Page 45 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Chapter Thirteen

Liv

It takes a while tosettle into my workday. Some bad dreams hang over me for days, attacking with visions in quiet moments, reminding me of the terror and the heartache of that day. The nausea lingered until first break, but the day improved thanks to Jerry’s texts and the evening ahead.

Dinner and S’mores at Jerry’s farm.

As the saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I swear if you feed me S’mores, my heart is as good as yours.

By the end of the school day, I make myself a promise to open my heart. There’s no doubt Jerry and I are attracted to each other. I can’t see us simply being friends. If we’re going to get serious, we need to share more of ourselves. I can’t tell him everything but need to share more. If I’m brave enough, I’ll tell him about the accident. If anything, it’ll explain why I baulked last night with his touch. I don’t want him to think he did something wrong.

After a quick stop at home to grab some warm clothes and a few things, I head for the farm. I have no idea if I’ll sleep over. If falling asleep on him last night is any indication, I should be prepared. Country roads are dangerous after dusk, and I’d hate to cause the death of another wombat, or kangaroo, or a person. I turn up the music and sing my heart out as I cruise down the highway, thoughts of Jerry and I dancing.

Gravel crunches beneath my tyres as I turn off the highway into a narrow driveway. I’m grateful for Jerry’s detailed directions and the large steel post with3830at the gate, otherwise I would’ve likely driven straight past.

I follow the worn tyre tracks until Jerry’s work Ute comes into view, beside a grey-painted weatherboard cottage with sashed windows, a pitched roof, and small porch. White Victorian style woodwork features beneath rusted gutters. The surrounding hedges look freshly trimmed; curled autumn leaves litter the mossy stone path to the house. By the flaking paint on the timber, the place has seen better days, but it looks cosy, inviting you in to explore.

Jerry emerges through the front door, hair wet in a grey hoodie and jeans.Gulp. A flash of white and brown bursts from behind him, a high-pitched bark causing me to flinch. When I open the car door, the small dog whines and jumps onto my lap.

“Hey, boy.” I giggle and hold him back as he licks my face. With a ruffle of the Jack Russell’s ears, he shifts, revealing a small stump in place of one of his back legs. My heart pangs, remembering his rescue story. “You must be Pirate.”

At the sound of his name he whines, his tail whips at lightning speed against the steering wheel.

A whistle rings out and Jerry steps up to the side of the car. Pirate’s ears prick up and he freezes.

“Hey, there.” Jerry’s voice is smooth, causing a flutter of activity in my stomach.

“Hey,” I reply unable to hold back a grin.

“Great job, welcoming committee,” Jerry says through a chuckle. “Now, get outta here. Let the pretty lady out of her car.”

Pirate runs off. I grab my bag and close the door.

Jerry places his hands on my shoulder and leans in, pressing an easy kiss to my lips as if it’s second nature.I could sure get used to this.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he says against my mouth as he smiles.

I press my hands against his chest and sigh.Hungry in more ways than one.Whilst I’m still feeling a little off, I’ve barely eaten today. “I am. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothin’ fancy. Beef and chunky veg stew.”

“Sounds amazing.”

He takes my hand and walks me around the side of the house to a worn dirt path, which splits the overgrown grass. A row of candles in paper bags are dotted beside the path that leads to a crackling fire, a camp oven beside it on a bed of coals. It’s picture perfect.He did this for me?

“I need to sort out some lighting,” he says and rubs at the back of his neck as we stroll towards the amber glow.

“No, the candles are perfect.”

Two camping chairs are positioned to one side, beside them a picnic blanket and a box with plates, glasses, and cutlery. He’s really thought this out. How lucky am I?

Conversation is easy as we share a beautiful meal. With the setting sun, the pop and crackle of the fire and warbling birds are like a balm to my soul.

Jerry reveals a little more of his childhood. How he was a bit of a problem child and struggled with school, especially subjects he wasn’t interested in. I sensed there was stuff Jerry wasn’t sharing, some kind of distress he perhaps experienced as a kid. I’m keen to know more about his family, but not wanting to be pushed myself, I find it hard to probe.

“My brother Finn took on a lot of responsibilities ’round the farm, but I needed to get away, you know. Make it on my own. That was important to me.”

“I totally get it. I was so directionless after finishing school. I had decent grades, but nothing really grabbed me. Moved from job to job. My dad couldn’t handle it. He’s a successful big-shot lawyer and his only child was a failure in his eyes.”

---