by Jessica Kate
Kimberly eased her thumb back onto the four-wheeler’s accelerator. It surged beneath her. She still wasn’t great at controlling the speed.
“Careful of the fence,” Jules called out after her. “It’s electric.”
She managed the incline of the wall okay and crept along the top of it—barely as wide as the four-wheeler—in second gear. She glanced across the water to her right. It sure looked idyllic with that giant eucalyptus tree next to the water. And was that—she zeroed in on a flicker of movement behind the tree—a kangaroo? She released the accelerator and just let the vehicle roll. The faun-colored marsupial bounced toward the fence and hopped over it with ease. Kimberly’s eyes tracked its progress as it bounced across the next field with impressive speed.
Zap.
Something punched her knee, surged through her body, and zapped her left thumb where it touched the four-wheeler’s metal handlebars. Then again. She jerked away, turning the handlebars as her gaze landed on something brown and twisty in the grass. Was that a—“Snake!” She squealed and shoved her right thumb forward on the accelerator. The four-wheeler leapt away from the electric fence and veered right, down the bank. Kimberly clung to the handlebars as the vehicle gave a sickening lurch and then—
Splash.
Water, cool and murky, enveloped her. She pushed away from the four-wheeler, gave two strong kicks, and broke the surface.
“Kim! Kim, are you alright?” Jules’s words came from beyond Kimberly’s line of sight, past the north bank.
Kimberly blinked the water from her eyes and treaded water. Holy smokes. She’d just crashed the four-wheeler into the water.
Sam was going to kill her. If the snake didn’t first.
Jules’s head popped over the edge of the bank.
“Snake!” Kimberly waved and pointed with one arm as the other kept her afloat.
Jules—the madwoman—went toward the reptile. Stopped. Threw her head back and laughed. “Stick!”
Kill me now.
Kimberly sank in the water till only her eyes were visible. Could she have made a stupider mistake? And with such an expensive piece of equipment?
After a moment during which she contemplated never leaving the confines of the water, she swam toward Jules and clambered up onto land, her hands and feet sinking into soft mud, leaves, and reeds as she did so. Yuck. Hopefully that leech story wouldn’t repeat itself. “I am so sorry, Jules. So, so sorry.”
“But are you alright?”
Kimberly waved off her concern, face burning with mortification despite the cool water. “I’m fine.” And she was. If only she could convince her thrashing heart that it was true. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
Jules surveyed the bubbles coming up from the trashed four-wheeler. “Sam can get it out with the tractor.”
Kimberly smeared the coarse mud from her palms onto her sodden shorts, dread tightening her throat. “Can you call him?”
Jules shook her head. “No reception out here. You’ll have to walk back and bring Sam, the tractor, and the ute.”
Kimberly looked back the way they’d come. The house was a couple of miles away. “I’ll jog and be back as fast as I can.”
Jules offered an encouraging smile. “I’ll be here. Actually I’ll be under the tree.” She pointed toward the only shade in the field, that towering eucalyptus, and hobbled in that direction.
Kimberly stood and inspected herself. Adrenaline still whipped her pulse into a frenzy, and tears lurked in her ducts. She sucked in deep breaths and recalled her mother’s voice. Crying is irrational.
Water ran in rivulets down her entire body, and mud clung to her hands and legs. She took a step, and her boot—borrowed from Jules—squelched. She looked back up at the house. At least two miles, with a jet-lagged body and wet shoes.
And waiting at the end, an angry Sam.
Oh joy.
Chapter 9
Sam wasn’t at the house.
A trickle of sweat ran down Kimberly’s temple as she jogged from the home to the sheds. The truck was still here, so he couldn’t have left the property. She scratched her head, and her already sunburned scalp stung. Mosquito bites on her ankle itched. The mud on her skin cracked as she moved. And this was still the end of November—not even official summer yet. No wonder so many Australians rejected the rural stereotype and elected to live at the coast.
Thud-thud.
The sound of a rhythmic beating came from a tin shed next to what might have been the dairy. She veered toward the three-sided structure with farm machinery spilling out of the open fourth side. “Sam!”
“Over here.” He appeared from behind a tractor, sweaty and face as red as her favorite hot peppers. One look at her and he sprinted in her direction. “What’s wrong? Where’s Jules?” He stripped boxing gloves from his hands as he ran—she must’ve interrupted a workout.
An imp awoke in the back of her brain. Shame to have missed the spectacle.
Where had that thought come from? She rested her hands on her knees and focused on sucking in air. Must be a side effect of oxygen deprivation. She really shouldn’t have skipped those gym sessions over the past few months.
Sam reached her within the span of two breaths, and Kimberly wheezed out the story, along with about a thousand apologies and assurances that both she and Jules were fine. The relief on his face was chased by a very different emotion. He ran his hands through his hair.
“Which side of the turkey’s nest?” The way he ground the words out reinforced the ones shouting through her mind: You’re meant to be here solving problems, not throwing four-wheelers into dams.
She swallowed down any reaction and sketched out the exact spot in the dirt. He nodded. “Keys for the ute are in it. I’ll meet you there.”
By the time he got the slow-moving tractor down to the turkey’s nest, Kimberly had already ferried Jules back to the house and returned. Quite a feat, considering she was driving a manual vehicle with its driver’s seat on the wrong side. Taxi service completed, she walked from the truck toward where Sam stood staring at the water, which lay still save the occasional bubble. She grimaced. What was down there?
“I thought you said you knew how to drive a bike.” The frustration in his tone snapped her out of her embarrassment and put her on the offensive. It hadn’t been intentional, and she’d flown across the world to help him. She needed at least another six hours of sleep before she could deal with this kind of attitude.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It wasn’t just the stick. Your fence also tried to electrocute me. Why’s it so close to the edge?”
Sam dropped the chain in his hand and grabbed the fence. There was a faint tick-tick-tick as the current zapped him. “Yeah, that’s real agony.”
Kimberly blinked. That had to hurt, didn’t it? Or maybe it was just the unexpectedness of it that she’d found so unpleasant. Either way, she couldn’t let him win. She raised an eyebrow at Sam and put her palm on the wire without hesitation.
Tick-tick-tick.
She kept her face a mask of indifference, but it took effort. The fence felt like a giant rubber band flicking her hand and sending its shock waves up her arm three times every second.
The corner of Sam’s mouth tipped up. “It hurts less if you touch the ground at the same time.”
She reached down, but he released the fence and grabbed her fingers. She jerked her gaze up, hand captured in both of his. Amusement danced behind his layer of irritation. “Don’t believe everything I say. It’d probably knock you off your feet.” He released her and turned to look at the water with a mixture of loathing and resignation, then grabbed the hem of his shirt and stripped it over his head.
Kimberly jolted like she’d been zapped again. Oh, mama, but that boy looked good. She blinked to redirect her traitorous eyes. We’re meant to be mad at him. “What are you doing?”
He picked up the chain. “Attaching this to the bike.”
With his hatred of swimming in dams? She di
dn’t need to give him yet another reason to be unhappy with her. Moving quickly, she kicked off her boots and socks and curled her toes against the sharp grasses and stones beneath her tender skin. “Uh-uh. I made the mess, I’ll clean it up. And I’ll pay for any repairs it needs.” She plucked the chain from his hand and jumped from the bank before he could protest.
Splash.
Kimberly popped up, though that was harder with the heavy chain in hand, and paddled over to where the four-wheeler had gone down. She blew out a breath to discourage the water from sneaking past her lips. Its murky brown quality was something she neither wanted to ponder nor consume. “Where do you want me to attach it?”
Sam’s brows pulled together. Didn’t he think she could do this? Did he want to get another leech on his you-know-what? She shuddered and prayed against a similar fate.
Sam crossed his arms across his bare chest. “Back axle. Loop it around and get the hook back through the chain.”
“Alrighty.” Kimberly eyed the spot where the four-wheeler should be, sucked in her deepest breath, and plunged down into the unknown.
* * *
Sam swatted at flies as the bubbles emerged from where Kim had disappeared beneath the water. She’d been down for at least twenty seconds now. He shifted on his feet. Kimberly’s brand of “help” so far in Australia had meant “constant irritation.” First with not being able to find her this morning, then the bike, and now . . .
Thirty-five seconds.
The bubbles stopped. He tensed. She’d pop up any second now. Capable Kim—there was no way she could be in any real trouble.
An image flashed before his mind’s eye of her limp form caught beneath a watery motorbike, hair fanned out in the water around her. Fear slithered a tentacle around his ribs. He checked his watch.
Sixty seconds.
Sam jumped into the water. He landed in close to the bank, despite the risk of leeches in the reeds. Who knew where Kim might pop up, and he could do some damage if he landed on top of her.
Two quick strokes cleared him of the reeds. He sucked in a breath and duck dived.
Thud.
Pain splintered through Sam’s skull. He surfaced, spluttering. As did Kim, hands on her forehead. She glared at him. “What are you doing?”
She’s okay.
He blew out a breath of relief and wiped the water from his eyes. “Are you pretending to be a fish? How long were you down there?”
“It was tricky to get the chain secured. I went to state for swimming when I was in high school. I was fine.”
Something brushed Sam’s leg. He flinched. “That would’ve been handy to know before you spent an eternity under water.”
“Do you act like this every time someone does you a favor?”
“Throwing my motorbike into the turkey’s nest and then scaring ten years off me is a favor? I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”
“It was an accident, and I offered to pay for it. You going to sulk forever?” She swam past him toward the bank.
He swiveled to follow, retort on his tongue. But a flash of brown on the bank caught his eye. He grabbed the back of Kim’s shirt.
She swatted at him. “What is wrong with you?”
“Snake.” He twisted his fist in her shirt and tugged her back, keeping his gaze on the spot, not a meter from their boots.
She froze, began to sink, and then kicked again. “For real?”
“It sure ain’t a stick.” He put on his best American accent for that one.
Her voice came out strangled. “Where?”
“On the bank. Right there.” He’d only caught a glimpse, but he’d seen enough eastern brown snakes—just “brown snakes” to most Aussies—to know exactly what it was. The second most venomous land snake in the world and as common in this part of the country as selfies on social media.
Kimberly’s body brushed his as she edged back. His skin goose-pimpled with awareness. “Can they swim?” She whispered.
He put himself between her and the reptile and dodged the question. “We’ll just climb out in a different spot.” He pointed to the adjacent edge of the turkey’s nest, the one that ended in a gradual rise rather than a steep bank. “Head that way.”
Kimberly beat him to the edge of the water, mainly because he was scanning for any other unwelcome reptiles. The mud on this side was deep, soft and sticky, and by the time he reached the edge of the water, it had swallowed Kimberly halfway up her thighs. She struggled in vain to get a leg free.
He grinned, still floating in the shallows. “Are you stuck?”
“No, I’m enjoying the scenery.” She threw her weight forward. The mud didn’t release her leg, but it did give her the wriggle room to fall forward. She put her hands out to break her fall. Splat. Mud splashed into her face.
He was pretty sure a little puff of steam emanated from her head. He snickered, then chuckled, then abandoned all restraint and let out a thigh-slapping laugh.
A ball of mud slapped him upside the face. He spluttered a moment, then dunked himself into the shallows and washed the worst of it off. “Not cool, Foster.”
She’d stopped struggling now and just stood there, arms folded. “You know what’s not cool? We made a deal, and I flew to the other side of the world to hold up my end. And so far I’ve been jet-lagged, shocked by the fence, wound up in this dam twice, scared by a snake, and now I’m stuck in the mud.” She scooped up another ball of muck. “And all you can do is be a jerk and laugh.” She threw the second handful.
Mud rained down upon Sam, and he ducked under the water to dodge it. “Cut that out.” He slithered forward, crocodile-style, spreading his body weight across the mud so he didn’t sink in. The slop was coarse and grainy, and bubbles of air escaped it as his hands sank in. Gross. What else lurked in the depths?
By the time he reached Kimberly, still crawling on his belly, she’d stopped her rapid-fire assault. She crossed her arms against her chest tightly, like she was braced for something. She practically vibrated with emotion, but when she spoke her voice didn’t so much as waver. “Do you just enjoy being mean to me?”
He didn’t stoop to a response—not that he could literally stoop from this position. Scooping some mud away from her knees, he indicated his body position. “Spread your weight out on the mud, like this, then move forward with your hands. It’s called a crocodile walk.”
She didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. Just kept glaring at him. He pursed his lips. “Kim.”
She shook her head. “I’m serious. You said, ‘Let’s drop the act,’ so I’m dropping mine. Do you have a specific reason for not liking me—”
“I don’t not like you.”
“—for not liking anything I say or do—”
That he acknowledged with a begrudging nod.
“—or are you just a jerk?” She raised one eyebrow and just stood there. He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. She tilted her head and held her silence.
“It’s my fault the farm’s in trouble, okay?” The words burst out. Huh. It actually felt good to say it aloud to someone.
She uncrossed her arms. “How’s it your fault? You’ve only been here about six months.”
He pointed to the mud. She gingerly lay flat on it and tried to wriggle forward. Still stuck. He scooted around to where her legs disappeared into the mud and dug some more. “This goes back further than that. The farm being in trouble was the whole reason I moved home.”
“The whole—So it had nothing to do with the expansion plan?”
“That helped me see it was time to go, but if Jules hadn’t called me, I’d still be in the States right now.” Probably. Maybe.
He excavated till he could see a shapely calf. Kimberly went quiet. He scooped away more mud. Had she really thought—“Did you think I left because I didn’t support your plan?”
“Since you never explained your reasoning to me and the timing was more than coincidental, yes, I did think that.” Her voice was ter
se.
He stared at her a moment. That had bothered her? He scooted away. “Well, I didn’t. Try to move again.”
She struggled against the mud and inched forward. “So why is this your fault?”
“Less talking, more moving.”
“The more you talk, the more I’ll move.”
Impossible woman. He crocodile-walked forward, keeping ahead of Kim’s progress so he didn’t have to look at her. This wasn’t a story he wanted to tell anyone, especially Kim. She already operated under the impression that he was an ignorant hick.
How insufferable would she be once she learned she was right?
“I’m waiting.”
Sam clenched his teeth. Keep it brief, get it over with. “My dad helped me out with some cash when I was younger. To start a business. It didn’t go well, he lost his investment, and the farm’s never gotten back onto its feet.” And Dad spent the last year of his life trying to fix my mistake, and now Jules is paying the price.
A heaviness settled over him, the same one he felt every time he thought about the situation. As if the grief of losing Dad wasn’t enough, Sam had to grapple with the fact he’d cost Mum and Dad their planned trip around Australia together—something they would’ve done in the final year of Dad’s life if Sam hadn’t lost that money on his failed café. That kind of guilt ate at a person.
And now it demanded he listen. As much as he believed they’d survive this rough patch the same way they’d survived every other disaster thrown at them, that nagging voice in the back of his mind refused to be quieted. What if this was the time that the worst happened? What if Jules lost everything? All because he was once an overly enthusiastic twenty-two-year-old?
It seemed to be a pattern that ran in the men of the family.
