Talk of the Town

by Rachael Johns

  ‘Be careful,’ Lawson warned, ‘or I won’t let you have any at all. Now, what do you say to Meg?’

  Ned looked slightly chastised. ‘Thanks for the jelly slice, Meg, and thanks for having us over for lunch and thanks for letting me play with Cane and thanks for letting me look around your haunted house and thanks—’

  ‘Okay, okay, we get the picture.’ As Meg laughed, Lawson placed his hands on Ned’s shoulders. ‘We need to make a move.’

  He was as reluctant to leave as his son, but he forced his feet to move and the three of them walked towards the front door with Cane darting between them. Meg clipped a leash onto the pup’s collar as she opened the front door and then they were standing there on the porch as if in limbo between two worlds.

  ‘Thanks so much for lunch,’ he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and fiddling with his wallet and keys.

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ she replied, her hand drifting up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

  With Ned on his knees giving Cane a lengthy hug goodbye, Lawson found himself standing awkwardly on the porch like some teenage boy at the end of a first date. Only this wasn’t a date and he wasn’t a teenage boy. Time seemed to stop but his heart was tick-tocking away inside him like a clock on steroids.

  Finally, Ned looked up and broke the silence. ‘I thought we were in a hurry.’

  ‘Right.’ Lawson blinked and yanked his keys out of his pocket. ‘Thanks again,’ he said, before leaning forwards and brushing his lips against Meg’s cheek. He could taste the soft sweetness of her skin on his lips and the yearning to taste more of her invoked a whole host of complicated feelings inside of him.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she whispered.

  ‘See you soon,’ Ned said, as he grabbed hold of Lawson’s hand and tugged.

  With a final nod of his head, he turned and walked with Ned over to his ute. He climbed inside and, as he started the vehicle, lifted a hand to wave goodbye, but Meg had already gone back inside.

  Later that night, when Ned had fallen asleep in front of the TV while watching Minions and been half-carried, half-led off to bed, Lawson sat out on the front verandah with Tabitha, each of them nursing a beer.

  She dropped her knitting in her lap for a moment to take a sip of her beer. ‘So,’ she said, when she picked it back up, jammed the stationary needle under her short arm and started the next line, ‘are you going to tell me about your day?’

  Lawson raised an eyebrow. Over dinner Ned had given an elaborate account of their afternoon—what Meg had made for lunch, the water fiasco, the jelly slice, the Uno, the exploring of the house. ‘I thought you heard it all from Ned.’

  ‘Yes, and reading between the lines he has quite a little crush on your new friend, but to be honest, I’m more interested in your feelings. You’ve been very quiet this evening.’

  ‘That’s because I couldn’t get a word in with Ned.’ He took another gulp of beer, but it didn’t bring its usual satisfaction.

  ‘Well, Ned isn’t here now,’ Tab said pointing her knitting around the verandah as if to prove her point, ‘and I’m all ears. Tell me about this Meg. And don’t give me any bullshit—this is me you’re talking to—and I can tell she’s got under your skin.’

  He sighed long and hard. ‘I like her, Tab.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Her voice pierced the otherwise silent night air as she cracked a smile and leaned forward in her seat. ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘And … what is it you like so much about her?’

  Heat rushed to his cheeks as he recalled seeing her nipples through her wet top. Hopefully the dim lighting under the verandah meant Tab didn’t notice because there were certain things he didn’t want to admit to his little sister.

  But it wasn’t just a physical thing with Meg.

  He liked the way she laughed and the non-condescending way she interacted with Ned. Her competitiveness during Uno had turned him on almost as much as the wet-T-shirt episode had. Her cooking not only made his taste buds sing but satisfied his soul, and it wasn’t the only thing she was good at—the progress she’d made on the house in such a short time showed she had plenty of skills in other areas. He admired the guts she obviously possessed to be able to move to a near-deserted town and her ambition to start a business there, which wouldn’t be an easy feat. He found her interest in rather than fear of the possibility of a ghost fascinating, so much so that she’d made him contemplate the existence of something he definitely hadn’t believed in before.

  And maybe all these things were what terrified him so much. Physical attraction—however surprising—he could deal with, but actually liking another woman enough that he wanted to spend time with her felt like a massive betrayal to Leah.

  ‘Earth to Lawson!’ Tab waved her knitting needles at him. ‘We’re supposed to be having a conversation here.’

  ‘I’m sorry. What was the question again?’

  She chuckled. ‘What’s Meg like?’

  ‘She’s kinda quiet, but interesting. She’s got these plans to start a tea room in the old building and sell local art and craft there as well.’

  ‘Sounds like quite an ambition. Most people who want to start a business would choose somewhere a little more populated.’ Tab took another sip of her beer. ‘I wonder if she’d like to sell my ice-cream in her shop?’

  ‘She’s a long way from opening, but that’s a good idea. You should ask her.’

  ‘Maybe I will. I must admit I’m itching to meet the woman who can make you blush.’

  Dammit. She’d noticed. He blushed again and Tabitha laughed. ‘So, what else did you talk about?’

  He told her about the mention of a possible ghost and about how Meg had lost all her family at once in a horrible fire. ‘She was close to her mum’s parents, but then they died close together as well recently.’

  ‘Geez, that’s a lot of crap for one person to deal with. But surely she had friends to help her through it. Did she mention a boyfriend?’

  Lawson shook his head. He’d been desperate to ask this and so many other questions, but Meg came across as a very private person and, at the risk of sounding like a journalist or a detective and scaring her off, he’d swallowed almost all of them.

  ‘Never mind. That’ll give you something to talk about next time you see her.’

  When he didn’t say anything, Tab added, ‘When are you going to see her again?’

  ‘I don’t know. We didn’t make any arrangements.’ And he’d been kicking himself ever since.

  ‘So, you had lunch at her place and then left without so much as offering to repay the favour and have her out here for a meal?’ Tab shook her head. ‘Lawson, Lawson, Lawson, where are your manners?’

  ‘I was flustered,’ he admitted. Why didn’t the woman have a mobile phone? Then he could send her a casual text thanking her for lunch and asking if she wanted to grab a bite to eat in the café again one day. The thought made his heart race and his palms sweat, longing and nerves whirling together.

  ‘It’s understandable that you feel unsure about this,’ Tab said, nodding at his hand. He looked down and realised he was twisting his wedding ring again. ‘It’s a big move thinking about seeing someone new, but you’re allowed to feel attracted to someone else. Hell, you’re even allowed to fall in love again.’

  A bitter taste came into his mouth at this alien thought.

  Tab smiled at him. ‘Leah was one of the best women I’ve ever known—she was loving, kind, warm, generous and selfless, which means I know she’d want you to be happy. See where things go with Meg, have a little bit of fun. I’m sure Leah would want you to be having fun.’

  Oh Leah. Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?

  Everything would have been so much easier if she were still there. He wouldn’t be a single dad and he wouldn’t have to contemplate whether or not he was ready to start dating again.

  ‘In fact,’ Tab added, her tone wary, ‘do
you think perhaps it’s time you took that ring off?’

  He ignored her question and instead tried to think of a pretext to drop by Meg’s place again. Unwittingly, he’d already used the old ‘flat tyre’ excuse and he couldn’t exactly buy her another puppy.

  ‘I know!’ He leaned forwards, excited. ‘Meg’s got all this junk piled up on her back verandah that she needs to take to the tip. I could go over and offer to help her with it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tab nodded her head slowly, ‘taking a woman to the tip. That’s a great date. You are out of practice, aren’t you?’

  He sighed and flopped back in the chair. ‘To be fair, I don’t think I was ever in practice.’

  She snorted and took a sip of her beer.

  ‘Well, Miss Dating Expert,’ he asked. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘Hey, I may not go on many dates …’ When he raised an eyebrow, she clarified ‘… okay, any dates, but I’m a woman and I know if I wanted to get to know a guy better, a trip to the local tip would be pretty much at the bottom of my list. Why not go over there one lunch time with a picnic basket?’

  ‘No. Way too romantic. I just want to get to know her a bit better but I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.’

  ‘And what would that be? That you think she’s hot and want to get in her pants?’

  ‘Tabitha!’

  ‘Forgive me for straight-talking, big brother, but that’s what two people do these days when they like each other.’

  He shrugged one shoulder, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel. ‘That may be a fact but I have no idea if Meg feels anything for me anyway.’

  And he didn’t want to embarrass himself (or her) by making a move if she didn’t. Then there was the worry that he was so out of practice that if he and Meg did take things to the next level, he’d not be able to last long enough to bring her any pleasure. He shifted in his seat at the thought.

  Not a concern he planned on voicing to his sister.

  ‘Then find out,’ Tab urged. ‘I’m not suggesting you propose to the woman—but if you enjoy her company, then make the time to get to know her better, take things slowly and if something more than friendship develops, well, that’s a bonus.’

  ‘What about Ned?’

  ‘What about him?’ She shrugged. ‘It’s obvious he likes Meg almost as much as you do.’

  ‘That’s exactly what worries me. Where will it leave him if he gets attached to her and things don’t work out? I don’t want to get his hopes up.’

  ‘Then don’t.’ As usual Tab was the voice of reason. ‘Get to know her separately to Ned as well and then when he’s around make sure you keep things purely platonic until you’re certain they’re going places—that way it’s only your heart on the line. And Meg’s. But you two are both adults and sometimes you have to take risks to reap rewards.’

  She yawned and put down her knitting. ‘All this serious talk is making me tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. Unless there’s anything else you need to get off your chest?’

  He shook his head and lifted his beer to his mouth but found it empty. It was only just after nine pm but that was practically midnight to a dairy farmer, so instead of another drink he opted for bed as well.

  ‘Thanks, Tab,’ he said as they both pushed themselves out of their seats. ‘I appreciate the chat.’

  ‘No worries.’ She closed the gap between them and hugged him hard. ‘That’s what little sisters are for. You can thank me by making me best man at your wedding.’

  He laughed as she pulled away and picked up her knitting. ‘It’s a deal, although I think you might be getting a little ahead of things.’

  He still wasn’t sure whether he was ready, or had enough courage, to even ask Meg on a first date, never mind to get down on bended knee.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunday morning after taking Cane for a run and finishing her chores, Megan forwent her crocheting and book in favour of a stroll down the road to visit Archie. Ever since Lawson had suggested checking out the Rose Hill Historical Society, it had been pretty much all she could think about—that and Lawson Cooper-Jones himself. Last night it hadn’t only been the noises downstairs keeping her awake; her imagination had been far too active with thoughts of Lawson’s bare chest to let her sleep. Logically she told herself it was a good thing he hadn’t made arrangements for them to catch up again, but she couldn’t help wishing he had.

  She sighed as she clipped Cane’s leash onto his collar, closed the front door behind them and started down the path towards the service station, carrying a meat pie she’d baked for Archie’s lunch. It was so still and quiet in Rose Hill but as she got closer to his place she could hear the clucking of his chickens and the occasional crow of his rooster, which didn’t appear to have any sense of time.

  ‘Hello,’ she called, as she let herself in through the side gate. Archie had told her to do this after her second visit as he said sometimes he got so enthralled in his painting he wouldn’t notice if the petrol pumps exploded.

  Buster met her and Cane with a half-hearted bark and then led them towards the back door like some kind of furry butler.

  ‘Hello, luv,’ Archie said, appearing in the doorway. His gaze dropped to the pie dish she was carrying. ‘Geez, that smells good. You truly spoil me, you do.’

  She smiled as she handed it to him. ‘It’s my pleasure, but I might have an ulterior motive today. I’ve come to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Is that right?’ He hit her with his weathered grin and then stepped aside to let her into his house. ‘Need more dog-sitting?’

  ‘Not this time.’ She chuckled. ‘I was wondering, is the old historical society building one of the ones you look after?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s in the original post office. Why?’

  ‘I’m wanting to do a little research on my house and someone suggested I might find the information I’m looking for there.’

  ‘What exactly are you looking for?’

  She got the feeling Archie wasn’t the type to believe in the supernatural but she told him anyway. ‘I think there’s a ghost in my building and I’d like to find some more information about her.’

  As suspected, he found this highly entertaining.

  ‘Well?’ she said when he’d finally regained his composure. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

  ‘If you want to waste your time investigating the paranormal, then go ahead.’ He crossed over to his kitchen where bunches of keys hung on a row of nails and plucked one off. ‘But I gotta warn ya, that building is full of old junk. The shire wouldn’t let me turf any of it—now everything is covered in a layer of dust and I shudder to think how many spiders have moved in.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of a little dirt and I can handle spiders,’ she said, taking the key he offered. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No worries. Do ya want me to keep Cane for ya while you’re sniffing around there?’

  ‘Oh, that would be great. Are you sure it’s no trouble?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He gestured behind him. ‘All I’m doing is a little painting.’

  Megan looked over in the direction of his easel. ‘Can I have a look?’

  ‘Sure. Be my guest.’

  ‘This is amazing,’ she said a few moments later as she gazed down at a painting of Buster. ‘It’s almost like a photo. You have a real talent. Do you sell your work anywhere?’

  He laughed as if she’d just asked if he sold his paintings in outer space. ‘They’re nothing special. Who’d wanna pay to have my mess hanging on their wall?’ Still, the colour in his cheeks gave away the fact he was tickled by the idea.

  ‘I’d buy one,’ she said.

  He laughed again and gestured to a pile of canvases leaning against one wall, which reminded her a little of her mountain of finished tea-cosies. ‘Sweetheart, you can have as many as you like.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you. Once I’ve got my house ready to hang things, I’m going to take you up on that offer. But I insist on payi
ng you.’

  He raised one bushy eyebrow. ‘In that case, how much do I owe you for this pie?’

  She ignored that comment—a pie and a painting were hardly the same thing—and held up the key. ‘Thanks for this. If you’re sure you don’t mind looking after Cane, I’ll go get started.’

  Archie dipped his head. ‘You have fun and don’t get bitten by any nasty arachnids.’

  Megan shuddered, and took a detour via her place to get some insect spray. She may have said she could handle spiders, but by handle, she meant covering herself in a biohazard suit and nuking a five-kilometre radius with spray.

  Then, can in hand, she headed up the three steps of the tiny colonial-era building that had been the original Rose Hill post office, replaced in the late sixties by another building, which also now stood empty. When she finally managed to shove open the stiff door, a terrible smell hit her so hard she took a step backwards. She screwed up her nose at the thought of how many dead rodents could be decaying in there—never mind live ones. She should have bought air-freshener as well as insect spray.

  Covering her nose, she ventured into the building and felt around for the light switch. Heavy black blinds covered the windows, but before she opened them she wanted to make sure there weren’t any spider webs in her way. Bingo. She flicked the switch but, although it made a noise, no light was forthcoming.

  ‘Dammit.’

  Holding her breath and her arm out in front of her to alert her to any cobwebs, she crossed over to the first window, making sure not to step on any of the piles of old papers on the floor. She tugged the first blind and it shot up. The sun blinded her as it flooded into the room and the dust that had been settled for goodness knew how long puffed up in her face. She coughed and spluttered and then turned around.

  ‘Oh. My. God.’ She almost forgot about the smell, the dust and the possibility of spiders as she surveyed the scene.

  Archie hadn’t been kidding—the small building was jam-packed with stuff. There were tables in the middle of the room with papers scattered across them as if someone had finished working for the day and never returned. Bookshelves lined one wall with old books and various other historical relics. Faded black and white photos covered the other walls, but there were also archive boxes and piles of what looked like old newspapers all across the floor.