Читать книгу Home to Hope Mountain - Joan Kilby - Страница 11
ОглавлениеCHAPTER THREE
“THANKS ANYWAY,” ADAM SAID, and scratched the last name off his list of potential counselors. “You have my number if you get an opening.”
He tried Diane for the fifth or sixth time. After leaving another message he pushed back from the desk in his study and went upstairs to knock on his daughter’s door. “Summer?”
“Yeah?” she said in a distracted, muffled voice.
He peeked in and found her lying on her stomach in bed, still in her pajamas, her red hair spilling across her shoulders. She didn’t even look up as her fingers flew over her phone, texting.
“Hey, kiddo. What do you call a lazy baby kangaroo?”
“Dunno.”
“A pouch potato.”
She groaned. “You need new material.”
“Can you give me a hand outside?”
“I’m talking to Zoe.”
“Say goodbye for now. I want to move the woodpile away from the house.” And he figured Summer would benefit if she got outside and did something physical instead of moping around indoors.
“That’s dumb. We’ll just have to walk farther to get wood for the fireplace during winter.”
He hoped she wouldn’t be living here next winter, but he wasn’t foolish enough to mention that. “It’s a hazard in the event of a bushfire. Come on.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you need to do something to earn the exorbitant allowance your mother gives you.”
“Hey, I do the dishes and clean my own room.”
“Wear sturdy shoes or boots and get yourself a pair of gloves from the toolshed.”
“Oh, all right.” With a heavy sigh she put down her phone.
Adam had moved two wheelbarrow loads from the house to a new woodpile he’d started beside the barn by the time Summer shuffled outdoors in Ugg boots and a hoodie. She waited with her hands tucked into her sleeves for him to trundle back.
He began loading wood, sparing a brief nostalgic thought for the old days when she’d been eager to help Daddy. “Come on, then.”
Slowly she pulled the gloves out of her back pocket and put them on. Then she picked up a chunk of firewood by her fingertips and dropped it into the wheelbarrow. “There are probably spiders in the woodpile. Maybe even snakes.”
“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“I didn’t believe that when I was five and I don’t believe it now.”
He chuckled, and her sullen expression cracked into a reluctant smile. “Fair enough. If you see a snake or spider you’re allowed to run screaming. Until then, pick up the wood like you mean it.”
“I don’t think it’s something you can ‘mean.’ You just do it.”
“Ever heard of mindfulness?” He wasn’t even sure where he’d picked up that expression. Probably from overhearing the women in the office talking. But it made sense. He’d done chores on his grandfather’s farm when he was a kid. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it was to focus on a simple, repetitive act like hauling wood. Doing reps on a weight machine at the gym just wasn’t the same.
“Mom’s the yoga person in the family.” Summer tossed three chunks of wood on the pile so hard one bounced out of the barrow. “Oh, I forgot. We’re not a family anymore.”
Twelve months had passed since the divorce. Adam had hoped Summer wouldn’t be feeling so raw by now. They’d never really had much opportunity to talk about his and Diane’s breakup. Since they’d moved out, his access visits with Summer had been movie-and-dinner combos with stilted conversation.
He picked up the fallen piece of wood and replaced it on the pile. “Sounds like you’re still pretty angry about that.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“How you feel matters to me.”
She stared at him, unsmiling. “What’re you going to do about it?”
He’d never felt so helpless. And that made him angry. “Not much I can do, I guess. The marriage is over and we all have to deal with it.”
“Why didn’t you and Mom try marriage counseling?”
“It wouldn’t have done any good.” He’d promised himself he would never say anything bad to Summer about her mother, but it was so tempting to set the record straight. Diane had been unfaithful and unrepentant. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, that’s right, brush off any talk of her. If you hadn’t been working all the time, maybe Mom wouldn’t have—”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have what?”
Summer looked away. “Nothing.”
Wouldn’t have had an affair? Was that what she’d been about to say? Adam picked up the wheelbarrow even though it was only half-full and pushed it quickly across the grass to the barn. Damn Diane for not being more discreet. It was bad enough that she’d cheated on him but to be so careless, so sleazy, around their daughter...
He didn’t know who her lover was and he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter. But he’d found evidence a few times when he’d come up for the weekend. Secretive phone calls, disappearing for unexplained long periods, an air of excitement that he knew darn well wasn’t about him.
“Hey, Dad, wait.” Summer caught up with him, panting from running. “Sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He tipped the barrow and the wood tumbled out. Reaching for a piece, he wedged it into position on the top layer. “Place it bark-up and point-down, see?”
He simply couldn’t talk to Summer about the five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. It was possible she didn’t know about her mother’s lover. Maybe all Summer had meant was that if he’d been around more her mother wouldn’t have left their city apartment. Maybe she simply wished he’d cared enough to ask Diane to stay....
As angry as he was with Diane, he was guilty of working long hours. He didn’t want Summer to have bad feelings about her parents—or at least no more than any normal teenager. He’d known when Diane moved to Timbertop and he stayed in the city that their marriage was over. He wasn’t concerned about her affair for his sake, only for his daughter’s.
“I am though. Sorry.” Summer kicked at the ground and dislodged a pebble. “I’ve caused you both problems.”
“The divorce wasn’t your fault.” He’d said it a million times before but he kept saying it because he wasn’t convinced she believed it. Otherwise, why else had she gone off the rails? He didn’t think it could be only about Bailey.
“I know.”
“Do you?” He searched her face.
“Yeah. ’Course.” She lifted her chin, cocky and defiant. “It’s never the kid’s fault. That’s in all the books and movies. It’s the grown-ups that mess things up.”
He gave her a wry smile that was more of a grimace. “And kids never do.”
She dropped her gaze as a tinge of pink crept over her cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”
“Oh, Summer.” He pulled her into a clumsy hug. She hesitated, then her arms circled his waist. “I just wish I knew what was bothering you so much.”
“Nothing’s bugging me.” She pulled out of his embrace and turned away, dashing her gloved hand across her eyes. “I’ll push the wheelbarrow.”
Adam let her have a few minutes by herself and stacked the wood he’d just dropped. When he got back to the woodpile she seemed calmer, if no more talkative.
“I haven’t been able to find a therapist nearby,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. He never knew what would set her off. “On Monday I’ll start phoning around in Shepparton and Healesville.”
“It would take forever to drive there and back.”
That was a slight exaggeration but it would be a hassle. “It’s either that or move into the city.”
“No.” She redoubled her time moving logs.
They loaded wood in silence for a moment. When the barrow was full, Adam paused and said gently, “If you talked to me, maybe you wouldn’t need to see a therapist. I’m on your side, Summer. Can’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Her face looked as if it was about to crumble and he started to reach for her, to give her another hug. Surely now she would tell him what was worrying her. Then she drew in a breath and her features hardened into a brittle mask that was so unlike his young daughter he instinctively took a step back.
“For the last time,” she yelled, her hands clenched at the end of rigid arms. “There’s nothing wrong and I’m not hiding anything.”
She stomped back inside the house, slamming the kitchen door behind her so hard the windowpane over the sink rattled.
Adam stared after her, feeling sick. Her intensity, her fury—or was it fear?—was downright frightening. Something was seriously wrong. And she was hiding something.
* * *
HAYLEY EMERGED FROM the woodland trail on Major and dismounted in her yard. She tied him to the fence, removed his saddle and slung it over the top rail. Then she brushed him down, wiping away flecks of sweat and removing tiny burrs. Hopefully with better weather coming she would get some trail rides. It wasn’t easy exercising all the horses by herself.
Hayley bet Summer Banks would love to ride. She had nothing against the girl and would happily have her help exercise the horses. But how did she ask when she’d turned down Adam’s request so brusquely?
“All right, big fella. You’ll do,” she said, giving Major a scratch behind his golden ears. She exchanged his bridle for a halter and put him back in the paddock with the others.
Carrying the saddle over one arm, Hayley headed back to the garage, Shane at her heels. As she went through the door her phone rang. She placed the saddle on its wooden peg and pulled her phone out of her breast pocket, hoping the caller wouldn’t be her friend Jacinta or her mother or anyone who wanted a long chat. She barely had time for a quick lunch before her therapy session with Dave, a retired man in his sixties.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hayley, hi.” It was Ian Young, the director of the Horses for Hope program. Based in Shepparton, he coordinated the funding for her and two other horse therapists in the state.
“Hey, Ian.” She dropped the saddle next to the door and shrugged out of her jacket. “I hope you’re not calling because you have another rescue horse for me. I can barely afford to feed the ones I’ve got.”
She was only joking, as Ian well knew. If another horse needed saving she would be the first to put her hand up. However, she was down to her last ten bales of timothy and didn’t have a clue where the next lot was coming from. She probably shouldn’t have been too proud to take Adam’s offer of grazing. If it had been anyone else she would have jumped at it.
“No, it’s not another rescue horse. But how’s Bo doing?” Ian sounded down and distracted, unlike his usual upbeat self.
“Excellent. The mange has cleared up and his new coat is coming in nice and glossy. Drop in next time you’re up this way. Are you coming to the bushfire memorial next month?”
“I’ll be there.” His parents had lost their home and Ian had lost a good friend. The bushfires had touched so many lives. Everyone had lost someone, it seemed, or knew someone who had. “Hayley,” he began haltingly, “I’m sorry, but...”
“What?” A chill settled over her shoulders. Instinctively she knew he was no longer talking about the memorial service.
He cleared his throat. “The program is finished.”
“I beg your pardon?” She walked over to the couch and sank onto a lumpy cushion.
“The government cut our funding.”
For about two seconds she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then she got to her feet but she didn’t know where to go. “In the middle of the program? They can’t do that.”
“They did. Nearly a year has passed. People have forgotten. The state wants the money for something else, a new highway or a railway crossing. Who knows?” Ian sounded defeated.
“What about my clients? What am I going to tell them? These people need help.”
“They can still access social services for counseling.”
“They’ll be shunted onto a waiting list.” Needing air, she opened the door and wrapped an arm around her waist against the chill. “If they can see a regular therapist why can’t they see a horse therapist?”
“You know what it’s like, Hayley. The bean counters move their columns of numbers from one ledger sheet to another and suddenly they’re able to balance the budget even though no more money has come into the coffers. It’s sleight of hand.”
“But why pick on Horses for Hope?”
“According to the official letter I got it’s been deemed ‘nonessential.’”
“Nonessential?” Hayley repeated forcefully. “Tell that to Dave Green, who suffers survivor’s guilt because he couldn’t save his wife and granddaughter. Working with Bo has given him a reason to go on living.” Hayley went outside to pace the muddy yard ringed by the charred skeletons of trees. “Or Samantha, who spent six hours huddled in her car while the forest blazed around her. Her anxiety attacks make it impossible for her to work.”
“Hayley, calm down,” Ian said. “You don’t need to convince me of the program’s importance.”
“Who do I talk to in the government to restore funding? Tell me and I’ll be down there in Melbourne tomorrow on the steps of Parliament.”
“It won’t do any good. I’ve talked to them all. There’s simply no money left.”
“Are there any other agencies that might fund the program? I could get testimonials from my clients.”
“I’m pursuing other options. So far nothing has panned out. I’ll keep you updated.”
“So how long can I continue before I have to pull the plug? Next week, the week after?” Ian didn’t reply and his silence told the story. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Right away?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “We’ve been operating in the red for the past month, waiting for the next check. Now we find out it’s not coming. You need to call your clients now, today, and let them know there won’t be any more sessions.”
Hayley tried to catch her breath around the tightness in her chest. As well as her concern for her clients, there was the impact on her. Her primary livelihood was over as of this minute. Trail rides were few and far between, partly because it was too early in the season and partly because so many of the trails had been burned out.
And then there were her horses to think about. What would happen if she couldn’t afford to feed them? If she had to sell one or two, which would she choose? She loved them all. Asha was her own special horse, though she couldn’t ride her without difficulty. But how could she get rid of her when she’d been through so much? And Bo and Blaze, Sergeant and Major. All were so dear to her.
“I have to go,” Ian said heavily. “I’ve still got a few phone calls to make.”
Hayley said goodbye. She needed to call Dave. He was due here in half an hour. She couldn’t make herself do it, couldn’t bear to hear the sound of his disappointment.
Listlessly she picked up her mail. There was a notice from the electric company, warning if she didn’t pay her bill within two days she’d be cut off. Wonderful. The icing on the cake.
She glanced at the clock. She couldn’t put this call off any longer. Feeling sick in her heart, she reached for the phone and dialed. “Hey, Dave.”
“Not late, am I?” he said gruffly. “I was just about to head out to your place.”
Hayley pressed the phone to her chest and tried to pull in enough breath to continue.
“Hayley, you there?”
“I’m afraid I have bad news....”
* * *
ADAM DROPPED SUMMER off at school and continued on toward the main street shopping district, passing empty blackened lots interspersed with intact houses. He slowed as he passed a charred sign reading Hope Mountain Community Center. In the cleared area a large tent had been erected where donated goods were being redistributed.
He drove on, ruminating over how huge the loss of the community center was to a small town. His grandparents had relied on theirs as a hub of local social life. His grandmother in particular had spent a lot of time there with the Country Women’s Association.
His phone rang as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. He glanced at the caller ID. Diane, finally. “I see you got my messages. Thanks for calling back.”
“Sorry I’ve taken so long,” Diane said, sounding harried. “I’m at the hospital day and night.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Not great. They’re trying to stabilize her blood pressure and sugar levels before they operate. It’s now going to be a quadruple bypass rather than a triple.”
“That’s rough. Give her my best. I guess a box of her favorite chocolates wouldn’t be a good gift just now.”
Diane gave a weary laugh. “No, and no flowers, either. She’s developed hay fever from all the bouquets in her room.”
“I’ve been trying to call you to talk about Summer.”
“Is she still going on about getting another horse? I told her you’d have to approve it.”
“She wants a horse, yes, but that’s not the problem. She was caught shoplifting. She stole a pair of earrings from the local gift shop. Luckily the owner didn’t press charges, but this is serious.”
“She’s going through a phase. All kids do at that age.”
“Not all kids shoplift. She’s got real problems that need to be addressed. I can’t understand why you haven’t talked to me about her before this. Apparently she’s been in counseling at school for months.”
“You would have gotten a letter, same as I did.”
“I’m not absolving myself of responsibility. But hell, Diane, this is our child. Regardless of our own issues we have to do what’s right for her.”
“What do you suggest?” A note of tension crept into Diane’s voice. “I’ve got all I can handle taking care of my mother. There’s not much I can do for Summer from Sydney.”
“I don’t expect you to do anything. I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. I’m trying to find her a counselor outside school.” He paused, searching for tactful wording. “Is there anything else I should know about, anything going on in your life that might be upsetting Summer?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He’d never asked for details of her affair and he didn’t want them now—unless they were relevant to Summer. “That person you were seeing—”
“That’s over,” Diane said sharply. “And it had nothing to do with Summer. She’s fine, just moody like all teenagers. It’s hormones.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“She barely speaks to me, either. Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The cardiologist is coming to see Mom and I want to talk to him about the operation.”
“Wait a sec. Do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”
“Recovery from this kind of operation is measured in months. Hopefully by Christmas, but I don’t know. I’m seriously considering moving back to Sydney to be closer to Mom.”
“That’s the impression I got before you left. How would you feel about putting the house up for sale once school’s out? I’d just as soon get rid of it. The fire danger makes this an unsafe area.”
“Hope Mountain’s okay once you get used to how small it is. But do what you like. I’m over the place.”
She’d bought the property on a whim and abandoned it without a second thought. Even though her change of heart fell in line with his plans, he asked, “What about Summer? She seems attached to the town, and she’s desperate for a horse.”
“She’ll love Sydney, too. Once she sees the beaches she’ll forget all about horses. Oh, there’s the cardiologist. Say hi to Summer for me and tell her I’ll call her soon.”
Adam said goodbye and hung up. He doubted Summer would forget her love for horses that quickly. Diane had been less than helpful where their daughter was concerned, but he supposed she was preoccupied with her mother. At least he had her blessing to sell the property.
He went inside the grocery store and pushed his shopping cart around the aisles, stocking up on fresh fruit and vegetables and consulting his list for staples they were low on. He wasn’t much of a cook but he would have to learn. Man could not live on Diet Delight alone.
He threw in a couple of frozen pizzas and some chips to keep Summer happy and on impulse added extra items to drop off at the distribution center. At last he proceeded to the checkout.
“Hey, how are you goin’?” The thirty-something woman at the till had a high black ponytail, bright red lipstick and a cheerful smile. Her name tag read Belinda.
“Not bad, Belinda. Yourself?” He unloaded the groceries methodically, putting the cold things together, next the cans and finally the fruit and vegetables.
“Oh, I’m okay. Or I will be once I sell my house and blow this crazy pop stand.”
Ah, someone else besides him who didn’t go into raptures about Hope Mountain. “You don’t like it here?”
She snorted. “It’s the pits. What’s so beautiful about burned-up mountains?”
“The fire danger’s a real concern,” Adam agreed.
“You’re telling me. Every house on our block went up in flames except ours. My husband went out and bought ten lottery tickets. Me, I called Mort.”
“Who’s Mort?”
“The real estate agent. Thank God his office didn’t burn. I listed our house first thing. Bob, my husband, thinks I’m a coward. I told him, ‘You can stay but I’m getting out.’”
Diane had been working part-time for a local Realtor before she’d gone to Sydney—Mort must have been her boss. “Well, Belinda, I happen to think you’re smart for not wanting to live in a fire-prone region.”
“Thanks very much. You’re pretty smart yourself.” She scanned a box of cereal and bagged it. “Are you a local? I figure you must be with all the groceries you’re buying. No one buys four bags of sugar for the weekend. But if you don’t know Mort...” She trailed off, waiting for an explanation.
“I live here for now.”
“How long are you staying?” Belinda seemed to have all the time in the world to chat. And apparently she thought he did, too.
“I don’t know. Four or five months. Six tops.”
She swung the filled bag over to the loading area and started on the next. “I’d say that makes you a local.”
“No, really, I’m just passing through.”
She cocked her head with an infectious grin. “But slowly.”
He smiled back at her. “Yeah, slowly.”
Too slowly for his liking. In business he was the hare, not the tortoise. He moved quickly and decisively. Now he had to put on the brakes and wait for Summer to heal.
Belinda cracked her gum. “So what’s the deal, are you trying to sell your house and not getting any bites? Join the club.”
Now she had his attention. “Are that many people leaving? There seems to be a lot of building going on.”
“People are either determined to stay or determined to leave. It all depends. So what’s holding you up?”
“It’s complicated.” Did people really spill their guts to complete strangers in this town? He never had conversations like this with the guy at the convenience store below his apartment building. He liked Belinda all right, but he wasn’t sure he wanted a heart-to-heart with her.
“Hold your cards close to your chest, don’t you? That’s okay. We all got personal shit going on. I won’t even ask you about all the sugar.”
Adam smiled. “Two bags for me. Two for a friend.”
“Sweet on her, are ya?” Belinda winked at him.
He chuckled. Not likely.
“If you ask me,” Belinda went on. “The government should buy us all out and bulldoze the town. Everyone should move someplace where the firefighters have a chance to put out the fire and where residents can get out safely. There’s only one road in and out of this place. It was cut off in three spots. People were trapped.”
“But there were warnings of extreme fire danger,” Adam said. “People should have left earlier.”
“Maybe so. But folks have a legal right to stay and defend their property.” Belinda stacked the last grocery bag in the cart and rang up the total. “That’ll be one hundred and fifty-five dollars and twenty-eight cents. Any cash out?”
Adam handed over his credit card, then checked his wallet. He had only sixty dollars on him. “I’ll have an extra hundred, thanks.”
She rang it through and passed him two fifty-dollar bills. Adam dropped them both into the bushfire rebuilding donation jar on the counter. “I can’t believe the town is relying on spare change to fund a new community center.”
“There’s a long list of stuff that needs replacing. The primary school, the maternal health clinic, half the police station...” Belinda shrugged. “It’s all going to take time, I guess. They have to start somewhere.”
He threw in another fifty from his wallet, leaving himself ten dollars.
Belinda’s eyes widened. “Thanks, er...”
“Adam.” He gathered up his bags. “Nice to meet you, Belinda.”
“Same.” She grinned widely. “See you around.”
“I hope not.” When she looked surprised, he added, “If I don’t, it’ll mean you sold your house and got out.”
Belinda laughed and cocked a finger at him. “Gotcha.”
Adam piled the groceries into the car and continued on down the main street, brooding on the state of the town. Nine months on there was still the faint whiff of burned wood in the air. Or was that his imagination?
He wasn’t a coward, dammit. People like him and Belinda were being sensible. Why didn’t more townsfolk cut their losses and start new lives elsewhere?
Spying the real estate office, he parked out front and went inside.
A balding man with a perfectly pressed dark suit and a white smile rose from behind a desk, buttoning his jacket. He held out a hand. “G’day. Mort Brooks. What can I do for you?”
“Adam Banks. I live out of town at a place called Timbertop. Diane Banks is my ex-wife. I believe she used to work for you.”
“Yes, nice to meet you,” Mort said. “I was sorry Diane had to leave. Although business isn’t exactly booming so it’s probably for the best. How is she? How’s her mother doing?”
Seemed like the whole town knew your business if you spent any amount of time in the place. To be fair, Mort genuinely seemed to care, and that was kind of nice. “As well as can be expected. She hasn’t had the operation yet.”
“If you talk to her, tell her I said hey.”
“Will do.” Adam glanced around the empty office. “Diane doesn’t plan on returning to Hope Mountain, and I don’t intend to stay long. I’d like to have Timbertop valued and put up for sale this summer.”
Mort’s smile dimmed. “You and a hundred other folks in the area. Nothing’s moving in this glutted market.”
“My place isn’t burned. It’s intact. Great location with views, horse stables and paddocks, five acres...” He trailed away as Mort, looking more like a funeral director than a Realtor, shook his head glumly.
“I’ll value it for you and I can put it on the market, no problem. But fantastic properties are going at bargain-basement prices. The question you have to ask yourself is—are you willing to take a bath on the place?”
Adam thought about it for all of five seconds. “I’ll take whatever I can get for it. It’ll be worthless to me if it burns to the ground.”
“Is it insured?” Mort asked.
“Yes, of course, but I wouldn’t rebuild.” He dragged a hand over the back of his neck. What if he was stuck with this white elephant? It wouldn’t hurt him too much financially, but the house was part of Diane’s divorce settlement and she would need another place to live. Morally speaking, he didn’t owe her another house, but he still felt responsible for her. And of course he was responsible for Summer.
Unless Summer could be persuaded to live with him.
He hadn’t realized until he’d come back to Hope Mountain just how much he missed his daughter and how nice it was to have her around, even in her black moods. They’d grown estranged over the past year and he wanted to reconnect. If she moved to Sydney with Diane he’d have an even harder time seeing her.
But she would stay with him if he kept Timbertop....
No way. The trees hadn’t suddenly grown asbestos bark.
Mort made a note in his day planner, a big book open on the desk. “I’ll come out next week and take photos. You never know. There are people picking up properties simply because they’re cheap. And there’s talk of a government buy-back scheme. You might qualify.”
“Can you time your visit during school hours? My daughter doesn’t know yet that I’m planning to sell.”
“No worries.”
No worries. He wished. Not telling Summer his intentions felt like a betrayal. Would she want to live with him after he sold the home she loved—even if he was doing it for her own good?
He drove back through town past the many construction sites. The townsfolk determined to rebuild were misguided. It was like building on a flood plain or in an earthquake zone. Just plain dumb. And yet people did it over and over again—that was how strongly they felt about a certain geographical location they called home.
A tiny part of him admired their resolve. Maybe he just wished he had a place that felt like home no matter what. Having a father in the armed forces, he’d been uprooted as a child more times than he could remember. The closest he’d come to a permanent home had been his grandparents’ farm. He and his brothers had spent most summers there with his mom while his dad was serving overseas.
Later, after he’d married, he and Diane had owned two houses in the city. Diane was into decorating, and they’d felt more like showrooms than homes. Give him a lived-in look any day. His apartment...well, he didn’t spend enough time there for it to look lived in.
Someday he would build his dream home. He’d designed it in his head many times, changing small details as he refined his ideas. It would be by the ocean, with a special place for him to put his drafting table. Mostly he worked on computers, but he still liked drawing by hand. The house would be filled with light from floor-to-ceiling windows. Bifold doors would open the house to the elements and let out onto a huge deck looking onto the water.
He pulled into the parking lot next to the distribution center and unloaded two bags of groceries. He carried them through the group of people milling in front of the counter. One half of the tent was given over to clothing, kitchenware and smaller items like books and even CDs. In the back were the major appliances. A man was trying to wrestle a fridge off a dolly and into place next to a washing machine.
Adam caught the eye of a fifty-something woman who was volunteering behind the counter. “Where do I put these?” he asked.
“I’ll take them.” She peered into one of the bags. “Meat, eggs, cheese... Fantastic. Thank you so much, er...?”
“Adam Banks. No big deal.” He nodded at the man with the fridge. “He looks like he could use a hand. Should I?”
“Oh, please do. There’s a whole truckload of heavy appliances to bring in. People have been so generous that some days we don’t have enough manpower to sort and store stuff.”
Adam thought of his own groceries growing warm in the trunk of his car. It wasn’t a hot day. How long could it take to unload a truck? The milk and meat would keep for an hour. Too bad about the ice cream. “How do I get back there?”
* * *
HAYLEY PARKED HER truck in the main street, on the diagonal, outside Molly’s Gift Shop Café. Shane sat up beside her in the passenger seat. He went everywhere with her, and she was especially glad of his moral support today. Sensing her discomfort, he put a paw on her leg and gave her a soulful look.
She ruffled the fur around his neck. “I’m okay, Shane. Just girding my loins, so to speak.”
Working with horses was what she did—lessons, trail rides, therapy. Selling postcards and pouring coffee was a big step backward, to the days before she’d found a way to make a living working with horses and being outdoors.
Being in town wouldn’t be so bad. At least there were the cheerful sounds of rebuilding going on. The clock tower in the middle of the main street had already been repaired and colorful petunias had been planted around its base. The pub on the corner was nearly ready to welcome locals back for counter meals and karaoke nights. It would be good for her to be around people more often.
“Hayley!” A petite brunette with shoulder-length curls rapped at her window. Jacinta, her best friend and the town librarian, motioned to her to roll down the window.
“What are you doing roaming the streets in the middle of the day?” Hayley got out of the truck and gave her friend a hug. As they moved to the sidewalk Shane bounded through the open door and sat at Hayley’s heel. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the library shushing someone?”
Jacinta laughed. “Between the resident poet holding forth every lunch hour and the book club ladies yakking, the place is pretty darn noisy.”
“Guess it’s a while since I’ve been to the library. I don’t have much time to read these days.”
“We haven’t caught up in ages.” Jacinta touched Hayley’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “You okay? Your eyes are all puffy. You haven’t been crying, have you?”
“Horses for Hope’s funding got cut.” Yesterday had been one long tear fest as she’d rung client after client, giving them the bad news. She’d told Dave she would treat him for free until funding came in from somewhere. He’d thanked her and refused, pointing out that she would need to get another job. She’d started to protest before realizing he was right.
She wasn’t even going to mention to Jacinta that her electricity had been cut off, too—a day earlier than threatened. Bastards. Well, she’d lived without power for a month in the immediate aftermath of the fires. She could manage again. Which reminded her: she needed to buy candles.
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Jacinta hugged her again. “I could go for an early lunch if you want to talk.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got something I need to do.”
Jacinta saw the direction of her gaze, to Molly’s shop, and frowned. “You’re not going to move in with Leif’s folks?”
“No.” She noted the quickly hidden relief on her friend’s face. “Why don’t you like Molly and Rolf? They’re wonderful. I’m closer to them than to my own parents.”
“They’re great. I have nothing against them. It’s just that...” Jacinta rubbed Hayley’s arm soothingly. “I know you’re still grieving and everything, but I’d like to see you move on at some point.”
“I am moving on, really. Molly and Rolf are friends, not just my in-laws. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
“Sure, but they keep you in the past.”
“I’m not going to cut them off.” They were practically the only people she saw regularly these days.
“Hey, I have a date on Friday with Jeremy, a pharmacist from Healesville. Do you want me to see if he has a friend?”
“Thanks, no. I’m good.”
“Hayley, you never get out anymore,” Jacinta accused. “You’re in danger of turning into a crazy horse lady, sitting home cleaning your bridles and knitting pullovers.”
“I’ll call you soon.” Hayley eased away from Jacinta, toward the Gift Shop Café. “We’ll get drunk and dance with cowboys.”
Grinning, Jacinta pointed a finger. “One of these days we are so going to do that.”
Dancing with cowboys in bars had been a joke between them since high school. Jacinta was an academic type and would sooner ride a bucking bronco than date a cowboy. And Hayley had been with Leif since graduation. Party girls they were not. But they’d never worried about it, being content with their lives. Now, as they closed in on their mid-thirties and Jacinta was still single and Hayley newly so, the joke seemed a tad less funny.
Hayley waved goodbye, then braced herself to go inside. She couldn’t dwell on the past. She had to look to the future. She was alive and healthy and determined to write her own story, not give up or blame fate for her misfortune. And how could she complain when she had a job she could just walk into for the asking?
“Sit, Shane.” The dog sat obediently. “Stay.”
Hayley took a deep breath and entered, setting the bell over the door jangling. To the right was the café with a meal counter, tables along the window and a small kitchen out the back. On the opposite side was the gift shop selling local handicrafts, paintings and Australiana. The place was empty except for Molly, who was behind the counter putting price stickers on koala key rings.
Molly glanced up at the bell and her round face brightened. “’Morning, Hayley. So nice of you to stop by.”
Hayley returned her mother-in-law’s warm smile. Truly, she had more blessings to count than things to complain about. “I’d like to accept your offer of a job, after all.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Molly leaned over the counter and gave her a hug, scattering the key rings.
They got coffee and sat in the café and talked about the job. Molly was terrific, telling Hayley she could have as many or as few hours as she wanted, making Hayley wonder if she really needed help or if this was a form of charity. But she couldn’t afford to be proud, so together they worked out a schedule that suited both of them.
“It’s a darn shame about the Horses for Hope program,” Molly said for the twentieth time, as Hayley prepared to leave.
“It is what it is.” Hayley shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.” She’d racked her brain all night on possible sources of funding and had come up with nothing but a headache. “Thanks again. I’ll see you Wednesday morning.”
Molly walked her to the door. “I’m so glad we’ll get to spend more time together. Ever since Leif...Well, it isn’t the same without you around. At least with you, Rolf and I can talk about our boy and remember all the good times we had.”
“Yeah.” Hayley’s smile faltered. Maybe Jacinta had a point. Sometimes with Molly and Rolf, she felt as though she was living in the past. She’d loved Leif and wanted to honor his memory, but some memories hurt.
Occasionally, in the morning before she was fully awake, she would forget what had happened and reach for him only to find the other side of the bed cold and bare. She’d open her eyes and see the roller door and the tools hanging on the walls, and reality would crash in on her. All that kept her going some days was her and Leif’s dream of building a full-time dude ranch. She loved the horse therapy, but she’d held that other dream so long it would feel like failure if she didn’t carry it out.
“Stay for lunch?” Molly said. “I made Thai green curry for today’s special.”
“Tempting, but I can’t. I’ve got another stop to make this afternoon.” If she wanted to keep her dream alive, she had to swallow her pride and take care of her horses. Simple as that. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
