‘Where did you meet?’
‘I was a shearer. Came to work on her dad’s place and there she was bringing the tea and those you beaut scones for us at smoko.’
‘Sixty years ago next year that was. I was eighteen,’ said Sal. ‘He was a string bean of a bloke but there was something about him. He could charm the legs off a lizard.’
‘How could she resist me?’ said Les, and took another scone.
Chapter 20
Oliver returned home tired and glad to be out of the city. Going back had been unavoidable and he was happy to have reforged a bond with Julian. The years had made a difference and he sensed a respect from his big brother he hadn’t felt before. His mum, of course, had been delighted to have both her boys to herself. Saying goodbye to her had been harder this time than when he stormed off after graduating university, an angry young man defying his father.
His father hadn’t changed much, not deep down. He might mouth remorse and pledge to take better care of his wife in the future, but Oliver and Julian had doubts. His mother, however, had taken a look at her life and found it wanting.
‘I’ve had enough of being your father’s hanger-on,’ she announced. Not that she was thinking of leaving him.
‘Goodness no, I’d never do that,’ she said when Oliver made a tentative, rather shocked enquiry. ‘I love your father and he does love me, despite what you boys might think.’
‘What do you mean then?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to start saying no,’ she said.
Oliver almost cheered. ‘About time.’
‘I’m going to do the things I want to do. I’m going to take a season ticket to the opera, go on a cruise with some girlfriends and I’m going to come to your show,’ she said. ‘Whether your father wants to go with me or not is up to him.’
‘Our show won’t be anything like what you’ll see at the Opera House, Ma,’ he said.
She stretched out a pale hand and patted his. ‘Do you think that matters to me or, I imagine, anyone else who’ll be in your audience?’
‘No, fortunately. I’d love you to come and stay.’ He hesitated a beat then said. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Krista.’
‘What a pretty name.’
‘So is she.’
‘Is it serious?’
‘I hope so. I am.’
‘I’d love to meet her,’ she said.
***
His first thought on waking the following morning was to phone Krista. Then he realised it was five-thirty and got out of bed instead, to prepare for the day. A week off would have its price. At seven, in the middle of the morning chores, he answered his phone with a leap of the heart before he saw it wasn’t her.
‘Veterinary Practice.’
‘Oliver Johnson? It’s Barnaby Locke. Our cat was fighting last night and I think she’s injured, although I can’t see anything wrong. She’s really sick and unresponsive. Won’t eat and so on. Can I bring her over?’
‘Yep. It’s probably an abscess from a bite wound. It can cause blood poisoning.’
‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes? Sorry to call so early but we’re a bit worried and the kids are very upset.’
And so it began.
By the time he’d finished with the cat and Barnaby had gone home to report to the family that Peach was to stay overnight at Oliver’s, Margie arrived to prepare for morning surgery and fill him in on the week’s events.
She finished the professional aspect and said casually, ‘Krista is doing well. Receiving visitors now.’
‘What visitors and how do you know?’ Stupid question, he knew that. So did she because she ignored it.
‘Les and Sal went to see her and said she was lovely. Very welcoming.’
‘That’s good.’ Would he be as welcome?
‘She’s been working on those sets too, nearly finished them apparently. Abbie’s really happy. Those two get on well. Nice for Krista to have made a friend.’ Margie eyed Oliver as though she expected a comment but he grunted and turned away. What could he say?
When he surfaced next it was lunchtime, and he escaped to the house for a bowl of tinned soup with the emergency bread from the freezer. A trip to the supermarket was crucial. He could go late this afternoon after he’d been to the Daley’s dairy farm. He wouldn’t be able to fit in any other calls.
Calling Krista was tempting but he’d leave it till this evening. If she was recovering as well as Margie said, she might be ready for a visit, but he had to be careful in his approach. How he went about wooing her would affect the rest of their lives and it couldn’t be rushed. She was like an injured animal, wary and afraid but wanting to trust, wanting to be healed and in her case, loved. A wrong move and she might close right down and negate the steps she’d taken, go on the attack or bolt.
Not phoning while he was away had been deliberate even though he wanted to hear her voice, tell her the little details of his days and hear all about hers. The more time slipped by, the more he missed her with an almost physical pain. He was used to dealing with wounded, fearful animals and trust was the basic building block. He’d only been away a week and she knew and understood why. With any luck she’d be eagerly awaiting his return.
What haunted him was the danger that she would move on without him, forge a new life for herself at The Grange, with new interests and new friends that didn’t include him. Margie’s comments were bittersweet. He wanted with all his heart that Krista regain her life, but he wanted to be in it.
The trip to the dairy farm took much longer than he expected and he put off going to the supermarket and dropped in to Laurie and Dot’s store for bread, eggs and milk instead. As usual they were full of gossip, most of which he let wash over his head, but when Krista’s name was mentioned he focused.
‘She’s coming good according to Abbie. Helping out with the sets and costumes and all that sort of thing for the show. Some bloke from the city is coming to stay with her. Must be a friend of hers.’
‘When’s he coming?’
‘Don’t know exactly. Abbie mentioned it but she had the baby with her so she couldn’t chat for long. Sweet little thing, that Charlotte.’
Who would that bloke be? A friend, of course, she’d have plenty, but what sort of friend and why would he be coming alone? How long would he be staying?
As he drove, Oliver planned to cook up a big frittata and salad with vegetables from the garden, but when he got home he’d lost his appetite. Krista was obviously not concerned about her scar anymore but she didn’t want to see him. Suddenly the phone call he’d been looking forward to making didn’t seem such a good idea. He went to the bathroom for a shower and a change of clothes, but the warm water calmed his mind and as he dried himself he came to a decision.
How would he know what she was thinking if he didn’t talk to her? Dressed and refreshed, he dialled without hesitation.
‘Hi Krista, how are you?’
‘Oliver. You’re back. How’s your mother?’ The happy tone lifted his heart.
‘She’s fine. The operation went smoothly and she went home quite quickly.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘What about your father?’
‘Much the same.’ He didn’t want to talk about his father. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘I finished the sets, so I’m helping Maureen with the costumes.’
‘They’ve got you working.’
‘I’m enjoying it.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Thank you, Oliver. It’s because of you I got involved in the first place.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m really glad it worked out. What about The Grange? How’s that working out?’
‘Really well. My financial advisor is coming next week to give us advice on how to set up the partnership.’
‘Coming here?’
‘Yes, to The Grange.’
&
nbsp; ‘That’s good.’
So that’s who the visitor was. He should have known better than get himself in a tangle over local gossip.
Silence. He thought it might signal the end. That they had nothing more to say to each other, even though his head was bursting with questions he didn’t dare ask and his heart with love he didn’t dare express.
‘Les and Sal came to see me last week,’ she said. ‘I had no idea she had a burned arm. Why didn’t anyone tell me?’
‘No-one thought of it, I suppose. People stop noticing after a while.’
‘I’m glad they came. Sal was … she helped. A lot.’
The relief nearly choked him.
‘Oliver? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, Krista, I’d really like to see you. Can I visit? This evening maybe?’ He held his breath.
‘No …’ His heart stopped. ‘I mean no, I’ll visit you. Is that all right?’ She sounded almost afraid of his response.
His heart restarted, beating twice as fast as before.
‘If you want, but I don’t mind driving out there.’
‘I’m not at home, I’m in town, at Maureen’s. We’ve been sorting out costumes.’
‘Have you eaten?’ Said as casually as he could manage.
‘No.’
‘Neither have I. Is vegetable frittata and salad okay?’
‘Anything is fine. I’ll be about twenty minutes.’
Oliver walked up and unlocked the gate, then waited in a fever of impatience for the sound of her car. She was coming to visit, which was a massive step for her to take, but was it as a friend? Was she testing herself by going out but restricting herself to people she knew and who knew her story? People who wouldn’t stare and be shocked. Abbie had laid the groundwork but Sal must have given her the boost of confidence, support and perspective she needed to get her out of the house.
Where did he fit in Krista’s new world?
A car door slammed then she knocked. He flung the door open.
She was beautiful, more perfect than he remembered. The gold of the setting sun gave her hair and skin a soft glow. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, carefully casually, the way friends do.
‘Come in.’
She had a shopping bag in her hand. ‘I brought wine,’ she said. Strands of blonde hair dropped down, partially obscuring her scarred cheek, but she wasn’t trying so hard to hide her face. The scar had faded in the weeks since he’d seen her.
‘Good idea.’
He turned and led the way to the kitchen. She wore jeans that looked new, and a white blouse. Her plain black sandals had flat soles. She still looked as though she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine but that original arrogance had long gone, and with it the useless trendy clothes.
She placed the shopping bag on the table and removed the bottle. Oliver took two glasses from the shelf and poured.
‘To you,’ he said and raised his glass.
‘To you,’ she said and raised hers.
Her eyes met his and held for a long moment, then she looked away.
‘Do you need some help with the vegetables? For dinner?’ She went across to the bench where he’d put zucchini, tomatoes, garlic and onions on a chopping board.
‘Why didn’t you want to see me?’ he blurted. ‘After you went home from the hospital.’ He put his glass on the table. He couldn’t get through the evening ahead without knowing, couldn’t pretend it hadn’t hurt.
‘I’m sorry. I … I couldn’t face you.’
‘But why? Why me of all people? I found you and I took you to hospital. I thought we were in this together.’ The weeks of anguish broke through, making his voice waver. He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.
‘I was ugly,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. Especially you.’
Her words stunned him. ‘You were never ugly. You were injured and you’re healing now.’
‘I understand that now but then, when it happened I … I’ll never be how I was before.’ Unshed tears made her eyes luminous, the blue deeper. Fear lurked in her expression, fear of rejection. Fear he would reject her. He knew now, knew she loved him.
‘No, you won’t. You’ve changed, you’re stronger, better and more beautiful than ever.’ He stepped forward and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘Why did you think a scar would matter to me?’ he asked softly.
‘How I looked was what attracted you and without that … what did I have left?’
Was it really that simple and yet for her so cripplingly complicated?
‘You. You were still you. Wonderful, amazing, unique you.’ He shook his head. ‘Did you really think I fell in love with you because of your looks alone?’
‘Fell in love?’ Her eyes widened and a smile crept across her face.
‘I fell in love with you ages ago but what could I offer a beautiful city girl?’
‘You. Wonderful, amazing, unique you. I’ve loved you … forever.’
Then she was in his arms, body pressed against his, arms around his neck, her lips on his.
***
Krista sat with Oliver’s parents for the opening night of Patience, along with most of Taylor’s Bend. The rest of the population was turning up for the second show the following night. She and Maureen were taking a night each checking costumes backstage so they could both see the performance. Abbie and Rupe sat in the row behind with Georgia, chatting and laughing.
‘Oliver’s a nervous wreck,’ said Krista to his mother, her eyes fixed on him, sitting in the small orchestra in front of the stage, as they waited for the show to begin. The cello solo had given him many a sleepless night lately but she’d heard it at rehearsals, a very funny scene with one of the singers, and it was perfect.
‘He could have been a professional cellist,’ said his father. ‘He has the talent.’
‘He didn’t want to be,’ said Emily. ‘He wanted to be a vet, but I’m glad he kept his cello.’
‘He’s been enjoying playing again—apart from the nerves,’ said Krista.
Dr Francis Johnson reminded her of the people Hugh mixed with, the movers and shakers and the people with power. Sitting in an old Arts Centre building in a small country town watching an amateur performance of Gilbert and Sullivan would be his worst nightmare come true according to Oliver, just as it would be for her own mother and Hugh. They hadn’t bothered to come. Francis had, she’d pointed out.
The people she’d met in Taylor’s Bend worked hard and gave newcomers a chance to prove themselves, regardless of who they were or where they were from. News had broken recently that Stefan Moran was under investigation by the tax department for tax evasion and money laundering with further corruption and murder charges expected to be laid by the federal police in a much wider criminal network. One of the names mentioned had been on Hugh’s party guest list.
It was a world she didn’t miss in the slightest.
‘Oliver’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him,’ Emily said, giving Krista’s arm a squeeze. ‘And it’s all your fault.’
‘He’s really happy you came to visit.’
‘We’ll be back for the wedding in October.’
‘Can’t imagine why you two would want to be married here and not in Sydney,’ said Francis.
Emily raised her eyebrows at Krista and sighed.
Oliver looked across and caught her eye. He smiled and mouthed a kiss.
‘It’s our home,’ said Krista. ‘It’s where we belong.’
Thanks for reading Where There is Smoke. I hope you enjoyed it. This book is Book 2 in the Taylor’s Bend series—Book 1 is The Secrets That Lie Within.
Reviews can help readers find books, and I am grateful for all honest reviews. Thank you for taking the time to let others know what you’ve read, and what you thought.
If you liked this book, here are my other books: The House At Flynn’s Crossing, Find Her, Empty Heart, Evidence of Love, Mango Kisses, E for England and The Ripple Effect.
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Where There Is Smoke Page 30