Heart of the Valley

by Cathryn Hein

  ‘Maybe I can help.’

  ‘How?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything about psychology but I can offer big shoulders to cry on. I could even be your punching bag if you’d think it’d help.’ He bent and picked up Billy, who greeted her with an excited doggy grin. ‘Or you can just borrow my dog. He doesn’t mind being cried on.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  A shadow stole the brightness from his eyes. He glanced away. ‘Long story.’

  Brooke leaned back and stared through the windscreen, thinking. Perhaps a stranger was what she needed. Someone dispassionate, who wouldn’t suffer along with her. So what if she gave up her pride? She had little left as it was.

  ‘Would you sit with me?’

  He smiled. ‘I think I could manage that.’

  She smiled back, feeling the fluttering return of her optimism. ‘I guess I’d better warn you that I’m really unattractive when I cry. And I mean really unattractive.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’ He dropped Billy to the ground. ‘Do you want to try now?’

  Venus let out another whinny. Brooke’s mouth parted. Distracted by Lachlan she’d forgotten about the pony.

  ‘Maybe you need to try some animal other than a horse.’

  ‘Like what?’

  In lieu of an answer he gave an enigmatic smile that made her heart do a weird flip-flop. ‘Why don’t you unload Venus and then wait here? I’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  But he didn’t answer. Instead he strode across the yard to his Hilux and stepped inside. Seconds later he was heading up the lane.

  Brooke climbed from the car, lowered the tailgate and led the irritated pony to her yard next to Poddy. The minutes passed. She stood by her beloved champion, caressing his long nose and muzzle, waiting. Kingston Downs lay hushed and slumbery in the late afternoon sun. The wind had died, leaving the landscape at peace, out of balance with her internal disquiet. In the front paddocks, a couple of thoroughbreds enjoyed a mutual scratch of each other’s necks. Fresh country smells – cow and horse manure, pasture and moist, fertile soil – scented the air. But of Lachlan there was no sign.

  Her shoulders slumped. Perhaps he’d chickened out. She couldn’t blame him. Taking on her troubles was too much for anyone.

  She looked up as the hum of a vehicle carried from the road. Attuned to Kingston Downs’ environment, she noted the gear change. With a kiss on Poddy’s nose she ducked out of the yard as Lachlan’s Hilux coasted down the drive, sunlight flashing off its red roof and chrome roll bar. Through the windscreen she could see Billy perched on Lachlan’s lap, little paws up on the window’s edge. As the ute passed she noticed the tonneau cover was pulled back and tucked in, and despite her relief at his return, the worry of what it might contain made her insides twist tighter.

  He braked alongside the Land Cruiser and with a ‘Sorry it took so long’, flipped down the tailgate and leant into the back to gather something grey and woolly into his arms. The sheep let out an indignant bleat as he hauled it towards the float and sat it on its backside, its upper body gripped between his knees.

  ‘Meet our gallant test pilot,’ he said, untying the rope securing the sheep’s legs and scruffing its head. The ewe kicked and jerked, attempting escape, but Lachlan held her firm.

  Brooke couldn’t stop staring at the ewe, which rewarded her scrutiny with another grumpy bleat. The merino’s weird, pale-brown eyes, with their oval pupils, gave it an almost demonic appearance. She told herself it was just a normal sheep, but the fist gripping her insides grew claws. Her mouth dried as she thought of towing the float with a living creature – even a demon-eyed one – in the back.

  ‘She’s one of Nancy’s,’ Lachlan continued when she remained silent. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t go anywhere. We’ll just sit. Dorothy’ll be fine.’

  ‘Dorothy?’

  He muttered something she didn’t catch. ‘It’s her name.’ He stared at Billy, who regarded Dorothy with bright, excited eyes, before turning back to Brooke, his voice firm. ‘She’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to her.’ He paused. ‘Or you. I promise.’

  She nodded, wanting to believe him, wishing she could steal his certainty.

  ‘Good. Now, could you lower the tailgate for me, please?’

  She did as she was told, standing back with her arms crossed as he hoisted a kicking Dorothy into the float before quickly retreating to shut the gate on her. Locks in place, he moved to stand in front of Brooke. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Not really.’

  He studied her more closely, roving those magnetic eyes over her face, assessing. ‘If you’re not okay with this I can take her back to Nancy’s.’

  She yanked hard on her courage. ‘No. I need to do it.’

  ‘Good. I didn’t think you were the type to give up.’ He tilted his head toward the Land Cruiser. ‘You jump in and get settled while I move the ute.’

  He busied himself securing the Hilux’s tailgate, leaving her to walk lead-footed to the Land Cruiser. She halted beside the driver’s-side door and stared at it, praying for courage she wasn’t sure she possessed. The gold lettering and logo of Kingston Lodge Racing grew fuzzy edges as the monster in her head roused. Automatically, her fingers crept to her wrist.

  One, two, three.

  She could do this. Lachlan was here. He’d promised Dorothy would be safe. It’d be okay.

  Throwing a look his way and encountering an encouraging nod, she straightened her shoulders, reached for the door handle and climbed into the car.

  With the Hilux safely parked in its bay, Lachlan lifted himself and Billy into the four-wheel drive and angled his bulk slightly towards her. Billy sat on his lap, glittery black eyes as watchful as his master’s. After the cool outdoors, the confined space seemed oppressive. Brooke became hyperaware of Billy’s doggy odour and the strong scent of lanolin on Lachlan’s clothes. Sweat prickled her brow. She leant toward the window, sucking in air, fingers dug into her wrist, counting, counting, counting.

  ‘It’s okay. We’ll just sit here. Talk maybe.’ Lachlan’s voice was gentle, his expression the same.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I don’t know. You?’

  ‘You mean how crazy I am.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re not crazy.’

  The float thumped as Dorothy butted a wall. Brooke closed her eyes. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

  ‘That thing you do with your wrist. I read about it on the internet. It’s for anxiety, isn’t it?’

  She nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

  ‘Does it work?’

  ‘Yes. No.’ Brooke shook her head. Biting her lip she looked at him, pleading for understanding. ‘It’s probably all bullshit but I’m so desperate I’m willing to try anything. I have to get better. I have to take things back to the way they were before. If I don’t I could lose Kingston Downs, and this place is my home.’ She pressed her hand to her chest. ‘A part of me. The thought of losing it …’

  ‘You don’t have to explain. I feel the same way about Delamere.’ He smiled at her, and something passed between them. Empathy perhaps, understanding. ‘Stupid to feel that way about a bit of dirt.’

  ‘I know. No one seems to understand. Except for Angus. He’s like that with Kingston Lodge.’ She contemplated the steering wheel. The Land Cruiser’s keys dangled from the ignition, safely off. She didn’t have to turn them. She could just sit, talk for a while. Get to know Lachlan. Dorothy would be fine as long as she didn’t drive anywhere.

  ‘Tell me about Delamere.’

  He nestled back into the seat and stared out the windscreen, his face relaxed. Billy turned twice, delicate paws treading a nest, and curled up in his lap. Lachlan placed his hand on the Jack Russell’s head and gently stroked as he talked. Brooke experienced an absurd longing to swap places with the dog.

  ‘Not much to tell, really. I love the place but it’s nothing
special. Sheep and cattle fattening, lucerne in rotation with cereals. The usual thing for the area.’

  ‘And what area’s that?’

  ‘The Jemalong Irrigation District, west of Forbes. Delamere’s about fifty k’s from town. Just over four hundred hectares. It used to be bigger but Dad had to sell off some land a few years back.’ Tension appeared around his eyes and mouth. ‘Things haven’t been run as well as they could have been.’

  ‘Is that why you studied agriculture at uni?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He smiled at her. ‘That and because they wouldn’t let me in to law.’

  ‘Did you really want to be a lawyer?’ She couldn’t imagine it at all. Although she had no doubt he’d look as good in a suit as he did in work clothes.

  ‘No. I just wanted to earn enough money to turn the place around.’

  ‘Not a lot in agriculture.’

  ‘That’s an understatement. But there’s much to be said for knowing happiness is where your heart lies, and mine’s buried in the land.’

  ‘So what are you doing at Kingston Downs? Why aren’t you putting all your expertise into Delamere?’

  ‘Dad and I had a bit of a falling out.’ He pointed to the ignition. ‘Why don’t you turn it on?’

  Immediately her stress returned. She shifted, blinking, and wiped her hands down the front of her jodhpurs. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘It’s not me I’m worried about.’

  ‘Dorothy has plenty of wool padding. Anyway, you’ll only be turning on the engine, not moving. No harm in that.’ He pointed to the handbrake. ‘As long as that stays on we won’t be going anywhere.’

  She looked at him, feeding on his faith.

  ‘You can do this, Brooke. I know you can.’

  She stared at the dash. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to her keys. A scratched sterling silver and Swarovski crystal-encrusted letter B hung from the main ring, a birthday present from Chloe. She reached forward and let the cool metal touch her palm. Fingers tightening, Brooke glanced at Lachlan, who nodded his encouragement. Her foot hovered over the clutch. She swallowed and closed her eyes. Already her breath was coming raggedly.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you or Dorothy.’

  Anxiety ran like an electric current under her skin, but Lachlan’s voice, his certainty, fortified her. She could do this. Inhaling shakily, she engaged the clutch. Her fingers gripped the plastic end of the key. Quiet dominated, as though the world held its breath, waiting for Brooke to move. Focusing on the diesel engine’s coil light, she turned the key. The other keys jangled, the sound harsh in the hush. The coil light lit and three heartbeats later went out.

  She looked at Lachlan, fear making her eyes feel huge. The last time she’d done this the panic and terror had been unbearable.

  He leaned toward her, challenging her. ‘Come on. Show me how brave you are.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are.’

  He sounded so sure, so positive. She bit at her lip. He was right. She had to be brave and beat this. The tension in her leg holding the clutch made her thigh tremble but she wasn’t about to let go. If she didn’t do it now, she’d never do it. And the thought of that sent her mind spiralling. With a final glance at Lachlan and a suck of breath, she turned the ignition.

  The diesel chugged. She flicked the gearshift into neutral and jerked her foot off the clutch, holding her hands up as though the Land Cruiser’s steering wheel had become a vicious animal.

  Billy placed his two front paws on her thigh and looked up at her with his head tilted. She lowered her hand to stroke his silky head, seeking calm. He nuzzled and licked at her palm in understanding.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Lachlan.

  ‘No.’ She looked at him. Her heart seemed to be pounding in arrhythmic beats. Sweat soaked her armpits and back. Her mouth felt thick and her scalp tight, and though the clutch was no longer engaged the tremble in her thigh remained. ‘But I think I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘Good. Just remember you can stop at any time. All you have to do is open the door and get out.’

  ‘I know.’ She gave him a shaky smile. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  For a long moment they held each other’s gaze, and beneath the buzz of her nerves, Brooke sensed another connection being made. Something stronger than empathy. An alliance. A silent deal that together they could beat this.

  A bang from the float shot her stiff with shock. She whimpered, hands fluttering in panic as red images flashed across her mind.

  Lachlan caught her fingers, his touch solid and reassuring. ‘Shh. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only Dorothy letting us know she’s there.’

  He lowered her hands to Billy and released them with a comforting squeeze. Billy wriggled under her touch, his tail swinging, delighted with the attention. Though the engine’s diesel tick rattled her insides, Brooke found that with Lachlan’s touch the swell of panic had subsided. Not completely, but it was no longer out of control. She’d be all right, just as he promised. They weren’t going anywhere.

  ‘Angus tells me Kingston Downs used to belong to your grandparents,’ he said, restarting their conversation.

  She nodded, knowing he was doing it to distract her and grateful for it. ‘They moved to Port Douglas four years ago. Pop found the winters too cold in the Valley.’ Seeing Lachlan’s raised eyebrows she explained. ‘He had severe arthritis, probably from all the broken bones he received when he was a jockey.’

  ‘I didn’t realise he was a jockey.’

  ‘And an owner-trainer, among other things.’ She smiled as Billy snuck fully onto her lap. She ruffled his ears. ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Taking advantage of you, I suspect,’ said Lachlan. ‘Push him back to me if you don’t want him there.’

  ‘No, he’s fine.’ And he was. She found Billy’s affection soothing.

  ‘So your pop passed away?’ Lachlan prodded.

  ‘Just over two years ago now. When they moved, Pop leased the property to Kingston Lodge Racing, then when he died it went to Dad, who transferred it to a family company with all of us as equal shareholders.’ She stared out the side window, eyes stinging as she remembered Mark’s talk of buyer interest in the property. If her pop was still alive, no one would have even countenanced selling, but times had changed. Everyone had a stake in the company and Kingston Downs was worth a small fortune. A good offer would be hard to refuse, especially now when it wasn’t pulling its weight businesswise.

  ‘So is your nan still in Port Douglas?’

  ‘Yes. And living the life of a merry widow.’ She smiled, thinking of the spritely old lady who had no intention of acting her age, despite now being in her eighties. Last time they spoke her grandmother spent nearly their whole phone call discussing her new iPhone and Angry Birds addiction, after complaining that Brooke still hadn’t responded to her Facebook friend request. ‘Nan’s great fun. You might meet her one day. She flies down every now and then to terrorise us all and to tell Dad where he’s going wrong.’

  ‘I hope I’m still here to meet her.’

  Brooke dropped her eyes. If she had her way he wouldn’t be. As soon as she sorted herself out she’d be back in charge, and Lachlan Cambridge would be out of a job. Her throat tightened at the thought. She ran her hand down Billy’s white back, wondering why she should feel bothered by the idea. The only thing she owed Lachlan was thanks for his kindness.

  A bleat sounded. Her head snapped up. She’d forgotten about Dorothy, about the engine being on, about being in charge of the float. The hand on Billy’s back stilled.

  ‘So, have you always showjumped?’ asked Lachlan.

  ‘Pardon?’ She curled her fingers against her temple, frowning. ‘Sorry, I just …’ She dropped her hand. ‘I suppose so. I used to do a lot of dressage, too. I still do with the young ones, but showjump
ing is my first love.’

  ‘Must be exciting.’

  ‘It is. Especially when you’re jumping off against the clock. Poddy used to be —’ She halted, her tongue sticking on the words. She glanced at Lachlan and quickly looked away again. She knew that expression. It was the same as Andrew’s had been when she’d tried to drive his float at Willowgrove. She hated how weak it made her feel. Hated this horrible anxiety, this pathetic feeling of helplessness. This useless person she’d become.

  She had to make it stop.

  ‘Here,’ she said, lifting up Billy and handing him over to Lachlan. As soon as the dog was in his hold, she pressed down hard on the clutch. Her palm hovered over the gearstick. Just one movement and it’d be engaged. A push down on the handbrake and a slow release on the clutch and they’d be moving. It’d be easy.

  ‘Brooke, I don’t think —’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Her heart compressed in rapid beats. Sweat broke out once more across her forehead. The noise in her head grew. She ignored it. If she did this fast, she could beat it. She’d read about flooding on the internet, where phobia sufferers were plunged into their greatest fear and forced to endure it until the fear disappeared. She’d tried it on her own without success, but this was different. Lachlan was with her.

  She pushed the gearstick into first. The memories began clamouring, the noise louder. Her head throbbed with them, but still she forged on. Billy whined. Lachlan hushed him. She could feel their eyes on her.

  ‘Okay,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Okay.’

  The handbrake went down. She slapped her hands to the steering wheel and gripped it tight. Shakily, she eased the pressure on her leg. She felt the gear engage. As the car lurched forward the building scream unleashed its full power. Agonising images filled her mind. Oddy’s thrashing body. Her scarlet hands. The sticky hot blood. The flare of his nostrils. Oddy’s unbearable pain as he suffered.

  ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘Brooke!’

  The Land Cruiser lurched and stalled. She fumbled with the door, moaning. Her fingers slipped on the handle. Something gripped her lungs. She had no breath. Her panic turned wild.