***
Watching Bryce walk with my parents from the chopper as the rotor slowed down was kind of heart-warming. It was clear Mum was a fan, not only from her cooking lesson earlier but by how she let him hold her arm as they walked, guiding her along. Dad seemed pleased as well, talking non-stop, his mouth and hands moving in unison at a rapid rate.
I stood up and grabbed my brother’s arm, gripping it tightly. “Please be nice,” I said under my breath. I then turned my back to Bryce and looked Jake in the eyes. “I’m in love with him Jake, I mean really in love with him.” I tugged my brother along as we stepped down from the porch.
Mum patted Bryce’s arm as an indication to let go so that she could embrace her son. “Jake, Darling.” She pulled the cigarette from his mouth and butted it out on the ground.
“Mum!” Jake protested.
She completely ignored him and wrapped her arms around her big boy.
Dad kept walking past and slapped Jake on the back. “Good to see you, Son. I’ll need your help in the stock yards in a minute, some of the heard has pinkeye again.” Dad continued on into the house, I’m assuming to prepare the ointment that he had to wipe into the cows’ eyes. Just the thought of it had my stomaching churning again. Ewww, big cow eyeballs with oozy ointment. I gagged, and I swear I spewed a little in my mouth.
“Are you okay?” Bryce whispered, looking a little concerned.
I smiled at him and whispered back. “Yeah, I’m just a little extra queasy today.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he gently moved a piece of hair away from my eye.
He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head. “Do you need anything?”
Still whispering, I answered, “Hmm, I could think of a few things.” I smirked at him and his eye involuntarily twitched, making me giggle.
“Ahem,” Jake cleared his throat.
I turned, squinting my eyes at my brother. “Jake, this is Bryce. Bryce, this is my brother, Jake.” I kept my tight grip around Bryce’s waist.
He reached an arm out to shake Jake’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Same. So, is that your ride?” Jake motioned to the chopper.
“Yeah, is that yours?” Bryce motioned to the Harley.
“Yeah, sure is.”
“2010 Fat Boy Lo, right?” Bryce pried my hands away from their comfortable position on his firm sexy arse and started to walk toward Jake’s bike. I pouted at the loss, but more so because I could feel my massive sexual urge creeping up on me. I was terribly tempted to sneak him into the shed and take him in amongst the hay bales. Hmmm, that’s a thought.
“Yeah,” Jake answered, impressed. “You like bikes? You’ve probably got a few, right?”
“Just a couple,” Bryce said modestly, obviously trying to play it down in the hope he did not come across as boastful. I knew he had a couple of motorbikes in his garage, although I’d never seen him ride them, nor did he ever talk about them. I made a mental note to ask him why at a later point in time.
Jake and Bryce soon became embroiled in a heavy discussion about ‘Knuckleheads’ and ‘Ecosses’, so I left them to it, deciding to take a walk.
***
I had wandered down the hill my parents’ house sat upon and across the creek into the furthest paddock on the property. Nate had followed me on his bike as far as the creek but decided to turn back when I said I was heading to the hay shed. When he was younger, I had put the fear of God in him, telling him the shed was full of snakes—which technically, it probably was. He had refused to go there ever since, so my not-so-false-lie had worked a charm. The hay shed wasn’t really my destination though, the gum tree that was only ten metres from the shed was. When I was younger, I would often climb up it a few branches high and perch myself comfortably in the gum’s inviting arms, reading my books for hours.
I always knew it was time to head back to the house when I heard Mum’s voice echo across the valley, shouting for me to return home—her voice probably carrying for miles. I just loved it on the farm; it was my one true home, and I loved that my children got to experience it as well.
I made my way to the gum’s large trunk and traced my fingers along the etchings I had made during the years. ‘Alexis’ tree home 1987’; I scratched that one when I was ten. ‘Mum and Dad suck’; I’m pretty sure I was 12 years old when I engraved that one. They’d said I couldn’t go to the school disco, and that decision pissed me off. ‘I love Johnny Depp’; yep, I was definitely 14 when I lovingly tattooed that to my tree. And finally, ‘Rick and Alexis were here 1995’. I poked at the letters as tears welled in my eyes, memories flooding back of the two of us sitting in this very spot studying for our school exams—my head on his shoulder as he quizzed me about the ‘Fair Trading Act’. I wiped the tears away and moved around the trunk some more, smiling when I got to the spot where I had marked Nate and Charli’s birth dates.