Nine
Rowena’s gaze was fixed on the scenery as Lachlan’s ute ate up the distance between town and Blairgowrie.
He’d waited at the pub while she’d had a shower and changed into jeans and a fleecy-lined jumper.
She hadn’t lingered too long under the spray, not wanting to give herself any time to think about the day.
She’d just jumped in and out, and they’d been on the road twenty minutes later.
The late afternoon light draped gentle fingers over the landscape, softening the starkness with the same palette of pinks and golds it had that day she’d driven to Acacia Junction almost a month ago.
Between the motion of the vehicle and the blur of scenery, Rowena found herself in a kind of meditative state.
Ten minutes out of town, the ute slowed and Lachlan took a left turn onto an unsealed road lousy with corrugations and pockmarked with potholes. The ute shook with the vibrations and her boobs bounced with every rut the tyres found.
‘You want to talk about it?’
Rowena started a little. He hadn’t said a word until now and she’d been grateful for that. She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the darkening forms of gum trees as they flicked by. ‘Not really. No.’
‘Okay.’
Just like that. Just, okay. She’d expected him to push, to get her to open up, and was extraordinarily glad that he hadn’t. She didn’t want to think about the details of the day.
She was no stranger to people’s grief. There was a lot of that in a NICU. But she’d never quite managed to build the kind of Teflon armour that would allow things to just slide off. She could compartmentalise it. Wall it off. Keep it under wraps to be able to function and do what needed to be done.
To be the nurse.
But she wasn’t made of stone, either, and there always came a time in the aftermath—when it was just her—where all the suppressed emotion came bubbling up and she gave herself a moment to feel all the things before letting it go.
Being with a person at the end of their life was a sacred duty, some might even say a privilege. But every death took a tiny chink of her heart. Maybe it didn’t for some medical professionals. But it did for her.
She was certainly pleased she had the next two days off.
‘Ooh.’ Rowena spotted several scraggly-looking sheep grazing under a tree. ‘I can see sheep.’
He laughed. ‘I hope so.’
‘They’re yours?’
‘Yep.’ He nodded. ‘We’re nearly there.’
True to his word, a lowset house on stumps soon appeared.
It had a wide wraparound veranda and looked exactly like a lot of houses she’d seen in pictures of outback properties.
Hanging baskets spilling bright flowers of pink, purple and yellow were spaced evenly and hung from the bullnose joints, providing splashes of colour.
As did the green, grassy area surrounding the house. It stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to the more subdued bushy landscape in which it sat. Big gum trees around the border provided both shade and a natural demarcation between yard and not yard.
Behind the house, she could make out a massive concrete shed with a corrugated-iron roof that consisted of a big open area full of hay plus three large bays. An old-looking tractor was parked in one of them; the other two were occupied by sturdy-looking work vehicles and several quad bikes.
Next to the shed was another structure that looked like a stable block, although she couldn’t see any horses. On one side of that building there was a large wire enclosure housing chickens.
Lachlan drove through an open gate and pulled up beneath the nearest big old shady tree.
‘Home sweet home,’ he said, turning to her with a smile as he cut the engine. Shoving his hat on his head, he opened his door. ‘Come meet Reggie.’
And, with that, he slid out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him.
Absently noting he’d left the keys in the ignition, Rowena also exited the car, the barks of a dog getting closer.
She rounded the bonnet in time to see the red dog from the back of his ute the morning after her arrival, running at a clip and leaping excitedly at Lachlan when it got close enough.
‘Hey, boy.’ Lachlan crouched down to pet the dog.
The dog promptly dropped to the ground and panted in doggy ecstasy as Lachlan rubbed the furry belly and behind floppy ears.
Another dog barked further away and she noticed a blue cattle dog in what appeared to be a wooden baby playpen on the veranda near the front door.
Several wiggling forms yipped excitedly from behind the bars.
‘You remember Red?’ Lachlan said as he stood.
Red thumped his tail against the ground as Rowena said, ‘Hey, Red,’ and gave the dog an ear scratch.
‘Come meet Blue,’ Lachlan said after a beat or two. ‘And her puppies.’
Rowena followed him across the lawn to the steps. In the distance she could hear the screech of cockatoos. Unfortunately, they didn’t distract her from the way Lachlan’s ass looked in his blue jeans, pulling taut as he powered up the steps.
The man should live in denim.
‘Hey, girl.’ More crooning and love for the blue cattle dog, who whimpered in delight, her puppies mewling and keening, climbing over each other to get their share.
They were so freaking cuuuute!
‘Blue,’ Lachlan said, ‘this is Ro. She prefers Rowena but I think she’s coming around.’
Rowena laughed. ‘Considering half the town is calling me Ro, I don’t appear to have a choice.’
Even though his attention was firmly focused on the dog, Rowena could see the smile playing on his mouth. ‘How old are the puppies?’ she asked as she reached into the pen to pet the nearest one baying for her attention.
‘They’re six weeks old. That one’—he tipped his head at the puppy she was stroking—‘is Pistachio. Then we have Wally, Macca, Pecan and Hazel.’ He pointed to each one as he named them, then he picked up two of the squiggling bodies, straightened and handed her the girl called Hazel.
Rowena’s heart just about melted as the dog snuffled her enthusiastically, laughing as it licked her chin. ‘You named them after nuts?’
‘Sure. Reggie likes giving them food names. The last litter we named after spices because they were all girls.’
She laughed again. ‘I’d like to have seen that.’
‘It was quite funny.’
‘What do you do with them?’ Rowena cradled the panting pup as if it was a baby, rubbing the soft hairless skin on its belly. ‘Do you keep them?’
‘We sell them locally. Lotta places around here need good working dogs. Why?’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You want one?’
Had she been asked before this moment, Rowena would have categorically denied wanting any animal. Given she’d barely been able to look after herself recently, she didn’t think being responsible for something else was wise.
But, oh, they were ah-dorable!
‘I’m not sure a cattle dog would be at home in the city.’
He didn’t answer for a beat. ‘True.’ Their gazes met for a fleeting moment before he looked at the puppy he was cuddling.
‘They’re very energetic and have been bred to work.
But they’re also very loyal and protective, so if you’re prepared to exercise them every day then it doesn’t matter where you live. ’
‘Thanks, but—’ Rowena held up her puppy, a hand under each front leg, letting her hind legs dangle. ‘Cute as you are, little girl, I think I’ll have to pass.’ She wasn’t here to form attachments, for crying out loud—four legged or two!
‘Sorry,’ she apologised.
‘Don’t be. I think she’s fulfilled her purpose here today. You feel better, right?’
‘I do.’ She really did.
‘See? All you needed was some puppy therapy,’ he teased. ‘You’re welcome to come out any time if you need more.’
Rowena smiled as she nuzzled her nose against the dog’s wet one. She laughed as Hazel licked it. ‘I might just take you up on that.’
Lachlan placed his puppy back in the pen and relieved Rowena of Hazel, repeating the process. ‘Better get you inside. Reggie’ll be busting a gut to get the meal out.’
Feeling weirdly nervous, Rowena gave Blue one last lingering pat before she followed Lachlan, who hung his hat on the hook near the door before pushing it open and indicating for her to precede him.
Taking a breath, Rowena stepped into the house and straight into a large, welcoming kitchen, toasty warm compared to the nippy air outside.
The benchtops were strewn with saucepans, kilo packets of sugar and several different piles of lemons, grapefruit and finger limes.
There were also multiple jars, of different sizes—some were empty, some were filled with what looked like jam.
A large fridge sat against one wall. The outside was covered in magnets, most in the shape of sheep. One said, You had me at baaa, another Baaaack off! And then the aroma of roasting meat hit and Rowena lost interest in the magnets.
Her mouth watered and her stomach growled. She hadn’t had a chance to eat anything much today.
A man with snowy white hair and matching whiskers sat at a big old wooden table, one end pushed against the wall, several empty jars occupying space there too.
He looked up from the newspaper he was reading, and if he was surprised to see that Lachlan had brought a guest, he didn’t show it, just inclined his head with a smile.
But it was the woman, bent over the open oven door, that drew immediate attention. Reggie, she assumed.
‘About bloody time, too,’ she groused as she pulled out a roasting tray. Her voice was crackly in that way voices turned as they aged.
‘Hey, Reggie.’ Lachlan addressed his grandmother’s back as she placed the tray on top of the old Aga. ‘I’d like you to meet Rowena Murray.’
Rowena barely registered him introducing her correctly before Reggie whipped around. The older woman’s gaze was like a laser focusing in on her as she used her forearm to wipe at the fuzzy grey wisps of hair that were sticking to her brow.