Page 41 of Dawn Skies (Stormcloud Station)

“How do fried eggs and tomatoes on toast sound?” Kee asked, after rummaging around in the basket for a while.

“Yay,” Wazza and Benni chorused together, and then both had a fit of giggles.

“You two are a pair of silly gooses,” Kee said, not unkindly.

Wazza found an old dead log, and after checking underneath for snakes or any other creepy crawlies, he pulled it over to their makeshift campsite, so they had something to sit on. He unpacked the tin cups and plates that Lefty had given them, lining them up along the log for Kee. The food smelled delicious, and his stomach rumbled. Kee seemed to have got the hang of the gas stove quickly enough, she had a frying pan full of eggs and tomatoes on one burner, and bread toasting over the open flame of the other. Benni sat close by, watching every move her mother made. He had to smile. A mini version of Kee in the making. He wondered if Kee even realized how much her daughter followed in her footsteps, wanted to please her. Watching them made him understand exactly how much a child depended on their parents, needed their parents’ love and support. Then it struck him how little he knew about being a father. Had he been kidding himself that if Karri had survived, they could’ve pulled off being parents together? Would little Ava have looked at him with such concentration and wonder? And uncomplicated love?

He shook his head and walked away from the domestic scene of mother and daughter. After a few seconds of deliberation, he went over to the hamper and pulled out the bottle of wine. It was still cool from the ice blocks on the bottom. It might not be the most appropriate time, but boy, he could do with a drink right now. Better to drink it while it was still cold. He found the corkscrew at the bottom of the hamper—because of course Skylar had included one—and drew out the cork.

“Dinner’s ready,” Kee called, ladling eggs on top of the toast on the three plates. She helped Benni clamber up onto the log, and handed her the plate, food already cut into bite-size pieces.

Wazza nudged her shoulder and handed her a tin mug full of wine. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, then took a small sip. Her face lit up in delight. “Courtesy of Skylar, I assume?”

He tipped his hat by way of acknowledgement. They both settled on the log, plates resting on their knees, staring at the dry riverbed. The cicadas were singing full throttle tonight—they always got louder toward the end of the evening—and a flock of white cockatoos wheeled overhead. A slight breeze tickled the leaves above as the heat of the day finally abated. The isolation suddenly struck him. They were alone out here, possibly the only people for a hundred kilometers, or more. But this thought didn’t bother him. Instead, it filled him with peace. It was one of the reasons he loved living in north Queensland, you could get away from the madding crowd, and enjoy nature at its rawest.

“It’s kind of beautiful,” Kee said, through a mouthful of food. “In a deadly kind of way,” she added. “Sort of like how a leopard leaping for its prey is beautiful, yet deadly.”

He’d never heard it described like that before. But then the famous poem by Dorothea Mackellar suddenly came to mind.

“Her beauty and her terror-

The wide brown land for me!”

He spouted the words vaguely remembered from his time at school.

“Yes, exactly,” Kee said, a large smile engulfed her face. Christ, she was so pretty when she smiled.

He took a sip of wine, letting his gaze drift over the vista in front of them.

“I guess I never really stopped to look at it before,” Kee said, thoughtfully. “It’s always just been a whole lot of dry country to me, made me thirsty just looking at it.” She chuckled softly.

An hour later, Wazza listened to the sounds of Kee putting Benni to bed inside the tent as he set up his improvised swag. He angled it just right so he could see through a gap in the branches up to the night sky. The two glasses of wine—he hadn’t indulged in any more, he needed to be sharp for tomorrow’s drive—had mellowed his mood nicely. He watched the silhouettes play across the tent wall, backlit from the LED lantern inside, and a part of him wanted to be in there with them, partaking in the nighttime ritual. Kee’s voice was a low rumble, the words indecipherable as she read a book to Benni. Then things went quiet, the light was turned off, and Wazza assumed they’d both fallen asleep. He lay back, hands behind his head, and stared up at the night sky. The quiet sound of a zipper being drawn down alerted him to Kee emerging from the tent, flashlight in hand.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d gone to bed.” The beam of light flicked over him quickly and then dropped away.

“I haven’t. Not really. I was just watching the stars.”

“Do you mind if I join you? Benni’s asleep, but I’m still wide awake.”

“Not at all.” He shuffled sideways a little, making room for her on the tarp.

She lay down next to him, head on his pillow made from a folded coat, not quite touching. She’d loosed her hair from her customary braid, and it fell long and satiny across the coat. “It’s gorgeous,” she sighed as she stared up into the heavens. “I only really noticed how clear the stars are out here on the night when we were stuck at the bore. You don’t get this view in the city.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed.

They lay in silence for many moments, appreciating the view above. The Milky Way was sprayed across the sky as though an abstract artist had painted the nighttime with their brush. Individual stars were so clearly defined against the velvet backdrop, Wazza felt as if he could reach up and touch one.

“One of the many things about this land that keeps me here,” he said.

“So, you like living on Stormcloud? You like your job?” Kee asked conversationally.

“I love my job.” As he said it, Wazza realized just how true it was. He thought about the email still waiting for an answer, dangling the offer of a new job. He finally knew what his answer should be. Thank you, but no thank you. He’d stay on at Stormcloud for a while longer, because there was no reason to leave.

“Working there isn’t merely a job,” he said, rolling his head slightly so he could look at her. “It’s a way of life. The boss and the rest of the staff aren’t just workmates, they’re good friends, lifelong friends.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” She shifted on the pillow so they were eye to eye. “There’s not many jobs in the world you could say that about.”

“No,” he agreed.

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