‘Of course, deary.’
Kree headed for the dual-cab. Behind her, Mrs Jessop’s heels clacked on the cement footpath.
Kree manoeuvred open the ute door and placed her parcels on the passenger seat. She glanced around for a diversion to change the topic of conversation.
To her left, a small park featured an aged half-stone-and-half-timber building. She squinted into the glare to read the sign. Surely the lettering didn’t say what she thought it did?
‘Mrs Jessop, does that sign say Cobb and Co. coach house?’
‘Yes, that’s where the Cobb and Co. stage coaches stopped in the late 1800s.’
‘Glenalla is such a treasure trove of surprises. I had no idea stage coaches ran out here.’
Kree rummaged beneath the bags to find her sunglasses. She slipped on her polarised lenses to better inspect the old building.
‘There was also a pub,’ Mrs Jessop added, ‘but it burned down in the 1940s. The coach house and those stone stable pillars beside it are the only things left.’
‘It’s in such good condition for a historic building, but it looks unused?’
‘Before the drought, a Sydney artist bought it. It took a while but he eventually got permission from the local council to make changes. He spent a fortune on restoration and renovation, intending to open it as an art gallery and coffee house. But I’m guessing he went belly up as things haven’t progressed in five years.’
‘So, it’s all kitted out with a kitchen?’
‘I think so. I did poke my head in while it was being refurbished – you can’t be careful enough with out-of-towners around – and I do remember a sink.’
Kree looked along the empty main street. ‘Is there anyone who would know how to contact the Sydney owner?’
‘Steve at the general store would know. He’s the one who hired the contractors.’
Kree took a long look at the old Cobb and Co. coach house. Delight budded inside her. She’d just thought of a way to give Glenalla the town heart it deserved. All she needed now was a plan to lure tourists to the district and her debt to the warm-hearted community would be repaid.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Whiskey, cover your ears,’ Ewan told the black-and-tan kelpie lying sprawled on the concrete shed floor. He’d wasted a day replacing the hydraulic pump and now the airseeder still wasn’t right to go. Time was running out. He had to get the canola in, and then the wheat, before the soil moisture evaporated. He let fly with a string of heated words that would make even Travis blush. Not feeling any better, he scrubbed a hand over his face.
What was wrong with him? He didn’t normally possess such a short fuse.
He glanced at his watch. Kree had only been gone for two hours. It felt like five.
‘Right, Whisk, road trip.’
He’d head into town and get the wheel bearing required to fix the latest sowing glitch. At least this part would be available from the local mechanics, so he wouldn’t have to source it from Dubbo. He could always call Kree’s mobile and if she hadn’t left town yet she could collect it. Well, he could have if he’d had her phone number. He frowned. It just wasn’t going to be his day.
Ewan left the shed, Whiskey by his side, and went in search of Tish in the garden. He had no trouble finding her or the boys. Braye’s high-octane yells suggested there was water involved in whatever they were doing. And, sure enough, as he entered the back garden Braye and Darby, dressed in their board shorts and sun shirts, were dashing through the sprinkler. Every so often, Freckle would chase them only to stop and catch water droplets in his mouth. A wet Midget sat in the shade, her tongue lolling, while close by Fudge grazed, unaffected by all the fuss.
Tish called his name and he changed course to head into the veggie garden. She pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes as she straightened from digging in the soil.
‘No luck with the airseeder?’
Ewan sighed. ‘No. Is it that obvious?’
She smiled. ‘Let’s just say I’ve learned a few new words.’
Ewan glanced over at the boys. ‘Sorry.’
Tish chuckled. ‘It’s okay, they didn’t hear and I’m sure Braye knows them all, anyway. Remember that old truckie who picked up the last lot of cattle? Braye said they didn’t go into the truck very easily and the way his eyes brightened told me he’d heard a few things he shouldn’t have.’
‘We’ll have our work cut out for us when he’s a teenager.’
Tish laughed again. ‘I agree but it could be worse – Darby could be the same.’
Guilt’s icy fingers squeezed his chest. ‘You’re right, but you know what? I’d settle for a swear word or two if it meant Darby talked more.’
Tish lightly touched his arm. ‘Ewan, it isn’t your fault Darby doesn’t speak much. He’s just a quieter child and Braye talks for him.’
Ewan knew Tish wasn’t expecting a reply. They’d had this conversation numerous times but it didn’t ease an iota of his guilt. The emotional trauma Darby had suffered as a two-year-old had to play a role in his poor language skills. Even three-year-old, red-haired Mikey at the pub chattered more in five minutes than Darby did all day.
Braye caught sight of Ewan. ‘Come under the sprinkler, Uncy Ewy. It’s really fun.’
The coldness around Ewan’s heart deepened. As usual, Darby just nodded, never adding any extra words to Braye’s.
‘I’m off to town now, but we can all go for a swim when I come home.’
Both boys grinned their approval and raced under the sprinkler again.
‘Everything will be okay with Darby, you wait and see,’ Tish said, reinforcing her words with a gentle smile.
‘I hope so.’ His gruff reply had trouble leaving his throat.
On the drive to Glenalla, Ewan checked the approaching vehicles. Kree would be returning from town about now. But each car that passed wasn’t a colour or model match for the Tylers’ dual-cab ute. As a road-train carrying cattle flashed by, he fixed his attention on the tar road and forced his muscles to relax. He shouldn’t feel so on edge. Kree might not be an Aussie country-girl, but she could take care of herself. She might already be at Berridale doing her chores – that would be why he hadn’t seen her drive by. She also had a phone, so if she had a flat tyre or hit a roo, she’d be able to phone for help. But when he drove down the main street and saw a familiar white vehicle parked outside Beth Porter’s gift shop, relief still slid through him.
Kree stood across the road from the shop, her dark hair falling from a ponytail poked through the back of her cap, as she peered through the window of the old Cobb and Co. station. Ewan parked his own ute. He’d take five minutes to say hi and check she knew the way home from Berridale. But instead of turning off the engine, his hand hovered over the ignition key. What was he doing? He should collect his airseeder wheel-bearing and get home. Kree didn’t need watching over and he certainly shouldn’t be seeking her out. Darby’s reluctance to talk and the responsibility of providing for the boys and Tish’s future were constant reminders he didn’t deserve any happy endings.
A tap sounded on his driver’s side window. He cursed softly. He’d left leaving too late. But it was Mrs Jessop’s curious face that peered into his ute. He killed the engine and rolled down his window.
‘G’day, Moira.’
Her powerful perfume infiltrated the ute cabin and he stifled a cough.
‘Afternoon, Ewan. So nice to see you in town.’
Had she fluttered her eyelashes at him? He resisted the urge to reach for the ignition key and make his escape. Tish didn’t need to sign him up to any internet dating site, Mrs Jessop was already on his trail. Her eldest and recently single daughter was home from university.
‘Cassandra was only saying she hadn’t seen you since she’d worked with you to find the American boy.’
‘That would be about right. I’ve been busy.’ His words emerged more defensive than he’d intended, so he softened them with a grin. ‘Please say hi to her. Her help at t
he command post was invaluable. Not to mention the lamingtons were delicious.’
‘I’m so glad you liked them. She’s such a good cook. You know, you could thank her in person, she’s over at the library talking to Anne.’
Ewan made a show of checking his watch. ‘I wish I could, but I’ve got a part waiting to be collected and an airseeder to get operational. So, please pass on my thanks.’
Mrs Jessop nodded but disregarded his obvious hint and remained close to the window. ‘So, how’s it going having Kree staying? The poor thing looked quite distressed when I said she could be with you for a while. It’s understandable – after the stress of her brother going missing, she would of course need the peace and quiet of Berridale.’
Ewan stifled a twinge of unease that Kree still appeared unhappy staying at Marellen. ‘To be honest, I haven’t seen much of her.’
Relief relaxed Mrs Jessop’s plump cheeks. ‘What a shame.
She does seem a lovely girl, but a farmer’s work is never done.’
Mrs Jessop stepped away from the car. ‘Cassandra’s home for another week and it would be our pleasure to have you visit. You can’t work all the time. She can bake more lamingtons.’
‘Thanks, Moira. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind once sowing is finished.’
Mrs Jessop’s smile hardened. Married to a farmer herself, she knew sowing could often be subject to weather changes and machinery breakdowns and could take longer than planned. There was a strong chance that by the time he was done, Cassandra would have returned to university.
‘She’ll be home again soon, so if not now, you can see her then.’
Ewan counted to three as Mrs Jessop walked away. If he got to ten and she hadn’t returned, he’d be safe.
He tensed as footsteps sounded on the bitumen beside his car, but this time it was Kree. Deep in thought, she walked by, unaware of his presence. Common sense told him he should go and pick up his part, but the urge to see her proved too strong. He opened the driver’s side door, called her name and stepped out into the autumn heat.
She stopped mid-stride in the middle of the road and then turned to retrace her steps.
‘Ewan?’
‘Hi,’ he said, feeling strangely tongue-tied.
Her sunglasses shaded her eyes but her mouth curved in a smile.
‘Sorry, I should have asked at breakfast if you needed anything in town and saved you a trip.’
‘No worries. I only discovered I needed the airseeder part an hour ago.’
‘I could have gotten it for you.’
He grinned. ‘I thought of that, but I don’t have your number.’
‘Oops.’
She dug into her jeans pocket and her loose, white shirt lifted to expose the smooth skin of her waist and the curve of her hip. His mouth dried. Just like when he’d seen her on the steps at Berridale in fitted shorts and a snug, pink tee, his brain ceased to function.
‘Okay, what’s your number? I’ll give you a call so my number’s on your phone, too.’
Ewan recited his mobile number automatically. Heaven help him if Mrs Jessop was watching. The orientation of his body had to be screaming that he found the woman standing less than an arm’s distance away irresistible. He took a step backward, but Kree’s sweet vanilla scent followed. His phone chimed and he dragged it out of his shirt pocket with urgent fingers. He said a silent thank you that Tish hadn’t meddled with his ring tone again. He pressed the appropriate buttons and stored Kree’s number in his contacts.
‘Right,’ he said, turning away. ‘I’d better get to the mechanics and collect the wheel-bearing.’
Kree’s hand curled round his bicep. The shock of her touch burned through the thick drill of his shirt.
‘Wait. Can you please take something home for me?’
As quickly as she’d reached for him, she released his arm. ‘I’ve found some American candy and Beth is keeping it cool as I was worried it’d melt in the hot ute.’ She inclined her head towards Beth’s shop, already walking. ‘You also must meet her baby, Grace, she’s adorable.’
Ewan dragged in an unsteady breath. One touch. One simple, meaningless touch and need coiled his body as tightly as a ute’s suspension.
He crossed the road, scrolling through his phone contact list for Don and Maureen’s daughter’s number. Maybe Kathleen had tracked down her parents since his morning call. He had to organise a replacement pump. And fast. He had to get Kree back to Berridale before he did something they’d both regret.
CHAPTER NINE
Tish swept the pergola pavers with a wide straw broom, but as many of the yellow wisteria leaves she removed, the capricious breeze blew more her way. There was no sweeter smelling place when the pendulous purple blooms hung from the vine canopy above, but when the autumn leaves fell there was no bigger mess.
She stopped sweeping to rest her arms and looked towards the pool where Ewan and the boys were enjoying their afternoon swim. Ewan and Fergus had both been keen swimmers and when they’d moved to Marellen their parents had put in the four-lane pool, complete with a diving board. Swim training days over, it now provided a venue for the boys’ pool parties and offered a welcome respite from the summer heat. Dainty blue-and-black wrens would often balance on the pool cleaner hose and flap their wings into the water. Over the years a few wild ducks and even a brown snake had taken a dip.
‘Mum, look at me,’ Braye shouted before somersaulting off the diving board into the deep end. Tish’s hand fluttered to her throat. From where she stood, it appeared as though Braye’s head only just missed the end of the spring-loaded board. Had she stood to the side, she knew the view would have thankfully been different.
‘Great job, darling,’ she said, her hand lowering. ‘You’re getting so good at keeping your knees tucked into your chest like Uncle Ewy showed you.’
Darby carefully made his way onto the diving board and took his time readying himself at the end. Arms by his side, he stepped off into the water and performed a perfect pin drop.
Tish smiled. The two very different dives summed up her two diverse boys, and she wouldn’t have them any other way. She knew Ewan continued to feel responsible for Darby’s poor language development. But nothing Ewan had or hadn’t done in raising Darby since he was two had impacted on Darby’s speech. Even as a baby, Darby was a reserved and reticent child, unlike risk-taking chatterbox Braye. Darby had also been far more prone to illness and had caught cold after cold while Braye barely suffered a sniffle.
Darby came to the pool’s surface and Tish rested the broom against her chest so she could clap her hands. ‘Fabulous pin drop, darling. So straight and neat, you barely made a splash.’
Darby beamed at her before climbing from the pool and walking along the wide sandstone edge to make another dive. From outside the pool fence, Midget and Freckle barked as he passed. They’d been evicted from the pool yard for playing tug-o-war with Braye’s towel. Fudge had wandered off into the garden. Since the little goat had arrived, Tish had learned to shut her vegetable garden gate.
A fresh flurry of yellow leaves floated to the ground but Tish didn’t resume sweeping. Frowning, she tracked Ewan’s progress as he swum yet another lap. She’d thought the days of him obsessively training were behind them. When they’d first lost Fergus, Ewan would swim for hours. Gaunt and exhausted, it’d taken winter’s chill to freeze him out of his harsh regime.
She knew the financial stress he was under and the pressure he put on himself to be a good father to the boys, but it’d been years since she’d seen him swim with such force and focus. Had something happened in town? He’d said he’d collected the airseeder part no problems, and that he’d bumped into Kree who’d given him the boxes of American chocolates.
Tish resumed sweeping. The only thing in their lives that had changed was Kree coming to stay. Tish glanced towards the still-swimming Ewan. Had Ewan finally fallen for someone? It was too much to hope for. He deserved a family of his own and someone to love. Tish swep
t harder as nerves took flight in her stomach. If Ewan had developed feelings for Kree, then she’d have to break the status quo and talk to Travis. They’d have to have a conversation beyond the usual ‘hello’ and ‘how are the boys?’. Proud, stubborn and still-bruised Ewan would need someone in his corner, otherwise he may very well let Kree walk away.
Midget and Freckle bolted from their poolside-fence vigil and raced each other around to the front of the house. Tish hadn’t heard a car but Kree must have returned. Tish tackled the last of the leaves as Kree opened the French doors and joined her on the pergola.
‘Now that’s a job well done,’ Kree said, gazing around the neat and swept pavers.
Tish blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘Too right and you know what? I’ll come out in the morning and the leaves will cover the ground like snow.’
‘It’ll be my turn to sweep tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, but you’re here as our guest and I’m sure you’ve done your share of leaf and snow clearing. I’ll never forget skiing in Aspen and having to dig out our hire car. As smart and well-read as my father is, he wasn’t even sure what side of the shovel to use.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘If you met my citified parents, who haven’t ever used a garden tool in their life, you’d know I wasn’t.’
Kree grinned but as she looked out over to the pool yard, her smile died. Tish followed her gaze. Ewan had exited the pool and, unaware he had an audience, stood towel-drying his hair. His red and black boardies sat low on his lean hips, dripping water down his legs. He might be her brother-in-law, but even Tish could appreciate the flex and pull of the firm muscles beneath his golden tan.
Tish darted a quick glance at Kree. She was staring at Ewan. The only sign of life in her still body was the beat of her pulse at the base of her throat.
Still unaware of Kree’s presence, Ewan wrapped the towel around his hips. But as he tucked in the loose end, his head lifted and he looked straight at Kree.
Down Outback Roads Page 7
