Remind Me Why I'm Here
Gus and Maya meet ...
The heat hit Maya first. Followed closely by the dry, earthy smell. And then the flies. So many flies! Screwing up her nose, Maya stepped out onto the dusty, packed dirt of the driveway and looked around. All that met her was empty yellow-brown grass-filled paddock, next to empty yellow-brown grass-filled paddock, next to empty yellow-brown grass-filled--Wait, did that one have alpacas in it? She liked alpacas about as much as she liked cows. Or sheep. Or anything with more than two legs, really.
‘Here you go.’ The driver plonked Maya’s suitcase at her feet. ‘You’ll be fine, Miss.’ The Fanta-haired woman offered her a reassuring smile. Was her worry that obvious? Maya caught her own reflection in the car’s window and--yep, her face might as well have had the words Get me out of this backwater town now! written on it.
Maya swung her backpack over her shoulder and turned toward the house. Make that a homestead. Hand shielding her face from the setting sun’s glare, Maya took in the single-storey structure. What it lacked in height it made up for in impressive width; the sandstone frontage seemed to stretch forever. A corrugated iron roof atop a wooden veranda skirted the entire length of the front and wrapped around the sides. A set of stairs, five rungs tall, ran the span of the deck, split only by a small ramp to the right.
The bang of a flyscreen cut through the incessant drone of what sounded like a gazillion crickets rubbing at a mega case of athlete’s foot. Out stepped a sturdy woman wearing a pale pink sleeveless cotton shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. Her smile was so wide its corners stabbed Maya in the gut with guilt for having thought words like backwater town.
‘Welcome.’ The smile grew wider as the woman approached. ‘We’ve been expecting you. I’m Jenny Robertson. You can call me Jen.’ She held out a tanned, work-roughened hand for a no-nonsense handshake. Jen nodded at the driver over Maya’s shoulder and the car’s engine spat to life. Moments later, the uber wound its way up the long red dirt driveway to the main road. Maya swallowed. No way out of this now.
Jen took hold of Maya’s suitcase. ‘You’re just in time for dinner, but I imagine you’ll want to clean up, maybe have a rest first?’
‘That’d be nice, thank you.’ Maya forced a smile and followed Jen. Some time alone to let this new version of her trip sink in was exactly what she needed.
Another bang of the flyscreen brought Maya’s eyes to the front door again. Her feet slowed at the sight: blue cotton shirt sleeves rolled up, thumbs hooked into the pockets of dirt-smeared jeans. A guy about her age leaned against one of the veranda posts and watched her from beneath the rim of a tattered cowboy hat. The only thing about him that said welcome was the small brown-and-white dog at his feet, tail wagging furiously. Maya sighed. This trip just keeps getting better and better.
‘My youngest son, Angus.’ Jen’s voice propelled Maya’s feet back into normal motion. ‘Don’t just stand there, Gus. Introduce yourself and give us a hand with the luggage.’
Maya only managed a few steps before Gus’s long strides had him standing in front of her. Up close, she could see his hair was a couple of shades lighter than her own almost-black not-quite curls. His eyes were a closer match—a deep earth brown. Even with the frown creasing his tanned features, Maya had to admit the guy was cute.
‘Hi, I’m Gus.’ The smile he offered Maya as he took her luggage didn’t make it to his eyes. What was up with that?
At least the dog wasn’t the yappy, jumpy type and left her alone after it sniffed at her feet.
And hopefully her host sister had a better attitude than Farmer Boy. They climbed the front steps to the house and Maya scanned the veranda for a female teenage face.
Jen must have seen her looking around. ‘Now, you might be expecting to meet our daughter, Ruth. Unfortunately, she’s had to leave to help out with an urgent … family matter.’ Jen’s voice dropped on the last two words and took Maya’s sinking expectations for the rest of the day with it.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I can wait till tomorrow to meet her.’
‘That won’t be possible.’ Jen frowned in apology. ‘She’ll be gone for the rest of the summer.’
Maya’s mouth dried up. Gone for the rest of the summer?
‘No need to worry,’ Jen said, opening the flyscreen door. ‘Gus here will look after you instead.’
Perfect.
Maya’s gaze snapped to meet Gus’s across the wide entryway they’d stepped into. The smile he gave her was brief and tight and full of forced obligation. No prizes for guessing how he felt about this arrangement.
‘Why don’t you show Maya to her room while I go check on dinner,’ Jen said, disappearing through what Maya assumed to be the kitchen door.
‘This way.’ Gus led the way down a long hallway. With Jen gone, Maya had no choice but to follow.
‘Here you go.’ The driver plonked Maya’s suitcase at her feet. ‘You’ll be fine, Miss.’ The Fanta-haired woman offered her a reassuring smile. Was her worry that obvious? Maya caught her own reflection in the car’s window and--yep, her face might as well have had the words Get me out of this backwater town now! written on it.
Maya swung her backpack over her shoulder and turned toward the house. Make that a homestead. Hand shielding her face from the setting sun’s glare, Maya took in the single-storey structure. What it lacked in height it made up for in impressive width; the sandstone frontage seemed to stretch forever. A corrugated iron roof atop a wooden veranda skirted the entire length of the front and wrapped around the sides. A set of stairs, five rungs tall, ran the span of the deck, split only by a small ramp to the right.
The bang of a flyscreen cut through the incessant drone of what sounded like a gazillion crickets rubbing at a mega case of athlete’s foot. Out stepped a sturdy woman wearing a pale pink sleeveless cotton shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. Her smile was so wide its corners stabbed Maya in the gut with guilt for having thought words like backwater town.
‘Welcome.’ The smile grew wider as the woman approached. ‘We’ve been expecting you. I’m Jenny Robertson. You can call me Jen.’ She held out a tanned, work-roughened hand for a no-nonsense handshake. Jen nodded at the driver over Maya’s shoulder and the car’s engine spat to life. Moments later, the uber wound its way up the long red dirt driveway to the main road. Maya swallowed. No way out of this now.
Jen took hold of Maya’s suitcase. ‘You’re just in time for dinner, but I imagine you’ll want to clean up, maybe have a rest first?’
‘That’d be nice, thank you.’ Maya forced a smile and followed Jen. Some time alone to let this new version of her trip sink in was exactly what she needed.
Another bang of the flyscreen brought Maya’s eyes to the front door again. Her feet slowed at the sight: blue cotton shirt sleeves rolled up, thumbs hooked into the pockets of dirt-smeared jeans. A guy about her age leaned against one of the veranda posts and watched her from beneath the rim of a tattered cowboy hat. The only thing about him that said welcome was the small brown-and-white dog at his feet, tail wagging furiously. Maya sighed. This trip just keeps getting better and better.
‘My youngest son, Angus.’ Jen’s voice propelled Maya’s feet back into normal motion. ‘Don’t just stand there, Gus. Introduce yourself and give us a hand with the luggage.’
Maya only managed a few steps before Gus’s long strides had him standing in front of her. Up close, she could see his hair was a couple of shades lighter than her own almost-black not-quite curls. His eyes were a closer match—a deep earth brown. Even with the frown creasing his tanned features, Maya had to admit the guy was cute.
‘Hi, I’m Gus.’ The smile he offered Maya as he took her luggage didn’t make it to his eyes. What was up with that?
At least the dog wasn’t the yappy, jumpy type and left her alone after it sniffed at her feet.
And hopefully her host sister had a better attitude than Farmer Boy. They climbed the front steps to the house and Maya scanned the veranda for a female teenage face.
Jen must have seen her looking around. ‘Now, you might be expecting to meet our daughter, Ruth. Unfortunately, she’s had to leave to help out with an urgent … family matter.’ Jen’s voice dropped on the last two words and took Maya’s sinking expectations for the rest of the day with it.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I can wait till tomorrow to meet her.’
‘That won’t be possible.’ Jen frowned in apology. ‘She’ll be gone for the rest of the summer.’
Maya’s mouth dried up. Gone for the rest of the summer?
‘No need to worry,’ Jen said, opening the flyscreen door. ‘Gus here will look after you instead.’
Perfect.
Maya’s gaze snapped to meet Gus’s across the wide entryway they’d stepped into. The smile he gave her was brief and tight and full of forced obligation. No prizes for guessing how he felt about this arrangement.
‘Why don’t you show Maya to her room while I go check on dinner,’ Jen said, disappearing through what Maya assumed to be the kitchen door.
‘This way.’ Gus led the way down a long hallway. With Jen gone, Maya had no choice but to follow.