“Good luck, mate!” yelled the bus driver, then added something under his breath that sounded like “crazy pom”.
Sam hefted his battered duffel bag over one shoulder, squinted up at the bleached sky and headed out, walking north.
The road climbed steadily, leading him past yellowing fields and scrubby bush, to a distant ridge thickly covered with tall, thirsty-looking eucalyptus trees.
His shirt was soon saturated and ringed with salt. He shifted the duffel bag to his other shoulder and walked on, more slowly now. Not because of the heat or the dust or the growing weight of his bag, but because he was nearly at his journey’s end. What on earth was he going to say to Tara when he got there? ‘Hello’ seemed deeply inadequate, and wasn’t quite the devastating opening that he was looking for, but anything else sounded – well, he didn’t know how it sounded. Dumb, probably.
He reached the crest of a hill and stared down across the valley, pausing to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. It was beautiful in a bleak way; a beauty that was more to do with the sculpted hills and the sharpness of the horizon than the bareness of the land.
Sam pulled a bottle of tepid water out of his bag and took a long drink. He was tempted to tip the rest of it over his head but decided it was more useful to save it for drinking. He thought Tara’s place must be near, but the bare hills gave no clue.
A battered Land Rover roared up behind him and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust and diesel. Hopefully the driver would be able to point him in the right direction because there didn’t seem to be a single building of any description in the valley below, or anywhere else nearby.
The driver’s door opened the door and a woman jumped out. She was tall with spiky blonde hair, her skin turned a golden-brown by the sun.
“Sam? Oh my god! Sam!”
“Tara!”
Sam’s eyes were hungry but uncertain. He dropped his bag to the ground and strode forwards, hesitating for the smallest fraction of a second before scooping her into his arms. There were no words.
He kissed her until he couldn’t breathe anymore, and when he opened his eyes, she was smiling at him.
“You are the dumbest, most stupid, most ridiculous, most clueless excuse for an idiot of a man I’ve ever met, Sam Patterson.”
“I know,” he said, grinning back.
He was a year older but was he any wiser? After all, he was still hopeless with women…
“What kept you?” she said.
Sam’s Blog
I’m in Melbourne, Australia. I’ll write soon to explain.
PS Julie – I guess you’ve won the bet.
Australian haiku
All the music I need
In the arms
Of my love.
THE END