The Geography of Happiness (Mackenzie Country)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Terry

True to his word, Zach was at the cottage on the dot of eight thirty the next morning. Hannah and Gabby had been waiting on the deck and were down the ramp before the poor guy even made it out of his truck. The retriever’s golden coat had been brushed until it gleamed, and Hannah almost vibrated with excitement.

“Whoa there, tiger.” I made it down the steps just as Hannah opened the back door for Gabby to jump in.

She huffed impatiently. “What?”

I arched a brow and she rolled her eyes, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“Have you taken all your meds and packed your lunchtime doses?”

“Daaaad.”

I simply waited.

“Yes,” she finally answered grudgingly. “I’ve taken my meds and packed the others.” She patted her backpack. “Happy?”

“Deliriously.” I checked in the back of the cab. “And you’ve got Gabby’s snacks?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“And your knee brace if you need it?”

Another eye-roll. “Yes. And my snacks, and a spare harness, and a jacket, and my other shoes. Zach said I don’t need the chair today. Did I forget something?” She regarded me impatiently.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything. “Have a lovely day.”

A grin burst over her face. “I will. Thanks, Dad.” She threw her elbow crutches in the back, and before I had a chance to even give her a hug, she’d scrambled into the front seat and was waving goodbye as Zach pulled away.

Oh boy. I tucked my silly dad heart back where it belonged, determined to simply bask in my daughter’s enthusiasm. It worked, mostly.

With an empty day ahead and nothing on my schedule, it was time for a mug of Earl Grey tea. I drank both tea and coffee, but tea was my secret indulgence, and I carried at least a dozen or so varieties in my pantry. I mentally thanked Gil for providing an equally well-curated selection in the cottage, along with a fantastic espresso machine. Tea in hand, I returned to my wicker chair on the front deck to stare across the lake, the bright blue water standing in stark contrast to the landscape drenched in a soft palette of brown, grey, and snow-tipped white.

I took a sip of tea and contemplated my options for the day.

I’d taken a rain check on Gil’s kind offer to take me on the same tour he’d given Hannah. There was just something about the handsome blond psychologist and those perceptive hazel eyes that made me uneasy. I figured I’d be spilling my guts in under an hour, and there was no way I was ready for that level of embarrassment. I’d deftly sidestepped the subject with my other friends for a solid three months. Why break a winning streak?

The mirrored lake surface shattered as the breeze ticked up and the kek-kek-kek of a hawk drew my gaze up to a blue sky dotted with creamy clouds. The bird patrolled gracefully over the lake shore on the hunt for who knew what. But there was a peaceful rhythm to its glide and soar that soothed something in my soul, and I watched until it flew from view toward the far side of the lake.

Although undeniably beautiful, there was also a brooding isolation that clung to the valley walls in this most special of places—a stillness that called to something deep inside me. Unnerving rather than threatening. A sense of the landscape peeling me open from the inside out, like at any moment my deepest secrets might spill onto the tussock and change me forever.

But there was also something else. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, or maybe I just didn’t want to—too close to the aching loneliness that nipped at my belly whenever I sat still for too long. Or the unrelenting fear of getting things wrong. Getting life wrong. Hannah’s life. Or just generally fucking things up. Solo parenting sucked. Solo parenting a kid living with disabilities due to a chronic health condition was a freaking nightmare.

“Dancing Queen” suddenly shattered the silence, sending my heart thumping against my ribs. “For fuck’s sake.” I snagged my phone from my pocket and took a calming breath. “You trumpeted, oh great one.”

A bleary Judah came into focus, his fingers working through the sleep tangle of his dark hair. “You didn’t call, arsehole,” he grumbled, those beautiful cheekbones slicing through the screen like blades on ice. He was calling from bed, his pillows jammed behind his head, those warm hazel eyes fixed drowsily on mine. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I didn’t bother to answer. My best friend rarely opted for brevity when a dictionary worth of words was available to hammer his opinion home.

“You promised to call when you got there,” he said crossly, his gaze narrowing. “I’ve been worried. You’ve been weird for weeks. Well, weirder than usual. Something’s up.” He stabbed a finger at me. “I know you inside and out, mister.”

Something I prayed wasn’t true.

When I still didn’t answer, he sighed unhappily. “Whatever. Keep your secrets. I am only your best friend, after all.”

Lord, help me. The man was a drama queen of the highest order. “I’m sorry. I forgot, okay? And nothing’s up. I’m just being me, you know, a worrywart.”

Judah worked his bottom lip and I knew what was coming. I loved my best friend to bits, but patience wasn’t one of his virtues. “Oh. My. God. It’s about Hannah going to Nolan Academy, isn’t it? I thought we’d been through all this?”

My cheeks burned. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s hard, that’s all. She’s still so young. Maybe too young.”

Judah blinked very slowly, and I could tell he was trying not to say the first pissy response that bounced onto his tongue. Instead, he drew in a deep calming breath. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of turning the scholarship down. You’re supposed to be down there in the middle of nowhere so that Hannah can upskill in preparation for the big move next year, not to set her up for breaking her fucking heart.”

Okay, maybe not so calm after all.

“We are, and I won’t,” I tried to reassure him, but even I could hear the edge of indecision and so I added, “Probably.”

Judah’s gaze grew steely. “She’s worked her butt off for this, Terry. We both have. No one deserves this opportunity more than Hannah. Pull the rug out from under her and she might never forgive you. Ask me how I know.”

I didn’t need to. Dance was Judah’s life. Maybe not in the way it had once been, or how he might’ve hoped as a kid, but it still meant everything to him and all the kids lucky enough to learn in his studio. Including Hannah.

When I didn’t answer, Judah sighed and softened his tone. “I know it’ll be hard for both of you. But this is Hannah’s time, Terry. She’s more than ready and she needs this. Hannah’s not like other fourteen-year-olds. She’s grown up fast because she’s had to. And she’s good, Terry. She has a gift, and she needs to use it if you want her to live with passion and meaning in her life.”

And no one understood more about that than Judah.

He continued, “So, hover all you want, put every precaution in place, but please don’t stand in her way.”

I blinked back the tears threatening in my eyes but not quick enough to avoid Judah’s canny gaze, and before he could say something I got there first. “I will talk to you, I promise, but not now. And if I remember right—” I raised a brow. “—you happen to know a fair bit about not being ready to talk, so maybe you can give me some space here.”

Judah flushed as the sting of my words hit home. Disappointment crossed his face, and I wished I could haul the words back. But it was too late.

He eyed me sideways. “Fuck you for going there, arsehole. Back then we weren’t friends like we are now. Plus, I remember a certain someone banging on at me about just how far I had my head up my arse at the time and that I didn’t have to do it alone. So, I’m telling you the same thing. You don’t have to do it alone, babe. I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, and I broke first. “You’re right. Do I need to say I’m sorry again?”

Judah blew me a kiss. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus Christ, you’re impossible, but okay, I’m sorry... again.”

He grinned. “And I forgive you, on the condition you tell Morgan how calmly I handled all this.”

I groaned. “Really?”

Judah raised a brow.

I shook my head in defeat. “Okay, fine.”

“Excellent.” He shot me a bright smile but there was something off about it.

I studied him for a moment, and that’s when I saw it. Tight lines pulling at his mouth and a pallor to his skin that highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. Judah looked... wrung out. Fuck. Some best friend I turned out to be. I eyeballed him.

“You had an attack, didn’t you?”

A flash of frustration crossed his face, but he didn’t try to deny it like he would’ve done when we were first getting to know each other. “Nothing too serious. I’m coming out of it.” He brushed it off and I knew better than to push too hard. We were two peas in a secretive pod.

“So, how is life in the Mackenzie?” He changed the subject. “Are there cowboys? Please tell me there are cowboys.”

I had to laugh. “No, you tosser. It’s a sheep station, remember? Shepherds, not cowboys.”

He considered that. “Sweaty straight men in black tee-shirts trailing after smelly sheep? The imagery lacks a certain hotness factor.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” I told him. “The dog trainer is married to the helicopter pilot who flew us in. Both men.”

Judah’s brows hit his hairline. “Really?”

“And the station is run by another handsome gay couple.”

“Whoa!” Judah interjected. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

He blew a low whistle as I continued. “And all the aforementioned men would—according to the Judah Madden hotness scale, which is unfortunately engraved on my brain—meet your hot-enough-to-melt-your-eyeballs gold standard.”

Judah’s gaze narrowed further. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

I placed my hand over my heart. “I swear.”

He eyed me dubiously. “Then I expect pics. Lots of pics.”

I sighed. “I’m gonna look like a total creep.”

He smiled brightly. “Absolutely. But if I’m going to pry Morgan away from his precious ocean, a few hot cowboys might just be the ticket.”

“Shepherds, not cowboys.”

Judah waved a hand airily. “Potaytoes, potahtoes.”

I groaned and added, “There’s something even better to lure him with.”

“Better than hot farmers?” Judah looked incredulous.

“See for yourself.” I flipped the camera around to pan the lake and its surroundings and Judah drew a sharp breath.

“Holy shit.” He was still staring open-mouthed when I turned the camera back around. “Morgan would flip his lid at all that nature shit. I see a dirty long weekend in our future.” He wore a grin from ear to ear, which did wonders for my heart. Unlikely friends in so many ways, and yet somehow we clicked.

“He’d love it,” I agreed. “How’s the store? Have you seen Jam?”

Judah rolled his eyes. “As far as I know, it’s still standing.”

I glowered. “Don’t mess with me. It’s the first time I’ve let anyone run the place while I’m away. I don’t know how I let you talk me into it.”

“That’s because you never go away for more than a couple of days,” he pointed out in what I considered an unnecessarily sharp tone. “And Jam’s not just some random. He runs his own business and you’ve known him for years. Admit it. You’re a control freak.”

I blinked at the audacity. “Pot, kettle, mister.”

“Hey,” Judah snapped. “How about you stop giving me grief and try thank you for helping me find someone, Judah ?”

I was being an arse. “Thank you for helping, Judah. It’s just that my entire life is tied to that store.”

“Which is the subject for a very tedious conversation best saved for another day,” he responded dryly. “Now give me a tour of this cottage.” He leaned sideways like he could see around the phone. “Exactly how rustic are we talking?”

“Try a bazillion thread count sheets.” I got to my feet and began panning.

Judah’s eyes popped. “Shut the fuck up.”

“See for yourself.” I walked him around the immaculate two-bedroom white weatherboard cottage, starting with the covered veranda, then continued inside through the open-plan living, with its clean simple lines and warm honey-coloured floorboards. A three-seater couch and two deep armchairs faced a large stone fireplace stacked with the makings of a fire. A giant wooden coffee table filled the space between them atop a chunky charcoal rug. The rest of the soft furnishings were a tasteful mix of greys and creams with pops of pale apricot.

Everything was wheelchair accessible, including a section of lowered countertop in the small but efficient kitchen. Work from local artists adorned the walls and a packed floor-to-ceiling bookcase ensured plenty of reading material. The beds were comfortable. The linen was crisp and expensive, and Judah oohed and aahed all the way around.

When we were done, I returned to my chair on the veranda and smiled at Judah’s obvious appreciation. “Not bad, huh?”

“Yeah, okay, I’m officially jealous.”

“Tell Morgan there’s great fly fishing.”

“Shut. Up,” Judah hissed and gave a furtive look over his shoulder. “Did you miss the part where my husband is a fisheries officer? Whenever I can manage to drag him on vacation, he doesn’t need any other rod in his hands except mine, got it?”

I choked on a laugh. “Got it.”

When Judah finally let me hang up, I made a fresh mug of tea and returned to planning my day. After a quick trip into Oakwood supermarket, I aimed to plant my arse back in the wicker chair and start writing lists. The pros and cons of Hannah going to Nolan Academy the following year. Hannah appreciated a good list as much as I did so it seemed a decent place to start. Then I’d prep dinner, and maybe even read a book until I fell asleep. I hadn’t done that in years.

It was a good plan, but I hadn’t taken the roads into account or the jaw-dropping scenery. My quick trip into town ended up a slow amble along an endless stretch of gravel as I gawped through the windscreen with the hum of the tyres playing backup to the smooth vocals of Billie Eilish. Never gonna apologise for loving that particular set of pipes.

And since I was rarely alone in a vehicle, I made the most of it by singing along to “Ocean Eyes” without a flicker of shame for all the missed beats and dubious notes coming out of my mouth. Cruising through undulating golden tussock and surrounded by a crown of snow-capped peaks, Billie and I were a match made in heaven. Not sure she’d agree, of course. Then again, I wasn’t asking.

The gnawing in my gut eased with every kilometre the ute crawled toward the towns of Tekapo and Oakwood. It was hard to stay stressed with lambs littering the landscape as far as the eye could see—white puffs of energy cavorting after their weary mothers along the river flats. By the time I passed the huge rock carved with the name Miller Station , I was slumped happily in my seat, right elbow out the open window, a smile on my face, wind blasting my hair, and my rough voice crowing loud enough to scare the cattle on the hills.

A few kilometres later, when the road made a sweeping turn out of the valley and started its run alongside the sparkling sapphire of Lake Tekapo, I pulled over to drink in the view and just breathe for a minute.

I cut the engine and let the mountains fill my head.

Cool air licked at my cheeks and I tilted my face skyward. Another hawk called somewhere in the distance, water lapped over stones at the lake’s edge, and the quiet thump - thump of my heart drummed in my ears. Feeling utterly alone, I waited for the familiar sense of unease to crawl over my skin, the itch to escape. It never came.

Alone time was a rare commodity in my life, and I seldom fought for it, preferring the distraction of people and noise. With a fourteen-year-old daughter, a business to run, volunteering at the school, and helping Judah with his dance classes, everyone took their slice of the pie and I never pushed back. Never said no.

It was a grand way to avoid your life.

Until you couldn’t anymore.

Until you found yourself in the middle of nowhere.

Until it rose up and slapped you in the face.

Until it asked where the hell you’d been.

Forty-five minutes later, I snagged a parking spot close to the main door of the Oakwood supermarket—a medium-sized retail outlet incorporating a small pharmacy, dry cleaner, and a chain coffee shop. The latter was enticing, but Gil had advised me to ignore all temptation and go straight to Meg’s Place on Main Street who, he assured me, had the best coffee in town.

My shopping list was quickly filled. The cottage was even better stocked than Gil had indicated. As well as what he mentioned, there was also seasonal produce and herbs from the station’s garden, a punnet of early strawberries from who the hell knew where, minced lamb, and a half-dozen lamb chops, courtesy of the station’s merinos I was betting. To those goodies I added Hannah’s favourite plum jam for her morning toast, a half-dozen cans of a locally brewed beer, juice, a selection of snacks, and a chicken.

A pink-haired teenager with a nose ring and clever grey eyes operated one of only two open checkouts. Chrissy, according to her badge, nailed me as a visitor straight off. As she deftly packed my groceries, she asked where I was staying, grinned at my answer, and told me Miller Station had the hottest guys around. I made a mental note to inform Gil and Holden of the station’s stellar reputation.

Chrissy went on to list all the best places in town to eat, including some place that did amazing barbecue. She then informed me she was on study leave with three exams left to sit, and wasn’t physics the absolute pits, a sentiment I happily agreed with. Small towns were small towns the world over. Oakwood might have a larger population than Painted Bay, but the nosy charm was still in evidence and retail outlets were still the hub of gossip, just like my hardware store back home.

Still smiling from the encounter, I wheeled my trolley to the ute and unloaded the shopping bags into the back seat. Then I jumped behind the wheel, consulted Google Maps for the whereabouts of Meg’s Place, and set course. The ute hadn’t backed more than two metres when frantic screams had me slamming on the brakes.

Chrissy appeared at my open window, eyes wide and gasping for breath. “Oh, thank God. I was sure you were going to run her over.” She tugged at the door handle and it swung open.

“Run who over?” I cut the engine and climbed out of the ute.

“Come and see.” Chrissy grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the back of the ute where she stopped abruptly, head snapping back and forth. “But—” She scanned the mostly empty carpark. “—where’s she gone?”

“Where’s who gone?” I persisted.

“Wait a minute.” Chrissy dropped to her knees and gasped. “Oh my god. Look.” She waved me down, and we both stared at the grey-and-brown bundle of canine cuteness cowering against my rear tyre.

“Holy shit. I could’ve killed it,” I whispered so I wouldn’t scare the pup. “Thank you so much for stopping me in time.”

“You’re welcome.” Chrissy blew a sigh of relief. “I saw her run across the car park while you were sitting in your truck. She’s been hanging around the last week or so, but she never lets anyone close. I brought a bit of dog food with me yesterday and left it on the ground under that tree.” She pointed to a cherry tree in the far corner of the lot. “It was gone this morning, but I don’t know whether she ate it or something else did.” She frowned. “I’m calling her a she, but I don’t really know for sure. I can’t get close enough. Looks young though. Maybe an adolescent.”

Watching the quivering animal, I agreed. Not much older than six months if I had to guess. And he or she was an unusual colour—a salt-and-pepper grey with random patches of brown.

“Chrissy!” A middle-aged man with long sideburns and a balding head beckoned from the entrance to the supermarket. “We need you at checkout.”

“Give me five, Brian,” Chrissy returned over her shoulder without even looking. “We’ve got a small emergency here.”

Brian stared a moment longer, then grumbled, “Consider it your break, then.”

As he headed back, Chrissy muttered, “Arsehole.”

“You don’t think you should do as he says?” I didn’t want Chrissy to risk her job for me or the pup.

Chrissy shrugged. “What’s he gonna do? I’m his best operator by about a bazillion brain cells.”

“A bazillion, huh?” I grinned.

She flushed bright red and shrugged. “It’s a small town, what can I say?”

I snorted. “Okay, well let’s not push your luck too long. How about you hold the pup’s attention while I sneak around back and try and grab it from behind?”

Chrissy thought about that for a second, then nodded. “Okay, we’ll give it a go.” She got on her knees and talked soothingly to the frightened puppy while I made a wide circle to the Hilux’s rear passenger door, keeping the tyre between the puppy and me.

“She’s backed against the tyre but more toward the engine,” Chrissy instructed, maintaining a singsong calming voice. “If you lean sideways a little, you should be able to see her tail.”

I did as she said and there it was. Two seconds later I held a wriggling puppy in my arms while a delighted teenager bounced at my side.

“Yes, we did it!” Chrissy exclaimed, stroking the pup. “Now wait there.” She scooted into the supermarket while I checked the pup’s undercarriage to confirm it was in fact a boy and then popped him onto the back seat of the ute so he couldn’t wriggle out of my arms.

Glimpsing the wet patch on my shirt, I sighed. “Dammit. Not a great first impression, you do realise that, right?” I eyeballed the pup who’d stopped trembling and was instead staring beseechingly up at me. “Oh no. Don’t aim those big eyes at me,” I warned. “I’m immune to your puppy wiles.” Then I scratched behind his small upright ears to show what a big fat lie that actually was.

The pup leaned contentedly into my hand, which made me think he hadn’t been on the streets his entire short life, a supposition confirmed a few seconds later when he rolled onto his back for a tummy scratch.

“We really need to have a conversation about playing hard to get,” I told him just as Chrissy arrived back with a brand-new collar and lead. “It’s a boy,” I informed her, securing the collar and lead in place. “And I think he’s too friendly to be a long-term stray.”

She gave a toothy grin. “Cool. But he probably hasn’t been vaccinated or wormed or anything. You need to get him checked out as soon as you can.”

I blinked. “Me?”

Chrissy met my obvious confusion with a level stare. “Well , I certainly can’t take him. I’m working, and our family already has three dogs. Plus, I’m off to university next year.” She flicked her head toward the supermarket where Brian was watching through the glass. “And I can’t exactly tie him up outside all day until I’m done, can I?”

I returned her stare. “And I’m only here for the week. There must be a local shelter I can drop him at.”

“You’d leave him at a shelter you didn’t know from Adam?” The horrified look on Chrissy’s face stopped me from blurting an immediate yes, and she continued. “How do you know it’s not a kill shelter? They might only keep him a week before putting him down.” She reached over and stroked the pup’s head. “Awwww, look at that face. Is that what you want?”

I bit back a smile, knowing full well I was being expertly handled. Chrissy’s tone reminded me so much of Hannah. And there was clearly only one acceptable answer. “No, obviously that’s not what I want. Aren’t there any non-kill shelters?”

Chrissy’s expression remained carefully neutral. “I’m not sure.”

I didn’t believe her for a second.

Chrissy’s gaze slid to the puppy. “There’s a vet on Main Street. You should take him there. They’ll know what’s best.”

My gaze steadied on hers. “I can’t take him with me, Chrissy.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t say you should. But like I said, they’ll know what’s best.”

And since tying the pup to a tree for hours wasn’t an option and delivering him to what was clearly the worst shelter in the world was an act likely to separate me from my balls, there was little for me to do other than plug the address of the vet clinic into my satnav and do as I was told.

An image of the unsettling and charming vet I’d met at the station came to mind as I pulled out of the car park, and my pulse ticked up. I frowned and shook my head. No. Surely not. The Mackenzie had to have more than one veterinary clinic, right?