Down Outback Roads (23 page)

‘I can’t believe you’re willing to poison Old Harry with chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies,’ Ewan said.

Kree patted the plastic container she balanced on her lap as she sat in the passenger seat of his ute. ‘Old Harry is about to have his culinary world rocked.’ She cast him a cheeky sideways glance. ‘Besides, I thought you said they weren’t that bad.’

‘I think what I said was they were … edible.’

Her sunglasses shaded her eyes and focused his attention on her smiling mouth. ‘Well, for just edible cookies, you ate three of them.’

Ewan forced himself to concentrate on the road and not on what he really wanted to be doing with Kree right now. He didn’t know what was worse, the need to kiss her that had burned from the moment she’d smiled her sad, sweet smile. Or now, knowing he could kiss her any chance he could get. They were already running late for morning tea at Old Harry’s because they’d snuck into her room when the boys had gone to fill their backpacks with whatever they needed for their morning at Travis’s farm.

‘True. You do know Old Harry calls it as he sees it. If he doesn’t like the cookies, he’ll let you know.’

‘As long as he can tell me about my father and the murals, he can say anything he likes. I still can’t believe Harry is who Mrs Fisher told Anne I needed to see about the murals.’

‘I know. He’d be the last person I’d have suggested. Having said that, for someone who hates going to town, he does still seem to know what’s going on.’

She shifted in her seat to face him. Her hand settled on the denim of his thigh. ‘Thanks for coming with me. I’m sorry you’re not unloading your cattle.

He took her small hand in his. Even in the close confines of the ute cabin, he couldn’t get enough of her. ‘No worries. The cattle will be fine spending another day at Travis’s. The paddocks will dry out soon enough and he’ll be able to drive his truck in to load them. They look none the worse for wear after their adventures.’

‘No wonder the truck would get bogged right now, Travis sure had some rain. There was a mud puddle on the driveway I caught Braye eyeing off. Luckily, I packed an extra set of clothes.’

‘Once they’ve found the tree house, I’m sure Braye will forget all about playing in the mud.’

‘Let’s hope so and let’s hope he doesn’t do what Seth once did and jump out of a tree house instead of using the ladder.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Ouch all right. He was lucky to escape with a sprained ankle.’

Ewan squeezed her hand. ‘What did Seth say when you told him about finding the cabin in your mother’s picture?’

‘He was excited and wanted to know how I found it.’ Colour painted her cheeks. ‘Needless to say, I didn’t tell him the whole story of what happened while we were out in the storm.’

‘Will you tell him?’

Ewan held himself still while he waited for her answer. Even though they were taking each day as it came, it suddenly seemed important she was prepared to tell the brother she loved about him.

‘I will when he drives up at the end of the week.’

‘Has he got a lift?’

‘I wish. He bought a ute.’

Ewan glanced at her. ‘Ute? When?’

‘Yesterday. You know what he’s like. He would have seen it and decided on the spot to buy it. I wished he’d talked to you. I’ve no idea if it’s a pile of junk or not.’

Ewan didn’t try to hide his frown. Young males were a high-risk group for car accidents, let alone an American teenager who’d learned to drive on the opposite side of the road. ‘Please tell me it has airbags and anti-lock ABS brakes?’

‘They’ll be my first questions when I talk to him after we’ve visited Old Harry.’

Ewan glanced out the side window at the kurrajong trees lining Harry’s boundary fence. Harry’s emu-shaped mailbox, made out of welded together horse-shoes, would soon appear.

‘Hopefully, you’ll have some answers for Seth then as well.’ Ewan let go of her hand to change down a gear. ‘Harry might be able to explain why your mother had a picture of the cabin. Maybe your father drew it for her?’

‘Maybe.’

Ewan turned at the emu mailbox and sent the ute over Old Harry’s front cattle-grid. ‘You do know if you’d shown me the picture, I could have told you where the cabin was?’

Kree laughed. ‘Yes, I do, smarty-pants. And I would have, eventually. After discovering my father painted the murals, the photocopy of my mother’s picture sat neglected in my bag.’

A border collie and brown kelpie raced out as Ewan parked the ute in the shade of a cedar tree. Old Harry shuffled out the front door, his shrill whistle rescuing Kree from the excited two dogs sniffing her boots, licking her hands and wriggling in close for a pat. Harry disappeared with the dogs around the side of the house to where their kennels were.

‘Now, that’s what I call a welcome,’ she said as she fell into step beside Ewan.

‘I suspect you could be their first female visitor.’

Her brows rose. ‘No way.’

‘Harry has no family and the rumour in town is that it’s been twenty years since a woman set foot inside Yuulong homestead.’

Kree halted. ‘I hope I didn’t force him into having me over. I only wondered if I could ask him some questions and he suggested I come for morning tea and bring you.’

Ewan pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Maybe he’s mellowing in his old age. Just think, he’ll be inviting Mrs Jessop around next.’

Old Harry reappeared and when Ewan caught the glimmer of emotion in the old man’s faded grey eyes as he stared at Kree, he knew his own walls weren’t the only ones Kree had scaled.

‘Thanks so much for having us,’ she said, before she threw Ewan a quick glance. ‘We brought some delicious cookies.’

Harry nodded and motioned for Kree to head inside. ‘In you go. I’ll put the kettle on.’

When Ewan went to follow, Harry took hold of his arm and stopped him. ‘I see you took my advice.’

‘Don’t get too excited, we’re taking it slow. Kree’s supposed to fly home in ten days.’

‘Well, you’d better get a move on then.’

‘Harry …’

But he’d disappeared inside.

Ewan followed Harry into the kitchen, which hadn’t changed in thirty years. Apart from Ewan insisting Harry purchase a new stovetop, the wood grained cupboards and the lino floor were the same as when he visited with his father as a child. But, unlike in past visits, a yellow tablecloth covered the table and a fine bone china teacup sat at a place set for Kree.

‘This is lovely, Harry. Thank you.’ She took the cookie plate out of the plastic container and placed it on the table. Harry opened the fridge and withdrew a china plate covered in lamingtons.

‘My favourite,’ Ewan said as he took his usual seat at the table.

‘
Kree’s
favourite,’ Harry replied as he sat the pretty plate in front of where Kree would sit. He then pulled out the chair for her.

‘Feeling like a princess?’ Ewan asked as Kree slid into her chair.

Kree returned his secret smile.

Harry picked up the china teacup and saucer and it rattled so much Ewan came to his feet to help make the tea. He ignored Harry’s glower. He’d long ago learned that just because Harry didn’t want help, it didn’t mean he didn’t need it.

With the tea made, Ewan joined Kree at the table. Harry sat with a grunt in his chair. He pushed the plate of cookies towards Ewan and then faced Kree, his gnarled hands resting on the table.

‘So, missy. You sure took your time getting here. I expected you weeks ago.’

Surprise, quickly followed by understanding, flittered across Kree’s features. ‘You’ve known who my father was this whole time, haven’t you?’

Harry shrugged. ‘People think I don’t get out much, but I don’t forget a face. And you are your father’s daughter.’

‘Were you ever going to tell me?

‘Nope.’

Kree blinked. ‘Why?’

‘I knew you’d figure it out. And you did, just not in the way I thought you would.’

Ewan nudged Kree’s foot under the table. Harry might talk in riddles, but the answers Kree needed were there. She had to dig a little deeper in Harry’s shrewd brain to find them.

Kree leaned forward in her chair. ‘So, how did you know my father?’

Harry’s left hand twitched where it rested on the tablecloth. He didn’t speak. The electric hum of the fridge provided the only sound in the small room. Then Harry rubbed his whiskered chin.

‘Through … your mother.’

‘My mother? You knew my mother?’

Kree glanced across at Ewan. The shock that lifted her brows was mirrored in his eyes. As she looked back at Old
Harry and she saw memories soften his craggy features, Kree knew he hadn’t just known her mother, he’d loved her.

‘I sure did know your mother,’ Old Harry said, voice gravelly. ‘We grew up together, even though I was older. Our mothers were friends and when Mary lost her mother, my mother tried to do what she could for her. Your grandfather wasn’t a bad man, Kree, just a difficult and proud one. When your grandmother died, he wasn’t ever the same. She’d been the softness to his hardness. I guess he didn’t know how to raise a child, so he treated Mary like an adult.’

Kree took a sip of tea, not taking her attention off Harry.

‘As soon as your mother was old enough, he shipped her off to a posh Sydney boarding school. She used to come home for holidays, until she made friends with a day student and her house became Mary’s second home.’

Harry paused to stare at the pattern his blunt forefinger drew on the tablecloth.

‘Mary turned seventeen and when she came home for Christmas, I’d never seen anyone more beautiful. For me, our friendship had become something more.’ He sighed. ‘But I wasn’t brave enough to tell her. So, I promised myself the next summer I would. But … harvest was late and by the time I saw her she’d met an American artist while out riding.’

‘Oh, Harry.’ Kree briefly covered his wrinkled hand with hers. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It hit hard, losing her, but I knew in my heart I wouldn’t have truly made her happy. It was as though your mother and father filled a missing piece of each other.’

Kree withdrew her hand. She could understand such a feeling. She risked a quick glance at Ewan. But all she saw was his back as he refilled the kettle with water from the sink tap.

‘I’m guessing there’s more to the story?’ she asked, again looking at Old Harry.

‘Yes. Mary’s father wanted her to marry a farmer, not some scruffy artist without prospects. He forbid her from seeing him and even took out a restraining order to separate them. But they kept seeing each other. The day she turned eighteen, she told her father she was getting married and going to art school, with or without his blessing. He threatened to disown her if she left.’ Harry took a gulp of his cooling tea. ‘Is it any wonder that impulsive brother of yours’ stubbornness kept him alive for two days? He’s just like his grandfather. But in Phillip’s case, such qualities didn’t save him. They ruined him. He spent the rest of his lonely life standing by a decision he made in anger.’

‘My poor mother. Did she ever try to change his mind?’

‘When you were born and then when Seth arrived. She hoped having a grandson would soften your grandfather’s stubborn heart. It didn’t.’

‘No wonder you knew who I was. Who Seth was. You already knew our names?’

Harry pushed himself to his feet. ‘I might have lost Mary to your father but our friendship never ended.’ He hobbled to a drawer and pulled out a wooden box.

He set the box in front of her and sat in his seat. ‘I’ve kept this for you and Seth. I knew someday you’d come.’

Fingers unsteady, she lifted the lid. Inside was a sprig of yellow dried flowers and bundles of letters and photographs. She carefully picked up the flower.

‘I found one like this in my mother’s belongings.’

Harry’s smile took decades off his time-worn face. ‘As
kids, we used to play in the yellow wattle trees. Your mother pressed this and gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday.’

Kree carefully placed the dried wattle on the table and took out a faded photograph of herself as a baby, being held by her mother. She traced the image of her mother’s peaceful and smiling face.

‘She wanted to tell you about her past,’ Harry said. ‘She hoped her father would accept what she’d done and that then she’d be able to tell you a story with a happy ending. She held off and held off … until it was too late.’

Kree searched Harry’s now tired eyes. ‘She passed away when Seth was a baby.’

‘I know. Your father wrote to me. Then every Christmas, he’d send a card and photos, until they stopped when Seth was twelve. I figured something had happened to him. So I waited. I knew life would come a full circle. And sure enough, a young whipper-snapper called Seth Garrett came to farm-sit Berridale.’

Kree spoke, even though she knew her voice wouldn’t be anything but an emotional croak. ‘And here I am, too.’

Harry’s smile again lit up his weather-beaten features, his rheumy eyes watery.

‘And here you are.’

She reached into her back jeans pocket and slid out the photocopy of the cabin drawing. ‘Do you know anything about the significance of this? I found the drawing with the wattle.’

Kree opened the folded paper and smoothed it flat on the table.