Bluegrass Bend

by Mandy Magro

  Seriously, how hard could it be? Loads of people turned to DIY to save on costs, although admittedly, usually there was a man involved to help with the bigger jobs. She wasn’t giving up on the hope they would find a qualified, affordable tradesman, if they hadn’t already in Ronny Sinclair, to help with revamping the kitchen and bathroom and adding a new laundry to replace the one that was part of the back verandah. She couldn’t give up – or she might as well chuck the whole plan in right now. Hopefully Ronny was going to turn out to be capable, though there was no guarantee he’d take the position if she offered it to him. But then again, other than the wage issue, why wouldn’t he leap at the chance if he was looking for building work?

  She still hadn’t heard from Ronny about when he might be able to start work, so she was on her own for the moment. After lengthy conversations about what they’d do with the limited funds, May and Alice had offered to handle all the healing sessions so Ivy could concentrate on the renovation. Ivy had thought it a great plan, since her aunts were a little past back-breaking labour. She’d made sure to let her clients know about the change and, thankfully, all had been happy to do their sessions with May and Alice for the next couple of months.

  Today she would start hammering down the floorboards that had warped over time and then put her hand to anything else she could do on her own. She had to at least make some sort of start, because time was ticking and she was beginning to wonder whether the charismatic Ronny Sinclair was going to stand up to his half of the bargain and be their slave for a weekend. He’d said he would be calling her yesterday, and he hadn’t – typical bloody man. Maybe Amy Mayberry had successfully wooed him into her dungeon and he was still lying handcuffed to her bed while she performed sexual rituals on him. As crazy as it sounded, Ivy wouldn’t put anything past the woman – Amy always got what she wanted, especially when it came to men.

  Keen to not think about Ronny and Amy getting naked together and wanting to make a start, she went back to the lounge room. She wanted to hang the banner she had rolled up under her arm that read HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS; her little bit of inspiration to get the place in tip-top shape. She turned slowly around, trying to decide on the wall she would hang it on. Placing her toolbox down, she opened the lid and gathered what she needed – a hammer and a nail – feeling somewhat accomplished already just by acting like she knew what she was doing, even though half the tools in the box still perplexed her. Going up on her tippy toes, she tried to position the nail so she could hammer it in. Just as she was about to strike, her phone chimed in her pocket. Huffing, she grabbed it. Not recognising the caller ID, she answered in a businesslike tone of voice.

  ‘Hello, Healing Hills, Ivy Tucker speaking.’

  ‘Hi Ivy, it’s Ronny Sinclair.’

  ‘Oh, hi.’ Distracted from the job at hand by the surprise she felt at Ronny finally calling, Ivy dropped the hammer. It bounced onto her socked toes and the pain sent her into a tirade of expletives as she jumped around on one leg, holding her throbbing foot. Her phone dropped to the floor. She could hear Ronny calling out to her but she needed a second to catch her breath.

  ‘Bloody hell, hang on,’ she yelled as she jumped around a few more times before bending to retrieve the phone. ‘Sorry, I dropped the damn hammer on my foot.’

  ‘Are you all right? You didn’t break anything, did you?’

  ‘Nope, I’m all good now thanks.’ She actually wasn’t, her toe was throbbing like hell, and she felt like a complete idiot, but Ronny didn’t need to know that. She wanted to be a pillar of poise and fortitude in his eyes – the attributes of a proper boss.

  ‘Good, glad that’s all it was, because for a second there I thought you were cursing at me for ringing you.’

  Ronny’s laugh made her tingle all over and she hated how he had that effect on her. She didn’t want to fall underneath his charismatic spell each and every time she had anything to do with him. A wall needed to go up, to protect her heart, but goddamn it she was having trouble finding the bricks to do so. She sat down on the floor to assess her toe, grimacing as she removed her sock. It wasn’t broken but she was going to have a doozy of a bruise.

  ‘Oh, really? Why would I curse at you for ringing me?’ Oh, that’s right. Because you were an arse and didn’t do as you said, like every bloke I’ve ever known, and because you’re also friends with the town tart.

  ‘I thought you might have been annoyed at me for not ringing you yesterday, like I said I would. Things just got away from me and –’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t even remember you saying that, so no problem at all,’ Ivy said, not interested in listening to his excuses. She hated telling white lies, but she wasn’t going to let this gorgeous man know he’d gotten to her, no way, Jose. Poise and – what was the other thing? Fortitude.

  ‘Oh, that’s good. I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. I was meaning to call, but got stuck out in one of my paddocks fixing a leaking water pipe well into the night, so I didn’t get a chance. Sorry.’

  Was Ronny telling her the truth, or was it his water pipe he was having fixed by the one and only Amy Mayberry? Ivy felt like slapping herself. How was it her business if that were the case? She silently willed herself to get the hell over whatever it was she was doing, because it was the height of ridiculousness. This was business, and Ronny was basically a stranger to her, simple as that.

  ‘Like I said, no probs, Ronny, these things happen when you’ve got a property to run. I completely understand.’

  ‘Great, thanks, anyway, the reason for my call, I’m free this weekend so I thought I could come out to your place and fulfil my slave duties.’

  His voice was so dreamily husky – listening to him was like sliding her body into a bathtub filled with warm water on a cold winter’s day. Her slave for the entire weekend – her heart fluttered with the thought but she slapped it back into line. Get a grip, girl. She cleared her throat.

  ‘That sounds perfect, Ronny.’

  ‘Excellent, what time do you want me out there?’

  ‘Oh, say, sevenish? Or is that too early for you?’ Was that a little bit of sarcasm she heard in her voice? For God’s sake, what was wrong with her? She lay back and stared at the ceiling, noting it needed painting too – her to-do list was growing by the minute.

  ‘I’m always up and about way before then, so not at all. Anything you need me to bring, like any particular tools?’

  ‘Oh, Shirley mentioned something about you looking for work as a builder. Do you have any builder’s tools?’

  ‘Sure do, I’m a carpenter by trade so I have plenty here in the shed. Is there some work around the house you need me to do?’

  ‘Something like that …’ Ivy punched the air as she jiggled her legs then flinched when she smacked her sore toe against the doorway. Allelujah! Their miracle may have arrived, just as May expected. Praise the powers that be! She fought to keep her voice calm. ‘We’re in the beginning stages of renovating a cottage, and we’ve been having a really hard time finding a qualified tradesman to do the job, which as you’d know is a council prerequisite, so you’re going to come in very handy over the next few days – and hopefully even longer, if you think you can handle the workload.’

  She almost slapped her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d offered him the job before he’d even proven his worth, but she was desperate and in desperate times a person was known not to think straight. She held her breath, waiting for his response, which was taking way longer than she expected. She could swear she also heard him curse under his breath. Her irritation with him returned, in full force. Who did this bloke think he was? Shirley had said he’d seemed pretty desperate for work. So what was the damn problem?

  ‘Cat got your tongue, Ronny?’ She definitely said that with sarcasm, and she hoped he picked up on it too. Raaa!

  ‘Oh, sorry, yeah, um, hmm, well, thank you for the kind offer, Ivy, but how about we just wait and see how I go over the weekend first? I’m, um, pretty
busy around here at the moment so I’m not sure if I can take anything else on right now.’

  ‘But I thought you were asking around for work? Shirley said you were pretty keen to start something as soon as possible and she’s not one to talk bullshit.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, I was just feeling it out, that’s all. Shirley must have got the wrong impression.’ Ronny chuckled awkwardly. ‘I wasn’t too serious about getting anything straight away. I haven’t really had a chance to settle in here yet.’

  Ivy bit her tongue hard, keeping her usually slow-to-ignite temper in check before she said anything she couldn’t take back. Her stomach shifted uneasily. What wasn’t he telling her? Shirley was a trustworthy woman, so Ivy knew she was telling the truth when she’d said Ronny was keen to start work soon. Was Ivy’s job offer not good enough for this bloke? She thought he would have jumped at the chance. Her mind went into overdrive and she started to worry that Amy had been in his ear and told him some bullshit story about her, like she had done when they were at high school. Deep breaths. Calm thoughts. She couldn’t lose her cool – they needed Ronny Sinclair, as much as she hated to admit it. Hopefully, after a few days of working together, she could charm him into agreeing to take the job. Then a bolt of panic hit her. He was already sounding blasé and she hadn’t even told him about the crappy wages situation yet. Could things seriously get any more challenging? She wanted to bang her head against the wall.

  ‘Ivy, are you there?’

  ‘Oh sorry, um, okay, we can do it that way if you like … but I really do hope you decide to take the job.’ She pushed herself up from the floor and hobbled over to the window to check if Bo was where she’d told him to stay. He was. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

  ‘Yeah, I think it’s for the best if we just see how things pan out.’ Ronny sounded confident – almost too confident.

  Her smile for her obedient pooch vanished. What in the hell did he mean by ‘for the best’ and ‘we’ll just see how things pan out’? She wanted to ask him but the words seemed to jumble in her mouth before she could get them out. And probably for good reason.

  Sucking in a breath, she spoke carefully. ‘Right then, that’s all settled. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Thanks for the call.’

  ‘No worries, Ivy, see you then.’

  ‘Oh, Ronny …’

  ‘Yup?’

  ‘Do you know where we are?’

  ‘I’ve got the address on the business card you gave me the other night so I’ll find you.’

  ‘Okay then, bye.’

  ‘Catch ya, Ivy.’

  And the line went dead, as did Ivy’s hope for her plan to save Healing Hills. They were no closer to finding a qualified tradesman to do the job, and the only one in town she had any hope of affording had better things to do – apparently.

  Exasperated and defeated, she sat on the floor of the empty house as the tears she’d been holding began trickling down her cheeks. A person could only remain strong for so long, so fuck fortitude and poise – a good cry had never hurt anyone, and at this moment, in the privacy of the cottage she had once called home, a good cry was exactly what she needed. Hugging her knees to her chest, Ivy cried for those she had lost, the love that she was sure she’d never find, the music she was afraid she’d never play again, the cottage she had to sell, and the place she had come to call her home that she was on the brink of losing. As she cried, she prayed with all she had that somehow, some way, everything was going to turn out even better than she’d expected. She had to hold onto that hope, because without it, she had nothing.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Ronny pressed the end button and then shoved his mobile phone back into his pocket as he paced the gravel driveway with Jessie and Cindy Clawford on either side of him. He punched a fist into his palm as his jaw clenched. Damn it, and just when he thought his life was finally heading in the right direction. Talk about being put on the spot – so much so he hadn’t been able to think straight. And his mind was still in a whirl from it. Ivy had sounded desperate for him to take the job on, and he’d basically told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested. A big fat lie, and he’d regretted it as soon as he’d said it. He could tell she knew he was lying too – but it was too bloody late to back-pedal. Now what was she going to think of him? He felt like the biggest arsehole on earth and he wouldn’t blame her for thinking the same thing. But what was he meant to do, go and work day in, day out with the one woman he should be doing his very best to steer clear of, a woman who made him feel things he’d never felt before?

  Stopping before he carved a path into the drive with his boots, Ronny knelt down and gave Jessie a ruffle on the head and Cindy a scratch behind her ears. He was trying his best to make sense of the run of coincidences that had brought Ivy back into his life. First, he runs into her at the bank, then she wins him as her slave for a weekend and now she’s offering him his dream job. He was well aware that his future hinged on how he handled the situation. On the one hand, he could just do his two days and never set foot back on Healing Hills – but Bluegrass Bend was such a small town that she would most certainly find out if he took a job somewhere else and then Ivy would most certainly hate him forever because he’d left her and her aunts stranded in their time of need. Or he could take the job on, do a good deed for people in need of his help, just like he had promised himself he’d do when he got out of prison, and get paid for something he loved doing. And when the job was done he could get on with life at Sundown Farm as Lottie had begged him to in her letter. It didn’t sound too hard but he knew putting a plan like that into action would be a different kettle of fish. It didn’t have to be hard, though; if he could promise himself he’d keep the past where it was and not say a word about that night, maybe he and Ivy could be friends. Not close friends, but acquaintances. He hated lying, but was keeping a secret lying? Maybe if he kept a bit of a wall between them, she wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to ask him questions about his past and he wouldn’t have to lie to her. He’d just go to work, do his job, and then go home – keep it all very businesslike.

  He wished Lottie were here so he could talk to her about it, but then again, he had a fair idea of what she would say: Keep away from her and concentrate on your own life, Ronny. Maybe he could have a word with Larry, seeing as his old mate knew everything there was to know about the situation. Yes, that’s what he would do. He needed someone to bounce his thoughts off, and Larry was the only person he could do that with.

  ***

  The Bluegrass Bend bakery was humming with life, their award-winning pies drawing people in from far and wide, adding to the regular lunchtime rush to make the place a bit of a madhouse. Ronny and Larry sat outside at one of the tables, wanting to enjoy the beautiful summer’s day away from the hustle and bustle. They leant across the table, making sure to keep their voices low, not wanting anyone nearby to be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. Ronny was well aware news could spread like wildfire on the bush telegraph and he didn’t want his dirty laundry aired on it. He could just imagine it:

  Have you heard that the new bloke in town is a murderer – you know, the one who’s taken over Sundown Farm?

  Oh my God, you’re kidding me! Lottie Sinclair’s nephew really murdered someone?

  He sure did, with his bare hands, and he’s just spent eight years in prison because of it. Lottie was lying when she said he’d been working away on stations up in the Territory – the hide of her to not let the Bluegrass Bend locals know that a convicted criminal would be living among us.

  Lottie Sinclair a liar? I never would have thought it.

  And that’s not even the most shocking thing.

  Oh, really?

  It was all because of that Tucker girl.

  Ronny shuddered at the thought. That conversation was never going to take place, if he had anything to do with it. Lottie deserved to retain her reputation as a woman of her word – which she most certainly was; she’d only s
aid what she had to protect him, and in return he had to protect her honour.

  After listening intently to Ronny’s take on the events over the past week, Larry sat back, silent, a contemplative frown creasing his face. Ronny dropped his gaze to Larry’s seafood mornay pie, swimming in tomato sauce. He shuddered at the sight – he hated tomato sauce – and took a bite from his lamb and fennel sausage roll, not knowing what to make of Larry’s loss for words – it was very unlike him.

  Larry sighed and folded his arms, his pie remaining untouched and his forehead creasing even more as he leant forwards. His eyes almost closed as he squinted into the sunshine, evidently forgetting his sunglasses were perched atop his head. ‘I wish I had a clear-cut answer for ya, Ronny, but I honestly don’t know what to tell ya to do, and I don’t know what our Lottie would say in this instance either.’ He held his hands up, mimicking a pair of scales, weighing the situation up. ‘Ya could just say ya don’t have enough time to take the job on but then it’d look really bad of ya to take a job somewhere else, and believe me, the Tucker women will find out if ya do that almost before ya know it yourself. Or ya could take the job on and keep your head down but then there’s always the risk that the more time Ivy spends with ya, the more likely it will be that something will trigger a memory and she’s going to recall who ya are, or ya gonna cave in and tell her the truth – and I know ya want to avoid that more than anything … and fair enough too.’ He threw his hands up in the air, huffing. ‘So, what to do? Fuck only knows. There’s only one thing we know for sure and that’s you’re between a rock and a bloody hard place.’ He sat forwards again, pulling his sunglasses on as he did, and finally took a bite from his pie.