A Girl's Guide to the Outback

by Jessica Kate

  Wherever I end up. Pain pierced her. A Christmas somewhere that wasn’t home. Would it hurt as much then as it did today?

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” But Kim’s words rang hollow. They both knew things would be awkward with Sam if this relationship didn’t pan out. And the way it seemed headed . . .

  “You’re flying out tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah. Bus tonight.”

  Jules slouched in her seat. “It’ll be so boring. You and Mick both gone.” Not that she’d be staying herself much longer. Her chest panged again. On some subconscious level she kept forgetting that the farm would be sold. Each time she remembered, pain hit her anew, like rolling waves over a drowning swimmer.

  “He’s going back to the Gold Coast?”

  “Yep.”

  The silence stretched as they rumbled over the cattle grid, drove up the short distance of road, and turned into the Carrigans’ driveway. Kimberly drove slowly, as the driveway’s corrugations threatened to rattle out each of Jules’s fillings.

  Kimberly finally spoke, her fingers plucking at mud on the steering wheel. “It might be too early to ask, but what are you planning to do?”

  “I applied for a job at Cockatoo Creek Camp this morning.” A cautious smile crept across Jules’s lips. It was the first time she’d said it aloud. Speaking of Cockatoo Creek almost felt like a betrayal of Yarra Plains—like one dream was still warm in the grave as she moved on to the next. But she needed something new to look forward to, as well as a new income.

  Maybe Cockatoo Creek would be somewhere to heal.

  Downshifting, Kimberly dumped the clutch, and the ute shuddered forward. “You did? Are you okay with that? Are you going to tell Mick?”

  “Yes, yes, and no.” Jules hesitated. She’d been agonizing over this problem for hours—days, really. “I mean, yes—I don’t know.”

  “We’re about to drive up to his house, so you’d better make up your mind.”

  Jules picked at what was left of her fingernails. This was the question that’d been rattling in her brain for days. “The night before the fire, I told God I’d let the farm go if He wanted me to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I was thinking about going to Cockatoo Creek anyway. And maybe if I was there, Mick might think about giving me a second—okay, third—shot. But then the fire happened.”

  Kimberly’s smile was rueful. “A fairly dramatic answer.”

  Jules shook her head, urgency in her tone. “No, I mean it’s the problem. The fire didn’t give me a choice. It looks bad.”

  Kimberly’s nod was slow. “Like he’s your consolation prize.”

  “He’s not!” They rolled through the last gate into the flat square of land where the sheds and house stood squat against the muddy landscape. The sheds blocked Jules’s view of the house but Killer was barking up a storm.

  Kim held up a palm. “I believe you. You’re worried he won’t?”

  “No one would blame him.” Jules dragged a hand down her face. “I’ve been such an idiot. Now it’s too late.” Her chest tightened as Mick’s expression when he said goodbye flashed before her mind’s eye.

  Kimberly parked the ute behind Mick’s shed, still out of sight of the house, and turned in her seat to face Jules properly. “Why did it take you so long?”

  Jules rested her forehead in her palm and moaned. “It sounds stupid now.”

  “Try me.”

  She waved her hands in the air, like she could pluck the right words from the atmosphere. “I just . . . This is how I pictured my life. Doing what Mum did. I so admired how she never gave up, no matter what. The legacy meant a lot to me.” At the look on Kim’s face, she halted what she’d been about to say about the farm’s connection to Dad. No sense making her feel worse. She shifted conversational gears. “It’s just that life out here is such a battle to survive, I had to hold tight to that picture in my head. It took me a while to see that maybe it’s okay to let go.”

  Kimberly steepled her fingers, expression thoughtful. “Would you have gone to Cockatoo Creek even if the hay didn’t burn?”

  Jules tilted her head, weighing her words. “Of course it’s too easy to say yes now. But I really do think I would have. Life out here’s been incredible, but it’s also lonely and all-consuming. I’d see the work Sam did with those kids and wish I could do something too, but the farm demanded everything I had.” She shrugged. “Maybe this is my chance to do that. But I think I’ve missed the boat with Mick.”

  Kimberly smoothed a thumb over puppy-inflicted scratches on her hand. “I think this is the same as the farm thing.”

  Jules refocused on her friend. “What?”

  “You’ve been trying so hard to control the future of the farm. Now you can’t control what happens with Mick. Let go and find out.” She nodded to something behind Jules. “And I think you’ll find out now.”

  Chapter 38

  Jules spun her head around so fast she almost threw her neck out. Mick stood ten feet from the ute, arms folded and expression inscrutable.

  “How much of that did he hear?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. Forget butterflies—a flock of emus flapped their flightless wings in her stomach.

  “I noticed him there somewhere around ‘Cockatoo Creek,’ but I think he may’ve been there longer.”

  A smile radiated from Kimberly’s voice, but Jules’s eyes remained locked on Mick. “Stop smiling. This isn’t funny.”

  “You can’t see me,” Kim protested.

  Jules pointed two fingers at the back of her head and one to Kimberly, in the universal “I’ve got my eyes on you” symbol.

  “That’ll be real handy when you have kids.”

  “Shut up.” Jules opened the ute door and slid out of her seat. Mick still hadn’t moved a muscle. She closed the door and only vaguely registered the ute rolling off to one of the machinery sheds.

  She scanned him, from his Stay Pawsitive T-shirt to his rainbow crocs and up again. Usually he was easier to read than a fresh edition of Queensland Country Life. But as her pulse beat out a panicked staccato, his expression remained a mask of control.

  She cleared her throat. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Mick planted his hands on his hips. “Let me tell you all the reasons I shouldn’t do this.”

  Shouldn’t do this? Did that mean that he would . . . whatever “this” was? Her heartbeat kicked up another notch. “Okay.”

  He held up one finger, counting off. “You rejected me.”

  A reluctant nod.

  Second finger. “You rejected me again.”

  She shuffled on her feet. It sounded bad when he put it like that.

  Third. “Once I was all set to go home, you come back here and say you changed your mind.”

  Confound his accurate recollection. She clasped sweaty palms together.

  Pinkie finger. “This is all probably a reaction to losing your farm.” He held up his thumb. “And there’s a decent chance that in a week you’ll change your mind.” He dropped the hand, then ran it through his hair, ruffling his almost-curls. “I don’t know if I can take it a third time.”

  Jules folded her arms and fought to keep a grin from rising. He’d stayed here long enough to say all that. It was all the reassurance she needed. “That’s rubbish.”

  “What?” He pulled his gaze up from her boots to her eyes.

  She unfolded her arms and took a step forward. “Without thinking about it, first word off the top of your head, what do you want?”

  He smiled that kind of pressed-lips smile he always had when trying to look serious. “That’s not fair.”

  She held up her hands. Her nerves tingled all over. “I’m right here. You would be totally justified in telling me to hit the road. So do it.” She waited a beat. He looked at her lips. “I dare you.”

  The repressed smile turned into a grin as his gaze locked back on hers. “Hit the road.”

  She turned.

  Two quick steps behi
nd her, and he caught her around the waist, his fingers finding that ticklish spot on her ribs. Laughter bubbled up as he spun her to face him. “But not without me.”

  She kissed him—or he kissed her. Hard to tell which. All she knew was his arms were tight around her, he smelled like fresh air and something spicy, and his lips pulled into a smile as he kissed her once, twice, and a fair-dinkum-I-can-see-through-the-space-time-continuum third time. Her moon-booted foot popped of its own volition, Princess Diaries style. It brought a smirk to her lips as Mick leaned back, breathless.

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. Just happy.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Just happy? I was kinda going for ecstatic.”

  She rolled her eyes and tugged her hand on the back of his neck till they were a breath apart—

  A horn sounded. Mick almost jumped out of his skin. Jules laughed, relief and joy cohabitating with her loss in one weird jumble.

  The ute rolled out of the machinery shed, a sheepish Kimberly inside.

  “Sorry to break up the party, guys, but I’ve got a bus to catch.”

  * * *

  Kimberly’s congratulatory smile lasted until they’d unloaded the motorbike, she’d hugged Jules goodbye, and alone in the truck, exited the Carrigan farm gate. Then she ugly-cried all the way back from Mick’s. She hiccupped her way through packing. And she sobbed during a shower, the scalding water mixing with her tears.

  She had failed, and that failure had not only cost Sam and Jules—it also meant she’d have no home to go back to. Oh, her rental would still be there, but Wildfire would probably soon disappear. She’d fight to save it, but the board likely wouldn’t be swayed—not without Sam. And then what would she be left with? LA wasn’t home anymore—neither Mom’s luxury apartment nor Dad’s less-than-respectable neighborhood.

  She could take an offer like Greg’s for Potted Plants 4 Hire, but the thought pinged away like a repelling magnet. Short-term contract work, a different city every few months? The tender emotional roots that’d begun to sprout from her heart shriveled. No. No home for her there either.

  And for every tear she cried for herself, she cried another for her friends. Jules—though hopeful for a new future—still mourned what she had lost. Sam remained guilt-ridden and more gun-shy than ever before. Would he work in ministry again? Would the world miss out on his passion, his enthusiasm, his listening ear? Her insides shredded at the thought.

  She even cried for Mrs. Payton, deprived of the land that’d consumed her life for more than fifty years. And what would Butch do if everyone left? This crazy family that’d landed in his life could now leave it.

  Kimberly donned her comfy travel leggings and long T-shirt, shoved sunglasses over her gritty eyes, and dragged her suitcase toward the door. She’d farewelled Jules back at Mick’s. Butch had given her a silent salute as she left the sheds, which she interpreted as “Thanks for the comic book conversations and best of luck.” And Sam . . .

  Yeah.

  She had the suitcase down three steps when the veranda door opened. Mrs. Payton poked her head out, a red-checked apron tied over her work clothes, face aged another five years in the past five days. The smell of those Australian Anzac biscuits came with her. Ever since the fire, the woman had either worked beside Jules, baked, or slept. It’d take a decade to eat all those biscuits.

  The older woman frowned at Kimberly’s suitcase. “Sam’s down the back paddock.”

  Kimberly forced a polite smile. “Thanks.” She descended two more steps. Sam being in the back paddock was the whole point of sneaking off three hours early.

  “He’s not driving you in?”

  “We’ve already talked. I’ll drive myself. Mick will hitch a ride in with Butch later and bring the truck back.”

  A half-truth. She and Sam had talked, alright—just not about her accelerated departure time.

  Mrs. Payton’s frown intensified. Did the woman really care that much? She’d delivered her apology and even surprised Kimberly with that thank-you, but ever since the fire she’d maintained a wide distance. Perhaps she didn’t share Jules’s “It’s not your fault” sentiments. Either way, this reaction came as a surprise. Maybe Kimberly shouldn’t have implicated Mick or Butch in the conspiracy.

  Another step. Her arms ached from the bag’s weight. Please go back inside. She didn’t have the spunk to go another round with Mrs. Payton right now.

  But the older woman leaned against the doorjamb like she had all day. “Does Sam realize you’re leaving now?”

  None of your beeswax. Another tight smile. She repeated the words with the same breezy inflection she used the first time. “We’ve already talked.”

  “This isn’t any of my business but—”

  Kimberly’s suitcase tipped and slid down the rest of the steps. She blinked at it, heaved a sigh, and turned to face Mrs. Payton. She’d had exactly three polite answers left in her. “Look, we both know you weren’t my biggest fan. But I’m going now. So what else do you want from me?”

  Mrs. Payton absorbed the cheek without so much as a blink. “I want what’s best for my kids.”

  Kimberly cocked her head. So?

  “You pushed Sam to reach past his fears. He needs that now more than ever.”

  Kimberly pressed her lips together. What did this woman want her to do about it? She’d flown to the other side of the world and risked heartbreak in the effort to bring Sam back to his calling. It hadn’t been enough.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

  She dug the nails of one hand into her palm and clutched the rough wood of the handrail with the other. “That’s great and all, but he just broke up with me.” She—barely—kept her voice even. Just like Mom, he’d seen her at her best and worst, spent incalculable time with her . . . and still decided to push her away. Ninja stars zinged around her heart like a pinball machine, each memory another cut. Kimberly’s volume rose as her voice broke. “So can I please. Just. Go. Home?”

  Something akin to compassion crossed Mrs. Payton’s face. “He’s not thinking straight.”

  Kimberly rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. She had nothing left. “What do you want me to do about that?”

  “Does he know how you feel?”

  Her pitch hit new heights. “Excuse me?”

  “If you leave like this, once he comes to his senses he’ll think you’re long gone. You guys have a good thing. Give him a chance to come around.”

  Kimberly stared at her. Which part to process first? The fact that Mrs. Payton apparently approved of her? Or that the woman wanted her to spill her guts to someone who’d already cast her aside? Words tumbled out of her mouth, incredulous. “You want me to say, ‘Hey, I know you just broke up with me, but I really like you, so just chew on that for a while from the other side of the globe’?”

  Mrs. Payton shrugged. “I’ll leave that part up to you.”

  Kimberly threw her a look, then headed down the steps. “I’ll drive myself.” Rage fueling her strength, she heaved her suitcase into the back of the truck, slammed the driver’s door shut, and only dumped the clutch twice as she roared out of the yard.

  * * *

  He was a terrible person.

  Sam pushed his next temporary fence post into the soft earth, brushing his cheek against his shoulder to dislodge a persistent fly. If only he could push his problems away just as easily. This partition in the northernmost sorghum paddock didn’t even need to be set up until tomorrow morning. Cowardice was the only thing that kept him here.

  He’d turned on the Carrigans’ borrowed quad bike no less than three times, ready to search Kimberly out and beg forgiveness. And each time he’d climbed back off and returned to his fence.

  A figure on a bicycle approached the paddock gate, barely visible past the shoulder-height sorghum at the edge of the paddock. Intelligent thought fled his brain. He’d just spoken on the phone to Butch, who was fixing a broken irrigator in a paddock near the dairy
. It had to be Kim. What on earth could he say to her? The energy to argue with her about Wildfire had deserted him, but neither could he make himself get on that plane. He was meant to take her to the bus soon, in what was destined to be the forty most awkward minutes of his life. Why did she make this harder?

  But as the figure pushed its way through the sorghum, recognition hit. Mum. He frowned and called out, “Everything okay?” Something had to be drastically wrong for Mum to ride a push bike.

  “Kimberly’s gone.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped. She’d left without saying goodbye? “Already?” There would be no one last fight. No painful farewell. No awkward hug. Relief flooded in, followed by a black hole of shame.

  The reality of Mum’s statement sank into his mind like a pebble into a pond. Kimberly was really gone. Barring anything unexpected, he’d likely never see her again.

  That pebble morphed into a boulder and settled on his chest. That thought was more awful to contemplate than the dairy’s effluent pond.

  He had to do something.

  Sam did the math in his head as he slipped the electric tape through the insulated loop at the top of the fence post. It’d take Kimberly forty minutes to get to town. The bus had to be some distance away yet—she hadn’t been due to leave for hours. Did she plan to wait in town? Could he catch her? Or was she driving to Brisbane herself?

  Puffing for breath, Mum leaned against the four-wheeler, which held his electric tape reel and fence posts. “Why aren’t you going with her?”

  He opened his mouth, shut it. Every answer that sprang to mind, including the one he’d given Kim, seemed too silly to say aloud to Mum—the woman who’d never been afraid of anything. Mum narrowed her eyes. “Don’t give me that look. Spit it out.”

  “Look at what happened.” He gestured around them. How could Mum even ask that? She loved this place the most of all of them—she was the one who’d planned to be buried here beside Dad, beneath the gum trees they’d both loved. “You told us not to take out the loan. Aren’t you furious?”

  Mum sighed, her posture sagging, and his heart sank. She clasped her hands in front of her. “You know I always tell you the truth. I’ll probably always grieve this place. And my feelings toward Kimberly’s role in this are . . . mixed.” Her voice wavered.