Outback Dreams (15 page)

His lips tingled as he contemplated her doing exactly that, but he quickly moved the conversation on. ‘I'd be happy to look into it if you like.'

‘Thanks. That would be awesome.'

As they continued their journey, Monty asked more about the Barking Ball. He didn't focus on the autism aspect but on the mammoth organisation that was involved. It was a safe topic—nothing too personal or emotional for either of them. At least, it wasn't if he didn't let himself think that way.

Faith told him about the sponsors she'd approached for cash and prizes, the ideas she had for decorations, goodie bags and the auction. As she rattled off all that needed to be done, more ideas popped into his head and Faith welcomed them. Somehow he found himself accepting an invitation to join the organising committee. He figured it would give him an excuse to spend more time with Ruby.

They refilled their travel mugs with takeaway coffees in Perth and were back on the Albany Highway before ten o'clock.

‘I haven't been down this way in years.' Faith stared dreamily out the window as they climbed the hills just past Armadale. ‘Come to think of it, this is as close as I've come to a holiday since Mum died.'

‘Me too,' Monty said. Holidays had never been a big deal for him; he'd been far too busy working and saving to worry about getaways. If he closed the deal on Clancy's Breakaway, he wouldn't care if he never had a holiday again.

‘What was your favourite family holiday as a child?'

Faith's question broke his reverie and gave him pause for thought. Holidays had been difficult with Will. They'd never been overseas because he couldn't stand the confines of aeroplanes and didn't cope well with being so close to so many people. Once they'd gone interstate—driving across the Nullarbor to Sydney—but having to change motel rooms every day had been disastrous. When they returned, Jenni and Stuart had sworn never to go farther than they could drive in one day. The answer to Faith's question was easy.

‘The few times we came back up to Bunyip and stayed at Forrester's Rock with your family.'

‘Oh, yeah. Boy did we get up to some mischief.' She moved slightly in her seat, putting up her feet against the dash. She'd slipped her shoes off, and he noticed her toenails were painted a soft shade of pink. So unlike the Faith he knew. So sexy. He shifted in his seat.

Oblivious to his thoughts, she continued. ‘Remember that time Will caught that red-back spider?'

He shuddered. ‘How could I forget?' He still recalled the itchy pain of the spider injecting his venom and its rapid spread through his body. He'd been bitten while trying to get rid of Will's find before their mum discovered it. ‘That's one trip to the doctor I hope I'll never have to make again.' The antivenom had been almost as bad as the actual bite.

His gaze drifted again to her toes—part of her new effort to transform herself. He had to admit that any man looking at her feet would want to get to know the rest of her. Was that the reason for these unwelcome sexual thoughts about his best mate? Because he was worried about the type of guy she might hook up with? Was it some sort of perverted protective instinct?

‘I don't know how your mum puts up with all those spiders,' Faith mused, her words once again jolting him from his thoughts. ‘You were really good with Will, you know?'

Monty snorted.

Faith continued. ‘I don't know if I ever said that, but I admired everything you did for him. All those times you stuck up for him against those bullies. It's a shame you don't get to see him more now.'

He briefly closed his eyes. Those times were hell—times when he, Faith and Will would kick a ball around the local park on the weekends Faith was not at boarding school. Will would watch other kids like they were a freak show, while the other kids thought it exactly the other way around. The worst time, Will had made a dig about one of the boys wearing his trousers too low and looking like the plumber who had come to fix the pipes that week. That was Will—always saying things as they were, never censoring his thoughts like other people did. He'd said it loud enough for the boy in question to hear—a beefy kid with piercings all over his face, ripped t-shirt, jeans and a posse of equally intimidating friends. Will had suffered a punch to the face and a bloody nose, but it would have been so much worse if Faith and Monty hadn't intervened.

‘You looked out for him too,' he said, recalling how that particular day she'd pushed one of the teens to the ground and near-on knocked out his teeth.

‘Yeah, I know. Will's a cool kid. But he wasn't my brother. I didn't have to live with him. Looking back, I can see that must have been pretty tough.'

Despite all the things she and Monty had talked about over the years, they'd never touched on how Monty really felt about Will. He knew she adored his brother and he didn't quite know how to reply, so he shrugged and made a joke of it. ‘Wasn't that bad. At least I had expert help when it came to research projects. Other kids had to look up the
World Book Encyclopaedia
. I had a brother who knew it practically off by heart.'

Faith laughed, but it wasn't her usual deep-bellied chortle.

Lost in their separate memories, they drove on. Slowly the conversation drifted to other things. They commented on the few small towns they passed through—Bannister, Williams, Arthur River, Kojonup—and then another hour passed and they were nearly there. As Monty turned off the highway onto the smaller road Mack had given directions to, his sweaty hands began to slip on the steering wheel and his heart rate picked up pace.

On either side of the narrow roads were paddocks, much greener than the ones back home. It looked as if some of the local farmers had already starting seeding, and his suspicions were confirmed when they went another hundred metres or so and saw a big tractor ploughing a field to their right. Monty wound down the window and let the fresh midday air wash over him. He took a deep, satisfying breath. It lacked the saltiness of the air in Bunyip Bay but was beautiful just the same.

Beside him, Faith remained quiet. He glanced across to see her gazing out the window and she turned her head towards him. ‘We must be almost there,' she said with a smile.

As if her words had conjured it, a large banner-like sign loomed just off to the right in front of them. Even before they were close enough to read the words, Monty knew this was the place.

A settled feeling, which he hadn't felt in years, flowed over him as he turned the ute and slowed just before the welcome sign. Two large rough-wood poles stood on either side of a rustic-looking gate. Held up by the poles, like a bridge across the gravel drive, was the large red and white sign announcing “Clancy's Breakaway—Tim and Nora Patterson." At the bottom of the poles, blooms of everlastings littered the dirt.

‘It's like something out of a Western movie,' Faith said, ‘like a ranch.'

‘Like a home.'

Monty hadn't meant to say that out loud but, again, that sense of Tightness overcame him. Before Faith could reply, he leapt out and jogged ahead to open the gate. He hurried back to the ute, desperate to drive over the cattle grid and begin the adventure.

Faith stared dreamily at the welcome sign and the land beyond it. How could anyone look at this view without imagining owning it, making it home?

But she quickly shook herself. She was supposed to be keeping Monty grounded, not letting him get carried away before he'd analysed all the facts. ‘It's only a sign,' she forced herself to say as he slid back into the driver's seat. ‘Let's see what the rest of the place has to offer.'

They drove onwards, admiring the healthy-looking cattle in the lush green paddocks on either side of them. It was a novelty, seeing cows rather than sheep, and having always had a soft spot for cattle, Faith couldn't help but smile. They passed a couple of ancient windmills and then, closer to the house, some modern ones that looked fully functional. They registered two of the sheds Monty had mentioned and saw a number of dams before the drive forked. Nestled between the two roads was a sight that made them both gasp.

‘Wow.' Faith couldn't say anything else, and Monty appeared speechless. He stopped the ute and they both stared open-mouthed at the kind of homestead she'd only ever seen in chic outback magazines. Although still a fair distance away, she took in the vastness of the old building—early 1900s she imagined—with its gorgeous verandahs all around, stone walls and shiny tin roof. ‘Didn't you say four bedrooms? That place looks like it could house a football team.'

‘And look at the gardens,' Monty said in awe.

She dropped her gaze from the house to focus on the positively gorgeous blooms that thrived in a number of raised garden beds. A low iron fence bordered a yard that looked like a feature on
Gardening Australia.

Before she could comment, the front door burst open and two people hurried down the garden path. Monty got out of the ute to greet them. Faith undid her seatbelt and followed.

They were met by a couple whom Faith guessed to be in their late sixties or even early seventies. The man towered above her, his height on a par with Monty's, but he didn't look as sturdy as Monty. Despite the smile lines etched into his face, she could tell working on the land had taken its toll. He was lanky and tanned and tired-looking. In contrast, his wife had ample padding around her waist, where an apron was tied, as if she'd been baking. A no-fuss ponytail confined her long grey hair at the nape of her neck.

‘You must be Daniel.' The man held out his hand and Monty shook it.

‘Lovely to meet you,' said his wife, offering her hand in quick succession. ‘I'm Nora and this is Tim.'

‘We're so pleased you've come to look around.' Tim's smile reminded Faith of Santa Claus. ‘And who is this?'

‘Yes, who is this lovely lady?' Nora asked, looking her up and down in a manner totally different from the girls of the alumnae. Sometimes in life you met someone and immediately felt as if you'd found a like soul. Nora was one such person.

Faith beamed at the old couple as Monty spoke.

‘This is Faith.' He smiled and pulled her into his side.

Faith's heartbeat quickened and her temperature rose at the feel of her body melded with his. She tried to overrule the ridiculous reaction with logic—he was holding her like a friend—but her errant hormones refused to take the hint.

She struggled from Monty's embrace and offered her hand out as well, first to Nora, then to Tim. ‘Lovely to meet you.'

‘You have a beautiful house,' Monty said, taking another glance out across the ocean of colours, ‘and your garden is amazing.'

Nora grinned and the smile lines around her eyes became even more defined. ‘Do you like gardening?' she asked, looking to Monty.

He gave a firm nod. ‘Yeah, I do actually. My own garden has been sadly neglected due to lack of time these last few years, but I do a lot of odd jobs around town and there's often gardening involved.'

‘Ah, well that's lovely.' Nora sighed, and Faith thought she detected a glisten of water in the older woman's eyes. ‘It'd be nice to sell the place to someone who would look after my roses.'

‘I'd do my best,' Monty promised.

‘Now, you two must be exhausted after such a long drive,' Nora said, tucking strands of flyaway grey hair behind her ears. ‘Let's have a nice cup of tea and some lunch and then we'll show you around the place.'

Tim patted his stomach. ‘Good idea.'

Although Faith saw the slightest glimmer of disappointment in Monty's eyes—he'd be eager to have a look around the property— he didn't let their hosts notice. Instead, he covered his impatience with a charming grin and nodded towards the house. ‘Lead the way, Nora.' He'd have the older woman eating out of his hand within five minutes.

If the outside of the homestead was impressive, the inside made Faith want to set up camp on the padded sofa and never ever leave. She tried to think how she'd describe the décor to Jenni—because Lord knew Monty wouldn't think to. It was a magical combination of early nineteenth-century furniture and modern comforts. In the kitchen, they sat down around a massive handmade oak table, which was obviously the hub of the house. A pot of soup simmered on the stove; warm, freshly cooked bread rested on a plate on the bench, and a couple of racks of biscuits lay cooling nearby. The combined aroma reminded her of Christmas time when her mum was still alive.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?' she asked as Nora distributed bowls between them.

‘No, you just relax.' Nora patted her on the shoulder as she turned back to the stove to grab the soup. ‘You've been driving all day.'

‘Actually, Monty did all the driving. He's particular like that.' She winked at him across the table and felt a friendly kick to her shins.

Nora chuckled. ‘Tim's just the same. The only time he ever let me drive him around was when he had his hip operation a couple of years back.'

‘Don't remind me.' Tim visibly shuddered.

Nora ladled a generous serving of hearty minestrone soup into each of their bowls and then offered bread rolls around the table. Faith hadn't thought she could eat another thing after all the biscuits they'd gorged on during the journey, but at the smell of the soup, her stomach rumbled in anticipation. She took a roll and passed the basket to Monty.

As the four of them ate, Monty, Faith and even Tim complimented Nora on her culinary skills. Tim's voice shone with adoration and pride as he looked towards his wife and thanked her for lunch. Faith hoped one day she would experience that kind of love—the kind that lasted through decades and was still as strong as the day you met.

She became uncharacteristically teary at the thought and was grateful when the conversation turned to business.