Page 1 of Fires Creek
6 months earlier
“Fuck off,Jesse, I don’t want to hear it!” I slammed my fist against the counter, and popped the cork out of my second bottle of wine.
“Rivvy, babe, you’re not thinking straight. Calm down, we can talk about this,” he stammered pathetically. God, he was such a creep.This mother fucker actually thought I was oblivious to the fact he was having an affair at the same time I was watching my mother die.Prick.
“Get your shit, and get out!” I shouted, shoving his bag in his face and storming out of the kitchen, locking the bedroom door behind me – bottle of wine, still in hand.
I heard the front door slam a few minutes later, and his stupid hybrid car sped out of the driveway. God, I can’t believe I was actually going to marry him. I took anotherswig from the bottle of cabernet. It would really be better in a glass, but I was beyond caring.
Flopping onto the couch in the corner of my room, I flicked the TV on, only to be met with the Colgate smile of some realtor that called himself ‘Link Tyler, Realtor for the Stars.’Wow, thank you, Link. I will be sure to sell you my soul. Realtor for the Stars, my ass.
The ad continued and snippets of property previews filled the screen. I was about to click the remote and go to bed, when the most beautiful, old farmhouse that I had ever seen flashed across the screen. Rustic fences scaled their way across fields of well-maintained paddocks. At the end of a long, winding, gravel road sat the huge log-built homestead. A large chimney adorned the rooftop, and a thick cloud of smoke billowed out across the ranges.
Trees in various shapes and sizes, ranging from deep green to burnt orange, lined the property. It looked socosy.The camera scaled across the acreage, showcasing the huge river nearby, the surrounding properties, and the mountain ranges that laid nestled behind the farm. Cattle lowed in nearby paddocks, and the camera panned to a scene of horses galloping across the plains.
“Not to be missed, the infamous Ashwood Manor. If you’re looking for adventure, head on down to Fires Creek and check out this pristine property!” came the overly optimistic tone from our buddy, Link, as the ad blared over the TV speakers.
Without taking a second to process what I was doing – or consider that 9:45 pm is probably not an appropriate time for business calls – I dialled Link’s number, and in my drunken state, made him an offer hecouldn’t refuse.
My eyes felt heavy as I woke up, still on the couch, and rubbed the grit of sleep from them. A wet, stained piece of paper with poorly scribbled gibberish was plastered to my coffee table.
Link blah blah. 750k. Fires Creek. Carter something.
Fires Creek?
What the fuck is Fires Creek?
Who the fuck are Link and Carter?
What have I done?
Present Day
As my carchugged through the town square of Fires Creek, I soaked in the abundance of greenery. People wandered through the village hand-in-hand, kids rode their bikes on the sidewalk, there were also a lot of cows.
How the hell did I end up here?
I wasn’t a country person.
Have I lost my mind?
The city I lived in was so much bigger, louder, and bustling with opportunities. I found a job almost instantly. The years of online graphic design school, and the 4-hour commute for practical days finally paid off, I guess. I clawed my way up the corporate ladder until I was living comfortably enough to freelance instead. That’s where the money was.
Huge corporations paid me through the roof to do menial shit, like logo design and website creation. Being my own boss gave me the freedom to choose my clients and take on pro-bono jobs. I’ve done quite a lot of work for not-for-profits and charity organisations that couldn’t always afford high-end design services, and I had no problem sucking big corporations dry to help the underdog.
The next few years were a blur of pub crawls, one-night stands, and whatever powder the guy I took home was buying that night. Sometimes, there was more than one. Guy that is, not powder. Although…
One night, I met a bloke in a bar – classy, I know – and ended up moving in with him after a few weeks. Jesse proposed within a month of my arrival, and we were all but ready to walk down the aisle. Then, after Mum died, I started drinking, broke off my engagement to that cheating sack of shit, and promptly purchased a fuckingfarm. I don’t know why I’d assumed I was the kind of person who could liveon afarm, let alonerunafarm, but here we are.
I could hear Mum now: “River Carlisle, what’s gotten into you? Why do you always have to be so reckless?”
Then, she would kiss my nose and laugh as she recounted some old memory of her and Dad. She’d give me shit about it, but she’d ultimately end up going along with my crazy scheme anyway. I missed her. Mum was always my biggest supporter and cheerleader; although, I know she wished I had settled down a bit more. I was barely 32, I had time. I just wish she did too…
The morning after my delightful phone call with Link, he’d called me to follow-up on my offer. Something about my slurred words and the inappropriate hour of my phone call apparently made him consider that I may not have beenentirely sober. According to him I had talked his ear off, placed a ludicrous offer on the property, and promptly fallen asleep on the phone. Definitelynotmy finest moment. Most people get a piercing or change their hair after a breakup. But not me, nope. I get blind-drunk and buy afarm.
I had always been on the frugal side, invested and saved, so the outlay for the farm really didn’t set me back too much financially, thank God. I suppose one of the perks of my job is that I made damn good money. That didn’t mean I spent it wisely… Like the time I brought 9 different leather jackets because I couldn’t decide. Or the espresso machine I got online that Istilldon’t know how to use. Don’t even get me started on the amount of bar tabs I had covered…
I’d set up a coffee date with Link and we sat down to discuss the logistics of the settlement. He was actually surprisingly down-to-earth. I was expecting a flamboyant douche-canoe, but I was met with a humble country boy.
