Page 31 of Whispers of Sweetwater

Padding back into the kitchen, she filled her two-litre water bottle and scribbled a note for Molly.

Morning, lovely. Sherlock’s staying home to keep you company. There’s banana bread in the fridge and fruit in the veggie drawer. Be back around four. Please call me if you need anything. B. xx

She left the note on the counter and, needing to know Molly was safe and sound before she went out, she tiptoed back down the hallway, eased the guest bedroom door open a crack, then peeked in. Molly was still sleeping, curled beneath the messed-up doona with only a slice of her auburn hair visible above the pillow. Smiling softly, Brianna quietly backed into the hall and carefully shut the door.

Heading towards the front door, she paused to address Sherlock. ‘Right, buddy, you’re officially on duty now, okay? No chasing birds or hiding underneath the house. Molly needs you to be alert, and by her side at all times.’

He wagged his tail once in acknowledgment before padding over to lie by Molly’s door. Brianna stood for a heartbeat, then another, watching her best mate do his darndest to look after the people that mattered. Gee whizz, she loved him so much.

Outside, she loaded her vet bag into her trusty four-wheel drive, then climbed behind the wheel and turned the key. The Hilux coughed to life, then grunted perfectly, just like a diesel engine should. Her first stop was a calving just outside town. Then a suspected case of laminitis. Then two routine vaccinations. On the books, it was a day like any other. Except it wasn’t. Not anymore. Not until the person, or persons, behind Molly’s blackmailing were stopped. And as she went about her day, she tried to push this to the back of her mind, because the animals she was attending deserved her full attention, and before she knew it the sun had begun its slow descent across the Sweetwater horizon, and she was heading home again. She pulled up in her usual spot then cleared the front steps two at a time. Sherlock raced through the front door when she swung it open, bouncing excitedly around her as she dumped her muddy boots at the door.

‘Hey, buddy.’ She ruffled his head. ‘It’s good to see you, too.’

Inside, Molly was sitting at the dining table, looking more like herself – still pale, still quieter than usual, but upright, dressed, and sipping tea like it held all the answers in the world.

‘Hey,’ Brianna said, smiling gently.

Molly looked up and smiled as if she was trying to mirror Brianna’s expression. ‘Hey, Brianna. How was your day?’

‘Long. But good. Calves were born. Shots were given. Horses didn’t kick me in the head.’ She leant against the bench and shrugged. ‘A win all round.’

Molly managed a small laugh. ‘That’s a pretty low bar for a win, Bri.’

‘Hey, I’ll take what I can get.’ Brianna tipped her head towards her. ‘So, what about you? How did your day pan out?’

Molly let out a slow breath, her fingers curling around her mug. ‘I rang the insurance company again, got put on hold for forty minutes, only to be told the same thing as yesterday, that they’ll be in touch. Not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for.’ She shook her head, then glanced down at Sherlock, who’d settled by her feet. ‘Spent a bit of time on the verandah with this guy. He’s been keeping close.’

Brianna’s eyes softened. ‘Yeah, he takes his assignments seriously.’

Molly reached down to scratch Sherlock’s ears. ‘He’s good company. Better than I am at the moment, that’s for sure.’

‘Don’t sell yourself short.’ Brianna pushed off the bench, moving closer. ‘You showed up for yourself today, even if it didn’t feel like it.’

Molly hesitated, then a spark of something brighter lit her face. ‘Actually, I did make a couple of positive calls, to some of the local tradies, and a few of them offered to help get the café back up and running. Said they’d chip in their labour for free or at cost. Just to help me get on my feet again.’

Brianna’s chest warmed. ‘That’s bloody fantastic, Moll. This town really does look after its own.’

‘Yeah, mostly,’ Molly said, her voice softening. ‘And it means more than I can say.’

‘That’s because you’ve given a lot to them too,’ Brianna reminded her.

Molly ducked her head, looking a little overwhelmed, then took another sip of tea. ‘Maybe. But I still feel like I’m holding my breath all the time.’

‘That’s okay,’ Brianna said gently. ‘We’ll get through it. One breath at a time.’ After a moment, she added, ‘I invited Hayden over for dinner. Thought we could talk through things more, you know, see if anything jogs your memory or connects some dots.’

Molly nodded, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension. ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’

With the sun setting in apricot hues behind the trees, Brianna moved through the kitchen, measuring flour with one hand while stirring a rich tomato sauce with the other. Sherlock watched her every move from his post near the door, nose twitching each time she opened a spice jar. She’d opted for something hearty, fettuccine from scratch, just like her mum had taught her, served with a rich half-beef, half-pork ragu and a rustic garlic loaf she’d picked up from the bakery earlier that day. She didn’t cook as often as she’d like to, especially now she was only cooking for one, but it helped her to unwind. It gave her something to control, to perfect, in a world that was otherwise riddled with unknowns and half-truths at the moment.

And yet, unlike every other time she’d made this meal, her mind wasn’t on the pasta or the seasonings.

It was on Hayden.

An hour later she caught herself glancing at the clock again. She wasn’t dressing up, she wasn’t that kind of girl, but she’d changed out of her work shirt, washed the dirt and dust from her face, and pulled her hair back in a low, effortless braid. This wasn’t a date. She kept telling herself that. It was dinner. A discussion. A plan to help Molly. Still, the way her pulse kicked a little when she heard a vehicle pull into the driveway was unmistakable.

She pressed a palm to her heart and whispered to herself, ‘Calm your farm, Brianna Steele, it’s just dinner.’

When she opened the door, Hayden stood there, a bottle of red wine in hand, and that same soft expression he always wore when, she surmised, he wasn’t sure whether to smile or worry. Tonight, it was a bit of both.