After mulling things over for days, Liz made a decision. Crossing the kitchen to the phone, she dialled the numbed jotted in her notebook. ‘Jack, it’s Liz Fairburn.
‘How are you?’
‘Very well. Listen, I’m ringing with a suggestion I think you’re going to like.’
There was a deep chuckle on the end of the line. ‘A suggestion or a proposition?’
‘Take your pick.’ Liz smiled, amazed that just hearing Jack Roper’s voice could make her feel flirtatious. ‘The thing is,’ she said, adopting a more serious tone. ‘I’ve looked on the map and I’ve seen where you live. I was rather shocked that you’re so far away. It’s too far to come here every week, surely?’
‘I’ll admit it’s a hike. But I do feel bad about neglecting Alex’s music over the past twelve months. I’d like to try to make up for that.’
‘Well, I’m suggesting a compromise. How about we have the lessons in Gidgee Springs? In the CWA hall?’
‘Are you sure?’ Jack asked doubtfully.
‘I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure. I’m playing at a fundraiser luncheon for the CWA, you see. It’s pro bono, and they’ve given me a key and offered me the use of their hall any time I like. Their piano’s okay – just okay, mind you, but it will do.’
When Jack hesitated, Liz said, ‘I wouldn’t mind a trip into town once a week.’ This was true. She really did find the silence and loneliness of the bush oppressive at times. ‘And it would save you a couple of hours off your round trip.’
‘It’s a very thoughtful offer, Liz.’
‘I feel as if I owe you. Bella and I are very grateful that you saved our heifer and calf. But if you decide to do this, I’d like to stick with Saturday mornings if that’s okay.’
‘Saturday’s fine, sure. Okay, I’ll accept your kind offer on one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We ask Alex to practise for an hour afterwards while I shout you a drink or a coffee.’
Liz grinned. Dating in Gidgee Springs? What a lark! The local gossipers would have a field day. But Jack knew that and he obviously didn’t care.
‘That sounds like a fair deal, Jack.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Liz was smiling as she hung up, and for no logical reason, she danced a little jig around the kitchen.
‘What’s got into you?’
She hadn’t seen Bella in the doorway, wide eyed and curious.
‘Spring fever,’ Liz responded with a cheeky shrug.
Spring fever.
Romance seemed so easy for her aunt.
Bella had trouble concentrating as she sat at the computer that evening, logging in new details to the grazing plan she’d installed for her dad back when she was studying for her business degree. She kept remembering Liz’s happy dance, which had apparently been inspired by a simple invitation for coffee with Jack Roper.
Liz always seemed to have a man in her life and she never seemed to get in a stew about any of them. How did she do that? It was impossible for Bella, who’d spent almost her whole life completely caught up with one particular male.
These days, that particular male was there in her head the whole time, distracting her. She couldn’t stop thinking about . . .
‘Bella?’
At the sound of Liz’s voice Bella jumped. Her aunt was at the doorway, holding a huge pink mug. ‘I made hot chocolate. Thought you might like one.’
‘Oh.’ Bella hoped she wasn’t blushing. ‘I’d love one. Thanks.’
Liz nodded towards the computer screen. ‘You work too hard.’
Another blush threatened. ‘I want everything shipshape for Dad.’
‘I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.’ Bella was determined to be super cool as she pulled up beside Gabe’s truck on Thursday morning. Totally, impressively, super cool.
‘Getting the tank into the back of this ute wasn’t as easy as it looked,’ she explained as she climbed out and adjusted the brim of her hat to the glare. Then she noticed George Clooney scampering at Gabe’s heels, wagging his tail madly.
‘Hey, cute boy.’ Kneeling, she rubbed his ears. ‘Have you come to help us?’
‘More like he stowed away,’ said Gabe. ‘I was halfway down the track before I realised he was in the back. Roy’s right. The girls have spoiled him rotten. He thinks he’s part of the family.’
‘Well, between the two of us, we should be able to keep an eye on him.’
‘He’ll have to stay locked in the cabin while we’re burning.’ Gabe frowned. ‘So you had troubles with the tank?’
‘Only nuisance value. The chain caught when I was lowering it down on the block and it took a while to undo. And then I took a while longer to find the load binders.’
‘Well, everything looks good now.’ Gabe prowled round the back of the ute, surveying her handiwork, testing the tension of one of the binders she’d tied over the tank. ‘It’s all very secure.’
‘Yeah. I was like superwoman working that ratchet to get it tight.’
‘Great job.’
He smiled at her and she so wished he wouldn’t smile like that. The sparkle in his eyes undid all the good resolutions she’d set in place over the past three days.
He rapped his knuckles against the side of the tank. ‘You’ve already filled it, too.’
‘Yeah. I reversed the hoses to pump it out of the river.’
‘Terrific. We’re all set to start then.’
It was another stinking hot day. Still and sticky. The hot end of the dry season at its very worst. The kind of day that made even the most dyed-in-the-wool bush folk want to get the hell off to the coast, to dive in the cool blue surf and sip icy-cold beer or drinks that were served with little umbrellas.
Instead, Bella and Gabe lit four kilometres of fire lines and watched the grass burn up to the road, controlling the back-burn with shovels and the water tankers. It was another day of hot and dirty work, but it was important work. Grasslands were gold for graziers and they had to be protected, so they got on with the job, working as a team, just as they had at the Piccadilly dam, just as they had so many times in the past.
They were sore-eyed and smoky by the time they’d finished and they ate their lunch on a shaded shelf of rock, drinking sweetened billy tea from chipped enamel mugs, sharing Gabe’s corned beef sandwiches.
‘Have you heard from your mother and sisters?’ Bella asked. ‘Are they having a good time at Noosa?’
‘Having a ball. Hard not to at this time of year.’
‘It’s a bugger for you, though, having to stay at home over Christmas and slog it out here on your own.’ Not that either Sarah or Gabe’s mother was much help when they were home. His little sister Ellie was different. She loved getting stuck into cattle work.
Gabe shrugged. ‘I’d have to listen to Sarah raving on about the latest guy she’s crazy over.’
‘That’s her default setting, isn’t it?’
‘Seems that way.’ Gabe helped himself to a sandwich. ‘Apparently, my mother’s going out with someone, too.’
Gabe said this casually enough, but Bella thought he looked a bit worried.
‘How do you feel about that?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’ He sounded doubtful.
‘It’s not really surprising, Gabe. Your mother’s still very attractive and – and it must be hard for her on her own.’
It was strange, though, talking about other people’s relationships when they couldn’t talk about the one relationship that really mattered to her – their own.
Gabe broke off a corner of his sandwich and tossed it to George Clooney. ‘So tell me about Europe. What’s the best thing you’ve seen over there?’
As he obviously didn’t want to talk about his family, Bella accepted this rather deliberate change of tack.
What was the best thing? She thought of Flo’s bar in the beautiful Alps, the laughter and camaraderie of young people bent on having fun. She thought of the beauty of a fresh coating of snow on the ground and trees, making everything look like a wedding cake. And then, perhaps a bit late, she thought of Anton.
It felt mean to talk about snow and Alpine bars to Gabe stuck here in the outback heat.
‘This is going to sound weird,’ she said, ‘but the beautiful churches really blew me away.’
He sent her a sceptical smile. ‘What about the blokes? Aren’t European guys supposed to be super studs and sexy?’
‘Depends on your taste,’ she said quickly, hoping that Gabe hadn’t heard rumours about Anton. ‘Speaking of taste, this corned beef is terrific. Did you cook it?’
‘Yep.’ He was still watching her with a thoughtful smile. ‘Roy made the pickles.’
‘Roy? Really? The pickles are yum. What a talent.’ She was talking fast, trying to cover her discomfort. Gabe couldn’t know about Anton, could he? She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him to know. She supposed she was trying to avoid any awkwardness. ‘Roy would make someone a great wife.’
Gabe’s eyebrows lifted as he reached for another sandwich. ‘I wouldn’t mention that in his hearing.’
‘Well, no, of course not.’
‘Touchy subject.’
‘You mean Roy has a love life?’
‘Past tense. Sad story.’
Bella had never imagined the old ringer suffering from romantic heartbreak. ‘It just goes to show.’
‘Show what?’
Heartbreak happens to everyone. ‘Um . . . that you can’t judge a book by its cover.’
‘That’s certainly true.’
They lapsed into silence for a bit.
‘How’s your dad?’ Gabe asked.
Bella gave a slow shrug. ‘I certainly hope he’s getting better, but it’s hard to tell for sure. Whenever I ring he just tells me not to worry, he’s fine, but until I see him with my own eyes . . . ’
‘He’ll be grateful for the great job you’re doing here.’
She smiled, quietly pleased by the compliment. It was almost like the old times when they’d talked for hours, except that now they were skimming the surface, ducking and weaving, avoiding the obvious and searching for safe things to talk about.
‘My dad always had a lot of respect for Peter,’ Gabe said next.
‘I think it was mutual.’
‘In fact everyone in the north respects him,’ Gabe said. ‘I’ve even seen the Jensens bowing and tugging at their forelock and calling him Mr Fairburn.’
Bella blinked. The Jensens were a rough, tough mob, always picking fights in the pub. They were suspected by everyone for cattle duffing. ‘That’s a surprise,’ she said.
Gabe nodded. ‘Story Dad told me. Peter rescued their mum when she was young. Apparently ferals tried to take over the pub at Dirranbilla where Marjorie Jensen was working. Really bad types. They’d done sentences up in Darwin. And this day there was no one else around, so they pulled out the phone, served themselves beer and started smashing up bar stools. Then they started groping poor Marjorie.’
‘What happened? Don’t tell me my dad stopped them?’
Gabe smiled as he nodded. ‘One of them picked up a broken bar stool, but the story goes – quiet, laid-back Peter Fairburn walked in on them, grabbed a pool cue, stepped up and faced them both like a two-handed swordsman.’
‘Crikey.’
‘And they backed right off.’
Bella couldn’t help smiling. It matched what she knew about her dad as a peaceful man who would nevertheless stand up to bullies. ‘He never told us about it.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? He’s not a boaster.’
‘No.’ Bella swallowed, felt nervous. After her dad’s heart attack, she had a slightly better understanding of how truly awful it had been for Gabe when his father had the accident. ‘Gabe . . . I know how close you were to your father.’
He nodded and looked solemn.
‘You two were great mates.’ Bella knew she was pushing into dangerous territory, but she sensed Gabe had moved on from his initial grief. Perhaps it would help to talk now.
Seemed Gabe shared the same view. ‘When I was a youngster I tried to copy him,’ he said quietly, staring off into the distance. ‘I always hung around him like a bad smell – when he worked on machinery or fencing, whatever. If he took his shirt off, I took mine off.’
Bella smiled, imagining it.
‘I even rolled my own smokes,’ Gabe said. ‘Copying the old man. Filled them with dried grass.’
She laughed. ‘Did he catch you?’
‘Of course. “You’re not lighting those things, are you?” he’d say. And I’d swear blind-blue that I wasn’t.’
‘But you were.’
‘Course I was. I lit up and coughed my guts out. “That’s it,” Dad said when he caught me, “I’m giving up the fags.” And he gave them up just like that, cold turkey. And never once acted as if he minded.’ Gabe’s mouth tilted sadly.
‘We’ve both been lucky with our dads,’ Bella said softly.
She’d finished her sandwich and she leaned back against the smooth rock, surprised that they’d reached this sense of close connection so quickly. ‘When you think about it, it’s so obvious that you can never judge people by their outsides, but we still do it, don’t we?’
Gabe looked puzzled. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘From when we were talking about Roy.’ She sighed. ‘All those old sayings are true.’
Gabe smiled and regarded her with amused interest. ‘What sayings?’
‘Oh, you know – things like don’t count your chickens before they hatch.’
His smile broadened as he tossed a rosy-pink dollop of meat to George Clooney. ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’
Bella laughed, remembering the easy banter they’d once enjoyed. ‘Actions speak louder than words.’
‘Any specific actions you had in mind?’ Suddenly Gabe was staring at her, his eyes intense as he searched her face.
Something about his expression made Bella’s already unsteady heartbeats pick up pace. ‘No. Nothing specific.’
‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire,’ Gabe said and he spoke so quietly and intently that she knew he wasn’t talking about this morning’s back-burning.
Her heart galloped.
Ever since they’d seen each other again, they’d been trying to act as if their past was behind them. Over.
Friends again. Nothing more.
But she was pretty sure Gabe was as tense and on edge as she was. And now, sitting here all alone in the precious shade, mere feet from each other and yet so far apart, it was as if a lid had been lifted on all the old yearnings. They rekindled in Bella. A thousand times.
Her imagination kicked in, making her think about closing the gap and being held by Gabe. Kissing him. Going wild with him.
Frantically she tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh, yeah, she needed another saying.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ she blurted out.
Not a great choice. Not when she was wishing she could press her face against Gabe’s neck, not caring about their dust or sweat.
Now he was staring at her. And all she could think about was the way things used to be for them and how perfect the world was. Back then.
I mustn’t make the first move. I must NOT make the first move.
The last time she’d made a move on Gabe it had haunted and plagued her ever since, despite having retreated to the far side of the world.
‘Drastic times call for drastic measures,’ Gabe said quietly.
Bella barely heard these words. She was too aware of his hand on her shoulder, of the way he blocked the sun as he leaned into her.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t move as his fingers lightly brushed the side of her jaw, then his lips touched hers.
For a stunned second she was too surprised to react. A feeble part of her brain tried to protest. There was a very good reason why kissing Gabe was a mistake. But already her thought processes were misfiring and she couldn’t come up with a single rationale that said this kiss shouldn’t happen.
Gabe’s shirt smelled of smoke, but she didn’t mind in the least. Hers was smoky, too. Her knee knocked his enamel mug, sending it clattering to the red dirt, but neither of them so much as glanced at it.
Nothing mattered now but the heady sensation of Gabe’s lips on hers, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. Another to her top lip.
His lips were so seductive she couldn’t have pulled away, even if she’d wanted to. It was simply not possible. Not now.
Not when Gabe’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her just where he needed her while he slowly tasted her, while he teased her lips apart with his tongue and claimed her mouth totally, igniting a hot tremble inside her.
This was Gabe, after all, and he was kissing her perfectly, with the assurance of a man who knew her well. Knew her inside out, knew her triumphs and despair, knew especially how she loved to be kissed, starting sleepy and slow in a lazy burn, and steadily building, building . . . till the frantic moment when they scrambled to press close and to crush into each other as their kiss turned deep and molten.
Which was exactly what happened now.
It was so overwhelming Bella might have wept for joy, but she didn’t want to scare Gabe off, didn’t want to waste a precious second on tears.
She’d forgotten that just kissing could be so mind-blowingly sexy. Just being held by Gabe and tasting him. She wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss.