Right As Rain (7 page)

It had only been her rock-like friendship that had kept him going those few weeks after Carol's death. Hugh leaned his head against the steering wheel. He'd been over and over the past with the doctor so many times. The guilt over the night Carol had her accident had driven him to cut the ties with his home. He'd taken up ag consultant work, first on Eyre Peninsula then Victoria and New South Wales. Distance made it easy for him to avoid coming home.

The outside light flicked on. Hugh turned to look but the back door remained closed. He sat back and cast his eyes along the verandah to the end, where its roof was propped up with a couple of posts. They protruded at angles like tent ropes. It had been like that for several years. His father was always going to fix it but never got around to it. His mother commented once that it could fall down around her and no-one would care. The properties always came first. With four sons they'd bought up land in several places. Hugh's three brothers lived on the other properties, all within close distance of the home place. If Hugh wanted to stay, this dilapidated house would eventually become his. He shook his head. That was definitely not going to happen.

A series of taps made him jump. He looked to the passenger-side window, where his father was peering in through the glass.

“You coming inside?” Allan McDonald moved his big frame around the front of the four-wheel drive towards the house without waiting for an answer.

Once again Hugh took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He only had to sit through the meal. After dinner his father would be on the phone to Hugh's brothers or watching the television. Hugh would help his mother clean up and then he would make an excuse for an early night. This would be the pattern of his existence while he did the fill-in ag consultant work.

Slowly, he made his way to the back door. He left his boots on the verandah and his hat on a hook just inside the door. Molly, their old black and white cat, was immediately weaving between his legs, butting her head against his shins. He reached down and picked her up, carrying her with him into the kitchen.

“Hello, love.” His mother greeted him with a smile and took the cat from his hands. “Go and wash up. Tea's ready.”

When he returned from the bathroom his father was already seated at the head of the large table and Molly was tucking in to some tasty morsel his mother had put on a plate on the floor for her. Hugh sat at the place set for him beside his father. Since he'd been home, at least one of his brothers and or some of their family had been here at dinnertime, but tonight it was just the three of them.

“Something simple tonight,” Mary said as she put steaming plates of savoury mince in front of them. “I've been in the garden all day. Lost track of time.”

His father made a low snorting sound that annoyed Hugh, but his mother wasn't fazed.

“Wait till you see what I've done, Allan.” She sat down opposite Hugh and offered them bread. “Hugh helped me get my garden seat in place and I've finished digging the bed the boys started for me. They're such willing helpers, my grandsons.”

Once again Allan snorted. “Make the most of it, I say. Once they're a bit older there'll be more than enough work for them around the properties. You can always encourage the girls.”

“They're a little bit young yet to lift a shovel.”

Hugh ate as his parents bantered back and forth discussing the events of their day. He had almost tuned out and was startled when his father spoke directly to him.

“How're things looking over Birches' way?”

“Good.” Hugh swallowed his food as they both looked at him expectantly. “Still fairly dry but they're doing okay.”

“What about the general area? Have you had much of a look around?”

“Woolly Swamp way?” Hugh wasn't sure what his father meant.

“Yes, there's a place for sale there. I wondered how it was looking after the summer.”

Hugh frowned. Then he remembered seeing a For Sale sign along the highway not far from the Birches' home.

“You mean the Suttons' place? They've turned half of it into vineyards.” Surely his father wasn't planning on buying more land? If he was, Hugh couldn't imagine his interest in a place that was producing grapes for wine. Allan was strictly a sheep and cattle man. He was a sceptic when it came to plantations of anything but crops for feed.

“I know what they've been doing there,” Allan said. “Seems the grapes have been made into drinkable wine.”

Hugh put the last forkful of food into his mouth and Mary scooped up the plates. “I've made chocolate pudding for dessert.”

“Don't serve any for me, Mum,” Hugh said. “The savoury mince was enough.”

“It's your favourite.” Mary bustled about at the bench. “You need fattening up, love.”

“You'll have me the size of a whale before I leave.”

The noise from the dishes ceased. Mary turned to look at her husband.

“Tell him, Allan,” she said. Her eyes sparkled.

His father wore that funny look he'd had the time he'd given Hugh the ultimatum about coming home to work on the property.

“Tell me what?” Hugh said. Unease churned the food in his stomach.

“We're thinking of buying the Suttons' place,” Allan said.

Mary put bowls of pudding and ice-cream on the table and stood between her husband and her son. “For you,” she said.

Hugh looked from the excitement on his mother's face to his father's, where he recognised the look of expectation. The weight of their suggestion locked him to the chair, while inside, his body was in turmoil.

“We want you to have a part in the family business,” Mary said.

Hugh looked from one to the other again before he found his voice. “We've talked about this before. I'm happy doing what I do.”

“But that's only a job, working for someone else,” Allan said with a sweep of his hand. “This would be for yourself.”

Hugh didn't point out that he'd still be working for someone else, only this time it would be the family.

“I don't know much about growing grapes and winemaking.”

“You spent years at uni getting that fancy degree.” Allan thrummed the table with his fingers.

“I have a bachelor in agricultural science.”

“You used to work at that cellar door during your uni days,” Mary said.

“It was a part-time job.”

“You were always interested in wine.”

“I like to drink it. That's a bit different from making it.”

“Someone with your background could easily find out more,” Allan said. “Your brothers are keen to help.”

“So you've all discussed this?” Hugh could feel his chest tightening.

“We're a family business, one in, all in,” his father said and shovelled a large spoonful of dessert into his mouth.

“We want you to come home to stay, love.” Mary patted his hand. “It's not right you don't have a part to play here. You're such a clever lad. I'm sure you'd make a go of it.”

Hugh opened his mouth to tell her about the fantastic research opportunity he'd accepted in Canada but the anticipation glowing on her face made him stop.

“The auction's a couple of months away,” Allan said. “You don't have to make a decision yet.”

“Just think on it.” Mary patted his arm again. “That's all we ask.”

“With you around I might get pudding more often.” Allan's face pulled into a small grin and he took another mouthful.

“Your tummy doesn't need it,” Mary teased and she went to get her own plate. Hugh pushed his pudding and melting ice-cream around his bowl. This was all strange and unexpected, not only the offer but also his father's attempt at congeniality.

After Carol's accident, Hugh had been made an offer to join the family business. He'd turned it down and after the ruckus that had caused, he thought there would never be another opportunity. Back then Allan had been aggressive and demanding. This time was different, perhaps tempered by Mary's presence. No doubt she'd been in her husband's ear about it. And this was an entirely different proposition, but it was strange all the same.

His mother returned to the table and proceeded to tell them all about her garden exploits, punctuated by silence as she ate her food. Finally Allan cut in, saying he had to make some phone calls and despite Hugh's offers to help with the cleaning up, his mother refused to let him do anything. He hovered in the kitchen.

“Go and relax,” she said. “Watch some television.”

Hugh headed to the shower instead. Perhaps under the water he could find some solitude and have a chance to mull over this offer – not that he thought for one minute he would accept it. What he had to work out was how to tell his parents he already had plans for the future, and they didn't involve moving back to the family business.

The first mob of sheep moved restlessly in the yard as Mackenna finished mixing the drench. She lifted her head at the sound of the ute approaching. It came to a stop on the other side of the fence and Patrick jumped down from the back. Through the front window she could see her mother behind the wheel and her father in the passenger seat. He would hate that. He was allowed to drive now but evidently he'd had another restless night and was feeling a bit flat. He'd insisted on helping bring in the sheep this morning and Louise had been equally insistent that she would drive. Moving sheep was often something that stirred Mackenna's usually calm father to frustration. She suspected the mood inside the cab would be testy.

She smiled as she watched the two dogs, King and Prince, rush eagerly from side to side on the back of the ute as it moved away again. At least
they
were happy.

“How did the pup go?” she asked.

“All right, I guess,” Patrick said.

“Was he a help or a hindrance?”

“He seems to know one end of a sheep from the other – unlike me,” Patrick muttered.

Mackenna smiled. “The head's the end with the nose and the ears sticking out.”

Patrick scowled at her.

“I'm joking, Patch.” She gave him a playful tap. “Lighten up.”

“Dad said you need me here. What do you want me to do?”

“You can push them up,” Mackenna said, determined to keep cheerful. Patrick turned away from her without a response. He'd been in a touchy mood for days. She wondered if he felt under pressure to stay on at the farm. Maybe his employers were hassling for his return. Their mother was certainly keen for him to stay, but now that Mackenna was home they would manage. Perhaps she'd talk to her dad about it later.

Cam climbed out of the yard, where he'd been pushing up the penned sheep.

“Cam, you can do the marking and I'll do the drenching,” she said. “Let's get started.”

“Yes, boss.” He gave her a mock salute.

Mackenna studied him a moment. It was hard to see his face in the shadow of his cap but his smile seemed genuine enough, then he winked at her. She turned away quickly and busied herself with the drench equipment. He was an employee and she didn't want him thinking there was more to their relationship than that. They'd worked together a few times over the last couple of days and she decided Cam's knowledge was marginally better than Patrick's when it came to farm work.

She picked up the backpack and wobbled as the weight of it caught her off guard. A strong pair of hands grabbed her arms.

“Steady up there, boss.” Cam lifted the strap so it sat squarely on her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Mackenna pulled away quickly and the drench gun slipped from her hand and swung around her leg. She stumbled and the weight of the backpack full of chemical carried her forward. She shuffled her feet, hooked her toe on a rock and fell in a sprawl onto a pile of loose hay. Her knees hit the ground first, then her hands. The hay did little to soften the impact of the thud that jarred her body. She gasped.

“Are you okay?” Cam was beside her.

Mackenna stretched one arm and then the other, then gingerly rolled and sat back on her bottom.

“Nothing broken,” she said then began to giggle. Whether it was from shock or at her own stupidity she didn't know. She rubbed her knees and laughed out loud.

Cam squatted beside her.

“You're going to have to stop this, boss,” he said with a grin.

“Laughing is better than crying.”

“I meant throwing yourself at my feet. That's the second time you've done it. There are other ways of getting my attention, you know.”

He stood up and offered his hand. She ignored it and struggled to her feet. Flirting with Cam had not been on her agenda. Surely he didn't think she'd fallen on purpose?

“You sure you're okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” she said, feeling the sting in her hands as she brushed bits of straw and dirt from her clothes.

“I could do the drenching . . .”

“I'm fine,” she repeated. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she snatched up the gun, held it firmly in her hand and made her way to the yard. She kept her back to Cam so he wouldn't see the colour she knew was flooding her face.

“Send them up, Patch,” she called, hoping he hadn't witnessed that debacle.

The first sheep moved up the narrow space and she grabbed it, shot the liquid into the corner of its mouth, made sure it swallowed and let it go. It was difficult at first with Cam working right beside her. Every bump of an elbow or knock of a hand had her on high alert, but gradually she relaxed and they got into a rhythm, her awkward stumble confined to history and her mind focused on the job.

They'd drenched the rams as soon as Hugh had confirmed barber's pole worm but there'd been no sign of it in the rest of the sheep. This was just the usual pre-lambing drenching. They'd do all the sheep except the mob of Corriedale Dorset crossbreeds that had jumped the gun. They were busy dropping lambs so they'd have to be dealt with later.