by Sasha Wasley
It was startling. And lovely.
Startlingly lovely.
Right. Unpacking. Cleaning.
Free stacked dishes in a sink full of soapy water while she munched breakfast cereal. She peered out the window at the long kikuyu grass growing in the red dirt of her backyard. Where was Max? She hadn’t seen him since she’d let him out after breakfast. She went into the studio to collect her paintbrushes so she could wash them, too – and noticed a fix required on her Talbot Gorge painting. Oh good Lord. How had she missed that before? She put down her bowl, opened her palette and seized a brush. She dabbed paint and it looked better almost immediately. This would only take five minutes.
A knock at her front door snapped her out of it. Free stretched and put down the brush. Maybe it was the postie. Hopefully not Beth, come to criticise and take up the time she needed to clean. She opened the door to Finn, sans uniform, a Powderfinger T-shirt stretched across his muscular body.
‘Oh, hi!’ She made a valiant effort not to stare at his chest. ‘You’re early!’
‘Am I?’ He checked his phone. ‘Twelve-thirty?’
Free gaped at him. ‘Twelve-thirty – what?’ She grabbed his phone to verify and groaned. ‘Finn, I’m so sorry. I was going to tidy up but I got caught up with my stupid painting.’
She cursed herself, but Finn brightened. ‘The gorge painting? Can I see?’
She nodded and led him through her appalling mess, apologising all the way. Finn just laughed.
‘Seriously, I don’t care. I’m not here to see how tidy you keep your house.’
Free was silenced. They stopped in front of her painting and Finn locked his gaze on the canvas.
‘Wow. Wow.’ He leaned in close to look at it. ‘Free, it’s incredible.’ He turned and those warm eyes shone into hers. ‘You’re incredible.’
The wave of emotion that went through her almost made her catch her breath. She had to check in with her brain to make sure this was really happening – yes, Finn meant it. He believed what he’d just said and, in that moment, she believed him. Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her arm. But he stopped before he touched her and pulled his hand back, watching her with an uncertain frown.
‘Leaky eyes, remember?’ she said, trying to laugh. ‘Lunch,’ she added, striding towards the kitchen to conceal the unsteadiness in her legs.
She yanked open the fridge and Finn found himself a seat at her round wooden table. He was asking about work and her painting but Free barely heard him because she was coming to a dreadful realisation that she had nothing to give him for lunch. Flavia’s pesto involved fresh basil and pine nuts, olive oil and parmesan cheese . . . and the only thing she had on that list was the cheese.
‘Hey, would you rather go out somewhere for lunch?’ she interrupted Finn. ‘A café or something? My shout.’
‘No, I like it here. Please stop worrying about how tidy your house is, Free!’
‘Oh, okay.’ She gave him a weak smile. ‘Well, do you mind waiting ten minutes while I nip out and get some stuff from the shop, then?’
He comprehended. ‘You’re short on supplies? I’ve got food at my place. What do you need?’
She checked the fridge again, fighting a blush. ‘It depends what you want. Sandwiches? I’ve got plenty of jam and vegemite. But bread is optional.’ A smile started at the corner of Finn’s mouth and she groaned. ‘Yes, I know. I’ve invited you around for lunch and now I’ve got nothing to give you. Lame.’
He couldn’t hold in a laugh. ‘Wait here. I’ll get some things.’
Finn was back a minute later with fresh bread, ham, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce. Free accepted them gratefully and constructed sandwiches while they chatted about work. She tried to put the thought of how badly she’d managed lunch out of her head. He doesn’t care. He’s not judging.
‘So, your sister’s wedding,’ he said as they ate. ‘It’s at the Forrests’ station, yeah?’
Free picked ham off her plate. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Briggsy’s asked me to drive him and Kate there, and home afterwards. They want to have a few drinks but they’ve got no transport.’
‘Ah, right. You’re always ferrying Briggsy around, it seems.’
‘Not normally. He’s not a big drinker but this is his best mate, so I guess the buck’s night and the wedding day are special occasions for the sarge.’
Free nodded. ‘It’s a pretty low-key event, as weddings go. Willow wouldn’t have it any other way. I think Tom’s done well just to get her to agree to wear a dress and stop managing cattle for a day.’
Finn tipped his head. ‘Paterson Downs is one of the big local beef producers, right? But you’re not interested in farming life?’
‘God, no. I hardly know one end of a cow from the other. Willow’s the expert, and that’s just how Beth and I like it.’
‘Did you like living on a station?’
Free nodded with energy. ‘I loved it, but I especially love living in the region. This place – the Kimberley – is just . . .’ Words failed her but Finn’s expression showed he understood. ‘I’m not a farmer, though. I couldn’t do what Willow’s doing.’
‘It’d be a hard life, cattle farming,’ he agreed.
‘Willow’s doing amazing things with Paterson Downs. She’s taking it to organic, did you know? She and Tom. She’s the most incredible environmentalist.’
‘And you are too, right? You’re against the diversion dam.’
What kind of super detective was this guy? ‘How did you know that?’
Finn gave a little shrug. ‘Uh, not sure. Must’ve heard it somewhere.’
‘Yes, I’m against the dam. The Herne runs alongside our property, so the dam project is significant for my family.’
‘You spent a bit of time by the river growing up, I guess?’
‘Yeah. I love that river. It means a lot to me. I can’t quite explain it. And the dam is potentially disastrous for the river, not to mention the land clearing for farming, and the impact on our water quality. Nutrients, algae, salinity . . .’ Free stopped herself. ‘Ugh, sorry. I sound like a pamphlet. Blame my sister.’
He smiled. ‘No, it’s interesting. It gives me a context for the protests against the project. I’m learning more and more about the diversion dam every day. It’s a worry.’
She relaxed. ‘You should come along to one of the demonstrations or info sessions. There’s still an opportunity to stop the work so more environmental research can happen.’ Free paused. ‘Are you allowed to go to rallies, being a cop?’
‘Yes, of course. Just not in uniform or while on duty.’
‘Oh, good!’ She sipped her water. ‘The more people who get involved, the better.’
‘You must have a real connection to the land, being a farm girl.’
She laughed. ‘I’m not a shining example of a farm girl, but living on a station is a unique experience! I wish I could show you Paterson Downs. Have you ever stayed on a cattle station?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, wow, you’ve got to try it,’ Free said. ‘It’s amazing. You could come stay some time, if you like, to get a genuine feel for station life.’
She had asked casually but suddenly she liked the idea of showing him around her home. She was proud of Patersons, and would love to see his response to the vast property and its busy homestead. She had the feeling he’d love it. It would allow her to get to know him better, too – much better. He must understand, from this invitation, that she was interested in him. Free waited breathlessly, trying to gauge his reaction.
Finn focused on his sandwich. ‘Sounds like a great experience.’
His tone could not have been more noncommittal, and Free cringed inwardly.
‘Anyway.’ She fought through the humiliation. ‘Willow’s wedding is at Quintilla rather than Patersons because they’re better set up for entertaining. It’s going to be a casual kind of thing, cater
ed by the station kitchens, only a few people from town coming. Beth and I will go home on the Friday to have one last night with Willow before she becomes a missus. Not that she’ll actually be a missus,’ she recollected. ‘She’ll always be Ms Willow Paterson, unless she gets a doctorate and then she’ll be Dr Paterson, just like Beth . . .’ She trailed off, aware she was digging herself into a hole of incoherent ramblings.
Finn remained fixated on his sandwich. ‘Did you start that picture of Talbot Gorge while you were out there – at the gorge, I mean?’
Now he was trying to change the subject. This couldn’t be worse.
Free played along. ‘En plein air? No. I took photos and then used one as a reference.’ She watched Finn sadly. Clearly, she had come on too strong. Maybe . . . Free had a sudden thought. ‘Oh! Have you recently been through a bad break-up?’ she asked.
Finn choked on his mouthful of food and was obliged to take a drink of water.
‘Why do you ask?’ he managed at last.
‘Just a vibe.’
Finn had gone red in the face, although that might just have been from the choking. Free examined him, her own lunch forgotten.
He cleared his throat. ‘I split up with my ex-girlfriend back in October.’
Aha! ‘So, just before you left to come live in Mount Clair?’ Free asked. ‘Makes sense. Long-distance relationships suck. It must have been painful, though.’
‘No, it wasn’t quite like that . . .’ Finn trailed off, but because she was still waiting, he resumed. ‘It was kind of messy. Elyse – well, it wasn’t about the long-distance thing.’
‘What was it about?’
He toyed with a fork. ‘I haven’t really talked to anyone about this.’ Free nodded, still waiting, and Finn gave an unexpected laugh. ‘You’re not going to let me off the hook, are you?’
She realised what he meant. ‘Oh, you don’t want to talk about it?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. But I will anyway.’ Finn settled his gaze on hers. ‘Elyse and I met about a year ago. We got introduced by a mutual acquaintance. She was popular; loads of friends. Nice-looking, I guess.’
‘Can I see her?’ Free interrupted.
‘Huh?’
‘Have you got a photo or something?’
Finn’s brow creased. ‘You want to see a picture of Elyse?’
‘I’m visual. I need to get a picture of anyone I’m talking about. I’ve seen the photos of your family, so I know who you mean when you talk about them. It would be good to see a photo of Elyse too.’
He shrugged and unlocked his phone. He scrolled back through his camera roll – a long way back – until he found a photo to show her.
‘This was at an outdoor concert last year, just before we split.’
Free took the phone and inspected the picture. It was a selfie of Finn and Elyse, sitting on a picnic blanket with crowds of people on the rolling green lawn behind them. She zoomed in on their faces, first Elyse, who had dead-straight honey-brown hair and flawless makeup, her lips held just right to maximise the height of her cheekbones and give her big, smoky eyes.
‘She’s extremely beautiful, but she looks a little disconnected from you,’ Free commented. She switched her attention to the five-month-old image of Finn and softened inside. ‘Maybe I’m just comparing her to you, though. You have such a gorgeous, genuine smile.’
Free slid his phone back across the table and discovered Finn staring at her with his mouth slightly ajar. Ack, had she offended him? He recovered himself, red-cheeked once more.
‘Uh, thanks. Anyway, Elyse was in HR. She had a good job with a big company in the CBD, but she knew I was planning to go country at least for a while when I finished my probation. I applied for a couple of positions, including one in Mount Clair.’
Free nodded. Elyse had baulked at the distance when Finn took the job in Mount Clair, she guessed. The girl didn’t want a part-time relationship. Or maybe she had wanted to come up to the Kimberley with Finn, and he hadn’t been able to live with the idea of cutting her career aspirations short —
‘Then a mate took me out for a beer and let me know she was cheating on me with a friend.’
‘What?’ Free gasped. ‘Oh no. No way. How could she? Are you sure it was true?’ She snatched the phone off him and peered at Elyse again. Oh – yes. It was obvious now that Free knew the truth. The girl was cold and narcissistic.
Free was outraged. ‘Why the hell would she cheat on you? You’re so kind and warm-hearted. You’d never neglect a girlfriend – you’re not capable of neglecting anyone. You just need to look into my eyes and I can see how giving you are. Plus, you’re hot! I mean, look at you. Big, hot and muscly. And you have the most interesting eyes I think I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine ever getting tired of looking into them.’ Free shook her head, increasingly annoyed with this Elyse girl. ‘Was she nuts? She must have been insecure or something, to need extra male attention. You didn’t deserve that.’
Finn’s gaze locked on hers. His eyes were full of something resembling gratitude – and longing. Her skin tingled in response to it and, despite his rejection just minutes earlier, Free knew with utter conviction that he wanted her. Felt something. She pushed his phone back towards him, her pulse racing. The honesty between them was like a hot-coal walk – agonising but exhilarating. She wanted it to end, and yet never wanted it to end.
It ended.
‘You’re right.’ Finn got to his feet. ‘It hurt like hell and no-one deserves that. Free, thank you for lunch, but I’d better let you get on with your day.’
She jumped up. ‘Oh. Okay.’
Finn pocketed his phone, took his plate into the kitchen and emptied the scraps into the bin before placing his plate on the sink. She followed him to the front door, bewildered. Was I too pushy?
Finn turned to face her. ‘Thanks again.’
Free nodded. Finn hovered for a moment. Maybe he could see the hurt in her expression.
‘You’re . . .’ Finn glanced away and back to her face. ‘You’re really sweet.’
He took off down her steps and up his, then through his front door without looking back. Free closed her own door and wandered back to the table, staring at Finn’s spot, crumb-free and cleared of dishes.
Such a good guest.
Such a confusing man.
The next time Free got a lunchbreak with both Jay and Aidan, she told them that Tia had contributed an idea for the tile wall.
Jay interrupted before she’d even heard the idea, her face bright with pleasure. ‘It’s so good to see Tia responding to you like this, Free. She’s always been such a mouse. It’s obvious you’ve clicked with her as a mentor, and hopefully that will keep drawing her out of her shell the more the semester goes on.’ Jay scooped some chickpea and couscous salad onto her fork. ‘Tia’s a real innovator. She has huge dedication to the skills-acquisition side of things, too – not to mention bucketloads of talent.’
Free nodded in agreement. ‘So, her concept is this. Cultural heritage. A no-bullshit, honest story of the multicultural history of Mount Clair and the Kimberley more generally.’
‘Sounds very right-on,’ Aidan said, making a wry face.
Free gazed at him in dismay. ‘Oh no – I don’t want it to be like that. Not some empty statement about diversity. I was thinking it could be a real, genuine acknowledgement – true stories of the area’s history. No whitewashing. It might not always be pretty, but the truth has its own beauty, you know?’
His eyebrows crept up. ‘True stories? Like?’
Huge question. Free waved her arms around, trying to express herself. ‘Like, stories of the traditional owners, colonisation, settlement, farming, immigration, asylum seekers, mixed ancestry, the subjugation of certain groups, languages, adaptation . . .’ She paused for breath. ‘Tia’s grandfather, he was a Japanese pearler in Broome, and Cameron’s great-grandmother was a Jamadji domestic servant —’
‘Sounds like a left-wing protest,’ Aidan said with that
same tight smile. ‘Very topical but kind of dull and depressing, like so many earnest, misguided public artworks.’
She drew back, smarting over his negativity. But before Free could answer, Jay swallowed her mouthful and burst out, ‘I love it! Did the kids honestly come up with it themselves?’
‘Absolutely.’ Free recounted the conversation she’d had with the kids in her after-school session.
Jay shook her head, impressed. ‘Could you write this down for me, Free?’ she asked. ‘Scope it up? I’d like to take it to the principal, and if he likes it we can send it on to the committee.’
‘I’m not sure the Year Tens will be on board,’ said Aidan. ‘They’ve been getting quite excited about the River of Life idea.’
‘I’ll run it by them on Monday,’ said Jay. ‘I think if it’s presented to them properly, they’ll like it too. After all, every single kid can contribute something of themselves to this.’ There was something cool in Jay’s manner to Aidan. The department head paused, rubbing her chin. ‘We should think up a good name. Diversity Wall? Unity in Diversity?’
Free instantly disliked both of these suggestions. ‘My sisters are good with words. I’m seeing them this weekend. I might ask them for some ideas for a title, and then I’ll put them in the scope for you to consider.’
Jay agreed and went to get a cup of tea. Aidan ate his Vietnamese rice paper rolls in disgruntled silence. Awkward. Free picked at her extremely boring Vegemite sandwich and tried to think of a way to appease him.
‘Um, maybe the River of Life concept could be incorporated, Aidan. After all, the agricultural history of Mount Clair is a big part —’
‘Oh, let’s not sully your concept by trying to blend it with another.’ He gave her one of his patented tight-cheeked smiles. ‘I’m not fazed in the least.’
His body language said the opposite to his words. Free wasn’t sure which to trust. Aidan flicked a gaze from her face down to her chest and Free froze. Had she really seen that?
