Riverstone Ridge

by Mandy Magro

  Nina nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Good to hear. And when I come next time, I’ll make sure to bring Bea’s ashes too, so you can lay her to rest where you feel it best at the time you feel is right.’ His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

  Nina choked back a sob. ‘Okay, thank you.’

  He wandered over to Maxwell, who was now watching him like a hawk. ‘You’re going to stay here, buddy. I’ll be back in a week to say g’day again, okay?’

  With Maxwell at their side, Nina walked William to the door and stepped out on the verandah. Arms folded, she rested against the banister and Maxwell sat right on her bare feet. Both of them watched as William got into his four-wheel drive, gently revved it to life, and then gave a wave as he drove away. She waited until the swirling trail of dust was all she could see before racing back inside and easing the envelope open, Maxwell hot on her heels, and Tom cautiously watching him from half-open eyes. Sinking to her chair, she readied herself for the barrage of emotions Bea’s cursive handwriting would undoubtedly bring. Maxwell plonked himself down near her, gazing up at her from beneath his brows. Smiling down at him, Nina felt a sense of comfort, knowing he was Bea’s dog and he was right here beside her, as if it were Bea herself. Keeping him had been a good decision, hopefully one of many over the coming weeks. Clearing her throat, she rested her heels up on the chair and pressed her back up against the cushion, the letter against her thighs.

  To my darling Nina-Jane,

  There’s so much I have to tell you, important things we never got to sit down and talk about. I’d always put it off, thinking there was always tomorrow. Well, silly me, I don’t have any more tomorrows left. Time caught up with me way too fast but, as they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and boy, oh boy, I had a fun and very fulfilled life. So, please, make sure you don’t grieve for me for too long, but instead celebrate my life as much as you can, and always carry happiness in your heart when you have thoughts of me. I truly feel I’ll be looking down upon you from heaven, so believe me when I say, I’ll know if you’re going against my wishes. Like I always said to you, I have eyes in the back of my head, and that’s not going to change just because I’m no longer here in body. Yes, I’m still a bossy boots.

  Anyway, enough yabbering, I need to get down to the nitty gritty of why I’ve chosen to do things as I have. You’ll still be in shock, and I know you’ll be longing to understand it all. But, let me start by saying how sorry I am for not telling you about the damn rotten cancer, but please understand, I didn’t want to burden you, and I didn’t want you to see me wither away to a mere shell of myself either. I’ve watched the damn disease take many of my friends, and it broke my heart seeing them suffer so much, and I didn’t want this for you. I want you to remember me as the strong country-blooded woman I am. I want you to hold on tight to all the good times we shared so you can keep my memory alive, in you, with only good feelings in your big beautiful heart. We did have many a great time, you and I, my darling girl, didn’t we?

  You’ll know by now that every week, for the next four weeks, my brother William will bring you a letter to read – you may do with the information as you wish along the way. I know how much you feared ever coming back here, and I understand why, but I do hope you find your love for Riverstone Ridge once more, and find comfort in the embrace of the land you used to roam day in, day out. Allow yourself some kind of closure, because as much as you try to deny it, I wholeheartedly believe you need to, Nina, so you can move forward in your life. But, also, on the contrary, if you feel you need to go at any time, please know I understand. If it feels right in your gut to sell our home and go back to the city, or wherever it is you desire, then please, I beg of you, do so. All I wish for you is peace and happiness, along with meeting that special someone who will love and care for you as you deserve to be loved and cared for. By no means are you are obliged to live your days out here – just because it was my forever home does not mean it is yours. That was my path, and certainly does not have to be the same for you.

  When you left here all those years ago, you said something to me that has stuck with me throughout my life. You didn’t think I understood the pain you had to go through, with the decision you made, and no matter how I tried to assure you I did, you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t want to weigh you down now with too much information, but I felt every bit of your heartache, tenfold, and although I wished I could have told you this at the time, and explain why I did, in fact, know exactly what you were going through, I clammed up, and kept all of this to myself, and I never found a suitable moment to tell you my deepest darkest secrets. In hindsight, I know that if I’d allowed my wall to fall and opened up to you about my life and what I had lost, you might never have left feeling the way you did. But I can’t rewind time now, and regrets will do us no favours, but I do think it’s high time you knew the truth, about me, about your past, and perhaps it will open doors to a future you never imagined possible. That, my darling girl, will be in your hands.

  So, until next week, when we will chat some more, I want you to know I love you, with all my heart and soul, forever and ever, and that my life was enriched by having you in it, every single day. You are beautiful, Nina-Jane, inside and out, and never let anyone make you think otherwise.

  Love you, always and forever,

  Bea Xo

  The beautifully cursive words a tear-filled blur, Nina folded the letter and gently placed it on the table as she allowed all that Bea had said to sink deep into her heart. If only she could have one more day, just one more chance to sit down with Bea, so they could talk about everything. But that was never going to happen. And she had to accept it. All the wishing in the world wasn’t going to bring her back.

  Bea was gone forever.

  And forever was a mighty long time.

  CHAPTER

  6

  Visons of his skeletal wife reaching for him from the grave, and his little girl crying from her black, hollow womb, had jolted Logan awake in a pool of sweat at four in the morning, and yet, at the same time, he was shivering to his very core. The confronting image of the bonnet of Jessica’s car buckled like an accordion against the trunk of the mammoth oak tree and the windscreen covered in her and Violet’s blood tortured him to no end. It was cruel, the way he’d lost them both in the blink of an eye – his whole world had collapsed around him, and it had been through no fault of his wife.

  Jessica hadn’t been drunk and hadn’t been staring at her phone. She’d been driving a little too fast for the conditions, ignoring the rain-slicked road in a hurry to get home, to him, to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary, and was met, head on, by an oncoming drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. Swerving, she’d veered straight to her and Violet’s death. The drunk driver had walked away with minor cuts and bruises, and was a little over halfway through his six-year sentence, with the possibility of release next year.

  Now where was the goddamn justice in that?

  Hours later, and the empty, hollow feeling the recurring nightmare had left – a familiar one he’d done so well to ignore when he had his work to throw himself into – was now relentlessly palpable, vibrating through him insistently as though demanding he face up to the fact their death had left him feeling overwhelmingly alone in this world. He needed to let this loss go, and move on.

  Pacing the back verandah in his socks while looking out over his rain-misted land, Logan pondered this. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his bristly jaw. He really needed to shave, but then, with not having to go in to the station, he had nobody to impress, so why even bother? Leaning against the railing, he squeezed his eyes shut. Stuff it all, getting rid of this heaviness in his heart was an uphill battle, and he was so tired of trying to climb to the top of it so he could finally find a way to let it go. Fed up with fighting the grief, maybe he needed to find a way to flow with it – the next six weeks would be the perfect time to try a different tack. Lord knew he needed to.

  Groani
ng, he tried to rub the tension from his shoulders as he eased his head from side to side. It felt as if there were golf balls beneath his skin and bricks in place of yielding muscle. Curled up into an impossibly small ball, Digger watched him from his dog bed through sleepy eyes. The rainy weather lingering, Logan wished he could chill out like his doggy mate, put his feet up and read a book, or stare into space, but doing nothing, especially on his own, just didn’t carry much appeal. All it did was give him way too much time to think. Holidays seriously weren’t all they were cracked up to be. It was only 9.47 am, and he was already going stir-crazy – once the tropical shower eased off, he was going to saddle up his trusty old horse and hit the trail. It had been too long between visits to the top of the mountain range overlooking his property – almost eight months in fact – so it was about time he made the trek up there.

  But what to do until then …

  Up well before the crack of dawn, he’d already had a hearty breakfast of crispy bacon, sautéed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and poached eggs; hung out two loads of washing; vacuumed and mopped even though the floors hadn’t really needed it; showered; read the newspaper, twice; switched the telly on and surfed through every channel before turning it off five minutes later; worn Digger out by throwing the ball; and spent an hour in his home gym pumping weights. And now he had the rest of the day to contend with. How in the hell was he going to do this vacation thing for six long weeks? If it were possible, he’d pay to be back at work, just so he didn’t have to sit around and twiddle his thumbs. There were a few jobs he could do to pass the time, like mowing, fixing a few of the fences, and giving the quad bike a service but he wasn’t in the mood for such monotonous chores. For now, he craved open space, and plenty of it. He needed to feel free. He needed to be able to really breathe. He felt like he hadn’t in four long years.

  Precisely twenty-seven minutes later, and with the dark clouds dispersing, revealing a hint of blue sky, he jumped up from where he’d been flicking through his most recent addition to his cooking magazine collection in his cosy settee with paddock views, and made the move. He was determined to get on with his day and make the most of it. Then it would be one down, and only forty-one days to go before he was back at work. He rolled his eyes with the thought as he collected his Akubra from where it hung on the hook near the flyscreen door and settled it onto his head. After pulling on his Ariat boots, he grabbed his bridle and reins from where he’d slung them over the banister of the verandah, and then hefted his saddle over his shoulder – the saddle blanket was already down at the stables.

  With the familiar chinks and clangs of the metal, Digger leapt up, still half-asleep, and half waddled, half tripped, to his side. Digger leant on Logan’s leg for a few brief moments while he regained his sense of reality, and his balance, then Logan gave his little mate a light scratch behind the ears. Then the pair of them headed down the front steps and across the back lawn to the melodious tinkle of the wind chimes hanging from the corner of the verandah, the sound blending with the sweet singsong of the northern chowchillas and fantailed cuckoos perched in the thriving Bangkok rose bushes. It was a short walk to the paddock his faithful twelve-year-old horse Justice called home – a walk he hoped to make each and every day while he had time off.

  A pleasant southerly breeze, tinged with the scent of the nearby sugar mill, whispered through the tall gums marking the trail. Wandering down the winding dirt track with jaw-dropping views over the softly rolling land dotted with wildflowers and new grass born from the monsoon season, he hummed his favourite Brad Paisley tune, ‘We Danced’, as his boots crunched in rhythmic strides. With each step, each deep breath, and with the unrestrained blazing sun now beating down on his back, he already felt a little bit lighter, a little less overwhelmed, as though the shadows of his past couldn’t quite reach him out here, no matter how hard they tried.

  After passing the machinery shed, and then the stables his father and grandfather had built with their bare hands, he reached the generously sized horse paddock – one that used to be surrounded by acres and acres of Bowen mango trees. It was with a heavy heart his dad had decided to tear them all out, and give up the farming life for good. That had been eight long years ago. Thank goodness he’d sought out a career as a police officer. One day, he might decide to do something with the place again, but for now, this was his private haven, the place he could escape from the craziness of the world and the offenders he had to deal with.

  He unlatched the gate of the round yard and closed it behind him again, dropped the saddle on the yard railing above where Digger had already gotten himself comfortable, and then wandered across the grass and into the paddock, where Justice left his girlfriend, Jessica’s mare Krystal, and trotted over to meet him. The gelding nodded his head and whickered in greeting and as per usual, Krystal – a hoity toity gal who was always completely uninterested in Logan’s visits – continued to pull at clumps of grass, her tail swishing flies away. After losing Jessica, he’d thought about selling Krystal, or even giving her to a loving new home, but he was reluctant to get rid of Justice’s only company, and Krystal didn’t mind her life of luxury.

  Readjusting his sunglasses, Logan ran a hand down Justice’s blaze and over his velvet muzzle, smiling warmly at his mate. ‘Hey there, buddy, it’s good to see you.’ With Logan working so much this past year, Justice spent the majority of his time roaming the paddock with Krystal, pulling up grass with his yellowing teeth and having a fang about when he had the urge, kicking and farting for good measure. What a charmer.

  His ears flickering forwards, Justice dipped his head and pressed his muzzle into Logan’s pocket, sniffing like mad. ‘Oi, you.’ With a chuckle, Logan pushed him back a little and Justice brought his nose up and under Logan’s armpit, nuzzling him.

  ‘All right, okay, back up, would you?’ Logan said, laughing. ‘Yes, I brought you a carrot, just hang on a minute.’ He dug into his pocket and held it out to his mate.

  Justice chuffed and blew before snatching it from him, then proceeded to crunch loudly as little bits of crushed up carrot flew out of his mouth.

  ‘Hey, where’ve your bloody manners gone, Justice?’ Logan chuckled, swiping a hand over the gelding’s shiny chestnut coat. ‘I think I need to crack the whip and get you back into line – you’ve lost your people skills.’

  Justice nickered and tossed his head, as if nodding.

  ‘Well, at least you can own up to your pig-headedness, unlike a lot of humans, I’ll give you that.’ Amused, Logan rolled his eyes as he leant into Justice’s rump and ran his hand down his left leg. Justice knew the drill, and as soon as Logan’s hand reached his fetlock, he casually lifted his foot to be checked. Logan picked out the dirt, manure and god only knew what else as he made his way from foot to foot. Satisfied they all looked good – although he knew that in a few more weeks Justice would be due to be shod again – Logan wandered over to grab the saddle blanket.

  Their routine as natural as breathing, Justice munched away on a bit of chaff as Logan slipped the bridle over his head, and ten minutes later, they were good to go. Before climbing into the saddle, Logan strode over to the patch of wild lavender growing beside a fence post, picked a handful, then carefully shoved it into the top pocket of his button-up shirt. The flowers had been Jessica’s favourite. He always brought some to her and Violet’s final resting place, high up on the hill, where he’d spread their ashes.

  Whistling to Digger to join his side, Logan vaulted up and onto Justice’s back with effortless ease. ‘Right, my two best mates, let’s hit the road, eh?’

  Crossing the paddock, they passed through the gate and Logan leant over to wrestle it shut behind them. His tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, Digger made sure to stay in Justice’s line of vision and circled Justice eagerly yet cautiously, knowing the horse was not keen on dogs lingering anywhere near his heels. Digger had a front tooth missing to prove how hazardous it could be, the scar of getting kicked by an annoyed horse after
ignoring a few warning whinnies when he was a couple of years old. Not that it had discouraged Digger from joining in on a horsey adventure for a second – this was one of the very few times Logan really saw his long-time doggy mate come alive these days.

  Logan shook his head as Justice pulled with enthusiasm, the gelding clearly as eager to be heading out into the scrub as he and Digger were. They walked at a casual pace, then a few kilometres up the drive, he gave Justice the cue to open his stride. Justice didn’t need to be asked again as he leapt onwards, towards the scrubland that separated Willowbrook from Riverstone Ridge, ears pricked forwards as if keen to visit his old trails. Logan let his gelding have his head, and Justice picked the very route they always used. As they rode like the wind, with the wind, on the wind, his mane and tail flew as he galloped fast and smooth, at a breathless, almost reckless, pace. Digger slowly fell away behind them, but Logan wasn’t worried – Digger knew where he was headed and always caught up.

  The thunder of racing hooves hammered in his ears as they rode at breakneck speed with a dusty trail in their wake. Logan’s heart soared. He loved the thrill of the wind whipping past him, and the blur of landscape all around him – just him and his horse, as one, leaving all of life’s troubles behind. With a deep breath he felt his downtrodden spirits lift, and the sadness he carried within the depths of his heart and soul lighten as he let it out. A few more breaths like this and, before he knew it, he was smiling from ear to ear, the empty feeling he’d woken to now all but gone. There was something to be said for galloping across an open paddock, with nothing and nobody to stop you.

  The scrublands fast approached, and as they weaved between the soaring trees, Logan skilfully ducked and swayed beneath branches that loomed across the path, holding firm in the saddle whenever Justice hurdled over a fallen tree trunk. But as the track narrowed, and the scrub closed in on them, he quickly reined Justice in and, once at a comfortable cruising walk, stood up in the stirrups and stretched – old footy injuries had made his knees a little less lenient to Justice’s unforgiving gait. Justice’s flanks heaved beneath him as the horse blew out a rolling snort. Sitting, Logan patted his gelding’s wet neck, thankful for the unadulterated thrill of the wild ride. With Justice at a nice easy pace, he rose in and out of the saddle as they traipsed onwards, his legs flexing to the familiar rhythm of the horse’s springy step. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Digger not far away.