Riverboat Point

by Tricia Stringer

“Blake give you a list?”

  “Yep.” Ethan patted his shirt pocket.

  One of the dogs gave a small whine. Ethan looked at the pair of them flicking their watch from him to his father.

  “Inconvenient time for Blake to have an accident,” Mal said, peering under the open bonnet of the old truck. His long hair, almost grey now, pulled back in his customary ponytail, hung out from under his battered hat.

  “I guess so.”

  “The crops are looking the best I’ve seen in a few years. If this warm weather keeps up we might have to bring everything forward.”

  Ethan remained silent. Farming was such a fickle business; wonderful one day, terrible the next. He much preferred working on engines. Things could go wrong with them but they made sense to him. The weather was too unpredictable.

  “Much on the list?”

  Ethan thought about the things Blake had asked him to do. “I haven’t got to the harvester yet but I’ve changed the oil in all the engines, there’s a tyre needs patching and I’ve replaced a couple of hoses.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  Ethan looked at his father but Mal had already turned away, making a show of inspecting the truck’s tyres.

  “Gypsy didn’t need much work,” Ethan said following a few steps behind.

  “Blake keeps it in good shape.” Mal kicked the front tyre with the toe of his boot. “They made them simpler back then.”

  “She’s slow to start, almost misses a beat then she purrs like a kitten.”

  “No.” Mal ran his hand over the rusting front mudguard. “More like an old lioness.”

  They really only kept the old truck to shift field bins from one paddock to another but it had sentimental value as well. When Blake and Ethan were young, Mal and Barb would load it up with camping gear after harvest. They’d drive across country a couple of hours to a beach on Yorke Peninsula where they’d spend two glorious weeks, swimming, crabbing, fishing and living under canvas. Blake had called it their gypsy caravan and the name had stuck. As they got older the two of them had learnt to drive it. Helping his father tinker under the old truck’s bonnet was probably where Ethan developed his interest in engines.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Mal’s question brought him back. Ethan turned to look into his father’s eyes. There was a softness in his face Ethan hadn’t seen for a long time. Was he remembering those good times too?

  “It’s a wonder it still goes after what we put it through.”

  Mal slapped the door of the truck. “They were built to last back then.”

  They were both silent.

  One of the dogs gave a short bark.

  Mal stepped back. “Rust’ll get her eventually,” he said sharply. “Like a cancer, it eats away.”

  He strode back to the ute.

  “Blake’s coming out of hospital tomorrow,” he said when he reached the driver’s door. “He’s busted his arm pretty badly and the burn on his leg was bad. He’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  Mal gave a sharp nod. “Don’t forget to put your hours in.”

  Ethan opened his mouth then closed it again.

  Mal was already climbing into the cab.

  Ethan turned away as the dust from the moving vehicle swirled around him. “Nice talking to you, Dad.” He tapped his hand on the side of the truck. “Where were we, Gypsy?”

  By the time he reached home the cloudy sky was orange and pink and the trees across the river were throwing black shadows over the water. Jasper was pleased to see him. Ethan only locked him up if he was going to be away all day. The enclosure took up most of the space under the house and was kitted out with everything the dog needed.

  “Come on, mate,” Ethan said as he opened the gate.

  He grasped the dog either side of its face and gave it a playful tussle.

  “Let me check on the curry and we’ll go for a quick walk.”

  Ethan could smell the curry before he opened the door. The delicious aroma from the slow cooker made his mouth water. At least tonight he’d be able to eat at a decent hour. He’d put in three full days’ work at the farm since he’d left Blake in the hospital. The first two nights he’d been late home and it had taken a while to prepare his meal. He’d dozed in the chair and then he’d been restless, unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Determined to break that pattern and be more organised, he’d set the curry going before he left this morning.

  He turned the cooker off then filled a glass with water and drank it down in a few gulps. Even though the outside temperature was still warm he picked up his jumper. Once the sun went down the night would quickly turn cold. Just as he stepped out onto his back landing Jasper began to bark in the tone that meant visitors.

  “Damn,” Ethan muttered.

  He looked down the stairs to Jasper who was facing the side fence. Ethan sighed. Not visitors, he was guessing it was Savannah. His back steps were screened from Jaxon’s shack by the little garden shed on Jaxon’s side of the fence. The fence was only chicken wire. There’d been no need for anything permanent. It was just to mark the boundary for the dog.

  “Jasper, sit,” Ethan commanded as he went down the stairs. Once his head was lower than floor level he could see her outline in the fading light. She was standing back from the fence, no doubt wary of Jasper. There was no longer a jungle of weeds on her side. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d come home. She must have had the mower out.

  “You’ve been busy,” he said as he reached ground level. “You managed to start Jaxon’s archaic mower.”

  “It took a while but I got it going.”

  Was that pride in her tone? It was hard to see her face in the gloomy last light of the day.

  “I was just taking Jasper for a walk.”

  “I realise you’re busy but I don’t know when best to catch you,” she said quickly.

  “Do you need something?”

  “No … well, yes.”

  She took a step closer to the fence. Jasper stood up and she hesitated.

  “Sit,” Ethan said. “He won’t hurt you. He’s a big teddy bear.”

  Savannah glanced down at the dog. “I’m not an animal person.”

  Ethan patted the top of Jasper’s head. Surprise, surprise, he thought. Out loud he said, “Drop.”

  Jasper immediately sank to his belly.

  “You need my help?” Ethan asked.

  “Yes.” Savannah stepped a little closer.

  Ethan could see her gaze flick between him and Jasper. The dog remained still.

  “It seems Jaxon’s gone for a while,” she said, “and he’s left me to take care of his houseboat business.”

  “I got that impression.”

  She stepped right up to the fence, her face suddenly lit by the sensor light at the corner of his house. She looked apprehensive. Surely not still about the dog? Jasper hadn’t moved.

  “That’s where I need your help,” she said.

  “Something wrong with one of the engines?”

  “No …” She put her hands to her hips. “I don’t know.”

  Ethan frowned. Now he was confused. “You don’t know?”

  “Damn it.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know anything about houseboats. I don’t know anything about any kind of boat, full stop.”

  Ethan’s frown deepened. “Jaxon said you’d take care of the houseboats.”

  “I can do the paperwork but as far as actually doing things on the boats.” She let out a sharp rush of breath. “I’ve read through the instructions he left me several times and I may as well be reading another language for all the help they are.” She shook her head. “Jaxon can be so unreliable. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

  “Neither do I, I’m afraid,” Ethan replied. That was true enough. Jaxon had said he’d be gone for several weeks but Ethan had never thought of him as unreliable. He’d assumed Jaxon had called on his sister be
cause she could manage in his absence and she had the necessary qualifications. Jaxon had wanted her to take a break from some issues she had in the city. Ethan could understand she wouldn’t want to tinker with motors. That wasn’t for everyone but … He leaned closer. “You’re saying you’ve never driven a houseboat and you know nothing about them?”

  “Nothing. Zero.” She waved her hands back and forth one over the top of the other. “Zilch.”

  “You don’t have a ticket?”

  Lines wrinkled across her forehead. “A ticket for what?”

  “You have to have one to show people how to do turnarounds.”

  “Turnarounds?”

  The puzzlement on her face told him everything. Ethan didn’t like the comings and goings of people and boats so close to his little patch of river, but he hadn’t imagined it would end like this. Jaxon had made a major stuff-up.

  “Did your brother leave a customer list? You’ll have to ring and cancel.”

  “Trust me, I’d like nothing better than to pack up and go home but … I don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

  She took a deep breath. The harsh light highlighted a scar on her forehead just below her hairline he hadn’t noticed before.

  “I don’t know where to start. Jaxon’s left instructions about fuel, sewerage tanks, steering, mooring, cleaning – I think that’s the only thing I understand.”

  “So you want me to …?” Ethan shrugged his shoulders and Jasper stood up. It was dark now and there was no moon, too late for a walk tonight.

  “Jaxon said you knew lots about boat engines.”

  “I’m a mechanic.” It felt good to say that. Mechanic was how he wanted to be known.

  “Do you have this ticket?”

  Ethan hesitated. He had done the training with Jaxon. It had been interesting at the time, something different, but he was only ever meant to be back-up in case of emergency.

  “I was hoping you might be able to show me what he means for me to do.”

  Ethan could see it had taken a lot for her to ask for his help. She looked desperate and even though he wasn’t sure what Jaxon was up to, he was a mate. There was nothing for it but to help.

  “I can try,” he said. “Although it’s probably a bit late to start tonight.”

  “I don’t expect you to do anything now,” she said. “I just wanted to catch you. You don’t seem to be home during the day.”

  “I’m working away at the moment.”

  “Oh.” The worry lines deepened. “The first booking arrives on Monday.”

  “That’s tomorrow.”

  She nodded.

  Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. It felt greasy after being jammed under a hat. One of the downsides of letting it grow longer. He wasn’t sure how this would work. There was still plenty to do at the farm.

  “From what I understand the boat is ready to go,” Savannah said. “But I have to be able to show the people how everything works and how to drive it. In a few days when they come back there will be lots more jobs to do.”

  “I could rearrange things,” Ethan said. “Be here tomorrow to check all’s okay.”

  “And be here when the people arrive?”

  Ethan opened his mouth and closed it again. He could stay home, not go to the farm tomorrow. It didn’t matter to him which days he worked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Thank you.” The relief in her voice hadn’t removed the desperate look from her face. “I’ll leave you in peace. See you in the morning.”

  “Sure,” he said again.

  She turned away then back. “You have a boat licence?”

  “Yes, but you don’t need one for a houseboat. Just as long as you have a driver’s licence.”

  “That’s one tick for me then.” The hint of a smile crossed her face. “Thanks.”

  He watched her disappear from the edge of the light and round the corner. Jasper rubbed his head against Ethan’s leg and he bent to give the dog a pat.

  “What am I getting us into, old mate?”

  CHAPTER

  8

  Savannah was up at first light the next morning. She did a quick work-out, showered and dressed and took her breakfast out onto the verandah. The air was crisp. A bank of fog clung to the river but above it there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  It was the first time since her sleepover in the car that she’d been outside so early. She stared towards the river. Trees began to appear, gradually becoming sharper as the fog slowly dispersed. The colourless sky was turning azure blue; funny how she didn’t remember noticing those kinds of things in the city.

  In the four days since her arrival she’d given the shack a total clean, mowed the rough grass and the lawn, weeded the tiny vegie patch and inspected the sheds. She’d read one of the Matthew Reilly novels from Jaxon’s shelves and rearranged the rest of his books into some kind of order.

  There had been no further sign of mice since the one she’d caught in the trap. The little devil had got past her steel wool. She’d plugged the hole firmly since then. She’d gone over Jaxon’s notes till she knew them by heart and worked out the system in his office. Yesterday she’d taken the keys from the hooks inside the cupboard door and she’d inspected the inside of each houseboat. She was surprised at how well-appointed each one was. They were floating motels with all mod cons. Another revelation had been the name ‘Tawarri’ fixed to the front of the houseboat above the windows. Somehow Jaxon had ended up with the large sign that had originally hung on the gate to their grandparents’ farm. She’d taken her pot of tea and sat on the sundeck of Tawarri, imagining herself on holiday and pondering her little brother’s link to their family heritage.

  A distant bark brought her back to the task at hand. No doubt Ethan was taking his dog for a walk. They hadn’t made a time to meet, just said this morning. He could be over any minute. Apprehension gnawed inside her. Jaxon had obviously trusted him enough to ask for his help with the engines but what about the day to day? And what about this turnaround business? Jaxon knew she didn’t have any experience with boats and certainly not the piece of paper Ethan had said was required. Why had her brother ever thought she could just turn up and know all there was to know about houseboats? She had to get help and Ethan was the only one available. She’d just have to keep an eye out for anything odd.

  She went back inside, washed her dishes, made her bed and tidied away her gym gear. There was absolutely nothing more she could do until Ethan came. She picked up Jaxon’s notes. She’d given up trying to call him but she knew exactly what she was going to say when she did get to speak to him. Anger was always ready to resurface when she thought about her brother.

  A tap at the back door made her jump. She took a deep breath, counted to three and picked up Jaxon’s instructions and the houseboat keys. She needed Ethan’s help but she didn’t want to appear too eager.

  When she opened the door, the welcoming smile she’d planned barely stretched her lips. Ethan looked terrible. His eyes were bleary and his hair dishevelled. The light stubble that had given his face a rugged look a few days ago had grown into a thicker but ragged covering. It wasn’t appealing. Perhaps this was the real Ethan coming out. Had Jaxon found him not truly trustworthy?

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Ready to check out these boats?” he replied.

  With barely a look to see if she followed, he turned and set off for the river.

  She pulled the door shut behind her. The cool of the early morning had been chased away by the sun and a swirling breeze of warm air. A set of keys fell from her fingers taking the paper with it. She made a sudden lurch forward to stomp her foot on the page to stop it blowing away and gasped as a stab of pain coursed down her leg. She stepped forward gingerly. The pain receded just as quickly, replaced by a dull ache. Ethan had disappeared around the end of the house. She gritted her teeth and set off after him.

  By the time she reached t
he river he was inspecting the front of the first boat. It was pulled up onto the sloping bank just below Jaxon’s lawn. Ethan was intent on what he was looking at and obviously didn’t hear her approach. She reached him just as he stepped back, colliding with her. The force of his body knocked her backwards. Her feet went out from under her and she sat with a jolt on her bottom in the damp sand.

  The pain that surged through her forced a guttural cry from deep in her throat. She closed her eyes against the wave of nausea. She took in a deep breath and held it.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ethan’s alarmed voice reached her ears. “Don’t move. Where are you hurt?”

  The smell of stale alcohol and unwashed body odour worked like a dose of smelling salts. She flicked her eyes open. Ethan’s face was close to hers, full of concern.

  “I’m all right.”

  “You’ve lost your colour. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “I’m okay,” she snapped.

  Ethan hesitated then offered his hand.

  Savannah sucked in another deep breath. Damn her broken body. No matter how hard she worked it could still let her down. The pain was always there just below the surface ready to strike. It was hardly Ethan’s fault she was a cripple.

  She took his hand and used his strength to carefully ease herself upright.

  “I thought you’d broken something,” he said.

  “I’m fine. The ground’s soft.” She let go of his warm hand and brushed at the back of her jeans. “Just a muddy behind, I suspect.”

  His eyes studied her, still full of concern.

  She pulled her lips up in a grin. “Just an old war wound. It bothers me every so often.”

  The worry on Ethan’s face turned to a frown.

  “You’ve been in service?”

  “Service?” Savannah rubbed her hand down her leg. He must mean the armed service. “No. It’s just an expression.”

  Ethan pulled himself up straight. He was a good head taller than she was.

  “Well, if you’re okay we’ll get on with it.” His voice was distant now. All trace of concern gone.

  Savannah frowned. People said she was prickly. Obviously Ethan had a dark side too. Maybe this was what Jaxon had wanted her to look out for. She’d certainly not seen signs of any other neighbours since she’d arrived.