Читать книгу Palmerstone Ridge - Kim Allen - Страница 4

Warm, Autumn colors filled the outback country town as the sun shimmered below the distant horizon. A tender breeze danced with the wind chime that hung from the veranda, filling the air with music. There was also a dull murmur from the crowd in the motel two doors down that were bringing the week to a close with stories and song. For Jeanette Walsh, neither sound attracted her attention. She was preparing for the next day’s busy trading in the country cafe.

Tomorrow was the big football game in town, and it was the one day that could sustain the cafe for a month. For a slender women of twenty two, she was proud of having the responsibility of locking up and preparing the shop on such a big occasion. The list of chores pinned onto the corkboard in the kitchen was getting smaller. The front doors were locked, shelves repacked, floors mopped, counters cleaned, money counted and balanced. She had completed everything that the front of the cafe needed, and now it was time for the back rooms.

Jeanette enjoyed working at the cafe. It had a nice family atmosphere. While not actually a part of the family, she was treated as part of it. She had worked at the same cafe for seven years. She liked working. It felt good for her soul. It also kept her doing something. When she left work, she wasn’t a social butterfly. She liked tending to her garden and the fresh vegetables and herbs that she grew. She was getting lonely within the small town. She knew everyone, and everyone knew and loved her, in their own way. Although, for the first time in a long time she was feeling insecure, she had a growing feeling that there was something more than what she knew.

Jeanette cleaned the preparation surfaces and made sure all the utensils were in their correct spots. She had to keep a clear path from the back entry of the kitchen into the spot for the two burner gas cooker. The only piece of equipment in the small kitchen that was missing. Bill and Debbie had to do an emergency run to Bourke, some hundred miles away, to get the cooker repaired. Of any day in the year that it could break down, it had to be the day before the football. At least they did have a chance to get it fixed before tomorrow. That was why she was in charge of closing up. They did not know when they would return, but it was going to be cutting it pretty close for tomorrow’s big day. They left Jeanette to secure and prep for tomorrow, while they sorted out the cooker.

Checking in on the list on the cork board, the next thing was to tally the meat locker. She made a list of what she needed to grab in the morning. She always made lists. Organization was something she did like, and she was good at. Her Dad had always made lists, and it was something that Jeanette followed. She was nearly finished the meat locker supplies when there was an awful sound from the front veranda. It sounded like someone had kicked a wet towel and let it fall on the floor. It didn’t sound threatening. Jeanette considered it for a moment, before returning to her list. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound again. From where she stood next to the meat locker, she couldn’t see anything.

She put down her list and pen, before peering around the kitchen door.

The evening was still. There was the chiming of the wind chime and the muffled chatter from the hotel, but from the back of the shop she could not see anything out of the ordinary. She grabbed the nearby broom and come through the kitchen to behind the counter.

‘Hello?’

Nothing moved. She stepped beyond the counter and ventured toward the front door. Looking out the main window, she could see the remains of someone’s dinner spread half over the veranda. ‘Oh, great’ she muttered, knowing that if she left it there it would dry and be harder to clean tomorrow. She returned to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket. Filling it with hot, soapy water before putting the broom back into its place and grabbing the mop.

As she unlocked the front door, she spied the back of the culprit in the shadows. Dangling from one arm from the last post of the veranda. He looked very wobbly on his feet, and oblivious to Jeanette. She thought about the issue, dealing with a drunk. Her first thoughts were to throw the bucket of water over him, but she had better manners than to do that to someone she didn’t know. She left the bucket and mop inside the front door and returned to the kitchen.

Jeanette found the biggest cup she could find, added two teaspoons of coffee and four teaspoons of sugar. ‘And always make it black,’ Jeanette sarcastically muttered, mocking Debbie as she stirred the sugar in. Armed with the steaming coffee, she was prepared to face her adversary. She took a deep breath, unlocked the door and took a step out into the coolness of the night.

Now he was completely wrapped around the veranda post, singing softly an unrecognizable song. She tentative stepped out onto the veranda. The wind chime gave a final ting, and then fell quiet.

‘Excuse me’, her voice shaking, betraying her confidence. There was no response from the shape on the post, beyond his song, ‘Till she loves me, true. Do du dee do.’

Jeanette took another step out of the door and with a little more gusto in her voice ‘Excuse me, Mister.’ This time he straightened, swayed a little, then turned toward her.

Jeanette caught her breath. Her heart fluttered at this tall, striking man. He had strong features. A long tangle of dusty hair and radiant blue eyes. He had a slender build, and was dressed nicely with jeans, button down shirt and ornate cowboy boots. Even with the remains of his dinner attached to his shirt, and a slight sway to him, she was lost in his eyes. Very slowly he blinked twice, which broke the spell.

‘Thought you could use a coffee.’ She held the steaming cup up for his inspection.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then his face broke into a smile. It was a warm smile, and again Jeanette felt her breath being taken away. He took a couple of steps toward her. Focusing diligently on the cup, he reached out his hands. It took him a moment to grasp it in his big, workman hands. Once he was sure he had the cup, he took a step backward finding the wall to prop himself up with. His legs held him up long enough to take a first gulp of coffee. After that he slid down the wall and settled heavily on his bottom. This caused some of the coffee to splash out of the cup on onto him. While Jeanette was sure that that would burn, it didn’t seem to bother him.

He let out a huge sigh. ‘Thank you. I think I’m a little … overdone.’

Jeanette let out a snort, ‘Ha, only a little?’ She was watching him, sizing up the situation and how this stranger may react. Jeanette only knew of one drunk, her Dad, and he had loved her. That had been how she thought every person acted when drunk.

Jeanette could remember her Dad going out on a Friday night, and coming home early in the morning. Jeanette would only hear a commotion and a lot of shouting, and Dad would then sleep well into the next day. A couple of times Mum had bruises in the morning, and usually told Jeanette that she had done something to herself in the garden. She knew that Mum didn’t like gardening that much to be working that hard in the garden. Dad never hurt or yelled at Jeanette. ‘Looks like you can hardly stand up.’

He took another drink of the coffee. ‘Yeah, two pot Pilman at your service,’ he said in a mocking tone.

‘Pilman? Is that your name?’

He sat, staring at the ground. He let out a whinny, reminding Jeanette of a horse, before he said, ‘Richard. Richard Pilman.’

Jeanette was satisfied that this guy was not going to do anything too random for a while. She slid back inside and returned with the bucket and mop. Richard was still on the ground, drinking the coffee.

She plunges the mop into the bucket and drew it out. ‘I haven’t seen you around before. What are you doing here in Cobar?’

‘Me and the lads finished up a shearing shed just west of here. The skipper has given us a bit of a break until the next shed. May ‘ave celebrated too hard today.’ Richard finished off the rest of the coffee in his cup. ‘Great coffee. Could I get another?’ Richard held the empty cup up, looked up at Jeanette and said ‘Please?’

Jeanette was dumbfounded. She was only half way through cleaning up the mess on the floor. He had used his manners and was polite, she couldn’t help but grant him his wish. She grabbed the cup and went off the kitchen to make another coffee. When she returned, Richard was asleep.

She gave him a gentle kick with her foot. ‘Aye, knucklehead. Do you want this coffee?’

Nothing else came from him than an incoherent muttering. ‘Great’ Jeanette spat sarcastically. ‘Well, not letting this go to waste.’ She had a sip of the coffee, put it down next to Richard, and continued cleaning up the veranda.

By the time Jeanette finished cleaning up the mess, and the chores on her list in the kitchen, she realized that the time was way past her finish time. There was no sign of Bill and Debbie, the street was deserted and the hotel had closed. Now what was she to do with this man? She didn’t really want to leave him on the veranda, he could catch his death of cold. And what would Bill and Debbie say if they found him on the doorstep when they get back.

She locked up the doors and did a final round to make sure all the lights were out. She looked down at her own clothes and they were now stained with the aroma of stale booze and vomit. Another ounce or two wouldn’t bother her. After a short deliberation, she resolved to take him home, and give him shelter for the night. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on and that intrigued her.

Once she made up her mind, nothing would stop her. She quickly scanned the road again, in the hope that someone would be able to help, but there was no one in sight. ‘Well, this had better be worth it’ she said as she bent over to him, putting her shoulder under his and heaved him to his feet. He was not light, and not very helpful. Lucky for Jeanette, she didn’t have that far to go.

In the early hours of the morning, Jeanette unlocked her front door. They both stumbled in and crash spread eagle across the floor. Retrieving herself from under the heap, Jeanette surveyed the mess. She felt exhausted, but knew she wouldn’t sleep peacefully until she had taken care of Richard and herself. As she was standing there, a soft snore eased from his lips. Jeanette smiled. He even snored cutely, but between her sweaty, spew soaked clothes and his alcohol stench, she was not going to be able to sleep. She was sensitive to aromas. In her house everything goes by her rules, and she had to get those clothes outside to the laundry. Now was not the time for modesty. Her house, her rules, whether he liked it or not.

She carefully rolled him onto his back. He toppled over quicker than expected when he got over his balance point, and landed with a heavy thud. Jeanette held her breath for a second. When a snore arose from his open mouth, she breathed a sigh of relief and carried on. While unbuttoning his shirt, she realized she was enjoying the curves of his body. It didn’t look like it, but under his shirt were some very refined muscles. Looks like the shearing work was keeping him in good physical shape. After sliding him out of his shirt, she pulled off his boots and socks.

She paused for a moment, looking him over. He looked striking without his shirt, and his tangle of hair half covering his face. Very peaceful. Was it too far to take off his pants? His heavy breathing gave away his deep sleep. If she left them on while all wet, he could be more likely to catch pneumonia. They needed to come off and go to the wash. He wore a big belt, and the buckle was harder to unclip than she anticipated, but she persisted until it opened. The button and the zip were effortless, and then she wrestled his pants down his well-muscled legs.

With him now down to his underwear, she dragged him to the sofa, and heaved his body onto the cushions. Jeanette went to the hall cupboard and retrieved a blanket which she used to tuck him in. She was happy. She had done all that she could for him. Now it was her turn. She grabbed the pile of dirty clothes from the floor and took them to the outside laundry. There, she took off her own clothes and left them all in the sink to soak. She went to the bathroom and soaked the days troubles away with a hot shower.

On her way to her bedroom, while wrapped in her towel, she stopped in the living room for one last look at Richard. He was now quiet and peaceful. A little smile crept over her lips and now completely exhausted, she collapsed into her bed.