Page 34 of Best Laid Plans

Suddenly, it was just like old times. Laughter had always been a hallmark of their friendship.

‘What about hiring Frank Pope, the crop duster?’ Lucy suggested. ‘He’s a dab hand at sky-writing. Can’t you just see it written in the sky? Will Carruthers, tonight’s the night.’

Laughing with her, Will scratched at his jaw. ‘That’s a bit too personal. What about a subtle message in code?’

‘All right… let me see… something like… the hen is broody?’

‘In your case it would have the Goose.’

Lucy snorted. ‘Oh, yes. A broody goose.’

She collapsed back onto the rock, laughing. Their conversation was ridiculous, but it was so therapeutic to be able to joke about such a scary subject.

Her anxiety was still there, just under the surface, but she felt much better as she lay on the warm rock, still chuckling as she looked up at the sky through a lacework of green branches.

She and Will would have to stay relaxed if this plan was to have any chance of working. Perhaps everything would be all right if they could both keep their senses of humour.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WILL’S phone rang a week later, when he was sitting at the breakfast table with his parents. Quickly, he checked and saw Lucy’s name, and felt a jolting thud in the centre of his chest.

‘Excuse me,’ he mumbled, standing quickly. ‘I’ll take this outside.’

His heart thumped harder than a jackhammer as he went out onto the back porch, letting the flyscreen door swing shut behind him.

‘Good morning.’ His voice was as rough as sandpaper.

‘Will, it’s Lucy.’

‘Hi. How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks.’

There was an awkward pause – a stilted silence broken only by a kookaburra’s laughter and the whistle from the kettle in the kitchen as it came to the boil.

Will’s heartbeats drummed in his ears.

Lucy said, ‘I was wondering if you were free to come to dinner tonight.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yes, would that be okay?’

Will was shaking, which was crazy. This entire past week had been crazy. He’d been on tenterhooks the whole time, waiting forLucy’s call. He’d actually lent a hand with drenching the sheep, much to his father’s amazement. He’d enjoyed the work, even though he’d originally made the offer simply to keep himself busy, to take his mind off Lucy.

‘Sure,’ he said now, walking further from the house, out of his parents’ ear shot. ‘Dinner would be great. I’ll bring a bottle of wine. What would you prefer? White or red?’

‘Well, I’m making lasagne, so perhaps red?’

‘Lasagne? Wow.’ As far as he could remember, cooking had never been Lucy’s forte. Perhaps she’d taken a course? ‘Red it is then.’

‘See you around seven?’

‘I’ll be there.’ And then, because he couldn’t help it, ‘Goose?’

‘Yes?’

‘Is this –?’

---