Red Dust Dreaming (13 page)

“What's up with you? Someone die?”

“Everything's fine,” Caden bit out. He'd already assumed the worst. Elizabeth and Richard had slept together, declared undying love, whatever. Not that it should matter a jot to him. She only came to Kirrkalan to pick up Luke and take him back to her loveless family. She was never an option for him. Why bother if she had a dalliance with Richard? The question burned at him. A girl like her wouldn't survive here in the Outback. Too delicate and refined. Life out here was rough and tumble, earthy at best.

“Well, you'll be happy to know Lizzie is getting on great guns with the artists. Started painting herself. It's like she's been here for years instead of days.” Richard's cheerful report did little to soothe Caden's mood. Lizzie? Since when had Elizabeth been Lizzie? He fumed silently at the first piece of evidence Richard produced of their affair. It stung like hell.

“Good for her,” he tried to sound like he really meant it.

He didn't fool Richard for a minute. “Look mate, I didn't make a move on her if that's what's eating at you.”

“Didn't think you had.” Caden snapped mortified his private thoughts were out in the open.

“Sure you did. And if she hadn't been Angela's sister I probably would have had a crack but it just didn't seem right, you know?”

Caden nodded. Richard and Angela had indulged in a steamy affair, brief and spectacular. They'd managed to salvage a friendship from the ashes and Caden understood why Richard might be reluctant to get involved with her sister. Ancient history repeating itself. Caden suspected Richard may have cared more deeply for Angela than he ever let on. The fool.

“Wait until you see her work. Brilliant! She's wasting her time working as a lawyer. All she's been doing is painting. I had to remind her to eat.” Richard laughed and slapped the steering wheel. “Practically had to drag her out of Warlukurlangu in the evening.”

Caden allowed himself a smile. The bunched muscles of his shoulders relaxed with the knowledge Elizabeth and Richard hadn't been intimate or even remotely romantic. Didn't change his situation of course although he certainly rested easier. “Thelma said something about her being an artist before she was a lawyer.”

“Yeah, she told me the story. Rat bag parents but we already knew that, right?”

“Angela was always pretty clear about that fact. Seems she wasn't the only one to suffer, hey?” He hated himself for fishing. He'd never spoken to Elizabeth about her life, had no idea she had been an artist until Thelma had told him. The knowledge left him with the sense she'd bonded with everyone but him.

“Forcing Lizzie to give up her fine arts degree in favour of law is the act of control freaks,” Richard said vehemently.

So that's what had happened? She had made a break for freedom. What had gone wrong? He longed to ask Richard, only pride prevented him. Couldn't do to be seen to know less than everyone else, like she didn't trust him with her story. Maybe she didn't. The thought left him cold.

“Think Daddy Dearest has been putting the pressure on her to come home. Bring little Luke with her. As far as I know she's turned off her phone. Tired of the endless text messages and phone calls. No idea why the old folks are suddenly interested in their grandchild.” Richard shrugged.

“Never bothered them before,” said Caden. They were entering Yuendumu. Nerves pitted his stomach like he was facing his first date or something. Get a grip!

Richard turned towards Warlukurlangu Art Centre. “Hope you don't mind a detour. Promised Lizzie she could keep working until the last minute. I expect you'll be taking some wet canvas back with you.”

Caden swallowed hard and averted his face so Richard couldn't see his reaction. Anyone would mistake him for a fifteen year-old schoolboy.

They pulled up outside Warlukurlangu Art Centre. A mongrel dog announced their arrival soliciting no response from the people gathered under the veranda. As they drew closer Caden could see several men and women sitting cross-legged in front of canvas busy painting, stopping to chat from time to time or scold a dog who'd strayed too close.

At the back of the group he spotted a blonde head bent over a canvas of brilliant colour. Caden took moment to drink in the scene. The prissy uptight New Yorker sat in the middle of a bunch of aboriginal artists, on the concrete floor, being stepped on by flea bitten mutts and small children, assaulted by flies and heat painting away as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She lifted her head at the disturbance their arrival created. As Richard greeted the artists Elizabeth gazed straight to Caden, their eyes locking, an unnamed force pulsating between them. His heart hammered in his chest. Could she feel this too? She stood in one fluid movement, her grace breathtaking. Gone was the girl he'd left behind the night of the party and in her place a woman he almost didn't recognise. Her hair was tousled as if she'd just woken up, her face flushed with something… happiness? A streak of paint marked one cheek like war paint. She wore loose fitting clothes covered in paint her knees pockmarked with dirt.

“Let me pack up and I'll be right with you,” she called across the group who had stopped in favour of a chat. She gathered her brushes and paint, disappearing inside to do whatever artists do. Content to wait he exchanged greetings with a few of the artists he knew, happy to ride the fringe of the conversation.

Elizabeth reappeared carrying a small canvas. She picked the other work up off the floor and held it at arm's reach. “What do you think?” she asked Richard. “Got a bit more to do on it yet of course.”

Richard viewed the work, arms crossed and wearing a frown of consideration. “Looking good Lizzie,” he said finally. “Do you want to leave it here and come back to work on it later?”

Her eyes flicked from Richard to Caden and back again. “Um… I… can I speak with Caden for a moment?”

“Sure,” Richard shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Elizabeth walked past Caden, beckoning him to follow her around the other side of the building to a deserted area, silent except for a crow running a commentary as they walked beneath his tree. She stopped and turned to face him, a worried little furrow between her brows. “You asked me to leave as soon as possible and well…” She turned her face away, looking out across the township as if seeking inspiration, or courage. “The thing is I don't want to leave – not just yet. I want to stay for a little while longer.” She held up her hand as he went to speak. “I realise it's an imposition to have me at Kirrkalan. I know that. I just don't want to go home right away. All I've got to go back to is my little apartment and work. All this is an adventure and I don't want it to end.”

Caden blew out a breath of relief. She wanted to stay. If she stayed, Luke stayed too.

“Please,” she said wringing her hands, misinterpreting his response. He made no move to correct her. How to respond? He intended to say yes. No question about it. But how to tell her he wanted her to stay, not just because it kept Luke here too, but because Kirrkalan without her was colourless. During the few days she'd been gone restlessness had claimed him for the first time in his life. Once he'd been content for the boundaries of his world to begin and end with Kirrkalan's fence line. All that had changed with the arrival of Elizabeth Langtree.

He looked into her clear blue eyes, twin pools of earnest clarity willing him to agree. He nodded, all his fine words fled, abandoning him to his fate. She squealed in delight and, to his surprise, threw herself at him wrapping her arms about his neck, hugging him with gratitude. Caden's hands went instinctively to her waist, the warmth of her skin palpable through her shirt. The scent of her hair reminded him of a field of flowers in spring time. She pressed against the length of him, seductively inviting. He closed his eyes and drew breath, imprinting this moment on his memory before setting her carefully aside. His body had begun to betray him in the most obvious way.

“Sorry!” She flushed, embarrassed, as she found her feet.

“No problem. Luke will be delighted to see you.” Small talk. All he was good for.

“And delighted to stay on too. I know he's not keen to leave.” She put her hands on her hips and looked about. “I can see why.”

Caden laughed. “Many couldn't. I mean look at the place, it's not exactly the Gold Coast!”

“Perhaps but it's got something else. There's something magical here.” She clasped her hands to her chest in an unconscious gesture full of childlike excitement. “I can feel it in the earth, in the air. I can paint here in a way I haven't painted for years. I sound like a lunatic, right?” she asked ruefully.

“Not at all. There is a magic in the Outback, no doubt about it.”

“I can see why Angela stayed here, why she didn't come home to New York when she got sick.”

He nodded again, not sure what to say. Not sure what she was telling him. Was she saying she wanted to stay for good or simply expressing an appreciation? Hard to tell. He had to guard against projecting his own hopes on to the situation. Not only did he stand to lose Luke he stood to lose Elizabeth too.

“Right! Enough rabbiting on. I imagine you want to get back to Kirrkalan and no doubt the artists want their space back. I'm sure they've had enough of me after two days.” She gave him a dazzling smile and walked back towards the Art Centre.

He watched her go, her hips swinging hypnotically. He shook his head. She had transformed, come out of her cocoon and spread her wings. Her parents weren't going to like it. He took a moment before following her. The flight back lay ahead of them and then what? At some point she would have to go or make a decision to stay. What reason did she have to stay? Could he give her one? The crow cawed down at him, its shiny black eye displaying a disturbing intelligence.

“No one asked you,” he said. The bird cawed again as if to dispute his statement. Caden took his akubra off and ran a hand through his hair before resettling the hat on his head. “No time like the present,” he said to the crow who had nothing to offer.

Paints, paintbrushes, and other painting paraphernalia littered the table from one end to the other. Lizzie had taken to painting like the Aboriginal artists, with the canvas lying flat rather than propped on an easel. Mostly because there wasn't an easel anywhere to be found for hundreds of miles. She'd been back at Kirrkalan a week and, between time spent with Luke, she'd done little else but paint as if possessed. Since visiting Yuendumu she dreamed in colours so vivid they woke her up, sending her to the notebook she kept beside her bed where she would record the images as best she could. During the day she brought her visions to life on canvas sent by Richard who had thoughtfully provided her with a stash of paints and brushes until she could buy her own. Which posed a tricky question.

How long was she intending to stay at Kirrkalan? Life had fallen into an easy pattern. Luke attended School of the Air in the mornings. Caden saw to the everyday running of the cattle station. Thelma busied herself taking care of them all while Lizzie painted. Then in the evening they would gather for one of Thelma's delicious meals before watching a movie, or playing a game together. Lizzie retired early, rising with the dawn. It was as if she'd lived in the Outback forever.

She dipped her brush in a purple acrylic and dabbed it on the canvas trying hard to push away the problems facing her. She'd taken to ignoring her parents. Not a very good strategy considering her father also employed her. She received a string of text messages and emails every day all demanding she return home as a dutiful daughter should. Problem was she didn't feel dutiful, not anymore. Anger snapped and snarled, having lain dormant all these years.

Lizzie picked up another brush adding an orange tone to the picture. Her anger surprised her. She really thought she'd dealt with her disappointment and rage at having to give up her art for law, a subject she cared little for. Looking back now she wondered why she didn't run away like Angela. Not brave enough to face the world alone with no visible means of support. She'd chickened out. Some of the anger was reserved for herself.

“Aunty E?” Luke worked quietly on a canvas of his own, more paint on him than anywhere else. “I want to make this colour darker but I don't know how.” He continued to call her Aunty E even though everyone else had taken to calling her Lizzie. All except Caden who didn't seem to call her anything at all. She showed Luke how to deepen his colour until he got exactly the shade he wanted. Then she returned to her work.

Caden was the other issue she ignored. Always hyper-aware of him she worked hard to keep their exchanges civil and without nuance. She had to assess him with a clear eye and therefore needed to repress any romantic feelings she might have. It's not like they'd be returned any time soon. He'd been pretty clear he saw her as a sister, as Angela's sister. Still, she had to make a decision about Luke. There was no doubt in her mind Caden made a good father. He gave Luke all his attention, taught him useful things, listened to the boy's stories and helped with homework. He even read to him and occasionally she had found them on the floor playing Lego together.

Yet she hesitated. Luke's isolation and lack of mother-figure worried her a little. Back home he'd have his grandmother and grandfather – and her. He'd have friends at school. He'd never be lonely. Not that he seemed lonely now. She reached out and ruffled his hair. He rewarded her with a grin. This idyllic life could not continue. Sooner or later she'd be forced to make a decision.

She sighed and wiped her brush on a rag. The light had begun to fade, time to pack up for the day. Slowly she cleaned up leaving Luke to carry on a bit longer. He would paint in the dark if she let him. “Come on little buddy, time to close up shop for the day.”