The House On Burra Burra Lane

by Jones, Jennie

  Mrs J shrugged that off. ‘There was no need for payback, Ethan, but it’s what you’ve always done anyway. I’m impressed by you this evening.’

  ‘But?’

  Mrs J pinpointed Sammy with her finger, her gaze not budging from Ethan’s. ‘It’s time you got that woman into your life on a permanent basis. That’s what would make your mother happy, and that’s what I wanted to say.’

  ‘Well thank you again,’ Ethan said. ‘Perhaps that’s what I’m trying to do.’

  ‘Funny way of showing it.’

  ‘Damn it to hell! Is nothing sacred in this town?’ Ethan turned away, breathing deeply. ‘And there goes another two dollars.’

  ‘Is this getting out of hand?’ Sammy asked.

  Grandy chuckled. ‘Not by my count.’

  ‘Alright,’ Ethan said, turning back to the crowd. ‘Here it is. Listen up good. Thomas Granger was a bad man, my brother Robert was a bad man. I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough … ’

  ‘Ethan.’ Mrs J put a hand out.

  ‘It wasn’t enough because nothing would have been enough to get Thomas Granger, my brother Robert or his girlfriend Carla back on the straight and narrow. Nothing. I married Carla because I felt sorry for her. She didn’t like me, never did. I didn’t love her, but I hoped to make her life a bit easier. It didn’t work. End of story.’

  ‘Then why are you suddenly doing all this? Expanding your business, taking on our kids.’

  Ethan looked at Mrs Johnson as though she’d jumped off the moon with a rocket firing in each hand. ‘Because I’m going to marry Sammy and that’s what she’d want.’

  Grandy took hold of Sammy’s hand. ‘Stay standing,’ he murmured.

  ‘Well that sounds fine. Well done, Ethan. Have you told her?’

  Ethan swung around to face Sammy and Grandy. ‘You,’ he said, pointing a finger at Sammy. ‘Stay there. Don’t move.’

  Sammy battened down every impulse to sink to the ground. There was no way she was leaving, and she was going to stay upright.

  ‘That’s the end of the bet then,’ the grumbler behind young Mr Morelly said. ‘Have to end the wager. Start on something else— since I got a tenner spare.’

  Ethan flipped his coat over his hip, dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. ‘You want a bet on something? Here … ’ He moved to the noticeboard at the side of Kookaburra’s doors, people tripping over each other to get out of his way.

  He stuck something to the board with a pin and stepped back. ‘One hundred dollars says Sammy Walker is my wife by the end of the year. Frank, I trust you’ll do the usual?’

  ‘I certainly will, Ethan. Be my pleasure.’

  Sammy was so stiff that if she fell now she’d hit the ground like a plank of wood.

  Ethan came down the steps and walked towards her. ‘You weren’t supposed to hear that last bit.’ He stopped in front of her.

  She folded her arms in case they grabbed hold of him. ‘Well,’ she said, settling into a Mary Munroe stance. ‘I heard it. And I’d like an explanation please.’

  ‘You’ll get it.’

  Her breath got trapped in her throat for a moment. ‘When?’ she managed.

  Grandy stepped aside.

  ‘As you heard,’ Ethan said, ‘I’ve got some things to think through before I have a conversation with you about what I want from you.’

  Something hot hit the back of Sammy’s eyes. Not tears; wonder.

  ‘Damn it, Sammy, don’t look at me like that! You’re costing me dollars.’

  She swallowed.

  ‘It’s your eyes,’ he said, his voice hushed. ‘I love them and this is not the time to tell you that. Blink or something, would you?’

  She pulled a deep breath, blinked rapidly. ‘What things have you got to say to me?’

  He paused, as though he hadn’t expected the question. Then he leaned close. ‘I’ll be reminding you of everything we’ve felt and haven’t voiced. Every look we’ve shared, everything we’ve done together since that first day you came into my surgery. So be ready for it, because it’s heading your way.’

  Sammy nodded. ‘Okay.’

  He shifted his weight to his other hip and stared her in the eye. ‘You flew into my world and took my breath away.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘I’ve got a whole list of reasons why you should take me back.’ He aimed his hand at her, his index finger not exactly pointed, but the same intent. ‘And I’ve got an answer to every argument you make about it. Do you hear me?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘I’m in love with you and I’ll be telling you why in my own time with my own words.’

  Poetry. Nobody had ever written such wonderful stanzas.

  ‘And there’ll be actions to go with those words, and you’ll be still, quiet, and you will listen.’

  ‘Okay, I hear you.’ She was worth this much? Wow. She must be terrific.

  ‘I’m lost without you and I’m going to ring every bell in town until I get what I want. Sometime this year, Samantha Walker, you and I are getting married.’

  Her name had never sounded so glorious.

  The night stilled, the only sound in her head the chirping of crickets and the beat of her heart. Nobody moved outside the Bar & Grill.

  ‘Now get in the truck,’ Ethan said. ‘I’m taking you home.’ He turned, his coat tails flying as he strode down the darkened street; the lamplight puddled on the ground. He was flooded in moonlight.

  ‘Sexy stuff,’ Sammy murmured.

  Grandy gave her a shove. ‘Now would be a good time to follow him.’

  Twenty-Four

  When Sammy got into the truck he’d already started the engine, had the heater on and the headlights were showing the road home. ‘Are we talking now?’ she asked as she fastened her seatbelt.

  ‘No.’ It wasn’t a curt response—he said it softly, but resolutely.

  She moistened her mouth. ‘I’d like to speak—’

  ‘Not tonight,’ he interrupted. ‘Tomorrow. I’ve got a lot to say and I don’t want to get any of it wrong.’

  Hadn’t he just said it all? She sat back and willed herself to patience.

  When he pulled up at her house, she undid her seatbelt, unsure whether to speak again or not, then unable to stop herself. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For looking after my mother tonight.’ Nowhere near enough. She had thousands of words in her head. ‘And for looking after me.’

  He glanced at her, caught her gaze. ‘Stay there.’ He got out of the truck, came around to her side, and opened her door. He lifted his chin and held out his arms. ‘Come on.’

  She turned on her seat. Was he going to hold her now and tell her everything he felt for her? ‘Are we going to talk now?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going to carry you. You haven’t got your shoes on, Sammy. This is a gravel path.’

  Smugness and joy engulfed her. Her smile was so wide it instantly hurt her cheeks. Her wonderful hero wasn’t ready to talk about love, but he was lovingly concerned about her feet.

  She put her hands to his shoulders. He lifted her swiftly and walked up the gravel path.

  Desperate to lean her face against his shoulder, but knowing he needed time to think his thoughts through, she resisted.

  He let her down at the door. ‘Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. I’ll be here.’

  ‘Alright.’

  ‘Lock the door.’

  ‘I will.’ She never locked the door, but it made sense to do so tonight. Her mother was safe with Mr and Mrs Capper and Oliver wouldn’t come back to town in a hurry after the embarrassment he’d undergone in front of everyone, but since the evening had produced far more astonishing insights into people than she’d expected—it was best to lock herself in the house. Just in case.

  ‘Goodnight, Sammy.’

  So studiously concerned about her wellbeing. ‘Goodnight, Ethan.’

  He nodded, and turned for the truck.

  In her bedr
oom, she went to the windows to close the drapes. His truck was winding its way down her driveway, and she paused to watch him go. She cocked her head to one side when the truck stopped by her mailbox. It backed up a little, and turned until it sat across the end of her driveway. The headlights went out, the engine cut out. It blocked anything…or anyone who tried to enter.

  She stepped away from the window. How was she going to get any sleep?

  Sammy yawned, and stretched beneath the warmth of her bedcovers. She’d spent the comfiest night ever after all, cuddled up in what she knew was the point where her new life began. Her real life—the one she’d been searching for and hoping for, never expecting to find it so soon. She had gone through so much heartache and emotional struggle to get it and it was worth every moment.

  With joy bursting in her chest like a fountain of spring rain as Ethan’s truck fired up, she flung back the covers and padded to the window. She peeked through the drapes, blinking and adjusting her vision to the morning darkness, only a hint of dawn shedding a pale light on the land.

  Ethan’s ute was still at the bottom of her driveway. The tail-lights came on. It moved forwards, swinging into Burra Burra Lane, heading towards All Seasons Road.

  He’d be going home now, to take a shower and get changed before he arrived back at 8 am, after staying there all night, protecting her.

  She turned from the window, walked to her wardrobe, grabbing a little bedroom chair on the way. She stood on the chair, reached up and dragged the box of city clothes from the top shelf. She hopped down, put it on the bed, untied the string and lifted the lid. Digging deep down, between silks and cashmere, she pulled out what she wanted, and smiled.

  With ermine and diamonds on her mind, she headed for the bathroom.

  At the end of Burra Burra Lane, Sammy turned left into All Seasons Road. It was the warmest morning she had yet encountered in the eleven weeks she’d been in town. The sky was still dark but the sun peeked over the horizon shedding an orange glow on the road to mark her way. It would rain later, she could tell by the way the clouds sat. Not low with promise, and not high enough to say it wouldn’t happen, but bang in the middle. It struck her that she was indeed becoming a farmer, with such clever insight on reading the clouds.

  She opened her lightweight jacket to let the air shiver inside, and inhaled the glory of the morning.

  She strolled—no, she flowed down the road. She was tall in her flat white pumps and she didn’t object to the tiny stones on the road as they prodded the soles of her feet. She was comforted by the brush of the cornflower-blue cotton skirt against her bare legs, and warmed by the egg-shell colour of her cardigan and the cheerful daisy petals woven through the wool.

  Fresh, honest, simple colours accentuated with the style and choice of cloth. Her clothes made the right statement for what she was doing today. Maybe she’d take a turn in her art too, scoop up some light acrylic paints, use a soft haired brush and do something rash.

  Her skin tingled from fruity soap and fresh air. She felt different. She felt right.

  There was still a way to walk, and she took her time about it. No need to rush, she had a few things to think about.

  She’d need to visit her mother, sort out how Verity would get home and thank Mr and Mrs Capper, pay them for her mother’s room and breakfast. Things between Sammy and her mother would stumble on. Verity would have a lot to say, but Sammy’s news would keep her mother quietened. The protracted and lengthy argument Verity would have been dreaming about giving Sammy all night—what had happened to her, and whose fault it had been—would have to wait. And maybe, Sammy was tempted to think, there wouldn’t be a need of reprimanding words at all. Maybe they’d found that place where they could respect each other.

  As she stepped onto the path that led to the house attached to the veterinarian’s surgery, a sudden lack of courage tripped her up. She stopped, breathed, until her nerves rippled to calm. She moistened her mouth. It was her heart, not her head, that would be talking. She ought to know how it sounded, she’d heard it singing all night.

  She rapped on the door with her knuckles, then had a desperate thought he might not be home.

  He stilled when he opened the door. He didn’t speak, step back, offer to let her inside—or any of the things Sammy had imagined he would do during her walk from her home to his. He simply stared, as though not believing what he was seeing.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said.

  The silence fell heavily between them, but eventually, beneath the quiet that cloaked them, she heard the morning birdsong. ‘Can I come in?’

  His house held a masculine similarity to his surgery. The kitchen warm with wooden cupboards, and clean and tidy with formica benchtops and modern amenities. There was a frosted glass door connecting to the surgery reception.

  Sammy took her time, looking around her; at the smallness and neatness of his kitchen. She’d never been inside his home. There was a hallway behind him, with a coat stand and a hall table, both jarrah and unusual enough in design to tell her he’d made them himself. She hadn’t thought about how he lived. How silly, not to have insisted on visiting before now.

  She looked up at him, ready.

  ‘The sooner you tell me why you’re here, the sooner I can explain how I’m not letting you leave town.’

  ‘Oh?’ she enquired, raising her brow. ‘How, or why?’ Then before he could answer, ’You think I’m leaving town?’

  He opened his mouth but didn’t speak straight away. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’

  ‘I’m not leaving, Ethan, I was never going to leave.’ She’d reached the first stage; he looked dumbfounded. ‘Is that what you expected? That I would run from you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I was going to leave … if there was any leaving to be done.’

  She tutted. ‘That’s running away. Did your head tell you to do that, or your heart?’

  He narrowed his eyes, not in anger or misunderstanding, but as though he had a thirst for more knowledge. Second stage.

  Sammy took her jacket off, threw it over a stool at the breakfast bar.

  He glanced at it, seemed to drag his gaze back to her face. He looked into her eyes, and then down to the scooped neckline of her cardigan. He pondered that for a bit then looked down to her skirt, her knees, her legs, and her feet. ‘You look different.’

  ‘I found the real me.’

  He met her gaze, and the flicker in his eye accepted the challenge, although she knew he didn’t know for sure what it might be.

  She held her arms apart. ‘Do you like me? I think I say … country girl in the making but still citified enough to want to wear a designer skirt and smart cardigan.’

  ‘I’ve always liked you.’

  She spun around. ‘I didn’t tie my hair up either, and I let it curl. You like it curling and loose, don’t you?’

  ‘What are you doing, Sammy?’

  ‘I’m showing you the goods, Ethan, so that you have a chance to think about how you feel about the new me, because I’m a changed woman from the one outside Kookaburra’s last night.’

  He breathed, low in his diaphragm. Then he waited, as Sammy had known he would. Stage three.

  ‘Are you going to chase me around your kitchen?’

  ‘Don’t push me, Sammy. I mean business, and I mean to get on with it.’

  She widened her eyes. ‘So why weren’t you beating at my door at 6 am? What’s a girl supposed to think, having to trudge through the dark to get to your place?’

  ‘You walked here?’ He glanced out of the window, where the misty, nectarine sun was nearly full beam over the fields.

  ‘Of course I walked. I didn’t want my old car backfiring and waking you up.’

  He looked back, eyes keen. ‘I’ve been up all night.’

  ‘I know. You stayed all night at the end of my driveway.’

  ‘You were safe, I made sure of it.’

  ‘I know. Did you think about me as you sat in the truck?’


  ‘Sammy … ’ There was a plea in his tone. ‘Just give me a second.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Of course I thought about you.’ He ground his teeth, clenched his jaw. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to see me.’

  ‘I was supposed to come and see you.’

  ‘I couldn’t wait that long. I thought about you as soon as I woke up.’

  He paused then, physically adjusting his facial features. He relaxed his brow, releasing the creases at the side of his eyes. ‘Is this shaping up to something I might be happy about?’

  ‘All depends on what makes you happy.’

  ‘You make me happy.’

  There was no way she could look away from his blistering summer gaze. ‘I’d like to see that list you spoke of, before I commit to anything.’

  Look at him, just look at him.

  His chest expanded as he took a deep, pondering breath, the shirt buttons nearly popping. ‘I had things planned … things I wanted to say, and you’ve thrown me.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll give you a moment, then. To settle yourself into it.’

  ‘I don’t want to wait another moment.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  He was struggling with his control, his shirt stretched to the limit. ‘You’re making it hard for me,’ he said at last. ‘I understand. Don’t blame you.’

  ‘There’s nothing harder, is there?’

  ‘Than what?’

  ‘Than explaining to a person how much they mean to you. How your life isn’t the same without them.’

  ‘You just took the words out of my mouth.’ He stepped forwards, close enough that she could reach up and kiss him.

  ‘Thought it might be quicker that way.’

  His eyes darkened. He pulled what might have been the beginning of a smile into line. ‘The anger, Sammy, the anger I had—it’s not real.’ He shut his eyes for a second. ‘I mean, it was real enough but I was annoyed and frustrated, not angry. Not brutally angry. I just let myself wallow in it—because I couldn’t find you.’

  ‘I know that. I’m sorry I hid from you. I did it on purpose.’

  ‘I don’t blame you.’ He swallowed. ‘I’ve got so many extraordinary things to tell you, it’s going to bowl you over.’ He took a breath. ‘At least … I hope it’s going to bowl you over.’