Mountain Ash

by Margareta Osborn

  And forget about the McGregors. Both father and son. Return to a simple life where there was just the two of them. It’d been hard as a single mother. Really hard. The vulnerability, the sheer numbing hard work of bringing up a child on your own. But it was nothing like this.

  She couldn’t compare anything to the mess that was this.

  Chapter 33

  Sucker-punched, Nate staggered out the door. He’d never understood that term until now. He felt like his guts had been wrenched from his belly. He wanted to violently spew. He couldn’t believe it. Just couldn’t comprehend what had been delivered to him in the last half hour. He stumbled across the well-kept lawns towards the fence bordering the gardens and the house paddocks.

  Ash was here. The woman he’d been looking for was here at Glenevelyn. Ash was Jodie. Jodie was Ash. They were one and the same person. The woman Nate had thought was his was in actual fact his father’s new fiancée. His new stepmother.

  And she was pregnant.

  With his father’s baby.

  He sank to his knees and lifted his head to the sky. The wretched feeling in his heart erupted from his mouth as a harsh, gutteral groan. Why? Anyone else but his father. He’d have fought for her then. But it was his fucking father. How could she? How could he? Hadn’t the old man already taken enough from him? His right to live here as a son to his mother? The right to farm alongside his father? The right to his place at Glenevelyn, that by birth should eventually be his? But no, the old man kept taking. Kept spreading his tendrils out like an octopus’s, grabbing at and then taking everything that he wanted. The one woman Nate had thought his heart capable of loving had now been taken from him by Alex fucking McGregor. Like everything else he’d cared about. When would the man ever be happy? When would he ever stop taking?

  And Ash. His Ash. Pregnant to another man. Belonging to another man. Destined to become his stepmother. His godforsaken fucking stepmother.

  He couldn’t believe she slept with his father. Did she get pregnant to deliberately ensnare Alex McGregor? Those friends she was at the rodeo with … they were out to have a good time … had he got her wrong all along? Was she a gold-digger? A tramp? A slut?

  Son of a bitch.

  He slumped on the grass. Stayed there, until a hand landed on his shoulder. Nate barely acknowledged it, so visceral was his anger. His unabridged misery. The agony of his breaking heart.

  ‘Mate?’ The deep voice pierced through Nate’s pain.

  Wal sprawled on the grass beside him, looked out beyond the rolling paddocks to the scrub rising beyond. It was so hot out in the sun that the air was shimmering like there was another world beyond the boundary fences of Glenevelyn. If there was another world out there, it was exactly where Nate wanted to be right now.

  They stayed like that for a while. One as shattered as a man could be; the other silent.

  Until Clem arrived, a six-pack in hand. He sat too, but in the spreading shade of a golden elm. ‘Might pay to get over here,’ was his only comment. Nate heard him, but didn’t want to move. Maybe if he stayed here the sun would melt him into a puddle. He could then seep away down through the river-borne topsoil and never be seen again. His father would be real pleased about that one.

  ‘C’mon, mate.’ Wal grabbed his arm. ‘You need to get into the shade.’

  Nate resisted and Wal tugged at him again, harder this time. The old bloke meant business. He clearly wasn’t going to let Nate suffer sunstroke from his own stupidity.

  What a fucking idiot he was. Falling in love with a woman. The one woman who couldn’t be his.

  ‘C’mon, Nate.’ Wal wouldn’t give up. ‘It’s got to be over forty degrees out here.’

  Eventually Nate scrambled his way to the trunk of Clem’s elm, more for Wal’s sake than his own. He leaned his back against the solid tree, grateful for something to support him. He took the beer offered by his childhood mate. Silently thanked him. He didn’t have a voice.

  ‘Care to tell me what this is all about?’

  Nate popped the top of the can and took a swig. Ice-cold beer washed down his throat. He was grateful for the liquid, but he needed more – lots more – to drown this gut-wrenching misery he was feeling.

  Wal flopped on the grass in front of the other two. Belly to the sky, he flipped his hat over his eyes. Obviously, Wal wasn’t going to answer Clem, which was a bugger. This was Nate’s conversation – if he wanted it to be a conversation. Nate heaved a sigh.

  Finally he said, ‘I know Ash.’

  ‘Ash?’

  ‘He means Jodie,’ said Wal from under his hat.

  ‘Right,’ said Clem. ‘And the problem with that is?’

  Nate tipped his head back, eyes closed. How could he spell this out? He didn’t want to think about it himself. ‘I said I know Jodie.’

  It took Clem a moment. ‘You mean … you know her … as in, like, you’ve slept with her?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘That pretty well sums it up,’ said Wal. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yep,’ said Nate.

  ‘When?’

  Silence. Nate just couldn’t say it. It wouldn’t look good for either him or Ash, who was now Jodie.

  The man pressed on. ‘Does he know?’

  ‘No. And he’s not going to, all right?’

  ‘Settle. I won’t be saying nuthin’. But shit, Nate. Your stepmother.’

  Nate dropped his head again. He wasn’t even going to think about that one. He couldn’t.

  Bees buzzed around the lavender blooming next to the fence. The odd bird, brave enough to weather the heat, twittered. An aeroplane droned overhead, leaving a vapour trail that barely dissipated.

  The three men sat, sucking on cans, wondering how long they could get away with staying out here. Away from the train smash that awaited them inside.

  Finally, Clem stirred. ‘She was more than just a lay, huh?’ It took a few minutes before Nate could find it in himself to respond. He wished he could take himself back to Riverton. Suck it up in a vacuum like it had never happened. She wasn’t the woman he’d imagined she was. It had all been in his head. He’d been building her up to be a fucking goddess when all she was, was a harlot. He wished he’d never met her. Wished he could go back to when life was as complicated as finding a beer and a woman he didn’t care about for the night.

  But in his heart of hearts he knew he didn’t mean it. Ash had come to mean more than that. Just seeing her had tripped off all his instincts again. Conquer the enemy, protect her, love her.

  Fat chance of that now. As Clem said, she was going to be his godforsaken stepmother.

  He groaned.

  Clem’s hand clamped him on the shoulder. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Nate could feel tears welling. He stared at the sky, through the branches above his head. It was a brilliant blue, against the lime yellow of the elm leaves. Just beautiful … like Ash. Oh fucking hell, what a shit-fight.

  He sat and looked up at those glorious yellow leaves, the same shade as Ash’s hair when it shone in the sun. He wondered if his old man knew that.

  There were only two ways to deal with this. He could take it lying down. Or stand up and be a man. Two choices. Two ways to play it. He staggered to his feet. ‘What am I going to do, Clem? I’m going back in there. I’m going to eat and then me and Wal are going to get out of here. Fuck staying around to help them play happy families together. They can have the whole bloody lot on their own. The old bastard probably wants to give it all to the new heir anyway. I don’t want it. It’s been tainted by him. I’ve been saving. I’ve got money from Mum. I’ll go buy some land around Lake Cargelligo, Bourke, or on the edge of the Strzelecki Desert. Maybe even up Barcaldine way. Always liked it out there.’

  Wal grunted. Nate took that to mean he was in.

  ‘You do that, and I’m there,’ said Clem.

  ‘Really?’ Nate couldn’t believe his ears. Clem was a high-country man. He hunted wild dogs and feral c
ats in his spare time. What would he do out on the flat?

  ‘Always wanted to work on a big place,’ said Clem, draining the last of his beer. ‘Plus, you’ll be needing a partner if you’re to buy anything decent.’

  ‘You’d do that for me?’

  Clem held up his hand to show a scar across the pad of his right thumb. ‘Well, we are brothers after all.’

  Nate winced and held up his own left hand to show Wal the matching scar. ‘We decided at the age of twelve that we were Indians. They had more fun than the cowboys and they also became blood brothers.’

  ‘Mum had a fit over the mess,’ said Clem, shaking his head. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Yeah, the little bastard dug the pocket knife in too deep.’ Nate gave a half laugh. ‘He was pissed off I’d run over his BMX with the motorbike.’

  ‘Made a fucking mess of it too. It took me weeks to straighten the frame.’

  Wal was looking at them both, a grin on his mottled lips. ‘You two had a good time growing up, didn’t you?’

  Nate and Clem glanced at each other. Clem stared at the ground so Nate answered for him. Not unlike what he’d done most of their lives. ‘Yeah. We had each other. Not like the poor lonesome bugger my stepmother is currently cooking.’ His face sobered quickly on that thought.

  Clem sighed. ‘At least it’ll have Milly. She’s a great kid.’ Nate had suspected that from his time on the floor with the child. So she not only looked like her mother, she was just as adorab– Nate shut down his brain again.

  ‘Boys?’ It was Mue, calling from the side kitchen door. ‘Lunch is ready!’

  For Wal, it took no second invitation. He was obviously hungry because he took off across the grass like a gazelle.

  For the old Indian blood-brothers it took a few moments longer. They watched as Wal jog-trotted up the steps to greet Mue with a wave and words they could hear where they stood. ‘The other boys are coming. Now, what have you cooked for me, you gorgeous woman …?’

  Nate sighed. Wal just couldn’t help himself with the older women. He was a charmer. No wonder Beryl back in Riverton had been hot to trot. But it would take more than a few smarmy comments like that to sneak under old Mue’s guard. And unfortunately for Wal, he wouldn’t have time to try his moves. After lunch they were out of here. Heading north, back where they’d come from.

  He could feel Clem’s gaze boring into his side. Nate turned to face him. Grimaced.

  ‘You ready?’ asked Clem.

  Nate sighed. His insides curled like they were hay going though baler knotters. He could do this. He had to do this.

  Son of a bitch.

  He gritted his teeth. Slapped on his hat and walked. Head bent, shoulders forwards. Like a man under siege from all quarters. And just like when they were kids, he was glad for the man behind him.

  Clem had his back.

  Chapter 34

  ‘That went well,’ said Alex as he walked away from the fireplace towards the bar. His rear was facing Jodie so she couldn’t see if he was being sarcastic or not.

  Joy obviously thought he was serious. ‘You think? I’d say you just dropped a bomb. A stink bomb.’ She tittered at her own joke and looked for Jodie to join in.

  Laughing was the last thing Jodie felt like doing. She was completely overtaken by the shock and disbelief on Nate’s face. By Alex’s pride as he announced his news. By her daughter’s joy.

  She buried her head in her hands. Why hadn’t she just told the truth? It was what her father had drummed into her from day dot. Tell the truth, wear the consequences of your actions and live with yourself.

  ‘Mum? Are you okay?’ Two little hands patted her cheeks.

  Jodie lifted her head. ‘I’m fine, sweetheart.’

  Milly was still grinning over the prospect of a new baby. ‘So, Mum, if you marry Mr McGregor, does that mean Nate becomes my new brother?’

  Jodie groaned inwardly. What a fucking mess.

  ‘That’s right, Millicent,’ said Joy. ‘He’ll be your stepbrother, the baby’s half-brother and your mother’s stepson.’

  ‘Wow!’ said Milly. ‘He’s all that?’

  Jodie got up off the couch. Milly didn’t need to know the ins and outs of a duck’s bum about this and she didn’t need to sit there like some wounded, helpless female.

  ‘Jodie?’ Alex came racing over from the bar. Placed a caring hand in the small of her back. ‘You should stay on the couch. Let your mother do something for you.’ He stared pointedly at Joy.

  Ha! Fat lot of good that was going to do. And Joy didn’t disappoint her. ‘Oh, Alex, I’m sure Muriel has it all in hand. Sit by me here and tell us how you fell for my daughter. I want to know how she snatched such a good man from under the noses of all the other single women around Narree.’

  Jodie left Alex to it, grabbed hold of Milly’s hand and towed her out of the room towards the kitchen.

  She found Mue sorting lunch. The woman had somehow performed a miracle. She’d found the cold chicken and ham in the fridge. There was a huge green salad sitting on the servery. A bowl of fruit salad, which looked suspiciously as if it had come from tins, was just disappearing into the fridge. A tub of whipped cream followed.

  ‘Need a hand?’ asked Jodie.

  Mue jumped. She’d been so immersed in her work that she hadn’t seen Jodie and Milly enter the kitchen. She swung around and smiled. Jodie so needed that smile. It was reassuring, supporting, loving, accepting.

  ‘No, sweetie, I’m good. How about you call in the me–’ Mue stopped. ‘Argh. Maybe not.’

  ‘It didn’t go well, did it?’ said Jodie, stating the obvious. She forgot Milly was beside her, listening.

  Mue had never been known for mincing her words. ‘No. It didn’t.’ She sighed, fluttering her fingers in the air. ‘He’ll get over it, sweetie. It’s just the shock.’

  ‘I didn’t want Alex to say anything.’ Jodie felt she had to explain. ‘We’re not past the really dangerous period yet.’

  Mue sighed again. ‘Well, what’s done is done. Alex probably should have waited until after the wedding, but now it’s said you can’t take it back.’ She gave a wry grin. ‘The words or the baby.’

  If Mue only knew the whole truth of it.

  But there was no way Jodie was telling anyone that piece of information. The McGregor family was in bad enough shape as it was without adding any more complications. Father. Grandfather. To her own chagrin, the dates were so close it didn’t matter. It was the same bloodline. Surely it didn’t matter?

  ‘Nate’s a sensible boy. He’ll get over it, Jodie,’ said Mue, moving to set out the plates. ‘He’s probably upset he’s lost half his inheritance to a new little bub. Although, he’ll probably leave again now.’ The older woman stared across the lawn to the men sitting under the trees, an unreadable expression on her face.

  Jodie could just see the tops of their hats. Who was she trying to kid? She was deceiving everyone. Herself included. What an appalling person she was. All this deception just so the child had a proper dad. Round and round her mind went. Her father had been a stickler for the truth. And so had she – until now.

  But she so didn’t want the same thing to happen to this baby as Milly. A child brought up by carers while her mother worked her arse off to give them a life. And she didn’t want to have to go through single-motherhood for a second time. No, she wasn’t going back there. At least Alex was solid. He was irrevocably here and now.

  ‘Ready to serve up?’ said Mue to Jodie. She moved to the outside door onto the verandah and yelled, ‘Boys? Lunch is ready!’

  Jodie swallowed. Milly was still at her side, wide-eyed, taking everything in. She spoke to her daughter: ‘Time for tucker, sweetie. Want to hand out the plates?’

  Milly nodded and took the pile of crockery Jodie gave her. But before she moved to the servery window, ready for her first customer, she said to her mother, ‘How many weeks has the baby been in there, Mummy?’

  Jodie answered distractedly, ‘Nearly
ten weeks, sweetheart. Now get ready with your plates.’ She moved to the passage then called for her mother and Alex. Was relieved to see them both appear in one piece. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d come out of the living room bearing bruises. Both of them had strong personalities and it could have been a match to the death. But looking at the cat-like smile on her mother’s face and the smug one on Alex’s, she suspected Joy had taken the charming rather than confrontational route she was so experienced at. Exactly the way to deal with Alex.

  His son though?

  Nate was a completely different story. Staring at his handsome face as he came through the kitchen door, she saw that he was a closed shop – and wasn’t likely to open in a hurry.

  At lunch the men ate, drank alcohol and kept their eyes down. Jason and Russell, the station-hands, had begged off, saying they were urgently needed down the river at the pump. Jodie suspected Jason, after his encounter with Alex in the kitchen, had decided the pump was the better option. Or maybe it was her cooking? She wouldn’t have been surprised if it was both.

  Nate was looking only at his plate. Clem and Wal were mumbling at each other about a recent horse purchase one of them had made. Alex was waxing lyrical over some new bull he’d bought and Joy was filling up the conversation spaces with her life on Bribie Island. As if they needed to know about that. But in a weird kind of way, Jodie was grateful for her mother’s self-involved chatter. It took the sharp and angular edges off the atmosphere that permeated the room.

  Jodie followed Nate’s lead and kept her head down, until Wal directed a polite question in her direction. ‘And how far along are you with the baby?’

  She started. What to say? The whole table had stopped talking. All were listening intently as if it was the most important question in the world.

  Alex answered the question. ‘Twelve weeks on Monday, Wallace. Jodie didn’t want me to say anything until twelve, but,’ he spread his hands out wide, ‘seeing it’s so close and we’re all here together, I thought, what’s the harm?’