Outback reunion, p.1
Outback Reunion, page 1
Praise for Rachael Johns
‘Modern issues, relatable characters, wit, intelligence and so much warmth—an absolutely unputdownable story.’ —Better Reading on The Work Wives
‘Looks at the power of female friendships, family ties, the search for love and the recovery process after significant trauma. A wise, discerning and entertaining tale, The Work Wives is a great addition to the Rachael Johns collection.’ —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘Johns is one of Australia’s most popular authors, and for good reason—she tells great stories. She always takes complex themes and then delivers them in a page-turning combination of heart, wit and wisdom . . . How to Mend a Broken Heart is yet another cracking read from Rachael Johns . . . in fact, it’s her best yet.’ —Better Reading
‘Imbued with an adventurous spirit, and ultimately hope, this book transports you mentally to a vibrant and unique city a world away . . . I highly recommend this book. I finished it feeling warm and cosy, if I’d just shared a wonderful adventure with two good friends.’ —She Society on How to Mend a Broken Heart
‘Rachael has delivered another realistic and relatable tale with everything from spooky old mansions with ghosts, to cultural culinary delights, to life lessons and the opportunities to start anew all in the iconic New Orleans.’ —Great Reads and Tea Leaves on How to Mend a Broken Heart
‘A brilliant read from one of Australia’s most popular authors, this will have you hooked from the very beginning.’ —Who on Flying the Nest
‘With her typical humour, empathy and wisdom, Rachael Johns has once again created characters you can’t help but fall in love with and wish the best for. Flying the Nest might just be her best novel yet!’ —Tess Woods, author of Love at First Flight
‘Writing with warmth and insight, Rachael Johns is brilliant at capturing the joy and sadness in all of our lives. I hope she has many more tales to tell!’ —Anthea Hodgson, author of The Drifter, on Flying the Nest
‘A really good book makes you feel like you’ve found a new friend—one that resonates with you, and one who you can learn from. That’s exactly how I felt in Rachael Johns’s new novel, Flying the Nest . . . This is a book that women will want to bond over, share laughs and tears over—a must read for every woman who has had their life take an unexpected turn.’ —Mamamia
‘Rachael Johns really gets women and is able to express the multilayered internal conflicts that so many of us experience, lay it all out on the page, and still make it deeply personal . . . She’s masterful at telling the stories of everyday heartbreaks . . . Flying the Nest is wonderful—Rachael Johns never disappoints.’ —Better Reading
‘If you like your chick-lit with a dash of intelligent social commentary, Just One Wish is the perfect summer read. Rachael Johns’s latest novel is sparklingly funny, quirky and totally of this moment.’ —Herald Sun
‘Johns knows how to weave the experiences of different generations of women together, with nuance and sensitivity, understanding how competing contexts shape women’s choices . . . Exploring themes like motherhood, the roles of women, and lost love, Just One Wish will make you look at the women in your own life and wonder what stories they haven’t told.’ —Mamamia
‘Johns draws readers in with her richly complex characters.’ —The Daily Telegraph on Just One Wish
‘Rachael Johns writes with warmth and heart, her easy, fluent style revealing an emotional intelligence and firm embrace of the things in life that matter, like female friendship.’ —The Age on Lost Without You
‘Heart-warming and compassionate . . . Any book lover interested in life’s emotional complexities and in the events that define and alter us, will be engrossed.’ —Better Reading on Lost Without You
‘Full of heartache and joy with a twist that keeps the pages turning . . . The Greatest Gift will appeal to fans of Jojo Moyes and Monica McInerney.’ —Australian Books + Publishing
‘Rachael Johns has done it again, writing a book that you want to devour in one sitting, and then turn back to the first page to savour it all over again. I loved the characters of Harper and Jasper; their stories made me laugh and cry, and ache and cheer and ultimately reflect on all the many facets of that extraordinary journey called motherhood.’ —Natasha Lester, author of The Paris Secret, on The Greatest Gift
‘The bond between Flick, Neve, and Emma blossomed as their sons grew up, but even best friends keep secrets from one another . . . Fans of emotional, issue driven women’s fiction will welcome Johns’ US women’s fiction debut.’ —Booklist on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘. . . a compelling and poignant story of dark secrets and turbulent relationships . . . I fell completely in love with the well-drawn characters of Flick, Emma and Neve. They were funny and flawed and filled with the kind of raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache for them.’ —Nicola Moriarty, bestselling author of The Fifth Letter, on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘Written with compassion and real insight, The Art of Keeping Secrets peeks inside the lives of three ordinary women and the surprising secrets they live with. Utterly absorbing and wonderfully written, Johns explores what secrets can do to a relationship, and pulls apart the notion that some secrets are best kept. It is that gripping novel that, once started, will not allow you to do anything else until the final secret has been revealed.’ —Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Secrets of Midwives, on The Art of Keeping Secrets
‘A fascinating and deeply moving tale of friendship, family and of course—secrets. These characters will latch onto your heart and refuse to let it go.’ —USA Today bestselling author Kelly Rimmer on The Art of Keeping Secrets
Once upon a time (briefly) RACHAEL JOHNS was an English teacher, then her dreams of becoming a novelist came true. Now she spends her days writing romance and women’s fiction in the Swan Valley, Western Australia. She is the bestselling, ABIA-winning author of The Patterson Girls and a number of other romance and women’s fiction books including The Art of Keeping Secrets, The Greatest Gift, Lost Without You, Just One Wish, Something to Talk About, Flying the Nest, How to Mend a Broken Heart, The Work Wives and The Other Bridget. Outback Reunion is the sixth in her series of rural romances set in Bunyip Bay. When she’s not writing, you’ll find Rachael reading, hanging with her adorable sheepadoodle, listening to audiobooks while cleaning up after her three teenage boys, or running the Rachael Johns’ Online Book Club on Facebook. Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website rachaeljohns.com
Also by Rachael Johns:
The Patterson Girls
The Art of Keeping Secrets
The Greatest Gift
Lost Without You
Just One Wish
Flying the Nest
How to Mend a Broken Heart
The Work Wives
The Rose Hill novels
Talk of the Town
Something to Talk About
The Bunyip Bay novels
Outback Dreams
Outback Blaze
Outback Ghost
Outback Sisters
The Hope Junction novels
Jilted
The Road to Hope
Man Drought
The Kissing Season (e-novella)
The Next Season (e-novella)
Secret Confessions Down and Dusty: Casey (e-novella)
www.harpercollins.com.au/hq
For Brooke, who I met when she reviewed my first book, Jilted, and who has become a friend and beta reader over the last twelve years. Thank you for being wonderful!
Contents
Praise for Rachael Johns
About the Author
Also by Rachael Johns
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Epilogue: Six Months Later
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Sometimes Gabi Howard felt like she was living her own personal Groundhog Day. Such was the life of circus folk, and as a performer in the Grand Jimenez Family Circus it was all she’d ever known. Day after day, night after night, week after week she trained hard, worked hard, glammed up and performed the same acts over and over again.
Was it any surprise she occasionally felt a desire for more? An itch somewhere deep inside her to get out and see the world outside this bubble?
What would her life be like if she hadn’t grown up under the wing of the Jimenez family? Who would she be? What would she do? And what would it feel like to stay in one place, to have a home where you could put down roots? The caravan she’d shared with her boyfriend, Dante, for the last couple of years was comfortable, but too small for more than the bare necessities. Besides, the
You’re just tired.
Usually, it was only on the exhaustingly long days that she felt like this. Days where they’d begun pull-down right after a matinee show, had hardly any sleep and then woken early to travel to the next town where they’d immediately start the build—two more days of hard yakka.
Today was their final build day—the Big Top, lighting tresses, seating, ring area, curtains, Globe of Death and Wheel of Steel were up—and tomorrow would be a full-on day of rehearsals before their first show that night.
Melbourne. Bright lights. The big smoke.
Everyone was buggered, so most of the circus had retreated to their trailers and caravans for an early night, but Gabi felt restless. Dante was already snoring when she emerged from their tiny bathroom, his arm muscles bunching as he hugged a pillow to his chest. He slept like the dead, but she knew the moment she climbed into bed, he’d sleepily discard the pillow and pull her into his arms, unconsciously spooning her body against his. Tonight, instead of changing into her PJs, she pulled on her black puffer jacket over her leggings and baggy jumper, slipped her feet back into her work boots and snuck out the door.
Loud Mouth, Dante’s prized rainbow lorikeet, looked over from his perch in his night cage just outside their caravan.
‘Midnight runner!’ he screeched. ‘Midnight runner! Midnight runner!’
Gabi winced as she pushed a finger to her lips. ‘Shh,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
In a clear strop at missing out on an adventure, Loud Mouth turned his back on her and buried his red beak beneath his bright green wing. Such a drama queen.
She chuckled silently as she walked quickly through the lot towards the exit, the lights of the city glittering in the distance. Although it wasn’t late, the only sounds came from the show dogs scuffling about in their pen and some moans and groans from the company accommodation—two long trailers divided into bunk rooms. These trailers housed everyone who didn’t have their own vans, from tent boys, sound and light technicians to ‘circus tourists’—performers and other employees who worked with the circus for a while and then moved on. Gabi herself had spent a few years of her teens sleeping in one of those bunks and she knew there was even less privacy in those trailers than the rest of the circus. No wonder everyone here knew everyone else’s business.
The temporary gates creaked a little as she pushed them open and she stilled a moment, waiting to see if a caravan door would open for a security check, but when none did, she slipped victoriously out. It wasn’t like she was a prisoner here or planning on doing a midnight runner, like many in the industry did when they wanted out, but she still felt a little bit sneaky. Circus folk tended to stick to themselves, and Dante and his family would be worried about what might happen to her late at night, walking the streets of Gladstone Park where they were currently camped.
But she’d like to see anyone try anything. Years of training as an aerial performer, not to mention the physical work and heavy lifting involved in other aspects of circus life, meant she was stronger than most men and could easily hold her own if anyone did anything untoward.
She’d only planned on going for a short walk—hoping the fresh air would shake the itchiness from her head enough that she could sleep—but she soon found herself passing a pub and, like the music of the Pied Piper luring the children away from the safety of their parents, the sound of tunes and laughter drifting from inside piqued her interest. She hadn’t ever been in a bar, restaurant or club on her own. At just over nineteen, she’d only been legal a year, and the few times she had gone for a meal or a drink it had usually been with Dante and his parents or other circus performers.
Just one drink, Gabi told herself as she stepped across the threshold. Inside was more modern than she’d expected, with funky bronze lamps dropping from the ceiling and the bar a pearly white with a pattern that reminded her of a waffle cone. There weren’t many people here, but that was fine. She wasn’t here to socialise; she simply wanted a little time-out.
An elderly barman with curly grey hair and a scar on his lip gave her a warm smile as she approached the bar and perched herself atop a stool. ‘What can I get ya, love?’
‘Um . . .’ Not a big drinker, Gabi stared at the rows of bottles behind the bar. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘That depends on why you’re drinking. Let me guess. Heartbreak? Celebration?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m exhausted but can’t switch my mind off.’
‘Ah, right. Well then, I recommend a Brady’s Milk Punch. That’ll have you catching zeds in no time.’
Gabi had no idea what that was. ‘Sounds good. Thanks.’
‘Hate to ask, but can you show me your ID? Not that I don’t trust you, but the fines are killers if you serve anyone underage.’
She flashed her driver’s licence at him.
‘Long way from home,’ said the old man, clocking the rural South Australian address. ‘What brings you to our parts?’
‘Work,’ she said, deliberately not specific as she didn’t want the questions that would inevitably come if she told him she belonged to a circus. South Australia was where the family stored old equipment and lived during their one month off per year.
He nodded and began to mix a white concoction in a shaker. He poured the creamy cocktail over ice and was sprinkling something that looked like cinnamon over the top when a shadow fell over her.
‘Be with you in a moment,’ said the barman, barely looking up from his handiwork.
‘No rush. Just wanted to pay for my dinner,’ replied a deep voice belonging to the shadow. ‘Evening.’
It took Gabi a second to realise this last word had been addressed to her. She opened her mouth to say ‘Hi’, but the word died on her tongue as she turned and came face to face with his piercing blue eyes. No; blue was too dull a word to describe all the shades and flecks of colour she saw. Perhaps crystal or electric blue was more apt.
Crystal Eyes smiled. ‘You here on your own?’
This might have sounded creepy, but she was too bamboozled by the mystical colour of his eyes to do anything but nod.
The bartender placed her cocktail down in front of her. ‘Here ya are, love.’
Gabi dug into her jacket pocket to retrieve a twenty-dollar note she’d shoved there a couple of nights ago when someone had bought fairy floss—she hadn’t had time to put it in the till before heading back to the Big Top to perform.
‘It’s on me.’ Crystal Eyes pressed his card against the EFTPOS machine before she could hand over the money. ‘And I’ll have another mid-strength, please.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she blurted. ‘I can pay for myself.’
He smiled. ‘I’m sure you can. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything in return.’
She forced a laugh as she lifted the drink to her mouth. ‘I should hope not.’ It tasted delicious. ‘But just in case . . . I’m paying for your beer.’
The barman chuckled as he put a frothy pint in front of the guy and Gabriela thrust the twenty-dollar bill at him.
‘Thanks.’ Crystal Eyes smirked, lifted his glass to clink against hers and then offered her his free hand. ‘I’m Mark. Pleased to meet you.’
For a few seconds, all she could do was stare. She guessed he was about the same age as her although the dimple on his right cheek gave him a boyish expression. In addition to those eyes, he had lovely, tanned skin, thick hair the colour of brown sugar that curled a little at the ends and a smile that caused her breath to catch in her throat. He was taller than her, taller even than Dante, and had broad shoulders, a muscly chest and arms that his t-shirt did nothing to hide.
‘And you are?’ His hand still hovered awkwardly between them.
‘Sorry.’ Her cheeks burning, she shoved her hand into his and gripped, totally flustered by her reaction to this man. She couldn’t blame the alcohol because she’d only had one sip, and it wasn’t like she was a stranger to hot guys. Dante was very good looking and had an amazing body—most circus folk did—but there was just something about this man. ‘I’m . . . Gabriela.’
