The wind howled through the old peppercorn at the back of the house. Matt sat back in his chair and listened. The sound made him feel suddenly lonely and isolated as it whipped around the old cottage. Perhaps it was just that it was one o’clock in the morning and he had only a desk lamp and the light of his tablet to keep him company, but the mournful wind and the sound of the creaking limbs and the rustle of leaves made him feel uneasy. Weather had never really bothered him that much when he lived in the city. It had seemed to be either sunny and hot or cold and raining with the odd thunderstorm – but out here everything seemed closer. He felt more exposed and at the mercy of the elements than he ever had in Melbourne.
Matt stood up and wandered through the dark house towards the verandah. As he opened the front door the wind pushed against him as if it were trying to take him with it. He leant against one of the verandah posts and looked out into the night. The wind rushed through his garden, making the shrubs dance and sway in its wake. He wondered if there’d be any leaves left by morning. In the distance the night sky lit up with shafts of lightning. The storm wasn’t here yet – but it was coming.
Matt stood in the darkness for a long time, listening to the wind and watching the storm edge closer. After a while the sweet scent of rain filled his lungs, and his uneasiness disappeared. With a sense of wonder, Matt suddenly knew that he was connected somehow; he knew that it sounded crazy, but that was it. He wasn’t isolated; he’d found a niche in this little town with friends who he could count on. But as he looked out into the night he realised that the connection went deeper than that – in fact, he was part not only of the cottage and the town but of the landscape, part of the wind and the storm. He couldn’t explain it but deep down he had a sense that he was where he’d always been meant to be. This place was where he belonged.
***
Zane Turner got out of his navy four-wheel drive and stared at the slightly dilapidated weatherboard cottage in front of him. He was dreading this meeting but it had to be done. Zane knew that it wouldn’t end well – neither he nor Tanya were that level-headed. Tanya was all fire and passion and he guessed that was what he liked about her – that was why he had hung around and kept coming back for more. But life had just chucked him a curve ball. The more he thought about it, the more he could understand why his father wanted him to give it another go with Bec, no matter how slim his chances of success. He had to put the survival of Cara Downs before everything else, including Tanya. Before, it hadn’t mattered very much to him when his engagement had ended. The farm was doing well – really well – and he hadn’t thought that much about the future. He assumed that Cara Downs would always be there, but his last conversation with his dad had rattled him to the core.
Zane had always thought that he’d have to marry someday, although every time he thought about it he never pictured Tanya standing beside him. He’d figured that perhaps he and Tanya could keep what they had burning on the side, but it didn’t look as if that was going to pan out now. Besides, deep down he knew that he’d never loved her; well, not the way he should. That sounded cold and mean and Zane didn’t want to be like that but it was the truth. Tanya was like an itch he liked to scratch. She was sexy and fun and he always enjoyed his time with her but . . . but it had never once in all these years felt solid. It was as if they were both biding their time with each other, or at least that’s how he felt. He cared about her but somewhere inside he knew it was never meant to be forever.
He’d made a mistake once before and put his personal life before Cara Downs. Now Zane had decided that he wouldn’t allow it to happen a second time. He had his doubts about his dad’s plan of him getting back with Bec, but if there was even the slightest glimmer of hope, he’d go for it.
Zane took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The front door opened before he was halfway up the broken cement path.
‘Hey babe, what are you doing here?’ Tanya said as she ran her fingers through her hair. She had obviously just got back from work as she was still wearing the mid-blue uniform from Lansell’s Chicken Farm, though she had taken off the hated hairnet.
He walked up the front step and past a couple of flowerpots containing some indistinguishable half-dead plants.
Zane gave her a small smile. ‘I need to have a word – can I come in?’
Tanya stepped back from the door. ‘As if you need to ask.’ She leant forward and dropped a kiss on his lips. ‘Listen, do you want to get a drink while I change out of these?’
Zane wanted to get the whole thing over and done with but he knew how self-conscious Tanya was about her appearance and how much she loathed the fact that she had to wear a uniform to work.
‘Sure, I’ll grab a coffee. Meet you in the kitchen.’
‘Okay. Oh, there’s beer in the fridge if you’d rather that.’
‘Nah, coffee’s fine.’
Tanya disappeared down the hallway as Zane made his way to the kitchen. He picked up the kettle from the chipped laminated bench and walked over to the sink. The room felt oppressive and all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
A few minutes passed before Tanya walked into the room. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that showed off her long legs and a rose-coloured top with thin straps and a scooped neck. Even after all the years Zane still felt a flare of interest every time his gaze settled on her ample breasts. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
‘So what’s up? I thought you couldn’t make it until Friday night.’
‘As I said, I need to talk to you.’ He looked up but couldn’t hold her gaze. He hid this by looking down at his cup and stirring his coffee.
‘Wow, that sounds serious. Come on, babe, it can’t be that bad.’
He winced; he couldn’t help it. ‘Well, Tanya, it kind of is. I’ve come to tell you . . . oh shit, this is harder than I thought.’
Tanya frowned as she leant forward and touched his hand. ‘Tell me.’
Zane pulled his hand away, took a deep breath and stood up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m ending this. I do care about you but we can’t see each other anymore – it’s over.’
Tanya stared at him in silence for one, two, three heartbeats before she jumped up, sending the chair flying.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Just what I said – it’s over, Tanya. We’re done.’
‘What! Just like that? No warning, no thanks for the years I was here for you – just, “We’re done, see ya”.’ She advanced a step, and whether it was intentional or not, Zane found himself taking a step backwards. It was as if he was trying to maintain some distance between them.
‘I’m sorry – I am; but it’s not working anymore. We’re not going anywhere.’
‘That’s because you haven’t had the balls to come out and say to everyone in this goddamn town that we’re together. Your father acts as if I don’t exist, and the only time I’ve been to Cara Downs was when your dad was away on business. We’re not going anywhere because you won’t let us.’
‘Tanya, this has nothing to do with Dad. It’s just that it’s complicated.’
‘Complicated my arse. I’m good enough to screw for the past five years but I’m not good enough to meet your dad or marry. That’s what it all boils down to.’
Zane’s silence was telling. He moved his weight from one foot to the other and wondered how long it would take to get to the door.
‘Geez, you actually believe it, don’t you? You’re not even going to try and deny it.’ Tanya’s hands were tightly clenched, and her eyes were dark with fury.
‘I’m sorry. We had some good times, but it’s over.’ Zane took a couple of steps towards the door. ‘And it’s not that I think you’re not good enough – this had nothing to do with that.’
‘Then what’s it about? Come on, tell me.’
It was his chance to be open and tell her the truth. She deserved that, didn’t she? But somehow he just couldn’t form the words. Instead of revealing how close he was to losing everything, he let the silence hang between them.
‘This isn’t over – not by a long shot. You’ve got someone else, haven’t you? Who is she?’
‘There’s no one. I’m not seeing anyone else. I’m ending this because it’s not working. It’s not fun anymore.’
‘Not fun! You bastard, you said that there’d be a future for us . . . you said that we’d have babies and run Cara Downs together. Goddamn it, Zane, I love you.’
‘Do you? Or do you just see me as a way of getting what you want?’ Just like I did with Bec, he wanted to add but couldn’t. The truth be told, he had used both of them to get what he wanted, and he was about to try and do it Bec again. There was no room for regret, he told himself harshly. He had to do whatever it took to save the homestead.
‘I’ve wasted years on you.’
‘But I thought you just said that you love me.’
‘Go to hell,’ Tanya said as she picked up his coffee cup and threw it at him.
Zane managed to slip through the doorway before the cup slammed against the wall. He hightailed it to the car as quickly as he could. Tanya was still yelling at him. Was he a coward to run away? Probably, but he didn’t care. It was done and that was all that mattered. A small terracotta flowerpot smashed against the side of his car. He turned on the engine and drove off before Tanya could catch up with him. From the safety of his rear-view mirror he saw her run out into the road and lob another flowerpot in his direction. This time it smashed as soon as it hit the bitumen. Zane turned his attention to the road ahead and didn’t look back.
***
It had been pretty windy overnight. Bec’s hopes that it would blow up into a damn good storm had come to nothing; it was just a lot of wind and a brief rain shower that had only skirted the fringes of White Gum Creek. The whole storm front, which had been so promising in the forecasts, had blown off and headed south. It was a shame, as the dams and the water tanks could certainly have done with it. Bec wanted to make sure that there was no damage. Other than a piece of tin off the old shed and a couple of branches coming down in the top paddock, Bluestone Ridge appeared to have come through the wild weather fairly unscathed. Just to make sure, she jumped into her ute and inspected the boundary fences.
It wasn’t until she neared Matt’s place that she noticed that a couple of huge branches of an old gum tree had come down on the one bit of fence that they shared. Now, that was no one’s fault – the wind last night had been strong and gums drop their branches every now and then. Bec stopped the car and went for a closer look. The branches were big and had taken out a decent section of the wire dropper fence.
Bec went around to the front of the house and banged on the door. She expected that Matt was tied to his keyboard and immersed in his latest novel. After a couple of moments she knocked again but there was still no answer. Guess he wasn’t home after all. She realised that his car wasn’t there, which verified his obvious absence. With a sigh, Bec headed back to her ute and the downed fence. If she left it like it was there was a good chance that her sheep would get it in their heads to go for a walk. No, she needed to address the problem – sooner rather than later. Bec got back in her car and drove home. She hadn’t wanted to spend a good chunk of her day cutting up branches and fixing fences but what else could she do? She needed to get a chain and the tractor as one branch had fallen on top of the other. Bec had to move them before she could even start to saw them up.
Once back at home it didn’t take her long to assemble the things she needed and place them on the tractor. She mentally checked off the items as she stowed them on board – chainsaw, safety goggles, work gloves and the all-important thermos of hot coffee. Bec settled into the tractor seat and turned the key in the ignition – nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. Frustration flared through her like a wildfire. She tried the ignition again and there wasn’t a sound at all, let alone the engine turning over. Bec got off the tractor and kicked it. It didn’t help the situation but it made her feel better. Damn useless piece of crap. Great, just great.
Bec pulled her phone out of her pocket. She hesitated for a second before she scrolled down through her contacts and found the number she was looking for. To hell with what her dad would say. She was prepared to pay good money for someone else to deal with the fallen branch and try to mend the shitty tractor.
‘Oh hey, Jamie. It’s Bec Duprey here – just wondering if you were busy today?’ She paused as Jamie Bannon rattled off a greeting. ‘Listen, I’ve got a problem. A few branches have come down on the boundary fence between us and Matt Harvey’s place. It has to be cleared and a section of fence needs to be repaired . . . You can? Oh, that’s great – yeah, see you in about an hour. If I get held up, the chainsaw is in the big shed but the tractor is out of action . . . Yeah, again – oh, I know. See you later. Thanks. Bye.’
As soon as she ended the call she scrolled through her contacts again. She had called Pearl’s number so often lately, she should probably put it at the top of the list, she thought wryly.
‘Hey, Pearl, it’s Bec Duprey here. The tractor’s broken down again.’ She winced as she heard Pearl’s hearty laugh from the other end of the line. ‘Yes, I understand that you’re not a miracle worker but I’d appreciate it if you could look at the thing. You can? Thanks, you’re a life saver.’
With the broken fence and the tractor sorted, Bec headed back to the house. Jamie would be here soon but she had a bit of time up her sleeve. She hurried into the kitchen, calling out hello as she went, but no one answered back. Bec guessed that her father must have had an appointment and Maggie would have gone with him. She walked back out to the shed and remembered to grab her thermos of coffee out of the tractor. Taking her motorbike, she headed up to the ridge. It had become a daily pilgrimage over the years, and since she’d been doing it for such a long time, somehow it didn’t seem right if she missed it. She was never there very long – twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. Just long enough to drink her coffee, take in the landscape and think. She looked across to the hills, past the paddocks which were punctuated with the grey-green tones of the gums. A mob of her sheep stood placidly eating grass. She sat down, leant back against one of the tall eucalypts and cracked open her thermos. As she poured herself a coffee, its rich aroma mixed with the cool air that blew around the top of the ridge. She took a sip, gave a small smile and stared off across the land to the horizon beyond. Wool-gathering, her grandma would have called it, or indulgence in aimless thought. She focused on the great open sky and tried to empty her head of all thoughts of the farm, her father and even Matt Harvey. But as soon as she thought of him she was unable to shake him from her mind. Why the hell was she even thinking about him anyway? She didn’t even like him – did she? That was to say, he seemed alright and was easy enough to talk to, but that didn’t mean he had to keep strolling through her head.
Bec glanced over in the direction of Matt’s cottage and wondered if he was home yet. She made a mental note that she should drop back over there later – just to let him know what was going on with the fence. As she swung her gaze back to the sheep a movement caught her eye. Matt Harvey was walking across her land. She narrowed her eyes and tried to make out what he was doing but he was too far away.
With growing interest she watched as he trekked across the paddock. He’d stop every now and then and look around as if he was searching for something. At first she found the sight of Matt in the middle of the paddock amusing. If ever there was a fish out of water, he was it. But she frowned and stood up as he tripped and took a tumble into a large patch of gorse. He was still using that walking stick and maybe she’d better get down there before he really did himself some damage.
Bec turned away and started down the ridge to where her motorbike was waiting. When she was about halfway down she saw the reason why Matt was trespassing on her land. Standing close to the flock of sheep were two goats. Every time Matt edged near the sheep they would back away and so would the goats. Bec jumped onto her bike and drove along the corrugated dirt track that led to the paddock and her hapless neighbour. As she pulled up alongside Matt she noticed that his expression was a mixture of apprehension and relief. Bec cut the engine, got off the bike and sauntered over to him.
She gave him a slight nod. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi Bec. Look, I’m sorry to be trespassing but Greta and Mabel got away.’
‘Greta and Mabel?’
Matt flushed. ‘Um . . . my goats.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘The wind last night brought down a branch that decimated part of our shared fence line. I was going to call you so we could figure out how to fix it when I noticed the girls were on your side of the fence. So I went after them. I was thinking, God only knows why, that it couldn’t take me long to herd them back to my place. But every time I get near them they run off. I’ve been at it now for a couple of hours.’
‘Well, goats can be tricky.’
‘You’re telling me. Now it appears that they both want to be sheep.’ Bec followed Matt’s gaze over to the goats. They were standing among the sheep and looking pretty bloody pleased with themselves. ‘Looks like the flock have adopted them,’ he added.
Bec bit back a smile. ‘Well, I’m sure we can wrangle them back.’
‘Really? I can’t get near them.’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Thanks, I’d appreciate it. After hours of chasing them, I think I should rename them Demon and Devil’s Spawn.’
‘Catchy – they certainly have a ring to them.’ Bec noticed that Matt looked pale and he had dirt on his jeans where he’d fallen over. Each time he took a step, he leaned heavily on his walking stick. It was pretty clear to Bec that he was worn out and hurting. She walked back to her bike, pulled out the spare helmet and handed it to Matt.
‘Here, put this on and I’ll give you a ride back to your place.’
He looked at the bike longingly. ‘Um, what about Demon and Devil’s Spawn?’
‘I don’t think they’ll get into too much mischief with their new friends. I saw the fence earlier – I’ve called Jamie Bannon and he’s going to clear the fallen branches and do the repairs. He’ll give me a hand later to get the goats in.’
‘But I should help.’
‘It’s alright – I’ve got it covered. I’ll drop them over later, okay?’
‘Thanks, that’d be great.’ Matt put the helmet on and adjusted the strap under his chin.
‘Come on, I’ll take you home. I reckon you look like you need a cup of tea.’ Bec swung onto the bike. She felt the motorcycle dip a bit more as Matt sat behind her. Then his hands encircled her waist. They were warm and, Bec had to admit, a bit disconcerting.
‘Thanks, Bec, I think you’re right.’
***
Matt’s leg was aching . . . no, throbbing was a better description. He’d spent hours walking up nearly every hill and gully of Bluestone Ridge looking for his two wayward goats. He’d been increasing his exercise program and working on his leg but the aimless searching of this morning had taken its toll. His doctor and physio had both assured him that he was making good progress but it sure as hell didn’t feel like that today.
He hung on to Bec’s waist as the motorcycle bumped over the uneven ground of the paddocks. The brief rain the previous night had softened patches of the ground and the bike managed to find a couple of muddy potholes. Crossing Bluestone Ridge, Matt could see that grass was trying to claw its way back from the drought but there were still great swathes of the paddocks which were bare of any vegetation.
Matt was grateful that Bec had turned up when she had, although he got the feeling that she probably thought him inept. This wasn’t the first time that he had appeared clueless when it came to living in the bush.
‘You okay back there?’ Bec said over her shoulder.
‘Yeah – I’m fine.’
‘Good. It won’t take long to get you back to the cottage.’
‘The rain was good last night,’ Matt said, feeling the need to carry on the conversation.
‘Yeah, it was. But we need a hell of a lot more before next spring if we’re going get through the summer.’
After several more minutes Bec pulled up in front of Matt’s place.
‘There you go. I’ll drop round with your goats later.’
Matt got off the bike. ‘Thanks, Bec – I appreciate it. Sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.’
‘No trouble. It wasn’t as if you summoned up the storm and caused the branches to fall.’
‘Do you want to come in for a drink?’
Bec hesitated for a second and Matt was sure that she was going to say no.
‘Sure, why not?’
‘Is tea okay?’
‘Sounds good.’
She climbed off the bike and followed him up to the house. He was conscious of her presence behind him and her soft footsteps on the old cement path. Each time he was with Bec everything around him seemed heightened, clearer, maybe even more intense – how weird was that?
‘Come on in,’ he said as he looked back at her.
She nodded but said nothing as she followed him through the small lounge room, which was stuffed with overflowing bookcases, and into the much clearer space of the kitchen.
‘Wow, you’ve got a lot of books.’
‘Well, I can’t deny it. Some are for research but others I just can’t bear to part with.’ He flicked on the kettle and opened up a bottom cupboard and took out an old wooden tray. With deft movements he made a pot of green tea and grabbed a couple of cups and saucers.
He was aware that Bec was watching his every move and wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. She seemed to be sizing him up, or something to that effect. He placed everything on the tray and went to pick it up.
‘Here, I’ll get that,’ Bec said as she pushed herself off the doorframe. ‘Your leg’s hurting.’
‘I’m not an invalid.’
‘Never said you were. But you have to admit that you’re buggered from all the walking,’ she said.
Matt was about to respond with a tart quip. It hurt him to think that she thought of him like that – as someone who wasn’t even capable of carrying a tray – but he stopped himself when she shook her head as she took the tray into the lounge room.
‘This hasn’t got anything to do with me thinking you’re weak,’ she continued. ‘It’s just obvious that you need to rest your leg. Sometimes, even when it almost kills us to admit it, we all need a bit of help.’
Matt blew out a breath as he sat down on the leather couch. His leg was giving him hell and Bec was right. He just had to accept it.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all defensive.’
Bec shrugged. ‘Not a problem.’
Bec set the tray down on the small coffee table and poured the tea. A silence settled over the room; it should have been uncomfortable but it wasn’t.
‘So other than writing books and chasing goats around, what else do you do?’ Bec handed him a cup and he caught the scent of the fragrant tea as a wisp of steam wafted up.
‘Um, I guess I read. I’ve also discovered that I enjoy walking around here – well, maybe not today. I’ve pushed myself too far and I know it.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I vlog.’
Bec gave him a baffled look. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘A vlog. It’s a video blog post. I’ve been doing it for about a year now.’
‘So you record yourself and put it up on the internet so people can watch it?’
‘Yep.’
Bec frowned. ‘What on earth do you talk about?’
‘Lots of things. Sometimes I talk about my books or the research I’ve been doing. Other times, I talk about the cottage and my valiant efforts in DIY.’
‘Okay . . . I don’t think I’d know what to say.’
‘I thought that too when I started. I thought that no one would be interested in me or my books but I guess I was wrong.’
‘No, I get that your readers would like it.’
‘Well, some of them anyway. My sister encouraged me to do it after I had the accident. She was worried that I was withdrawing from everything and everyone. She thought it would be a way for me to reconnect with the world but still keep a degree of distance.’
‘Was she right?’
‘Yeah, I guess she was.’
‘What happened?’ Bec said before she raised her hands in front of her. ‘No, no, you don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘It’s okay. I had a car accident. The person who was driving didn’t make it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I. Anyway, my leg was pretty badly injured and it took a long time and a hell of a lot of physio to get me where I am today. My sister, Jules, was worried that I had become a hermit in my own home. I guess I was trapped there with guilt – you know, that the accident might not have happened if I had been driving, or maybe it was just guilt because I survived. I wasn’t living and I didn’t care – I was just existing. I was lost, I know that now.’
‘You were trapped?’
‘Well, that’s what it felt like. The days blended together and I couldn’t get out, at least that’s how it seemed. The whole dismal situation wasn’t of my making but that didn’t matter – and I guess I allowed the accident, the injury and the guilt to overwhelm me. I suppose Jules saw that and tried to push me forward, or in any direction really, just so I started moving again.’
‘And the vlogging helped.’
‘Not at first; I thought it was stupid. I did it only because Jules begged me. But the longer I did it, the more I realised that I actually enjoyed it. So, I’ll keep doing it until everyone gets sick to death of me.’
‘Sounds like a plan. So can I see one?’
‘Why not?’ He winced as he stood up from the couch.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get up.’
‘It’s alright – come on, my office is through here.’
Matt led Bec through the kitchen to his office and mucked about with the computer for a few seconds until his vlog channel was up.
‘There you go – I made this one a couple of weeks ago.’
Bec stood close to him and leaned in towards the monitor. It was wrong, but Matt was incredibly aware of her. They weren’t touching but he could feel the heat of her body. He had no business thinking about what it would be like to touch her – no business at all. He stepped away.
The vlog was about his latest book and the scene that had caused him so much grief. It was a pivotal scene between his protagonist, Alistair Tremayne, and the heroine, Tansy McCallister. No matter how many times he rewrote the damn thing it was never quite right. So for the vlog he had recounted his many attempts, which began seriously and ended up degenerating into the ridiculous. He had hoped when he had recorded it that it was amusing, and he felt a sense of relief when Bec laughed a couple of times. It was an odd feeling standing next to someone while they watched his channel. Matt felt exposed and that hadn’t happened before.
‘So that’s it,’ he said as he turned it off.
‘I liked it,’ Bec said with a smile. ‘So did you ever get that scene written?’
Matt shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m afraid it’s still a work in progress. I joked about for the vlog but I swear it’s so bloody hard. I think I’ve rewritten it about twenty times. The rest of the book is beginning to fall into place but this one scene, it’s killing me.’
‘Do you have to put it in?’
‘Yeah, it’s pivotal – I just can’t get it right.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Bec said, and she reached over and touched his hand.
He closed his hand over hers, and in that instant he felt he was at the edge of a precipice. Her hand was warm and her palm both calloused and soft at the same time. She squeezed his hand. And as a jolt of something other than electricity buzzed through him, he really wished she hadn’t.