Down Outback Roads (15 page)

Kree stroked Freckle’s velvety head to put him to sleep. It wasn’t often she could sit and cuddle the active red-heeler. The pup sighed and buried his head into the crook of her arm. Fudge was already snuggled in her bed on the back verandah, after her bottle of dinner milk.

To the left of where Kree was sitting in the white wicker chair on the front verandah, crickets chirped, while to her right a contented frog croaked near the full rainwater tank. The past two days of rain had returned Tish’s garden to a glossy green, and scented the breeze with the aroma of damp soil. In town, dusty vehicles were washed clean and the sole topic of conversation was how much rain everyone had had.

Kree studied the indigo sky in which unfamiliar southern hemisphere stars glittered. By mid-afternoon the clouds had dispersed, and tomorrow would dawn with the promise of fine weather. Would Ewan look at a similar morning sky? He’d called before dinner to let Tish know he’d arrived in Queensland and that it had rained almost the entire trip.

Kree caught her sigh before it disturbed the snoozing Freckle. Ewan hadn’t been gone twelve hours and already it felt like a week. After hugging and kissing Tish and the boys goodbye that morning, he’d stopped before her, eyes fathomless. Conscious of Braye and Darby’s curious gazes, she’d smiled and wished him safe travels. She wasn’t family and Ewan didn’t need to treat her as though she was. But like he’d done to Tish, Ewan leaned in close and kissed her cheek. There was nothing platonic in the caress of his lips or in the hunger of his slate-grey eyes as he drew away. Nor in the responsive leap of her senses. One heady kiss with Ewan would never be enough.

Kree raised a hand to her heated face. Even now, she couldn’t think of Ewan’s touch without her internal thermostat imploding. She couldn’t continue to let her hormones overrule her head. She had to use their days apart not to miss him but to plan how to keep their relationship at a controllable and safe level. The closer she let him draw, the greater the risk she wouldn’t be able to pull away and the deeper the hurt. There could be no outcome other than putting her brother and family duty before her feelings, no matter how much her heart argued otherwise.

Freckle stirred. She ran her hand over his warm back to settle him. She had a zillion things to arrange and sitting here thinking of Ewan wasn’t on her to-do list. Tomorrow would be a momentous day. The keys to the coach house would arrive by registered post. She’d also be spending the morning going through the historical archives in the library with Anne, searching for mural inspiration. Anne might even have the answer to where the cabin in her mother’s sketch could be found. She should really head inside.

But her strange lethargy wasn’t only a by-product of missing Ewan. Today was the anniversary of her mother’s death. Kree had spoken to Seth early, then made sure she kept herself busy, researching and ordering items for the visitors centre. Despite the day’s intense emotion, for some reason she now felt an inexplicable sense of peace. She gazed around the generous verandah with its intricate, white, wrought-iron trim. There was something about the old homestead that made her feel hope that one day the torn threads of her own family tapestry could be restitched.

It might be the joy that gladdened her heart at every meal, sitting around the noisy kitchen table with Ewan, Tish and the boys. Or the flurry in her stomach when she caught Ewan’s grey eyes on her. Or today’s feeling that the house shared her misery at Ewan being away. Every floorboard creak or rattle of a glass pane seemed to echo her sense of loss. The homestead had been constructed for a family who hadn’t ever had a chance to fill it with love and laughter. The small room next to the boys’ large one had been built as a nursery for a generation that didn’t ever arrive. She snuggled deeper into the chair cushion. But whatever the reason Marellen made her feel at home, she almost felt … whole again. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since her parents were both alive.

‘Braye, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing?’ Tish called out from behind the flapping sheet she was struggling to peg onto the clothesline. The rain may have passed but a roguish wind remained.

‘Braye?’ But only the warble of a black-and-white magpie perched on the iron bird bath answered. Tish eyed off the
bird. Come spring and the magpie wouldn’t sing so sweetly. Tish was sure he was the male who swooped anyone who ventured near the tall gum where his chicks nested.

She secured the last peg in place and walked around the wet sheet. As she suspected, the green garden hose ran from the tap near the back door in the direction of the boys’ sandpit. Braye had asked at breakfast if he and Darby could build a sandcastle. An idea she’d agreed to, knowing it would prevent them asking every five minutes how much longer until Ewan would be home that afternoon. Braye had since decided every sandcastle needed a moat. Darby may have agreed, but he knew the rule that water wasn’t allowed in the sandpit, since Braye had once flooded it to make quick sand.

Tish repressed a smile. The characteristics that sometimes made strong-willed Braye a handful would stand him in good stead for dealing with life as an adult. She had no doubt Braye and Ewan shared the same stubborn Mackenzie DNA. Before pancreatic cancer had claimed Alice, Ewan and Fergus’s mother, she’d delighted in telling stories about headstrong Ewan, who as a small boy would put on his hat and boots in a heat wave and walk the long driveway to collect the mail for her on her birthday.

Tish tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ears and headed towards the sandpit. Alice had also recounted stories about Fergus, but usually such stories involved the mischief he’d caused and had ended with the words, ‘I mean, look at that smile, how could anyone stay mad at him?’

Tish glanced at the uninhabited garden cottage, still visible through the screen of conifer shrubs that were yet to grow tall and wide. Fergus’s charming smile had dazzled her into believing she was in love with him. They’d met at the Sydney
races. Fergus had been fun and attentive and had delighted in taking her home to the bush to show her off at every possible social function.

As for her mother, she’d been beside herself that her daughter had caught a man with acres and would live the life of the landed gentry. ‘All the French cooking lessons, the deportment classes and the private schools were worth every penny,’ she’d gushed the night Tish and Fergus had announced their whirlwind engagement. It had only been her quiet and bookish father who’d drawn her aside and questioned if Fergus was the right man for her. In her naivety, she’d hugged him and assured him Fergus was.

After their marriage and move to the cottage at Marellen, she’d realised she preferred getting her hands dirty to attending picnic race meetings. But the more she discovered who she was, the more Fergus wanted her to stay the polished and compliant wife he’d married. Just before their first anniversary, she’d realised it was the freedom of the wide-open rural spaces and the camaraderie of the close-knit community she’d fallen in love with, not Fergus. Just after their first anniversary, she’d found out she was pregnant.

Her frown turned into a smile as she rounded the house corner and saw Braye filling his dump truck with the garden hose. Darby stood beside the castle, hands on hips, registering his disapproval. How she loved her polar-opposite twins. Even before they were born, the boys had brought constant light to her life and given her the motivation to fight for her marriage.

Her smile died. A battle she’d lost long before Fergus insisted on drinking with his mates that stormy summer evening. A battle she still fought. Her shoulders squared.

Ewan could never know the real reason why Fergus headed into town that fateful day.

The Glenalla town sign flashed by and Ewan stretched. After a ten-hour drive, he felt as though his spine had fused. It’d been a long but successful trip. The UltraBlack cattle had been purchased and a carrier arranged to deliver them.

He slowed his ute to a crawl as a stray brown dog crossed the road. He’d soon be home with his own doggy-mate. He’d missed having Whiskey to talk to. He’d also missed hypo Midget and the terrible-twosome of Fudge and Freckle. He’d called Tish and the boys every morning and every bedtime but as much as he’d missed them, there was another person he’d left behind who’d preoccupied his thoughts day and night.

Heading to Marellen via Glenalla added an hour but it was worth the extra driving time to see Kree. His desperation bordered on an obsession and the sooner he saw her, the sooner he could re-focus on what he needed to. He had cattle to manage, a farm to restore financial liquidity to and feelings to keep in check. When he’d spoken to Tish at lunch, she’d said Kree would be at the coach house and suggested he call in and see what the morning’s working bee had achieved. Ewan hadn’t needed an excuse.

But now uneasiness gnawed within him. He was supposed to be keeping his distance, so what was he doing going out of his way to visit her? His tension increased alongside his anticipation as he stopped in front of the small park. The Tylers’ dual-cab ute was the only other vehicle in sight. Good. He didn’t need an audience to witness how much he needed to see Kree.

Mouth dry, he knocked on the front door of the coach house.

‘Door’s open,’ Kree called, voice muffled. ‘Come on in.’

He walked into the dimly lit building and saw her standing on a stepladder, her back to him, as she stretched to change a light bulb.

‘Need a hand?’ he asked.

Whoever she’d expected, it wasn’t him. Her arms instantly lowered and she swung around, swaying on the ladder. He grasped her jean-clad hips to steady her. Her palms briefly rested on his shoulders as she balanced herself. The familiar scent of vanilla enveloped him. Her shocked eyes met his and then slid away. His stomach tightened. She hadn’t missed him as he’d missed her. Certain now she was stable, he released her and buried his hands deep in his jean pockets. He should have never given in to the urgency to see her. He’d make polite small talk and leave.

‘Thanks,’ she said as she climbed down the ladder steps. ‘I’ve never been good with heights.’ She set the light globe onto the chair closest to her and turned with a smile. ‘I thought you were Bill coming over from the pub, so this is a nice surprise. I didn’t think you’d be back until tonight.’

In the days since he’d seen her, he’d forgotten how her eyes shone when she smiled, how her smooth skin urged him to feel its softness and how deep was the yearning to have this woman by his side.

He shrugged. ‘I left early.’

‘The boys will be thrilled. They’ve been bugging Tish since before breakfast about when you would be home.’

‘I can’t wait to see them, too. But I promised Tish I’d stop every two hours, so here I am.’

‘I’m glad you stopped.’

His hands eased out of his pockets. A touch of colour painted her cheeks. Was she pleased to see him, after all? ‘How about I take care of the light bulb while I’m here? Even with the ladder, you’ll have trouble reaching the ceiling.’

‘That would be great.’ She collected the bulb from the chair. ‘But only if you’ll stay for a coffee. You look tired.’

He caught his frown before it fully formed. He’d seen her and now he had to get back on the road.

‘It’s non-negotiable,’ she added. ‘No ladder climbing if no coffee.’

Determination firmed her words, but it was the vulnerability in her eyes that made the decision for him. She wanted him to stay.

‘Okay. A quick coffee would be great. I know better than to argue with a self-confessed control-freak.’

‘Good call.’ Her smile shone sunrise bright as she passed him the bulb.

She watched him scale the ladder before heading to a small room behind the counter. The hum of an electric kettle sounded.

‘Sorry,’ she said as she re-appeared. ‘The commercial coffee machine hasn’t arrived, so you’ll have to make do with instant. The courier should be here tomorrow. He’s also bringing the art supplies I need for the first mural.’

‘Anything with caffeine sounds good to me,’ he said as he descended the ladder and tossed the blown bulb into a box containing rubbish. ‘And the boys sounded excited about the paint arriving. I think they have visions of being let loose with a paintbrush.’