways, I told him to take a hike and here I am. Looking forward to it too.’ The old man grinned, showing his gums in all their red, shiny glory. Somehow, though, Jodie didn’t mind. This was a man who was passionate about his sewing.

  They arrived in plenty of time, picked up the kits for the quilt sampler, got Wallace registered and set up with a borrowed machine. (They’d decided it was easier to leave his Singer right where it was.) The CWA ladies were all a-flutter there was a man in the room and regardless of his lack of teeth Wallace’s old-fashioned manners and courtesy towards women shone through and claimed many a widow’s attention. He was in his element. His sewing prowess wasn’t quite so crash hot, but he was having so much fun and was such a delight in class that no one really minded.

  Jodie, for her part, assiduously followed all the instructions and by lunchtime had made a decent start on her quilt.

  It was about two o’clock, after they’d returned to their machines, that her peace and sense of purpose departed.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ said a voice at her s
houlder.

  She glanced up to see a pair of sky-blue eyes boring down at her. ‘This is where you’re hiding, hey? Old Wal was close-mouthed about that one. He didn’t say anything about blonde-headed beauties being involved with bargello.’

  Jodie started. Nate was Wal’s ute-owning mate? And how in the dickens did he know about bargello?

  At her look of puzzlement he gave a half laugh. ‘My mother was a great patchworker. You’d be surprised about what I know.’ And then he winked, which sent Jodie’s thoughts diving to her crotch. Oh God. There was something divine about a man who could wink as sexually as that.

  She put her head back down in an attempt to concentrate on finishing sewing the strip of fabrics she had in her hand. Fussed with her scissors. Clipped the cotton. Anything other than look up at Nate while she was blushing like a virgin bride. Get a hold of yourself, Ashton. Get your mind out of the gutter and back on track.

  It didn’t matter anyway, as Nate had moved on towards Wallace. ‘Hey there, Wal. Looking good, mate. Love the run of colours.’ Wal’s sampler was a shifting pattern of deep russet, woodland green, midnight blue all waving and curling around lighter salmon, sky-blue and sunny yellow. It was a manly type of quilt. Jodie’s, on the other hand, had scatterings of burgundies, pinks and purples. It was decidedly more girly.

  Wallace, much to Jodie’s amazement, was blushing a brilliant red. ‘Yes, well, I’m a bit proud of it meself.’ He flung the squares of material he was strip-piecing back under the foot of the machine. ‘Gotta keep sewing though, mate. Haven’t got time to be yakking to the likes of you.’ Wallace’s harem all twittered at his humour and Nate was summarily dismissed from the table. He wandered back towards Jodie and stood behind her. ‘Need a hand?’ he asked.

  Jodie wasn’t sure she’d heard him right so she just glanced up and smiled, then looked down again at her material, which she was guiding through the machine.

  She heard Nate exclaim under his breath. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pick up a little stack of squares sitting on the table ready to be pieced. ‘How about I have a go at these?’ he said.