Rain on a Tin Roof Read online

  A memory came to her, of her uncle Tom, telling her to put on one of his work jackets hanging by the back door. They were warm and scratchy and smelled like dust and sunshine. But she’d kept walking to the stables and ignored him. That’s right, it was coming back to her now. She’d taken one of her uncle’s horses, Nomad, out for a ride. It was only going to be a quick ride. Half an hour at the most, she’d yelled back at him. Her own jumper was warm enough, it was a snug—and very expensive—lambswool turtleneck. And it hadn’t been that cold yesterday morning. Silly. She’d been so silly. But she thought she knew better. Why did she never listen?

  As she sat there, the cold air engulfed her bare skin and she started to shiver.

  ‘Lie down,’ he commanded. He rolled the jacket up and placed it at one end to form a makeshift pillow. She lay down on the raspy woollen blankets and he climbed in beside her, shuffling over until his long legs lay close to hers, pulling her into his chest as if she were a rag doll, then layering more and more blankets over the top of them. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably now.

  ‘Don’t worry, the shivering is a good sign. It means you’re warming up.’

  ‘Oh … re … really?’ She could hardly speak through her chattering teeth.

  ‘I’m actually not sure,’ he replied with a gruff laugh. ‘But it sounded good, huh?’

  It was the first time she’d heard him laugh. It was a nice sound. It reverberated through his chest and into her bones.

  ‘Now let’s get you warm.’ He tugged her harder in against his chest and wrapped his long, lean legs around her. It felt so good. Heat radiated off his body like he was her own personal hot water bottle, and she found herself snuggling in as close as she could get.

  It should’ve been awkward, entangled beneath the blankets with a strange man in a tiny hut in the middle of absolutely nowhere. But it didn’t. In fact, it almost felt … good.

  DUSTY

  The only sound inside the hut was the occasional crackle from the fire. Outside the wind howled like a savage beast. The storm was finally here, and it was smashing into the mountain-side with a fierce vengeance. John had been right when he said the SES team wouldn’t make it up here. No living thing should be out on a night like tonight. Thank God he’d found her when he did.

  Dusty still wasn’t sure what it was that’d brought him up the mountain. All their information said Lana should never have got this far on her little horse. The SES had been searching the lower ridges of the mountain, over on the other side. They’d never have made it around to this zone in time. But something had called him out here. Something … He let the thought drop. It’d do no good to start considering all that paranormal shit. He didn’t believe in it, anyway.

  The girl’s shivering seemed to be subsiding.

  ‘I … is your h … horse going to be o … okay,’ she asked suddenly, her voice breaking through the silence.

  ‘Scout will be fine. There’s a small wood shed out the back. I cleaned it up a little and put him in there. At least he’ll be dry and out of the worst of the weather.’

  ‘Oh, that’s g … good.’ The relief in her voice was palpable. It was sweet she was worried about his horse. Considering she was the one who’d nearly frozen to death.

  “Oh God. Nomad. What about N … Nomad? Do you know what happened t … to my horse?’ She couldn’t get the words out quick enough.

  ‘He’s fine. He arrived back at your uncle’s farm last night. He wasn’t stupid enough to spend the night out in the freezing cold.’ Dusty laughed. ‘You must’ve fallen off him somehow. Do you remember?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She sounded deep in thought, as if trying to dredge up some kind of memory.

  ‘It’s okay if you don’t. Hypothermia will do that to you.’

  He wanted to let her know it was fine, it’d come back eventually, and was about to say so when she started to speak in a low voice. ‘I remember I went the opposite way t … to what I told Tom.’ He grunted in reply. It was stupid thing to do, but he was gentlemanly enough not to say it out loud. ‘I was only going to ride out to the c … clump of tall scribbly gums on the ridge above the farm. To get a few ideas for my next p … painting. Those trees have amazing patterns on their bark. But t … then I had this sudden urge to turn right instead, to go up to this little clearing I’d been to once with Tom. It’s such a beautiful view from up there.’ She stopped talking, perhaps thinking it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

  ‘But you got lost,’ he volunteered into the sudden silence.

  ‘Yeah, kind of.’ She shrugged her shoulder into his chest. ‘I followed a trail, but I think it took us too far up the mountain.’

  ‘And then what?’ He kept voice probing but gentle.

  ‘I think I must’ve started to feel a little nervous, because Nomad got jumpy all of a sudden.’

  ‘That can happen. They’re intelligent creatures. They understand more than you think, you can transmit your fear into the horse if you’re not careful.’

  ‘Yeah well, a big roo suddenly appeared out of the undergrowth and took off at the sight of us. Because Nomad was already kind of spooked he shied and then reared.’

  ‘And you fell off?’

  ‘I didn’t hurt myself though. I just kind of landed on my bum on a pile of soft tussocks and got the wind knocked out of me. But Nomad took off like he’d seen a ghost.’

  ‘He probably thought he had,’ laughed Dusty. ‘Poor horse, you can’t really blame him.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t. It was my fault.’

  ‘I’m not sure you should take all the blame, either.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Shit happens. Sometimes it just isn’t your day. You have to take the good with the bad.’

  He hoped his philosophical outlook on life might sooth her guilty conscience. Everything had turned out okay in the end. And sometimes, shit did happen and there wasn’t a lot you could do about it.

  The silence settled in around them once more. It should’ve been awkward, this silence between two strangers. Two strangers who were right at this moment, closer than most people ever got. Intimate. That’s how it felt, with both of them curled around each other. Intimate. But not awkward. Strange really.

  He’d been right, she was tiny. Especially compared to his large frame. Her thin arms and slim torso felt almost fragile in his embrace. It was like hugging a block of ice, however. A human shaped block of ice. But that ice was slowly thawing around the edges. Her hands and feet were still chilled, but he could feel the heat returning to her chest, see the colour slowly returning to her face. A face that lay mere inches away from his own. Dwarfed by the large grey beanie he’d shoved on her head, it made her look almost elfin.

  The most startling thing he noticed about her, as she nestled into the crook of his arm, was the nose ring. One of those rings that pierced the middle of the septum, hung down like a mini bull-ring. He’d always thought of those women who wore nose rings as alternatives, unconventional, dropouts, but she didn’t strike him as any of those things. On Lana it made her seem even more fragile … but also free-spirited somehow.

  She was young, too. Her face fresh and unlined. Unlike his own, which had seen years of sun and wind.

  ‘How old are you?’ The question popped out before he could censure it.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, it was rude,’ he said with a grimace. He was really rusty at this kind of thing. He hadn’t had much practice talking to a woman in over four years. Not since his mum was diagnosed with cancer. Since he’d become her full-time carer.

  ‘Oh. I’m twenty-three. Why? How old are you?’

  Shit, now he owed her an answer.

  ‘I’m twenty-nine.’ Her shivering had almost completely stopped now. That was a good thing. He’d get up and make them both a hot cup of tea soon. Warm fluids were supposed to help hypothermia patients. Thankfully this hut had recently been re-stocked with provisions for winter. The local community, along with National Park
s and Wildlife had done a good job restoring these old huts scattered throughout the Snowy Mountains. They were kept stocked with the basics for just this kind of emergency. Lost hikers or farmers caught out by a fast-moving storm.

  ‘Not that much older than me,’ she said quietly. ‘What do you do? Are you a farmer?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ She wouldn’t be able to see his sardonic grin, because his chin was resting on the top of her beanie-clad head, but she caught his tone.

  ‘It was the hat. The hat is always a dead give-away,’ she jibed. ‘I know a little bit about the country. I come up and visit my aunt and uncle, Joyce and Tom Fanning, nearly every month. To get away from the city for a few days. Do you know them?’

  ‘Yep, they’re down the road a bit from me. I know Tom from the Volunteer Rural Fire Service. Nice bloke. Can’t say I know your aunt that well. Talked to her a few times at the CWA fetes and other functions around town. She brought food over a couple of times when my mum was sick. Just before she died.’ Damn, why had he said that? Now she was going to ask questions about his mum. He didn’t like questions. They opened old wounds. People were always trying to get him to talk about things he’d rather forget. Unconsciously his shoulders tightened and his lips thinned into a severe line. Waiting for the inevitable.

  ‘Ahh.’ When she didn’t say anything more, a pang of contrition twisted through him. She seemed to understand he wouldn’t welcome her prying. Perhaps he’d misjudged her. He did that a lot with this girl. Or perhaps it was just she was good at surprising him.

  The wind dropped a little in ferocity outside and they both lay listening to the branches of the nearby tree bang indignantly on the corrugated iron roof above.

  ‘This storm is bad, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a pretty bad one. We always get at least one or two like this each year. This one’s a little early in the season, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not still outside.’

  ‘Me too,’ he agreed. They left the rest unsaid. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that he’d found her in time. A sound like galloping horses suddenly erupted overhead, as sheets of rain began to lash the tiny hut.

  ‘Wow, that’s some incredible rain.’ He almost didn’t catch her comment over the thundering downpour. They lay together and listened to the rain pound onto the tin roof, as if Mother Nature was intent on drowning them both. After a few minutes the rain ran out of fury and the pounding diminished, turned into a more regular, consistent patter on the iron sheeting. Familiar and rhythmic. It was a peaceful sound. It reminded him of days spent inside, safe and cocooned and soothed as nature replenished the earth.

  ‘There’s nothing like the sound of rain on a tin roof, is there?’ Lana said into his chest. He grunted in consternation. Another unusual sentiment, coming from a city-girl.

  ‘Nope, it’s the best sound in the world,’ he agreed. And it was. Dusty always stopped to listen to the rain on the roof wherever he was, whatever he was doing. It evoked emotions of happier times, reminded him how lucky he was to be living in the country, not caged and cramped by a job in the city.

  ‘Especially when we’re warm and dry inside,’ she added. ‘Well, definitely dry. And getting warmer by the minute.’ She wriggled against him, trying to get closer, if that were possible.

  Hah, she had a sense of humour as well. It made him curious about her.

  ‘Your turn now. You know I’m a farmer. What do you do for a living?’ Her back stiffened beneath his hands ever so slightly.

  ‘I’m a project manager.’ From the tone of her voice, it sounded like he’d hit a nerve. Defensive about her job, perhaps? Interesting.

  ‘What exactly does that mean. And don’t say you manage projects.’ He felt her smile beneath his chin, some of the wariness leaving her.

  ‘You took the words right out of my mouth. I do manage projects,’ she laughed. ‘But if you want to know the details, I work for an architectural firm.’

  ‘Wow, don’t take this the wrong way, but aren’t you young to be taking on that kind of responsibility?’

  ‘I don’t know, am I? My dad owns the company. He was the one who suggested I do the degree at uni. He promised me a job once I finished. I only graduated six months ago. But it’s okay. I’m learning the ropes. Learning how to deal with client expectations, keep the engineers and contractors happy. The site visits are the most interesting part of the job so far. At least they get me out of the office.’

  ‘Ahh.’ He knew from experience that family expectations could weigh heavily on a person’s shoulders. From the underlying tone she was trying desperately to keep out of her voice, it was clear this wasn’t her first choice. And it was also clear there was friction between her and her father.

  ‘Are you good at what you do?’

  ‘Not if you listen to my dad,’ she snorted.

  ‘Okay, let me rephrase that. Do you like what you do?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Her back stiffened again. ‘Do you like what you do?’ she retorted. Uh oh, time to back off this conversation. It wasn’t going at all where he intended.

  ‘Sure. I love living on the farm. It’s a hard slog sometimes, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.’ It was the truth. He couldn’t imagine himself locked away at some desk job in the city. Not any more, anyway. When he’d been young and naive, he’d tried to live in the city. Moved to Sydney to start a degree in engineering. But then the accident happened. The tractor had slipped down a boggy hillside after a storm and rolled. His dad was killed instantly, or at least that’s what the paramedics told him afterwards. Dusty hadn’t even thought twice about it. His mum couldn’t cope alone on the farm. So he moved back to the mountains.

  And there had been a couple of good years, with him and his mum working side by side. She’d started a side-business, breeding alpacas, which’d started to bring in almost as much money as the sheep. But then she’d got sick. She’d died almost two years ago to the day.

  And now he was running the farm on his own. Alone. The word lonely never really entered his mind. He was always so busy, he never had time to think about his circumstances. Just got on with what needed to be done. Loneliness was for the old or the weak.

  ‘Have you got any brothers or sisters?’ Perhaps if he changed the topic slightly, she might not get quite so defensive.

  ‘Yes, a younger sister, Gail. She’s still at uni. Studying to be a geologist of all things.’ It worked. The offended tone disappeared. Replaced by something akin to tenderness. Whatever misgivings she had about her father, they obviously didn’t extend to her sister.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I did have a younger brother, but he died when he was a year old. Pneumonia I think. I was only three at the time. My parents never had any more kids after that.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to be, I don’t really remember him.’ The rain still pattered away on the tin roof, filling the hut with the satisfying sound. A log collapsed in a flare of sparks on the fire. He needed to get up and put some more wood on it. Soon. He’d do it soon. Just a few more minutes beneath the blankets with Lana. To make sure she was completely warm. Out of danger. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was nice, lying here. Talking. Finding out about each other. Feeling her body next to his.

  ‘I also like to paint. I have a studio here at my aunt and uncle’s place. When I’m not working, I paint.’

  Ahh, now the truth was coming out. Lana had just revealed her true passion. He wanted to ask what her dad thought about her painting, but there was no need. He probably already knew the answer.

  ‘Tom lets me use a corner of his work shed to keep all my gear in, so I can paint whenever I come to stay. It’s so beautiful up here, so inspiring.’ Her voice took on a dreamy edge and he imagined her eyes might have taken on a faraway gleam.

  ‘I’d love to see them someday. If you’ll let me.’

  ‘Oh, really? I don’t let many people see my paintings
. But you can come over one day if you like.’ For the first time since he’d gotten under the blankets with her, she tipped her head upwards, so she could look at him. Her eyes reflected the orange glow of the firelight. Light blue, the colour of a sky on a winter’s morning. The nose ring also sparkled in the flames, reminding him he hardly knew this intriguing girl. So different from anyone else he’d met. But he wanted to get to know her. Thank God he’d joined the search. Thank God he’d found her. All of that earlier irritation towards her vanished now.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ he replied a little gruffly. ‘Now, I need to get up and see to the fire and make you a drink.’

  ‘What?’ She jumped like a startled rabbit in his arms. ‘Why? I’m fine. You don’t need to get up.’ Dusty suppressed a chuckle. It seemed she didn’t want him to leave almost as much as he didn’t want to go.

  LANA

  ‘Can you hear that?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘What?’ Lana tipped her head on the side. ‘It’s stopped raining, is that what you mean?’ She cradled the hot cup of sweet tea in her hands, the warmth seeping right through to her bones. He was right, she needed the drink, it was doing her good. Dusty made her sit up on their makeshift bed, still swathed in blankets and offered her the metal mug filled with the warming beverage. Now he was banging around near the fireplace, heating up some tinned baked beans for them both to eat.

  ‘Yes, it’s stopped raining. But do you know why?’

  Lana just shook her head and stared at him in anticipation. Then he did something completely unexpected. He strode over and flung the door wide open. It was pitch black outside. It was scary at how completely and utterly dark it was out there. The glow from the now blazing fire cast a small pool of light just outside the doorway. And in that light she finally made out what Dusty meant. Small white flakes drifted weightlessly down to earth.