He gave in to the urge to look at her left hand. The Woodlea rumours had been rife with talk of a serious boyfriend and his mother had confirmed she’d been seeing a newcomer named Shaun. She didn’t wear a ring but she wouldn’t when carrying out her SES volunteer work.
He met her eyes again and had no idea what she was thinking. Loss again buffeted him. He’d always been able to read her. Not anymore. The girl who’d worn her heart on her sleeve had learned to mask her emotions. Guilt twisted inside like a knife.
‘Do you need anything?’
Her polite question failed to span the divide that gaped between them. Cressy’s generosity always ensured that she looked out for others, even the man who’d left her to follow his so-called dreams.
He cleared his throat. ‘No, I’m right, thanks. Meredith’s coming out to Claremont so I won’t be on my own.’
A wash of faint colour over Cressy’s fair skin hinted at her relief he wasn’t in need of anything. ‘Knowing Meredith, she’ll arrive with a boot full of groceries and baking so you’ll definitely be right for food.’ Cressy glanced over his shoulder at the two graves he’d been visiting. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’
‘No worries.’
She unfolded her arms and turned.
He should let her go. He shouldn’t try and rewind the past. But the need to hear her voice and to be near her proved too much. Every day he’d spent away was carved on his heart like notches on a blackened fencepost.
‘Cressy …’
She stiffened and slowly turned to face him.
‘How’s Felicity?’
‘She’s good, thanks. She’s finished medicine and she’s working in a Sydney hospital.’
He nodded. ‘I can imagine her in a large city hospital. Fliss always liked being in charge.’
A ghost of a smile touched Cressy’s mouth. ‘She still does. She’s a typical firstborn and is in her element overseas having a holiday and helping a uni friend organise her wedding.’
‘I bet she is.’ He paused. ‘Mum said Glenmore’s keeping you busy.’
The small talk didn’t appear to relax Cressy. Her rigid body remained angled towards her ute as though preparing for a fast getaway. ‘It has.’
‘I really appreciate the time you spent with her.’
‘It was the least I could do. She was so … alone.’
He flinched. He didn’t know what lashed him the most, Cressy’s harsh tone or the condemnation in her eyes.
‘No. She wasn’t.’
Cressy’s frown would have stopped a runaway racehorse. ‘Yes, she was. Her only surviving son wasn’t here for her.’
‘I was.’
‘Denham, cut the rubbish. I know you weren’t. You’ve been on the other side of the world.’
‘Not all the time.’
‘What do you mean? You haven’t set foot on Claremont in three years.’
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t ever intended to reveal so much but Cressy’s censure corroded his self-control. His mother also hadn’t raised him to lie.
‘Yes. I have.’
Silence.
He continued speaking, throat tight. Cressy wasn’t going to like what he had to say. ‘I’ve been home and the last time was … a fortnight ago.’
Shock pinched her features. ‘You’ve been home? You’ve been with Audrey?’
‘Yes. I was holding her hand until the … end.’
He didn’t try to hide the emotion that rasped in his words.
Cressy stared at him. Grief shimmered in her eyes and she was again the kind-hearted girl he’d known. Whenever there had been a poddy lamb or an orphaned joey he’d deliver them to Cressy to be cared for.
‘I’m glad Audrey had you with her. No-one realised she was sick again, otherwise we all would have been over.’ Confusion replaced the softness in Cressy’s gaze. ‘But how did you come and go without anyone seeing you? And why didn’t Audrey, or Phil, say anything?’
‘I asked them not to.’ His tone remained low. ‘It’s not hard to hire a car and come the back way from Dubbo to Claremont.’
‘We were … friends. I wouldn’t have told anyone.’
‘I know.’ He took a step towards her before his mind could warn him it was a bad idea. ‘It was … easier this way.’
‘Easier?’
The single word contained all the spirit and the strength that had always defined who Cressy was. She was far more than fragile bones and large eyes.
‘Yes. I could never stay long. I was here to see Mum and to spend as much time with her as I could.’
Cressy nodded. She’d always known how close he was to his mother. Just like she’d also remember how he’d ended things between them. He’d made it clear there was no future for them and that he didn’t want her to wait.
‘Cressy, I’ve said it before but … I’m really sorry the way things turned out … between us.’
She shrugged, her face devoid of all expression. ‘There’s no need to apologise. You’ve already said enough. I get it … you left because you had things to do that you couldn’t do here.’
‘Cressy …’ He pressed his lips together to stop his secrets from breaking free. He’d made a deathbed promise to his mother to let the past go and to move forward. He nodded. ‘Thanks again for being there for Mum. See you tomorrow.’
‘No worries.’ She’d turned away before she’d even finished speaking.
He dug his hands deep in his jeans pockets. No matter how much he wanted to, he could no more call her back or say how good it was to see her than he could take her into his arms.
Without a backwards glance she slipped into the driver’s seat, started the ute engine and continued into the cemetery.
Denham bowed his head and made his way to his own ute. It wasn’t only his brave and gentle mother he’d come home to farewell. It was time to let the flicker of hope that he and Cressy could have a future together burn out. It was time to let both his dreams … and her … go. There could be no going back.
He made a point of not looking at his father’s or brother’s graves. The years away hadn’t achieved a thing. The pain hadn’t dulled. The guilt hadn’t diffused. His feelings for Cressy hadn’t dimmed.
He still had to let the one girl he could never forget walk away.
CHAPTER
2
‘Tippy, not you too?’
Cressy sighed and glanced across at the kelpie who sat in the ute passenger seat, her intense, whiskey-coloured gaze fixed forward. When it came to working cattle the intuitive kelpie was one of the best, but this time she wasn’t obsessing over a flighty steer … just one broad-shouldered cowboy.
To their right sprawled the historic Claremont homestead and to their left Denham stood, back to them, watching a horse in the round yard near the stables. The moving horse kicked up a cloud of dust but Cressy didn’t focus on the rising red plume. She too stared at Denham. She’d last seen him four days ago at Audrey’s funeral. Face grave and jaw tight, he’d cut a sombre figure in a dark suit and boots. Today he wore a wide-brimmed hat, faded jeans and green western shirt but the rigid line of his back told her his expression hadn’t changed.
She looked away with a frown and parked in her usual place beneath the spreading jacaranda tree. She was as bad as Tippy and the rest of Woodlea’s female population who’d crowded around Denham after the church service. Sure he looked as good in dust and denim as a cowboy could but that was no excuse for forgetting their lives now ran along separate tracks. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel. Even if her hands still remembered the feel of the corded muscles beneath his smooth skin.
‘Tippy, we’re here to help Meredith finish cleaning Audrey’s flat. Not to mob him.’ Cressy cast the black kelpie a stern look. ‘I know you snuck off yesterday to find him. He’s just lost his mum. He needs space.’
Tippy wagged her tail but her eyes never left the cowboy who’d turned to look at them. Cressy gave Denham a casual wave and then bent to coll
ect the bucket of cleaning supplies from off the ute floor.
This was day three of helping Meredith and would be her last visit to Claremont. Apart from a quiet word with Denham at the wake and an unexpected meeting of their gazes, she hadn’t seen him since. She mightn’t see him again after today. Meredith hadn’t let on when Denham would be leaving but it had to be soon.
Cressy straightened and ignored the ache in her chest. She had no time to indulge her emotions or to cling to sentiment. Denham had made his choice and it hadn’t been her. She climbed out of the driver’s seat and Tippy shot past her. Cressy looked skywards. So much for the besotted kelpie not mobbing Denham.
She hesitated and glanced across to where Denham’s smile flashed white as he rubbed behind Tippy’s ears. Cressy shouldn’t join them. She’d acknowledged Denham with a wave and that was enough. He wouldn’t expect anything more. He’d known she’d visited the past three days but hadn’t sought her out. She’d whistle the kelpie away and continue inside. But her lips refused to move.
People looked out for each other in the bush and she owed it to Audrey to keep an eye on her son. A shooting accident had stolen his father, a car accident his younger brother Jake and now cancer had returned to claim his mother. She settled her black Woodlea rodeo cap a little more firmly on her head. She also couldn’t turn her back on the years of friendship with the older boy who’d always saved a slow smile for her. She’d check Denham was doing all right and then leave him in peace.
She kept her attention on him until a body-length away and then looked down at Tippy. The twist in her stomach let her know she wasn’t ready for the jolt of his blue eyes meeting hers. Even after three years he still affected her like no other man could.
‘Hey,’ she said, risking a quick look at his face.
‘Hey.’
The deep timbre of his reply triggered a flurry in her senses. The unfamiliar American cadence to his voice gave his tone a new huskiness. She tightened her grip on the bucket handle and moved closer to the fence. Forget about the tight stretch of worn denim over his well-honed muscles, Denham only had to open his mouth and he was every cowgirl’s dream.
‘I see Bandit hasn’t changed.’ She sat the bucket on the ground and rested her arms on the round yard fence. ‘He’s as bad tempered as he was when you bought him off the rodeo circuit. There’s a reason why he was a champion buck jumper.’
Denham’s quiet chuckle washed over her as he too moved closer to the fence. Tippy sat close beside him, swooning at his feet. For a second she thought Denham glanced at her ring finger before he too rested his arms on the rails. The fresh scent of soap and sundried cotton drifted to her on the warm breeze.
‘Bandit’s all bluff and no bite,’ Denham said as the buckskin humped his back and bucked. Sweat darkened the gelding’s flanks and his nostrils flared as he thundered around the circular yard. ‘He’s just letting me know he doesn’t appreciate having his morning siesta interrupted.’
‘You can say that again.’
Cressy watched the gelding’s golden coat ripple before his hindquarters bunched and he kicked out as he sped past. Bandit could turn in a heartbeat and his mood change even faster. The only rider he’d ever allow to stay in the saddle was Denham.
‘He’s almost done,’ Denham said as Bandit slid to a stop, tossed his head and gave a piercing whinny. The chestnut mare who dozed beneath the cedar tree outside the stables flicked a placid ear.
Bandit pawed the ground and then, head held high, cantered over to Denham to nudge his hands. As if he had all the time in the world, Denham ran his palm over Bandit’s forehead. Even though she’d witnessed Denham’s magic before, Cressy stood still and watched as Bandit’s breathing quietened and his head lowered.
Her gaze travelled from the buckskin to the cowboy whose unhurried touch could soothe an agitated horse. Heat filled her cheeks. And whose tender touch could make a no-frills cowgirl feel special and beautiful.
She wasn’t prepared when Denham turned his head. His blue gaze caught hers. She blinked but refused to look away. It was too late to mask her memories or to hide her vulnerability. A muscle worked in his tight jaw. Then Denham broke eye contact to talk softly to the gelding as he pawed the sand.
Cressy lowered her hands from the round yard-rail but didn’t step away. Now would be a sensible time to head inside but while she might be a fool for not being over Denham she wasn’t a coward. She needed to make sure he was okay.
‘Denham … how are you doing?’
He shot her a sideways glance.
‘I’m fine.’ The grooves bracketing his mouth deepened. ‘After I get Bandit’s feet trimmed I’ll be even better. Phil’s been driving me around the farm and it’s time to saddle up and feel the wind on my face.’
‘Sounds like a good plan.’ Even as a boy Denham had disliked confined spaces and had needed to move to release his restlessness. ‘I know you’ll be leaving soon but if you need to … talk … or anything you know where I am.’
‘Thanks.’
His one-word reply emerged low and quiet.
The door of the homestead opened and a tall, elegant woman dressed in jeans and a vivid orange shirt stepped out with a broom in her hand. She caught sight of them and lifted a hand in greeting.
Cressy waved before touching Tippy’s head. ‘Tippy and I’d better head inside before Meredith leaves us nothing to do. She’s probably been up for hours.’
A brief smile shaped Denham’s mouth. ‘She has, she’s been baking. There’s already a tin of Anzac biscuits ready for my morning smoko.’
Cressy matched Denham’s smile. ‘Well, make sure you eat plenty because there’s a reason why your aunt always runs the church fair with an army of volunteers—she never takes no for an answer.’
For a moment Cressy thought a real smile would crinkle the corners of Denham’s eyes but the warmth in his gaze ebbed and she glimpsed the rawness of his grief. His mother used to also help organise the annual fair. ‘I’ll make sure I eat plenty.’
Cressy slid her hands into her jeans pockets to stop herself from curling her fingers around his tanned forearm left bare by his rolled-up shirtsleeves. The days of her offering him comfort were long gone. All she could be now was a concerned neighbour.
‘Great. I’ll leave you to work with Bandit.’ She picked up her bucket. ‘Enjoy your ride.’
‘Will do.’
With Tippy at her heels, Cressy left the red dust of the horse yard and followed the path through the swathe of green lawn to where Meredith swept the front steps. The older woman sneezed as Cressy approached.
‘As much as I love spring …’ Meredith sneezed again and looked towards a garden trellis covered in fragrant white jasmine. ‘I don’t love hayfever. That’s my sweeping done for the day.’
‘That’s my excuse even when it isn’t hayfever season. I’d rather be out in the paddocks any day than inside cleaning.’
A smile showcased Meredith’s high cheekbones. Despite the lines and hollows etched by the years, Meredith retained the beauty that had once seen her crowned Miss Woodlea Showgirl.
‘Your mother was the same but it was her garden that she’d loved to spend time in.’
‘She sure did.’ Cressy climbed the veranda steps to link her arm with Meredith’s. Sadness had threaded the older woman’s words. Meredith, Cressy’s mother and Audrey had all enjoyed a close and special friendship. Now Meredith was the only woman left.
Together they entered the cool of the homestead. Large rooms radiated off the wide hallway in which dust sheets covered darklegged furniture. Gilded-framed landscapes hung on walls that stretched to meet pressed metal ceilings. Once a grand and stately home, Claremont now resembled a museum. Audrey had moved into the small but cosy granny flat within a side wing of the house. Here she had a view of the undulating hills that she loved. She was also cocooned from the memories of a home that had once echoed with the footsteps of a husband and a son who were no longer with her.
Me
redith opened the door to the granny flat and the sweet smell of fresh baking greeted them. The hum of the oven sounded and through the glass Cressy could see the dark contour of a chocolate cake. Denham had better be hungry as he’d soon have more than Anzac biscuits for morning smoko.
Cressy’s attention lingered on Meredith as she reached for a floral oven mitt on the bench. Why Meredith never married or had a family of her own to bake for remained a mystery. All Cressy’s mother ever said was that as an only daughter, Meredith had led a sheltered life. From the sorrow Cressy glimpsed when Meredith thought no-one was looking, Cressy guessed there’d been more to the story.
Meredith smiled and slipped on the oven mitt. ‘I’ll take out Denham’s cake, put a quiche on for lunch and then come and help with Audrey’s books.’
‘Sounds good. I’ll get started on the big bookshelf.’
Cressy made her way through the flat to a small alcove in which a padded green wingchair faced an oversized window. This room was the last to be cleaned and sorted. Throat aching, Cressy smoothed the plush velvet on the back of the chair. Audrey had arrived a city girl but would have spent her last days with her cowboy son by her side and looking over her favourite rural view.
Dust smudged the sky and Cressy moved a little to her left to see where Denham was working Bandit. He now stood in the centre of the round yard and the gelding cantered around him in an even and controlled circle. Denham was right. The gelding had soon settled.
The ache in her throat intensified. She’d spent hours sitting on a hay bale watching as Denham worked with a stubborn Bandit in the yard to earn his trust. She swung away from the window to grab the closest pile of books from off the largest bookshelf. Enough was enough. She couldn’t just appear to be over Denham. She had to be over him for real. It was time to fit the pieces of her heart back together.
Bandit might be a one-man horse but she wasn’t going to waste any more time being a one-man woman. She set the books she held on the floor and reached for a second pile. Especially when that man didn’t love her.
The Red Dirt Road Page 30