Red Dust Dreaming (3 page)

“What the hell is the Big Smoke?” She snapped while rubbing the bump on her head.

“Big city,” he said simply, inviting no further conversation.

She let the silence stretch a beat or two while she simmered her annoyance up to a boiling anger. “Where's Luke? I thought he'd be here to meet me.” He didn't answer her immediately and she had to bite her tongue to prevent prodding him for a reply.

“He's got school in the mornings. You'll meet him soon enough.” Caden's voice held a note of steel difficult to miss.

“School? Out here?” She gestured to the open plain filled with grasses and low scruffy trees.

“School of the Air.”

She waited for him to say more but when nothing further was forthcoming she said, “Enlighten me,” her tone icy. He looked at her then, properly, taking his eyes off the road and giving her a good long stare. She held his gaze self-conscious of the heat slowly travelling up her body as she looked into those toffee coloured eyes. He turned away, focusing on the road.

“School conducted by internet for kids who live on remote properties. They do their lessons with teachers located in Alice Springs and it's a chance to get to know each other a little bit. Before internet they did their lessons over the radio hence the name School of the Air.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth nodded, satisfied. Somehow she felt as if she'd scored a point. She returned to looking out the window at the passing countryside. This was nothing like the tourism pictures of Australia she'd seen online. Had Angela truly been happy in this place? Red dirt roads, School of the Air and sticky red dust — what else could possibly lie in wait for her in this strange country?

The homestead sat squarely in the middle of a manicured garden surrounded by the encroaching desert wilderness. A wide veranda wrapped around the house deeply shaded by the tin roof overhang. In the slanting morning light the house looked like something out of a movie. Elizabeth shifted in her seat with nervousness. In moments she would meet her nephew for the first time. What had Angela told him about her, if anything at all? What if he didn't like her? Doubts swirled about her like the red dust which rose around the Ute as it came to a stop.

Beside her Caden opened the door and slid out of the car. For a moment warm air blasted into the air conditioned cab before the slamming of the door returned the controlled environment. She made no move to get out of the Ute. Once she did there was no going back and Elizabeth wasn't sure she was ready for what came next. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, spinning the simple gold ring on her right hand, the ring her sister had given her for her eighteenth birthday. She hadn't worn it for years and now it was one of the few tenuous links she had to a past long gone.

The front door of the homestead opened and an older woman stepped out on to the veranda, her skin was browned by years in the sun and her hair tinged with grey. She wiped her hands on a towel as she called something to Caden. His reply was muffled. Elizabeth sat and watched the scene with detachment. She couldn't delay much longer yet somehow her fingers refused to open the door, her legs reluctant to set foot on Kirrkalan soil.

Caden stood with his hands on his hips watching the American woman, frustration bubbling through his veins. What on earth was she doing? Did she expect he'd unload her luggage, carry it into the house then return for her? She just sat there in the ute staring at the house as if she'd never seen one before. Maybe the place wasn't fancy enough for her. Angela always said her parents were loaded society types who looked down their noses at those they deemed less privileged.

He reached into the tray of the Ute and wrenched another piece of luggage out, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground. If Miss Elizabeth Langtree thought she was going to be waited on hand and foot she'd better have another think! He heard the screen door slam behind him. Thelma's voice wafted across the yard.

“Did you get her?”

“Yep,” he said, not turning around as he unloaded a small case, depositing it with the rest of the growing pile.

“So is she getting out of the car or planning to stay there for the entire time?” “Dunno. Why don't you ask her?” he muttered.

“Caden Carlyle, where are your manners?” He knew that tone. Thelma expected him to be a gracious host regardless of the circumstances, or the guest. Right now the last thing he felt like doing was extending Kirrkalan hospitality to a woman determined to tear his life apart.

Sighing heavily he wiped his hands on his jeans and walked deliberately to the front of the Ute. Elizabeth sat huddled on the passenger seat. She wasn't very tall and somehow she'd managed to make herself look even smaller. Okay so this wasn't swanky New York that she was used to but it wasn't exactly a rat-infested corrugated shack either. The sooner they got this visit over and done with the sooner she could go home and he could get on with the business of rebuilding his life.

He waited a heartbeat before wrenching the door opened. She jumped, turning a pale face towards him.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, at least while Thelma was in earshot. “My housekeeper wishes to know if you'd like to come inside for tea.”

She blinked at him as if he'd spoken Swahili. “Tea?”

“Yes, tea. I'm sure coffee will be available if you'd prefer.” He held out his hand. She flinched slightly as if expecting him to manhandle her. “For goodness sake!” His anger exploded. “No one is going to hurt you. Please get out of the car and into the house before we all get another year older.”

His words had the desired effect. She shot out of the car and up the steps of the homestead in a flash, clutching her handbag to her chest. He shook his head and slammed the car door shut. Bloody city women! Next she'd be worried about spiders in her bed or being attacked by Drop Bears. Caden returned to the task of unloading the car. He'd carry the luggage up the steps and Miss Langtree could take it to her room herself.

Elizabeth worried the housekeeper might notice the fact she was shaking. Caden Carlyle had frightened her to death. The way he'd stood there, crackling with obvious frustration, primitive male energy all directed at her. She knew she'd offended him when she'd refused to take his hand. The very thought of touching him sent off alarm bells all throughout her body. The way he'd growled at her told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of her — not much at all. Clearly Angela's stories about her hadn't been as flattering as she'd hoped.

“Welcome to Kirrkalan. I'm Thelma.” The woman before her had kind eyes and a genuine smile. Gratitude flooded her for the first friendly face she'd seen since leaving Darwin. From the time she'd landed in Alice Springs everyone had treated her as if she was an idiot. It was the luggage. She'd brought too much luggage, she knew that now.

“Hello, I'm Elizabeth.” She held out her hand, still clutching her bag to her chest.

Thelma stepped forward and enveloped her in a motherly hug, the kind she never got from her own mother. Tears threatened for a moment, hovering on her lashes ready to fall. Thelma smelt of linen which had been dried in the fresh air and sunshine. She swallowed hard and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. No way was she going to cry in front of Caden. She would not give the man the satisfaction!

As Thelma released her the screen door flew open and a small body burst forth, flinging itself down the steps at top speed. Elizabeth turned to watch as a little boy flung his arms around Caden's waist nearly toppling them both.

“Hey, little man!” Caden greeted the child with affection, his smile lighting up his face chasing away the grim lines he reserved for her. Ruffling the boy's hair he bent and whispered something. The child turned and regarded Elizabeth with solemn eyes. Her breath snagged in her throat as she looked down into Angela's eyes. Luke was the spitting image of her sister. Caden gave him a gentle push and Luke walked slowly towards her. Elizabeth's heart fluttered in her chest and she placed a hand there in a calming gesture. Coming face to face with Luke unleashed a maelstrom of emotion and she dare not utter a single word for fear of collapsing under the weight of it. She watched as Luke climbed the steps to stand before her.

“Hello,” he said with all the seriousness a five year-old boy could muster. “My name is Luke Langtree.” Blonde hair flopped over his forehead shadowing azure-blue eyes which searched her face inquiringly. One small hand was outstretched in formal greeting. Someone had taught him manners and she doubted that person was Caden Carlyle.

She took Luke's hand in hers, surprised at how strong his grip was despite his childish fragility. “I'm very pleased to meet you,” she said around the lump in her throat. “I'm your Aunt Elizabeth.”

“I know.” He broke their contact. “You're Mummy's sister. I can tell because you look kinda like her.”

Elizabeth's reply caught in her throat and those damn tears threated once more. She blinked rapidly hoping Luke hadn't noticed. Get a grip, she admonished herself. “So do you” she said, the wobble in her voice more than obvious.

Luke shrugged. “I'm hungry,” he said, turning to Thelma.

“Just as well I baked some scones this morning then.” Thelma opened the screen door. “In you go and don't forget to wash your hands.” Luke gave her an enormous grin before racing inside the house. Elizabeth watched him disappear into the shadows. The first introduction over and done with leaving her more displaced than ever. What had she expected? She didn't know; but not this strange hollowness as if she was no more than a husk of a woman.

“Come inside you must be exhausted.” Thelma held the door open, offering her a warm smile.

Elizabeth bobbed her head in acknowledgement and stepped through the door into the cool interior of the house. Her eyes took a moment to adjust from the glare outside and when they did she was surprised at the charming old fashioned décor of the house. The hallway stretched through the middle of the place like a main artery off which many rooms branched. The tongue-and-groove walls were lined with photos and portraits, some hand tinted and more than one in faded sepia tones. Each one told a story, crying out for her to stop and listen. She followed Thelma slowly, her eyes skipping from frame to frame. Groups of people stood together, laughing or smiling, often with their arms around each other. Family. The kind of family she had always wished for, the kind who liked each other. People who stuck together through thick and thin. She silently promised to come back later and spend time with each and every one of them.

Thelma led her into a bright airy kitchen at the back of the house. A large scarred table sat squarely in the middle of the room. Battered, well-loved pots and pans hung from hooks in the walls speaking of a multitude of meals shared. Yet the stove and the oven were both state-of-the art.

“Sit, please.” Thelma waved Elizabeth towards a chair as she began preparations. Luke already sat at the table, legs swinging. She took her place opposite him relishing the opportunity to study him more closely. He had the Langtree trademark blonde locks and bluer-than-blue eyes. There was much which spoke of his father whom Elizabeth had never met.

“Can I have strawberry jam with mine and cream and a glass of milk too?”

“Please!” A deep male voice intoned announcing Caden's arrival. Elizabeth stiffened instinctively.

“Please,” Luke repeated dutifully.

“Good boy.” Caden threw his hat across the room snagging it on a hat rack already groaning under the weight of various items. He pulled out a chair, letting it scrape across the floor. The sound caused Elizabeth to wince. Her mother would be halfway through a lecture by now on carelessness yet Thelma said nothing. She supposed the housekeeper didn't care. It wasn't her floor getting marked after all.

Thelma laid a plate piled high with fresh home baked scones on the table. The incredible smell made her mouth water and reminding her just how hungry she was. Elizabeth took the one offered; plied it open with her fingers and dabbed a bit of butter inside just to watch it melt.

Across the table Luke had already laden his scone with jam and a generous serve of whipped cream. His first bite left him with a cream moustache which didn't bother him in the least, his full intent on devouring his prize. Elizabeth watched him with wonder. How did Angela manage to produce such a perfect little boy? And why had she never shared him with her family? Had Angela really resented them that much? Her heart constricted at the thought of all the years lost to them. Luke would have been a gorgeous baby.

“So how long are you intending to stay Miss Langtree?”

Elizabeth was startled out of her personal reverie. “Excuse me?”

“Staying. How long?” Caden regarded her with his caramel eyes, a hawkish look upon his face.

A blush stole its way along her skin at the abruptness of his words. He didn't like her and he didn't even know her. “I don't know. As long as it takes I guess,” she answered awkwardly.

“As long as what takes?” Luke asked.

“Never you mind,” said Thelma as she flicked Caden's shoulder with her tea towel. “Miss Langtree is a guest in this house and will stay as long as she likes.”

Elizabeth smiled with relief and gratitude. “Please call me Elizabeth.”

“Shall I show you to your room, Elizabeth? I'm sure you must want to unpack and settle in after your long journey.” Thelma returned her smile.

“Sure, that would be great.” She rose leaving half her scone untouched aware of both Caden's and Luke's eyes upon her.

“Unpack? Take until tomorrow with that lot.” She heard Caden mutter as she followed Thelma from the room.

Her room was simple, a sprawling bed with an iron bedhead taking pride of place. Her luggage was lined up against the wall higgledy piggledy which was more than she'd expected. Caden Carlyle had made his feelings about her perfectly clear especially on the subject of her luggage.