Down Outback Roads (19 page)

‘Whiskey, it’s just us two rabbits left awake.’

Kree stretched her cramped arms above her head and released a soft sigh. Beside her, Whiskey thumped his tail on the concrete of Ewan’s man-cave. Outside, midnight pressed in on the brightly lit machinery shed. Despite the fatigue that dragged at her like an ocean undertow, she wasn’t ready to call it a night. Her agitated brain was far from tired.

Fudge and Freckle lay curled up on Marellen’s back verandah. The historic homestead was fast becoming their second home. Tish was hopefully asleep. She and Travis had worked tirelessly at the working bee and then Tish had spent the evening preparing her mother’s room. The closer tomorrow loomed, the more the light faded in her green eyes. As for Ewan, he’d delivered the now base-coated plywood boards to the shed and then left.

As much as his decision to press stop on their connection made perfect sense, her heart and hormones continued to argue with her head. She’d spent a restless night mulling over his words, and by morning could see the sense in just being
friends. Such a conclusion had nothing to do with him not being worthy, and everything to do with both of their family duties. She had Seth, and he had Tish and the boys to think of.

And then she’d seen Ewan laughing with Cassandra in the park and all thoughts of logic had become buried under a landslide of emotion. Her mouth might have said that she agreed with his decision, but her heart had staged a revolt. And, from the inscrutable expression that had once again slipped over his features after their coach-house talk, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t hope his own emotions weren’t also staging a rebellion.

Kree looked over at the scaled-down sketch beside her that she’d drawn of a stage coach being robbed by bushrangers. She’d worked hard to ensure the proportion and the colours were as accurate as possible. Not only did she want to create a scene that tied in with the history of the Cobb and Co. coach house, she also wanted the composition to do her father’s own detailed mural designs justice.

Her long discussion with Anne hadn’t yielded any new information about either her father or her mother. She’d hoped for some news on the murals, as well as a lead on the mysterious cabin in her mother’s papers. Anne had mentioned an elderly woman called Mrs Fisher, whose husband had once worked at the pub, who might know something. Anne had kindly offered to contact her, as Mrs Fisher found it hard to hear and Kree’s accent might prove difficult to understand. So, until Anne called Mrs Fisher, Kree had to be patient.

She dipped a brush in sky-blue acrylic paint and climbed onto the stepladder.

Whiskey’s ears flickered towards the open door before Ewan walked into the pool of light. Dressed in clean jeans and
a familiar charcoal t-shirt, his wet hair suggested he’d been for a late-night swim.

She climbed down the stepladder and balanced the paintbrush on the edge of the colourful palette.

Ewan bent to rub behind Whiskey’s ears and then gave Kree a guarded grin.

‘Before Tish called it a night, she said to tell you she’s got your room ready and that there’s no way I’m to let you drive to Berridale.’

‘Thanks, but I’m fine. I might leave Freckle and Fudge here, though, if that’s all right? I’ll be back early to keep working, but I’ve left a bottle of Fudge’s milk in the fridge for breakfast, if the boys want to feed her.’

‘I’m sure they would.’ Ewan folded his arms. She blanked out the flex of the smooth skin of his biceps. ‘But you’re not driving to the Tylers’. It’s too late.’

‘No, it’s not.’ The heaviness of her eyelids made a mockery of her words.

He uncrossed his arms. Her breath caught as his thumb brushed the shadows she knew underlined her eyes.

‘Yes. It. Is. You’re bushed. Tish also suggested while you’re working on the mural you stay here. That way you can paint whenever you want, day or night.’

Kree shook her head, even though such an idea would guarantee she’d finish within the timeframe for the official tourist centre opening, which Beth had pencilled in for the end of next week. ‘You and I both know living under the same roof isn’t the best way to stay away from each other.’

Ewan didn’t move or reply. He stared at her like a parched man denied water. She knew she should step away, but her happy-dancing heart told her not to move a
muscle. His thumb gently brushed across her lips. Her knees weakened.

‘I thought we agreed it’s the best thing to cool things between us,’ she whispered.

‘I know.’ He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her lips parted, even as her skin soaked up the tenderness of his touch. ‘But,’ he said as his mouth sought hers, ‘that doesn’t stop me from wanting what I shouldn’t.’

Even before Ewan identified Hazel MacTavish-West’s beige, prestige car on Marellen’s driveway the next afternoon, he knew Tish’s mother had arrived. Midget was hiding in her kennel, only her little black nose peeking out. An eerie silence rested over the homestead. There were no boyish yells from the pool, no country music blaring from the kitchen – the only sound was the crunch of his slowing footsteps on the gravel, as he and Whiskey returned from checking the cattle.

Tish’s manic cleaning had resumed the instant Darby had chewed the last mouthful of his vegemite toast. Across the kitchen table, Kree had met his eyes. From the warmth that flushed her cheeks, he knew she was thinking about the kiss they shouldn’t have shared. A kiss he couldn’t stop thinking about either. When she was in his arms and her soft lips on his, all the arguments for walking away ceased to exist.

Kree had taken the boys to Berridale to check on the lambing ewes and to pack her bag to stay at Marellen. Despite her reluctance to stay last night she’d slept in her old room and also accepted Tish’s breakfast invitation to stay while she finished the mural. Even though she’d chewed on her bottom lip and glanced his way before telling Tish she’d only stay if
she could help with the boys so Tish could relax and enjoy her mother’s visit. After lunch, Kree resumed painting and he’d taken over distracting the boys. He’d only ducked away to check on the UltraBlacks.

Kree might be convinced his luck at Marellen had changed, but he wasn’t so sure. The cattle-duffing rumour might be false, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The UltraBlacks would be a stock thief’s dream. Worth a mint, easy to handle and in good condition, they’d make an obvious target. With the drought having broken, the cattle market was again buoyant. The news of his fancy cows wouldn’t have circulated only around the Glenalla bush telegraph. Today he’d snapped photos on his phone and noted any distinguishing characteristics. The first thing stock thieves would do was cut out the identifying green ear tags.

Whiskey left Ewan’s side to trot over to the Jack Russell and his own kennel.

‘Good call, Whisk. I’ll soon be joining you in the dog house.’

He gave Tish’s mother and himself five minutes before hostilities began. Hazel might be used to her scholarly and mild-mannered husband, but Ewan didn’t possess Richard’s patience, or his selective deafness.

Ewan stepped onto the sandstone path leading to the front steps and paused to enjoy the last moment of tranquillity.

‘
Leticia
,’ an imperious and horrified voice shrieked from inside, ‘there’s a
goat
in the
house
!’

Tiny hooves clattered on wood as Fudge burst through the open front screen door, as though being chased by a wicked witch. The black goat bleated as she sped past Ewan, towards Whiskey and Midget.

Hazel appeared in the doorway, a broom in her hand and an expression of abject disgust on her surgically smooth face. An expression that didn’t change as she spied Ewan. His feet dragged up the front steps. He knew better than to kiss her powdered cheek. He inclined his head, ‘Hazel.’

She tilted her immaculate blonde bob in return and smoothed the skirt on her bottle-green suit. ‘Ewan.’

The cloying scent of expensive perfume smothered him like a suffocating dust cloud.

Over her shoulder, he saw Tish duck into the hallway, give him a relieved smile, and then disappear into the kitchen.

‘There was a
goat
in the
house
!’

‘Yes. Her name is Fudge.’

‘I don’t care what her name is. She’s left …’ Hazel’s manicured nails fluttered over her chest, ‘she’s left little round balls in the hallway.’

‘She’s not yet house trained.’

Temper thinned the too-plump line of Hazel’s lips. ‘Not
yet
house trained. If you think I’ll stand by while you let a goat live in the house with my grandsons, think again. My friends already think Leticia has let herself go. Everyone was shocked at the state of her nails when she came to Richard’s birthday. And don’t get me started on her hair -’

‘I won’t.’ Ewan scrubbed a hand over his face. His estimated five-minute cease-fire had been optimistic. ‘Hazel, for the sake of Tish, surely we can at least pretend to be civil. I was making a joke. Fudge lives outside. She only came inside because someone propped open the screen door with her beauty case.’

‘Oh.’

Both turned to look at the out-of-place, designer beauty case acting as a door stop.

Hazel glided forward to hand him the broom. Ewan shrugged off the dislike hardening her green eyes. Hazel hated to come off second-best. She removed the case and the screen door swung shut with a bang.

‘Well, if you had a screen door that closed faster, I wouldn’t have had to prop it open to chase out the fly that followed me in.’

Ewan simply nodded. They’d both witnessed how fast the screen door shut. He caught a glimpse through the screen of Tish, dustpan in hand, as she cleared Fudge’s hallway mess.

‘So, Hazel, how long do we have the pleasure of your company?’

‘That’s up to Tish.’

Ewan’s senses sharpened. ‘In what way?’

Hazel turned to open the door. ‘That’s between my daughter and myself.’

The screen door shut quickly behind her.

His hands fisted around the broom. The old witch. She didn’t need to say any more. He knew why she’d come. Tish didn’t think he knew, but he was well aware of Hazel’s pressure that Tish return to the life she had left behind. Hazel had come to coerce Tish and the boys to the city.

‘Ewan, what’s wrong?’ Kree questioned quietly from beside him.

He eased his grip on the broom handle and faced her. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he hadn’t heard her walk over from the machinery shed. A smudge of orange paint decorated the curve of her cheek. He secured his hands on the broom to stop himself wiping away the paint smear. He’d played with fire last night by touching her, he couldn’t do so again. He had to honour their mutual agreement to keep their distance.

‘Is Tish’s mother already causing problems?’ she asked, searching his face.

‘Is the sky blue? That might be her car over there, but I’m sure she flew in on this.’ Ewan held out the broom.

Kree smiled. ‘She can’t be that bad.’

Ewan kinked a brow. ‘Tell that to Fudge. I’ve never seen the poor little thing run so fast. And as for Freckle, he must have already high-tailed it to safety somewhere, as I haven’t even seen him.’

The front screen door flew open before Hazel’s power-heels clacked on the verandah. Whatever Hazel had come to say remained unsaid as her eyes swept over Kree. Her sculpted eyebrows rose. Ewan knew she wouldn’t see past the oversized, paint-splattered shirt to the beauty and sweetness below that was Kree Garrett.

‘Hello, Mrs MacTavish-West,’ Kree said, her hand outstretched. ‘I’m Kree. The American. We spoke over the phone.’

Ewan thought Hazel would refuse to shake Kree’s rainbow-coloured hand, but then she relented.

‘Good afternoon. Yes, I do remember. I thought you were the long-overdue nanny.’ Hazel slipped her hand free. ‘Tish said you were staying longer to do some … mural.’

Unfazed by Hazel’s coolness, Kree smiled. ‘That’s right.’

Ewan spoke, uncaring that Hazel would hear the pride in his voice. ‘Kree has single-handedly put Glenalla on the tourist map. The Cobb and Co. coach house is now a tourist centre and the town will soon be officially christened “a town of murals”.’

‘Thanks, Ewan, but it hasn’t just been me, the whole of Glenalla has helped out. And if I don’t get this mural finished, there’ll be no official opening. So, if you’ll excuse me?’

Hazel barely nodded.

Hand on the screen door handle, Kree briefly turned. ‘I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, Mrs MacTavish-West. Sally Willis is a family friend.’

Without waiting for an answer, Kree entered the homestead.

Shock crawled across Hazel’s time-frozen features, quickly followed by what Ewan guessed was delight. He’d never actually seen Hazel smile. She rushed after Kree as fast as her heels would allow.

Ewan chuckled as he headed inside to return the broom to the laundry. Kree had more than handled Hazel. Whoever Sally Willis was, Kree’s connection seemed to have guaranteed Hazel’s approval.

A shriek sounded from the sitting room, followed by Kree’s calm, ‘It’s okay, Hazel. This is Freckle, he won’t hurt you.’

‘What’s this
beast
doing asleep on the lounge? I almost sat on him. He could have fleas or all sorts of nasty things. Just look at those teeth …’