Blue Rogue

Lyssa Abrams lugged her suitcase into the tiny, weatherboard farmhand’s cottage and she pushed her shoulders back with a deep breath. A small, half smile touched her lips as she glanced around the small living room. Her new home was simply furnished with an old, brown lounge suite, a Formica coffee table that must’ve come from the 1960s, and a tiny television with rabbit-eared antennae. Beyond the lounge room was a small kitchen with a tiny timber dining set for two and a fridge/freezer.

Okay. So, it was dated. Lyssa could deal with that. She had all the time in the world to make this place her own, and she could deal with a few pieces of outdated furniture. It was an adorable, simple home—the perfect place for her to reset her life and see what she could make of it on her own.

The keys jangled against the door as she pulled them from the lock, and her mind was transported back to the way the lone silver key to her ultra-modern, Brisbane apartment had stood out against the black kitchen bench that morning. Lyssa squeezed her eyes shut as flashes of the final fight with her ex-partner flashed through her mind. The screams, the tears, the blaming.

He’d blamed her for it all.

He was the one who had cheated, yet somehow, he still managed to lob the blame onto her.

“You don’t make an effort anymore. I expect my girlfriend to look and act a certain way. Somewhere along the way, you’ve forgotten about what’s important.”

Lyssa was sick and tired of living up to Sean’s shallow, narcissistic standards. But it didn’t give him the right to cheat on her.

With a sigh, Lyssa made her way along the hallway to the bathroom and two bedrooms. Glancing from one to the other, Lyssa settled on the room with the double bed and dressing table. She would have to stash her clothing in the armoire in the other room, but she didn’t mind. She had the entire place to herself, after all, and no neighbours for a kilometre. She didn’t expect she would see the occupants of the main farmhouse much either, since they spent a lot of time at one of their properties a couple of hours away.

This was Lyssa’s chance to discover what it was like to live a carefree life. The payout from her recent split due to Sean’s infidelity—including the sale of their high-end apartment and the separation of their assets—meant that she wouldn’t have to rush to find a job immediately, giving her time to settle into a slower-paced lifestyle.

A lock of her thick, brown hair fell across her green eyes as she hefted the suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. She set a couple of books, her alarm clock, and her gangly cream teddy bear on the side table, then placed her makeup, perfume, and jewellery atop the dressing table. Most people would probably have found it odd for a grown woman to have a teddy bear, but Wilbur was special. A gift from her grandmother when she was a young child, it was the last thing Grandma had given her before she succumbed to ovarian cancer. Wilbur would stay with Lyssa always, carrying the spirit of Grandma with him wherever he went.

After wiping a tear from her eye, Lyssa carried a pile of clothes across the hallway to the armoire and hung them with the provided hangers. Setting her underwear in the drawer below, Lyssa came across an old drawing. The aged paper had yellowed slightly, and it crinkled like autumn leaves as Lyssa lifted it out to study it. A fairly decent representation of a blue dog with a stick figure family graced the page with “To Mrs. Warner” written in childlike handwriting at the top.

Lyssa smiled. “How adorable.”

Setting her underwear in the drawer, Lyssa took the picture out to the kitchen and hung it on the fridge with one of the magnets and stepped back to admire it a little longer. When she turned around, she noticed an envelope propped up against a small, empty glass vase. She pulled out a letter written on a card with a border of roses.

Dear Lyssa,

Welcome to Rose Ridge Cottage. We hope you settle in quickly. We will be away for the next few weeks attending business. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact my son, Heath, on the following number…

Margie.

Lyssa entered the phone number into her phone and hung the note on the fridge before she went back to the room. It was nice to hear she may not be entirely alone out here. She hoped Heath was as nice as his mother.

With another glance at the vase, Lyssa decided it wasn’t going to stay bare for long. She made her way out to the well-tended garden. The scent of lavender permeated the air as she brushed past them on her way to the pink climbing roses that wove their way around a white trellis. They would do nicely. Using a knife she pilfered from one of the kitchen drawers, Lyssa nipped two large blooms off the vine and carried them back into the house. She ran the tap, filling the vase a quarter of the way before arranging the two stems inside and set it back on the table, instantly brightening up the room.

“Now what?” she muttered.

She wasn’t used to not having much of anything to do. She’d spent so many years racing around like a headless chicken, she honestly didn’t know how to spend down time. She couldn’t go to a day spa or have a massage, she couldn’t go to the hairdresser, or get a mani-pedi at the local beauty salon. Out here, she had to make her own fun.

Lyssa took a deep breath and whispered to herself, “I can do this.”

She made her way back to her bedroom, picked up one of her books, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, and made her way out onto the cement veranda, which wasn’t more than a couple of inches higher than the ground. She placed the glass of water on the ground and sank into a rickety old metal seat and shifted a few times. Once she thought she was comfortable, she opened her book, but then she shifted again. Geez, this thing was uncomfortable!

“Ugh!” Lyssa grunted. She shifted once more and yelped as she tumbled to the ground, knocking over her glass of water in the process.

“Having some trouble there?”

The masculine voice floated through the air towards her, and Lyssa snapped her head in the direction of the sound. A tall, blond-headed fellow dressed in a loose blue T-shirt and jeans that hugged his lower body deliciously was leaning against the rails of the timber-and-wire fence.

Forgetting she was on the ground for a moment, Lyssa admired his solid physique and large muscular arms. The guy was gorgeous.

He stepped through the gate and made his way over to her and took her by the arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Lyssa replied. She allowed him to help her to her feet, feeling sheepish as she dusted off her cream shorts and offered him a small smile. “Thanks for that. I was trying to relax, but it seems the chair didn’t want to let me.”

“It is a terrible chair,” the man agreed. “You must be Lyssa. I’m Heath.”

“Oh, Margie’s son. Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Lyssa replied, shaking his hand.

“And you. I thought I’d pop around and see how you’re settling in.”

Lyssa glanced at Heath’s quad bike. How hadn’t she noticed him arrive? She spotted an open box tied to the back that was full of produce.

Heath followed her gaze. Making his way back to the bike, he unhooked the octopus straps and hefted the box into his arms. “I thought I might get you a housewarming present. It’ll save you the hour trip into the main shopping centre for now.”

“That’s so nice of you. Let me help you.” Lyssa opened the gate. He stepped back through, then she rushed ahead of him and opened the screen. They made their way into the kitchen where Heath set the box down on the small table, and Lyssa perused it. There were cuts of lamb, chicken, berries, stone fruit and apples, vegetables, sourdough bread, honey and butter, milk, eggs, and even some homemade cookies.

“Whoa! Is this all from the farm?” Lyssa lifted out a couple of large carrots.

“From a couple of neighbours, too. We all swap produce between each other. Saves us from having to go into town too often,” Heath replied. He looked at the roses in the vase on the table and cocked an eyebrow at Lyssa. “Raiding the garden, hey?”

Guilt crossed Lyssa’s face. “I hope that’s allowed.”

The dark expression on Heath’s face made Lyssa hold a nervous breath. Oh, no, had she done something wrong? Were they prized roses or something? Was Lyssa going to get kicked out because she plucked a couple of blooms from an award-winning plant?

Heath’s face slowly broke into a smile. “It’s no problem.”

Lyssa breathed a sigh of relief. So this one is a stirrer, hey? She could deal with that.

Heath wandered into the living room and glanced around. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been inside this house. Sadly, it hasn’t changed much. Sorry it’s so basic.”

Lyssa leaned against the doorjamb between the living room and kitchen and shrugged. “Never mind.”

“It looks like Mrs. Warner spent all her time in the garden and not much time taking care of the interior. If you need to spruce it up a bit, I’m sure Mum wouldn’t mind.”

“You know, I found this old drawing addressed to a Mrs. Warner. Who is she?” Lyssa indicated the old drawing.

Heath smiled as he moved closer to the fridge to look at it. “That’s my old drawing. Where did you find it?”

“It was sitting in a drawer in the armoire. It’s cute.”

“I did this when I was about seven. I was infatuated with her blue heeler. I can’t believe she kept it all these years.” When Heath turned back to Lyssa, his face was alight with nostalgia. “Mrs. Warner was the previous tenant. Her husband worked for us until he passed. They lived here for years and years—way before I was alive. She had to move away to live with one of her daughters in Sydney since she couldn’t live on her own any longer. But now she gets to live with her grandchildren, and I’ve heard she’s happy.”

Lyssa smiled. “It’s nice she has a good family.”

“Yeah, everything worked out in the end.” Heath stomped his foot and turned towards the front door. “Anyway, I need to go and get some jobs done. I’ll see you around.”

“All right. Thanks again,” Lyssa said, indicating the box of goodies.

“You’re welcome.”

Lyssa watched Heath step out of the house and wander down the path to the gate. A blush heated her cheeks and she pressed her palms against them to try to cool them down. Margie’s son was more than nice—he was drop-dead beautiful.

“Calm down, Lyssa. He’s your landlord, for goodness sake,” she grumbled to herself as she began to unpack the food.