Tom helped her pack their bags in the back of the truck and pile the kids and dogs in the back seat. Libby got in the front next to him, and they headed for their new home.
* * *
Dogs barked and pulled at their chains as they drove past them over the cattle grid, past the barn and stables toward the huge, low-built homestead. Libby's spirits lifted at the sight of the old house surrounded by a large bull-nosed veranda running the length of the building complete with French doors. A potted plant sat on the steps, the wilted red flowers screaming out for water. Even with the paint peeling and the weeds growing around the steps, Libby fell in love.
On the top step watching them arrive, was a young boy of Aboriginal appearance. He held onto one of the veranda posts, giving them furtive glances as they climbed out of the vehicle.
“Winton, get your butt down here and grab some bags.” Tom growled at the boy.
Winton scampered down the steps and took some bags from Tom and ran back into the house with them.
“Follow Winton, and we'll show you the house.” Tom nudged Libby, who stood dazed on the pathway, too awestruck to move. She shook her head, still unable to believe this place was hers...at least for the next two years.
She gathered the kids in front of her, and walked up the steps into their new home. The entrance she walked into took her breath away. The walls were tongue and groove and rose twelve feet to meet ornate ceilings bordered by delicate scrolled plasterwork. Chandeliers hung low on brass posts, the crystal throwing rainbows around the ceiling. The cobwebs hanging in the light fittings and in the corners of the room did nothing to dampen the beauty of the house. The furniture was old, dark, and heavy, worn in patches and just beautiful in Libby’s eyes. Some of it was just about ready for the dump, but the overall effect was perfect...at least she thought so.
They followed Winton down the long, wide hallway to the rooms with Tom following them, carrying more bags. Winton stopped at the first door.
“You can have whichever rooms you want since it's your house.” Tom's rough voice came from behind her. “There's plenty to choose from. I just thought I’d set out some for now so I could put fresh sheets on the beds for tonight.”
“Thanks.” Libby smiled at how thoughtful he’d been. “I really appreciate it. It was very kind of you.”
His eyes gazed back at her from under his bushy, gray eyebrows.
“How about I put the kettle on and make a cuppa? When you sort yourselves out, I'll be in the kitchen.”
Libby settled the kids in the rooms Tom had readied for them. They were huge, and their doors opened onto the covered veranda. Josh's room had twin beds, and Holly's had a single bed Tom had made up with pretty bed linen that would appeal to a young girl. Heavy, dark dressers gave the kids plenty of room for their extra clothes when they finally arrived. Libby was thinking her furniture would look ridiculous in this house, but the kids might want their own stuff to make them feel more comfortable.
She went to the room Tom had chosen for her, and the tears welled up. When she looked at the big four-poster bed with the green and pink rose-covered bedspread, her anxiety eased and a sense of home enveloped her. The heavy dressing table with the embroidered love seat drew her like a distant memory. She walked over and sat down, running her fingers over the glossy dark wood of the dresser. She surveyed the large room and felt at ease as she never had before.
“Thank you, Uncle Thaddius,” she whispered. “Thanks for giving us a chance.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly before she stood up, walked around the room and looked through the door on the other side of her bed. It was a dressing room, and beyond that, a bathroom. And it was all white. The fittings were old-fashioned but far more appealing than the vintage-green set in her old house.
Libby laughed and went in to wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her tired eyes and messy hair. She pulled her hair band off and ran her fingers through her locks in place of a brush, pulled it back onto the top of her head and twisted her hair into a knot, twining the band around it. She took a final glance around the room, pulled herself up straight, and rose in search of the kitchen and that promised drink.
She could hear the whistle of the old steam kettle before she found the kitchen. Following the black-and-white tiles down a hallway that seemed to go forever, Libby walked into the spacious open room. A table sat in the middle of the kitchen, mismatched wooden chairs surrounded it. Tom sat at one end holding his mug between his hands. Libby took a seat as her gaze continued to roam the kitchen.
An old hutch dresser held a blue and white dinner set, which looked as though it’d seen many a family dinner. Some of the plates had minor cracks and chips, but that didn’t detract from the simple beauty of their pattern. The windows above the sink were open to let in the gentle, evening breeze, and the back door stood wide open. Winton leaned in the doorway, propped against it as he kept his eyes slightly downcast, sneaking peaks at Libby.
She picked up her cup of tea and sipped gratefully. “Thanks for coming to pick us up. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.
