CHAPTER
4
‘So how’s everything working out with Hewitt?’
Fliss didn’t miss the curiosity in her sister’s too-casual tone. She hunched her shoulder to keep her mobile beside her ear while she placed blue floral patty pans in a muffin tray.
‘You were right. I did need someone out here. It’s made a huge difference having Hewitt around. He’s even fixed the fence so those cattle of yours don’t moo outside my window at dawn. They’re worse than that rooster that chased us as kids.’
‘I remember Mr Red. He wasn’t so bad after I cracked my stock whip at him.’
Fliss put the last of the patty pans into the tray. ‘To you. I couldn’t crack a whip so I was still fair game. You wonder why I couldn’t wait to go to boarding school in Sydney.’
‘Yeah, there were no feral roosters there, just city drivers who wouldn’t give way on pedestrian crossings, and don’t get me started about being suffocated at peak hour on a train. I couldn’t wait to get back to the bush.’
‘Actually, you’re right. Mr Red wasn’t that bad and he did breed cute chickens.’
‘Felicity Knight,’ Cressy’s mock-shocked voice sounded in her ear. ‘Have you finally come over to the dark side and admitted that it’s not all bad out here?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say you and Grandfather weren’t as crazy as I once thought you were for loving country life so much.’
‘See,’ Cressy said, laughter in her voice, ‘there’s a little bit of us in you after all. Which reminds me, when you come over this afternoon we can get Mum’s things out of the attic. There should be something in her boxes that will help us with her family tree.’
‘Good idea. Our DNA results should be in soon. Have you registered on the site?’
‘Not yet. I’ll do it this afternoon.’
Meredith had recently researched her family history and had suggested that Fliss and Cressy do the same. They’d been at university when their parents had died in a car wreck, and as they didn’t know much about their mother’s family, they’d each decided to do a DNA test.
Fliss had her suspicions that there was more behind Meredith’s gentle encouragement than the older woman’s usual thoughtfulness. Perhaps she hoped the research would rekindle Fliss’s interest in genetics and eventually medicine? But while she may have been able to discuss Hewitt’s shoulder injury with him, the prospect of returning to her old life still tied her stomach in knots.
‘Fliss … you still there?’
Fliss only half heard Cressy’s question. Through the kitchen window she saw Hewitt leave the stables. She moved to the spot where she could view the whole garden but Hewitt only went to his ute and then back inside. A few quick glimpses was all she’d seen of him over the past two days.
‘Yes, sorry. I’m just in the middle of cooking blueberry muffins. I’ll bring some when I come over.’
‘Have you asked Hewitt to come? Tanner’s looking forward to talking horses with him again.’
‘No, it’s been wet. I’ve stayed inside.’
She didn’t need to add that she and Hewitt had been avoiding each other.
‘That’s okay. I’ll give him a call.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll go across to the stables.’ She glanced at the muffins turning golden in the oven. ‘I was going to take him some muffins anyway to say thank you for driving me to town the other day.’
‘I’m glad he drove you in. That red dirt road of yours would be a nightmare in your car.’ Cressy’s tone turned teasing. ‘You really need to get a new one … or just have Hewitt drive you around.’
‘I’m sure Hewitt would love that. He has enough to deal with without playing chauffeur to a princess who needs to suck up her fears. My anxiety spikes even at the thought of driving in the mud.’
‘You’re not a princess and it’s okay if you’re not comfortable driving at the moment with how wet it is. I can only imagine what you’ve seen in your emergency ward. If Hewitt doesn’t feel like coming, Tanner will pick you up. Just be kind to yourself.’
The hot prickle behind her eyelids held Fliss quiet for a moment. She might be the bossy and self-sufficient big sister but she didn’t know what she’d do without Cressy.
‘Thanks. I will. I’d better get these muffins out before they turn into door stoppers. Love you and see you soon.’
Fliss turned the muffins out onto a rack to cool and filled the second tray with blueberry batter. All the while she snuck glances through the window at the bluestone stables. The predicted bad weather had arrived and for two days rain squalls had blown in. The sky had become a morose grey and the harsh wind had rattled the loose window panes. The gloomy weather mirrored what was going on between her and Hewitt. It was only natural they’d want space after disclosing why they’d each come to Bundara. But as much as a part of her wanted to be alone, another irrational part craved his company.
She stood at the kitchen sink and frowned across at the stables. The distance between them had to be maintained. So she’d stick to some ground rules. When he spoke about Lizzie and Quinn and his voice softened to a tender and husky timbre, she wouldn’t acknowledge the flutter in her midriff. And even though she felt emotionally invested in what he hoped to achieve by coming to stay, she’d remain professional and help him through his grief like he was any patient.
While the second batch of muffins cooked, she cleaned the kitchen and then checked her emails on her laptop. Lewis regularly checked in on how she was going.
When she’d arrived at Sydney University wide-eyed and naive, Meredith had given her the name of a friend who was an endocrinologist and adolescent physician. Professor Lewis Barclay had been expecting Fliss to call and had soon become a trusted mentor and friend. His wife, Jean, had been hit by a car in her early twenties and had suffered a brain injury that affected her vision and speech. Their devotion to each other reminded Fliss that marriage didn’t always have to be a strained and tense relationship like that of her parents. Fliss replied to Lewis’s latest email. Jean hadn’t been well after a minor stroke.
When the last batch of muffins were cooling on the bench, Fliss headed to the stables. Sunlight splashed over the dark bluestone rock that had been hand cut on Bundara. The previous owners had lived in the renovated building while working on the main homestead. When their enthusiasm had dwindled, along with their finances, they’d put the run-down farm on the market again.
A willie wagtail played in a large puddle that had collected in the hollow of the gravel path. Despite all the recent rain, Cressy had reassured Fliss that the bridge and local roads would remain open. As Fliss drew near, the small bird hopped a few steps before flying off to perch on a crooked fence post.
The door to the stables opened before her knuckles could rap on the wood.
Hewitt greeted her with a reserved smile. ‘Morning.’
Stubble shadowed his chin and his dark hair was tousled from where he’d tunnelled a hand through the front. An emerald green work shirt hugged his torso and hung loose over his faded jeans.
‘Hi.’ She held out the muffins. ‘I come bearing gifts to say thank you for driving me to town.’
‘No worries. Anytime.’ Hewitt took hold of the plate. ‘These smell great.’
‘It’s Meredith’s never-fail recipe but they don’t exactly look like hers do. Mine are more … blue.’ Fliss broke eye contact to look at the muffins. Hewitt’s eyes were such a clear, pure grey she’d forget what she was supposed to ask him if she wasn’t careful. ‘I also come with an invitation from Cressy to come to Glenmore for an early dinner.’
Hewitt’s reaction was only subtle, but the lines around his mouth deepened. ‘Tonight?’
‘Yes. It’s just with Cressy, Denham and Tanner.’
His eyes searched hers. ‘Were you planning on going?’
She nodded. ‘It’s okay if you want a quiet night in. Tanner can pick me up so I don’t have to take my car on the wet roads.’
/> ‘I’ll drive you. A night out will do me good.’
‘Great. I’ll let Cressy know.’ Now was the time when she should say goodbye and return inside. But her feet refused to move.
Hewitt looked at the muffins and then at her. ‘I’m about to check Cressy’s cows if you’d like to come? So far there’s been three calves born.’
She hesitated. She’d already be spending time with him tonight. A gentle breeze tousled her hair, reminding her she hadn’t been outside in days. She’d enjoy seeing the new calves.
‘Thanks … I’d like that.’
‘Okay. I’ll find my boots and we’ll go in the ute.’
After a moment, Hewitt reappeared with his cowboy boots on and a half-eaten muffin in his hand.
‘How come we’re taking the ute and not the quad bike?’ Fliss asked, already regretting her decision to accompany him as they walked side by side towards his ute,
Hewitt might make her feel safe but he also made her feel unsettled in a way that had nothing to do with her usual anxiety. She had the insane urge to link her fingers with his to feel his warmth and his strength. She curled her fingers into her palms.
‘This way we won’t get wet if it rains. Also, the cattle are over where there’s a decent track.’
His careful tone and grave expression suggested he too was conscious that things had to remain impersonal between them. There’d be no more raw conversations or physical contact to offer comfort. She slid into the passenger seat and her tense shoulders lowered.
When they drove past the timber-framed machinery shed, she made casual conversation. ‘Did the muffin taste okay?’
‘It did.’
‘Wonderful. I’ll tell Meredith they weren’t an epic fail like my sponge cake that even the magpies wouldn’t eat.’
They came to a double gate and Fliss reached for her door handle. Getting the gate had everything to do with being independent and nothing to do with needing space to breathe after Hewitt had shot her a slow smile.
Once again settled in the ute, Fliss gazed out the window as Hewitt made his way along the narrow road that cut through the middle of the paddock. A cluster of cows congregated on a nearby dam wall. Their sleek black coats contrasted with the vibrant colour of the rolling pastures. The hills didn’t usually look so fertile and lush. It was as though she were in an English landscape where the only colour palette used was shades of green.
She laughed as two calves, their tails in the air, raced each other through the run-off that formed mini-streams. ‘Look at them go. They’re so adorable.’
‘They are. Those two were born the day we went to Woodlea.’
He left the track to make a short detour to where a cow stood on her own, her head down. Hewitt stopped a good distance away. The cow lifted her head to stare at them.
Fliss leaned forwards to get a better look at the tiny, jet-black calf the cow had been licking. ‘There’s calf number four.’
‘It’s not even an hour old. Everything looks okay so we’ll leave them in peace.’
Fliss stole a glance at Hewitt’s profile. The gentleness of his tone matched the softness in his expression.
They continued to where a group of cows rested beneath the canopy of a grey box tree. Some came to their feet, while others stayed on the ground chewing their cuds.
Hewitt frowned as he swung the ute around to head back the way they’d come. ‘There’s a calf missing. The mothers can stash them really well in the grass but I’d like to make sure it’s all right.’
‘I’ll keep a look out my window.’
Silence settled between them as they scanned the paddock either side of the road.
At the steel cattle yards, Hewitt slowed. ‘There they are, down near the trough.’
He turned the ute and made his way to where a cow was on one side of a fence and her calf on the other.
‘How did he get over there?’ Fliss asked as they drew near. The calf’s flanks were indented as he tried to suckle his mother through the wire.
‘I’m afraid your fences have as many holes as a golf course.’
Hewitt stopped in front of the double gate. Fliss didn’t leave her seat. The logical move was to get out and open the gate. She might be more city girl than country girl, but the wisdom of her grandfather’s life lessons remained. Never get between a cow and her baby, no matter how placid the mother looked.
Hewitt glanced at Fliss. ‘The cow’s on your side, so I’ll get the gate. Fingers crossed she gives us no trouble and stays where she is.’ He swung the gate open and, keeping a close eye on the cow, drove behind the calf. The calf stared at the slow-moving ute before walking along the fence line. When he realised the gate was open, he bolted through. His mother ran to him before leading him away to the trough, where she stopped to nuzzle his neck. The calf made a beeline for her udder, his tail wriggling as he drank.
Fliss left the ute to close the gate. By the time she’d returned to her seat, a white milky froth had formed at the side of the calf’s mouth.
‘He won’t be hungry for long at the rate he’s guzzling.’
She barely heard Hewitt’s answering chuckle as she stared through the windscreen at a group of willows that lined the far side of the creek bed. ‘Did you see that? I thought I saw a dog again. A black-and-white one.’
Hewitt studied the area where Fliss pointed. ‘No, but I’ve seen tracks.’ His jaw hardened. ‘Feral dogs, whether they’re born wild or are pets that have been abandoned, are not what Cressy wants around her breeding herd. Let’s hope we don’t start seeing calves with torn or missing ears or worse.’
‘I know. Grandfather had a lot of trouble one year with a pack of dogs led by a rogue German shepherd.’
Fliss again volunteered to open and close the gates. As she closed the final one, raindrops peppered her oilskin vest and hat. Once home, Hewitt parked in his usual place outside the stables. As the sound of the engine faded, he turned to her. A smile warmed his eyes.
‘Thanks for the company and for getting the gates.’
‘You’re welcome. See you about five?’
Fliss didn’t wait to see his nod before she had the door open. She couldn’t get out quick enough, even though the rain was now a steady downpour. Her heightened emotions and unpredictable hormones had a lot to answer for. This time the heat in her cheeks and the swirls in her stomach weren’t from nerves.
She had another ground rule to add to her list. Be at least a body-length away from Hewitt when he smiled. It would be the only way she’d remember her other ground rules.
Sunlight peeped through the heavy cloud cover, causing afternoon shadows to dapple the gravel road as Hewitt drove towards Cressy’s farm. He released a silent breath when the tops of Glenmore’s chimneys appeared through the thinning gum trees. He and Fliss would soon no longer be alone. Even though the drive had alternated between periods of companionable silence and casual conversation, he couldn’t relax.
Fliss sat beside him smelling of flowers and wearing a white top with fitted black jeans that would have made his jaw drop if he hadn’t been grinding his teeth at being near her. Ever since they’d checked the cows that morning, he’d been fighting to re-establish his reserve and to rebuild his self-control.
Fliss’s soft laughter as the calves had splashed through the water had touched a place buried within him. She’d sounded so carefree and her smile had been so beautiful it had been impossible to look away. This was the side of Fliss that stayed hidden beneath the weight of her guilt.
Since their car conversation, he’d been determined to reclaim the emotional distance he’d lost. And he had for two days. He’d kept to himself. But his new neighbour had gotten under his skin. When he wasn’t listening for the tread of her boots on the garden path, he was thinking about her. Her wariness, vulnerability and the fear he’d sensed that day in town now all made sense. She too had come to Bundara to heal. Even with her struggles, she’d been prepared to open her home to a stranger. If there was anyth
ing he could do to help her fight her battles, he would.
He concentrated on the flock of galahs feeding on the side of the road. But as much as Fliss shredded his control and made his testosterone hum, Ava, Lizzie and Quinn had to remain his sole focus. The day he’d let Brody down was the day he could no longer call his life his own.
He slowed as the galahs took flight in a cloud of grey and pink. The ute rattled as it crossed the cattle grid marking the entrance to Glenmore. Even though the homestead was still a distance away, the graceful lines of the wide veranda and roof line could be seen. Fliss leaned forwards to peer through the windscreen at the gentle green hills. Her loosely braided dark hair fell over her right shoulder.
‘Glenmore looks so different to this time last year. It just about broke Cressy’s heart when it didn’t rain.’
‘Denham said the drought made things tough.’
‘It did. I was so worried about her. She was close to our grandfather and takes carrying on his legacy very seriously.’
Hewitt had seen firsthand the toll a drought could take in his own local community. A lack of services and a stigma concerning mental health had cost the district two well-known farming identities. But now, even in a good season, the community had become more aware of the importance of asking if friends and family were okay.
Fliss continued. ‘While I was inside with my grandmother, reading and staying clean, Cressy was out mustering cattle in the heat and the dust. She’d always known Glenmore would be her destiny … even when our father took over. He hadn’t exactly shared her passion.’ She cast him a brief smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Sorry … I shouldn’t still be bitter that my father risked everything his grandfather had created, and that his youngest daughter loved, to bet on horse racing.’
‘Gambling can be all-consuming. It took a mate of mine a long time to admit he had a problem.’
The Red Dirt Road Page 5