Along Country Roads

by Mandy Magro

  The morning sun spilled golden light over the garden, brightly coloured butterflies flittered about and a dragonfly was lightly tapping its wings against the glass of the kitchen window. Everywhere she looked life was thriving thanks to the coastal rainfall, and it was breathtaking. Pulling her gaze from the scenic valley views out the leadlight-framed window, Matilda plucked the old-fashioned whistling kettle from the gas stovetop and poured the boiling water into her cup. She’d had a playful dig at Ryan about his choice of an antique kettle over a modern one while he’d been making them both a hot chocolate last night and he’d casually said that he preferred things with character. She had to agree. Doing it tough with her mum, preloved bric-a-brac had furnished their housing commission home. Some people liked to call it ‘retro’, but she liked to think of pre-loved bits and pieces as items with a history, which made them all the more interesting. There was something gratifying about giving an old object a new lease on life, and Ryan had done that with a few odds and ends around the cottage, including a clawfoot bathtub that took pride of place in the oversized bathroom. As she’d stood staring at it last night he’d proudly explained he’d saved it from the rubbish tip and recoated it.

  His breakfast bikkies finished with the speed of lightning, Huckleberry came and sat at her feet. His tail was wagging so hard his bum was wiggling and he couldn’t keep his front paws still, making it crystal clear he was as happy as she was with his new surroundings. She leant over and gave his head a scratch, chuckling at his animation before turning her attention back to the kitchen bench. Her eyes travelled over the note Ryan had left for her, and she couldn’t help the smile that claimed her lips as she reread it. It was so damn cute.

  Popped over to Mum’s this morning to grab some fodder for Huck, hope he likes beef and liver. Yuck! Help yourself to what food is in the fridge—which at the moment isn’t much—although I did snag some fresh bum nuts from Mum’s chook pen and a few things from her fridge. Score! I need to do a run to the grocery store. Hope you had a good sleep. Catch you soon. Ryan.

  In the short time she had known him, Ryan Hunter was succeeding in blowing to shreds her theory that all men were bastards. Why did he have to be so likeable? Or was something just around the corner that would prove otherwise? With her trust in humankind eroded, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was. Pouring in the milk and then stirring some honey into her coffee, she dropped the spoon into the sink already filled with soapy water and gave it a rinse. The water was cold so she gathered Ryan had left a while ago for a horse ride. Before she had headed off to bed he’d invited her to join him early in the morning, but while she would have loved to she had gratefully declined, thinking it would be nice for him to have some time to himself and for her to have some time to potter about the cottage and get settled in.

  She was surprised she had been able to go back to sleep after her nightmare, let alone sleep in until nine, and the extra rest had done her the world of good. With her body and mind re-energised she was thinking more clearly. Although she was still worried she might have accidentally killed Troy, common logic told her she hadn’t. Surely she would have seen or heard something on the news yesterday if that was the case? At some ungodly hour this morning guilt had torn at her and she’d considered going to the police, so she didn’t have to burden herself with what ifs and maybes anymore. Then she realised they would go to Troy, and he would find out where she was and come after her. She wasn’t prepared to take that risk or put Ryan’s life in danger, for that matter. Lord knew what Troy would try to do if he knew she was shacked up with another bloke, as innocent as it was. He would lose his mind even more than he already had.

  Not wanting these thoughts to consume her, Matilda focused her energy outward to her surroundings. Leaning on the well-worn timber bench that matched the timber floorboards, she smiled as she noticed the tea towel hung neatly on the oven door, the chairs all pushed in at the six-seater dining table and the pairs of boots beside the back door neatly aligned. The rest of the cottage was the same—tidy, simple, comfortable and unpretentious. Being a clean freak herself, it was a relief to finally be living with someone who was clearly the same. The boys at the station had been absolute grots and Troy had been the worst of them. A man who took pride in his home was such a breath of fresh air. This was one more thing she could find attractive about the charismatic Ryan Hunter, if she let herself.

  Which she wasn’t going to do. End of story.

  Walking out of the kitchen and through the cosy lounge room with its welcoming couches and mismatched cushions, flat-screen television and open fireplace, Matilda stopped to check out Ryan’s overstuffed bookcase, believing you could learn a lot about a person by seeing what they read. Off the bat she was awestruck by the number of books. There were quite a few hardcovers on cattle farming mixed in with a few Dean Koontz novels, and even two rural romance novels—she gathered they belonged to his cheating ex. She noted she hadn’t read one of them and would have to rectify that sometime. There were also a few self-help books on positive thinking, a couple of cookbooks and a book on how to overcome panic attacks and general anxiety. This one piqued her curiosity. Did Ryan have the same battles as she did with anxiety, or was it someone close to him? She wasn’t going to ask as most people found it hard to admit they wrestled with anxiety. Maybe when they became less like acquaintances and more like mates she would broach the subject because if she could help him with it, she would. It was a terrible illness and people often shunned those who experienced it because they didn’t understand it. But given the right tools, panic attacks were something to never fear again.

  Deciding to head outside to take in the morning sunshine while she enjoyed her cuppa, Matilda made her way to the front door. Huckleberry plodded closely beside her as he had been all morning. She even had to succumb to him following her into the loo and then lying on the bathroom floor while she’d had her shower. Not that she was complaining, as it was comforting to have him by her side. Unlike some humans, dogs expected nothing in return for their love and companionship, and that was a trait to be revered.

  The flyscreen door squeaked as she stepped onto the veranda and raised her hand to shield the glare from her eyes. Wow. Just wow. Serenity was the very first thing she felt, then she noticed the stunning outlook of rolling green hills crisscrossed by white picket fences and the backdrop of lush green mountains. A few structures dotted the landscape, one was the shed Ryan had parked the truck in last night, and then there were stables. Apart from that, there wasn’t another building in sight.

  She could see the horses they drove by last night, minus the one Ryan would be riding. The bellowing of cattle carried across the paddocks, along with the distant drone of a tractor and she wondered if it was coming from Ryan’s parents’ property. Walking down the four front steps, she smiled when her feet hit the thick blanket of grass. She had waited so long for this feeling, had daydreamed about it for the past year. The last time she’d walked barefoot on the grass had been at her mother’s wake, while wandering aimlessly in the front garden so she could get away from all the sympathy and pitiful stares. With Shadow Crossing Station lacking a blade of it, this had been a long time coming.

  Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments, Matilda drew in a lungful of air before slowly blowing it away. Sitting down on the front lawn, she spread her boho-style skirt out around her, allowing as much skin as possible to touch the earth. She felt as though she needed grounding and what better way to do it than to connect with Mother Nature. Huckleberry sprawled out beside her as if doing the same. Then, rolling on his back, he stuck all four legs in the air and remained in that position as though sunbaking. Matilda smiled at his quirkiness. There was so much to love about him.

  Just beyond the front picket fence two ducks waddled past, quacking as if speaking to one another. They slowed to looked at her, then continued on their merry way. A sigh escaped her. What a relief it was to finally feel as though she was standing still instead of running scare
d. She wasn’t going to allow herself to fall into a false sense of security though, as nice as that would be, because she knew in her heart of hearts that Troy wouldn’t let her walk away so easily. If he found out where she was, everything would change in a heartbeat.

  The galloping of horse hooves pulled her attention to the left and there was Ryan, elbows in and wrists cocked as he held the reins, coming full pelt towards her. With the appaloosa skidding to a stop at the front gates of the cottage, he dismounted, flung the reins over the railing and then, after tipping the brim of his hat in greeting, ran his hands over his dark stubble before flashing her a knee-buckling smile.

  She was lucky she was already sitting because her legs felt weak with the sight of him.

  Huckleberry flipped over and dashed towards him, his tail wagging like the clappers. Ryan picked him up in one swoop and gave him a cuddle. Then, placing him back down, he walked towards her.

  ‘Hoody doodie there, cowboy.’ Matilda held her mug up. ‘Want me to make you a cuppa?’

  ‘I’d kill for one, thanks, Tilly. But I think I might have a quick run through the dip first.’

  Faded jeans encased his long legs perfectly and Matilda couldn’t help but notice the said jeans encased his well-rounded butt extremely well too. She felt her cheeks flush and prayed to God he didn’t notice. The sunlight behind him made it a little hard to see his face. ‘You might what?’

  He chuckled and shook his head. ‘Oh, sorry, I might have a wash. Old Tim here thought it would be fun to dunk me in the muddiest part of the dam, and to put it bluntly I stink to high hell.’ He walked up the pathway, peeling the mud-splattered jersey up and over his head.

  Matilda couldn’t help but regard his muscular chest sprinkled with a light dusting of fine hair, the addition of a huge lion tattoo only adding to his sexiness. It was then she spotted the arrow tattoo on the underside of his upper arm. How uncanny was it that they both had similar symbols? It made her feel connected to him.

  ‘After my shower I might make us some brekkie—if you haven’t had any yet,’ he added as he stopped in front of her.

  She quickly brought her gaze to where his eyes were hidden behind his dark sunglasses. ‘Oh, no, I haven’t had anything yet.’

  ‘Good, that means you’ll get to try my famous scrambled eggs.’

  ‘Famous, huh? That’s a big statement.’ The lilt in her voice hinted a challenge.

  ‘Aha, I’ll have you know people come from miles for my scrambled eggs.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Nope, but it sounded good when I said it.’ He grinned cheekily.

  The breeze shifted direction and the pong of putrid damn mud hit her nostrils. She pinched them closed. ‘Hey, you really do stink.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more … but no more than old Huckleberry did last night.’ He looked to the dog still eager at his feet. ‘Hey, buddy.’

  Huckleberry barked a short sharp reply and then ran around in circles.

  ‘On that note …’ He spun and continued on his short walk to the front steps. ‘I’ll see you both in the kitchen in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’

  Matilda watched him disappear through the front flyscreen door, her hands now unintentionally cupping her hot cheeks. He was so much man.

  Fifteen minutes later Ryan waltzed into the kitchen with the faint scent of soap lingering. Glancing up from the book she was reading, Matilda looked at him. His hair was still damp and he was shirtless. Again. Not that she was complaining. He was a nice distraction from her problems. ‘Feel better?’

  ‘Sure do. If I had the choice of a shower or a carton of beer, I’d choose the shower, hands down.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Righto, time to show you my culinary skills.’

  ‘Want a hand with anything?’

  ‘Nope, you’ll just get in the way.’

  ‘Oh geez, thanks a lot.’

  ‘Nah, seriously, you relax.’ Ryan fired up the front burner and plonked a frypan down, then lit the back one to boil the kettle. Grabbing a container of eggs from the fridge, he began cracking five of them into a bowl. ‘What are you reading?’

  Matilda was only half listening, finding herself far more intrigued with the water beading on his broad shoulders and running in rivulets down his strapping back until they disappeared down the low-slung waistband of his jeans.

  He spun to face her. ‘Earth to Tilly.’

  ‘Oh huh, sorry. I was miles away.’ She held the book up, revealing the front cover of a sweeping rural romance. ‘I’m reading one of your ex’s books. Well, I gather it’s hers.’

  He shook his head, grinning. ‘Nope, not Pippa’s.’

  ‘Is it yours?’ She couldn’t hide the shock from her face.

  ‘Uh huh.’

  The fact he didn’t even flinch made Matilda smile. ‘Wow, okay. Blokes don’t usually read romances.’

  ‘Well, it’s all mine, as is the other one on the bookshelf, and I loved both of them. Ain’t ashamed to say it either.’ Splashing in a bit of milk, he then took out a fork from the drawer and whipped the eggs into a frenzy. ‘I won’t tell you the ending but it threw me for an absolute sixer.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m already trying to figure out who the killer is.’ She made note of the page she was up to then shut the cover. ‘You read much?’

  ‘Whenever I can. It’s my way of shutting off from the world for a while. The hammock out the front is a good spot for it—you should try it out.’ Chucking some butter into the pan, it sizzled for a few seconds before Ryan tipped the eggs in and then gave them a gentle stir with a wooden spoon. ‘I warn you, though, it’s a potential sleep hazard. Many times I’ve gone to read a book out there and woken up hours later.’

  ‘I was eyeing the hammock off when we pulled in last night, and thinking exactly that.’ She watched him pick the pan up and swirl the eggs around like a pro. Not used to being served, she was itching to get up and help. ‘Can I make some toast or something? I feel bad sitting here.’

  ‘No, I got it all covered, so try and sit back and enjoy being fussed over a little.’ Ryan wiped his hands on the tea towel tucked into his jeans belt loop, then took out a loaf of bread from the freezer. Pulling two bits of the bread apart he popped them into the toaster. ‘Would you like another cuppa?’

  ‘That’d be nice, thanks.’ Matilda rested her chin on her clasped hands. She could get used to this very easily. It was dangerous territory.

  He waved the wooden spoon in her direction. ‘Let me guess. White with two?’

  ‘Close … I’d prefer honey over sugar,’ she said with a smile from ear to ear. A man with the kitchen under complete control—she’d never seen anything like it. ‘So did you enjoy your ride this morning?’

  ‘Sure did. I’m going to go for another one once brekkie settles. Want to join me this time?’

  She didn’t need to think about it. ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Great, I’ll saddle Faith Hill up for you.’

  Matilda grinned at the name. ‘Let me guess, is that the Palomino one?’

  ‘Yep, and she’s a beauty to ride. Make sure you pack your swimmers, if you have some. We’ll stop off at the top dam for a dunk on our way back.’

  ‘If that’s the stinky dam Tim submerged you in, no thank you.’

  Ryan’s laughter filled the kitchen nicely. ‘No, the top dam is beautiful.’

  Whipping the frypan off the stove at the exact time the toast popped up, Ryan slathered butter on both pieces. That done, he slid over to the table, pinched Matilda’s cup from in front of her, and in less than a minute he was back with two steaming cups of coffee, followed by scrambled eggs on toast for the pair of them, cutlery, salt and pepper and a bottle of something saucy looking. Plonking everything down he sat to the left of her. Matilda picked the bottle up and turned it around, trying to work out what it was.

  ‘It’s homemade tomato sauce. Much better than the crap they sell at the supermarket with all those rotten maggot-infested tomatoes in it.’

&nb
sp; Matilda grimaced. ‘Oh, yuck. You’re making that up.’

  ‘No way, true story. I’ve been to a factory that makes tomato sauce and I almost died when I saw what went through the mincer. Give me home grown or homemade anything over shop bought any day.’ Ryan pointed at the jar with his fork. ‘That’s my mum’s very own secret recipe, passed down through five generations. I’m betting you’ll never have tasted anything like it.’

  Twisting the lid off Matilda sniffed it and her mouth instantly watered. ‘It smells divine.’

  ‘Tastes even better.’

  Tipping some onto her fingertip Matilda then licked it off. ‘Yum, you’re not wrong. She should sell this stuff.’

  ‘Doubt she’d be able to keep up with the demand,’ Ryan said, grinning.

  Matilda tipped it on her scrambled eggs then passed the bottle to Ryan. She could barely see his eggs for sauce. ‘So that’s why your scrambled eggs are so famous—it’s actually your mum’s tomato sauce that makes them so spesh.’

  ‘Spot on.’ Ryan put his finger to his lips. ‘But, shhhh, don’t tell anyone. I’ll lose my Michelin star.’

  Matilda lost it then and, along with Ryan, laughed until her sides ached. She adored the sound of his deep throaty chuckle filling the kitchen and the feeling of genuine joy within her—it had been a long time coming. If only things could stay this way, seemingly so easy and perfect, but she knew from years of hardship that life was never so simple.

  CHAPTER

  6

  The cloudless blue sky seemed to stretch on forever, as did the rolling green landscape that was the heart and soul of Heartsong. The singsong of birds flittering from tree to tree and hopping amongst the plants and freshly cut grass of the front lawn added to the relaxing atmosphere. The sun’s golden rays stretched across the weatherworn timber of the front verandah, warming Matilda’s bare legs that were lazily slung over the side of the hammock. She turned the page of her book, fighting to keep her eyes open. The gentle motion of the hammock swinging in the breeze was calming, like a mother gently rocking her newborn. With Huckleberry nestled in with her, she had no room to stretch out longways, not that she minded. She loved knowing that her pooch didn’t want to leave her side.