19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Trent

The drive into town was strange. The current landscape was so different from the usual beautiful mountain vista that it was jarring. Houses lined the road, stark without the usual green surroundings, and then there were the gaps where houses should have been but stood no more. Trent swallowed heavily and focused back on the road. It was easier, safer, to keep his eyes on the dotted white line. Safer because he could pretend the devastation didn't exist. Sort of.

Jesus, he was so blessed that Callum had been at the guesthouse when the winds had changed, trapping him out of town. If it wasn't for Callum staying to fight the fire, the whole guesthouse—his dream—would have been lost forever. He'd be forever grateful that Callum had put his life on the line to save the guesthouse. The guesthouse meant everything to him. No, not everything. Callum is the most precious thing, and I'll do whatever I can to look after him.

Callum fiddled with the radio, something he always did whenever they got in the car. As annoying as it usually was, this time it was comforting, a reminder of something from before. Because that's how Trent now thought of things. Before the fire. After the fire.

An upbeat song came on and Trent found himself humming along. Hard not to, really, with Callum tapping his knee to the tune. God, the man loved his music.

"Let's grab something for lunch before we hit the hardware store. I'm starving."

Trent laughed. "You're always starving."

"All that labouring builds up an appetite. Plus I've been spoiled with all the food you've been feeding me. I've grown used to it."

"God knows how you used to survive when you were making do in the cott—Sorry." Trent glanced at Callum. "I shouldn't have said that. The cottage was your home, and you must have liked the independence."

Callum placed a hand on his thigh. "Is it bad if I admit that I don't miss my independence one iota? I like living with you. I know I was sort of forced on you with the cottage gone…"

Trent took his eyes from the road for a moment. He looked at him, wishing Callum didn't have his sunnies on so he could see his eyes. "It might have been a situation forced on us because of the fire, but I'm glad you're living in the house with me too. We would have got there eventually. This just sped things up."

Callum squeezed his thigh as Trent looked back to the road.

"Well, I'm glad that's agreed." Callum chuckled. "Because I sure as hell don't miss the two-minute noodles. Your cooking wins hands down any day."

They drove in companionable silence for a while. They'd always gotten on well, Callum being so easy to be around. Hiring him to be the groundskeeper-cum-caretaker for the guesthouse had been one of the best decisions Trent had ever made. Not only was Callum a hard worker and able to work well with his hands—oh god, and wasn't that something that Trent had come to experience first-hand in recent months? He chuckled at his own joke—but Callum had brought Trent out of his shell. He hadn't realised just how lonely he'd become over the last year, almost a hermit in his own home. Yes, he had guests staying in the house a lot of the time, but entertaining paid guests, who often wanted their privacy anyway, wasn't the same as bonding with someone. Someone you could talk to about anything, from a simple plant choice for the garden to issues of life and death. It was special to have someone care about you enough to bring you a cuppa while you were working and know exactly how you take your tea, or just have someone to share a simple meal or a movie with. I'm lucky. Lucky Callum taught me to trust again.

Trent drove into the parking lot, pulling up next to the building that housed the coffee shop. His gaze was drawn to the huge multi-coloured mural on the wall in front of him. He got out of the car, looking about. The row of shops across the road, the pub behind him. At least some things didn't change, the town having been spared the brunt of the fire's ferocity when the bushfire was halted at the outskirts.

Callum rounded the car and nudged his shoulder. "C'mon. This man needs feeding."

Trent chuckled, hit the fob to lock the car, and followed "his man" to the coffee shop in the converted cinema. They found a table straight away—somewhat of a surprise really, as the place was usually packed to the rafters. He relaxed as he ordered his usual breakfast and then they settled back, waiting for the food to arrive while they enjoyed their coffee.

They hadn't been seated long when Joe approached. "Boys." The old man ducked his head in greeting.

"Hey, Joe. How's it going?" Callum asked.

"Hmm. Usually I'd say I can't complain, but you know, with things how they are, that'd be an outright lie. But things could be worse, I guess."

Callum nodded. "Mary holding up okay?"

Joe and Mary lived further out of town than the guesthouse. They'd been in brief contact so he knew their home had survived the fire, but other than telling them he was temporarily closed for business, Trent hadn't spoken to them again. Now he felt terrible that he'd been so engrossed in his own problems that he hadn't checked more on the older couple.

"She's holding her own. Keeping busy helps, so thank god she has the chooks to look after." He turned to Callum. "By the way, I can't thank you enough. She was so grateful for the help in repairing the boundary fencing so the chickens could run and didn't have to stay cooped up. We both are. You must stop around for afternoon tea soon so we can thank you both properly."

"It was my pleasure, mate," Callum said.

Trent raised a brow, and Callum shrugged, a half-smile on his face. Why doesn't it surprise me that sometime in the last few weeks, Callum has found the time to help Joe and Mary out? Now Trent felt like even more of an arsehole. While he'd been stewing in his own problems, Callum had been working his butt off at the guesthouse and found the time to help the neighbours. But at the same time, his heart swelled with pride. Callum really was one of the good guys.

"Perhaps you and Mary would like to come around for dinner one night," Trent offered.

"That'd be nice. I'll check with Mary and get back to you, if that's okay."

"No worries, Joe."

"Your place doing okay?" Joe asked.

Trent nodded. "We were spared the worst of it. The guest house was left pretty much untouched, but the grounds were burnt, and we lost the cottage and outbuildings."

"Yeah, Callum mentioned the damage. I'm sorry."

Trent shrugged. "It could have been worse."

"Thank god the fire didn't do much damage down our end of town. The poor Murrays lost everything."

"And the O'Donnells," Trent added. "We were lucky in the scheme of things."

Joe snorted. "I'm not sure luck had much to do with it. More like hard work and sheer determination not to let that bloody beast get the better of us. Thank Christ for the firies. Mary was telling me some of the local families are thinking of leaving, not bothering to rebuild."

"No insurance?"

"Probably in some cases, but I think it's more fear that it could happen again."

"I get that," Trent said, and he could. He was petrified of facing another fire season like the one just past but at the same time determined not to abandon his dream. "It's hard too, what with the downturn in tourists. Usually at this time of the year we're overrun with people seeking a mountain escape, but it's like a ghost town out there. People might have their homes insured but if they depend on tourists for business, then they're stuffed. No income."

"Tell me about it," Joe said. "Mary is collecting eggs with no one to take them. If I never get served another bloody omelette for dinner, it'll be too soon."

Joe sported a smile as he spoke, but Trent could sense the reality behind the joke. It was a knock-on situation. The fear of fire and the damage to the bush, combined with the destroyed accommodation, kept the tourists away. Businesses like Trent's stopped buying local supplies because they didn't have any customers to cater for. The local fresh food producers had either lost their gardens or saved the gardens but didn't have anyone to buy their produce. Cafés were quiet, and stores doing slow trade. The hardware store was probably one of the only businesses doing a roaring trade as residents bought the equipment and supplies needed to rebuild.

"Here are your meals," the waiter interrupted, placing plates in front of them. As Trent looked at the plate piled high with eggs, bacon, tomato, and toast, he was glad they'd decided to eat out and support a local business.

"On that note, I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast," Joe said.

"Don't forget to mention dinner to Mary."

"Sure thing. Cheerio."

Trent picked up his napkin and smoothed it across his lap. "He looked tired."

"As do half the town, especially the older folk. The weeks of uncertainty and preparation, then battling through the fires and the aftermath have taken its toll. But guys like Joe, they have grit and determination. He'll come through okay."

"I hate seeing what it's done to the town."

Callum placed a hand on Trent's. "I know you do. But it'll be okay. The people of this town are made of strong stuff. Sure, some will leave, but most will stay, and they'll rebuild. Just have a look what we've achieved already."

"You mean what you've achieved."

Callum smiled and released Trent's hand, picking up his cutlery. "We make a good team."

Trent warmed at the thought. "That we do."

We make an awesome team.