Moonlight Plains

by Barbara Hannay

  Kitty’s spirits sank further. There could only be two ways to read this. If Luke had met Sally, the meeting had either not gone well, or there’d been no spark at all. Whichever was correct, the result was disappointing.

  But Kitty had never been one to give up easily, and she couldn’t resist putting in a good word for Sally now. ‘I’m sure you’d remember Sally if you’d met her, Luke. She’s such a lovely girl, and so kind to her grandmother. She comes in here at least once a week, sometimes more often, and she always brings her dog with her. We all love –’

  She was interrupted by raised voices outside.

  It was noisy old Bill Gooden from down the hall calling out in his great booming voice, ‘Here she comes! Here comes our dog!’

  Kitty couldn’t have been more delighted. ‘Well, can you believe it? I mention Sally and her dog and that’s probably them now.’ She waved her hand, hurrying Luke. ‘Quickly, scoot out there and ask her to come in. Otherwise we won’t see her till she’s finished reading to Dulcie and that can take ages. You might be gone by then.’

  ‘Gran, I don’t think –’

  ‘Oh, go on, Luke. Don’t be such a spoilsport.’

  With evident reluctance, her grandson rose, but instead of obeying her, he stood looking down at her with his hands resting lightly on his lean hips, a canny knowingness gleaming in his eyes.

  ‘You wouldn’t be trying to play matchmaker, would you, Gran?’

  Stifling a gasp, Kitty managed, miraculously, to keep a straight face. ‘Heavens no, Luke. Give me some credit. I know better than to pull something like that.’

  He paused for a longer moment, apparently assessing her answer, and somehow Kitty managed not to squirm.

  ‘Let me just warn you, dearest grandmother: don’t bother.’ He said this quietly but with surprising firmness. ‘I’m quite capable of finding my own girlfriends, thank you.’

  10

  Sally came to a shocked halt when a tall, masculine figure stepped into the hallway, almost blocking her path.

  ‘Luke? What – what are you doing here?’

  ‘Visiting my grandmother.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course – Kitty Mathieson.’ Sally felt ridiculously flustered and breathless. She pressed her hand to her chest. ‘She – Kitty mentioned you. Sorry. I got such a surprise to see you. I’m used to frail old men with walking frames.’

  Luke nodded without smiling.

  ‘It – it’s such a coincidence that Kitty’s your grandmother.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ He stood tall, with his hands in his jeans pockets, the stance making his shoulders look broader than ever.

  Awkwardness reigned as they eyed each other.

  It was so weird seeing him in this atmosphere; he looked even more attractive than Sally had remembered.

  ‘How are you, Sally?’ he asked at last, quietly and without warmth.

  ‘I – I’m fine, thanks.’ It was a lame thing to say, but Sally couldn’t get her brain into gear.

  Then Jess padded forward, tail wagging madly, and she looked up at Luke with eager hazel eyes, as if she’d found her new best friend.

  ‘Hello there, old blue dog.’ His voice was friendly enough now.

  ‘She didn’t have a name when I got her, so I called her Jess. She just looked like a Jess, like a farm girl.’

  ‘Hi, Jess.’ Luke smiled down at the dog, but he made no attempt to pat her and very quickly he shifted his gaze back to Sally. ‘Gran’s just been telling me about your dog, but I imagined something cute and silky.’

  ‘Like a handbag?’

  He almost smiled. ‘Yeah, I guess. I certainly didn’t expect a cattle dog.’

  ‘I know. I didn’t actually plan to get such an outdoor breed, not when I live in a flat, but Jess’s very elderly. A happy retiree. I don’t think she minds that she can’t chase cattle any more.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. She’d prefer sleeping in the sun.’

  ‘Exactly.’ It was much easier to talk about her dog. ‘I found her at the pound and she had such sad eyes, I couldn’t resist her. She was on death row, only a few days away from being put down.’

  ‘She’s a very lucky dog then.’

  Luke gave Jess an ear scratch, which she loved, and then he looked about him, watching a wizened old man shuffle down the long linoleum corridor. He glanced at the open doorways that offered glimpses of frail old men and women in their beds. ‘I’m surprised they let you bring a dog in here.’

  ‘I was surprised, too. But the staff encouraged me, actually, and everyone here seems to welcome Jess with open arms. They all spoil her. Kitty, your grandmother, loves her.’

  ‘Yes, so she told me.’ Luke gave a stiff nod to the nearby doorway. ‘Speaking of Kitty, she sent me out here to ambush you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sally wondered how Luke felt about that.

  ‘Apparently, she’s very keen for us to meet,’ he said, lowering his voice, but still managing to inject a note of sarcasm.

  ‘I see.’ Sally fiddled with the leather loop on Jess’s lead. ‘So you didn’t set her straight and tell her we’ve already met?’

  Luke looked annoyed by her question. ‘No, not really, and I take it you haven’t either.’

  ‘No.’ Sally had been worried that Kitty would somehow find out the truth that she’d jumped into bed with her grandson and had a lovely time, and then told him thanks, but no thanks.

  How could she explain such wanton behaviour to a ninety-year-old? She couldn’t properly explain it to herself. It didn’t help that she kept remembering the night she’d spent with Luke.

  Over the past fortnight, she’d remembered it rather too often, reliving the surprising excitement and pleasure of being with a sexy new man, and remembering how at ease and happy he’d made her feel. So different from the way she and Josh had been at first.

  Starting out so young, they’d taken years to discover the best ways to please each other, whereas Luke had either amazing instincts or loads of experience. From the moment their lips met, every kiss, every touch, every move had been incredibly right. Blissful . . .

  But beyond all that . . . she’d been thinking about the homestead too, and how much she would have enjoyed writing its story. Projects that captured her imagination had been thin on the ground lately and since Josh’s death, she’d been struggling with her career – along with every other aspect of her life.

  More than once, she’d wished that she hadn’t been quite so hasty in telling Luke they had no future.

  But those moments of regret had been balanced by even bleaker moments when her grief for Josh had reclaimed her, holding her down in its dark, relentless grip. On those days she’d known that she’d done the right thing; she simply wasn’t ready for another relationship.

  ‘So,’ Luke said, frowning as he watched her, ‘do you have time to see Gran now?’ He managed to sound as if he couldn’t care less about her answer.

  A hunched old lady shuffled past them, walking with a wheeler. ‘Hello, Sally!’

  Sally nodded to her. ‘Hello, Alice. How are you today?’

  ‘Hunky-dory,’ the old woman replied with a twinkling smile before she moved on.

  Sally turned back to Luke, who was standing waiting, perfectly still and patient, his hands in his pockets, his eyes watchful but unfriendly: the complete antithesis of the lovely, warm guy she’d met at the ball.

  ‘I’d be happy to see Kitty, Luke, but I don’t want to cause any more awkwardness.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll make excuses for you then, shall I?’

  It was goodbye. Luke Fairburn wasn’t going to be messed around again.

  And that was fair enough. Sally knew this dismissal was what she deserved. More than that, it was sensible. She just wished she didn’t feel quite so bad about it.

  ‘Then again,’ he said, ‘you’d make an old lady very happy if you came in now. You shouldn’t let what’s happened between us interfere in your friendship with Kitty.’

  ‘No, no . .
. of course not.’

  ‘Your visits mean a lot to her, Sally.’ His voice was less gruff, almost conciliatory; the light in his eyes a shade warmer.

  Sally was surprised by the change, but it was all the encouragement she needed. Really, there was no question, was there? Of course she would go in to see Kitty, but nerves knotted her stomach as she and Luke went in together.

  ‘Oh, lovely!’ Kitty seemed excited to see them. ‘So, do you remember Luke now, Sally?’

  Sally prayed that she wasn’t blushing. ‘Yes, of course.’

  She shot a quick glance towards Luke, but his expression was bland, giving nothing away.

  ‘Luke, there are dog biscuits in the drawer here.’ Kitty tapped the dresser with a bony finger.

  Clearly pleased to have a task, Luke found the biscuits, fed one to Jess and spent a few moments engaged in small talk with the dog, giving her another ear scruff. Then, as if feeling a need to orchestrate the scene, he picked up a coin from the dresser and held it out to Sally.

  ‘I brought this to show Gran,’ he said. ‘I found it out at the homestead I’m renovating.’

  ‘Is it American?’ Sally turned it over. ‘Wow, yes, a dollar from 1923. What a find!’

  To Sally’s surprise, Kitty seemed unhappy and retreated into her pillows.

  ‘There were American pilots at the homestead during the war years,’ Luke said, his eyes warning Sally not to give their game away.

  ‘But that’s not nearly as interesting as the fact that Luke’s restoring the homestead to its former glory,’ interposed Kitty.

  ‘How fabulous.’ Sally hoped she sounded suitably surprised. ‘I love old houses.’ Still fingering the coin, she said, ‘And an old place like that is bound to have so many stories.’

  ‘Except there’s not much point in digging up the past,’ Kitty responded dourly. ‘I’m more interested in the future, and seeing the homestead looking its best again.’

  ‘Well, yes, that’s important too.’ Sally found herself walking a diplomatic line. ‘And I’m sure Luke will do a great job.’ She dropped her gaze. If she wasn’t careful Kitty would catch her sneaking extra peeks at Luke.

  Luckily, the coin fascinated her. The head of Liberty was beautiful, and she was intrigued to think it was so old. Ninety years.

  ‘The old stories are fascinating,’ she couldn’t help commenting as she handed the dollar back to Luke.

  ‘Gran was at Moonlight Plains during the war when the airmen crashed there.’ Luke tossed the coin a little way into the air and caught it.

  ‘Now that would make a great story.’ Sally was surprised that Luke didn’t glare at her for saying this. After all, he’d been quite definite he wanted her to drop her story ideas.

  Kitty was shaking her head. ‘Don’t bother with the war, Sally. There were so many plane crashes in North Queensland back then. Two more won’t make much of a story. I’d rather see you write something about Luke’s renovations.’

  This was getting tricky. Sally deliberately avoided eye contact with Luke.

  ‘Maybe you should come out and see the place some time,’ he said casually.

  Zap!

  Sally stared at him. It was quite possible she was gaping as flashes of shock zigzagged under her skin. His suggestion was so totally unexpected it caught her wrong-footed. She tried to cover her shock with a smile, but it was a very shaky attempt.

  Kitty, on the other hand, was beaming. ‘What an excellent idea. You’d love Moonlight Plains, Sally. And you could take Jess. She’d love it out there too.’

  A cautious glance in Luke’s direction showed that his face was deadpan.

  ‘Think about it, anyway,’ he said casually, with the hint of a shrug.

  It was clear he was opening a door, a very surprising but enticing door . . . Sally couldn’t be sure if he was just being friendly or if he’d changed his mind about the story. Or was there more to it, some other clue she hadn’t picked up?

  ‘I’ll certainly give it some thought,’ she said.

  Luke was watching her carefully now, as carefully as she was watching him, and she wondered what sort of messages their searching glances were sending to his inquisitive grandmother.

  ‘You must take Luke’s phone number,’ Kitty enthused. ‘Luke, write it down for her.’

  ‘No need. Here’s my phone.’ Sally whipped it from her shoulder bag and handed it to Luke, making only the briefest eye contact.

  It was impossible to read his thoughts as he keyed in his number, but she knew it was likely that this whole exercise was nothing more than a charade to keep his grandmother off his back.

  One thing was certain – she wouldn’t return to Moonlight Plains unless she and Luke laid down some crystal-clear ground rules.

  Kitty lay with her eyes closed. Sally had left to visit her grandmother in the secure wing and Luke had said his goodbyes, and Kitty was exhausted.

  She’d put far too much energy into willing those two young people together, but now that she’d achieved her long-cherished hope, she was afraid it might backfire on her. Sally seemed as interested in the war story as she did in Luke’s restoration, and the girl’s curiosity plus her journalist’s instincts could stir things up . . . things that Kitty wanted to leave buried and forgotten . . .

  I’ll have to play my cards close to my chest . . .

  As she at last drifted off to sleep, however, it wasn’t Luke and Sally who floated into her vision. It was Ed . . . and Bobby Kowalski . . .

  11

  Moonlight Plains, 1942

  After Ed left the homestead, heading off with a lantern to light his way through the pitch-black, rain-lashed night, Kitty had to keep busy. She lit a fi re in the kitchen stove and hung the airmen’s flying jackets over the backs of two wooden chairs to dry. She set their neatly folded helmets and goggles on the dresser, then decided to heat water.

  She wasn’t at all sure about the dos and don’ts of caring for injuries like Bobby’s, but she would try to give him a few sips of well-sugared tea. And perhaps a little arrowroot biscuit soaked in water.

  She had left a kerosene lamp burning low on the dressing table in the bedroom, and when she returned, she was very surprised to find Bobby awake.

  ‘Hey there, sleepy head,’ she said.

  Bobby stared at her for a long moment and then his mouth twisted in a lopsided grin. ‘I don’t know how I got here, but I guess I should move over, and make room for you.’

  ‘Don’t you dare move,’ Kitty chided gently. ‘You’ve hurt your chest, and I want you to lie very still while I clean you up.’

  Setting a cup of tea and a bowl of warm water on the marble-topped bedside table, she sprinkled a washcloth with drops of lavender, then soaked it and wrung out the excess. Gently, she bathed Bobby’s face and neck, taking great care not to put any pressure on his bruised chest.

  ‘Thanks, angel,’ he murmured, letting his eyes drift shut again.

  ‘My name’s Kitty,’ she said, not sure that Bobby should be talking about angels at such a time.

  He gave a slight shake of his head. ‘I wanna call you Angel.’

  Kitty let this slide. ‘I thought you might be thirsty. Would you like a little tea?’ She picked up the cup.

  His blue eyes opened to a squint and he frowned at the teacup in her hands.

  ‘I know you Americans prefer coffee, but I’m afraid we don’t have any. This is nice, hot tea – well, not too hot – with plenty of sugar to give you strength. Let’s give it a try.’

  She dipped a spoon into the cup and held it to Bobby’s lips, tilting it carefully, hoping she didn’t make him cough. She was sure it would be agony for him to cough.

  Obediently, he swallowed the tea, but after only a few sips, he was exhausted from the effort and sank back against the pillows with his eyes closed. His lips were very pale and faint beads of sweat gleamed on his forehead.

  Alarmed, Kitty set the cup back on the bedside table.

  ‘Are you feeling too hot? Or too
cold?’ she asked softly.

  Bobby gave a faint shake of his head.

  ‘Please, tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.’

  ‘Just stay with me, Angel.’

  There was an old bentwood chair in the corner. Until now, Kitty had only ever flung clothes over it, but she drew it close to the bed and sat down. Outside, the rain continued to fall, drumming on the iron roof in a monotonous downpour, and she wondered how far Ed had walked. Had he managed to get across the creek yet?

  As if Bobby could read her mind, he said, ‘Where’s Ed?’

  ‘He’s gone to fetch a doctor.’

  ‘So you’ve a vehicle?’

  ‘No, he’s on foot.’

  ‘But hell, it’s too far. There aren’t any houses for miles around.’ Even though his eyes were still closed, Bobby’s forehead was furrowed in a deep frown. ‘We could see that from the air.’

  ‘Yes, well . . .’ Kitty knew she wouldn’t help Bobby by casting doubt on Ed’s efforts.

  ‘S’pose he’s managed to blame himself for the crash,’ Bobby said next. ‘Wasn’t his fault. He can’t take the blame just because he outranks me.’ Now he began to pick at his bedclothes with anxious, stabbing motions. ‘We ran into a storm and it drove us inland and then we ran out of fuel.’

  Kitty was alarmed by Bobby’s agitation. It couldn’t be good for him. His voice was getting hoarse and she was terrified he’d make himself cough if he talked too much.

  ‘Don’t worry. You’re safe now. I’m sure Ed will get help.’

  ‘Of course – he’s the prince,’ Bobby said next.

  ‘A prince?’

  ‘That’s his nickname. The prince. Born to lead.’

  She patted his hand. ‘Shh . . . don’t try to talk. You need to rest.’

  ‘No, but it’s true,’ Bobby insisted. ‘Ed’s a Boston blueblood. Family goes back to the Mayflower. Rich as Croesus.’

  ‘Shh, Bobby. Please, rest now.’

  In spite of the rain, it was a warm night, but Bobby’s skin was cold and clammy. Kitty wondered which was more dangerous – being cold or burning up. She collected another blanket from the cupboard in the hall and tucked it around him. He seemed to be asleep, so she sat again, quietly watching and worrying, listening to the rain.