Moonlight Plains (21 page)

Laura’s enthusiasm for Australia went into a sharp decline as soon as she hit the outback. Sydney had been wonderful. Once she’d recovered from her initial jetlag, she’d had a fabulous few days in a harbourside hotel.

She’d found the harbour itself jaw-droppingly beautiful and her artist’s eye had hungrily devoured the dazzle of sunlight on water, the visual drama of the opera house, the pleasing curve of the bridge against a clear blue Australian sky. Sydney was different enough from Boston to be exotic, and yet familiar enough for her to feel comfortable and safe.

This trip marked the first time she’d travelled on her own and it had taken a little getting used to, but she’d quickly appreciated how liberating it was to have no one but herself to please. She could sleep in, take a ferry ride to Manly on a whim, spend an entire morning wandering around the historic Rocks district, visit any art gallery she chose without anyone whining at her to hurry up, and she could choose to eat wherever and whatever she liked.

Best of all, being a woman of a certain age, she was more or less invisible. No one stared at her because she was sitting alone in a cafe, and, rather than feeling lonely, Laura found this new independence empowering.

From Sydney she’d flown north to Townsville, where she’d spent a night in another hotel room with another lovely water view. She’d studied the attractively landscaped beachfront and the island floating serenely in the calm tropical waters and tried, unsuccessfully, to imagine what the place had been like in 1942. Then she’d hired a car, a small sedan, and headed somewhat nervously west towards Moonlight Plains.

Laura had never driven off into the unknown before and there was nothing about the landscape she encountered now that made her feel comfortable. She soon realised this had not been her brightest idea. Her notion of the Australian outback had been based almost entirely on vague memories of movies, and she’d expected leafy eucalypt forests or red-dirt plains with dramatic canyons, beautiful waterfalls and pretty lagoons that were home to waterbirds.

Instead, a thin ribbon of blue bitumen stretched across harsh sunburned grazing land with barbed-wire fences, straggly clumps of gum trees and stubbled grass that was nowhere near green. Most disturbing, however, was the lack of stores or villages; there was just the occasional gas station or drab and dusty homestead.

Laura knew it was weak and foolish of her, but she couldn’t help wishing she was safely back in Massachusetts with its old stone farmhouses, neat red barns, rolling green fields and orchards.

By the time she passed through the town of Charters Towers, following Luke Fairburn’s directions, and continued on through more of the same dry, grey-green bush towards Moonlight Plains, she was very much regretting her decision to embark on this venture.

She supposed that, for some people, this landscape might hold a certain rugged beauty, but right now she found it menacing. Distressingly so.

Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? She didn’t even really know what she would say when she met Luke or Kitty. She’d brought gifts – Red Sox jerseys, pretty Yankee candles and finely woven Nantucket baskets – hoping they would be appropriate. Beyond that, she was winging this visit. Now, as a sign pointing off the main road to Moonlight Plains appeared on her right, she felt scarily under-rehearsed.

The track ahead of her was downright creepy, hardly more than wheel ruts in the dirt with rough grass in between that scraped at the belly of her little car. Even though it was still early afternoon, the bush closed in too, with tall skinny gum trees and tangled scrub crowding to the edge of the track and cutting out the sunlight.

Oh, God.
Laura had no idea where she was going. She couldn’t imagine how her father could have flown all the way out here. And why had Kitty been in such wild country?

What on earth did I think I was going to learn? Surely this is all a terrible mistake.

Apart from Luke’s brief letter, which was pleasant enough, Laura had no idea what the contemporary Fairburns or Mathiesons were actually like. They could be hillbillies for all she knew and now, too late, she envisaged being served kangaroo stew or roasted crocodile. She felt sick. Scared.

A moment later she was shaking and dizzy and she had no choice but to stop the car.

In the middle of the narrow track, with no place to turn around, she cut the motor and clung to the steering wheel as her heart pounded and panic took hold.

I can’t do this. I was crazy to come here.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw her white face, the very real fear in her eyes. Madly, she wished she could wind back time, find herself in Boston rewriting the script of her fateful conversation with Amy.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply and evenly in a bid to calm down.

From somewhere behind her there was a growl of a motor and before she could gather her wits to start up her car, a pickup truck came hurtling around a bend in the track and pulled to an abrupt, noisy halt behind her.

In the mirror, Laura watched the pickup’s passenger door open. A young woman jumped out and she caught an impression of long legs in tight jeans, a mane of long tawny hair.

‘Hello?’ the new arrival called as she came towards Laura.

Her voice sounded friendly enough and Laura gratefully pressed the button to make her window descend.

‘Is everything okay?’ The girl’s smile was as warm as her voice and she was pretty, with a healthy, outdoors glow about her.

Laura said shakily, ‘I was looking for Moonlight Plains.’

‘Well, you’re on the right track.’

‘That’s good news at least. I was beginning to wonder.’

Now the girl’s smile widened. ‘You’re American!’

‘Well, yes.’

Her eyes widened with sudden excitement. ‘You must be the pilot’s daughter.’

‘Yes, that’s me.’ If Laura had been calmer, she might have been amused to hear herself described that way.

‘Oh, wow.’ The girl extended her hand through the open window. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Bella. Bella Mitchell, Kitty Mathieson’s granddaughter. I believe Kitty knew your father when he was here.’

‘Yes, that seems to be the case.’ Laura was scanning the girl’s face, wondering if Kitty had looked as pretty as this when his father met her.

‘We’re over the moon that you’ve come all this way.’

Really? ‘Thank you. I’m Laura. How – how nice to meet you, Bella.’

‘Gabe – that’s my husband – and I have just been into the Towers for a few extra supplies.’ Bella straightened up and looked ahead down the track. ‘You haven’t too far to go now, but this track’s pretty rough, isn’t it?’

Laura nodded. ‘I – I’ve never driven on anything like this before.’

‘Would you be happier if we led the way?’

Laura imagined trying to move her little car to the side of the narrow track so that the truck could squeeze past her. Surely it was impossible. ‘But there’s no room.’

‘That’s okay. These trees are only saplings and Gabe has a bull bar on the front. He can bush-bash.’

Bush-bash?
Laura had no idea what this meant.

Bella grinned. ‘Just sit tight here till we’re ahead of you. And you’ll want to keep back out of our dust.’ She lifted a hand to wave. ‘See you up at the homestead.’

Puzzled, Laura sat tight as instructed, reminding herself that weirder things must have happened to her father when he was out here. Once again, she watched in the rear-view mirror as Bella leapt nimbly up into the truck and spoke to the man behind the wheel. Moments later, the truck turned off the track and into the bush.

Dodging and ducking any larger trees, it simply ploughed through the skinny saplings and scrub, knocking them over like matchsticks and, within minutes, it was bouncing onto the track ahead of her.

Fancy that.

‘Welcome to Australia,’ Laura murmured, and she realised she was smiling.

Luke had been holding his breath for days. At least that was what it had felt like and yet, incredibly, everything seemed to be coming together now. The house was finished and looking pretty damn good, if he did say so himself. The beds were made up and ready for the house guests. The dance floor and the extra tables, the chairs, glasses and crockery had arrived. Zoe was ensconced in the kitchen with Sally and Sally’s friend Megan, who were happy to be kitchen hands.

Of course, whenever Luke thought about Sally, he felt a hitch in his breathing. By far the hardest moment of this entire exercise had been her arrival this morning. It had nearly killed him to stick to the plan to keep their relationship under the radar.

Sally had arrived in a truck with Megan and a guy called Toby, and she’d introduced them as her best friends. Actually, Luke had learned later that they’d been best man and chief bridesmaid at Sally and Josh’s wedding, and that in itself had been sobering.

Sal had looked gorgeous, of course, even though she was only wearing jeans and a singlet top. It was torture to greet her politely as she jumped down from the truck, shaking her hand with no more warmth or enthusiasm than he greeted her friends. All he’d wanted to do was to race her off to a secluded corner and haul her in, with her sweet curves hard against him while they lost themselves in a hot, wild kiss.

Unsurprisingly, he’d found himself questioning why he’d deemed it so damned important to throw his family off their scent. His mob had seen him with girls before and Sally’s appearance at his side wouldn’t have signalled anything serious. So why had he been so anxious to protect her?

The only rational explanation arrived some time later when he saw Sally in the kitchen squeezing lemons for a dessert that Zoe was making. Sally was concentrating hard, frowning as she rotated a lemon this way and that, and for a moment he could see her as a little girl, trying hard to please her teacher or her mother, and his heart swelled so that it seemed to fill his chest. For a moment there he couldn’t breathe.

It was then he knew – the way he felt about Sally was totally different from how he’d felt about any other girl he’d dated. And it wasn’t just because she was a widow.

She’d got under his skin, into his heart. Damn it, it was possible –
drum roll
– he’d fallen in love.

Right at this moment, with everyone getting ready to party, it was both a happy and a scary discovery.

It didn’t help that Sally was playing her part really well. There was no special smile for him. No lingering eye contact. How he missed that sparkle in her lovely dark eyes, the private look just for him.

For the duration of the party, he was condemned to constant awareness of Sally’s whereabouts without making any close contact. He was like an amputee who could still feel his missing limb.

And the only person he could blame was himself.

The track widened, opening onto grassland. Ahead of Laura, beyond Bella and Gabe’s truck, she saw a paddock where several vehicles were parked and tents were being erected. Beyond that, on a stretch of mowed lawn, stood a scattering of trestle tables and chairs, and what looked like a temporary dance floor. And then, providing a gracious backdrop to the whole inviting scene, the timber homestead gleamed with fresh white paint in the bright outback sun.

So this is it, Dad. I’m here. What now?

What came next for Laura was a warm welcome from a host of friendly strangers. First, Luke, tall and big-shouldered, with laughing green eyes and sun-bleached tips to his light-brown hair, came forward, extending a huge hand.

‘Great to meet you at last. We’re honoured that you’ve come such a long way.’ He shook her hand firmly without crushing it. ‘You must be dying for a cuppa. Come inside and stow your things. Here, let me carry your bags.’

‘I feel very privileged,’ she said as Luke showed her to a pretty room with a double bed and a long view through French doors across sweeping paddocks. ‘Most of your guests seem to be camping outside.’

Luke merely grinned. ‘We wouldn’t do that to you. The others are used to camping out and they love it.’

Laura met Luke’s uncles, aunts, cousins and sisters, and assorted children, all of them pleasant and friendly. Apparently Kitty hadn’t arrived yet, she was being driven from Townsville by her daughter, Virginia. Laura found herself waiting on tenterhooks.

Luke was called away to the phone – something to do with a band – and a young woman with glossy dark curls called Zoe asked Laura if she’d prefer tea or coffee. In what seemed like no time Zoe was back on the verandah with a tray laden with a coffee pot, sugar and cream and a small plate piled with squares of perfect-looking shortbread.

‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ Laura exclaimed, and she meant it sincerely.

On the shady verandah she was able to unwind a little, chatting with Luke’s aunts, who explained that they both lived on cattle properties further to the west. She answered their polite enquiries about her journey from Boston and what she hoped to see in Australia, and while they talked, a game started in the paddock – Laura was told it was cricket.

She couldn’t make head or tail of the rules, but children and adults and a couple of dogs all played together and they seemed to be having a swell time, with plenty of laughter and lots of shouting when the batter got out, or yells of frustration when the dogs refused to surrender the ball.

Another pickup truck arrived in a swirl of dust, with rolled-up bedding piled in the back. The pickup was called a ute, Laura was told, and the sleeping gear was called a swag. After the party, the young people would probably sleep out in the open under the stars. Laura wondered what that was like. While it sounded adventurous and fun in theory, she wasn’t sure she’d like the reality.

‘Don’t they worry about snakes?’ She had to ask.

But the others simply laughed and shrugged.

‘On a cold clear night, there’s nothing better,’ one of the women, who had to be past fifty, assured her.

Then there was a shout from Luke. ‘Gran’s almost here!’

To Laura’s surprise, everyone reacted. The cricketers, the tent erectors, the people working in the kitchen or setting out chairs all seemed to stop what they were doing and congregate at the front of the house to welcome the vehicle that could now be heard coming down the track.