Breakaway Creek. Heather GarsideЧитать онлайн книгу.
if I don't, it's a new experience. Feeding weaners, cleaning up after two men...' Her lips twitched with gentle mockery. 'What more could any girl wish for?'
She didn't miss Luke's grin as he helped himself to the salad.
****
After lunch Luke headed off to do more repairs in the shed.
'Just make yourself at home,' he said. 'Unless you fancy holding a spanner.'
Shelley looked at his grease-stained jeans and shuddered.
'I've just had a shower. I think I'll stay away from the shed.'
She grabbed her laptop from the bedroom and settled into a wicker chair in a cool spot on the veranda. She experienced a moment of panic about the remoteness of her location when she plugged in her USB modem and the connection registered only one bar. To her relief she managed to spend a few hours checking her emails, catching up with news on Facebook and searching fruitlessly on ancestry sites.
She had no real idea how she was going to occupy herself while she was on leave. Perhaps she'd been a bit hasty. What had happened in Brisbane - the shock and humiliation of finding Jason in bed with another woman - had just made her want to escape. And she'd got away fast. In moments of crisis it was still her Mum and Dad she turned to, back home in Rockhampton. Shelley knew she wasn't ready to go back to Brisbane yet, but eight weeks was a long time.
Christmas was coming up too, and once that was over she'd need to go home. She had other friends in Brisbane after all. Her life hadn't revolved around Jason even though they'd been together for more than five years. Looking back, it was obvious now that they'd drifted apart, but that didn't excuse him from cheating on her. She was still stunned by the turn of events. One moment she thought she had her life mapped out, the next ... BAM! She was in limbo.
Jason had kept their flat so she'd need to find somewhere new to live. There was, however, no point in making hasty decisions. She had plenty of time to decide.
Mitch was the first to come in, just before dark.
'Want to help me feed the dogs?'
She jumped up eagerly.
She'd seen the four Border Collie-crosses jump in Mitch's tray-back after lunch, milling excitedly as he drove off to work. Now it was time to shut them back in their pens.
'They wander if we leave them off at night,' he explained. 'Collies tend to be a bit hyperactive, always looking for mischief. They should be kept busy, but we can't do cattle work all the time.'
Shelley stopped to pat the most appealing of the dogs, a little black female with a white muzzle, chest and legs, who sat gazing up at her with dark, trusting eyes. None of them had the long coats she associated with Border Collies, but Mitch explained they'd been bred that way for Australian conditions.
'The long-haired types get their coats full of burrs and they suffer in the heat.'
'So these dogs are bred for the bush? Not like city girls.'
Mitch gave her a quick look.
'Plenty of city girls settle in the bush, but Luke's wife was the exception. Miranda isn't the type to settle anywhere.'
Shelley straightened, surprised at his bitter tone.
'Doesn't sound like you think much of her.' He shook his head.
'She's putting Luke through hell, not letting him have his boys.' His usually affable voice grated like a rusty gate hinge. 'He's only seen them a few times since they left, and it looks like he's got to go to court to get access.'
No wonder Luke looked a bit grim whenever his wife's name was mentioned. Shelley's heart softened.
'That's terrible. I know marriages have their problems, but I've never been able to understand why people don't put the children first. Surely those little boys have a right to know their father.'
'Yeah, they sure do.' Mitch tipped dog biscuits into one of the collie's dishes. 'Luke is a good dad, too. He looked after those boys as much as she did. It was bloody frustrating at times when we had work to do and she took off and left him babysitting.'
Shelley shifted uneasily. Obviously Luke had more things to worry about than some visitor looking up her ancestors. In the circumstances, it was a wonder he could be bothered with her at all. Or perhaps he needed a distraction, just as she did.
When she returned to the house, Luke was in the kitchen, stirring a big pot of minced meat over the stove. The savoury smells of frying beef, garlic and onions reminded her how long it had been since lunch.
'Do you want a hand?'
He turned to smile at her. As long as his absent family wasn't mentioned he seemed relaxed enough. No doubt he was entitled to be prickly in the circumstances.
'You could peel some spuds. I'll throw the rest of the veggies in here, but we like our mashed potato.' He added water to the pot, along with some chopped carrots and cabbage.
'No problem.' Shelley grinned at him. 'Can I help with the weaners again tomorrow? I promise I won't chase them this time.'
'I suppose I'll risk it. I'll show you the old house afterwards.'
****
Lying in the narrow bed later that night reminded Shelley of her room in her parents' place in Rocky. But it was even quieter here, without the occasional hum of traffic and, even at 10 pm, it hadn't cooled down. She got up to turn on the ceiling fan and then leant out the window, looking up at the magnificent night sky. Childhood memories of camping out with her grandfather came rushing back.
The stars! She'd forgotten how extraordinary they could be without city lights competing for attention. Shelley drank in the cloudy haze of the Milky Way and a myriad other twinkling pinpoints, including constellations she'd once been able to identify but could no longer remember, though she easily found the Southern Cross.
She inhaled deeply, enjoying the freshness of the night air. This was something to savour, a memory to take back to the city. Perhaps coming out here was a good thing after all.
****
The next day the weaned calves seemed calmer, approaching the hay feeders even as Shelley cut the netting from the bales. This time she summoned the courage to walk amongst them with Luke. She caught him glancing at her in approval and then wondered why on earth his opinion mattered to her. Once he'd had a chance to speak to his mother, she'd have no excuse to stay any longer. She'd probably never see him again.
The old house looked even more dilapidated at close quarters. The front gate groaned as Luke pushed it open, and he ducked to avoid a hanging branch of spiny bougainvillea. Leaves and seedpods from the bottle tree littered the sagging veranda and rotting steps, the debris of years of neglect.
Luke picked his way with care, carrying the stepladder he'd put in the back of the Toyota that morning. He glanced back at Shelley, indicating a broken step.
'Watch where you put your feet. Don't stand on that one.'
He led the way across the veranda, testing each board before allowing it to take his weight. The door resisted his efforts to open it and he set the ladder down before putting his shoulder to it, forcing a protesting screech from it as he pushed it across the warped floor. Shelley grabbed the ladder and followed him, wrinkling her nose at the musty interior. A rusty sink against the wall and a row of cupboards with peeling paint indicated the room had once been the kitchen. A heavy layer of dust covered everything.
Luke took the ladder from her and led the way into the hall, where he positioned it under the manhole. He looked at her and smiled. He'd shaved the night before and the strong lines of his face looked tantalisingly good.
'Now, for the moment of truth.'
A flutter of anticipation winged through Shelley's stomach.
'Let's hope there's something up there.'
She held the ladder as Luke climbed up and pushed aside the cover. When she found herself admiring