Mountain Ash Page 17

  But Alex won’t ride away into the sunset.

  And good sex – well, make that great sex, okay, incredible sex – wasn’t everything.

  On that thought she took a deep breath and gently raised the arm pinning her to the mattress. A few mumbled words near her ear had her halting in mid-lift. Then Nate chose to roll the other way, over towards the river. She let out the breath she’d been holding and snuck from beneath the blanket. Nate had obviously woken at one stage and pulled some coverings over them, God bless him. No! She wasn’t supposed to be liking him any more than she already did. He was a no-go zone and she had to extricate herself from this situation quickly.

  She quietly rummaged through the grass and found her clothes. Nate, bless him again, must have got up and found a few of her things, which he’d piled on top of her discarded boots to stop them getting completely wet from the dew on the grass.

  Once she was dressed, she turned to the man who had made incredible love to her last night and sighed. In sleep he looked vulnerable. The square jaw had softened, dark lashes fringed closed eyelids. She wondered if his eyes would be sky-blue in this light. His mouth slowly turned up in a slight grin. Whatever he was dreaming, it was obviously good. In a perverse way she kind of hoped he was reliving their love-making. Because, yes, now more was coming back to her, and it had been beautiful. Sublime even. It turned her on just thinking about it.

  Enough of this. She was just prolonging the inevitable. She placed a light kiss on her fingers, leaned down and barely touched his cheek. Whispered goodbye on the early morning breeze. And was gone.

  Like a will-o’-the-wisp.

  Chapter 23

  ‘And just remind me why we’re leaving at the crack of dawn if it was so good?’ said Stacey, rubbing bleary eyes as the Barry Way was eaten up by the six-cylinder ute. Jodie, who was driving more carefully now she’d hit the gravel, kept her eye on the rear-view mirror. It was just pure instinct: that’s what you did when you were running away.

  But Riverton was far behind them, she reassured herself, and so was Nate. Jodie finally felt she could relax. Except for the pesky, pointed questioning that was being aimed at her by her co-pilot.

  ‘You’re not answering me, Ashie.’

  No, she wasn’t answering because she didn’t really know the answer herself. Liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire …

  ‘Ashie!’

  Jodie shook her head at her friend. ‘I just don’t need that kind of complication, Stace.’

  ‘Probably should’ve thought of that before you slept with him then.’

  ‘Excuse me! Who was the one who told me to live a little?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t know you were going to take it to heart.’

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?’

  Stace rubbed her eyes again. In her peripheral vision Jodie saw her mate take a deep breath. ‘What I mean is, you were supposed to just bonk him and leave it at that. Not spend half an hour or so waxing lyrical about his sexual abilities and then in the next breath flog yourself for enjoying it.’

  She hadn’t been doing that, had she?

  ‘And what’s more, you aren’t really in a relationship yet with Alex, so I can’t see why you can’t get out and have some fun.’

  She hadn’t told Stacey she’d slept with Alex. And fun? That was the problem. She wasn’t supposed to have fun. Not like Stacey, Ange and Mel. She was a mother with responsibilities, whether she liked it or not.

  Jodie heaved a great sigh as she sent the Holden ute around a corner, past the Teacup and Saucer Lookout. ‘I just shouldn’t have done it, that’s all.’ No, she shouldn’t have. She should be home with her daughter playing with her own teacups and saucers, being a responsible, grown-up woman who was happy to quilt with the CWA and then campdraft to get her thrills. Not go to wild piss-ups with raft races, dancing, drunken orgies – or anywhere else cowboys were found loitering.

  ‘Fuck!’ yelled Stace a second before Jodie realised what was on the road in front of them.

  Instinct took over. She threw all her weight behind the brake, steering with the skid, knowing she had nowhere to go. The drop down to the right-hand side was steep. Oh. My. God. They’d had it. The three deer were looming closer and closer in the windscreen until there was a rack of antlers the size of a good tree branch almost on top of the bull-bar. Holy. Fucking. Hell. They weren’t going to be able to stop.

  ‘Aaaargghh!’ screamed Stacey, throwing her hands in front of her face.

  Jodie desperately tried to wrestle with the skid. First the vehicle swung towards the huge drop down to the right. Next they were heading towards the dank and dark bank rising up from the left. In the middle stood the family of deer, poised, startled like frozen sculptures in a Thomas Kinkade painting. The ute hit the edge of one, the stag. The vehicle ricocheted back towards the middle of the road and then, with Jodie’s grim guidance, headed towards the dirt bank. Momentum kept driving them forwards. And she hadn’t been going that fast in the first place. Don’t look at the tree, don’t look at the tree, she kept telling herself, knowing if that was where she looked that was where they would end up. The ute tray swung this way then that, the bonnet ploughed on. ‘Stop, damn you,’ she yelled. Stacey was still screaming.

  It was slowing. It was careering back towards the edge. Now towards the bank.

  It was slowing more.

  The vehicle came to a halt with the bull-bar buried in a scrummage of tree ferns, the plumage of fronds shaking like a flock of cranky birds. The engine stalled.

  Stopped.

  All was quiet.

  The animals that had caused the crash stood stock-still in shock. A split second later the deer took off. The doe was followed by her little fawn. The stag went last, making sure his family were up the slope before he limped away, his antlers dipping sideways at the ungainly gait.

  Jodie slumped to the steering wheel, hands over her face. She had only one blinding thought.

  Three times she’d tempted fate. Three times in the last few weeks she’d come close to losing it all. The campdrafting accident, sleeping with a damn stranger, and now this. They could have been sitting at the bottom of the gully. And they would have been dead. She peered through her fingers at the other side of the road and shuddered.

  She lifted her head and stared at Stacey, who by now had tears running down her face.

  ‘That was close,’ Jodie said.

  Stacey nodded, managed a slight smile. ‘You did good,’ she said. ‘You did great.’

  ‘Yeah, lucky I guess.’ Jodie grimaced back.

  Minutes passed, which may as well have been hours, each girl lost in her own thoughts.

  Jodie finally got out of the ute and checked the state of the vehicle. Stacey sat where she was. She couldn’t move on account of the dirt bank kissing the passenger side door. And Jodie guessed, looking at Stacey’s white face tilted back against the head rest, that clambering over the gearstick and exiting the driver’s side were beyond her friend’s capabilities for the moment.

  Apart from a slight dent above the front driver’s wheel arch, they’d fared reasonably well.

  Jodie shakily got back into the driver’s seat and muttered a prayer. As she keyed the motor, she said under her breath, ‘C’mon, c’mon. Don’t fail us now.’ It was miles back to help and she was guessing the phone service was dodgy, if not non-existent. Thankfully, the motor rumbled to life on its second attempt. Jodie breathed a huge sigh of relief. Now to get out of the scrub. She slowly backed away from the bushes and set the ute on the road proper.

  Stacey flapped her hands. ‘Want me to drive?’

  Jodie snapped a glance at her mate. ‘I’m right. That’s unless you don’t want me to?’

  Stacey grinned weakly. ‘Lead on, McDuff. I’m just going to close my eyes and pretend that never happened.’

  Jodie nodded as the ute trundled forwards, back on its way home to East Gippsland.

  She was going to try to forget it had ever happe
ned too. In fact she was going to pretend the whole weekend had never occurred. No leaving her daughter, no fun road-trip with the girls, no Singer treadle sewing machine and a funny old man, no hilarious raft race, no drunken sex with a handsome, bewitching, sexy-as-hell cowboy. Nothing. Nada. Diddly zip.

  Nate woke to the sound of a motor. First he thought it was the buzzing in his head. Then he realised someone had obviously decided early on Monday morning was a great time to use a bulldozer to push up blackberries and boxthorn on the opposite side of the riverbank. He groaned and rolled over.

  Realised his arms were empty.

  He put out a hand. The blankets next to him were cold.

  She was gone.

  He languidly stretched. She’d probably be at the loos. He felt the need himself and rolled out of the swag. His bare feet hit cold ground. He moved behind a wattle to do his business. The bulldozer had stopped, and as magpies warbled their good morning to all above his head, Nate considered his manly appendage. Thank God for that condom in the glove box. The one Wal hadn’t found. That protective little packet his father had forced onto him years ago had delivered Nate the best night of his life. He’d never felt so involved, so intent on giving, so passionate, so alive, so committed, so … His mind tried to wrestle his feelings to the ground as he gazed out across the river. A fish jumped, snagging a tiny, fluttering dragonfly. Mosquitoes loitered and zipped their way across the water. But Nate wasn’t seeing an aquatic ecosystem. In his internal sightline were only silvery-blue eyes. He didn’t know what to call his feelings for this blonde-haired beauty. All he knew was he had to have more of it. Of her. Ash was something else and it wasn’t just the sex. She was gorgeous but that was just the start. He’d never met a woman who was so mature without being stodgy, settled without being dull, confident without being arrogant. All that packaged into one stunning individual was worth pursuing.

  He finished and considered getting back into the swag and waiting until Ash returned.

  But what if she doesn’t? whispered a little voice. He shook his head. He didn’t want to contemplate that. He’d get dressed and if she appeared he could always undress, couldn’t he?

  But by the time he was up to donning his boots, he realised either she wasn’t coming back or she’d gone to her friend’s ute.

  Oh well, he’d just roll up the swag and meet her there. It was near his LandCruiser anyway and he should check on Wal. Make sure he had made it back to his bed in one piece. A bit late now if he hadn’t, but Nate was philosophical about that. Hell, this morning he felt so good he’d be philosophical about anything. Anyway, the old fella was as tough as the leather he sewed. He’d survive. Nate would too, if he could have more of last night.

  He finished pulling on his Ariats and rolled up the swag. He gathered up the practically empty wine bottle and the cups and dumped them in the half-20-litre drum. He added a discarded foil packet. Went to pick up the used condom lying in the grass … Stopped. Peered closer. Gingerly picked up the rubber using two fingers. Fuck it. Use-by dates were obviously there for a reason. There was a gaping hole in the slack latex. Nate groaned. So much for Alex McGregor’s last gift to his son. He stared at the condom for a few more minutes. Sighed and shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it now. Being a modern go-get-’em girl Ash’d probably be on the pill. He’d best mention it though.

  Dumping the sorry-looking mess into his makeshift bin, he stuck the drum under one arm, humped the swag onto his back and set off towards the main camping area of the showgrounds. He’d trash the drum and go find his woman. The beautiful will-o’-the-wisp with silvery-blue eyes. A river nymph with a smile and dimples that made you feel like you’d gone to heaven.

  Ash.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Mummy!’ a streak of pink yelled as it bolted towards the ute.

  Jodie pulled the vehicle up beside the gutter and glanced at her daughter running across the grass.

  ‘Welcome home to mummy-hood,’ said Stace with a grin. Her friend’s demeanour had improved considerably in the last couple of hours. In fact you could barely tell that Stace had recently suffered a near-death experience. Jodie opened the car door and bailed out of the ute just as an energetic seven-year-old slammed into her.

  ‘I missed you, Mummy!’ cried Milly. ‘But guess what?’ The little girl jumped back, excitement in her eyes. ‘Muey and I have a secret. I can’t tell you until Mue comes, but you’re gunna love it.’

  ‘Going to love it,’ Jodie corrected her daughter automatically, while her mind focused on the word secret. I don’t need any more surprises.

  Over her daughter’s head, Jodie could see Muriel Bailey making her way across the lawn towards her. A slight smile was creasing her gentle face. She called out, ‘Millicent. Remember what I said? Mum mightn’t agree so don’t get your hopes up.’

  Milly’s smile disappeared, but she couldn’t be subdued for long. She grabbed at her mother’s hand and started to pull her along. ‘C’mon. If you see him, I know you’ll love him.’

  From behind Jodie, Stacey gave a loud laugh. ‘Better go see, Mum,’ she said, unloading Jodie’s stuff from the ute. ‘In fact, I might come too.’

  Milly jumped up and down. ‘Purrrrfect,’ she yelled, rolling her Rs. ‘You might want one too, Stacey. They’re out the back.’

  All four rounded the corner of the house, just in time to see Mue’s little dog scoot across the back lawn with something in her mouth.

  Milly ran after her. ‘Drop that kitten right now, you naughty doggy!’ The dog dumped her catch, spun and bolted for the cat door into the house. She just made it before Milly kicked her bum. The size-four riding boot landed against the door instead. ‘Youch!’ yelled Milly.

  ‘Millicent Ashton. You are not to kick a dog. Even a naughty one,’ said Jodie, coming up behind her daughter. Her palm was just itching to whack Milly’s behind, but that wasn’t the best way of welcoming herself home.

  To her credit, Milly looked repentant. ‘Sorry, Mum. It’s just she thinks the kittens are hers and she tries to steal them. And the mummy cat isn’t well enough to get them back!’ The indignant note in the girl’s voice was commendable. And really, what kind of mother couldn’t relate to a protective instinct like that?

  After casting another apologetic glance at her mother, Milly ran across the garden towards a mewling scrap of grey fur. Jodie watched her child gently gather the kitten up. That was Milly. A rescuer. A nurturer. A bit like herself.

  ‘Far out! Aren’t they gorgeous?’ said Stacey, who was by now peering into an old washing basket sitting under the shade of the back verandah. ‘How many are there? One, two, three, four …’

  ‘There’s five, but the one I’ve got is the cutest,’ said Milly, bringing the kitten to Jodie for inspection.

  And Jodie had to admit that although she was a dog person, the furry double-coated, dark-eyed little poppet of a face peering out from her daughter’s hands was cute. Very cute, in fact.

  ‘So can we have it?’ Milly pleaded.

  ‘Whoa,’ said Jodie. ‘It mightn’t be available to have.’

  ‘But it is,’ said her daughter. ‘The mum’s from Mr McGregor’s place and he doesn’t want all these kittens.’

  Jodie glanced across at Mue, a question in her eyes. The older woman nodded. ‘Alex doesn’t like cats. This one was his wife’s and she’s really too old to be having kittens.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t he get her fixed up?’

  Mue shrugged her shoulders. ‘That costs money. Cats don’t pay their way.’

  Not like cattle or sheep (on a good sale day) or even horses in some cases. Take, for instance, this horse Warrior that Alex was hankering to buy for her. He was a saleable commodity worth big bucks.

  Not like these poor little buggers.

  Milly was still looking up at her with urgent eyes. ‘I’ll look after it, I promise, Mum.’

  Jodie couldn’t resist that double-whammy tug at her heart. Especially after the weekend she’
d just had. It was time to get back on track. Recognise she was a mother, not a twenty-something party-animal. Recognise the only animal allowed into her and Milly’s life in the future was the tiny one in front of her. And the only party needed was a bunch of schoolkids to celebrate her daughter’s birthday. That definitely excluded horses that cost big bucks and cowboys out to have a good time.

  When Nate finally made it back to his ute to dump the swag, Wal was nowhere to be seen. There was evidence he’d made it home, though. A ten-gallon hat, a pile of spew and a pair of boots all mushed up together. Nate nearly vomited himself just seeing the mess. He looked around, further up the paddock, and it was then he saw what else wasn’t there. A ute. A Holden Crewman. He started to run to the spot it had occupied, making it in double-quick time. And now he did really want to throw up.

  She was gone.

  He frantically swung around three-sixty degrees, looking for an explanation. Maybe they’d decided to shift closer to the grandstand? Maybe they’d driven to the showers? Maybe there was another patchworking day on? Neither she nor Wal had said anything about that. He needed to find the old man, ask him what he knew and what he’d seen.

  He had to find her.

  He searched the grandstand area, which was looking lonely and unkempt after last night’s partying. He searched around each toilet block and shower trailer. He covered the whole showgrounds area without spotting one dual-cab Holden ute. They were in short supply across the board. Single cabs, Toyotas, Nissans, even the odd Hyundai, but there was no sign of Ash and Stacey anywhere. He finally walked dejectedly back to his LandCruiser. She was gone. That was unless, of course, the patchworking idea held true. It was his only hope. But that slim possibility was dashed at the sight of Wal sitting cross-legged on the grass, leaning against a 44-gallon-drum rubbish bin. Eyes closed, grizzly face upturned to the sun, he didn’t look like he was going anywhere, least of all to a hall full of gossiping women.