Outback

I finally hired a private investigator. I knew Katie had been taken out of the country, I simply wanted to know where. I had no idea how I'd get her back otherwise. I had no doubt John and whoever was with Sally had pulled some stunt. I was told he'd see what he could find out, but I figured being a PI was more about following a cheating spouse rather than breaking into databanks to figure out where someone was. At least he did offer sensible advice. He would send the picture of my daughter to any police or investigative unit possible and see if he got any hits.

"Fuck it," I'd said, "Do it. See what happens." I had no expectations, but I still had hope. She could disappear, but not forever. But he suggested tracking John and Cheryl, watching their movements, and he might go asking some questions of ex-friends. He admitted to not being hopeful but understood my desperation. Plus, I was paying him.

The only social media I'd kept was Facebook under my old name, simply intrigued as to who would keep in contact. No surprise my disappearance had been noted, more than one concerned message from so-called friends. The same friends that didn't tell me that Sally was planning to leave with my daughter. Surprisingly, there was a message from Kelly, asking where I was and that she wanted to talk. She'd left that only a few days before. The fact she was still thinking about me, that she loved and missed me...

I felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing. She meant nothing to me anymore. None of them did. I had no doubt she'd known about everything. No doubt my older brother did. He'd always disliked me. You love family, don't have to like them. I'd always thought he was a fucking clown. Soon as I was bigger than him, I'd put him in his place. He'd never liked that. He was smarter, I'd give him that, but he'd always been a conniving fucker. No doubt he'd helped destroy my life and would have enjoyed every second of it.

Should have hit him again when I had the chance. I'd left him with more than one split lip and black eye when attempting to take the title I'd earned when putting him on his arse when I was only twelve. But I knew if I'd started pounding him after knocking out John, I might have finished the job completely.

This makes me sound violent. I don't feel I am. I put down beating up my brother every so often to typical sibling rivalry. He loved pushing my buttons and I reacted, because I loved knocking him down a peg or two each time. He was smart, I was strong. But once I was out of the house, I barely gave him a thought. Kelly? Our relationship was good, or so I thought. And I know she loved me. Or at least she had. Sally? Never raised my voice. Not once. I never wanted her to feel afraid in my presence as I knew I was a big guy. Never intimidated her. We argued, sure, but it ended with agreement or at least agreement to continue discussing it. As for Katie, she'd walked all over me. I picked her up from school and her teacher had called me 'her gentle giant'. Her friends had adored me, loving to ride on my shoulders as I ran around. All the mothers had trusted me like I was a favourite uncle. I was propositioned more than once when at the playground...

Wish I'd taken up more than one of their offers now.

"Fuck," I muttered, knocking back a shot. I grabbed the photo frame of my daughter and I, relaxing back on the couch, just drinking from the bottle, clutching the picture to my chest. I buried everything down. I really tried. But I couldn't. Not when it came to my little one. I kissed the picture. "I'll see you again, munchkin. One day, I'll find you and it'll be just daddy and daughter time."

I knew that was a promise I probably couldn't keep. I didn't know what to do. This is real life, not the movies, not a novel. There isn't always an easy answer, and I'd done what I thought was best. Police. Private Investigator. Maybe use the internet or social media somehow.

I finished the bottle before finally passing out.

Waking with a horrific hangover the next morning, I grimaced at the empty bottle on the ground. I knew finding solace at the bottom of a bottle was one step on the road to full blown alcoholism, but I wasn't all that bothered. Placing the photo frame back on the oak mantelpiece, I wiped my eyes before having some toast with butter for breakfast with a very strong black coffee.

Still felt woozy, so I walked to the homestead to find Ely out on the veranda, sweeping the never ending dust and dirt. She took one look at me and smiled. "You look like hell, Mark."

"Feel it too. Bill need any help today?"

"He's up at the third barn. He appreciates anyone pitching in a weekend."

The farm had a few methods of transportation. A couple of utes, tractors, a combine harvester for the crop season, and three off-road motorbikes. I had experience with those, remembering the days of hooning around with my friends on small trailbikes, running amok and skirting the edge of the law. So riding a motorbike came naturally, making sure I put on a helmet before taking off towards the barn.

He was hard at work fixing some of the wooden plans. He heard me coming, so it gave him a chance to take a break, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Taking the hammer and nails from him, I got to work hammering away.

"Got some news for you, Mark?"

"Yeah?" I managed to reply, considering the nails in my mouth.

"My daughter should be here within the fortnight. We'd normally go get her from the airport, but she's decided to drive home this time, considering she'd coming back permanently this time."

"Think I've seen her picture about in the house."

"Her name's Catherine, though she prefers Cathy. Not sure if I've mentioned that."

I shrugged as I wasn't either. "Looking forward to it?"

"Of course. House feels empty without my kids."

"Know that feeling," I muttered. Then I sighed. "Shit..."

"Don't worry about it, Mark. Plenty of time." He cleared his throat. "Ely told me about... your questions... I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry. I'm not particularly smart, good with or reading emotions, but Ely's got it figured out. Or, I think she does." I sighed again. "We're not going to push you, Mark. Trust me on that one."

"Trust... there's a belief I thought was dead," I muttered, "Thanks, Bill. For not pushing."

"You're a good kid, Mark. Elly and I can see that. Part of us just wants to help at the same time."

I stepped down from the ladder and gazed into the distance, heat haze on the horizon. Still wasn't summer but it was already warm. No doubt another hot summer. This part of the country, it was just heat. I could handle that. Summers in Sydney suck with the added humidity. "I do like it out here, Bill. It's peaceful. Don't want to sound all zen, but I might be able to find my centre here, maybe a little inner peace with everything. That was sort of the hope anyway. It was either that or... well..."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Inner peace sounds good, son," he said softly.

We finished up for the day and returned to the homestead. Offering me a beer, my stomach was still doing flips at times, but it would have been rude. Sitting on the veranda, I took a chair as Ely walked out with a glass of wine, joining her husband on the couch. The sun slowly started to set, the sky a beautiful mixture of red, orange, yellow, purple and blue. It was enough to bring a tear to the eye. I couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

"I won't say I'm happy," I finally said, "I'm not sure I'm ever going to feel that emotion again. But I can say the decision to come out here was correct. It's not going to be easy. Far too much in here," I tapped a finger against my temple, "But... I'll make one promise I know I can keep. I'll tell you everything when I'm ready."

"Whenever you are, Mark, we'll be ready too," Ely said.

******

Cathy

I had no problem singing along to the radio considering I was the only car on the road. It had been a hell of a drive from Brisbane, but I'd been smart enough to cut it into two, leaving mid-morning on the Saturday with a plan to arrive mid-afternoon. Entering the town of Longreach, I felt the smile form as I knew home was now only half an hour away, still singing along to the radio. Glad no-one was with me. I knew I couldn't sing to save my life. But it was a long car journey and it kept me entertained.

The farm was enormous, following the perimeter fence for at least twenty minutes before arriving at the entrance. The homestead hadn't changed, Dad's ute parked nearby. Driving by the homestead, I beeped the horn a couple of times before stopping, climbing out to be greeted by Mum running towards me. "Cathy!" she cried, practically leaping into me. My face was soon covered with kisses before I found myself in a great big daddy bear hug. He didn't have to say anything. I knew his body language after all these years. His gestures meant more than any words could say.

After grabbing my things from the boot, we carried it inside and upstairs to my old room. It had changed over the years. Most of the posters had now disappeared. The walls had been painted more neutral colours. The furniture had improved over the years. Dumping my things on the bed, I looked around and felt the smile form, happy with life again. It was good to be home.

"Mum, going to have a shower first! I definitely need one!"

"Everything is where you remember" she called back.

Mum had insisted on a nice bathroom and definitely a good shower. Before stepping under the water, I took a look at herself in the mirror. Shoulder length brunette. Brown eyes. Slight freckling over my little nose. Full lips. I hadn't been blessed with a big bust, just like mother, nothing more than a B-cup. At least it meant guys didn't stare at my chest all the time. But I kept myself fit, a toned arse and good pair of legs.

But I was single for a reason. Very few men would be interested in joining me out at an isolated farm. Sure, I'd lost my virginity during my time at university, as pickings were rather slim during my years at school in Longreach, but apart from one steady boyfriend that lasted around six months, I spent most of my three years away from home alone.

The shower was invigorating after over twelve hours of driving over two days. New underwear always felt great, a clean pair of jeans, cami then a long sleeve flannel shirt over it, finally some clean socks and my boots. Heading downstairs, Dad whistled, Mum turning to laugh at him. "Dinner will be at the usual time," she said.

"Good. I'm already starving. Haven't really eaten since breakfast," I explained, sitting opposite Dad. He was busy sipping at a beer, reading the paper. Probably the second or third time he'd read it during the day. "Anything new here?"

I noticed the glance between Mum and Dad. The latter finally cleared his throat. "Yeah, new guy working for us. Been here a few months now. Hard working. Polite. A good man."

Starting to rise, I said, "I should introduce myself. Is he on site? One of the cabins?"

"Wait, sweetie," Mum said, sitting next to me, "It's not that simple."

"What?"

"He's... wounded," Mum replied, "He's barely opened up to us. He gave away something the other week to Bill. Just a glimpse at what might have happened. He also asked me a couple of questions that suggest... I'm really not sure. But..."

"But what? Is he okay?"

"I think something happened with his family," Mum replied, "And from what Bill heard, it might have also involved a child too. That's simply guess work, trying to piece together his life."

"Whatever it is, it led to him leaving Sydney to end up here. And I get the feeling he's got no-one else," Dad added.

"Why don't I grab him for dinner then?"

"He prefers solitude," Dad replied, "Although that's probably not all that healthy considering."

I stood up. "Then I'm going to introduce myself and invite him to dinner. I'll have to get to know him anyway as we'll be working together. I can tell you everything I've been up to at the same time." Mum and Dad shared another glance. "Is he dangerous?"

"To you? No, not a chance. Don't think he'd harm a fly. To himself?" Dad shrugged.

"Which cabin, Dad?"

"Number two," he replied with a sigh.

Getting in my car, I followed the pathway towards the cabin. It had been empty for a couple of years after the last stockman had left to pursue other opportunities. Pulling up behind another ute, I got out and slowly walked to the door. The light was on inside, at least, so I knocked gently on the door.

The door was answered by a handsome young man. Would have put him a couple of years older than myself. Six foot something. Broad and he looked strong. But when I met his eyes, what should have been a pair of beautiful blue eyes, I felt a shiver down my spine. It wasn't from fear. It was... I'm not sure. But I'd never seen anything like them. No life in them whatsoever. It felt like he stared right through me, though he also saw me at the same time. I coughed nervously. "Hello, I'm Cathy," I finally said, holding out a hand.

He looked at it a moment before grasping it. "Mark," he said. The voice matched the eyes.

"I've just got home from university and we're having dinner. I was wondering if you'd like to join us?"

He scratched his stubbled cheek, which in my eyes, only made him even more handsome. He glanced back into the cabin and sighed. But he surprised me when he said, "Sure, give me a moment to put on some boots."

"I'll wait out here."

He nodded and I noticed that he shut the door. I guess he just wanted privacy. He appeared within a couple of minutes wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of boots. Gesturing to my car, he slid into the passenger seat as I drove us back to the homestead. I glanced at him and he just stared out the window.

I knew Mum and Dad were right. I'd seen similar things before. He was hurting. Big time.

Pulling up outside the homestead, I got out and led him inside, Mum having set the table. She smiled at me before looking at Mark, the smile not faltering though I noticed Mum's eyes. The flicker of sadness crossing them. I knew Mum well. She wore her heart on her sleeve. "Thank you for coming, Mark."

"You're welcome. Celebrating Cathy coming home?"

"Something like that. None of the other farmhands live here so it's usually just three or four of us, depending if her brother is here. Why don't you take a seat? Dinner will be ready soon. Bill?"

"Yeah?" he called from the kitchen.

"Get Cathy and Mark a beer, will you? Still drink beer, girlie? Or have you moved onto city fruity tooty drinks?"

I snorted and laughed. "Fruity tooty? Where the hell did you learn that one?"

"I've heard about all those cocktails they serve in city bars. What happened to simple beer, spirits and wine?"

I glanced at Mark, his face blank, though he nodded at my father when he appeared with a cold beer. "Thanks, Bill."

"You're welcome, son."

My head jerked at the use of that word. Dad didn't look at me before he turned back to the kitchen. Sipping at the cold beer, I relaxed into the chair and looked at Mark. He picked at the label of the beer bottle, his mind obviously a million miles away. Or he wasn't thinking at all. I was left believing there was no middle ground.

"Are you enjoying life here, Mark?" I finally asked. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but I had a feeling he would have remained silent throughout the meal without being prompted.

"It's different," he replied without expanding.

"Different to Sydney?"

"It's quiet here. I like the quiet."

"How did you end up here then?"

"Left Sydney heading west. Eventually turned north. Couple of days driving, I ended up in Longreach. Seemed like a good place to stop. Then I was pointed here." He finally looked up, meeting my eyes. Still nothing at all in them. "Your parents are good folk."

"They are."

He nodded before looking away again. The renewed silence was broken by Mum and Dad bringing in a couple of plates each. Roast chicken. Roast potatoes. Roast vegetables. Mum adding there would be dessert at the same time. I noticed Mark wait for everyone to serve themselves first before he loaded up his plate. He certainly had an appetite, practically wolfing down his meal, Mum laughing as he went back for seconds. "It would only go to waste if not eaten," she said. Mark heard the humour, the slightest, tightest of grins appearing. Mum smiled at him before she glanced at me.

I was asked about my time at university, going over what I'd learned and what I'd graduated with, I think more for his benefit than anyone else. I glanced at Mark from time to time, and though busy eating, he did seem to be listening, at least. I wasn't upset that my parents hadn't gone to my graduation. They ran a busy farm and a day off in the middle of the week simply wasn't possible. It wasn't a big deal anyway. It was more important that I came home and got to work.

"Still interested in some manual labour though?" Dad asked.

"I'll get my hands dirty, Dad. You know I enjoy it."

"I'll ease you back into it. Need to get some muscles back on those arms."

"I kept fit at the gym."

Mum made a cheesecake. Glancing at Mark again, it was perhaps the first time anyone saw a flicker of emotion on his face. "This is fantastic," he said. There was just a hint, the slightest hint, of something in his tone.

I glanced at Mum to see her blinking rapidly. "Thank you, Mark," she whispered.

We retired to the living room for a drink, Mum and Dad on the couch, Mark in a chair, while I took the one opposite. The three of us talked about life in general, Mark not really participating, but he seemed content enough to be in our company. But I already knew what Mum and Dad were talking about. We can all read people, one way or another. There was absolutely no joy in the young man sitting in that room with us. He was existing, not living. Going through the motions. I picked that up within a few hours. Mum and Dad had been living with it for months...

He eventually left, politely wishing us all goodnight. I offered to drive him back, but he declined, stating the night air would do him some good, and it wasn't a long walk. Once he disappeared, I rested my elbows on my knees. "My god," I muttered, "I don't think I've ever met anyone more broken in my life. His... aura..."

"Don't pressure him," Mum said gently, "I think if we do, he'll blow his top or clam up completely. He's ever so slowly opening up. I think he needs to. Whatever he's carrying on his soul, it's a burden that's... that has destroyed him. Once he's free of that burden, maybe life will return."

I lay back in bed that night, wondering about the young man living with us on the farm. He could have lived in the house, but Mum and Dad figured an offer would be turned down. They admitted to worry about him being alone but they couldn't force him to live with them. They knew he drank as the evidence was in the bottles left in the recycling, but he always started on time, never complained and performed the job well.

Dad had him out around the farm that week, taking one of the utes with supplies to mend the perimeter fence where required. He'd taken camping supplies as he'd likely be gone a couple of days, at least. Mum had looked after the financials, which would be my primary responsibility, while I would also be looking to secure better deals for the farm, basically to get paid more for what we produce. Suppliers are constantly trying to squeeze us, so we push back as hard as we can.

At the end of a long week, Dad and I would always sit on the veranda to enjoy a drink before dinner. We'd barely seen Mark since he left, but I thought he might have just returned and headed back to his cabin. Walking there, his ute was parked up so I figured he'd returned. Knocking on the door, there was no response so I tried the doorknob. No surprise it was unlocked, poking my head in. "Mark, are you here?"