The Start Of Something New (A Mindalby Outback Romance, #5)

By Stacey Nash

When crisis counsellor Morgan Harris returns to his home town of Mindalby after the town's cotton mill closes, he has a hard time breaking through the townsfolk's tough exterior and getting them to accept the help that he is offering. Mental health services are few and far between out in the bush, and Morgan has to fight ingrained prejudices before he will really be able to engage with the people who need him the most.

However, he has no problems engaging with Hannah Burton, the younger sister of his high school best friend. Their attraction is instant and insistent, and very inconvenient. Morgan is here to work, and Hannah is fighting battles of her own – trying to save the family farm from going under in the face of the mill's closure.

Mindalby, a small town, a community, a home. But when the mill that supports the local cotton farmers and employs many of the town's residents closes unexpectedly, old tensions are exposed and new rifts develop. Everyone is affected and some react better than others, but one thing is certain: living on the edge of the outback means they have to survive together, or let their town die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781489263643

Stacey Nash

Stacey Nash is a writer, mother, wife, but not always in that order. Stacey went to the University of New England to study history where she fell in love and married her college sweetheart. Now, they live in the gorgeous Hunter Valley, Australia. Stacey has a passion for writing stories set in speculative worlds, from science fiction to fantasy and anything in between. She also loves to blog is a co-founder and a contributor at Aussie Owned and Read, a blog designed for readers and writers of young adult and new adult fiction, as well as World of YA, a blog designed for lovers of young adult fiction.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Morgan Harris placed his steaming mug on the laminate desk and dropped into his swivel chair. As he looked out the window he didn’t focus on the bricks or balcony of the next building over—he merely stared, unfocused, as he thought about the client he’d just seen, and crunched on a chocolatey Tim Tam.

Flicking the mouse to wake up his computer, he opened Banish Blue’s clientele program. The poor woman he’d just counselled had had a hard life, but then most of his clients were the same. Drugs. Alcohol. Abusive relationships. He’d seen a lot in his year and a half since graduation, but the frequency didn’t diminish his empathy.

His fingers played over the hot coffee cup, which he raised to his mouth then took a sip from. Holy crap. A burned tongue stung. Happened every time—he was too damned impatient when it came to his morning caffeine. He set his fingers to the keyboard as the computer dinged, the mail icon flaring in the bottom corner of the screen with each new message.

Junk.

Ava.

Ethan. His mate would be big-noting about the blonde he’d nailed the night before, no doubt.

Morgan focused on this morning’s client report, while the mail kept flooding in. She had been an emergency appointment, not yet on his books, so he’d squeezed her in before the work day officially started.

Interoffice memo.

Making room for those who needed help was imperative. Distressed people were a risk to themselves and to others. The wait could tip them over.

Back up. That memo was marked urgent.

Morgan clicked over from the report to his emails, found the urgent memo and opened it to find a message from Trinity, the head of his department. He took another sip of his too-hot coffee—who cared when your tongue was already scalded—then carried it with him as he trekked past his colleagues’ cubicles and towards the glassed-in office at the far side of the small building. He wrapped the back of his knuckles against the glass. Trinity glanced up from her screen. Banish Blue’s project manager pressed her lips together then beckoned him to enter. She might be ten years his senior, but the woman still knew how to dress. Not like some of the other counsellors he worked with—it was as if those women tried to downplay their looks to put clients at ease.

He pushed through the door.

Trinity eyeballed his coffee mug. ‘Morgan.’

‘You want one?’ He took another sip.

She offered up a tight smile. ‘We’d better see to the matter at hand first. Take a seat.’

Morgan lowered himself into the armchair on the opposite side of her desk.

Trinity smiled and pushed her glasses back into place. ‘Robinsons Administrators phoned in a request. They need someone quickly. Suki has kids, Kirsten’s about to go on leave, and well … you said you grew up out west somewhere, so you’d be a good fit.’

He nodded.

‘I can’t recall the name of the town. Men … Medi …’ She scratched her nose. ‘Mindare—’

‘Mindalby?’ Morgan hedged. Surely it couldn’t be, not a town that tiny. It would be too much of a coincidence.

‘That’s the one!’ Trinity clicked her fingers. ‘There’s a cotton factory out there that employs half the population. The other half relies on the money it injects into the town’s economy.’

Morgan’s shoulders tensed. It’d been a long time since he’d seen the town’s red dust in his rear-view mirror as he drove away.

‘I know the place. Finished off high school there.’

‘Even better.’ Trinity tapped long fingernails against her desk. ‘Once word of the insolvency hits the streets those people will need help to deal with the fallout.’

‘Mass unemployment,’ he mumbled. ‘Leads to all kinds of trouble.’

Trinity nodded. ‘I’ve arranged accommodation for you, starting tomorrow night. A few weeks to begin with. Felicity informed the employees late yesterday, so we need to have you onsite as quickly as possible.’ She raised a questioning brow.

‘I’m on it.’

Trinity picked up a pen and scrawled as she spoke. ‘I’ll have all of your clients for tomorrow onward rescheduled or transferred to someone else. Are you right to fly out first thing in the morning?’

‘Ah …’ Morgan stumbled. ‘Transferring may not be the best option for some. How about offering phone consults?’

She jotted furiously. ‘If you’re fine with that?’

‘Of course. And Trinity …’

She stopped writing to look up.

‘Is there a car in the deal?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Trinity tapped red nails against the desk again. ‘The budget’s quite tight.’

‘I’ll drive then. Many of those affected will live out of town.’

She gave a single nod, curt and sharp, sealing their deal.

***

The lights of Mindalby shone in the distance. Morgan pushed his cramped toes against the floor, while his other foot rested on the accelerator. When he’d lived there the people had been great. Warm, friendly—they’d welcomed him into their circle—unlike at some of the other schools he’d gone to. He smiled as the car whizzed past familiar properties, their names emblazoned on their gates. The huge wooden fence pales of one in particular slowed him as he drove past. He’d once hung at Burton Park every weekend. Back when all three of the Burton kids had been tight and Jase was his best mate. They’d been good times.

It didn’t take long to reach town, which was damn lucky because his arse ached from too many hours behind the wheel. Morgan passed the dark park, rubbing tired eyes to ward off the bright bowling club lights to his right. Within two blocks, he reached the Great Western Motel. Luckily, Trinity had booked the nicer of the two joints in town. By the look of its immaculate garden and shining windows, the place still held its number one spot.

He cut the engine and stepped out of his bug-splattered car. Thankfully, the reception sign was still flipped to open despite the late hour. There hadn’t been phone coverage to call ahead and warn them he was running late. If his memory served him right, everything around here but the pub closed at dusk.

A doorbell jangled as he pushed through the front door and the woman behind the counter glanced up from her newspaper. ‘Mr Harris?’

‘That’s me.’ Morgan stifled a yawn.

‘How was your trip?’

‘Long.’

She frowned. ‘You flew in from Newcastle, yes?’

‘I drove.’

‘Ah …’ The receptionist nodded. ‘That makes more sense. How long did it take you?’

‘Eleven hours or so. Wasn’t too bad at all.’

She nodded, glanced at the computer screen to her left, clicked the mouse a few times, then shoved a sheet of paper on the counter in front of him. ‘If you can check the details and sign on the line, we’ll get you to a bed.’

‘Great.’ Morgan scrawled his name across the check-in slip.

Within a few minutes he was on his way to the farthest room from the main road. A few minutes more and a hot shower washed away the staleness of travel.

Morgan collapsed into the queen-sized bed and settled into the hard mattress, enjoying the crisp clean sheets against his bare flesh. His body craved sleep, but his mind was in overdrive thinking about his abandoned clients. Racing out to Mindalby was right. The townspeople were unlike the city peeps he now dealt with. They might gossip, but they still accepted one another, faults and all. They were kind, honest country folk, who deserved better than they’d just been dealt. He had a few hard weeks ahead, what with juggling phone calls from home and seeing to the people of Mindalby. All he could do was pray no ghosts from the past got in the way of his work.

Chapter 2

Hannah Burton’s eyes shot open. Her heart beat up a storm. She gasped in the morning air. No party played out in the distance, no sweaty body pressed against her; she was alone but, holy gif, a moment ago it felt as though she hadn’t been. She pushed sweat-dampened hair away from her face, took another deep breath in and let it out in a long sigh, then swung her legs over the side of the double bed and sat up.

Shuffling into her sheepskin slippers, Hannah tossed a dressing gown around her shoulders. It might only just be winter, but the mornings were already chilly. It wouldn’t be long before frosts iced up the ground. That meant they should already be moving towards ploughing the riverside paddocks, not sitting around the breakfast table wondering what next.

‘The bastard’s had twelve of our modules locked inside that complex for days now. I’m not just gonna cop that on the chin.’ Her brother Jase’s voice floated out into the hall. He must have already made the trek over from his little house by the river. ‘The closure’s caused problems for Coop too. All his tools …’

Yawning, Hannah rubbed sleep-bleary eyes as she stepped into the kitchen, where her grandfather, Pop, and Jase had gathered. Even her mother, Kate, was there, pottering around in the pantry. It seemed that her twin, Cooper, was the only family member missing. Coffee bubbled away in the percolator, but she bypassed the horrid-tasting gunk in favour of a steaming cast-iron kettle sitting upon the antique stove.

‘Well, what’s the hold-up? When’s the gin going to reopen?’ Abe Burton had never been a patient man.

‘I already told you, Pop. Nobody knows for certain. It could be months away,’ Jase complained.

Hannah’s grandfather frowned at them both before turning his beady eyes on his daughter-in-law, who seemed to be staying well out of this conversation.

‘With any luck the administrator will release our stock,’ said Hannah. Her steady stare shifted from Pop, the patriarch of the family, to Jase. Her brother was sure to think rationally—he had a head for business and a strong sense of respect for the land.

‘He’s got no right to hold what ain’t his.’ The old man pushed his chair back and stood.

Ever persistent, Jase argued, ‘What if they hold it indefinitely? We need that crop processed this week to fill Ardmax’s order. We should pull the bloody lot from the mill and take our business somewhere else—’

‘Won’t do.’ Pop clanged his coffee mug onto the timber counter. Then, grimacing, he pressed the heel of his palm against his chest. ‘Mindalby Cotton Company’s been operating here since 1967. It’ll open its doors soon.’

Hannah shook her head; sometimes the old man was so darn stubborn. ‘There’s no point sticking our heads in the sand, Pop. Truth is there’s at least another twenty properties relying on Mindalby’s mill. That’s a lot of cotton that needs processing and a heck of a lot of missed deadlines.’

‘Whatcha saying, sweetheart?’ Kate looked up from her pottering, finally joining the conversation.

‘I’m saying we need to keep ahead of the crowd. Get the rest of our crop out of here and sorted as fast as we can.’

‘That ain’t very community-minded of you.’ Pop’s teaspoon clinked against his mug as he stirred in way too much sugar.

‘It’s good business sense. There’ll be one hell of a backlog over at Bourke with everyone shipping their crops that way … Just saying.’

They all fell silent then, with the only noises in the room the scrape of knife against plate. With any luck, the men would stew over Hannah’s words. After finishing off her cup of tea, she retrieved her phone from its charging station by the full fruit bowl, grabbed an apple and moved towards the living room.

‘Don’t forget the paper,’ Pop called.

‘And my parcel,’ Kate added.

‘Ram’s due to be put in with the ewes,’ said Jase. ‘We need more marking dye.’

Hannah retreated to her room before the list got any longer. A scan of her mobile showed a notification from Facebook, so she clicked the app open and spotted a private message from Elsie Sumner.

Hannah’s stomach churned. She knew precisely what the other woman wanted. Her thumb hovered over the little profile photo as she contemplated saying yes. In the end, Hannah clenched her back teeth and stabbed the screen to open the message.

Hannah, honey, you haven’t accepted the invite to our girls’ night. Make sure you RSVP on the group invite page so we can count you in the numbers.

Hannah started typing: Hi, Elsie. She stopped and thought for a few minutes. Thanks for the invite. It looks like a fun night. I’ll try and make it.

Then she deleted everything and started over: As much as I’d love to catch up with everyone, I just can’t manage time away from the farm.

Three little dots appeared under her message and Hannah’s throat caught.

She exited out of the stupid app and threw on her Levis, a nice-ish cream blouse that had seen better days, and her work boots. The chilly air pimpled her skin, so she shrugged on a jacket as well. She had to duck into town and run a few errands before checking on the livestock. Maybe while she was there she’d call in on Cooper, see how he was faring with all the tension around Mindalby.

After pulling a rake-comb through her tangled hair and securing the curly mane into a ponytail, she slipped her phone into her back pocket, and grabbed her keys and purse.

Her white Triton gleamed in the morning sun. Careful not to brush up against the red dust clinging to its sides, Hannah stepped up into the ute.

The ten-minute trip from the old homestead to the main road didn’t drag. Today, Hannah’s mind flitted from one scenario to the next as she tried to find a solution to this cotton problem. She turned onto Louth Road and followed the narrow highway all the way into town. It had never felt narrow until recently, when she’d returned to Mindalby after three years at uni. Now the tiny town where she grew up had a different vibe to it … or maybe she was the one who was different after living in the city. If ‘city’ was what you’d call Wagga Wagga.

The town seemed quieter than usual as she drove through the main street, as if there were a funeral or wedding. Funny, she hadn’t heard of anyone dying and no one got married at nine am, even if it was a Saturday. She pulled up out front of the newsagent and ducked inside. Before she could reach the back counter that doubled as a courier drop-off zone, Hannah froze. Because there on the front page of the Mindalby Chronicle was none other than Cooper. Her twin’s grim expression sat under the headline: Burton calls for action on mill.

She scanned the article and gathered the gist real quick. Cooper was outside the front gates of the gin protesting, and that wasn’t all. He was calling the townspeople to action. Community action.

Well, crap. Pop seeing him using the family name to incite the townsfolk into a lynch mob would cause his old heart to flip. Or fail completely. Cooper needed sorting out.

Chapter 3

Hannah threw her mother’s parcel onto the passenger seat and clicked her seatbelt into place. As the younger, more sensible twin, she was forever cleaning up her brother’s messes and it looked like this one was a doozy. Pulling away from the kerb, she drove right to where she knew he’d be. Some people might call it twin’s intuition but Hannah had realised long ago that was just a way of saying she knew her brother better than anyone else in this world. So of course she knew precisely what he’d be doing.

Hannah pulled into the driveway of Mindalby Cotton Company, where a crowd had gathered along the high fence. The majority were clumped together near the closed gates. At least thirty, possibly fifty, people stood around, some holding placards that she didn’t take the time to read. Hannah was on a mission. She swung the dirty ute into a free space and jumped down out of the driver’s seat. Halfway across the lot she spun around, clicking the remote to lock her car. Some days her memory was worse than old Edna’s, and she had dementia.

Within half a second she’d spotted her dark-haired brother, and it wasn’t because he stood taller than most people—it was because his voice boomed above the din.

‘Keep it up, people. We need to be heard.’

‘We deserve pay!’ The chant rang through the morning air. ‘Together we stand. United we fight.’

Then back to the first line.

Reaching the rear end of the crowd, Hannah squeezed past a middle-aged man. The tomato stake his placard was nailed to clipped her shoulder, and Hannah glanced up at the white cardboard that simply read This is shit.

What an imagination that bloke had. The next sign was a little better: MCC: Our children are hungry.

Only a few days after what should have been payday and already the townspeople were hurting. Concern tugged at her heart. What would happen to all these employees if the place didn’t reopen? This factory was the lifeblood of the town. Without the money it pumped into the area, Mindalby would be home to struggling farms and nothing else.

A few more steps into the throng her jacket sleeve was snagged by cold fingers. Hannah glanced over her shoulder.

‘Hey.’ Wearing a shirt embroidered with the Mindalby Cotton logo, Elsie Sumner frowned. ‘I hope you don’t have a ton of cotton held up inside. It’s a pretty crappy thing that’s happening here.’ She tipped her chin towards the padlocked gates. Poor thing, Hannah thought. She’d been working at the factory for a few years now.

Hannah pursed her lips. ‘We have a bit. Jase is trying to get it out.’

‘Oh.’

The chanting petered off, yet the crowd still thrummed with angry voices. Hannah let her attention wander back to her destination, even as she said, ‘This must be really hard for you.’

Elsie nodded, her worried frown inverting. ‘Are you excited about the girls’ night? It’s been so long since we pulled the old crowd together, and now that you and Gemma are both back in town—’ Elsie’s grin widened, ‘—we have to all catch up.’

Elsie snapped her fingers, summoning Hannah’s attention. ‘So you’re coming?’

Hannah scanned the crowd before bringing her gaze to the girl she’d once sat with in the school playground. She dragged in a breath. ‘There’s a lot going down at the farm right now. I don’t know …’

‘Oh.’ Elsie’s smile fell.

Hannah glanced away again, looking for her brother who seemed to have disappeared. The girls wouldn’t miss her, so she didn’t know what all the fuss was about. She hadn’t really fit in anyway, not after that one party.

‘AND AGAIN!’ Cooper’s shout rose above the crowd. The chant resumed. Hannah looked towards the gates and there he was, head and shoulders above everyone else, hands cupped around his mouth.

She said a hurried goodbye to Elsie and made a beeline for her brother,