by Gover, Janet
‘Don’t even bother, mate.’
One of the mine workers had seen the direction of his gaze.
‘She keeps herself to herself that one. Most of the blokes have tried, but she’s not interested.’
Pete shrugged and said nothing. He couldn’t be interested in someone like that now. He was going to have to stop thinking about other women altogether. His relationship with Linda didn’t stand any chance at all if he kept on thinking or acting like a single man still searching for The One. He was only now beginning to realise that marrying Linda meant he was giving up on falling in love and having the same sort of relationship his parents had. He didn’t want to do that. But he was going to have to. He owed it to Linda and their baby to try to build a strong, happy family.
When he left the mine, he turned north, back towards Coorah Creek. He had some boxes for the store and some kegs for the pub. He figured he might grab a meal at the pub before heading north back to base.
The main street was almost deserted as Pete drove slowly through. As always, there were a few cars parked outside the pub. Pete swerved off the road and parked his truck along the newly built kerb outside the store. He killed the engine and jumped to the ground. As he approached the door, he remembered that the storekeeper, Ken Travers, hadn’t been looking well the last few times he’d been here. Of late, his wife Gina had been the one to meet Pete and supervise the unloading of the boxes of supplies. They had a young daughter too, a blonde girl. He hadn’t seen her for a while and assumed she was away at school. Or maybe she would have started college by now. It was such a shame to see something like illness strike a nice family like that. Still, all a person could do was take whatever life threw at them and do the best they could with it. He was beginning to understand that now.
Pete walked into the store, and almost collided with a ladder set against the shelves just inside the door. He caught himself and placed a hand on the ladder, to steady it, in case there was someone up there.
There certainly was. That someone was high enough up that ladder to leave Pete staring at her bare legs, for there was no doubt that the owner of those legs was female. Very female. The legs were not very long, but they were very shapely. They curved down to a pair of the prettiest bare feet he’d ever seen. The toenails of those feet were painted bright red.
He couldn’t help himself; he let his eyes run slowly up those legs again to a pair of cut-off jeans shorts, filled out in the nicest possible way. The girl on the ladder was reaching for something on the highest shelf, and her top had ridden up to expose a few centimetres of skin on her lower back. Soft, silky skin. Not tanned like a lot of women were. Pete saw enough brown out the window of his truck when he was driving. This skin was creamy white and so smooth. It was like a drink of water in the desert. He wanted to run his fingers over that skin. Press his lips to it and taste it.
Pete didn’t believe in love at first sight. But lust! That was a different matter and right now he was feeling decidedly lustful.
He dragged his eyes away from that silky skin and forced his gaze upwards. He needed to see the face of this woman who in just a few seconds had set his heart – and other parts of him – on fire.
She had twisted her body to look down at him. He took a moment to appreciate the curve of her breasts, and then looked past the blonde plait hanging over one shoulder to her face.
A pair of amber eyes, flecked with gold, widened as they looked down at him.
God! All his lustful thoughts vanished in an instant as a wave of shame swept over him. He jumped back from the ladder as if hit by an electric shock. It was the child, Sarah. Slowly she climbed down the ladder and turned to face him.
‘Hello … Pete.’ She’d called him Uncle Pete once, but no more, it seemed.
‘Umm. Hi, Sarah.’
A welcoming smile lit her face, and Pete felt the earth shift ever so slightly on its axis.
Sarah could hardly believe she was looking at Pete, the truck driver her younger self had hero-worshipped. He was older now, of course, but he was very handsome. She had obviously had good taste when she was a child. Sarah felt her heart lift a little as she looked at him. She hadn’t seen him in more than four years. A lot had changed in four years. She should have grown out of that childhood crush on a man who was far too old for her. She had dated quite a few men since she’d last seen Pete, but apparently that didn’t matter. She felt that same old feeling starting to return. Maybe it was just because she was feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. Maybe she was looking too fondly at the past, because the future seemed very bleak, but it appeared from the lifting of her heart that he was still her knight in shining armour.
For a few long seconds they simply stared at each other. Pete was the first to drop his gaze. If she didn’t know better, she would have suspected he was blushing under his tan.
She could see new lines around his eyes and on his forehead that hadn’t been there when she left for college. The outback was hard on faces. But in her knight’s case, the lines merely added to his good looks. His eyes were still the dark chocolate she remembered. His hair was cropped very short. It looked spiky but she knew that it wouldn’t be. She would have loved to reach up and run her hand over the top of his head to check. But she couldn’t do it. For starters, she wasn’t a child any more, and for some strange reason her hands were shaking.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said, noting that the words came out almost without trembling.
‘I didn’t know you were back. Um. How are you?’
‘I’m fine thanks,’ she said. ‘And you. You look … well.’
‘Umm. Yes.’ Pete turned his head to look around the empty store. Almost as if he was seeking help. ‘Are your parents here? I have a delivery to unload.’
Some of the joy went out of the moment.
‘No. Mum had to take Dad to Toowoomba for treatment. He’s gone on the mine plane with the FIFO workers.’
She saw the immediate understanding and sympathy on his face. ‘I’m really sorry your dad’s crook,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’
They were standing there, not certain what to say next, when the door swung open, almost hitting Pete. Sarah looked at her customer. It was Trish from the pub. The sharp blue eyes looked from Sarah to Pete and back again. Sarah had a feeling the older woman had a better idea of what was going on than either she or Pete did.
‘I saw the truck,’ Trish said briskly. ‘We have some beer kegs coming. I just wanted to check you have them on board.’
‘Yes, I do. I’ll be over with them as soon as I’ve dropped off the boxes for here,’ Pete said swiftly. He glanced at his watch. Sarah knew it was coming up for six o’clock. She would be closing the store soon.
‘I’d better start unloading now.’ Pete turned and left, not quite at a run, but pretty smartly. Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if it was her or Trish Warren he was so eager to escape from.
Trish watched him go and then turned to Sarah. Her eyes were sparkling. ‘He is such a lovely man, isn’t he? So handsome too.’ A look of speculation crossed her face.
Sarah sighed. This she had not missed while she was away.
‘We are all so pleased to have you home, dear,’ Trish continued.
The look on Trish’s face told Sarah exactly who she meant by ‘we’. Sarah looked through the glass window to the road train parked outside. Pete was busy unloading the supplies her father had ordered. She watched him heft the heavy boxes of canned goods as if they were filled with feathers.
The door opened and a customer came in. Followed quickly by another. Sarah had to turn to serving, but she kept one eye on Pete as he carried several loads through to her storeroom. She was still busy when he finished and vanished with just a lift of his hand to her. Through the window she could see him beginning to unload kegs of beer from the second tr
ailer. She guessed he would stay and have a meal at the pub before setting out on a night run back to the Isa. For a few seconds she toyed with the idea of going over to the pub herself when she had closed the store. But the plane from Toowoomba was due to land any moment. Her parents would be home soon. Her mother would be tired and her father probably ill from his treatment. They needed her. She had come home to help them, not renew an old flame.
When she finally ushered out the last customer, she locked the door and headed back towards the house. Pete would be back on his next run in a week. That was what he did. Some things didn’t change … and she was pretty sure she didn’t want them to.
Chapter Nine
The police station was locked. Tia stood in the lengthening shadows staring at the building. She was too late and she was now technically in trouble. She was supposed to have shown her licence to the cop before close of business today. But she’d spent too long wondering whether to run or to stay and now the door was closed against her.
That probably didn’t leave her much choice. The cop was sure to start checking into her background now. She couldn’t be sure there were no outstanding warrants for her arrest. And if Delaney charged her for even a small offence, it would start something she had no control over. Something that could only end in trouble for her. It might even bring trouble to this little town, and she wouldn’t want that.
Common sense told her she had to run, but something was stopping her.
She had picked Coorah Creek almost at random because it was a long way from anywhere, and because the mine had jobs going for which they were offering all the training she’d need. There probably weren’t that many people who would be happy to live way out here. But for Tia’s purpose, it had seemed the perfect place to hide. The mere fact that it was such an unexpected and unlikely place for her had, in fact, made it exactly the right place. But she was starting to feel differently. It was funny how cooking a meal and talking to a girl in a shop could start changing things. Turning a hiding place into … not quite a home yet … but maybe one day.
She had made a mistake missing this deadline. She had to find that cop, show him her licence. But she had to do more than that. Everything about her behaviour until now would have just made him even more suspicious. She had to start acting like a normal human being and not some criminal on the run. She had to start doing that tonight, or her own paranoia might ruin this chance to start over again. If she lost this chance, she might never get another. She glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. Maybe it wasn’t too late yet.
Taking a deep breath, she walked up the stairs to the door of the station. There was a notice attached to the door with a phone number for emergencies if the station was unattended. She wasn’t sure that was quite the right thing to do. This wasn’t exactly an emergency. She glanced about and saw that the police car was sitting in a carport next to the station. That implied the cop had walked home, not driven. She went back down the stairs and walked to the corner of the station where she saw a concrete path running around the back of the building. Tentatively she followed it. As she turned the corner, she saw the house. It was like a million other outback homes. A sprawling wooden structure, it was about a metre above the ground, the wooden stumps leaving room for air and snakes to pass underneath. The stumps were, of course, topped with tin protectors. There would be no termites getting into this home. It was painted green but, like every other building in town, the paint was fading rapidly under the harsh sun. It was a big house. Big enough for a family.
That stopped her in her tracks. It hadn’t occurred to her that the cop would have a family. For some reason, she hated that idea. She didn’t want to explore why she wanted him to be single.
There was a light on at the back of the house. Trying not to feel like a criminal, she walked around the building and climbed the stairs to the back door. She peered through the window into the lighted kitchen. It was very tidy with no signs of a meal being prepared. And it was devoid of life. She knocked without hope of an answer, and then turned away.
It was then she noticed the big corrugated iron shed at the far side of the yard. It had a roller door at one end, presumably so it could be used as a garage. The lights were on and the door was open, but from this angle she couldn’t see inside. But a cop wouldn’t go out and leave a shed door open like that, would he?
Before she could change her mind, Tia began walking towards the shed. As she did, she heard the music and recognised it instantly. Really? She smiled. Suddenly the cop seemed less threatening. Almost human, in fact. This she had to see. She didn’t exactly sneak up to the doorway, but she didn’t go out of her way to announce her presence.
The cop had shed his uniform and was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt; both of which look like they were overdue an encounter with a washing machine. His back was to her as he bent over a wood lathe that was sending showers of sawdust into the air. His sweat had made the shirt cling to his body in a way that showed off his shoulders in a most appealing fashion. The big safety goggles he was wearing didn’t exactly add to the image but nor were they enough to detract from it.
From an iPod dock sitting on a bench, the Beatles asked her to ‘Let It Be’, but she just couldn’t. The song was fading. At that moment, the lathe spun to a stop and the shed was suddenly quiet.
Tia coughed. Loudly.
If she was hoping to startle him, she was sadly disappointed. He lifted his head and turned. As he did, he slowly pulled the goggles off his head. He moved to the bench to dispose of his goggles and render John, Paul, George and Ringo silent before they had truly begun to ask for ‘Help’.
‘You’re a Beatles fan?’ Tia asked, not even trying to hide her amusement. ‘Hardly what I expected for a police sergeant.’
‘When I’m in civvies, I’m not the sergeant. I’m Max Delaney and, yes, I’m a Beatles fan. Isn’t everybody?’ His mouth twitched into a hint of a smile.
Tia was disarmed. She didn’t know what to say. Instead she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and drew out the small rectangle of plastic.
‘I guess I’m too late to show this to the sergeant as required?’ she asked.
Max reached out a hand to take it. ‘In your case, I will make an exception.’
Tia looked away while he studied her licence. She didn’t want her face to betray her uncertainty. Instead, she looked at the contents of the shed. After a few moments, she began to really see what she was looking at.
Furniture. Handmade furniture. A beautifully built squatters chair, stained a lovely dark brown, sat next to a table with the grain of the wood seeming almost liquid in the evening sunlight streaming through the open doors. A bench held hand-carved toys to delight any child. There was a mirror with an elaborate carved wooden frame. Ah. So that was how he’d known she was behind him. Tia picked up a beautiful wooden bowl, with elegant curved sides that served to highlight and accentuate a flaw in the wood. It was quite lovely.
Still holding the bowl, she turned back towards Max. He wasn’t looking at her licence. He was looking at her.
‘Did you make this?’ she asked.
He nodded.
‘It’s just … beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’
Tia cast her eyes around the shed, and noticed the piles of timber. Most of it was old and weathered, with the remains of paint peeling away. Other larger pieces had old nails protruding from them, and evidence of joins.
‘You make this …’ Tia indicated the furniture and the toys ‘… from that?’
‘I do.’
‘Where do you get it?’
‘Almost anywhere there’s old timber or old houses. Some of it comes from the disused houses near the railway station.’
‘Oh, Sergeant,’ Tia raised a teasing eyebrow, ‘You’re not stealing this timber are you?’
He smiled. Tia’s heart did
a little skip. He looked so good when he smiled. And she couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at her like that. With friendship and humour and a degree of admiration.
‘Well, ma’am, I’m an honest cop, but you know how things are,’ he said in a thick accent, directing the humour at himself. ‘Actually,’ he continued in his normal voice, ‘the houses belong to the mine. I did a deal with Chris Powell – your boss. He lets me take all the timber I need in exchange for keeping a bit of an eye on the place. Which I would be doing anyway, so I think I got a bargain.’
‘It’s amazing that something this beautiful should come from something that has been abandoned and left to rot.’
‘Just because something has been abandoned, there’s no reason to write it off as rubbish,’ Max said as he gently took the bowl from her hands. His long fingers caressed the curved surface. ‘I believe in second chances. Sometimes, hidden underneath the roughness and ugliness of the surface, there’s great beauty and strength waiting to be set free.’
Tia felt a lump in her throat. He could almost be talking about her. With great reverence, Max placed the bowl back on the workbench. When he turned to her, his eyes and hers met and a silence settled over them both. Those few words had formed a connection between them. They both knew it.
‘I was about to grab some dinner,’ Max said at last. ‘There’s a huge bowl of home-made chicken curry in my fridge. I’d be very happy to share it with you.’
Tia stepped back.
‘Umm. No. I mean … Thanks, but no.’ She didn’t want to go inside his home. That was getting too close. Far too close.
‘Then I had better give you this.’ He held out her licence and she took it, trying not to look like she was grabbing it. ‘If you’re living here now, you need to change the address on that.’
‘I know. Thanks.’
She turned and took a couple of swift steps towards the door before she caught herself. She was doing it again. Running away. She wasn’t ready to get too close to the cop … to Max. Not the sort of closeness that involved the two of them eating at the big kitchen table, with the Beatles no doubt playing in the background, but that didn’t mean there were no other possibilities.