The Red Dirt Road

by Alissa Callen

  ‘No, he refused. But then again he refuses to go out at all so it mightn’t just be the doctor he’s avoiding.’

  ‘He hasn’t seen a grief counsellor?’

  ‘Actually, he has. I made sure we all saw someone in the months … afterwards.’

  ‘I’m glad you all had some professional support.’

  Hewitt frowned as he drove up the driveway to a farmhouse with a neat lawn but no garden. ‘Maybe I stopped taking him to see Cheryl too soon. Knowing him, he wouldn’t have talked as much as we all did.’ He paused. ‘Do you think Dad’s depressed?’

  ‘No … but I think he could have type 2 diabetes.’

  Hewitt parked out the front of the red-brick house and turned off the engine. ‘Diabetes?’

  ‘Yes. It all fits—the cut on his foot that won’t heal and his excessive thirst, weight loss, tiredness, mood swings and irritability.’

  Hewitt tunnelled a hand through his hair. ‘So Dad’s physically sick and how he’s been this past year mightn’t all be down to grieving for Brody?’

  ‘Sorry, I believe so. He really does need to see a doctor and to have some blood tests done as soon as possible.’

  Hewitt searched Fliss’s face. Her solemn expression had cleared but her eyes remained serious. ‘I take it this isn’t exactly the best news?’

  ‘Well, it depends on how you look at it. With a proper diet, exercise and medication he can feel better. This would have to have a positive impact on his mental health. But diabetes is a serious condition and one he’ll have to manage for the rest of his life. The damage he may have done to his pancreas can’t be reversed.’

  ‘Anything that gets him back into the paddock has to be a positive thing, even if it means he needs to take his health more seriously. The life he leads now isn’t a life at all.’ Hewitt anchored his hands onto the steering wheel so he wouldn’t be tempted to thank her with anything but words. ‘Thank you. Dad could have gone on for months, even years, living with this, and no one would have known. I’ll have a talk to him about seeing a doctor.’

  As if sensing his self-control was unravelling faster than a ball of his mother’s wool, Fliss pushed open her door. ‘You’re welcome.’

  Careful to keep his attention away from her mouth, Hewitt led the way along the path towards the Federation-style farmhouse.

  ‘I can talk to your dad if you like,’ Fliss said as Hewitt unlocked the wooden front door. ‘It might come better from me?’

  ‘We’ll see what mood he’s in when he wakes up.’

  Fliss stepped through the door he held open and walked along the hallway. She examined the two unfurnished front rooms. ‘Now this is what I call minimalist decor.’

  ‘That’s one way of describing it.’ He followed her into the kitchen. ‘Another would be practical. I don’t spend much time here.’

  He looked around as though seeing the home he’d lived in since university through Fliss’s eyes. The house was a reflection of his restlessness. There were no personal photographs or homely touches. The only sign that someone used the kitchen was the coffee machine and the single mug that sat beside it. When Ava and Brody were married he’d offered to swap the larger house for their cottage, but Ava had fallen pregnant and wanted to live close to Vernette and Wade.

  Fliss stuck her head into the nearby room that served as his office. ‘I can see you spend time in here—there’s actually furniture. Can I take a closer look at the pictures on the corkboard? That sandstone house looks familiar.’

  ‘Go ahead. I’ll go find my dinner suit.’

  He returned to find Fliss studying the properties he’d pinned to the board. Properties he’d seriously considered buying before Brody’s death. Since then he’d been too focused on taking care of everyone to remove the pictures.

  Fliss looked at him, expression thoughtful. ‘These are all bluechip properties and worth a small fortune. I recognise that sandstone house. It was on the market when I was looking.’

  ‘I’ve worked hard, saved and been lucky with off-farm investments. Whichever property I bought would have been my home and … my future.’

  Hewitt couldn’t stop his words from deepening. He turned away to hide his torment. By following his dreams he’d only robbed Brody and his family of their own futures.

  ‘Hewitt …’ Fliss came to his side. ‘You’re not to blame for Brody being on the bull, remember?’

  She didn’t touch him, but the concern warming her voice comforted him as though she had.

  ‘But I am to blame for him not making it.’ He dragged a hand over his face. ‘I should have been Seth’s pickup partner when everything went to hell. I should have read the bull sooner and been in the arena quicker.’

  Fliss laced her fingers with his. ‘You could have been the pickup rider and you could have read the bull sooner and Brody still could have not made it. You can’t be guilty of something that was beyond your control. Brody’s death was a tragic accident. I’m sad to say in my line of work I know they can, and do, happen.’

  Hewitt stared at her. The conviction in her words and the honesty in her eyes unlocked a possibility that before had been inaccessible. Was he not to blame for any part of Brody’s death?

  She spoke again, her gaze intense. ‘That property you’ve always dreamed of, it could still be a reality. There will be a way to make looking after your family work alongside you living your own life. The best place to start will be with your father’s health.’ Fliss’s grip on Hewitt’s hand tightened. ‘Let’s go see him.’

  The determination angling Fliss’s chin hadn’t lessened when they returned to Mayfield. They entered the kitchen where his mother was pouring tea into his father’s favourite pottery mug.

  ‘Hi, dear, your father’s awake and wants a cuppa. Then we can sit and chat. I want to hear all about this ball. It’s on this weekend, isn’t it?’

  While she spoke, she spooned his father’s usual two teaspoons of sugar into his black tea. From the corner of his eye he caught Fliss’s frown.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he said, as Fliss approached the kitchen bench. Her eyes met his with an unspoken question. She wanted to be the one to talk to his father. He nodded. It didn’t matter if his father was in a sociable mood or not, Fliss could more than deal with him.

  ‘Vernette,’ Fliss said. ‘Is it okay if I take Wade his tea? We didn’t get a chance to chat much at lunch.’

  ‘That would be lovely. Thank you. Here …’ She placed two of Lizzie’s vanilla cupcakes onto a white plate. ‘He’ll like these as well.’

  When Fliss left, concern lined his mother’s face. ‘I hope your father’s on his best behaviour. He can be a bear when he wakes up. He never used to be.’

  ‘Fliss will be fine. She took Dad his tea because she needs to talk to him. Mum, Fliss thinks Dad might have diabetes.’

  His mother moved to sit at the kitchen table.

  Hewitt sat beside her and took her hand. ‘Mum?’

  ‘I’m fine, dear. I’m just … relieved. I’ve known for a while something wasn’t right.’ She patted Hewitt’s hand. ‘This actually could explain a lot. Let’s hope he’s willing to see a doctor.’

  ‘Fliss will make sure of it.’

  Hewitt squeezed his mother’s fingers before he went to make her a cup of tea. She hadn’t taken more than three sips when Fliss returned.

  Her smile at Vernette was serene. ‘Wade said you’d have the number to call to make him a doctor’s appointment?’

  ‘I do.’ His mother stood to clasp Fliss’s hands. ‘Thank you. You’re a miracle worker.’

  The joy faded from Fliss’s smile as his mother moved to the top drawer where she kept her phone book. Fliss slid into the chair beside Hewitt.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked, voice low, feeling powerless against the guilt that refused to relinquish its hold on her. If he could he’d shoulder her burden at being unable to save a patient.

  ‘Yes. Wade wants to see you.’

  ‘Do I need to wear body a
rmour?’

  To his relief, her lips curved. ‘No. I told him if anything happened to your shoulder he’d be the one sitting the two hours in the hospital fracture clinic while you’re assessed and x-rayed.’

  Hewitt returned her smile before heading for the living room. His father sat in his leather recliner staring out the window. Hewitt sat in his usual chair. Expression stony, his father turned to look at him.

  ‘Fliss thinks I’m sick. What do you think?’

  ‘I think she could be right.’

  ‘I do too.’ Hewitt wasn’t sure what he was expecting but, just like in his mother’s face, he glimpsed relief in his father’s eyes. ‘Do you know why I don’t go to town?’

  Hewitt shook his head.

  ‘Because I can’t last the trip without needing to find a bathroom. It’s all this water I drink. Once I’m there I then need to go again. I just … don’t want to be a burden. You all already have so much to deal with.’

  Hewitt covered his father’s hand with his. ‘You’ll never be a burden.’

  His father swallowed. ‘I sure feel like one. I just want to stop being so useless. I can’t even walk outside with this foot.’ His father stared out the window, his shoulders slumped. ‘I just want to get back to the farm.’

  ‘And you will.’ Hewitt made no attempt to hide the emotion rasping his words. ‘Let’s get you checked out and go from there. Fliss will be with you every step of the way. It’s how she is. She cares.’

  His father didn’t immediately answer as noise echoed from the kitchen. Lizzie and Quinn had come over to the main house. Fliss’s laughter sounded, followed by a squeal from Lizzie.

  His father spoke without looking at him. ‘Remember what I said about looking after yourself.’

  Hewitt stood and clasped his shoulder. ‘I will.’

  CHAPTER

  16

  ‘Earth to Fliss,’ Taylor said, pausing as she coiled a section of Fliss’s hair around a hair straightener.

  ‘Sorry, I was off in la la land. What did I miss?’

  Taylor grinned across at Cressy and Ella as they sat in the hair salon, their hair already in elaborate up-dos ready for the ball that evening. The girls were the last of Taylor’s clients. ‘Your sister saying I should be thankful you were quiet.’

  Cressy lowered her magazine. ‘Don’t forget I have a lifetime’s worth of proof that when you get your hair done you’re usually more … vocal.’

  ‘I know I’m a control freak but I’m not that bad.’

  Cressy kinked a brow.

  ‘Okay, yes, I might have been a little worried that the Sydney hairdresser we went to as kids didn’t know the difference between a trim and a crew cut, but you’ll be happy to know I’ve mellowed in my old age.’

  Ella nodded. ‘I do believe you have. The old Fliss wouldn’t ever have let Edna catch her wearing clothes covered in dog hair.’

  It was true. The irony was that the more Fliss struggled to regain control the more she realised she didn’t always need it. Even when covered in dog hair and when her lawn was strewn with stuffing from a cushion the puppies had torn, the sun still rose the next day.

  Helping Hewitt through his grief had also helped her. She was beginning to understand it wouldn’t have mattered what she’d done for Caitlyn, the young mother wouldn’t have made it. Just like she’d explained to Hewitt, tragic things happened. Some things, like her feelings for him and her DNA, were simply beyond her control. She hadn’t failed her patient, she’d done her best and it was time to try and take solace in the fact.

  ‘I have.’ She met Taylor’s eyes in the mirror. ‘I also have complete faith in Taylor so there’s no need to say anything. As long as I don’t leave here looking like a sexy fairy, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘If I do say so myself, that was some of my best work. Hewitt appreciated how gorgeous I made your hair look.’

  Both Ella and Cressy lowered their magazines.

  ‘What?’ Cressy said, indignant. ‘I never heard about this.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Fliss said. ‘Hewitt didn’t act any differently.’

  And he hadn’t on the day of the parade. She just hadn’t mentioned the kiss that had exploded between them at the creek.

  Taylor looked skywards. ‘Please. The poor man couldn’t look away. And you, Fliss, couldn’t as well. But then again I couldn’t either, along with the rest of the women. Hewitt and Tanner did make pretty impressive Highland warriors.’

  ‘I love a man in a kilt,’ Ella said, brown eyes dreamy.

  Fliss tugged at the neck of the synthetic cape draped over her shoulders. She felt extra warm. She too was partial to men in kilts but only if they had an intense grey gaze and dark hair. ‘There won’t be any kilts tonight, just dinner suits. Men have it so easy not having to find something to wear.’

  ‘They do,’ Ella agreed. ‘But you must admit it was fun trying on all those dresses.’

  ‘It was.’ Taylor arranged Fliss’s hair into a messy bun. She stopped to glance at Cressy. ‘One thing’s for sure, you’ll need a few lessons on your runway technique before you walk up the aisle.’

  Cressy angled her chin. ‘There was nothing wrong with my catwalk style. I happen to like wearing cowgirl boots with ball gowns.’

  Fliss turned her head as much as she could with Taylor pinning her hair. ‘Cressida Knight, don’t even think about it. You’re not wearing your dusty farm boots on your wedding day.’

  Cressy’s answering smile was all innocence.

  Fliss looked at Ella. ‘Ella …’

  The vet winked at Fliss. ‘It’s okay. I’m with you. We’ve plenty of time to work out a compromise.’

  Fliss made a mental note to search online for wedding cowgirl boots as soon as she could.

  Taylor patted the last curl into place before showing Fliss the back of her elegant coiffure.

  ‘Thank you. I love it.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’ Taylor reached for a can of hairspray. Fliss jumped from her seat as though she’d been bitten by a green ant.

  Plans were made for Taylor to meet them at Ella’s house after her mother, Sue, had straightened her hair for her. The boys were all meeting at Claremont, leaving their vehicles there, and using Meredith’s four-wheel drive to travel to the ball. Whoever Taylor’s mystery man was, he’d meet everyone at the venue. So far she’d given only one hint: it wasn’t Rory.

  The girls were getting dressed at Ella’s and travelling the forty minutes to the converted cotton gin in her car. Designated drivers had already been decided and once the ball was over, Cressy and Fliss would ride back with the boys to Claremont. From there Fliss and Hewitt would head to Bundara.

  Ella had stocked her fridge as a reward for surviving their marathon hairstyling session. Soon they had country music blaring and were sipping champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate. The serious business of putting on makeup became a priority. Even tomboy Cressy spent time in front of the bathroom mirror.

  Fliss applied her makeup in Ella’s guestroom. Away from the others, her thoughts returned to Hewitt. He’d been the reason she’d been off with the fairies earlier. Since they’d returned from Mayfield three days ago, things had changed between them. It wasn’t anything specific she could pinpoint. He still came by every morning to sit on the veranda and have a coffee with her. They continued their daily routine of riding around the cattle. She still went across to the stables to chat to his family over the internet. His father had seen the local GP and today had completed his blood tests.

  She swept mascara through her lashes after realising she’d been staring at her reflection, her hand half raised, for several minutes. There was just a new intensity when Hewitt looked at her and a constant vigilance when they were in close contact. There’d been no more accidental touches when she handed him his coffee or when they’d help each other saddle the horses. It was as though a divide had opened up between them and Hewitt firmly remained on his side.

  The do
orbell rang. Ella’s voice sounded as she invited Taylor inside and told her to make herself at home. Fliss finished her makeup and slipped on a classic black ball gown. She’d tried on a variety of Ella’s and Taylor’s dresses when they’d all come to Ella’s for dinner the other night, but in the end she’d stuck with an old favourite. Her mother had helped her choose the strapless A-line gown for her university graduation ball. The style was simple and wouldn’t make her stand out in the crowd. She added some crystal earrings and a bracelet and slipped on her blind-date-killer heels Cressy insisted she wear.

  Her sister appeared at the doorway and Fliss stared. The no-frills cowgirl was unrecognisable. She was going to make the most breathtaking bride.

  ‘Cressy, you look absolutely gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cressy swirled to show off the full deep-red organza skirt that fell below the fitted velvet bodice. ‘I scrub up all right, if I do say so myself.’

  ‘More than all right. You look so much like Mum in her younger photos.’ Fliss touched the fine material of the skirt. ‘You definitely didn’t have this dress the other day.’

  ‘No. When Denham and I went north I saw it in a bridal shop. I wanted to get ideas for wedding dresses but ended up trying this on as I loved it so much. But, you know me, I spend my life in jeans so decided not to buy it.’

  ‘Let me guess … Denham bought it to surprise you.’

  ‘Yes! I had no idea. It turned up yesterday.’

  Fliss had no doubt that after Denham had seen Cressy in the dress he couldn’t have left the gown in the store. It fitted her to perfection. The rich colour complemented the creamy hue of her skin and the glossy darkness of her hair. ‘Denham’s such a keeper.’

  Cressy’s expression radiated contentment. ‘I know.’ She held out a black clutch. The delicate crystals embedded in the clasp glittered. ‘I bought this for you the other day when I made a flying visit to Dubbo. I knew you’d wear your black dress and our grandmother’s earrings. I thought it would match.’

  ‘Thank you. You know me too well. It matches beautifully.’ Fliss gave her sister a hug, careful not to crush Cressy’s full skirt.