Ewan’s man-cave might be his paradise. But she’d just found hers.
Glenalla was one big, blank canvas.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
So much for autumn bringing cooler weather.
Ewan took off his hat and swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. The heat from the ground felt like it was slowly roasting him from the boots up. Pungent fumes filled the air as diesel gurgled through the hose connecting the mobile fuel tanker to the tractor’s fuel tank. He’d have enough diesel to refuel, but he’d have to take the mobile fuel tank to the homestead when he drove the farm ute home for dinner. Beside the machinery shed stood the larger fuel tank that the town tanker replenished.
Ewan squinted through the mirages dancing across the flat paddock to locate the tree line marking the distant road. He’d seen a dust cloud in the air an hour ago. Tish and the boys were home from town but he’d yet to see any further dust telling him Kree had returned from her daily visit to the Tylers’. Tish had mentioned at breakfast that Kree would be calling into Berridale on her way home from Glenalla.
Whiskey lay in the pool of shade cast by the stationary tractor. The kelpie hadn’t moved since he’d collapsed on the ground with a grunt.
‘Whisk, just think, soon it will be you and Midget again. Kree and her two noisy offsiders will soon be back at Berridale. I’ve finally talked to Don and can get the replacement pump sorted.’
But the kelpie’s tail didn’t wag or his unblinking stare change.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Ewan shared Whiskey’s gloominess. Marellen would feel empty when the joy of Kree’s laughter no longer wrapped him in its warmth. He’d even miss Fudge’s happy bleats and a playful Freckle tripping him over when he left the homestead every morning.
The nozzle clicked, signifying the tractor’s fuel tank had reached full capacity. Ewan re-stored the hose on the mobile tanker before replacing the tractor’s fuel cap. Whiskey’s bark let him know a dusty, white four-wheel drive approached. The vehicle rolled to a stop and Travis exited, dressed in ripped jeans, a faded red shirt and a battered hat.
Ewan settled his own hat more firmly on his head. There may be no happy endings in his future but he’d work damn hard to ensure there would be in Travis’s. He had to find a way to get Travis and Tish to relax around each other and talk. As much as Ewan dreaded the dinner Kree was offering, it still provided the perfect opportunity.
‘Slacking off, I see,’ Travis said with a grin.
‘More like hydrating. What’s with this weather? I hope we’re not in for a dry and hot autumn. We all need a crop, let alone a decent harvest.’
‘Tell me about it. But the long-term forecast is for a wet season, so you’d better get your dusty butt back into that tractor seat and finish sowing.’
Ewan raised his arms above his head to remove the kinks from his spine before he did exactly that. ‘I take it from you being here, and from your gloating grin, you’re all done?’
‘Yes, sure am. Put the last of the wheat in this morning.’ Travis’s grin broadened. ‘So, seeing as I’ve so much spare time, I thought I’d come lend a hand.’
Ewan matched his smile. ‘Rub it in, why don’t you?’
‘I’m only getting started.’
‘Lucky for you, I’m a good loser, so I’ll let you enjoy that spare time of yours before it disappears. Just refuelled and reckon I’ll finish this paddock and the canola before dinner. I’ll then clean the airseeder and be right to start the wheat tomorrow, barring any machinery breakdowns.’
‘So, nothing for me to do, then?’
‘Sorry, mate, but thanks.’ Ewan turned towards the tractor, hesitated and then faced Travis again. ‘Actually, there is something you can do.’
‘Fire away.’
‘I’ve spoken to Don, and with the hike in electricity prices he wants to put in a solar-powered pressure pump. I’ve made a few calls and the Dubbo pump place is sending one by courier to Bruce’s, for me to look at. The only thing is, I can’t get into town until the wheat’s in. So, if you’re in there over the next few days, maybe you could check it out to make sure it’ll do the job.’
Travis removed his hat and dragged his hand through his hair. The gesture surprised Ewan. For some reason Travis had to think about what Ewan had requested. Normally whatever they asked each other to do, it was a given it’d be done.
‘It’s fine,’ Ewan continued. ‘If you’re not going to town, I’ll get to it eventually. It’s just the sooner the pump’s sorted, the sooner Kree can return to Berridale.’
‘No, I’ll do it.’ Travis spoke slowly as though needing to choose his words. ‘But don’t forget Bruce’s hurt his back and even if the pump’s right, he won’t be able to put it in until his young bloke gets home from the mines. I would offer to put the pump in myself, but Bruce needs the money he’d charge for the installation.’
‘Damn. I forgot about his back. And you’re right, Bruce needs the money, so I wouldn’t feel comfortable installing it either.’ Ewan glanced at Whiskey. ‘You can stop looking at me like that now. It’s your lucky day. Kree and the terrible twosome will be staying longer.’
The phone rang in Marellen’s long hallway. In the night-time quiet of the homestead, the insistent ring was amplified. Kree came to her feet. The twins were asleep, Ewan on the tractor sowing and Tish in the kitchen making more of the delicious poppy-seed dressing they’d enjoyed on their home-grown dinner salad. Kree took a last look at the webpage on her laptop and headed out the library door. It would be morning over in America and she was expecting a call from a lawyer regarding the coach house.
But as Kree spoke her name into the phone receiver, a polished Australian voice responded with, ‘Kree who?’
‘Kree Garrett.’
‘Are you an American?’
The caller had to be Tish’s mother. The same rounded vowels that characterised Tish’s polished tone filled Kree’s ears. But where Tish’s voice was gentle and melodious, this woman’s was marble-hard.
‘Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado.’
‘And what are you doing at Marellen?’
‘Among other things, I’m learning to play tractors with the boys.’
‘Well, it’s about time.’
‘Sorry?’ Kree stifled a surge of dislike. She knew first impressions were formed within ten seconds of meeting people, but she only had Tish’s mother’s voice to go on and no non-verbal signals. Face-to-face, the older woman might be warmer and more personable than her brusque phone manner.
‘For years I’ve wanted her to get a nanny or an au pair. When I last saw my daughter she looked decidedly … unkempt. She had dirt under her nails, for goodness sake.’
But then, maybe not.
‘Mrs …?’
‘Mrs MacTavish-West.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs MacTavish-West, if I’ve given you the wrong impression but as much as I enjoy being with the boys, I’m not their nanny or au pair.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No, I’m staying with Tish and Ewan until the place where I’m supposed to be living has an inside water supply again.’
Mrs MacTavish-West made no attempt to hide her tsk of disapproval. ‘I don’t know why Tish insists on living out there, things are so primitive. Not having any water wouldn’t happen in Sydney.’
‘From what I’ve seen, the outback is a wonderful place to live. The sunsets are to die for and the Glenalla bush community is both tight-knit and supportive. Tish and the boys are much loved out here.’
‘But what’s there to do? There’s no theatre, no culture, and don’t get me started on the lack of educational opportunities for my grandsons.’
Tish’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. ‘My mother?’ she mouthed.
Kree nodded. Tish briefly closed her eyes before holding out her hand for the phone.
‘Mrs MacTavish-West, Tish is here so I’ll wish you a good night.’
Kree handed over the phone to Tish, who had her s
lender shoulders braced.
Kree walked on silent feet to the library and closed the door to give Tish privacy. Kree had spoken the truth to Mrs MacTavish-West. The clear sky, pure light and open spaces begged her to capture their beauty on canvas. The warmth and resilience of the people who made the remote bush their home touched and humbled her. It was as though she were living in the American west, but on a different frontier. The outback that Tish’s mother so maligned had a way of getting into your blood.
Much like Marellen. Kree sat at the table and gazed around the dimly lit library. There was something about this peaceful and dignified homestead that spoke to her and made her feel welcome. She’d love to trawl through the walls of books surrounding her and sit in the bay window overlooking Tish’s rose garden and read. There were other gracious rooms she’d like to take a peek in. The room two doors down had to be a music room. Once so reluctant to stay, she was now finding she would be reluctant to leave.
Kree reopened the mural web page on her laptop. Tish’s voice rose and Kree had no trouble making out her tense words, even through the closed library door.
‘That’s great you bumped into Mrs Wilkins and yes, I do know she has a granddaughter Braye and Darby’s age. And yes, I do also know she can read Old Macdonald Had a Farm, because you told me on our last phone call.’
Tish’s voice lowered. Kree scrolled through the mural images. When she was next in town she’d ask Jordy if she could see the pub murals to check if there was a theme she could extend.
Tish’s voice rose again.
‘I’ll say it again. I don’t want the boys booked into any Sydney prep school. I don’t care if you’ve already scheduled an interview with the principal or if Mrs Wilkins says I’ll miss out on getting the boys into the right school – we’re not leaving Marellen.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘I reckon another day of sowing, Whisk, and we’ll be done.’
In the darkness of the garden, Ewan wasn’t sure if the kelpie wagged his tail or even lifted his head to look at him. The walk from the machinery shed to the homestead felt extra long. The day had been hot and they were both running on empty. As predicted, he’d finished the canola two days ago and had since been flat-out putting in the wheat. Between his sowing and Kree’s visitor centre crusade, he’d barely seen the stunning American. If she wasn’t on the phone, or checking the stock at Berridale, she was asleep when he came home.
He ignored the loss that overlaid his exhaustion. There were far more pressing things he should be dwelling on than missing Kree. He had to get the wheat sowed so he could head north for the UltraBlack cattle sale. He also had to find the extra cash to fund the stock purchase now the bank was only onboard for half. If he bought less head, and sold the ute – his feet dragged – he should manage.
No lights shone in the windows. It was close to midnight and the house would be asleep. His stomach rumbled as he headed into the back garden to the pool. Tish had called him on the UHF to see if he wanted dinner brought to the paddock. He’d only planned on doing one more row so had said not to worry. Then the lights on the tractor had blown and he’d lost valuable time replacing a relay in the wiring.
He rounded the verandah corner and the sensor light switched on. Light danced on the breeze-rippled pool surface. He passed a hand over his gritty face. Dust coated his skin and the smell of diesel clung to his clothes. He’d take a quick swim and then see what Tish had left him for dinner.
Midget barked somewhere to his right and Whiskey bolted towards her. In the gloom, he caught flashes of white as the Jack Russell raced through the garden to the chook pen. A fox had been hanging around Lancelot and his hens. But between Midget’s vigilance and the chicken wire Ewan had buried in the ground when he’d built the pen, Sir Lancelot’s kingdom would remain impenetrable.
Ewan opened the pool gate and hung his hat on the self-locking mechanism. It wouldn’t matter if the gate didn’t close, the boys were in bed. He undid the top two buttons of his work shirt, pulled it over his head and draped it over the pool gate. He crossed the sandstone pavers to the water’s edge before bending to remove his boots and socks. He carefully straightened as his lower back twinged. Braye sure packed a wallop when he tackled. Next time the Wallabies played a test match on television, Braye wouldn’t be staying up late to watch.
A faint goat bleat blended into the jingle of metal as he undid his belt buckle. Ewan searched the garden beyond the glow of the sensor light. What was Fudge doing awake? If Fudge was out and about, was Freckle, too? He rubbed his collarbone and listened, but all he could hear was the rasp of dirt between his skin and the pads of his fingers. All seemed quiet. If Fudge was still awake when he’d finished his swim, he’d put her to bed on the verandah.
His hand lowered and he slipped his jeans button free. He was about to shuck off the dusty denim when Fudge again bleated. A loud crash sounded and then an unmistakable American accent said, ‘Dammit. There goes Tish’s bird bath.’
Fudge burst into the circle of light, followed by a limping Kree carrying a squirming Freckle. ‘No, you don’t,’ Kree said, her attention on the restless pup. ‘I’m not putting you down or you’ll run off. You’re not big enough to take on whatever garden gremlin is out there. In case you didn’t realise, it’s bed time.’
Ewan froze. It was hard enough concealing the effect Kree had on him when he was wearing clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. Dressed in only jeans and with light shining full on his face, she’d read him like one of the boys’ picture books. He edged away from the water and into the shadows, hoping Kree would think the inflatable ball moving on the water’s surface had tripped the sensor light. With any luck, she wouldn’t realise he was there.
But Lady Luck wasn’t shining on him. Fudge bounced Ewan’s way, bleating. He knew the exact moment Kree saw him. Her steps faltered and her hold on Freckle eased. The pup jumped out of her arms, landed on a patch of thick lawn and took off in the direction Midget and Whiskey had headed.
Kree placed her hands on her hips. ‘I give up.’
She limped towards him. Snug denim hugged her hips and a pink-and-white striped shirt was tucked into her leather-belted waist. The sensor light glinted on her small belt buckle. Kree might have won the negotiation over belt-buckle size, but going off the twinkle of light surrounding the buckle, Braye had won the bling argument. Tension tightened his stomach. In her new clothes, and with a light tan colouring her winter-pale skin, she almost looked like a local. But no matter how much she appeared at home in his world, she’d soon be gone.
‘He’ll be fine – he can’t get into too much trouble,’ Ewan said, calculating the distance between him and his shirt. ‘The garden gremlin will be a fox or a kangaroo. Whiskey will take care of him.’
Kree stopped at the pool gate beside Fudge. ‘I swear he was sound asleep half-an-hour ago. Midget barked so I came outside to see what the fuss was about and also found Fudgy awake.’
Kree patted the little goat to distract her from nibbling the sleeve of his shirt, which was hanging at perfect head height.
Ewan folded his arms. ‘I’ll make sure he’s back and in his bed before I turn in.’
‘Thanks.’ The strong light illuminated the midnight-blue of her eyes. ‘You’re in late. Tish was getting worried. She’s left a chicken casserole in the fridge.’
‘I did text that I had a machinery breakdown. She worries far too much. The doctor told her the only way she’d stop her tension headaches was to stress less.’
Kree frowned. ‘Does she get headaches often?’
‘Not anymore. She’s determined to not let her worries transfer to Darby, as he tends to worry, too.’
‘She’s such a great mum.’
‘She is.’ A breeze played over his bare chest, reminding him of his vulnerability, and he again glanced towards where his shirt lay across the pool gate.
Kree half-smiled, her eyes flicking across his dusty face and then over his chest. ‘Obviously the machinery breakdown inv
olved playing in the dirt.’
‘Something like that.’
He knew he shouldn’t keep her talking. The longer they stayed by the pool together, the higher the risk she’d glimpse something she shouldn’t in his eyes. But fatigue must be dulling his senses because as much as he needed her gone, he also needed her to stay. She’d soon be at Berridale and then Colorado. He spoke before his self-preservation flipped the safety switch on his mouth. ‘So, how come you’re still awake?’
‘It’s morning back home and I had some phone calls to make,’ she said as she lifted the shirt sleeve out of Fudge’s determined reach.
‘How’s the coach house plan going?’
‘Good, I’ll tell you about it while you eat. I need a packet of frozen peas for my knee. Tish’s poor bird bath won’t ever be the same again.’
‘Are you okay?’
His gaze dropped to where she rubbed her knee. Her long, brown hair fell over her shoulder and his fingers itched to thread themselves through the heavy, silken weight. He clenched his hands beneath his folded arms.
‘I’m fine.’ She straightened. ‘I’ll add the bruise to the one I got on my thigh from tripping over Braye’s boot, which Freckle had stolen.’
Ewan followed the path of her hand from her knee to the curve of her thigh as she talked. Too late, he realised Fudge had walked through the pool gate and had now stood on her back legs to reach his shirt. The little goat grabbed the sleeve in her mouth and pulled. The shirt fell, enveloping her in its navy folds.
Bleats muffled, she careered to her left and cannoned into Ewan’s legs. He reached for her but she sprinted in a wild sideways run, straight over the pool edge and into the water.
Without thought, Ewan dived in. The coldness of the pool hit him like a physical blow. He scooped up the flailing blue bundle and swam to the side of the pool where Kree was kneeling. He stood, a thrashing Fudge in his arms, and lifted his chin to avoid being head-butted.
‘Here, I’ll take her,’ Kree said. Her hands slid over his stomach as she encircled Fudge in her arms. The ends of her loose hair clung to his chest like curious fingers. She was so close he could see the dark fan of her lashes. So close, she could have heard the harsh intake of his breath at her touch, had she been listening.
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