Red Dust Dreaming (5 page)

Nevertheless, a Central Park was not the same thing as the Outback. This great vast land threatened to swallow a person up. Elizabeth looked skyward and gasped in pleasure at the streaks of brilliant colour now stretching to the horizon. Sunset. Shades of intense purples, yellows, oranges and pinks lit up the sky while the dark red earth provided the perfect foil. How she wished she'd brought her paints or a sketch book or something. She couldn't remember the last time she'd drawn anything and now, suddenly, her fingers itched to hold a pastel or a brush.

The screen door slammed and she spun around, heart beating too fast. “Oh! It's you.” She almost crumpled with relief at the sight of Thelma bearing what looked like a glass of wine.

“Figured you could use this. You've picked a nice spot to watch the sunset.” Thelma handed her the glass, beads of condensation glistening in the half light.

“Thank you.” She took the wine and sipped carefully. The fruity notes swelled against her tongue sending a ripple of pleasure through her body. “That's lovely!”

“You're welcome.” Thelma turned to go back inside the house.

“Wait! Please join me, that is if you have a moment,” Elizabeth said shyness gripping her. She needed an ally in this godforsaken place and Thelma had offered her kindness when no one else had, like Caden Carlyle for instance. To her relief Thelma sat down in the chair next to hers.

“So… how long have you been working here?” Elizabeth asked after an awkward silence.

“Forever!” Thelma flicked the tea towel she carried at a passing fly. “I worked for Caden's mother when she first came here as a young bride. She's moved to the coast now. Then I retired and Angela took over. I'm only filling in until Caden can find a suitable replacement. He's as good as family to me.”

“Then you've known Caden forever, too.”

Thelma regarded her with shrewd eyes. “He can be difficult when he gets a bee in his bonnet. You have to remember he regards the boy as a son, been with him since the day he was born. Luke never knew his own father, but you know that already.”

Elizabeth ran her finger along the side of her glass, catching the droplets of condensation before they had a chance to get far. “You'd be surprised at how little I do know. After high school Angela and I had drifted apart. She married quickly and I never saw her after that.”

Thelma nodded. “Married a man your Ma didn't approve of.”

“Something like that. You have to understand, my mother is of Mayflower stock — the first Puritans to settle in America — and that makes her…”

“A snob,” Thelma finished.

Elizabeth let out a laugh despite herself. “Exactly! But what I was going to say was it makes her difficult and exacting. She's got these standards nobody can reach, at least I've never met the person who can. There is always this idea we have to maintain a good example because of our ancestors.”

Thelma snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Sounds like a bunch of bunkum to me. I'm sure those pilgrims of yours weren't so perfect.” She put her hands on her knees and hefted herself up out of the chair. “Now if you've got nothing else you'd rather do I could use a hand in the kitchen.

“I'd love to help!” She stood up and brushed the creases out of her shorts with one hand, cradling the empty wine glass in the other. “I have to warn you I'm not much of a cook but I do take instruction well.”

“Then we're going to get along fine.” Thelma shot her a wink.

Kirrkalan's kitchen was a cheery place with butter yellow walls and furniture that could have walked out of a 1950's catalogue. It was the kind of place Elizabeth expected to find something roasting in the oven and freshly iced cupcakes for dessert. Thelma sat her down at the big wooden kitchen table, giving her a bowl of scrubbed potatoes and a peeler. She absorbed her thoughts into peeling the potatoes in one long continuous peel, failing more often than she achieved her objective.

Deeply delicious smells began to waft from the oven. Thelma had a beef casserole on the cook and Elizabeth imagined great chunky pieces of meat and vegetable simmering away in some magical sauce. Her stomach growled in approval. She wondered if Angela cooked as well as Thelma seemed to.

“Was my sister close to Caden?” The question escaped her lips almost the second her brain formed it. She blushed as her most secret thoughts became public.

Thelma didn't seem to notice, not looking up from where she worked a pastry base. “Close as kin those two.”

“You know, I have no idea how Angela came to be here.” Elizabeth threw the statement out casually like bait to a fish hoping Thelma would take the bite. She did.

“Mrs. Carlyle met her on a bus trip across the United States, as I remember it.”

“My sister was on a bus trip?” Elizabeth blinked, unable to imagine Angela riding on a bus. They'd been driven everywhere as children. Public transport gave her mother the horrors.

“No, silly. Mrs. Carlyle was on the bus trip and Angela was working in some roadside diner or something. I can't remember the details.” Thelma rolled her pastry flat with a long practice moved, the rolling pin an extension of her arms. “Before we knew it Angela was here with us, belly big with Luke.”

“Didn't anyone mind that she was pregnant? I mean, it must have impacted her ability to work.” Elizabeth blushed again. Her words sounded harsh to her own ears.

“Not at all. It was clear to the lot of us this was a girl in pain.” Thelma lifted the sheet of pastry and lowered it carefully in the pie tin. “So young and already a widow with a little ‘un on the way. No family to take care of her.” Did she imagine it or did Thelma's canny gaze shoot in her direction? “I was getting ready to retire but I was happy to stay on until Angela was on her feet. Such a sweet girl and Luke was the perfect baby.” Thelma picked up the pie tin in one hand, brandishing a knife in the other. With several quick slices she removed the excess pastry so it nestled snugly in its tin, carefully pressing the edges of the pie with a fork to seal the crust. “Luke was just what this house needed.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I'm sure he was a beautiful baby.”

Thelma popped the pie crust in the oven, letting the door bang as she shut it. “You don't know the half of it. I've got some photos somewhere I'll dig out if you're interested.” She wiped her hands on her apron, ready for the next task.

“I'd love that. We… I… Angela didn't stay in touch.”

“Yeah, I know. Seems your Ma and Pa gave her a pretty hard time about her choice of husband.”

Elizabeth sighed. “My mother thought Angela married beneath her. She had visions of a society wedding to some blueblood stockbroker. Angela couldn't have cared less for all of that.”

Thelma brought a big two-handled saucepan over to the table and began to load the peeled potatoes into it. “So what about you? Why aren't you married to a blueblood stockbroker?”

“Who says I'm not?” Elizabeth asked indignantly. Was ‘unmarried spinster' branded on her forehead?

“No wedding ring for a start,” said Thelma as she hefted the pot off the table and carried over to the stove.

“Oh.” Elizabeth examined her hands. Of course, no ring. “I guess I've never met anyone I've liked enough to get married to.”

“Liked? Is that so?” Thelma gave a chuckle as the sound of the front door banging open echoed down the corridor. “Sounds like someone is home.”

Next moment Luke careened into the kitchen, all coltish arms and legs. His hair stood up every which way and there was a streak of dirt across his cheek. He skidded to a halt next to her chair.

“Aunty Elizabeth, did you have a nice nap?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at the dishevelled, happy little boy.

“Thelma, Caden asked me to ask you if I have time for a shower before tea.” Luke turned his attention away from Elizabeth leaving her bereft, as if the sun suddenly ceased to shine.

“If you make it a quick one.”

“I will, I promise.” He turned to go before coming up short, remembering something he needed to say. “Aunty Elizabeth, I ate your scone while you were asleep. I'm sorry.”

“That's okay Luke. I was full anyway.” She held out her hand as if he was a skittish foal and he stood perfectly still while she ruffled his hair. Then he was off, dashing deeper into the house, shouting indistinguishable words as he went.

“Well, don't use all the hot water!” came the deep voiced reply. Caden! A tremor ran through her at the thought of him standing only feet away, a thin wall all that separated them. She kept her eyes downcast, staring at the table top as if the image of the Virgin Mary has suddenly appeared there. And how she wished it would! Anything to distract him from being angry at her, or worse, contemptuous.

He stopped in the door way, the last rays of the sun struck him in such a way he reminded her of a long-gone cowboy from a sepia toned photograph. Then he turned his head and looked at her, square in the eye. She was rooted to the spot. This must be how deer felt when caught in headlights. Helpless, exposed, vulnerable. He nodded once before moving away and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she held.

Dinnertime at Kirrkalan had been lively ever since Caden could remember. Tonight's meal progressed awkwardly with Luke holding the floor, regaling Elizabeth with stories of the property and his schooling. Caden watched her openly. She did a good job of appearing entertained. This was his house, his boy. He needed to know what kind of woman wanted to take Luke away. Was she good enough to walk in Angela's shoes?

He took a bite of Thelma's legendary apple pie, still steaming, ice cream melting slowly over the chunks of cinnamon-infused fruit. As he chewed he ran through every conversation he'd ever had with Angela about her family. About the parents he was clear — horrible, neglectful, focused elsewhere. On the sister he wasn't so sure. Angela had rarely mentioned her which was strange come to think about it. Perhaps they hadn't been close.

Elizabeth sat next to Luke, almost demure, folded in on herself, revealing very little of her thoughts. She possessed a fragility her sister hadn't as if raised in a hot house, protected from the elements. Angela had been a hearty, robust girl. Strong until her illness and even then she fought with the heart of a lioness. Angela hadn't been frustrating or the kind to deliberately take a man's words the wrong way. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had an infuriating otherworldly manner he couldn't get to grips with. She'd only been here five minutes but he was already sure she wouldn't pass muster.

She laughed at something Luke said, throwing her head back to reveal the long slender column of her throat. Her skin, pale in the over-bright kitchen light, offered temptation to a man. Even though he preferred his women dark-haired and feisty he could not deny the allure of this blonde, rarefied New Yorker. He could stretch his imagination to what lay beneath the buttoned up exterior, the way her linen shirt skimmed her breasts hinted at the delights beneath. He swallowed hard. No point letting his thoughts carry on in that direction. Elizabeth Langtree was officially the enemy and he better not forget it.

“I don't think I want to go to New York, Aunt Elizabeth.” Luke spoke with all the solemnity a five year old boy could muster. “It's smelly.”

“Oh, darling! It's not smelly at all,” said Elizabeth, capturing his small hand in hers. Her smile warm.

“Can you guarantee that?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Elizabeth looked up at him, startled at the aggression lacing his voice. He heard it too and he couldn't take it back. “I'm sure parts of it could be smelly like… the garbage dump for instance.” She returned her attention to Luke as if he'd never spoken. “All garbage dumps everywhere in the world stink.”

Luke nodded. “I've never seen one but I can imagine them all being stinky.”

“We just stay away from the stinky parts of town. Easy fix.” Elizabeth sat back with a triumphant smile on her face as if her simple answer was all it took. Caden gripped his hands together under the table, not daring to say a single word. She thought she could swan in here and dazzle Luke? He was an Outback kid, not so easily impressed.

“I still don't think I could live in New York. There is no room for horses and I need my horse Aunty Elizabeth.” Caden smiled encouragement at the boy. Go get ‘em tiger!

“Who told you that?” Elizabeth's eyes went straight to Caden who stared back at her stony faced. He'd never admit to anything, not even if she tortured with those stunning legs. “There are horses in New York City. Your mummy and I used to ride all the time when we were kids. We can go horse riding anytime you like.”

“Can I have my own horse?”

“Sure. We can work something out.” She looked sideways from beneath her long blonde fringe. Something was up. Ms. Langtree wasn't as confident as she sounded. He stored the knowledge away for later when he might need it.

Luke didn't appear to be encouraged by her response either. He sat looking at the table cloth as if he expected the little ducks embroidered on it to come to life. At last he spoke. “The real reason I don't want to live in New York,” he said, his voice low and soft, “is because Grandpa and Grandma would lock me up in a school far far away just like they did my Mummy.” He sniffed as a big tear rolled slowly down his face. Caden's heart cracked and he longed to stride around to the other side of the table, gather Luke in his arms and hug him tight.

She looked to him with a wild uncertainty before dropping to her knees beside Luke's chair. Gently she brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed the one little tear making its way down his cheek. Then she hugged him tight. He burrowed in, throwing his arms around her neck and snuggling close while sobs wracked his tiny body. “No one is going to lock you up in a nasty old school. I'll make sure of that, I promise. Okay?”