Page 28 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Rowena’s laugh was much more robust this time, which warmed Lachlan to his core. ‘Seriously, you’ll be most welcome. Why don’t you come with me now and I can drop you back into town after? Too many roos out at the moment for your little car.’

‘Shouldn’t you at least call her first and check if she’s okay with an extra mouth?’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘I used to turn up with half the football team when I was a teenager. One extra mouth is neither here nor there.’

Her face was a mask of indecision and Lachlan wondered if it was to do with him more than Reggie.

‘There’s no strings or expectations here, I promise.’ He held up his hands like a magician demonstrating there was nothing up his sleeve. ‘Just a date with the most succulent lamb you’re ever likely to taste.’

‘Well, in that case. How can a girl say no?’

Nine

Rowena’s gaze was fixed on the scenery as Lachlan’s ute ate up the distance between town and Blairgowrie. He’d waited at the pub while she’d had a shower and changed into jeans and a fleecy-lined jumper. She hadn’t lingered too long under the spray, not wanting to give herself any time to think about the day. She’d just jumped in and out, and they’d been on the road twenty minutes later.

The late afternoon light draped gentle fingers over the landscape, softening the starkness with the same palette of pinks and golds it had that day she’d driven to Acacia Junction almost a month ago. Between the motion of the vehicle and the blur of scenery, Rowena found herself in a kind of meditative state.

Ten minutes out of town, the ute slowed and Lachlan took a left turn onto an unsealed road lousy with corrugations and pockmarked with potholes. The ute shook with the vibrations and her boobs bounced with every rut the tyres found.

‘You want to talk about it?’

Rowena started a little. He hadn’t said a word until now and she’d been grateful for that. She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the darkening forms of gum trees as they flicked by. ‘Not really. No.’

‘Okay.’

Just like that. Just, okay. She’d expected him to push, to get her to open up, and was extraordinarily glad that he hadn’t. She didn’t want to think about the details of the day.

She was no stranger to people’s grief. There was a lot of that in a NICU. But she’d never quite managed to build the kind of Teflon armour that would allow things to just slide off. She could compartmentalise it. Wall it off. Keep it under wraps to be able to function and do what needed to be done.

To be the nurse.

But she wasn’t made of stone, either, and there always came a time in the aftermath—when it was just her—where all the suppressed emotion came bubbling up and she gave herself a moment to feel all the things before letting it go.

Being with a person at the end of their life was a sacred duty, some might even say a privilege. But every death took a tiny chink of her heart. Maybe it didn’t for some medical professionals. But it did for her.

She was certainly pleased she had the next two days off.

‘Ooh.’ Rowena spotted several scraggly-looking sheep grazing under a tree. ‘I can see sheep.’

He laughed. ‘I hope so.’

‘They’re yours?’

‘Yep.’ He nodded. ‘We’re nearly there.’

True to his word, a lowset house on stumps soon appeared. It had a wide wraparound veranda and looked exactly like a lot of houses she’d seen in pictures of outback properties. Hanging baskets spilling bright flowers of pink, purple and yellow were spaced evenly and hung from the bullnose joints, providing splashes of colour.

As did the green, grassy area surrounding the house. It stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to the more subdued bushy landscape in which it sat. Big gum trees around the border provided both shade and a natural demarcation between yard and not yard.

Behind the house, she could make out a massive concrete shed with a corrugated-iron roof that consisted of a big open area full of hay plus three large bays. An old-looking tractor was parked in one of them; the other two were occupied by sturdy-looking work vehicles and several quad bikes.

Next to the shed was another structure that looked like a stable block, although she couldn’t see any horses. On one side of that building there was a large wire enclosure housing chickens.

Lachlan drove through an open gate and pulled up beneath the nearest big old shady tree.

‘Home sweet home,’ he said, turning to her with a smile as he cut the engine. Shoving his hat on his head, he opened his door. ‘Come meet Reggie.’

And, with that, he slid out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him. Absently noting he’d left the keys in the ignition, Rowena also exited the car, the barks of a dog getting closer. She rounded the bonnet in time to see the red dog from the back of his ute the morning after her arrival, running at a clip and leaping excitedly at Lachlan when it got close enough.