Right As Rain (2 page)

Now he was home for a couple of months. It was just temporary but he already knew it was a mistake to have taken on the agriculture consultant's job. He'd agreed only because he had some time up his sleeve before his new challenge and he owed it to his mother. His rare visits home were always too short for her.

He turned at the sound of a vehicle.

“What the . . .!”

He retraced his steps to the garden gate. The old farm ute, driven by his mother, grumbled to a stuttering halt with a big log attached to the tow bar. He looked from the lump of wood to the gouge marks in the dust and back to his mother.

“Hello, love,” she said brightly as she scrambled out of the driver's seat. “You're just in time to help me.”

“What are you doing, Mum?”

“I'm working on the side garden,” she said. “This log is going to be a seat.”

The side garden was a misleading name for the wild expanse of trees and weeds that his mother had tried to tame. Despite several attempts over the years, she'd never managed to change the garden to the vision she imagined. She was always so busy helping around the property, raising children and now grandchildren. It had become a standard family joke that Mum would get a bee in her bonnet from time to time and try to cultivate the jungle her husband had named Mary's Folly. Of course none of them ever offered to help her, and she would run out of steam. A few months or a year would pass before she'd tackle it again.

They stood either side of the log and she reached across and patted his cheek. “It's so good to have you home, love. Now that you're here a bit longer, you can settle in for a while. If you find a nice local girl, you might like to stay.” She winked at him from under her broad hat.

“Don't go down that path, Mum. I've already told you this is just a temporary visit.”

“Temporary can be made permanent.”

“Mum . . .”

“Help me get this off.” She cut him short to deflect what she didn't want to hear and began grappling with the huge log.

Hugh reached across and helped her undo the rope.

“Hell!” he said as the weight of the wood wrenched free from their hands and hit the ground with a thud, forcing them both to jump clear. “How did you get this hooked up by yourself?”

“It was sticking up at one end,” his mother said as she inspected her find. “It fell in the strong wind we had a few weeks back. I just lassoed it with the rope and dragged it with the ute.”

“Where do you think you're going to put it?”

“I told you, in the side garden.” She put her hands to her broad hips and glared at him. She wasn't a very tall woman and at that moment she resembled some kind of mythical woodland creature in her wide hat and a dress that hugged every roll, down to her feet in thick socks and a pair of boots she'd have taken from the assortment at the back door. Hugh didn't dare smile. Instead, he turned and began to walk. He knew there was no point arguing with her, just as he knew she would use every possible chance over the next couple of months to entice him to stay.

“Show me where you want it,” he said over his shoulder as he led the way around the side of the house.

“Oh, look at that view,” the Australian voice gushed. “Stop darling, take a picture.”

Adam felt rather than saw the couple beside him taking their holiday snaps. He knew what they were looking at and he'd purposefully chosen a seat with his back to it.

At the end of the street behind him, the lake stretched out to be met by the greens, browns and greys of the rugged mountains rising out of it. He'd been to Queenstown several times but he'd never really taken a lot of notice of the views. Most of his trips had been for work and to try all the activities on offer. This last week had been different. Mackenna had made it different. They'd wandered the streets hand in hand, eaten at restaurants, had impromptu picnics, enjoyed various tourist activities and yesterday they had planned to skydive together. Instead, he'd spent the afternoon looking for her. Once darkness descended he'd been forced to accept that she was gone.

He put his head in his hands.

“Hey, Ads.” A hand slapped him on the back and he sat up. He watched as Jeff slipped into the chair opposite him.

“Has something happened with your grandfather?” Jeff asked.

“Still holding his own.”

“I thought that long face might have meant bad news. Have you ordered? I haven't got long.” Jeff glanced around. “Where is she?”

Adam picked up the menu. He'd been dreading this moment. He'd wanted to text Jeff and cancel but his need for a friend had stopped him. “I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Jeff placed his big hand over the list of lunchtime snacks.

Adam forced his eyes to meet his best mate's gaze. “She's gone.”

“Gone? As in off to the shops or as in disappeared?” Jeff chuckled.

“Disappeared.” Once again the pain of her loss stabbed at him. He watched the smile fade from Jeff's face.

“Have you called the police?”

“She left on purpose,” Adam said quickly, before Jeff took things into his own hands. “When I got back to the motel yesterday the woman at reception said she'd checked out.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don't know.” He rubbed at his chest. “She took a taxi but the woman didn't know where to. She's just . . . disappeared.”

Adam studied the menu through watery eyes. Damn, Jeff would think him a fool. Adam was shocked himself. He'd never thought this emotion possible over a woman, but Mackenna wasn't like any woman he'd ever known. He loved her.

“Did you try ringing her?”

Adam shook his head. “Her phone doesn't work and . . . well, I didn't get her number. We were always together. We didn't need . . .” He sucked in a breath and stared at the menu but his eyes weren't reading it.

“Mate, I'm sorry.” Jeff reached across the table and gripped his shoulder. “I know you really liked her but maybe you read it wrong.”

Adam shook his head. “I couldn't have.”

“Sometimes women . . . well, maybe she didn't feel the same way. Aussie girl on holiday meets good-looking New Zealand bloke.” Jeff dropped his hand. His voice trailed away leaving the rest unsaid.

Adam frowned. Was Mackenna that kind of girl? He hadn't thought so. They were meant for each other, he'd known that within the first few hours they'd spent together. She'd felt it too. He'd seen it in her vibrant green eyes.

“Well, on the bright side,” Jeff said, “if you're here without a woman you can spend more time with me.”

Adam looked into Jeff's big round grinning face. They'd been best friends since they started as apprentices in Auckland. Both chefs, Jeff now had his own restaurant here in Queenstown while Adam had always worked for other people, learning and moving on. He had no desire to own his own place.

“Slave labour you mean?” It came out sharper than Adam had intended but if he hadn't responded to Jeff's desperate call yesterday morning, he might still be with Mackenna.

“I didn't plan a flat battery and my sous chef to be sick.” Jeff sat back in his chair. He spoke softly. “Giving me a ride and covering a shift was good of you. I do appreciate your help you know, Ads.”

Adam instantly regretted his words. “I know, mate. It's not your fault. I should have woken her up, told her what I was doing . . .” They lapsed into silence.

The lunchtime crowd ebbed and flowed around them. A waitress appeared, pen and paper in hand. Adam ordered a bowl of wedges. It was at the top of the menu. Jeff ordered them both a beer.

“So will you hang around a bit longer?” he asked. “You're between jobs and I really could do with the help.”

Adam glanced at his mate.

“I'd pay you,” Jeff added.

“I don't know what I'm going to do. There was a job I was going to apply for in Wellington but now ... I don't know. Call me an idiot but I hadn't thought past being with Mackenna.”

“Idiot,” Jeff said and gave him a pretend slap to the side of his head. “Was she flying back to Australia from here?”

“No, Christchurch.”

A sudden thought hit Adam. He jumped up then steadied the table as beer slopped from his glass.

“What are you doing?”Jeff grabbed his own glass.

“Her flight home is still a week away.” Adam reached under the table for his bike helmet. He didn't know her number but he knew the airline and the time of her flight.

“What are you going to do?” Jeff was standing now; a good head taller than Adam, he frowned down at him.

“I'm going to Christchurch.”

“What about lunch?”

“Sorry, mate.”

Adam hurried up the street weaving in and out of the crowd. Suddenly he could see the leafy green trees, hear the birds and smell the food wafting from the eateries.

“Please wait for me, Mackenna,” he murmured.

The sun reflected back from the sign announcing Woolly Swamp Farm. Even wearing sunglasses Mackenna had to squint her eyes against the brightness. The sky was cloudless, which was unusual for April.

She braked the car to a stop at the entrance to the driveway and gave herself a moment. Ahead of her the track wound up the slight rise of a hill to the house nestled amongst the gums and assorted sheds scattered across the yard. She let out a sigh. Six weeks ago she'd been anxious to escape but now she was glad to be home again. Surely all travellers felt that way but they didn't necessarily cut their trips short by several days. It didn't bother Mackenna, she was more than happy to be here – in fact she was relieved. Her last few days in New Zealand had been full of turmoil. She thought briefly of her hurried departure. Did that mean Woolly Swamp was home or another escape? She buried that thought and cast her eyes left.

Rising up amongst the recently planted tea-trees, the original stone homestead faced back towards the main road. Signs of restoration were all around the old house and fresh timber beams crisscrossed its gaping top. The iron roof should have been on by now. A small ripple of excitement coursed through her; this building factored large in her plans for Woolly Swamp. Now that she was home she wanted to forge ahead.

She looked right. A mob of sheep grazed in the distance with a couple of lambs amongst them. That was weird. It was too early for lambs. Closer, she watched a crow cruise to the ground and then hop to a lump in the paddock. It was too far away for her to see what had attracted its attention.

She edged her car through the gate and immediately noticed the newspapers lying in the dry grass of the verge, where the bus driver would have tossed them. She frowned. That was odd as well. She pushed open the car door and reached out to retrieve them. Her mother walked to the gate every day to pick up the paper; called it her morning constitutional.

Mackenna glanced back across the paddock. Two crows were busy picking now. She lifted her hand against the midday sun and peered at them. The lump looked like the body of a lamb. She tossed the papers onto the seat beside her and sped down the track. Instead of continuing to the house she turned right and followed the fence to the gate, marking the entrance to the paddock with the sheep.

Judging by the low level of pasture the mob of Corriedale Dorset ewes must have been in here a while. Mackenna cast her eyes about and frowned. There was no sign of top-up feeds either. She drove across the paddock. Several sheep lifted their heads to watch as she advanced and the crows took to the air. The lamb was small, only a few days old. The scavenging birds had already started on its eyes but otherwise it looked perfect. She rolled it over. There was blood on its nose and a hole in its side.

“A bloody fox.”

Mackenna gritted her teeth at the waste and scooped up the pathetic animal. She slipped it into an old shopping bag and dumped it in the boot of her car, beside her case. Then she scanned the paddock for Alfie the alpaca, but he was nowhere to be seen. Alfie was always with lambing ewes, an ever-vigilant protector against foxes. Something was definitely not right. These sheep were low on food and normally her father would have been out at first light to check a paddock of lambing ewes. He wouldn't have missed the dead lamb.

She scrutinised the house yard as she pulled up beside the back gate. The garage door was open and there was no car inside it. Nor was there any sign of the two farm dogs that usually greeted any approaching vehicle. As soon as she stepped out of the car she heard them. The kennels were under the stand of gums behind the garage. Mackenna ignored their barking and made her way inside.

Her grandparents had built the house and she stepped into it like she would a pair of comfy boots. Once more she sighed. There really was no place like home – unless home was turned on its head. She stood in the doorway to her mother's kitchen and surveyed the mess. There were dirty dishes on the benches, newspapers and unopened mail scattered across the table amongst empty beer cans and a pizza box, and clothes draped on the backs of chairs. She was beginning to worry. There had been many busy times over the years and sometimes emergencies but her mother somehow managed to maintain a tidy house, even when she was sick.

Mackenna spun at the sound of boots on the verandah. The bloke opening the screen door paused and pulled back his shoulders, drawing him to a height that forced her to look up to meet his deep brown eyes. Wavy black hair escaped from under his cap. By anyone's standards he was a good-looking guy.

“Who are you?” she stammered.

“More to the point, who are you?” He stepped into the house.

“Mackenna Birch.”

“The prodigal daughter.” His broad face swept into a seductive smile. “You've returned.”

Mackenna didn't like the way he looked her up and down. She flicked her eyes down at his huge boots. “My mother doesn't allow boots in the house.”