by Stacey Nash
‘As much as I’d love to share a plate of oysters, I’m not eating seafood this far inland.’ He mock frowned. ‘Steak will have to do.’
‘Same as last time?’
‘Thanks.’
Hannah hurried the order in to Ruby, who’d placed a steak on the skillet as if she knew exactly what he’d want. On her way back out, she circled around the main bar to grab another tray of unpolished glasses. Jonno was renowned for putting them through the glass washer then dumping the tray straight onto an empty rack to dry with water stains.
She sidled up to the bar and before she could request a tray, he plopped one full of spotty middies onto the counter.
‘What sort of rubbish was Coop talking?’
‘Nothin’ that ain’t already been said—that Don Carter’s a mongrel who needs to come out of hidin’, that the administrator oughtta open up and give back what ain’t the factory’s. He was just blowin’ hot air. He was pretty pissed though. Couldn’t stand without the help of my bar.’ Jonno slapped a hand against the beer mat lining the counter.
Hannah’s good mood fled. ‘Did he get away okay?’
‘He was with a mate. He’ll be home safe.’
Hannah hefted the glasses. ‘Thanks for keeping an eye out, Jonno.’
‘Never a problem.’
She made her way back into the bistro. It could have been the dodgy bloke that Coop left with, or it could have been his workmate, Mick. The glasses all rattled in the tray as she dropped it onto the counter in the bistro bar; then she grabbed her phone from her bag before ducking into the kitchen. Cooking meat carried an aroma able to make her mouth water like no other smell. Ignoring the pang of hunger, Hannah fired off a text to her twin.
You home?
No immediate response followed.
‘This meal’s almost up.’
Hannah flinched at Ruby’s voice. Guiltily, she slipped the phone into her apron’s front pocket then rapped long fingernails against the bench, each beat in time with her racing thoughts: Coop passed out, Coop lying in a ditch, Coop breaking into the gin. Coop, Coop, Coop.
‘Do you have to?’ Ruby directed a look at Hannah’s hand then slid the medium-rare steak onto a white plate already laden with a garden salad.
Hannah pulled her hand back and waited.
Ruby wiped spilled sauce from the edge of the plate. ‘All done.’
Snatching it off the bench, Hannah strode through the door, into the bistro. As she slid the plate onto the counter in front of Morgan, she heaved out a sigh.
‘Lamenting the lack of oysters?’
Hannah smiled as she grabbed a rag with which to polish the glassware. ‘It could have been a sweet moment.’
‘It would have been more than a moment.’
A furious flush heated her cheeks and Hannah ducked her head, plucking her phone from her apron pocket. With Morgan the only person around, she felt safe to check for messages, but Coop hadn’t sent one.
Jase had.
Got a new buyer. Higher price. Happy to ship from Bris. Just gotta get those bales out of the gin. Sold them too. I’m still out.
Hannah tossed her phone into her bag and snatched up a glass, pulling the bucket of watery vinegar closer. She dunked the middie as if it were the pain in her butt.
‘What’s wrong?’ Morgan’s cutlery scraped across his plate.
‘Pigheaded brothers,’ Hannah complained. ‘Two of them.’
‘Still?’
‘Coop hasn’t answered my calls or texts since that night with the blueprints.’ She stuffed the rag into the glass and pushed it around. Nothing bad could happen with her brother. The family couldn’t survive another scandal. ‘What if he uses what was on them?’
‘Then that will be on him. Not on you.’
‘But he could get arrested, or worse.’
‘And that’s a price he’ll have to pay.’
Hannah’s stomach twisted. ‘He can’t go to jail.’
Morgan placed his cutlery on the edge of his plate, and looked her in the eye. ‘If—and it’s a huge if, because I don’t think Cooper’s that stupid—he winds up in trouble with the law, you will be okay. You’ll keep living your life, and Coop will keep living his, and you’ll both come out the other side.’
She wasn’t sure how, but Morgan’s words released a little of her tension. ‘I hope so.’
‘Now, what’s going on with Jase?’ A frown creased Morgan’s brow.
She rolled her eyes, set the gleaming glass aside and grabbed another. ‘Just business stuff.’
Morgan picked up his knife and fork, paying attention to his cooling food. While he ate, Hannah filled him in about the plans to diversify Burton Park and Jase’s outright resistance to change. Morgan really was very easy to talk to. He was quickly becoming a close friend. But friends came with risks—the risk of them betraying you, the risk of them totally misunderstanding you as a person.
Risks weren’t really something Hannah could handle.
After Morgan had finished eating, she cleared his plate and took it back to the kitchen. Ruby had killed all but the small light over the sink and had her handbag slung over her shoulder.
‘Better finish up now, love. Shoo the counsellor out to Jonno and lock up.’ She palmed the door then stopped to say, ‘I’ll see you next shift.’
Ruby disappeared into the bistro. Two measly hours—that was how long Hannah had been at work—the bare minimum. She shouldn’t lament the loss of an extra fifty dollars in her pay packet when so many people around town hadn’t gotten a pay packet for two weeks, but geez it was hard. She hand-washed Morgan’s plate since there wasn’t enough for a dishwasher load and set it on the bench. Untying the knot at her waist caused her apron to fall away. Hannah tossed it in the laundry bag before returning to the bar.
‘Time to go, Mr Harris. Bistro’s closed.’
He brought a hand to his heart. ‘Are you kicking me out again?’
‘Again.’ Hannah flicked off the fridge lights, then the bar lights. Morgan didn’t make a move to leave and she found herself tamping down a smile as she grabbed her handbag from under the counter. Maybe she wasn’t ready to part ways either. The fire wasn’t burning tonight, so there was no need to snuff it; still, she moved to the open fireplace and picked up the poker.
Morgan appeared behind her, his presence creating an almost tangible friction. ‘You have no control over Cooper’s actions, but you need to learn to tell him how those actions make you feel.’
She jabbed the heavy rod at a half burned log, cold and black as her fears for her brother.
‘Like right now,’ Morgan said, ‘I have no control over the way you’re going to react when I kiss you, but I’m not going to let that stop me from leaning forward, from listening to see if your breath hitches, if your voice catches, if you lean in too. Because, Hannah, I feel this and feelings matter.’
His body brushed against her back as his hand closed over hers on the poker, pushing it to lean against the mantle. Hannah’s heart beat like it was trying to escape her chest and her legs had liquefied, but Morgan’s hands moved to her shoulders, helping her spin around to face him.
He did exactly as promised. He slowly brought his face towards her. His alluring eyes did not shift from hers as he closed the distance between them. There was less than a pinkie finger’s space between their mouths when Hannah’s eyes fell closed. She pushed up onto her toes, her lips the ones to make contact with the softness of his. Hannah soared as their mouths moved languidly, sharing a kiss she’d only ever dreamed of. Oh holy gif, she was kissing Morgan Harris. Hannah’s hands flew to his collar, pulling Morgan’s body flush against hers. She kissed him like she’d never kissed anyone before, all tongue and wanting and need. His arms closed around her and a small sound rumbled in her throat. That only seemed to encourage Morgan, his tongue dancing through her mouth as if it belonged there.
They broke apart, and the grin on Morgan’s face made her smile. He grabbed her hand in his and led her
out of the bistro and through the main bar. Once outside, they both stood in the cold grinning at each other like a pair of lovesick teenagers while the wind whipped about them, and Hannah kissed him again. She didn’t stop smiling the entire way home.
Chapter 14
The circle was almost full. A surprising turnout considering he’d posted flyers around the community centre, the CWA Hall, and the pub only yesterday morning. Morgan hadn’t expected many to show up for the first group session he’d titled: What’s next? That was why he’d only got out half a dozen chairs, which turned out to be barely enough.
Elsie Sumner sat across from him, her hands ripping a tissue to shreds. She’d told the group she had worked in the factory since leaving high school. Jim McDonald looked more comfortable with being there. Slouched in his chair, the older man clenched a thermos of coffee. He’d been working as an odd-jobs man at the factory for years. Morgan was sure Jo Johnson wasn’t there for the therapy so much as to check the session out. She’d admitted as much when introducing herself as the DJ responsible for the news section at the local radio station. Then there was Immy, a recent school-leaver who’d been working at the factory since January in order to support herself and her ailing mother.
Morgan ensured he made eye contact with each of them. ‘It sucks that this has happened to you all. The factory may or may not reopen, and the wait to find out could stretch on for some time. Would anyone like to talk about how they’ve been feeling?’
‘Stressed,’ Jim announced. ‘The worry caused my Esther to have a heart attack.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about your wife,’ Morgan hedged. ‘It’s a very stressful time.’
Jim exhaled a humph.
Elsie scratched at her blonde hair. ‘You’re mostly stressed because of money?’
‘Can’t pay the rent with anything else.’
‘Did you go to the fundraiser?’ Immy asked. ‘I was given enough to settle our rent debt.’
‘Handouts aren’t for me.’ Jim straightened in his plastic chair.
A puzzled look stole across Immy’s thin face. ‘Better to take a handout than be forced onto the streets.’
Jim’s mouth slammed closed, but his body language betrayed his pride. Morgan turned the focus away from him. ‘Jo, you’ve been quiet. How are you holding up?’
The reporter picked the notepad up from her lap, uncrossed her legs and pulled them under her chair. ‘I—ah—well. I’m worried about my brother.’
Morgan nodded in encouragement.
Jo doodled on the paper. ‘Things around town haven’t been pretty these past few weeks.’
After a small pause in which no one spoke, Morgan said, ‘It seems that most of you aren’t in a position to wait and see what happens, so we need to look at what other options are available.’
‘There are zero new jobs in Mindalby,’ Elsie complained. ‘I don’t want to move away, but it’s looking like a real possibility.’
‘I can't leave home to look for work elsewhere. Mum's got MS, and she needs me to help her with more and more stuff,’ Immy added.
‘Sometimes there’s not a lot of choice.’ Jo still doodled in the corner of her notepad.
‘Not when you can’t even get the dole.’ That was Elsie again.
‘You tried that, too?’ Immy’s chair screeched on the floor as she spun around to better see the other woman. ‘I called them the day the gates locked, and the operator didn’t know if I could even apply. She said technically I was employed and needed a separation certificate. What even is that?’
Elsie scoffed. ‘I doubt anyone’s handing those out.’
Jim shook a fist. ‘Bloody Don Carter ought to try living with no pay for four weeks and see how hungry his gut gets.’
‘Yeah.’ Immy blinked wide eyes.
Morgan intervened. ‘Feeling angry is valid. How can you harness that in a way that makes you feel better?’
‘Knocking Carter to his feet would make me feel better.’ The old man had spunk, but Morgan doubted he’d be able to knock over anyone.
Ignoring them, Morgan continued, ‘There are a few places around town where you could get involved with the community. Perhaps volunteer at Meals on Wheels, or help out at the homeless shelter. Maybe animals are more your thing. I was over at the RSPCA earlier today and they’re crying out for help.’ He paused to take a sip of water from his bottle. ‘Sometimes taking the focus away from our own hardships helps us to deal with them better.’
Elsie nodded, but Jim’s scowl hadn’t budged.
‘Or if you’re not that way inclined, do something to help yourself. There are online courses to help build new skills, or perhaps you have existing skills that you could utilise in a new way. The government gives out grants for start-up businesses.’
‘Great idea.’ Jo scrawled notes in her pad.
‘I can mow lawns.’ Elsie grinned, her eyes alight with promise.
‘Can’t we all,’ Jim grumbled, setting his thermos on the ground.
‘Exactly,’ Morgan said. ‘Not everyone in this town is doing it tough. There would be people prepared to pay someone to mow for them. Or iron for them—some even need help with childcare.’ This time he looked at Immy. ‘If your skill set is more in line with administration, there are plenty of jobs that can be done remotely from your own home. Social media managers, ghost writers—some newspapers even hire remote journalists.’
Immy and Elsie were both nodding with smiles in place while Jim counted on his fingers and Jo’s pen worked furiously over her page.
For that handful of people, Morgan felt as though he was finally making a difference. As though these four would leave today’s session feeling positive with new hopes and plans to replace the hopelessness they’d been feeling for the past fortnight. And maybe they’d go away and talk to others; then the next session would be twice as big.
After the meeting had finished and the last person exited the community centre, Morgan turned to his phone. Other than a missed call from his boss, Trinity, there were no messages. He usually sat back and let girls chase him, but Hannah hadn’t made contact since they’d kissed last night and the constant checking of his phone was doing his head in. It was time to take a stand.
***
The trip up Burton Park’s long driveway had Morgan both pumped and twisted up. It had been six years since he’d last travelled the bumpy gravel road, yet it felt as if it hadn’t been long at all. Back then he and Jase had been tight and although their friendship hadn’t ended, they hadn’t really parted on good terms. Even so, he should’ve visited earlier. Not waited until after he’d kissed his mate’s sister.
Morgan squinted against the setting sun, repositioning his visor to try and cut the glare. Up ahead the driveway split in two. He swung his hire car to the left, onto the road that hadn’t been there six years ago, and followed it over a cattle grid and towards the river. When he’d run into Cooper earlier, the younger Burton brother had told him where to find Jase’s house. Sure enough, there it was, sitting on the last rise before the riverbank, with lights shining in all the windows.
Before Morgan had even killed the engine, Jase appeared on the porch with a young blue heeler at his side.
‘Harris!’ Jase shouted as he jogged down the steps, dog in tow. The two exchanged a firm handshake and Jase slapped Morgan’s shoulder. ‘I heard you were in town. What took you so long to get out here?’
‘Forgot where to find you.’ Morgan grinned as he glanced around. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’
Jase laughed and held open the front door. ‘Built it myself. Come in. I’ve got some coldies on ice.’
Morgan’s chest loosened at the ease in their friendship as he followed Jase into a small living room with a kitchen off to the side. He glanced around with a new-found appreciation for the wood and brick cottage. ‘You always were good with your hands.’
Jase disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the promised beers. He passed one to Morgan then dropped into one o
f two shabby lounges. Morgan took the other and cradled his beer. The same brand they’d drunk as kids, the bottle felt right in his grip. Not that he was a big drinker.
‘How’ve you been?’ Jase asked.
‘Good. Work’s killing me, seeing all these people around Mindalby so lost …’ Morgan shook his head.
‘Yeah. The closure has hit most people pretty hard. It’s stuffed us up, and I don’t even work there. Can’t imagine what it’s done to the poor buggers who take a wage.’ Jase settled back, resting his beer on the armrest. ‘I heard you’re helping folk through it. You’re a shrink now?’
‘Something like that.’
Jase took a swig of beer. ‘It’s gotta be weird coming back here and doing all your head doctor stuff on people who used to chase us off their lawns.’
Morgan laughed. ‘Or chicks we went to school with.’ There had been a few of those in his office recently. ‘How’re things around here?’
‘Not bad.’ Jase hoicked a leg up onto his knee, his fingers pressing between his long toes. ‘Hannah’s a bit of a nightmare, but other than that, same, same.’
It was the perfect opportunity to mention his feelings for her, but Morgan stalled with the weight of the words stuck on his tongue.
‘Wants to go changing what’s not broken. Pop made us joint farm managers six months back, but gee, that girl’s not easy to work with.’
The surprise Morgan felt must have shown on his face, because Jase nodded and threw back his drink. Once he’d taken a good swig, Morgan set his own beer aside, which clinked as it hit the glass tabletop. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about her.’
Jase frowned, his voice uneasy as he said, ‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve run into her a couple of times and things …’ He cleared his throat.
‘She alright?’ Jase’s beer bottle hit the table with a clatter and he leaned forward. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing like that, mate.’ Morgan shook his head. A small smile tugged at his lips. ‘We click. She’s like, hmm, like …’ There was no easy way to say it.
Body language never lied, and Jase’s changed right away. ‘Really, mate?’
