Page 87 of Outback Reunion

The things she’d told him tonight about that man made his blood boil. Dante was lucky he was already dead, because if not, Mark would lock him in the Globe of Death and leave him there.

Lethimsee how it felt to be so vulnerable.

He hated that for Luna’s sake, that scumbag’s face was the last thing Gabriela saw before she went to sleep at night and the first thing every morning. It wasn’t fair that even though Dante was gone she had to relive the pain he’d inflicted on her daily.

No matter what Gabriela said about being tied to the circus, it wasn’t healthy for her to be in this place with her toxic memories. If she stayed here in Bunyip Bay, she could have the normal life she craved. There were plenty of opportunities for Luna as well. It was a great place to bring up kids and she could even join his junior girls’ footy team. If the potential she’d shown on the beach was anything to go by, she’d be his star player.

Of course, the best thing about all of this would be that he and Gabriela wouldn’t have to stop seeing each other.

He just had to prove to her that leaving and following her own heart—taking a chance on them—wouldn’t make her a bad mother.

***

After tearing himself from the caravan and creeping through the lot, quietly so as not to alert anyone of his presence, Mark drove home, almost missing the turn-off to his own farm because he was trying to come up with a game plan. When he did get there, he took a beer out onto the front verandah and as he sipped and thought, he tried some of the training techniques Luna had taught him with Rookie. At first the dog cocked her head to one side, looking at him like he was crazy, but after a few attempts of ‘sit’, her buttalmosthit the ground. Mark laughed and tried again, firmer this time as he remembered Luna telling him he had to sound like the boss. When something moved in the garden, Rookie set off to investigate, and Mark headed inside.

Sometime in the hours between midnight and dawn, he sat bolt upright where he was dozing on the couch. He’d had a dream—or rather a nightmare.

In the dream, Mum had engaged Ryan’s husband, Grant, to find him a wife. The two would-be matchmakers had hired out the Bunyip Bay town hall and invited women from all over Australia to come and pitch themselves to him. There’d been thousands of women of all ages, sizes, races and more, so many that the queue had been out the door and right down the main street of town. It had even garnered attention from national media.

Sweat poured from his forehead as he recalled his mother telling a journalist fromSunrisethat she wasn’t letting Mark leave the hall until he’d found himself a wife.

He’d felt like Prince Charming fromCinderellaas he’d sat through woman after woman offering gifts, telling him why they’d make the perfect farmer’s wife, singing songs, reading cringy love poems, offering lap dances and worse. All the while he’d been scanning the queue, desperately hoping Gabriela would be one of them.

‘Holy fuck. That’s it!’

Rookie startled from where she was curled up at the end of the couch.What?she seemed to ask.

Mark grinned and ruffled her neck fur, his heart-rate returning to normal as he realised what the dream was trying to tell him. The answer was Grant! He’d do what everyone had been pestering him to do since he got back to Bunyip Bay. He’d request the help of their newly crowned matchmaker. See if this guy was as good as everyone said he was.

But first, morning jobs—it hadn’t rained for weeks so he needed to refill the sheep troughs and check on the new chickens—breakfast and then a shower. He couldn’t turn up at Ryan and Grant’s place until a more reasonable hour, but despite the fact there was always work to do on the farm, the time dragged until he could go.

Forrester’s Rock, where Ryan and his dad farmed, was further south of town but still only a short drive. Mark knew the way almost as well as he knew the route to his own place. He bumped along the gravel drive, passing sheds and a worker’s cottage, before the main house appeared in front of him, the blooms starting to fall from the jacarandas in the front yard. As he walked through the garden—not quite as well tended as his mother’s—he spotted Grant lazing in a hammock on the verandah. Not an old sheet like he and his mates used to string up between trees as kids, but a fancy-looking contraption that probably cost a small fortune.

Grant looked up from a novel he was reading as Mark approached. ‘G’day, Mark. You looking for Ryan? He’s out mending fences or something. Tried to convince me to join him but—’ he held up both his hands ‘—these babies weren’t made for farming.’

‘Actually, I’ve come to see you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah.’ Mark cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward, but now he was here, he might as well spit it out. ‘I need your help. Got a few minutes?’

‘What kind of help?’ asked Grant. ‘It’s my holidays, you know, and if I’m not gonna risk splinters for the love of my life, I’m hardly gonna do it for you. No offence.’

He chuckled. ‘None taken. It’s nothing to do with farming. It’s...’

‘Don’t tell me.’ Grant’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his face as he snapped his book closed. ‘You’ve finally seen the light. You want me to help you find a lay-dee.’

‘Not exactly. I’ve already found the lady—thewoman.’

‘Well, colour me intrigued.’ Grant swung his legs over the side of the hammock and stood. ‘Can I get you a drink while we chat? Tea? Coffee? Cocktail?’

Mark looked at his watch. Barely nine o’clock. He wasn’t sure if he was joking about the last. ‘A coffee would be great, thanks.’

Grant gestured for Mark to follow him inside. Although he’d been here lots as a kid, he hadn’t visited in the last decade and things had changed. After Ryan and Faith’s mum had died, Faith had played house for her dad and brother for years, but she’d often complained that Frank Forrester treated her like hired help and wouldn’t let her change anything. Now, however, the house had been painted almost all white, filled with framed prints from Broadway shows, and the furniture looked edgy and modern. Grant had done a lot more than just move in.

‘Does Frank still live here with you guys?’ Mark asked. He couldn’t imagine the surly farmer feeling comfortable in such arty-farty surrounds.

Grant pulled milk from the fridge and dumped it next to a fancy-looking coffee machine. ‘You haven’t heard? Frank got himself a girlfriend—I didn’t even have a hand in that match—so although he officially still lives here, we hardly see him. They’re away at the moment. And as soon as they get back, Ryan and I are off to Bali for the last two weeks of the school holidays. Can’t wait. I’m gonna have ten massages a day and drink my body weight in Pina Coladas.’

---