Outback Dreams (37 page)

Jenni's kind words and warm hug had tears forming in Faith's eyes and so she pulled back. She needed to tell Jenni there was no baby, but the moment she said it out loud, it would be real. She'd no longer have any tangible connection to Monty or his family.

‘Thanks Jenni,' she managed, ‘but luckily for Monty, it was a false alarm. I'm sorry. You're not going to be a grandma just yet.'

‘Oh. I see.' Jenni tried to cover her disappointment, but Faith—feeling her own deep in the pit of her heart—recognised the shared emotion.

‘I mean it, Faith. Don't nurse your broken heart alone. I'm only at the other end of the phone line.'

But somehow Faith knew she needed to learn to get by without the Montgomerys. Words were one thing, but in the end, blood was thicker than water.

To try to take her mind off Monty, she threw all her energies into the clean-up. Keeping busy didn't annihilate the pain or make her forget, but it had to be better than sitting around wallowing. She didn't need Jenni's tea leaves to see much baking and hard manual labour on her horizon.

Mid-afternoon, when the hall looked as if it had never been used at all, Ryan, Ruby and Adam tried to cajole her into a few drinks at the pub, but she turned them down. One day she'd be ready to face the world again, but today was not that day.

As she drove out of town on her way back to Forrester's Rock, she couldn't help but slow slightly while passing Monty's place. She stared blankly at the empty driveway, the blinds pulled all the way down and the front gate shut for the first time in all the years he'd lived there. She fought back tears. It all added up to one thing: Monty had left Bunyip Bay already.

And this time he wouldn't be back.

Monty pulled over at the entrance to Clancy's Breakaway and stared up at the old welcome sign, trying to summon some of the enthusiasm he'd felt the first time he'd laid eyes on it.

This was it. After years of toiling hard, sacrificing luxuries and skipping holidays to put money in the bank, his dream was reality. Every square centimetre of the eight hundred hectare property belonged to him. Well, him and the bank, but as long as he worked hard and paid his mortgage, it was his. So what was wrong?

He told himself that once he'd had a shower and a good night's sleep, he'd be ready to get stuck into work. The long drive had fatigued him. Getting sweaty on his own property was exactly what he needed to pull him out of this slump.

He'd called Tim and Nora first thing that morning and accepted their invitation to arrive a few days early. He looked forward to spending a few days with Tim, learning the ropes, before the older couple moved on. Part of him couldn't wait to see them, but the other part dreaded their inevitable questions about Faith.

With a sigh, he took his foot off the brake, drove under the welcome sign and over the cattle grid. He'd have to get the sign changed, although his name alone would look lost up there. Forcing that depressing thought aside, he continued ahead, reacquainting himself with the lay of the land. In the paddock to his right, the cattle looked up from gnawing on feed and eyed him warily, as if they knew he wasn't qualified to look after them.

After a kilometre or so, the homestead came into view, and his pulse quickened at the sight. Atop a hill much greener than the ones back in Bunyip Bay, the large house with its splendidly wide verandahs appeared more magnificent than he remembered. Tim and Nora had obviously tidied the garden and surrounds ready for the handover. He slowed the ute, parked, and had barely slammed the door before Tim and Nora were upon him.

‘It's so fabulous to see you again,' Nora called as she bustled down the cobbled path towards him, an apron once again wrapped around her waist. ‘Where's Faith?'

He swallowed. ‘She's coming later. She had things to tie up in Bunyip Bay first.' He wasn't proud of the lie, but when push came to shove, the truth hurt too damn much.

‘Oh, that's a pity.' Nora looked deflated, but she seized Monty in a hearty hug nevertheless. ‘I was looking forward to seeing her before we left.'

‘Leave the poor bloke alone, Nora.' Tim offered his hand to shake Monty's. ‘He's obviously gutted to have left her behind. Let's not rub salt in his wounds.'

Monty wondered if Tim guessed he wasn't telling the whole truth, but maybe that was simply paranoia. ‘You've been busy,' he said, gesturing to the tidy verandah and front yard, now free of all Nora's gnomes and other ceramic knick-knacks. Close up, the garden didn't have the same appeal without them.

‘We knew you'd have your hands full,' chortled Tim. ‘The least we could do was make sure you didn't have to worry about the house or garden for a while.'

‘Thanks. I appreciate it.'

‘Well, let's not stand around jibber-jabbing.' Nora clapped her hands together. ‘Help Monty unload his stuff then let's get inside and eat. You must be starving after such a long drive.'

There wasn't much to unload; he'd thrown only his clothes and the basics in the back that morning. Everything else was packed away in boxes ready for the truck on Tuesday. Mrs O'Neal, bless her Anzac-cooking soul, had agreed to let the removalists in, supervise the removal of his limited furniture and do a thorough clean when they were gone. He'd tried to pay her, but she wouldn't hear of it. Not allowing himself the chance to look back, he'd fled Bunyip Bay a couple of days earlier than planned.

Now, there was nothing to do except look to the future.

After three days of intensive instruction from Tim, Monty waved the old couple goodbye. He was both happy and sad to see them go. Glad because he felt more than ready to start this new phase of his life, sad because he'd miss their company.

During the next few weeks, he did nothing but work. He barely had time for eating and sleeping, never mind thinking. He fetched supplies in town, met his neighbours—a crotchety old couple on one side, a young couple with two hyperactive kids on the other—signed up for the local volunteer fire brigade, and met the local vet, Ava. He was red-blooded enough to acknowledge she was gorgeous, but all he could think about was how well she and Faith would have got on. Ava gave him some cattle advice and put him in touch with a nearby farmer who had a kelpie pup to sell. He named the dog Rooster because his bark sounded a bit like a chicken's call and he woke long before the sun every morning.

Finally, he hired a keen eighteen-year-old who just happened to have experience with cattle to help him round the farm. The boy was the youngest of four sons of a local farmer, and there was no work for him on his own family property. Monty recognised a bit of himself in the hardworking teenager, who also spoke about one day buying his own farm. They often shared a beer at the end of a hard day's work.

The days were hectic—if he wasn't busy with the cattle, he was doing fencing repairs and other property improvements—but at night the place echoed with the emptiness. Never one to spend idle hours watching TV in the past, he now had the blasted box on all the time just to fill the silence. Rooster was pretty good company, but the one-way conversations grew dull after a while. He'd taken to watching ghastly reality shows about people who couldn't sing or dance trying to prove they could.

On those quiet nights, his thoughts always drifted to Bunyip Bay. He'd picked up the phone numerous times to ring Faith, but always put it down again. He spoke to Adam once and his mum a couple of times, and although they tried to be enthusiastic, the calls never lasted long. He didn't ask about Faith nor did they mention her, which left giant silences in the conversation.

Early one evening, about a month after his arrival, the phone rang and Monty all but pounced on it. ‘Hello?'

‘Hi, sweetheart, how you doing down there?'

‘Oh, hi, Mum. I'm good.' Settling back on the couch, he picked up the remote and switched off the television. He could find out who got kicked off
The X-Factor
later. ‘We've just finished ear-tagging the calves and they're all growing really well. I've been reading up about the weaning process, because we'll have to start that in a few months.' He babbled on about every tiny thing he'd done that week, dancing around the one thing he really wanted to know—whether Jenni had heard from Faith lately.

‘That's so great, honey. I'm pleased it's working out so well for you down there.'

‘Thanks Mum. And what about you? Anything new in the Montgomery household?' He put his feet up on the crate he still used as a coffee table. He and Faith had talked about buying furniture from Albany, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to make that trip alone.

‘Not really, same old same old, and that suits me just fine.' She paused a moment. ‘Listen, honey, I'm not sure how you'll feel about this, but Will would like to bring Pippa down to you for a visit.'

‘Great. I'd love to see you all.' He was immensely excited about the idea of showing his family round his property, playing host.

‘That's the thing. They want to come by themselves.'

His smile drooped. ‘Really?'

‘Yep. We've looked into it and there's a bus that comes into Mount Barker—'

‘I know it, but are you sure it's a good idea? It's a long trip.' Will's social skills tutor had taught him how to navigate the bus in Perth, but he had always hated long-distance journeys in a car. How would he cope being confined on a bus for that long with a bunch of strangers? And what if something wasn't to his liking down here and he totally lost it? Monty hadn't had to deal with anything like that in years. The panic rose in his chest.

‘Darling, Will's come a long way since you lived with us. He catches the bus with Pippa all the time. I'll drop them off in Perth, and you'll be there to pick them up in Mount Barker. Simple. I'll give them a list of towns to tick off on their way. They'll love that.'

‘Okay. I'd love to see them.' He realised he actually meant it. ‘But you'll have to email me a checklist to make sure I've got everything sorted for them down here.'

‘He doesn't want that.'

‘What?'

‘Daniel, Will wants to live a normal life. He knows he's different, and he likes being different, but he also wants to learn to deal with things outside his comfort zone,' his mum explained. ‘Just do exactly what you'd do for any other guest and
enjoy
their company.'

At her emphasis on the word enjoy, he wondered if she'd guessed how lonely he felt down here.

Have you heard from Faith lately?
The question almost slipped out but he held it back at the last moment. What if she told him something he didn't want to hear? Like Faith hadn't spared a moment's thought since he'd left and had revived her mission to find herself a man. What if she'd been successful? The microwave pie he'd had for dinner swirled in his stomach at the thought.

‘All right. Let me know when they've booked a ticket and I'll be at the bus stop.'

‘Thanks, honey.' She paused, but the tone in those two words told him there was more to come, something he might not want to hear. ‘I know it wasn't always easy on you having Will as a brother.' She paused again. ‘But he was—
is
—really lucky to have you. Don't let the past dictate your future.'

‘You need to put more oomph into your throws. Remember, you're a team, not seven individuals battling it out against seven other individuals.'

Faith smiled as she gave her girls a pre-training pep talk, and their enthusiastic faces smiled back. Funny how your world could fall apart at the seams, yet life around you continued on as normal. Daisy (surprisingly) still needed her daily milking sessions, her netball girls (amazingly) were undefeated so far this season, and life on the farm (blessedly) was as non-confrontational as it had been in a long time. Her father was finally talking about taking a holiday, and he and Ryan had not only been encouraging her to do more farm work, but actually seeking her out and requesting help.

Despite all this, life without Monty took some getting used to.

‘Okay, five laps round the netball courts and then we'll get stuck into some real training.'

As the girls charged off towards the other end of the court, Faith turned at the sound of footsteps behind her and waved at Ruby approaching from the car park. Where once she might have assumed Ruby was coming to try and poach her girls for horse riding lessons, now she welcomed her friend. ‘Hey.'

‘Hi there.' Ruby nodded towards the girls and patted her flat stomach. ‘Maybe I should train with them. All those treats you've been feeding me are starting to take effect.'

Faith forced a laugh. Ruby wasn't the only one complaining about her baking efforts. The local IGA had had to up their flour supplies. Her home freezer had enough cakes and biscuits to see the Forresters through three harvests and seeding seasons. Dad had mentioned buying an additional freezer, and Ryan reckoned that if his girth grew any more they'd also need a larger harvester to accommodate him in a few months time. Faith couldn't help it. Cooking was the only thing that gave her any comfort, but no amount of baking could fill the massive hole in her heart.

‘What're you up to?' she asked Ruby, hoping her friend wasn't going to try to convince her to head to The Palace after training. It just wasn't the same without Monty, and although Ruby had made more than a few mentions of the other fish in the sea, Faith wasn't ready to go there.

‘Actually, I've come to ask you a favour.' Ruby adjusted the flower in her hair.

As the girls passed by on their first lap, Ruby and Faith claimed one of the benches that bordered the courts.

‘Go on.' Faith tried to keep the dread out of her voice.

‘Since you did such a fabulous job with the Barking Ball, I was wondering if you'd like to help me organise the Undies Run.'