Bluegrass Bend

by Mandy Magro

  Leah nodded. ‘Sure.’

  Ivy motioned to Harmony to lie on the ground with a simple sweep of her arm, and Harmony followed her request, going one step further as she lay on her side, completely relaxed.

  Leah shook her head in awe as she sat down near Harmony. She began to stroke Harmony’s coat as tears fell once more. This time, she didn’t wipe them away. ‘It’s so horrible, being beaten by the person who’s supposed to love you. It’s like you’re caught in this dark room with no windows or doors, like you have no other option but to stay in there with this person who’s hurting you.’ She began to sob, the cries coming from deep within. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘There’s no reason for you to apologise.’ Ivy placed her hand on Leah’s, her heart wanting to reach out and take her pain away. She knew all too well what it felt like to be trapped by a dangerous man. ‘Take your time. There’s no rush, and if you want to stop, that’s okay too.’

  Leah shook her head. ‘No, I really feel like I need to do this.’ She took a deep breath and wiped her puffy red eyes. ‘After years of leaving bruises in places people could never see them, my ex-boyfriend almost killed me.’ Her voice broke and she took another deep breath, exhaling it slowly, her lips and hands trembling. ‘I woke up one night to find him pouring petrol over me and the bed. I don’t know how, but after a struggle I managed to get past him and out of the bedroom, but he ran after me, holding a smouldering cigarette, laughing hysterically. And then everything went blurry and by some miracle I escaped out the front door, unharmed.’ She looked down at her hands folding and unfolding in her lap. ‘I honestly thought I was going to die and I kept thinking, I can’t die yet, I have so much life to live. So, when I found myself at my next-door neighbour’s house, I swore I was finally going to leave him – and I did. And as hard as it’s been this past year to put one foot in front of the other, I have, and my journey has brought me to Healing Hills, to Harmony and to you, Ivy.’ She looked up and held Ivy’s gaze. ‘And I’m so very grateful for that.’

  She flopped forwards and rested her face on Harmony’s shoulder as she twirled the horse’s mane around her fingers. ‘My God, I feel like a huge weight has just been lifted from me, and all within a matter of hours.’

  Ivy felt a flood of gratitude for this moment – she knew all too well that acknowledgement of inner struggles was the very first step to healing. Like a bulb that had been buried beneath the ground, Leah had just sprung forth and blossomed victoriously, her fears and buried emotions exposed and all because she’d trusted Harmony and Ivy. Ivy wanted to jump with joy at the enormous progress Leah had just made but instead she remained calm and composed, although she was beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘I’m so happy Harmony and I have been able to help you open up and feel what it’s like to trust again, Leah. It’ll only be onwards and upwards from here for you. Trust me on that one.’

  Leah grinned at Ivy, a sparkle in her eyes that had not been there before the session. ‘Oh, believe me when I say this: I trust you fully on that one.’

  ***

  Pulling up in the drop-off zone out the front of the train station, Ivy left her ute running as she leapt out to help Leah gather her backpack from the tray, and to give her a huge congratulatory hug. ‘You did brilliantly today, Leah. I just know you’re going to move forwards in leaps and bounds now.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Leah returned Ivy’s tight hug and then pulled back. ‘I can’t wait until I come back in two weeks. I loved spending time with you and Harmony today.’

  Ivy lightly touched Leah’s arm. ‘Thanks, Leah. We’ve loved spending time with you too. And please know you can call me any time you need to, okay?’

  ‘Thank you, that means a lot.’ Leah smiled. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Ivy. What you and your aunts do with the horses at Healing Hills is amazing. I’ll be making sure I tell all my friends and family and everyone at work about you.’

  Leah held out her arms and they hugged once more before Leah padded off to her train bound for Sydney. Ivy watched her walking away, giving one final wave before she disappeared down the steps. She felt an immense sense of fulfilment – to be able to give people a hand up from the hole they’d fallen into was not only gratifying, it was an absolute honour. Leah wasn’t miraculously healed, and had a fair bit of work in front of her before she could totally move past what had happened with her ex-boyfriend, but with the help of Harmony, Ivy had eased Leah’s heartache enormously and taught her she could safely begin to trust again and feel like she belonged.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Tapping his boots in time to the catchy Darius Rucker tune ‘Wagon Wheel’, Ronny almost choked on his last mouthful of steak at what Larry had just said. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his lips and took a swig from his Coke while trying to ignore the sultry, lash-framed stares he was getting from a table of three young women opposite them. Talk about being blatantly obvious. Every time one of them went to the bar they’d stare at him the entire way. He would smile respectfully, and nod his head in greeting, but that’s as far as it was going to go. Women who flirted excessively did nothing for him, never had and never would, no matter how long it had been since he’d been with one. He required a little mystery, needed to dig beneath layers to discover a woman’s truth, and he prized authenticity and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high heels. These women prowled like lionesses and he felt like fresh meat – definitely not a sensation he was keen on.

  He dropped his voice to a whisper so the women couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation, as they had been for the past ten minutes. ‘You’ve got to be kidding, Larry! There’s no way in hell I’m gonna stand up on some stage in front of half the bloody town and be auctioned off, because believe it or not, I don’t like parading around like some big-headed boofhead with all eyes on me.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see about that,’ Larry said with a wide grin, his eyes flashing mischievously. He took a sip from his beer and then pointed the neck of it towards Ronny. ‘Oh, and I forgot to tell ya, ya have to do it in your boxers too. Hope ya own some ’cause it’d suck having to do it in your jocks.’ He chuckled heartily, clearly enjoying the fact he was making the usually hard-as-nails Ronny Sinclair blush.

  Ronny’s jaw dropped as he frantically shook his head, resembling one of those clowns that you fed balls into in a sideshow alley. ‘There’s no bloody way, Smithy.’

  Larry pretended to be intensely serious, although the cheeky glint in his eyes said otherwise. ‘Oh come on, it’s all for a good cause, mate. And also all in good fun. There’s two other local boys doing it, so you won’t be alone.’

  Ronny huffed and rolled his eyes. ‘I know it’s for a good cause, and I want to be involved somehow for Lottie’s sake, but isn’t there something a little more subtle I can do, like man the barbecue?’

  Larry shrugged as he took another swig from his stubby. ‘Nope. That’s my job.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No buts about it, ’cause it’s too late to back out – I’ve already dobbed ya in for the job, and the girls at the CWA are really excited now that they’ve met ya in the flesh. And how can ya say no to them after that awesome lamb stew they dropped off a few days ago?’ Larry rolled his eyes with pleasure.

  Ronny had to agree, his mouth watering even though he was full to the brim after lunch. ‘It was the best damn stew I’ve ever eaten … and those suet dumplings, oh my God, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.’

  ‘So that’s the clinch then. You’ll never get their dumplings again if ya pull out now.’ Larry wriggled his eyebrows. ‘And Shirl reckons you’ll make a fortune for the cause with all the women around this town bidding for the hot new bloke. Ya don’t want to go letting them down now, do ya? Especially after everything they did for Lottie.’

  Ronny pushed his practically licked-clean plate away and threw his hands up in the air. ‘Okay, okay, I surrender. I’ll bloody well do it.’ He shook his head, chuckling. ‘I wonder what I’m going t
o have to do for whoever buys me.’

  Larry dropped his voice and leant across the table, encouraging Ronny to do the same. ‘Who knows – they might want ya as their sex slave?’

  ‘Oh stuff that, I’m not gonna be nobody’s sex slave.’ Ronny frowned as he shook his head defiantly, muttering to himself. ‘No way, Jose. I don’t just jump in the sack with anyone.’

  Ignoring Ronny’s protests, Larry motioned towards the table of cackling women. ‘Oh come on, if it’s someone like one of them three sheilas over there ya might find it a bit of fun … but if it’s someone like Gertrude Browningstone, ya might find yourself in strife. She’s a bit of a cougar.’ He tipped his head towards the other side of the pub indicating a woman who looked like she already had one foot in the grave but was dressed like she was in her twenties. A smouldering cigarette hung from her lips.

  Catching them looking at her, Gertrude graced them with the sassiest smile she could muster then blew a smoke ring into the air.

  Ronny shuddered then swallowed down hard. ‘Oh fuck, Lord help me.’

  Larry looked back at the women who couldn’t take their eyes from Ronny. Nodding at them in greeting, he smiled and raised his beer. The three women responded by raising their wine glasses and giggling like a group of horny schoolgirls. Larry met Ronny’s gaze, clearly amused as he laughed heartily. ‘Yes siree, it’s quite clear that the girls are gonna be fighting over ya.’ He took the last swig from his beer. ‘And by the way, I was only kidding about the boxers, we don’t want women passing out on the night … probably best ya wear clothes.’

  Ronny threw his napkin at Larry. ‘You bloody bastard! And to think I was going to do it in my boxers.’

  Larry gave him a wink. ‘You’re a good sport, Ronny, always have been. I knew you’d come to the party for us, mate.’

  ***

  Pressing the last of the thumbtacks into the corkboard, Ivy smoothed the poster out, praying that someone qualified, decent, able-bodied and dependable would be interested in the job – someone who had a builder’s licence and could basically start yesterday. Wasn’t too much to ask, was it? She’d put an ad in the Bluegrass Bend Advertiser a week ago, the day after Gerald had agreed to the loan, but so far all she’d gotten was an eighty-something-year-old who looked like he might have a heart attack if he lifted a hammer, and a giggly twenty-two-year-old with bloodshot eyes who she’d been sure was spaced out on God knows what. After a week of waiting the twenty-five thousand dollars had gone into her bank account this morning, and with limited time until the big wigs from the city branch started hounding them to catch up on the repayments of the Healing Hills mortgage, she was super keen to get the project started – she needed the cottage to be on the market in less than eight weeks’ time.

  The manager of the post office, Beryl Matheson, looked over the counter, her bright pink lips curled into her usual chirpy smile and her hazel eyes magnified by the thickness of her glasses. ‘I really hope you find someone soon, love. It’s damn tough finding good workers these days, with most of the young ones running off to Sydney to make a decent start at life. And the bloody government makes it too damn easy for the ones who stay here to sit at home on the dole.’ She rolled her eyes, sighing. ‘My poor Rodger is finding it harder and harder to find a decent set of hands to help him out on the farm. I just pray the day doesn’t come when he’ll need me to quit my job here. I’m not cut out for hard labour, and how else would I catch up on all the goss around town?’

  Beryl had always been old-fashioned in her ways, believing it wasn’t any kind of a place for a woman out in the paddocks and fields – which is why she worked in the post office and had always left the farming side of things to her husband. Ivy liked to believe a woman could work the land just as well if not better than a man, but had learnt not to argue the fact with Beryl after a few slightly heated discussions down the pub.

  ‘This sure is the bush telegraph in here.’ Ivy laughed as she approached the counter. ‘I hope we find someone soon, too, Beryl. I really want to get the renovations underway. There’s a bit of work I can do on my own, but there are some things I really need a carpenter for, seeing as none of us have any clue where to start when it comes to the nitty gritty of renovations. We don’t want the place falling down on whoever buys it.’

  Busying herself sorting the mail, Beryl completely missed Ivy’s joke. ‘Yes, love, just like a woman’s job of ironing, cleaning and cooking, and doing more than two things at once I might add, there are jobs that are only done well when done by a man.’ The bell over the shop door jingled and Ivy turned to see Shirley Jones trying to come in while balancing several packages in her hands, one heeled foot resting against the door while the other remained on the footpath. She looked completely frazzled, her legendary curly red hair windswept and more unruly than usual. Ivy ran over to help her.

  Shirley blew a lungful of air through pursed red lips and then smiled. ‘Oh thanks, love, there should be more of you helpful youngsters around here for us oldies.’ She motioned outside with a tip of her head while trying to straighten her blouse. ‘Some kid on a skateboard almost wiped me out as he went scooting past. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. I had a good mind to chase after him and give him a piece of my mind, but I don’t reckon I’d get very far in these heels.’

  ‘The wicked little bugger,’ Ivy said as she headed for the counter and plunked the packages down.

  ‘Too bloody right.’

  Beryl threw her three-bobs’ worth in by mumbling about the state of the world as she began weighing the parcels then placing them in one of the massive postal bags behind her.

  Throwing her keys in her oversized handbag, Shirley unrolled a poster and placed it on the counter. ‘Is it okay if I pop this up on the community board, Beryl? It’s a bit last minute, seeing as it’s on in three days, but better late than never. I’ve been snowed under at work and haven’t been able to find much time to do my voluntary secretarial duties for the CWA. Shame on me.’

  Beryl scrunched her eyes up as she peered at the poster, as though her glasses weren’t thick enough for her to read it. A smile shot across her face. ‘Ooh, a cancer fundraiser, great stuff. And only twenty-five bucks a ticket.’ She gestured at the corkboard on the sidewall. ‘Of course you can, Shirl, you know you shouldn’t need to ask.’ She wriggled her perfectly manicured eyebrows, smirking. ‘Especially one that factors in bidding for three hunky, spunky slaves for a weekend.’

  Shirley grinned wickedly. ‘And especially ones as fetching as the slaves we’ve got.’ She fanned her face. ‘Although Frank and Jed are good-looking sorts, I have to quietly admit the third one’s an absolute hottie. The girls are going to go crazy trying to win him.’

  With all this talk of hunky spunky men, Ivy’s interest was piqued – she couldn’t help herself. Being local boys and having gone to high school with them, she knew Frank and Jed well, and agreed both young men were easy on the eye, but who was the third hottie pattotti? She leant on the counter so she could read the poster.

  ‘Really? So who’s the one all the women will be fighting over? A local guy?’

  Shirley nodded. ‘His name’s Ronny Sinclair, he’s a newcomer to town, a stockman from up north who’s inherited old Lottie Sinclair’s place, Sundown Farm.’

  Ivy gasped. ‘Ooh, I think I know who you’re talking about.’ The image of the hunk of a man who had almost bowled her over at the bank last week came to her – his handsome face had been lingering in her mind but she’d refused to give him much attention, until now. She nudged Shirley. ‘And oh my God, you’re right, he’s absolute eye candy. Although I reckon he might be a bit of a Casanova by the looks of him – he’s too good looking not to be.’

  Shirley shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Ivy. I met him the other day when I called in to see Larry …’ Shirley smiled at the mention of Larry’s name, her cheeks appearing rosier, ‘… and he seems like a really nice bloke, you know – trustworthy and dependable and most certainly very
down to earth – a far cry from a show pony. I reckon, seeing as he’s Lottie’s great nephew and Larry speaks so very highly of him, he’d be one of the good ones – you know, a bit of a keeper.’ Shirley wriggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

  Ivy’s eyes widened. ‘You really got that impression?’

  ‘I sure did, and I’m usually spot on with my first impressions of people.’ Shirley gave Ivy a little nudge back. ‘But I will completely agree with you on the fact he is very, very, handsome.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Beryl said, catching both Shirley’s and Ivy’s attention as her brows furrowed in thought. She sucked in an excited breath and then glanced at Ivy while tapping at the poster. ‘There you go, love, if you haven’t found yourself a handyman by this weekend you should go along and bid for him. Seeing as he’s new to town, I’d be guessing he’ll need a job, and then after he’s fulfilled his slave duties, maybe you can keep him on to finish off the renovations – if he’s any good, that is.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Tah dah, problem solved.’

  ‘Sounds good, Beryl, but the only thing is I really need a qualified carpenter for most of the jobs I need doing – council requirements.’

  Beryl scrunched her face up. ‘Oh bugger.’

  Shirley’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she said slowly. ‘Ronny did ask me if he knew of any local building work going on, so maybe that means he’s qualified in something to do with the building trade. And I’d say unless he’s miraculously found something in the past couple of days, you might be in luck.’ Shirley drummed the counter with her long fingernails, every finger adorned with a chunky gold ring. ‘And believe you me, with the solid build of him, I’m guessing he’d be damn good at anything involving hard labour … especially if he has to have his shirt off.’ She grinned then covered her mouth as though shocked at her brazenness.

  Beryl half chuckled and half snorted as she once again rolled her eyes. ‘God, listen to us would you? We’re like a pair of old tarts.’