No Ocean Deep

by Cate Swannell

  “Except for my grey hairs,” Maggie said.

  Jo looked over at the familiar long ponytail, which was indeed streaked more grey than ebony. She smiled.

  “It suits you.”

  Maggie snorted. “Looking old suits me? Thanks,” she said dryly.

  “You don’t look old,” Jo protested as she started to wash the dirt off the potatoes. “You look…” The hairs on the back of Jo’s neck stood up suddenly and she was moving towards the back door, even before Maggie could open her mouth to ask what was wrong.

  “What the…?” Maggie dried her hands off on a tea-towel before following her running daughter out the door.

  Jo emerged into the sunlight at a sprint. One part of her brain told her that she’d heard Cadie yell, but her legs told her that she’d started moving before that. What’s up with that? she wondered, even as she vaulted the garden fence and headed for the two figures near the cottages. Uh-oh.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” the man on the ground was yelling as Cadie stood over him. The blonde was balling and unballing her fists in barely controlled fury as Jo came to a skidding halt next to her.

  “What happened?” she asked breathlessly, taking in the angry man and the whimpering dog.

  “This asshole – please God, don’t make it be her father – kicked the dog just to get him out of the way,” Cadie shouted, adrenaline still coursing through her body and making her shake with anger. “How would you like it, you piece of...” She felt a strong arm slide around her waist and pull her back a little.

  “Easy, Tonto,” a deep, rich voice murmured in her ear. “He’s not gonna do any more damage today.”

  Cadie let out a long ragged breath, realizing Jo was right and she was in danger of acting as big an ass as the man had. “Okay,” she breathed. She placed her hand on top of the one Jo had wrapped around her. “You can let me go now.”

  She could almost feel Jo smiling. The strong hand under hers patted her belly gently and then Cadie felt it withdraw. The blonde decided to ignore the man completely and instead she walked over to the dog, which had taken the opportunity to crawl painfully back into the shade of the tree. Cadie approached slowly, murmuring quiet words of reassurance. This time the dog showed no signs of aggression, just whimpering as the woman came within reaching distance.

  “It’s okay sweetie, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she said quietly, extending a hand, palm up, for the dog to sniff. He did, eventually giving her fingers a tentative lick of acceptance. “Okay, that’s the way,” she crooned. Gently she probed the dog’s shoulder, carefully stretching out the leg and moving it through the full range of motion. “Nothing broken, boy,” she reassured him, looking into big brown eyes that were now all trust and doggy faith. “Friends, huh?” She scratched his ears and gave him one last pat before she pushed herself up and turned away.

  Jo watched her lover’s gentle ministrations with a soft smile. She is such a tender heart, she thought affectionately. Her smile faded as she turned her gaze back on the man. He scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust off his jeans. Jo felt her mother come up behind her.

  “Who are you?” she asked the man.

  He ignored the question, looking instead from daughter to mother and back again. “No need for me to ask you that,” he muttered.

  “Jo this is Jack Collingwood, our foreman,” Maggie said, her hackles once again on edge thanks to the rat-faced man she’d long ago decided she didn’t like. “Jack this is my daughter, Jossandra.”

  “I’d say nice to meet you, but I’m not so sure,” Jo said bluntly. “Do you usually go around kicking animals, Mr. Collingwood?”

  The man’s face reddened again, flushed with anger and humiliation. “The bastard was having a go at the young lady, there,” he objected. “Someone had to do something.”

  Cadie stepped back into the conversation. “He was just protecting his territory from a stranger. That’s only natural. All you had to do was call him off.”

  “That beast don’t listen to me, girl. A swift kick’s all he understands.”

  Jo leaned forward to make a point. “Then you don’t have him too well trained, do you?” she said. “Perhaps you need to rethink your methods.”

  Collingwood stepped forward one pace, getting up in Jo’s face.

  “Who do you think you are?” he growled.

  “That’s enough!” Maggie intervened, letting the rarely-used authority she held over Jack show in her tone. “Jack, where’s Hughie?”

  Collingwood flicked a glance in Maggie’s direction, taking in her glowering look and hands on hips posture. Damn her, she’ll be telling the boss all about this, he realized. He backed off a step from the tall young woman in front of him. You haven’t heard the last from me, bitch. “He’s feeding the orphaned lambs,” he growled out loud.

  “Perhaps you’d better go help him,” Maggie suggested pointedly. “Dinner will be in a couple of hours.”

  Without another word Collingwood nodded and stepped away, holding Jo’s steely gaze for long seconds before he turned his back on them and headed towards the sheep pen.

  Jo let her breath out slowly. She looked at her mother.

  “Charming.”

  Maggie snorted. “I’ve never liked that man,” she agreed. “But your father says he’s a good worker and he can rely on him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s hard to find men willing to work these days.”

  Jo nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,” Cadie said quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

  Jo’s mother smiled and stepped forward, hooking her arm through Cadie’s as they started to walk back toward the homestead.

  “Don’t you worry about it, dearie,” she said breezily. “I like a woman who stands up for herself and stray animals. To be honest, I’ve been wanting to knock that idiot on his backside from the moment I met him.”

  They all laughed and Jo fell in behind her mother and her partner, raising an eyebrow at the rapport the two women had already developed. I’m in trouble here, she thought wryly. The best kind of trouble.

  Chapter Six

  Hughie sat cross-legged on the floor of the lambing shed where the small group of orphaned lambs was being housed until they were weaned and strong enough to return to the paddock. The rangy young man had his long legs tucked under him as he cradled one tiny creature in the crook of his elbow. In his other hand he held a baby’s bottle filled to the brim with warm formula. The lamb struggled a little until Hughie could get the teat into its mouth. The flood of nourishment quieted the lamb as it hungrily sucked the liquid down.

  The peace didn’t last long, however, as the wooden door of the shed slammed open. Jack Collingwood stalked in, muttering under his breath. Hughie had seen the man’s temper often enough to know to keep silent and try to stay invisible.

  “Those fuckin’ bitches. Who do they think they are?” Collingwood spat. Hughie shifted backwards, resting his back against the wall to clear space for the angry foreman’s temper tantrum. “Been here five fuckin’ minutes and already telling a bloke what to do.”

  Hughie watched Collingwood warily, keeping his opinions to himself. He hadn’t seen what had gotten the older man so riled, but he knew enough to realize it must have been Miss Josie and her friend who had caused the commotion. He wouldn’t call the Missus that word, that's for sure, he thought to himself.

  A glance down at the lamb told him the animal had settled back into suckling and Hughie turned his attention back to Collingwood. It had been just yesterday that the foreman had clipped him across the face, leaving a tender lump under Hughie's left eye, and he wasn’t about to let the bad-tempered bastard out of his sight. Not when he's in this kind of mood. Hughie had lived in a white man’s world long enough to know that the Madisons were good people. It was worth putting up with the Collingwoods of the world to stay with them. Besides, he owed them.

  Collingwood stumped over to the Styrofoam cooler f
illed with iced water that Hughie had brought back in from the paddock. Roughly he yanked off the lid, carelessly splashing the precious fluid into a cup and over the upturned barrel on which the cooler rested.

  “Not gonna let them get away with that bullshit,” he muttered after slaking his thirst, rotating the cup in his fingers as he considered his next move.

  The lamb drained the last of the formula from the bottle and Hughie shifted, pushing himself up to his feet. Collingwood swung around on him, as if noticing him for the first time.

  “What are you up to, blackie?" he snarled.

  Hughie ignored the racial epithet. He’d heard it so many times in his short, impoverished life it was hardly worth thinking about. He tried not to look like Jack’s question was the stupidest inquiry in the world, given he was holding a lamb in one arm and a feeding bottle in the other.

  “Just feeding the orphans, boss,” he murmured as he bent over the pen's rail and gently placed the sleepy lamb back on the ground. It tottered over to one of its mates and flopped down into a drowsy pile.

  “You'd better keep your mouth shut, boy, or I'll kick your arse from here to breakfast,” Collingwood threatened.

  “I don't know nothin', boss,” Hughie replied.

  “That's right, you don't. And just you make sure you keep it that way.” Collingwood threw his empty cup at the younger man. Hughie caught it effortlessly, ignoring the flying drops of cold water that splashed over him. Gentle brown eyes watched the foreman leave again.

  “That white fella's got a hard fall comin',” Hughie muttered to the lambs. “Bad time comin' for him, I reckon.”

  The pile of dozing lambs didn't disagree.

  David Madison swung the ATV into the shed and killed the engine. It was late afternoon and he knew he was just a few minutes away from being face to face with his daughter again. His stomach was in knots – butterflies didn’t even come close to describing the sensation.

  I have no idea what's going to happen when I see her, he acknowledged to himself. I just don't want a scene, that's all. Not in front of strangers. Not in front of the men. Jesus, not in front of anyone.

  He climbed off the four-wheeler and lifted his knapsack over his shoulder. He was sweaty and covered in dust, not to mention the scraped knuckles that were par for the course when he was working around the machines. He hung the ATV's keys on a nail near the door of the shed and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. As always, the sight of the homestead touched something deep in him. The impending sunset was casting a golden glow over the white house, and lent the farm buildings and red earth an oil painting quality that never ceased to intrigue him. For a few seconds David stood and took it all in. The deep crow's feet at the corners of his grey eyes crinkled as he smiled slightly.

  This is home, he told himself. Always has been. Always will be. He scuffed his boots against a wooden fence paling, knocking the excess dust off his trousers. Even if I can't be here, this'll always be home. His father, his grandfather and his great-grandfather had worked this land. It's never made us rich, he thought. But it's never broken us either.

  Until now, maybe.

  He sighed deeply, consigning the never-ending problem of how to squeeze money from his land into the darker recesses of his mind. More immediate things to worry about right now, he realized. Wearily he trudged towards the homestead, steeling himself for… for God only knows what.

  Jo could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter inside her gut as the afternoon began to slip into evening. The time since Cadie’s confrontation with Jack Collingwood had passed very pleasantly. They had been helping her mother, laughing and chatting as they had prepared the last meal of the day.

  Mum’s been just great, Jo thought as she ran a tea-towel over the pan she had just washed. I didn’t give her enough credit. She lowered the pan rack that was suspended from the ceiling and hung the pot back on its hook. This trip was definitely a good idea, she thought for the first time since she and Cadie had first called her mother. God, was it only 10 days ago? Jo shook her head in wonder. Why did I wait so long? She looked across the kitchen to where her mother and Cadie were laughing over some reminiscence of Jo’s childhood. The blonde looked happy and comfortable. That’s why, Jo acknowledged, affection for her partner warming her nervous stomach as she hoisted the rack back up to the ceiling. I needed that support behind me.

  Cadie laughed at something Maggie told her and caught Jo’s eye, bringing her back to the moment.

  “You rode an emu?” Cadie asked, her eyes wide and incredulous. Jo felt herself flushing.

  “Well… I mean… um, yes,” she admitted, grinning sheepishly. “The really hard part was catching him in the first place.”

  “How did you manage that, Josie?” Maggie wondered. “You never did explain it to me.”

  Jo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, mother?”

  “Thoroughly,” Maggie confirmed, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter as she waited for her squirming daughter’s reply. She smiled, knowing that despite the blush, Jo was becoming more and more comfortable with being home. And that’s a very good thing.

  “I don’t remember how we caught it,” Jo dissembled. “Phil was with me,” she explained to Cadie.

  “You had Phil wave his arms in front of it, and you lassoed it with a bit of old rope,” came a deep voice from the hallway.

  Jo’s heart stopped, then tripped over itself to catch up, sucking the breath out of her in a rush. She turned her head and was met by a cool grey gaze that faltered and flicked away after a couple of seconds.

  Maggie held her breath. Beside her Cadie did the same.

  Jo was experiencing a weird sense of disorientation. The man standing in the doorway was her father, she knew. Those eyes couldn’t belong to anyone else. But he was a far cry from the tall, strong man who had dominated her childhood memories for so long.

  He’s gotten so old, she thought sadly, taking in the stooped set of the shoulders, the almost-white at the temples and the deep sun bronzed wrinkles that lined his face. Did I do that?

  My God, she’s the image of her mother at the same age, David realized. Beautiful. A pang of something like regret made him wince. All those years I could’ve known her, gone.

  “H... hello, Dad,” Jo husked.

  “Hello, Josie,” he replied, meeting her eyes briefly before they swung away again, taking in Cadie’s presence. Hesitantly, Jo stepped towards him, but stopped when he quickly moved away.

  “I’m, uh, just going to get washed up for supper,” he muttered. With a brief nod of acknowledgement he turned away and disappeared back down the corridor.

  Jo turned anxious eyes on her mother. Maggie raised her hands in a calming gesture.

  “It’s okay, love,” she said. “You’ve got to give him a bit of time.”

  Jo nodded then hung her head, disconcerted to find tears filling her eyes. She buried her hands in her pockets, at a loss to know how to feel or what to do.

  Cadie let out the breath she had been holding and walked over to her partner. Carefully she slid her arms around the taller woman’s waist and ducked her head to try and meet Jo’s eyes. She found them squeezed shut and the slightest hint of a tear glistening on the long, black lashes. Awwwwww.

  “C’mon baby,” she murmured, coaxing Jo into relaxing a little in her arms. Gradually Jo did, until her cheek rested against Cadie’s temple. “That wasn’t so bad Jo-Jo,” the blonde soothed. “You just took each other by surprise that’s all. Your mom’s right. It’s gonna be okay.”

  Jo sniffled slightly. “You think?”

  “Mhmmmm. Now, come on. He’ll be back soon.” Cadie was vaguely aware of Maggie walking out of the kitchen in the general direction of the bathroom. “And I think you freaked him out as much as he did you.”

  Jo chuckled tearily. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh?”

  Maggie closed the bathroom door, and leaned back against it. The room was filled with steam from Da
vid’s shower and she could just see his wiry form behind the glass door of the cubicle. Her husband was leaning forward, hands on the wall, letting the hot water pound on the back of his neck.

  “You all right, love?” she asked.

  David snorted, but stood up, rubbing his face with one hand.

  “Yeah, darl, I’m fine,” he muttered. “Glad that was you coming in. Anybody else and it would’ve killed me.”

  Maggie chuckled softly and pushed herself upright. She walked over to the towel rail and lifted the large fluffy towel off, unfolding it. David opened the door to the shower cubicle and stepped towards her, letting his wife wrap the soft material around his waist and tucking it in. Maggie leaned a little further forward and kissed him lightly.

  “You should be used to me walking in on you, by now,” she said quietly, patting him on the chest, her fingers grazing the long, thin scar that ran the length of his breastbone.

  “Uh-huh.” David watched his wife as she walked slowly around the bathroom gathering her thoughts. He knew her well enough to know that if he kept quiet and let her think, she’d soon enough be telling him what was what.

  “You know your daughter is terrified, don’t you?” she eventually said. David stopped drying his hair and stared at Maggie. “And don’t stand there and tell me you’re not a little scared as well, David Madison.” She frowned at him, trying to find the words for what she was feeling.

  “I can’t just pretend everything is okay, Maggie,” he replied gruffly.

  “It could be if we let it be,” she retorted. “What’s past is past.”

  David pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. “And if you haven’t noticed, wife, there’s another person out there. Another woman. Our daughter is … she’s …” Maggie stepped forward, silencing his frustration with one touch of her hand.

  “Is that really what’s bothering you, David?” she asked, gazing into grey eyes that had never changed in all the years she’d known him.

  “It doesn’t help,” he replied.