Where the River Runs Page 4

  ‘What about some of the online dating agencies?’ Kim asked. ‘I’ve heard of people having success with those.’

  ‘Not for me, thanks, Kim.’ Jack started to walk back to his desk. ‘All sorts of crazies online. Anyway, I’ve got you to cook for me. And I don’t have to put up with any of the crap that goes with having a woman. Best of both worlds.’

  Kim blinked and turned to look at Jack through the glass window.

  He was grinning.

  ‘He’s winding you up, sweetie,’ Dave said, resting his hands on her hips and giving her a gentle squeeze.

  Kim turned back to Dave. ‘What were you looking so worried about when I first arrived?’

  He gave her a summary of the phone call.

  ‘How awful!’ Kim’s voice was full of sympathy. ‘What can we do to help?’

  Dave smiled, knowing that would be her response. ‘I’m not sure. It’s not a good time for me to go on leave, but it’s their busiest period of the year. I’d have to get special permission to go. I guess we’ll just need to see how things play out.’

  ‘But, honey, you need to go over there and make sure they’re all okay. What if he dies? You can’t not go!’

  Tapping on his desk for a moment, Dave thought about it a little more. She’d just verbalised everything he was thinking. Then he shook his head. ‘No, not at this stage,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t think I need to go back unless I’m asked to. So, what are you doing for the rest of the day now you’ve fed Jack?’ He closed the conversation before Kim could say anything else.

  ‘I’m on my way to the roadhouse. Couple of the girls have called in sick. Bit of a bugger because I’m behind in cooking the meals for Catering Angels. I’ve heard that there are three older men whose wives are in hospital, so I wanted to go and see them and offer them the service.’

  Two years ago Kim had started her own catering service for people who were unable to look after themselves while their loved ones were in hospital. Her first customer had been Fiona Forrest after her husband had been killed. The business had grown exponentially since then and now she had clients all over the shire.

  ‘Late night for you then?’ he asked, rubbing her shoulders. ‘Want me to cook tea?’

  ‘I’d like to be home by six if the night shift doesn’t call in sick. Let’s hope the summer flu hasn’t hit them as well!’ She turned around and gave him a kiss. ‘See you tonight.’

  As Kim left the phone rang again, and Dave looked at it before answering, hoping that it wasn’t any more bad news.

  ‘Dave, it’s Kelly from over at the Giftory. I’ve just had a shoplifter.’

  ‘Do you know who it was?’ asked Dave, standing up and reaching for his hat.

  ‘No, not a local. I’ve got the video footage and I’m sure they left in a blue sedan.’

  ‘I’ll be right there.’

  Chapter 4

  Dinner at Shandona on Chelsea and Aria’s first night was a silent affair.

  Except for Aria chatting away as if nothing was wrong, there was only the clink of cutlery and the occasional dog bark outside.

  That was the good thing about kids, Chelsea thought as she pulled the covers over her sleeping daughter’s shoulders and listened to the sound of thunder rumbling around the sky. They didn’t always pick up on the vibes that adults were putting out.

  The silence had given her time to observe her father; he had aged dramatically in the ten years she’d been gone. She’d come to the conclusion he was a very old sixty-three. The way he moved around you’d be forgiven for thinking he was in his eighties.

  Standing at the window now, she looked out into the blackness. Storm clouds had scurried over the hills late in the afternoon, a mixture of vivid white and inky volcano-looking clouds that blacked out the sun and cooled the landscape with their shade.

  The noise of the birds and animals had stilled, making the atmosphere crackle with anticipation. The first sound of thunder had come from behind the ranges, but it hadn’t taken long to move across and sit right over the house.

  Aria had never heard thunder like it, nor seen rain so heavy. Nor smelled the intoxicating aroma of rain on dry earth. They’d both sat watching at the window, mesmerised, and Chelsea had told her daughter stories of storms she remembered from when she was a child—how the rivers ran just with a trickle at first, how she’d raced in front of the water as it first started to flow down the riverbed. Then later how fast and deep the water would be, how noisy! And when the river had stopped running, how she’d played in the puddles left behind.

  Before the rain had become very heavy, her father had retired to his room, saying his ankle was still sore from the fall he’d had in the sheep yards last week. Chelsea had offered to look at it for him, perhaps strap it, but he’d declined and limped into his bedroom. He seemed to spend a lot of time in there.

  Chelsea had wondered if he’d done that so he wouldn’t have to make small talk with her. Even in the short time she’d been home, she could feel a change in Tom—as if he didn’t fully concentrate or wasn’t interested. She couldn’t put her finger on what was going on with him.

  Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the creek and gumtrees with an eerie white light. The landscape was familiar yet unrecognisable to her. The stark purple soil was devoid of any feed, and the trees and bushes looked brittle. She knew the soil would erode with the force of the water flowing down the hills.

  She hoped the stock had shelter—trees and bushy groves to nestle among. The storm after the heat this morning, along with a lack of feed, wouldn’t make tonight very comfortable for them.

  Even though she hadn’t seen any of the stock her father had talked about, the signs they were being hand-fed were there. The ute had a sheep feeder hooked up behind it and there was an auger in the silo ready to pump the grain into the feeder so Cal could trail-feed the sheep.

  She’d been glad to hear the first few drops of rain turn into a steady stream. Even her dad had finally smiled, for the first time since Cal had left.

  ‘Rivers will be running by morning,’ he had said by way of goodnight. ‘I hope you’re prepared to be stranded here for a while.’ He paused. ‘Still, they probably won’t take long to go down. Been so dry for so long, the moisture’ll disappear into the soil pretty quick.’

  From her childhood, Chelsea knew the rivers were never uncrossable for long—a day or two at the most. And it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go, although she felt uncomfortable and uneasy, as if she were waiting for something to happen. For her dad to blow up. For the memories to overtake her. For tears and anger and resentment to build to breaking point.

  Then what would happen?

  When the lightning struck again, she could see water in the bottom of the creek.

  ‘Water sheets off the hills around here,’ her father had said when she was young. She’d asked him why the rivers ran so quickly and easily—even when there had only been a small amount of rain. ‘It’s that heavy type of soil so the water doesn’t soak in, just runs off. Great for dams but there’s got to be a fair bit of rain to really wet the earth.’

  As she walked through the house, pinpricks of goosebumps ran across her skin. The rain on the dry ground smelled beautiful, familiar, and she loved it.

  She pulled opened the door and went out onto the verandah. The air was still hovering between being warm and quite cool. She knew instinctively that if it wasn’t raining tomorrow, it would be sultry. Maybe the storms would build up tomorrow afternoon and deliver more rain.

  Even after being away for so long, she didn’t need to be told this country needed a good drenching. Between the kangaroos, which looked like they were in plague proportions, and the emus, there was very little feed for the stock.

  ‘It has rained so little this year, we only have the core ewes left. Nothing more. Country can’t handle them,’ her father had said when she’d commented on the number of emus she’d seen driving in.

  Drought, even though it was an e
motional subject, was a safe topic and Chelsea had listened to Tom talk, picking up the farming language as if she’d never been away. He hadn’t asked about her music, or her career, or who Aria’s father was. The little that had been said was all about the farm. Safe talk.

  She didn’t mind; perhaps neither of them was ready for the conversations she knew they would have to have.

  Chelsea held her hand out and jumped as the drops fell on her hot skin. The healing rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up tonight and for that she was grateful. She pulled up a chair and sat with her legs tucked up underneath her, enjoying the sound of nature’s music.

  A noise outside her bedroom window woke Chelsea and it only took a few seconds to realise her heart was pounding hard. Confused, she tried to work out what was going on. Then she heard it again: bang, bang, bang!

  ‘Dale.’ She muttered her brother’s name and jumped out of bed. Overcome with memories, she felt her chest constrict and her breathing become ragged. Then she heard Cal’s voice.

  ‘Hello? Tom, you around? I need the phone. Tom?’ Cal’s tone was urgent and Tom didn’t answer. Thank God it wasn’t the police as her body had been telling her a moment ago. She could see sunlight filtering in through the slim gap in the curtains. It was morning and she must’ve overslept. Chelsea threw on her dressing gown and went out to greet him.

  ‘Hi, Cal, come in. I’m not sure where Dad is.’

  ‘I just need the phone,’ Cal answered, taking off his hat as he stepped inside. ‘I’ve got a problem.’

  ‘Use Dad’s office. I’m sure that’ll be okay. I’ll check his bedroom and see if he’s in there.’

  She went through the passageway and called out: ‘Dad? Dad, are you there? Cal is looking for you.’ The house remained silent.

  A trickle of alarm ran through her as she looked at the clock on the sitting-room wall and saw it was past ten.

  Aria!

  She ran to her daughter’s bedroom and found the bed empty.

  ‘Breathe,’ she muttered to herself. ‘They’ll be somewhere together.’

  Heading back to the kitchen, she searched the bench for a note but found nothing. She looked around frantically for a two-way she could call on. Nothing. She’d ask Cal.

  She could hear the final piece of the conversation: ‘Yeah, no worries, Dave. Cheers, mate. See you soon.’

  ‘Dad’s not here and neither’s Aria,’ she said, trying not to sound panicked.

  ‘Check the garage,’ he instructed. ‘If the ute isn’t there, he’ll probably be out checking the fence lines for damage.’

  ‘Do you have a radio you can call him on? Or a phone?’

  ‘Mobiles don’t work out here.’

  Shit, she knew that. Hers hadn’t rung since she’d been here. It hadn’t bothered her.

  She ran outside and felt the rain on her skin. How nice it hadn’t stopped, but now it was a slow, misty sprinkling. Yanking open the sliding door into the garage, she saw it was empty and her heart rate started to slow down. Cal was right. They’d be out looking at dams or fences or stock. Tom had taken Aria for a short drive to see the sheep yesterday and she’d loved it, asking to go again as soon as they could.

  Yes, that was where they’d be.

  She started to jog back and saw Cal getting out of his ute. He must have changed his motorbike for the ute because of the rain, she thought.

  ‘I’ve called him,’ he said. ‘Didn’t answer.’

  ‘The ute isn’t there, so you must be right.’

  ‘Get dressed and we’ll go for a look.’

  He sounded casual enough, but Chelsea picked up an underlying tightness in his voice. ‘Is there reason to be worried?’ she asked.

  Cal shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so but it has been raining. They might be bogged and need a pull.’

  Chelsea suddenly realised she was still wearing her dressing gown and her face flamed red. ‘Late night,’ she stuttered. ‘Be right back.’ The look on Cal’s face told her he wasn’t impressed.

  Why would he be? He’d probably been working since it was light and here she was sleeping in until halfway through the day! He wouldn’t have understood that ten in the morning had once been early for her. Her concerts had rarely finished before eleven and then she’d had to get home and wind down. Sleep often hadn’t come until the early hours of the morning.

  Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she tossed her head, pretending not to care what Cal thought. Truth was, she did, because lately she cared what everyone thought of her. Four years ago people’s opinions of her would have barely registered. But when the conductors had started to shun her, she’d realised her careless attitude had hurt her greatly. Now she cared.

  Pushing all those thoughts aside, she quickly combed her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, fastening it with an elastic band before running out the door.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, getting into the ute.

  ‘No matter,’ Cal said as he started the engine.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘I reckon he’ll be over near the reserve,’ Cal answered. ‘Now I think about it, I’m sure I saw fresh tracks there when I went to get the pump earlier this morning.’ He stopped talking while he put the ute into gear and took off, the wheels spinning for a couple of seconds on the wet ground. ‘The fences tend to get washed away from there with the smallest amount of rain, because they run through a deep creek. We’ve got one mob of ewes up there and another in the next paddock. He won’t want them boxed up.’ He glanced over at her. ‘Getting mixed up together,’ he clarified.

  Chelsea straightened and lifted her chin. ‘I know what boxed up means.’ She stared out the window and watched the drenched countryside pass by. The trees had been washed clean from all the dust, and instead of being coated in purple, the leaves were now a vivid green. Puddles had formed on the roads, and out in the paddocks there seemed to be a tinge of green already forming. The grass would grow quickly now, she knew, because the ground was warm.

  They bounced over the two-wheel track in silence.

  ‘How long have you worked for Dad?’ Chelsea finally asked, feeling the need to fill the silence.

  ‘Four years this Christmas,’ Cal answered.

  ‘Really?’ Chelsea wanted to fold into herself. That probably meant he knew everything about her. He’d been working for her dad since Aria had been born. He’d been here when her mother had died. He’d know about Dale. And he’d know Chelsea hadn’t returned for her mother’s funeral.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ Cal replied.

  ‘You didn’t say why you needed the phone.’

  Cal yanked on the steering wheel and turned down a side track to where the road was covered by water. ‘Look there.’ He pointed to the river. Muddy brown water was flowing strongly, gurgling and splashing around the base of tree trunks and up to the edge of the bank. And in the middle of the crossing was a white ute.

  ‘Geez!’ Chelsea exploded as she saw Aria sitting on the roof and her father standing in the middle of the stream. ‘What’s he doing?’ She leaned forwards and peered through the rain-splattered windscreen.

  Not answering straightaway, Cal continued to watch.

  ‘There,’ he finally said, pointing. ‘Ewe caught in the fence. She’ll be too heavy for him to lift.’ He parked and pulled out a pair of rubber boots from behind the seat. He ripped off his Rossi boots and pulled on the rubber ones. Within a few moments he was wading through the water to help her dad.

  ‘Aria, don’t move from there, honey!’ Chelsea knew the water wasn’t flowing fast enough for the ute to be swept away, but her daughter couldn’t swim. What if she fell from the roof? She had a sudden image of her daughter falling into the swirling waters and disappearing. A mixture of fear and anger swept over her. How dare her father put her daughter in such a dangerous situation!

  Aria heard Chelsea call and swung around, her face alive with delight. Her hair was wet and push
ed back from her face while her cheeks were red from the cold water. ‘Fun, Mummy!’ she called above the noise of the water.

  ‘Oh, you think, do you?’ Chelsea muttered, trying not to show she was concerned. She plastered a smile on her face. ‘That’s good. But don’t move until Papa gets back there, okay?’

  Aria waved and went back to watching Tom and Cal untangle the ewe and, finally, lift the water-laden animal onto the back of the ute.

  Once she was made secure, Tom held out his arms to Aria and she scrambled forwards. Chelsea held her breath as Tom lifted her into the front seat. Climbing in next to her, he reversed the ute close to where Cal was parked.

  Only moments later, both her father and daughter were safely on dry ground. It was then and only then that Chelsea felt as if she could breathe again.

  ‘I gotta go,’ Cal said. ‘Got to meet Dave Burrows up on the road.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, son,’ Tom said. ‘Appreciate it. Wouldn’t have got that soggy old girl up on the back without your help. I’ll take her back to the mob. Hopefully she’ll dry out quick and be back on her feet.’

  ‘No worries but, Tom, we’ve got a problem.’ He glanced at Chelsea as if he didn’t want to talk in front of her.

  Chelsea crossed her arms and stared at him. She was still angry with her father and she could be angry with Cal too if she needed to.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, this Dave Burrows, he’s the local copper.’

  Tom squinted. ‘What are you meetin’ him for?’

  Aria chose that moment to try to open the ute door and clamber back inside. ‘Mummy, I’m cold.’

  Chelsea, torn between wanting to hear more and helping her daughter, took off her rain jacket and beckoned Aria to come over to her.

  ‘There’s a problem up in Beckers paddock,’ Cal said in a low voice. ‘I went there first thing this morning. That pump we’ve been using, it’s on the edge of the well and the well is in the middle of the river.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The water’s come hammering down one side of the hill and washed a heap of soil away. Gouged out a deep crevice.’