Chapter Eight #3
An hour later they were hungry again, and the backyard came alive with billowing barbecue smoke and lively music.
A country ballad twanged through the air as if boot-scooting on the notes, enticing Nyah to tap her foot and hum along.
The familiar seventies melody that followed evoked a sense of nostalgia and warmth as she sang the chorus of the Led Zeppelin song along with Caleb, both of them way out of tune but not caring, not even a little.
She watched him at work from the comfort of her camp chair, where he’d insisted she stay, and a soft chuckle escaped her as he donned an apron emblazoned with the phrase ‘Licensed to Grill’.
Catching her eye, he winked lightheartedly, and she couldn’t help but smile right back at him, sure the admiration in her eyes was noticeable.
Then she observed him as he moved skilfully over the grill, tongs in hand, swaying to the music with every step as he lost himself within it.
Jet hung closely at his master’s side now, hoping to get some meaty treats, too.
It was in these moments, when his walls came down and his humour shone through, that she caught a glimpse of the rare vulnerability he kept hidden from most. And it was also these fleeting exchanges—the shared glimpses into each other’s souls, the captivated glances that spoke volumes—that slowly chipped away at the walls around her own heart.
Standing then wandering over to his side, she took sips from her wine as he worked deftly over the sizzling lamb chops, filling the air with the mouth-watering aroma of searing meat mixed with garlic and herbs.
Then, with their protein cooked perfectly, he scooped the creamy apple, fennel and cabbage coleslaw he’d whipped up onto each plate, along with a serving of tomato and basil salad, made from the ingredients he’d asked her to pluck from his very own vegetable patch.
‘Hope you’re hungry,’ he said proudly as he presented their meal.
‘I’m absolutely starving,’ she replied, her words carrying the weight of more than just physical hunger. ‘This looks amazing.’ She was famished for these moments of connection, for the laughter and memories they created together, so effortlessly, so naturally, as if made for one another.
In another lifetime, maybe…
They settled back into their chairs, the Miranda Lambert tune about the house that built her providing a soothing background to the symphony of night sounds surrounding them.
Jet sat off to the side, enjoying his two sausages that Caleb had cooked especially for him.
The way he treated his doggy mate made her heart melt even more.
While she relished each bite of his delicious cooking, forks clinked against plates and soft murmurs of appreciation broke the silence.
With every mouthful, tenderly made by Caleb’s hands, she felt a creeping sense of contentment seep deeper into her bones.
Dinner unfolded slowly, measured by the rhythms of their conversation and the flickering of flames.
The wine had let down some of their defences and, with Nyah’s encouragement, Caleb spoke passionately about his work, his longing for a family in the future, and his garden, gesturing proudly to the neat rows of edible plants that bordered the yard as he did.
She listened intently, her gaze tracing the lines of his face in the soft glow of the fire.
She couldn’t help but think about how those very herbs and vegetables had brought life to their meal, how they grew from this land, his land, as a testament to his nurture, care, and patience.
This place was Caleb’s very own world, one he’d built with tenacity and love.
And as she looked at him aglow in the flickering flames, she began to wish with all her heart that maybe, just maybe, there could be room in it for her too.
Stop it, Love, right now!
Before she went and said something stupid, she took another bite of her lamb chop, appreciating the savoury richness of the perfectly charred exterior.
‘Remember that time when we were all camping out for the night, and we tried to make damper?’ she asked with a soft chuckle. ‘It turned out more like brick than bread.’
‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’ Caleb joined in her laughter, his warm voice resonating through the crisp evening air.
‘I still think it could’ve been used as a weapon,’ he added playfully.
‘But at least your berry crumble saved the day. I still can’t believe you managed to bake that in a cast-iron pot over an open flame. ’
Nyah grinned mischievously. ‘Pure determination,’ she declared with a wink.
As they continued their conversation well into the night, their voices carried across the paddocks and occasionally echoed with horse chatter.
Stories of past culinary mishaps seamlessly transitioned into tales of childhood adventures—of climbing trees and chasing after the wind, of scraped knees and innocent dreams. And as the velvet black of night felt as if it had completely enveloped them, and the millions of glimmering stars had put on a show worthy of a standing ovation, they moved their chairs closer to the warmth of the flames.
Settling in for a little while longer, Caleb poured them each another glass of the merlot he’d ‘hunted and gathered’ from the house—his words that had cracked her up.
As he passed hers over, their fingers brushed in an ephemeral moment that sparked more electricity between them. ‘Here’s to memories old and new,’ he toasted, raising his glass slightly.
‘To the past that shapes us and the future that awaits us,’ she echoed, her voice tinged with a sense of reverence.
Resting back, they sipped their wine slowly, allowing the complex flavours of pepper, chocolate and cherry to dance on their palates.
And as the conversation continued, and they shared more life stories, there was sacredness in their tone—a deep appreciation for the moments that had brought them to this point in their lives.
Nyah spoke of her father teaching her karate, instilling discipline and strength within her as a shield against life’s uncertainties.
Caleb expressed his admiration for Robert Love, for sharing a passion with his daughter that would always protect her if, God forbid, the need arose.
All the while his intense gaze never wavered from hers as he listened with interest. And as Caleb spoke of his own upbringing and the values instilled in him by his loving parents—justice, kindness and the unwavering need to protect—Nyah couldn’t help but be drawn further back into his world.
Before she knew it, the second bottle of red wine was now open between them.
And they’d agreed she’d be making herself at home in the guestroom—Caleb wouldn’t be driving anywhere.
Relishing one another’s company, they talked more of their childhood dreams, and how they’d once believed they could conquer the world or at least tame it, acknowledging that as they’d grown older and wiser, some of those dreams seemed to have slipped through their fingers like the finest of sand.
‘Maybe we’ve just realised that the world isn’t ours to conquer,’ Caleb suggested, ‘but to coexist with, and make a small piece of it better in whatever way we can.’
‘You need to become a world leader in your next life, Hart,’ she said, with a wine-enhanced grin.
‘Maybe I will, Love.’ He returned a grin of his own.
Still smiling, Nyah turned her gaze back up to the night sky, with its countless stars glittering like diamonds, and she felt a sense of weightlessness wash over her as the vastness of the universe beneath the endlessness of an untainted country sky reminded her of life’s infinite possibilities.
She couldn’t ignore the painful memories that still haunted her, but here, next to Caleb, with the warmth of the fire caressing their skin and the wine loosening their tongues and hearts, she felt as if anything was possible.
‘Let’s make new dreams,’ she whispered softly, almost afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter this moment. ‘Dreams that don’t have to be grand or flashy, just…real.’
‘Real sounds perfect to me,’ he agreed, his hand finding hers in the space between their chairs. ‘But make sure you don’t speak your dreams out loud, otherwise they may never come true.’
‘Isn’t that wishes?’ she asked innocently.
‘Dreams are wishes and wishes are dreams,’ he replied softly.
‘Yes, so true,’ she breathed.
Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if they were two pieces that had finally found their place in the jigsaw of life.
Wrapped up in the peacefulness of the Australian bush, and each other, with only the stars as witnesses, they silently dreamed as they sat by the dying embers of the campfire, holding hands and embracing the gentle untangling of their guarded hearts.
The rustle of the gum leaves above created a sonata with the chirping of crickets, their melody carried by the whispering cool night breeze.
From the speakers on the verandah, one tune switched to another, and an old Garth Brooks song rang out.
Enjoying the familiarity of it, Nyah felt the lyrics stir something deep within her, as if an ancient call to sway with the music, to move with the night itself, within this magical man’s arms, was irrefutably necessary.
Standing up before she thought better of it, she stretched her arms out to the side, her movements unhurried and graceful.
She offered her hand to Caleb in passing, a silent invitation to dance beneath the celestial tapestry.
‘Care to join me?’ she asked, her voice soft.