Central to Nowhere

by D. J. Blackmore

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ivy took a biscuit of hay and gave it to Rosy. The Jersey’s hide still steamed after coming in from the rain. Slow drizzles made their way through the golden hairs from the cow’s back to drop at her hooves. Ivy wiped her down with a damp rag. She managed to get the kicking clamp into place, took the bucket and set it down between her knees. She hoped there would be enough milk to go round, since the calf had been curled with its mother on the higher ground all night.

  Adam had told her she didn’t need to do the milking, but making the feta had taken over four litres. And besides that, she wanted to do it. Ivy loved the satisfying sense of accomplishment, and the warmth of the cow was comforting. She smirked at the idea but inside she ached to be close to another living breathing soul again, even just a cow. And now there were other mouths to feed. She pictured Adam’s son—a nervous, wiry kid, with dark rings under his eyes and a smile that was far too rare. A little boy whose mother couldn’t seem to sit still, and never seemed to think to feed her son, never mind herself. Ivy’s heart reached out to him.

  Milk pinged against the side of the bucket, but now Ivy could only see Adam. How he had gazed into her eyes. How his look had touched her. She must have read more into his glance than she should have. He was a married man. He had a child and a family life.

  She began to strip the other two teats, glad the calf had only drunk from one side. But it wouldn’t go hungry, she knew. The young one had begun to eat its fill of grass. Still, she would set aside some for the calf as she had seen Adam do. Before she knew it, Ivy had a foaming bucket of warm milk. She set the milk on the bench and eased the clamp from the hollow above Rosy’s hips, before releasing the cow from the stall. The animal took a couple of steps backward, licked a long tongue over the lucerne that clung to her glossy black nose, and clip-clopped away.

  A movement caught Ivy’s eye. The recesses of the shed were dim. There were barrels of meal and vintage bric-a-brac hanging from the dark rafters.

  She waited, quieting the sounds of her breathing, slowing the trip of her heart. Instinctively she grabbed the shovel they used to clean up the manure, and tiptoed toward the slithering. Even though curiosity egged her forward, caution slowed her steps as she knew a snake may be in the shed.

  She eased aside the plastic barrels, only to find Michael. The little boy looked up wide-eyed as he stared at Ivy with the lifted spade. She let out a sigh, realising she’d been holding her breath.

  ‘What are you doing here, buddy? I thought you might have been some big old snake curled up ready to eat me for breakfast.’ She cast aside the shovel.

  Ivy didn’t get the smile she’d hoped for. Michael said nothing, just moved to put his hands behind his back. Ivy frowned and leaned forward to see what he was hiding.

  ‘What have you got, mister? If you’ve raided the strawberry patch, I don’t mind. We’ll raid it together, if you like. I haven’t eaten yet, either.’

  ‘Can ya cook pikelets?’ He stood up so fast he dropped what was in his hand. He scrambled to grab it and keep it out of sight.

  Ivy held out her hand. ‘I don’t know what made you think of pikelets, but I can’t let you help me in the kitchen unless you show me what you’re hiding behind your back.’

  ‘Granny made me pikelets once. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘We can try, too, if you like.’

  Michael nodded. ‘Granny cooked them in the frypan.’

  ‘You want to help me?’ Ivy asked.

  Michael nodded.

  ‘Well, first you’ve got to show me what you’re hiding behind your back. Now, hand it over.’

  Michael held up a stemmed bubble of blue glass. It was like a swollen raindrop with a hollow stem, and although Ivy wasn’t exactly sure what it was used for, she had a fair idea. Her stomach jolted as Michael put it between his lips and sucked air through the pipe. Ivy snatched it from his mouth as though it had fangs.

  ‘Where did you get this thing?’

  Michael said nothing, just moved his weight from foot to foot. He glanced away.

  ‘It’s not yours, is it?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. His eyes were round and shiny, clear as the bubble of glass.

  ‘I’m not angry at you, but you need to tell me where it came from.’

  ‘It’s my mum’s.’ Michael’s gaze slid self-consciously to his feet. Ivy reached a hand out to lift his chin. Michael wore freckles like his daddy.

  ‘What were you going to do with it?’

  ‘I’m gonna smash it with a hammer.’ He brought down a fist and Ivy frowned.

  ‘Why do you want to do that?’

  ‘Because she says she needs it but it makes her sick. When it runs out she gets cranky at me.’

  He rubbed his fists in his eyes, and Ivy’s heart wept for the boy at her feet who was trying to fix a problem the only way he knew how.

  ‘You know what, Michael? I think it should be smashed with a hammer too, but it’s not mine, and it’s not yours, and it’s wrong for us to do that.’

  Michael nodded sadly. His shoulders fell. Ivy smoothed the gritty strands of his hair. It needed to be shampooed. Ivy sat down on her haunches so she could meet his eye, and then spoke to him like a friend.

  ‘I think you need to put it back before you get yourself into trouble, and before your mum gets mad. I don’t want you getting in trouble for doing the wrong thing, even if it was for the right reasons. Do you understand?’

  Michael nodded, but a single tear welled and slid down his cheek.

  ‘What’s Mum doing now?’

  ‘She’s still asleep.’

  Ivy nodded and put the pipe in the safety of his shorts. Then, taking up the bucket of milk, Ivy climbed the stairs with Adam’s son. They took their boots off at the verandah and walked into the silent house.

  ‘Let me set the milk down,’ Ivy said, and took it as quietly as she could into the kitchen. Then, taking him by the hand, they climbed the stairs. She eased the door open to see where Michael’s mother was sleeping.

  She was sprawled out on the bed, with a black boxy tee revealing too-skinny legs. In the room adjacent was Michael’s bed.

  Ivy stepped away from the view of Adam’s wife. She gave Michael’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and he crept into the room. He got down on all fours and crawled around the side of the bed so as not to wake his mother. Ivy went down to the kitchen to strain and cool the milk.

  Michael followed a few minutes later. He sat watching Ivy, and after she had put the last bottle in the fridge, she said, ‘So, you want to raid the strawberry patch with me before we make pikelets?’

  A quick smile lit Michael’s face before he got down from the stool. They walked around to the garden out the back. Ivy looked on as Michael found berries amongst the leaves. His fingers still had the babyish look about them. Ivy wondered at what kind of woman his mother was. She seemed hard and cold toward Michael, yet she still held Adam’s heart. Did Ivy even know Adam at all?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adam didn’t have to spur the filly on. Lipstick was heading downhill in a hurry. The two house cows and their calves were bellowing a welcome, but it was the rusty sedan in front of the old Queenslander that made Adam uneasy.

  A pull of emotions and a twist of the heart urged Adam to let Lipstick have her head. He clenched his teeth against the pain.

  Rachael. Why was she here? Why had she come back? Adam rubbed a hand over three-day stubble. RJ whistled and Adam guessed the stockman had seen the car too.

  ‘Looks like the wife missed you.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Adam’s eyes narrowed.

  Was she alone? He told himself not to get his hopes up, but his heart was galloping towards the house even before Lippy danced into the front paddock. The horse had got her own way, and now she was acting sweeter than bush honey alongside the geldings. A
dam pulled her up and she nickered, almost good-naturedly.

  Adam slipped his foot from the stirrup and prepared to dismount. He went to step down on his good foot, but as he straightened, both legs crumpled beneath him, giving new meaning to pain. He fell back, clutching at air before he fell on his seat and into the mud.

  Lipstick hardly bothered to turn her head, but just stood there. The filly was a hessian bag full of the unexpected. One moment she was shooting from the hip, the next she stood wondering at the antics that put him on the ground.

  ‘Sorry, boss,’ RJ knelt down. ‘You should have told me you wanted to get off. Give me your arm. Put it round my shoulder. Lean on me and I’ll get you up the stairs. You’re going to have to go to the hospital. Get an X-Ray. Think you’re going to need a cast.’

  ‘I’ll see how I go.’

  ‘Are you kidding? We’re going to need to get the doctor out to you ASAP. You’ve got a break and it’s broken the skin.’ RJ wasn’t telling Adam anything he didn’t know. A sweat had broken out. He wiped it away and looked towards the house. RJ followed his gaze.

  ‘With any luck she’ll be gone by the time you get back.’

  RJ didn’t understand. He didn’t have a missus, and as far as Adam knew, hadn’t fathered any kids. Adam needed to get inside to see who was at home. He thought of Michael as pain drew back his lips in a grimace. Water sprung to his eyes, but it had little to do with broken bones. A broken heart? Well, that was something else.

  It was too long since he’d seen his boy. Years too long, and he wondered why she had come back, if it was only to fill him with more pain, more bitterness and more regret. Not that he would ever regret Michael. No, never that. It was only the distance that he resented. It was the miles of missing the son he barely knew. If he saw him on the street, Adam wondered if he would even know his little boy’s face.

  Often he’d glance at the face of every little bloke he passed in town. Any one of them might be his son. Adam knew that regardless of the leg that buckled and held him back, he would claw his way up those stairs just to see him again.

  ‘Thinking maybe we should put up a makeshift pallet in the stable for you to lay on,’ RJ continued fussing. ‘Not much point climbing the stairs only to have to be brought back down for the ride into town.’ RJ was taking control and Adam was in too much pain to do anything but comply.

  ‘If Michael’s inside I need to see him.’

  Jack slung Adam’s other arm over his shoulder and the pair helped him walk. ‘Want me to get him, boss?’

  ‘Don’t stop to talk to Ivy along the way.’ His attempt at lightheartedness disappeared as he sucked air through clenched teeth. He lowered himself clumsily on to the straw.

  ‘Do you want me to get her too?’

  Adam’s pulse quickened to a fast trot. He opened his mouth, prepared to speak, then changed his mind. ‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘I don’t want her to see me like this.’

  ‘You don’t look any different’—RJ grinned—‘and you’re no pricklier than normal.’

  ‘Just Michael?’ Jack asked.

  Adam nodded.

  RJ kept pestering Adam about calling the flying doctor, and it was times like this that he wished they weren’t so remote. But he didn’t answer RJ’s questions. He was listening for little steps towards the shed. Tiny steps from small feet. Wait, how old was Michael now? Adam guessed his footfalls weren’t quite so small anymore. He felt like he was going to lose it.

  Adam took a deep breath.

  Still, it wasn’t Michael that turned the corner, but Rachael.

  Hair long and black, eyes like dark glass and just as sharp as he remembered. Something he hadn’t seen soon enough. The woman he had vowed to love and cherish until death, had left him three years ago with a hasty note and no goodbye. She had taken his son and never turned back.

  But here she stood.

  ‘What have you done to yourself?’ she asked.

  I could ask you the same question.

  She looked a fright. She came hurrying into the stables as though she’d only run out days ago, but he’d stopped waiting and wishing she’d come home a long time ago. In the divorce she had taken the only thing in his life that mattered, and here she was fussing over him like she cared.

  ‘What are you doing back? Where’s Michael?’

  ‘You need to get patched up first.’ She gave him the look—the one he had once loved, the one that made her seem soft as a deer. Now he knew better.

  ‘I need to see my son! Go get him for pity’s sake. I can’t walk, Rachael. I want to see my son.’ He heard his voice crack. He cleared his throat.

  ‘You haven’t changed, have you? Out for days at a time without thinking of who you leave at home.’

  ‘I always come back,’ he told her. ‘Going out to work for a few days is a bit different from clearing out for good with everything I loved.’

  Rachael’s eyes were hard and bright. ‘You had your precious station.’

  ‘This?’ Adam scoffed and gestured about him. ‘It’s been an empty shell for I don’t know how long.’

  Adam heaved a sigh and hung his head.

  ‘I need some money. I’m broke.’

  The true reason she had returned.

  ‘You came all the way here to tell me that?’

  ‘It’s not all about you, Adam. Don’t you understand that?’

  Adam’s smile was almost pleasant. ‘No, you’re right. It was meant to be about us. But now I understand that it was only ever about you.’

  Rachael scratched the back of her neck in irritation. She looked like she had an allergy, either that or he needed to set off a flea bomb in the house. She had been scratching at sores on her face. Her skin had once been smooth as Jersey milk. Now she was like a skinny latte gone cold.

  ‘Michael’s not here.’

  Adam’s fears jumped ahead of her words.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s with your mum and dad.’

  ‘Mum’s too old to mind him! Dad’s got Alzheimer’s and will be lucky to know his name!’

  ‘Your dad seemed fine, to me. Besides, I needed a break! I need time to myself too sometimes. I’ve been looking after him alone for three years.’

  ‘That was your choice! Why do you do this to me?’ Adam was at a loss.

  ‘I didn’t know when you were coming back.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Okay. Okay.’ He nodded. ‘That’s fair enough.’

  But all the same, Adam wished he could shake those narrow shoulders until she understood how he felt.

  ‘Please go and bring him to me.’

  ‘Don’t you want me to take a look at your leg? I used to nurse, remember?’

  You didn’t last the course.

  ‘I’ve had RJ call the flying doctor.’

  ‘You think I have no idea?’

  ‘I don’t need you to tell me what I already know. It’s broken. I’m in pain. I need painkillers and probably a cast. More than that, I need to see my son.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Adam’s homecoming wasn’t what Ivy had imagined it would be. Not at all what she’d hoped for. She had pictured him cantering through saltbush at sunset, a cloud of dust in his wake. Riding towards her with a smile in his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. Instead she was in her room, asking herself if she should make plans to leave. She knew the answer already.

  She wanted to go out to meet him, take a long look into those eyes, and ask why he hadn’t told her that he had a wife. But then, she had come here to help work the land. The marital status of some cowboy was no business of hers.

  She heard a light aircraft approach and uncurled her legs from the bed. As the noise grew louder, the airplane came into view. Silver grass flattened as the aircraft landed in the open paddock. Her brow furrowed at the Red Cross on the side of the
plane.

  Her hand skimmed the banister rail as she trotted down the stairs. She found herself at the shed door. Adam’s wife stood with a medic in overalls, and at their feet lay Adam. He turned his head to look at her. Ivy willed herself to approach. Why did he have to keep staring at her like that?

  ‘What happened?’ Ivy felt the strain of her concern but chose to guard her heart. Sometimes wisdom was a lesson hard-learned—she wouldn’t act the fool, not this time.

  ‘Damned horse kicked me. Doc’s going to check me out now.’

  ‘Which one was it?’

  RJ grinned, ‘The pretty little blonde. Good looks and no brains.’

  For a moment, Ivy thought the stockman was talking about her. She clenched her hands, fighting the urge to run away, embarrassed. She flushed before she realised that he was referring to the horse, and then felt stupid. But right now, it was pretty much how she felt in any case.

  Adam watched her expression too closely, pulling at her emotions as though he had reached out to touch her. She tried to concentrate on what the medic was saying. Adam’s wife glanced at her like she was some kind of interloper. She probably wondered what Ivy was doing here. The woman wanted her gone. She had driven away with Michael to see his grandparents, only to come back cold-eyed and uncommunicative.

  Why hadn’t she taken up Rachael’s offer to take her to the airport? What was she waiting for? But some part of her wanted to stay; some part felt like she’d found her place here beside Adam. She caught Adam looking at her from the periphery of her vision. She weakened and met his gaze, and tried to read his expression. Yet what was there to say?

  Instead, Ivy turned from the shed and walked away. Adam’s wife followed on her heels.

  ‘I can take you into town when I pick up Michael tomorrow, if you are packed?’

  Ivy’s boots ground the dust as she turned sharply to face her.