Moonlight Plains (10 page)

Moonlight Plains, 2013

All morning, Luke was on high alert, ready for the first sound of a vehicle, or the first cloud of dust that would signal Sally’s arrival.

She was due around noon and he was totally cool about her visit. At least, he’d assured her he was cool when she’d phoned a few days after their meeting at the nursing home.

‘Are you sure you’re happy to go ahead with this story, Luke? I couldn’t tell if you were serious the other day, or just keeping your grandmother onside.’

‘If you’re still keen to write the piece, then you’re welcome,’ he’d countered.

He could hardly admit that his invitation had been completely impulsive. He’d already made one error of judgement by driving all the way to Townsville on the pretext that the stores there were bigger and better, when in reality, he’d chosen to avoid the increasingly annoying invitations from Kylie at the local hardware store.

Served him right that he’d run straight into a Sally-sized complication.

All it had taken was a glimpse of Sally’s candle-flame hair and delicate air and he hadn’t been able to think straight. Now he was setting himself up for another round of self-torture – being alone with her and knowing he had no choice but to respect her grief and keep his distance.

Luke was genuinely sorry that she was suffering. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to lose her husband. So the sane thing would have been to back right away from her, give her all the time and space she needed.

Instead he’d invited her right back to the scene of her Major Mistake.

Of course, they would both make sure that the mistake wasn’t repeated, but he was nervous when he turned off the noisy Lucas Mill he’d been using to saw planks and heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

His chest tightened as Sally’s car appeared. It was a neat little city sedan in peacock-blue and it looked like a shiny jewel as she pulled up beside his dusty ute. Jess leapt out the minute Sally’s door opened and took off, racing across the dirt, tail wagging like a windscreen wiper on top speed.

Sally was laughing as she climbed out, laughing and heart-stoppingly lovely in green patterned jeans and a coffee-coloured top that made her skin look soft and sensuous.

Luke’s smile was strained as they said ‘Hi’, both careful to make sure no touching was involved.

At least the dog’s overjoyed exploration of fence posts and grass clumps provided a helpful distraction. ‘I think Jess’s in her second childhood,’ Sally said.

‘She’ll find so many smells out here that she probably remembers. Kangaroos, bandicoots, cattle . . .’

‘I guess.’ Sally stood for a moment, shading her eyes as she watched her dog running in ecstatic circles. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘I didn’t take much notice of the garden last time I was here. You’ve been mowing.’

‘Thought I’d better try to get the grass back to something closer to lawn.’

‘It must have been lovely once. Is that a pond over there?’

‘Used to be a lily pond. Apparently my grandfather built it for Kitty.’

Sally smiled. ‘How romantic.’

Then she looked as if she wished she hadn’t said that.

‘Do you need a hand carrying anything?’ Luke said to cover the awkwardness.

‘Um, if you could grab the esky, that’d be great, thanks.’

Sally had insisted on bringing lunch. ‘I hope you like chicken salad,’ she said, lifting the lid to reveal a cling wrap–covered glass bowl filled with dainty pieces of chicken and avocado and cherry tomato halves.

Girl tucker, Luke thought, swallowing a wry grin as he took the esky. ‘Looks terrific.’ He could probably do with a break from corned beef and pickle sandwiches.

Slinging a large canvas bag over her shoulder, Sally looked up at the house. ‘How’s it coming along?’

‘I’m making progress, but you won’t notice any big changes yet. I’ve been mainly tackling the structural work – strengthening the roof beams and the foundations.’

Sally nodded. ‘I guess that’s very important.’ Then she drew such a deep breath that Luke wondered if she might be nervous too.

She looked back again at the sweeping paddocks, the stands of gum trees and the overarching blue sky. ‘Jess’s not the only one who likes the smells out here. There’s a lovely timbery scent.’

‘I’ve been milling cypress this morning.’ He pointed to the sawn timber.

‘Of course. It smells fabulous.’

Luke couldn’t help smiling back at her. He was partial to the smell of cypress, too. There were days when he could quite happily live in a cloud of that woodsy scent. But there was absolutely no point in getting excited about the first tiny thing they had in common.

‘Well, I guess we should get down to business,’ he said.

Determined to be sensible and professional, they’d settled on a lunchtime slot for the interview so they didn’t lose too big a chunk from their working day. They called to the dog and settled her on the verandah with a chewy treat and a bowl of water before they went inside.

Sally made a show of great interest in the new roof beams as they made their way to the kitchen, which now boasted
two
chairs, plus an extra camp table.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said reaching into the bulging shoulder bag. ‘I’m certainly not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I brought a few decorating magazines and brochures from a paint company. I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself. I love dreaming about houses and stuff, and I’ve been collecting these for ages.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Luke thumbed through a magazine with beautiful colour photos of country-style interiors – a simple table topped by an urn of flowers set beside a gauzily curtained window, a spacious white kitchen with views of grazing sheep.

He had a pretty clear vision of what he wanted for this house, but it occurred to him now that it would be all kinds of fun to go through his ideas with Sally, tossing around options.

‘Anyway, lunch first,’ she said, becoming businesslike. ‘I just need to add a dressing to the salad.’

‘Would it be impolite to slap a few rounds of bread on the table?’ Luke asked as he watched her toss her dainty concoction with salad tongs.

‘No need.’ Sally shot him a triumphant grin as she produced bread rolls wrapped in a tea towel. ‘Fresh from the bakery.’ As they made themselves comfortable at the camp table and Luke took his first mouthful, he forgot his hankering for corned beef and pickle sandwiches. Sally had sprinkled the salad with toasted nuts and, combined with the dressing, the flavours were amazing.

‘I think you could convert me to chick food,’ he admitted as he tucked in.

‘Chook food?’

‘
Chick
food. Girl food.’ He gave a guilty grin. ‘Bit of a joke in my family. The guys think every meal should be mostly meat, while the girls seem to love salad. But don’t get me wrong. This is great tucker! I’m loving it.’

‘That’s a relief.’

Sally was smiling again but there was still an awkward awareness between them. It wasn’t easy to pretend that the amazing night in the swag hadn’t happened.

Luke eyed the notebook and pen she’d set beside her on the table. ‘So how does this work . . . your job as a freelance journalist? Is it tricky, having to chase stories all the time?’

‘It can be. Luckily, it’s not my only source of income. I’m actually juggling a few jobs at the moment.’

‘A few?’ Luke frowned as it occurred to him that she might be a widow with money worries. ‘What sort of jobs?’

‘Oh, nothing backbreaking. I work a few days a week as a marketer for a big engineering firm – or at least, it used to be big before the downturn in mining. I was originally full-time, but when they had to reduce staff, I was offered a choice – redundancy, or a part-time job in the head office in Brisbane.’

‘How’d you feel about Brisbane?’

Sally shrugged and looked down at her plate. ‘I couldn’t really consider it. Not when Josh’s job was in Townsville.’

Oh, yeah . . . Josh . . . the husband . . .

Luke fought off an inappropriate desire to envy the poor bastard.

‘Then, when Josh died . . . unexpectedly . . . ’

There was an uneasy pause while she pulled her bun apart.

Luke cleared his throat. ‘Was there an accident?’

‘Yes. A car accident.’ Sally concentrated on spreading a piece of avocado from her salad onto a corner of the bun. ‘The company decided to keep me on after all. I don’t know, I guess they felt sorry for me. But they could only offer me two days a week, so I do casual work for the Townsville newspapers as well. Subbing, advertising features.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s all pretty boring, to be honest. That’s why I really want to do a lot more freelance work. Interesting feature stories.’

‘Like this one?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm. ‘By the way, I pitched this idea to
My Country Home
, and they’re interested. I can’t believe it. I’m so excited. This could be my big break!’

Her bright smile caught Luke like a lasso. Damn it, he almost leapt out of his chair and swept her into his arms.

‘Only too glad to help,’ he said instead.

But what he really should have told her was:
Sorry, this story is a bad idea. This interview is a really bad idea.

He was practically jumping out of his skin with lust.

‘I’ll make us some coffee, he muttered, leaping to his feet and grabbing the kettle. ‘And feel free to fire away with your questions.’

A spurt of excitement fluttered through Sally as she opened her notebook to a clean page and picked up her pen. She loved gathering material and making notes and looking for leads. At this point, every story brimmed with possibilities.

‘I think I’d like to start with talking about you,’ she said. ‘The human angle. I can focus on other details later.’

‘So . . . what do you want to know?’

Luke’s smile had a cute little-boy quality and Sally was momentarily distracted.

‘Um . . . ’ Hastily, she dropped her gaze to her as-yet empty page. ‘Number one, I guess, is why this project’s important to you.’

‘Well, you already know about the family connection.’

‘Yes, but do you have a more personal interest?’

Luke nodded. ‘I guess I’m trying to prove something. I’ve worked for other builders and I helped a mate to knock up an extension. But that’s way out where my family lives in the Gulf Country. This is my first chance to work solo, and on a homestead that isn’t too isolated.’

‘Does that mean you’re hoping more people will see this? You’d like it to showcase your work?’

Luke nodded. ‘If all goes well.’

‘And it will.’

Their gazes connected and Sally quickly looked down at her notes again. ‘Can you remember when you first became interested in building and carpentry?’

He seemed to give this some thought as he set two mugs on the counter and spooned in instant coffee, and she found herself leaning forward, genuinely curious.

‘I guess I’ve always had a go at making things,’ he said. ‘Even as a little kid, I was always building stuff. Tree houses, forts, go-karts, even laying boxes for our hens.’

He gave a small, self-deprecating shrug. ‘Most of the early stuff was pretty shonky. My granddad – Andy – was a builder and he used to lecture me. You know, the usual things . . . if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well, et cetera.’

‘From what I’ve seen of your work, the message must have sunk in.’

The compliment was spontaneous, but as soon as she said it, Sally was conscious of a new level of awareness between them.

‘Well, sure,’ Luke said, frowning. ‘There’s no value in just knocking something together and tarting it up with a coat of paint. You’ve got make sure you get it right the first time. You need to make something that’ll last.’

She was scribbling madly to get everything down, but she couldn’t help thinking as she did so that there was something very appealing about a man who wanted to make things to last.

Her mind flashed to Josh, her cute, dreamy, romantic Josh, who’d never wanted to plan for their future and who certainly hadn’t wanted to talk about houses. Looking back, Sally had to admit there’d always been a Peter Pan quality about him, almost as if he’d been avoiding growing up.

Sometimes she wondered why he’d been prepared to get married. In her darkest moments, she worried that he’d plunged into marriage to secure his place in the law firm where her mother was a partner.

‘Do you take your coffee the same as your tea?’ Luke asked. ‘White with one?’

Sally murmured her thanks, and as Luke brought their mugs over and sat down again he looked
almost
at ease, with an ankle propped on a knee.

‘My granddad used to be pretty tough on me, making sure I got things right,’ Luke said, looking down at the mug in his hands. ‘I thought I’d never live up to his standards. But then –’ Luke swallowed. ‘When he died, he left me his toolbox. It’s no big deal, but . . . ’

Across the table, their gazes met and something in the green depths of Luke’s eyes made Sally’s heart stumble.

‘So, what’s the next question?’ he asked quietly.

She felt as if he’d opened a door, showing her something deeply important to him, and it took her a shade too long to gather her wits. ‘Okay . . . let’s see . . .’ She hoped that the warmth in her cheeks didn’t show. ‘I guess I’d like to hear about the renovations. Have there been any surprises so far?’

‘You mean apart from the snakes?’

‘Eww.’ Sally shuddered. ‘What sort of snakes?’

‘Carpet pythons. Brown tree snakes. And I found a family of tiny bats about the size of your thumb coming out of some pipes.’

‘I guess they’d be cute.’ Sally glanced at the prepared questions in her notes. ‘I imagine . . . when you’re working with your hands and working with timber, it must be quite a sensory experience.’

Why on earth had she thought
that
was a good topic?

‘I – I mean . . . we’ve already talked about the scent of the newly sawn cypress. Is – is there anything else . . . about working with your han– with timber, that is?’

Crikey, she was making a hash of this.

Leaning back in his chair, Luke rubbed at the grainy shadow on his jaw and Sally found herself mesmerised by his broad hand. Everything about him was so
very
masculine.