by Stacey Nash
Cripes, it was hot in here. Hannah blew down her blouse. The shower kept running. Water spilling along the side of his face, down the chest she’d just leaned against. Hannah shuffled in her seat.
The water finally turned off, and she dragged her phone from her handbag in an attempt to look cool and collected. It didn’t work. Her heart crashed against her ribs, her stomach twirled, and she couldn’t get comfy on the chair, her wriggling betraying her distraction.
The bathroom door eased open, and Morgan emerged wearing jeans and a clean black t-shirt. He grabbed something from his luggage then sat on the edge of the bed.
‘Cooper or Jase?’
‘Coop,’ Hannah answered. ‘He’s impossible.’
‘He always was.’ Morgan pulled on a black sock.
Hannah found herself smiling, but her amusement was quick-lived. ‘I suspect he’s gone and vandalised the gin.’
‘Yeah?’ Morgan sat up straighter, his whole focus now on her. ‘That’s not good.’
‘I know. And he acted like a downright twerp when I confronted him, said he didn’t do it.’
‘How do you know that he did?’
‘He was covered in something brown. Ink, oil, some sort of chemical, I don’t know. He said it was paint.’
‘Isn’t he a sparky? He might have been using paint at work.’
Whenever she’d seen Cooper work he’d been playing with wires and cables, but maybe he used paint for marking line locations. It didn’t look like paint though … it was more of a stain. Hannah’s head spun. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, wrapped her scarf around her hands then let it fall undone. Maybe the splatters were innocent. Good god, no wonder he’d gotten angry.
Morgan scuffed up his damp hair, and Hannah couldn’t look away. Her thighs tingled. She shifted in the chair again.
‘Maybe he didn’t do it,’ Morgan said. ‘But if he did … he’s angry and that’s making him lash out. Couple that with the helplessness of not being able to change a thing and well … a lot of people around town are feeling the same way. Some are taking matters into their own hands. I’m not saying that’s right, but maybe Coop feels like he has no other option.’
‘There’s always another option.’
‘You know that. I know that. But when people are desperate they act irrationally.’
Hannah’s throat tightened. She hadn’t thought about Coop being desperate and just how far desperation could push someone. Neither of them were strangers to that. She glanced towards the window that had turned dark while Morgan had showered. Her twin’s townhouse was just over the Colorbond fence. A light shone in what was probably his bedroom window.
‘I know it’s not easy, but you need to stop feeling so responsible for him. For the sake of your own health.’
‘If something happened to either of my brothers, I couldn’t …’ She pressed the corner of her eyes, trying to push the threatening tears back in.
Morgan reached out and Hannah took his soft hand. He squeezed. ‘It’s highly unlikely that anything will happen.’
‘I just … I feel like if I don’t look out for him and Jase then they might get hurt. Or worse.’ Her chest tightened.
Morgan tugged her hand, pulling her onto the bed beside him and his strong arms folded around her. Soap and shampoo and all the good smells in the world mingled with Morgan’s unique scent. A whirlpool of emotions churned through Hannah: lust, desire, hopelessness, fear. She needed to save the ones she loved. Burtons stuck together. No matter what Morgan said she couldn’t let Cooper fall victim to his own foolishness. Not again.
Memories slammed into her—Coop drinking too much, partying too hard, driving too recklessly. Coop beating up other guys. Coop being dragged home by the cops.
What if … what if he accidentally hurt himself this time?
Chapter 17
This was about that arsehole. Well, what happened after Cooper found her. At least that was what Morgan suspected as he held Hannah in his arms. Old Abe had gone off his rocker back then, threatening to cut Coop loose. Or have him sent to juvie.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Morgan soothed and it wasn’t. It never had been.
‘I shouldn’t have told him about Andy back then.’
‘You couldn’t have not. He walked in.’
She clung tighter to him and although Hannah was one of the strongest people he’d ever known, she burst like a dam—all the pent-up emotion finally breaking free. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and brushed her curls back from her damp cheeks. The need to ravish her burned through him, but Morgan bit down on his own desires and held her tight. Hannah didn’t need to confuse the way she felt about him with the way she felt about everything else that was going on. No way in hell would he ever take advantage. Jase would string him up by his balls. Hell, he’d do it to himself.
She eventually stopped crying, but he still didn’t let go, and as she dissolved into him as if she were falling asleep, Morgan eased them both onto the bed. They lay there, him curled around her back, for so long that Hannah’s breathing softened and slowed into the rhythmic shallow breath of sleep. Her back rose and fell against him while Morgan lay wishing he could undo the past. Go back to the shitty night of Jase’s eighteenth and glue himself to her side.
Morgan’s body twitched in that way which often happened as he was dozing off, and Hannah moaned. She curled into herself, her body breaking away from his, then she shuddered under his arm and moaned again.
He scootched nearer, closing the gap she’d created. Whatever haunted her, he vowed not to let it win.
‘No!’ Hannah rolled onto her back, throwing an arm across the bed. An instant later she was back in a ball moaning, ‘No. Stop. No, no, no.’ Then she shot up off the bed, her face as white as the starched sheets.
Morgan reached for her trembling hand, but she flinched, curling both arms around her middle. He sat up. ‘I’m not gonna put the moves on you.’
‘It’s not that—it’s—it’s …’ Hannah scrabbled around on the table as if she were searching for something.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and snagged her arm. ‘Hannah. It’s okay. It was just a dream.’
She looked from him to her hands and back to him again, her face a mask of pure terror.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘I—I—I—no.’
‘Okay.’ Morgan tugged his shoes on, but didn’t get the laces tied before Hannah was up and opening the door. He had to jog to catch her, and with a hand to her waist he spun her around. ‘Hannah?’
She studied his face with wide eyes. Morgan searched her expression for any hint of a clue, and under his steady gaze the fear dropped away. A change overtook her features, softening her grassy eyes, smoothing the lines across her brow. A sigh slipped between her sweet lips and Hannah dropped to the ground. Crouching, she picked up his untied shoelaces.
‘Sometimes I remember,’ she spoke softly while twisting the laces into a knot. ‘And when I wake up it feels like it’s happening again, right now.’
Morgan dropped to his haunches and looked her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too.’ She kissed him, in the middle of the Great Western’s carpark with security lights shining down on them. When they broke apart, both slightly breathless and kneeling on the asphalt, he took her hand and walked her all the way to her car.
The white ute was a speck of red tail-lights when he finally turned and hiked back to his room. It felt as if he’d won the lottery, but used his mate’s favourite numbers.
***
Morgan flipped open his laptop, plugged in the wireless dongle and clicked on Outlook while the internet connected. He’d been checking in with the office regularly, and Trinity seemed pleased with his progress. His colleague Suki was taking care of some of his clients back home and she kept him in the loop.
No sooner had the email program opened than the internet kicked in and new messages flooded his inbox.
His phone vib
rated against the timber side table and Morgan picked it up. Hannah.
I really appreciated your support last night. Can we hang this afternoon?
Finish here at 4.
I’ll pick you up.
Smiling, Morgan set the phone aside. It wasn’t like he was sidestepping Jase’s wishes—well, maybe a little. If he spoke to his mate again and made Burton see how much Hannah meant then he would see that Morgan’s intentions were good.
He returned to checking emails. Trinity had forwarded some resources on rural mental health. Suki had briefed him on the lady he’d first seen the day he left for Mindalby. A bunch of junk littered the screen, along with jokes passed on from mates, and there at the very top of the unread list, the most recent message in the whole inbox, sat another from his boss. The subject caught his attention: clock’s ticking, funds drying. He clicked it open with a sense of dread.
Hi Morgan
Thanks for your continued efforts in Mendibby. After a phone conference with the administrator today, it was stated that things out there are running smoothly. She’s happy with the way the townsfolk are pulling together and supporting one another through this time of crisis. That being said, they want to know how much longer you think the people will need your support.
Trinity Cartwright BPsych (Hons) MPsych (Clinical)
Managing Director
Banish Blue
They were thinking about pulling him already? When he’d only just started making progress? Courtney Clifton was still in crisis and Jim … the older man hadn’t made any progress towards getting back on his feet. Morgan dragged a hand through his hair and clicked reply.
Dear Trinity,
Thanks for checking in. I’ve managed to coax some of those in need into seeking out help. We’ve just started a group session, which ran well. I’m hoping it continues to grow.
Although people are pulling together, not all of those affected have been so brave. The town has seen a rise in depression and alcoholism. Many people are refusing aid in the form of food drives and rental assistance. The townsfolk would benefit from Banish Blue’s continued services. At least until the majority find their footing and the factory closure is either made permanent and redundancies paid or the business reopens.
Regards,
Morgan Harris BA (SocSc), Grad Dip Psych, Dip Counselling
Crisis Counsellor
Banish Blue
He hit send then shut the computer. At ten to noon, there were only a few minutes before his next client. And only four hours until Hannah arrived.
Chapter 18
Dust billowed around three flatbed trucks as they trailed one another out of Burton Park. The trays loaded with unprocessed modules of cotton made Hannah’s mood lift. They were off to Brisbane for processing then straight onto their new buyer—a Chinese company that didn’t care where the product shipped from, so long as it was theirs.
Hannah stood on the front verandah and Pop moved in beside her, leaning against the support post. ‘Ain’t that a relief?’
‘It sure is. Jase did well.’
Pop harrumphed.
‘You and he need to chat.’
‘Enjoy work.’ The old man clapped her on the back the same way he often did the boys, and went back inside. Frustrated as she was at their spat, Hannah smiled as she walked over to her ute. It had been a long time coming, but she finally felt like he saw her in the same light he did his grandsons—that she was both worthy and capable of running the family business without needing one of them issuing orders.
She climbed into the car and waved goodbye to the grey-haired senior as she pulled away. The trip down the driveway was so dusty that even cutting off outside air didn’t stop the taste of dirt from coating her tongue. She should have put off leaving until the trucks were gone, but she’d been waiting all day, and another ten minutes would be ten minutes less she got to spend with Morgan. Since confessing her fears to him last night she felt somehow better, as if speaking them aloud had set her free.
The three-truck-one-car convoy reached the end of the long drive, and Hannah internally cheered as the transport trucks turned the opposite way to her. After the snail’s pace crawl down the drive, the trip to town sped by and Hannah found herself pulling into the small carpark behind the Ace before she knew it. The short walk to the community centre did not speed by, however—it took bloody forever. Not that it was far, but more that she just wanted to be there already.
She strolled into the centre right on four pm. The door that led into Morgan’s little room stood open, so she snuck a peek inside. Alone, Morgan noticed her right away. An instant happiness swept over his face, which Hannah’s heart mirrored. With an eager shove, he closed the laptop and crammed it into a satchel, then slung that on his shoulder. Three long strides and he stood close enough to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Like he’d been doing it all his life.
‘Hi there.’
‘Hi yourself.’ She smiled.
Morgan smiled back. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Morgan’s grin faded as he pulled back and studied her outfit.
Hannah sighed. ‘I start work at five.’
A groan rumbled from within him. Hannah felt his pain. Work was the last place she wanted to go right then. As they left the building, Morgan scanned the street. ‘No car?’
‘It’s at work already.’
‘Then let’s walk.’
Hannah set a slow pace in the direction of the Ace. ‘I’m sorry I freaked out last night.’
‘Hey …’ Morgan’s arm brushed against hers. ‘Don’t apologise for what you have no control over.’
Somehow, the nightmare felt less scary in the daylight. Like the living memory was less real. ‘It’s so stupid. I don’t know why I panicked.’
‘Because sometimes fear isn’t rational.’
‘I guess.’
They walked along the street, passing the bakery and the bank and finally the Ace in the Hole. Continuing on to Morgan’s motel, Hannah waited outside while he slipped in to dump his computer. There was still a good forty minutes until her shift started, so when he returned they kept walking.
‘How long since you’ve been to the park?’ Hannah asked.
‘Since the night of year twelve muck-up.’
‘That was a whole two months before you left town.’
‘You counted?’
‘Nope.’ Hannah tamped down a smile. She’d lamented, actually, while cursing herself for caring.
‘That rotunda stunt was as good as your purple sheep.’
They walked all the way to the park in companionable silence. Green grass sponged underfoot despite the recent dry spell and the delicious scent of pine needles underlined the crisp air. Glorious and grand were a few words Hannah would have chosen to describe the rotunda that took pride of place in the centre of the park. The local council tidied it up every few years with a fresh coat of paint and despite the recent spate of violence about town, the great structure remained unblemished.
‘Is the nightmare recurring?’ Morgan asked.
‘You could say that.’
Hannah sat at the picnic bench, her back pressed against the wooden table.
Their hips brushed when Morgan sat. ‘Writing it out, but giving the horror a happy ending, could change the way the nightmare plays out, you know.’
‘I don’t want to talk about nightmares.’ Hannah got up and walked towards the rotunda. It wouldn’t be long before she had to head into work and that conservation was best left untouched.
***
Unwrapping her scarf, Hannah entered the Ace in the Hole through the front doors and popped her bag under the bistro bar. No staff were about, even though the tables were ready for the evening shift.
She returned to the main bar and the smell of beer smacked her in the face. She didn’t dislike it, but she didn’t love the tang of fermenting yeast either. Unlike Jonno, who stood up the far end of the bar, his usual cronies perched around him like waiting seagulls. She let herself in
behind the counter and ducked out back to the store room, where a copy of this week’s roster was pinned to the board along with the one that followed. There was just tonight’s shift left for this week. Using her index finger as a guide, Hannah traced the names down next week’s roster until she found her own then followed it across the days. Her whole body tensed. It couldn’t be right. There had to be a mix-up.
She didn’t have a single shift.
She found Ruby’s name, and the cook only had three. What the hell?
Jonno’s shifts looked pretty normal, but almost everyone else’s had been cut drastically.
Surely things weren’t so bad as to halve the entire staff’s hours. Hannah snapped a quick photo on her phone then went to find Jonno.
‘What’s with next week’s roster?’
‘Ah.’ He twisted a schooner under the VB tap, perfecting the frothy head. ‘Manager’s cuttin’ the bistro’s openin’ hours till further notice.’
‘Geez.’ Hannah palmed her waist. ‘I knew things were quiet, but geez.’
‘I’m sorry, love.’ Jonno sat the beer on the counter and amber liquid rolled over the lip and onto the bar mat. ‘Business is slow since the closure, and we’re not coverin’ wages.’
‘But still …’ Hannah picked at the damp fabric. ‘Not a single shift.’
Jonno’s dark eyes apologised as he shrugged. ‘Check back next week.’
Hannah turned towards the bistro. That bit of money on the side made a big difference to her weekly budget. Sure, she didn’t pay rent or buy groceries, the farm covered all of their basic needs, but still … it was nice to buy lunch once in a while, to pick up a new outfit now and then, purchase gifts for her family.
Another measly two hours—which wasn’t really worth the petrol used in coming to town—and Hannah finished work. Driving past the motel where Morgan was probably sprawled out on his bed was hard. So was approaching Cooper’s door without glancing over the fence and knowing if she could just get to the second floor of the tiny townhouse, she’d have a clear view into the motel room. Hannah had reverted into the same schoolgirl who couldn’t cross the quad without checking to see where he was, which was insane. The familiar feelings zooming around inside her were equally insane, only stronger. She ought to go see him, but right then her priorities lay with her twin.
