The House On Burra Burra Lane (30 page)

‘I’m leaving,’ he said. He spun her in front of him, shunted her to the door of the car. ‘And you’re coming with me.’

She flung her body into his chest and jabbed an elbow into his ribs. Hard. Sharp. He grunted, crunched over a little. She turned quickly and grabbed his jacket collar. She braced, lifted her knee, heard her skirt tear at the seam and aimed her kneecap at his groin.

But he wasn’t there. She stumbled back, empty-handed.

Ethan’s coat billowed like sails in a high seas wind as he swung Oliver away, his hands fisted in the suit jacket. ‘I told you to get your hands off her.’

Oliver fought, kicking his legs, but his balance was gone. Ethan lifted him off his feet and propelled him through the air. Then Oliver’s body hit the ground with a thud, Ethan standing astride him, fists still bunched in his jacket. ‘You should have listened the first time.’

Oliver’s face was a mask of shock, mouth open, eyes gaping.

Ethan straightened, stared at Sammy. His features were set, eyes midnight-ink, the skin on his cheeks taut.

Sammy blinked, gulped a breath.

Oliver clutched his shoulder, tried to sit. Ethan swivelled, put a foot on his throat, pushed him down, and turned his attention back to Sammy. ‘You didn’t tell me the truth.’ His voice was hushed, pained.

Sammy trembled. ‘What?’

‘About what he did to you. You should have told me. I would have done something about it.’

She shook her head, incredulous. ‘Like what? He didn’t … it’s not what you think. I didn’t lie.’ Was this how hysteria felt? This dizzy sensation, with sickness rising? She laughed. Couldn’t push it down. ‘Fine time to discuss the lack of trust we have in each other. The whole town knows now.’ She swiped the hat from her head. There was no anonymity needed. Everyone knew, had painted their own pictures about her past.

Ethan turned, picked Oliver up by his jacket and dragged him down the street like he was hauling a dead carcass.

Sammy shot a glance at the people standing outside the Bar & Grill, beer bottles in hand, crushed together at the walkway railing, shoulder to shoulder, primed and attentive. Her friends and neighbours: Mary Munroe and her husband, Josh Rutherford, Julia and her boyfriend, Frank, Mrs Johnson, Grandy … There were more faces at the window, bodies pressed to get a better look. The doorway was crowded with others, young Mr Morelly at the front, mashing his top-plate.

Ignore the shame
. Ethan was ignoring them, but his town was ringing with anticipation. The solitary man had drawn his stockwhip, raised it high and brought it down for a fight.

Sammy forced a deep breath, held it, let it go. This wasn’t a Banjo Patterson poem about the pioneer days, this was happening. Now.

She scrambled her fingers through her hair, forgetting she’d coerced it into a French knot that morning—it loosened from its clips, tumbling in wavy strands over her shoulders. She yanked the remaining pins from her hair and let it have its freedom with a shake of her head.

She was in the middle of a live performance. God only knew what the next scene would be or how the audience would react to it, but she was in it.

She followed Ethan.

Verity stood by the car, holding the open door as though to prop herself up.

‘Mrs Walker?’ Ethan pushed Oliver behind him.

Verity nodded. ‘This is very embarrassing. I’m sorry for the trouble we’ve caused.’

‘Mother, it’s too late for that.’

‘Do you have a bag?’ Ethan asked Verity.

Verity nodded again. ‘In the boot.’

Ethan didn’t let go of Oliver as he bent inside the driver’s side of the car, touched the remote still in the ignition which released the boot, and dragged Oliver to the rear of the vehicle.

‘Who is this man?’ Verity asked Sammy.

Sammy didn’t answer, was too engrossed in Ethan. She’d known him calm and reasonable, not blazing the trail like this. An electric thrill shuddered through her. Dear God—what an awful time to be swamped with sensuality.

Ethan placed Verity’s overnight suitcase on the pavement and thrust Oliver into the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition. The engine fired. He grabbed Oliver by the scruff of his neck, forcing his head back and up.

Oliver snarled, eyes glaring.

Ethan leaned closer. ‘You won’t see me coming next time either. And if you come after that paperwork—I’ll be right here waiting for you.’ He let Oliver go with a force that shook the car. He stepped back and slammed the door. ‘Drive.’

The hire car faltered forwards, turned in a chaotic U-turn and made its way to the B&B, then around the bend. The tail-lights wavered a moment longer in the dusk, then disappeared.

Ethan took Verity’s arm, her suitcase in his other hand, and led her down the northern end of the street.

Sammy followed.

The B&B owners were at the door, undoubtedly warned by the ruckus outside their home, and by the cheering of the people from Kookaburra’s.

Ethan nodded. ‘A room for the night, please, for Mrs Walker.’

Mr Capper left the safety of his doorway looking like he’d been smacked in the face with a live, wriggling fish. He took Verity’s suitcase. ‘No problem, Ethan. Of course Mrs Walker can have a room with us.’

Verity looked at Sammy.

‘You’ll be fine here, Mother.’ Her voice trembled as much as her legs. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll sort things out then. Get you home.’

Verity looked like she’d been slapped with a dead fish. Her mouth was pressed so grimly Sammy knew every thought in her head was turning from fearful to sour.

‘This is the most embarrassing situation I have ever been in.’ She stepped towards Sammy. ‘I will never understand you, Samantha, and I will never … ’

Ethan took hold of her elbow. Verity looked up at him. He towered above her, and he looked like he was struggling to contain his polite expression. He blinked, moistened his mouth and circled a shoulder.

‘Mrs Walker.’ He led her to the door. ‘This is Mr and Mrs Capper, they own the B&B. Good people.’ He turned Verity gently to face him. ‘Let me give you some advice before you speak again.’

Verity blinked, but didn’t shrug her arm from Ethan’s hold.

‘You’re welcome in town, and you’ll be looked after. You have nothing to fear from anyone. But if you make trouble for your daughter, you’ll answer to me.’

Her mother took a deep breath at the same time Sammy did. The first show of unity either had made in a lifetime.

Mr and Mrs Capper hadn’t taken their eyes off Ethan, were obviously as gripped by the happenings in their town as Sammy and the rest of the townspeople were; some of whom had wandered along the walkway—getting a closer look, a better ear on what was going on.

‘Who are you in this town?’ Verity asked Ethan.

‘It’s not who I am, it’s who your daughter is. This is the town where your daughter lives. This is the town where Sammy Walker is respected and admired. Do I make myself clear?’

Verity had the guts to stare Ethan in the eye. ‘I have little choice, it seems.’

‘The choice is yours, Mrs Walker.’ Ethan released Verity’s arm. The look of steadfastness on his face told everyone that Verity would answer to him if she made the wrong choice. ‘Goodnight.’ He nodded, and made his way down the path.

Sammy stared up at him as he passed her. ‘Ethan.’

He ignored her.

She swung around to see her mother being taken inside, but the front door didn’t close. Mr and Mrs Capper stayed put in the doorway, Verity between them. Sammy didn’t blame them for waiting to see what happened next. This tale had taken a turn she’d never expected.

She followed Ethan, caught up with him at the end of the front lawn. ‘Please, Ethan.’ She touched his arm. ‘Everyone’s watching. Let’s do this privately now. Let’s go to your ute. We can talk.’

Ethan studied her. ‘You look tired.’

She took it as a sign he’d do as she asked, and sighed her relief. ‘It’s been a long day. Let’s go to your ute.’

He shook his head. He turned from her.

‘Will you drive me home? We can talk on the way.’

‘Got something I need to do.’

Was he refusing to take her home? She looked around, bathed in a pool of streetlight and indecision. He’d walked away from her—but she’d been the one to shun him, to refuse to answer his messages. Even the one that had made her heart bleed, when he’d said he just wanted to make everything better for her. She hadn’t answered
any
of his messages. She’d shucked him off when he’d wanted to talk this morning and now he was repaying her for her callous behaviour and everyone was seeing it.

She hadn’t wanted to hear his words, his explanations, his apologies. It was typical of him to wait. Why hadn’t she given him the time he needed? He would have done that for her. She’d got uppity, thinking only about herself and her poor, sorry heart. She’d forced this week’s stand-off. Then she’d refused him when he’d found her this morning at the bus stop.

Had Kate had been right? Had he been trying to forget his ludicrous concerns and make a life with her?

‘Ethan, wait.’

He kept walking.

F
or God’s sake, he had the stride of three men!

‘Ethan,’ Sammy called, her voice sounding as sharp as her mother’s.

He didn’t stop.

She stomped after him, her high heels wobbling from the pressure of the pace she set. She’d hurt him in the worst way. By the disgraceful display of the people she’d brought into his town and by her own actions.

Her arms ached to hide him from the townspeople and their gossip. To suffocate the embarrassment he must be feeling—if she could catch him.

Thirty or more people stood outside Kookaburra’s, waiting for him, watching him.

He took the stairs from the street to the walkway two at a time. The crowd stepped back when he halted in front of them, taller than all of them.

Sammy hitched her skirt above her knees, pulled her shoes off, threw them to the ground and ran.

Grandy made his way through the crowd at the Bar & Grill, but he didn’t stop at Ethan, didn’t even look at him. He came down the steps as Sammy arrived at the scene. ‘I can make him stop,’ she said, hoping it was true. ‘I’ll make it better, I promise. And then I’ll leave, I’ll leave you all be.’

‘You stick by my side, Sammy.’ Grandy moved closer and hooked a thumb into the belt loop of his jeans.

‘I didn’t mean this to happen, none of it,’ she said.

Grandy looked at her, studied her for a second, then winked. ‘This is Ethan’s moment. Let’s not spoil it, eh?’

‘First off,’ Ethan started, his calm voice sounding like a boom box in a night-time arena. ‘What you heard tonight is bullshit.’

The group rippled, like a Mexican wave at a footy match.

‘That nonsense about forcing her,’ Ethan continued. ‘It’s a lie.’

Oh God, God, God. Sammy pressed a hand to her breastbone. He was saving face for her.

‘And if I hear any talk about it, you’ll find me on your doorstep. Is that understood?’

Silence. Sammy couldn’t even hear anyone breathing.

A few nodded; some turned to their partners, friends, gauging responses from all around them.

‘It’s true.’

Sammy darted her glance to Julia.

‘That creep in the car is a bullshitter,’ Julia said. ‘Sammy’s my friend and I know that didn’t happen. He’s been pestering Sammy since she arrived here.’

‘Atta’ girl,’ Grandy said from the corner of his mouth.

Sammy stared.
Who was bullshitting who?

‘Ethan is right,’ Frank said, pushing through. ‘We saw it ourselves. That city slick dude manhandled a woman in our town. He’s a bullshitter.’

Ethan stepped closer, didn’t have to raise his hand or lift his chin, the slight move stilled the crowd in front of him. ‘Second,’ he said. The wave rippled, less uniformly this time. ‘I’m making a few changes.’ He scanned the crowd. ‘Josh, step out here.’

‘Ethan?’ Josh stepped through the group.

‘How old are you now?’

‘Seventeen.’

Ethan swelled, as though he’d just bench pressed a hundred and ninety kilos. ‘Then what are you doing in the bar?’

Josh reddened. ‘I was in the family area. I wasn’t at the bar.’

‘I don’t allow underage drinking in my bar,’ Frank interrupted. ‘He had cola.’

Ethan looked back at Josh. ‘Monday morning. My house. 7 am.’

Josh opened his mouth, sweat forming on his upper lip.

‘You said you wanted to work with wood. I’ll teach you. Are you up for it?’

‘Jesus.’

Ethan’s gaze narrowed. ‘And every swearword will cost you a dollar.’

Josh squared. ‘Okay—and yes, I’m up for it.’

‘We’ll get the paperwork organised, a full apprenticeship. I’ll be paying you a weekly wage.’

‘
Yes!
’ Josh pumped the air. ‘I mean—thank you.’

‘You’ll start by mending door handles and fixing gates. We’ll see how well you learn. Then we’ll get to the sexy stuff.’

‘The what?’ Josh asked.

Mrs J poked her face through the crowd.

‘Carpentry,’ Ethan said quietly. ‘That’s the real skill. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘
Yes, sir!
’ Already a head above most in the group, Josh looked taller again. He nodded at those closest. ‘Sexy stuff.’

Someone sniggered, but the group turned back to Ethan as he spoke again. ‘There’s plenty of work needed on some of your places. You buy the materials, Josh and I will do the work. It’ll be in my spare time because of my practice, but pretty soon Josh will be able to handle most of it himself. You pay Josh for the jobs he does for you outside of work hours. Agreed?’

‘Sounds reasonable, Ethan,’ young Mr Morelly said.

‘Just one second, there, Mr Powerful.’ Mary Munroe stepped forwards and fronted Ethan like a military tank swathed in a pink silk blouse. ‘You just stole my assistant.’

Ethan didn’t pause. ‘Young Wendy Jones’s mother is looking for part-time work. She’d do well in Cuddly Bear. And to compensate you further, when he’s ready, Josh will make that glass fronted display cabinet you’ve been pestering me about for the last year.’

‘The one with the fancy trimming? I want it full of old-fashioned character.’