When they’d filled the tray, she pulled off her gloves and helped him secure the load using a small tarp and a stiff nylon rope he’d found in his father’s shed. ‘Two half-hitches. Awesome,’ he said, taken aback by her speed and dexterity.
‘Dull I might be, but I have certain skills,’ she said as she reached up to refasten her hair.
‘So I see,’ he said.
‘And I’m not always dull.’
He chuckled at her truculent tone. ‘I bet you’re not,’ he answered, his voice low, and his amusement intensified when her blue eyes widened. On impulse he reached out and with his thumb wiped a smudge of dirt from her chin.
She jumped back as if she’d been burned.
‘You had dirt on your chin,’ he said slowly, gently, taking his cue and backing off. He wouldn’t let on that her jumpiness had startled him.
‘Oh.’ She swiped at it with the back of her hand.
He took the rake and propped it against the shed where he’d found it. When he turned around she was still standing beside the ute and his gut gave a surprising twist when he saw the perplexed look on her face. ‘Laura? What’s the matter? Is it something I did?’
She held up a hand as if to ward him off, shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was his turn to look perplexed. ‘For what?’
‘It’s just —’ She paused, fiddling with the gloves, her eyes darting all over the place, looking everywhere but at him. She moistened her lips, closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
He’d obviously upset her. And to make matters worse he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her glistening mouth, the way she was biting at the fleshy part of her bottom lip. He’d never taken much notice of her mouth before. He’d noticed plenty of other things about her. But here was her mouth, delicious, rosy pink and plump, the bottom lip full without being pouty. His mouth went dry and his blood rushed south. He blinked and ripped his gaze away when she opened her eyes.
When he looked back she’d drawn herself up to her full height, all cool and composed, and he could have been forgiven for thinking he’d imagined the flustered woman of moments before.
‘Come inside and I’ll show you where you can wash your hands, and I’ll make you a coffee. That was the deal.’
He dragged his hand through his hair, shook his head in bemusement and followed her in, not even trying to stop himself from watching her firm but curvy backside, and the graceful sway of her hips, as she preceded him up the path.
This cannot be happening. Laura’s cheeks flamed as she filled the water container on the coffee machine. She could hear him in the bathroom, washing his hands. He’d be back in the kitchen any minute. When he’d swiped at the dirt on her chin and her mouth had gone dry and her heart had begun to race, she hadn’t tried to fool herself. What she felt wasn’t anxiety. She was attracted to him. She slammed a coffee pod into the machine, pressed the back of her hand to her burning cheeks.
‘Your toilet needs a new washer, and so does the cold-water tap on the handbasin.’
She spun around at the sound of his voice. His hair looked as if he’d wet it and finger-combed it, and there were splashes of water down the front of his t-shirt. He almost took up the whole doorway.
‘I know.’ The words came out like a croak. ‘I’ve never changed tap washers before, or fixed a toilet cistern. And it’s not easy getting a plumber. I’ve tried.’
He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. ‘Maybe Gavin could do it for you. You know you’d be wasting litres of water every day.’
‘I do realise that.’
‘I was just saying. I’ve been in a lot of places where water is very scarce, and I have a thing about it being wasted.’
Laura gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening around the mug in her hand. ‘For your information, Gavin’s away for a month. He’s gone to Roxby Downs to work. I’ve phoned the local plumber three times and left messages, but he hasn’t had the courtesy to call me back.’
She put his coffee in front of him and the mug hit the tabletop with a crack.
‘Sorry,’ she said. Damn. She could have broken one of her aunt’s treasured mugs. Taking a tin of biscuits off the dresser, Laura carefully sat it down beside his coffee.
‘They look homemade,’ he said.
‘They are. Peanut butter and chocolate chip.’
He bit one in half and chewed slowly. ‘This is good. You bake as well as renovate houses – and you can tie knots. I am impressed.’
She sat down at the opposite end of the table, as far away from him as she could. ‘My mother, my grandmother and my great-aunt were persistent teachers,’ she said. ‘Alice and I left home with a repertoire of home-making skills.’
‘Any brothers?’
‘No brothers and no other sisters.’ She reached for a biscuit and looked down at it in her hands. ‘I’ve put on three kilos in the last month. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had to eat to gain weight.’
‘What happened?’ he blurted.
She crumbled the edge of the biscuit, and then scraped the crumbs into a tiny heap. When she raised her head his eyes caught and held hers.
‘Two years ago my mother died of cancer, and a few weeks later my husband, Brett, was killed in a workplace accident. He was electrocuted.’ She hesitated, suddenly beset by misgivings. She could count on one hand the number of people she’d shared her story with.
‘And?’ Jake said quietly.
‘I thought I was coping, focussing on my work, and then, well, let’s just say about six months ago things started coming apart at the seams. I realised I wasn’t doing so well at all.’
‘Hence the break, in Potters Junction, of all places.’
‘Yes, the break. Surely this place isn’t that bad.’
Jake frowned.
‘Well, I can’t complain so far,’ she said.
‘That would have been tough. Losing your mum and then your husband.’ Jake was stilled by the news.
‘It was tough.’ Her eyes flicked to his. ‘But my break is doing me the world of good. The lifestyle and pace of this place seem to suit me. I’m doing okay. I’m better each day, I think.’
‘I’m sure you are, Laura. Neill does nothing but sing your praises.’
‘That’s very kind of him,’ she said. ‘He has become a good friend.’
When they’d finished their coffees, Jake snapped the lid on the biscuit tin and stood up. He stacked his mug in the sink with her breakfast dishes. ‘Thanks for the morning tea. I’d better get on with it. Haven’t really made a dent in the junk he’s got in that shed and we’re out to Jess’s for dinner tonight.’
‘It’ll be a big day for Neill but I bet he’s loving having all of you together. With your dad the way he is I imagine you’d all want as much family time together as you can get.’
‘Something like that,’ Jake muttered. His response was just loud enough for Laura to hear but clearly not intended for her ears, and it had her wondering if all was well in the Finlay family. With a small frown creasing her brow she followed him out.
‘Jake,’ she said and he stopped, turning to face her. ‘Thanks for your help, I really have appreciated it. I can do most things myself but sometimes . . .’
‘All in a day’s work,’ he said.
Moments later the gate closed behind him and Laura sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he was only around for a couple more days. The effect he had on her equilibrium was disconcerting.
Jess was in a panic. Jake and her father were coming to dinner in eight hours’ time and the house was a mess. The only meat she had in the freezers was lamb and she’d forgotten to take a leg out to thaw. The night before when she’d told Darren they were coming and could he please be home, he’d just grunted and gone out. Her dad hadn’t been out for a meal in God-knew-how-long and Jake hadn’t been near the place in years. She wanted everything to be perfect and the fact that everything was far from perfect had bitter tears burning in the back of her throat.
<
br /> Nine-fifty a.m. Jess would drink her coffee and let her pity-fest run another ten minutes, and then she’d get on and do the best with what she had. It was a skill she’d honed over the last couple of years.
After all, the boys would be rapt to see their Uncle Jake again, and their excitement would help counteract the family animosities that always bubbled just below the surface. She’d given up hoping Darren and her father would ever have anything civil to say to each other, or that she’d ever understand what had caused the bad blood between Jake and Neill. Roll on six o’clock, she thought.
In the end it wasn’t the complete disaster she’d imagined. Darren showed up at five and showered and changed without being prompted. He had only one beer and helped the boys with their homework while she put the finishing touches on the meal – lamb chops with vegetables, and a rhubarb crumble and custard for dessert.
At the dinner table Sam peppered Jake with questions about his travels while Mikey sat wide-eyed. Darren barely said a word, and made up for the beers he hadn’t had before the meal.
‘Where do you go next?’ Sam asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes bright. ‘And did you bring all your cameras with you to Poppa’s?’
‘Sorry, Sam, they don’t fit on the back of the bike. I left them in Melbourne, and some of my gear is still in Istanbul.’
‘Wow! That’s in Turkey, isn’t it? Is that where you’re going after you leave Poppa’s?’
‘Sure is. If we get the funding to do the second documentary. If not, I’m not sure where I’ll be next.’
‘But what about your gear? Don’t you have to go and get it?’
‘Isn’t it kind of dangerous over there now?’ Jess said and felt everyone’s eyes turn to her. ‘We’re always hearing about journalists and cameramen in the region being taken hostage, or thrown into gaol on trumped-up charges.’
Jake wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, pushed back his empty dinner plate. ‘I don’t know that it’s any more dangerous than it has been in the last couple of years,’ he said and Jess snorted in disbelief.
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ Neill said from the other end of the table. ‘If what you say is true, it makes a mockery of all the stuff we hear and read in the media day after day.’
Jess’s attention shifted from her father to her brother. Jake’s mouth tightened, and then Mikey piped up. ‘When can I go for a ride on your motorbike, Uncle Jake?’
‘I dunno, mate. It’s a pretty big bike, takes a lot of muscle to hold it up.’
Mikey held out his arm, flexed it. ‘I’ve got muscles,’ he said and the tension in the room dissipated as quickly as it had built.
‘Even if you were big enough to ride it there won’t be time, Mikey. We’ve got school tomorrow and Uncle Jake goes again on Saturday,’ said Sam.
Mikey pouted, poking the peas around his plate with his finger.
‘Stop that and eat the damn things, or you won’t get any dessert,’ Darren said, glaring at his son. Mikey picked up his fork and stabbed at the peas.
‘You’re definitely leaving on the weekend,’ Jess confirmed.
‘Yep,’ Jake said. The clipped syllable didn’t invite discussion or negotiation.
She stood up and started collecting the empty plates. When she came to her father, his food had barely been touched.
‘Sorry, love. Thanks for going to all that trouble but I just don’t have the appetite I used to.’
She touched his shoulder. ‘That’s okay, Dad. I shouldn’t have given you so much. Would you like a small serve of dessert? It’s rhubarb crumble, one of your favourites.’
Neill reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Just a very small serve,’ he said.
When she looked up she found Jake staring at them both. The desolation she saw in his eyes stunned her. He looked away quickly.
Turning her back to stack the crockery on the sink, Jess frowned. What on earth was going on with Jake? That was real pain she’d seen in his eyes. Whatever the cause, he needed to make peace with his father before it was too late. He hadn’t given himself much time to do it, and if the palpable tension between the two men was anything to go by, he hadn’t made any inroads yet. Jess chewed on her bottom lip as she laid out the bowls and began spooning in the rhubarb crumble.
Jake heard a door slam, then the crunch of footsteps across gravel and moments later the tinny clink of Laura’s front gate. Noise carried in the stillness of early morning. He’d been awake for hours, lying in the narrow single bed, both thinking and trying not to think, while watching the first light seep in through the curtains.
Last night’s family dinner hadn’t exactly been a roaring success. However, it could have been worse. There’d been no overt bickering and the meal was good. Jess had always been a top cook. She’d had to learn fast in the days after their mother had left. By age twelve she could knock up a decent roast dinner with all the trimmings. And apple pie for dessert.
The only people who’d seemed to really enjoy themselves had been the boys. Sam was a thinker and you never knew what he was going to come out with next, and Mikey was a pocket rocket. But typically Darren had barely said boo all night, and had steadily worked his way through a six-pack of beer. Jake hadn’t missed the anxious looks thrown Darren’s way by Jess.
He’d never connected with Darren. On the few occasions they’d been together over the years they’d always been civil to each other, but Jake had no interest in the farm and Darren had shown no interest in Jake’s life. If there were problems in the marriage, well, Jake wasn’t sure he needed to know. He didn’t want to see his sister unhappy . . . But there wasn’t much he could do from the other side of the world, was there?
He stretched, propped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. It always felt strange going back to the farm. It had felt even weirder driving back there in the ute with the old man sitting beside him, particularly given the neglected state of the place. In their monthly phone calls, Jess had never given any indication the place had deteriorated the way it had. Jake had been taken aback by the bare paddocks where crops should have been and he knew by the old man’s grim expression that he hadn’t missed anything either. Neill said he’d enjoyed himself but he’d been so depleted when they arrived home that Jake had practically had to carry him in from the ute.
With a sigh he tossed back the bedclothes and got up, dragging on shorts and t-shirt before pulling on socks and running shoes. Laura had left the dog for him and Skip barked when Jake crept out the back door.
‘Shut up, Skip,’ he whispered, not wanting to wake Neill. He unchained the dog and didn’t bother with stretches. Laura had had a good head start already and he was going to enjoy coming up behind her again, admiring her backside as he pounded along the dirt road towards her. Nice legs and a nice backside . . . and then there was her mouth. But damn, she was way out of his league. She’d been married, still would be if her husband hadn’t been killed.
There was nothing to stop a man from looking, though, was there?
She was definitely not a woman a man could love and leave . . . He frowned. A bit early in the day for serious thoughts like that. And he’d only be in Potters Junction another day, hardly enough time to get serious about anything. He stepped over the front gate and Skip bounded over the fence after him. Bugger. He probably shouldn’t be teaching the dog bad habits.
When he caught up with her, Laura was halfway to the spot where he’d run her off the road. She shot a quick look over her shoulder when the dog raced past and he fell into step beside her.
He could hear Laura’s steady, even breathing. Casting his eyes sideways, he saw sweat beginning to trickle down her temple, missed by her sweatband. It wasn’t much of a mind stretch to imagine sweat trickling down between her breasts – breasts he’d had a tantalising glimpse of the morning before when her robe had fallen open. Slim she might be but she sure had curves in all the right places. Bloody hell . . . Now was definitely not the time. He neede
d his blood supply elsewhere. He focussed on the road in front of them.
As they neared the bend Laura broke the silence. ‘I always turn around up here and go back.’
‘Okay,’ he answered. ‘I’ll keep going for a bit. Catch you on the way back.’ She nodded. He powered off and, after taking a nanosecond to decide, the dog bounded off in front of him.
She’d just hit the bitumen on the outskirts of town when he fell into step beside her again. She’d really been pushing it. Her face was flushed now, sweat beaded above her top lip. He imagined licking it off. When they turned onto the home stretch, instead of peeling off at Neill’s place, he followed her around the corner into her backyard.
‘Don’t want to wake him,’ he said between gulps of air. ‘I reckon I heard him up a couple of times in the night.’
She began her cool-down routine. He kept his eyes forward so he wouldn’t be tempted to eyeball her backside when she leaned forward to stretch. With a curl of self-disgust, he decided he was nothing but a pervert. It wasn’t as if he really liked her, she was way more uptight than the women he usually went for, but for whatever reason he couldn’t seem to stay away from her.
He dropped into one of the cane chairs and slicked back his sweat-soaked hair. Skip slurped noisily from the bucket of rainwater near the tank stand and then paddled his front paws, which left little puddles when he padded over the verandah to drop down beside Jake.
Laura disappeared inside, returning with a towel and two large glasses of water. He took the towel and a glass of water. ‘Thanks,’ he said, taken by her thoughtfulness. She sat down, slowly sipping the cool drink, then put the half-empty glass on the cement beside her. Jake swallowed the water down in a few gulps, mopped his face and hair with the towel.
‘Your leg looks a lot better.’
She angled her thigh so she could see it better. ‘It is. It doesn’t hurt much anymore. It was only superficial, though. It looked worse than it was.’
The Doctor Calling Page 5