A Wedding At Windaroo. Barbara Hannay
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Piper released a weary sigh. Over the past fortnight they’d seen very little of Gabe, but he’d come into her grandfather’s conversations far too often. ‘You know jolly well that I’m trying to find a husband. Gabe would only get in the way.’
‘You reckon?’ he asked, looking crestfallen.
‘I’m sure of it.’
The old man dropped his gaze and shook his head slowly. Then his eyes sought hers again. ‘About this husband-hunt of yours…’
‘Yes?’
‘I know what’s driving you to do this, Piper, and I feel responsible, so I’d like to offer you a word of advice.’
Her heart gave a strange little jump. ‘What is it?’
‘You might think I’m just an old romantic fool,’ he said, ‘but no matter how eager you are to get yourself hitched, you should listen to your heart when you choose your husband, not your head.’
‘You are a romantic old fool,’ she told him. ‘But I love you and I’ll try to remember your advice.’
Leaning through the ute’s window, she blew him a kiss, then she accelerated down the drive. Tears threatened again as she watched him through her rear-vision mirror. He was standing at the foot of Windaroo’s steps, watching her with that dear smile of his, and the thought that one day he wouldn’t be there was unbearable.
She tried to cheer herself up by thinking of the exciting night ahead, and wondered why she didn’t feel more uplifted by the thought that Gabe wouldn’t be at the ball to see her all dolled up like this.
The Mullinjim Spring Ball was held in the Community Hall—a simple weatherboard building. Tonight its interior was decorated with potted palms, streamers, balloons and crêpe paper flowers. At one end of the hall a four-piece band was squeezed onto a tiny stage, and in the kitchen area, where the Country Women’s Association usually served tea and scones, the Social Committee had set up a makeshift bar.
In true outback style, the people of the surrounding districts overlooked the venue’s lack of sophistication and dressed as grandly as they would if they were attending the Sydney Opera House. The men wore stylish black dinner suits and the women were in long, formal gowns in a rainbow of pretty colours.
When Piper arrived she headed straight for the ringers and graziers she’d known all her life—the guys she’d always hung out with at parties until they found a girl they fancied. Tonight they were gathered around the bar.
It wasn’t till she was halfway across the hall that nerves struck. Suddenly the full impact of the task ahead hit her and almost sent her turning back and scampering off into the night. Oh, man! Tonight she had to tackle some serious flirting.
If only she’d watched more romance movies instead of cowboy flicks. Right now she would have felt more at ease sauntering into a western saloon full of mean-eyed baddies in black cowboy hats than facing this innocuous collection of cattlemen in dinner suits.
They might be husband material, but they were still blissfully unaware of their possible fate, and somehow she had to convince them to start thinking of her—tomboy Piper O’Malley—as a potential wife!
Yikes! Her knees were going on her. Get over this and start flirting! What was it Gabe had told her? Flirting and flattery go hand in hand.
OK.
Her palms were very damp as she ran them down her silk-covered thighs and she hoped they didn’t leave a snail trail. It’s like swimming in a freezing cold creek. You’ve just got to dive in.
Go!
Taking a deep breath, she flashed a bright smile and stepped closer to the bar. ‘Hi, dudes,’ she said. ‘You’re all looking very swish.’
Several heads turned her way.
Turned casually and then jerked to attention.
Mouths fell open. Eyes popped.
Jock Fleming from Jupiter Downs spilled his beer.
‘Blow me down,’ Steve Flaxton said at last. ‘Is it Piper?’
‘Of course it’s me!’ Panic exploded like a shotgun blast in her chest. ‘What’s the matter? What are you staring at?’
What had she done wrong? Left a zip undone? Was an eyelash dangling? Surely she hadn’t popped out of the top of her dress?
‘Is it my hair?’ she cried, her eyes frantically searching for a mirror. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
Jonno Rivers, Gabe’s brother, found his tongue first. ‘Sorry, Piper. It’s just we’ve never seen you looking like this.’
‘So?’ she cried. They were still staring at her as if they’d been frozen in shock mode. But her initial panic gave way to a flash of relief, quickly followed by anger. Fury. Disappointment! Surely these guys could do better than to stand there and gape like stupefied dolts?
Where were their admiring smiles? Their gallant gestures? One of these fools was supposed to sweep her off her feet and become her romantic soul mate.
Couldn’t one of them, at the very least, offer to get her a drink?
‘What’s wrong with you mob? Don’t you know how to treat a woman?’
Behind her, the band struck up a lively number and people began to move onto the dance floor. Jock, Steve, Jonno and the others looked nervously at one another. To her right, she heard some oaf mutter, ‘Since when has Piper had tits? Where’s she been hiding them?’
She whirled towards the voice. But before she could find words to make the toad squirm, she was aware of gazes shifting past her to the hall’s entrance, and she turned to see a tall, dark and commanding figure.
Gabe.
Oh, help.
He was standing in the doorway on the far side of the hall and she had the distinct impression he’d been watching them. Oh, Lord! Her insides seemed to collapse. Nosy Gabe!
He was the last person she wanted to witness this humiliation. He wasn’t supposed to be here! How could she relax enough to flirt successfully while her tutor watched from the sidelines?
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