The Start of Something New Read online

  The Start of Something New

  Stacey Nash

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  The Start of Something New

  Stacey Nash

  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.

  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.

  About the Author

  STACEY NASH writes adventure-filled stories for young adults in the science fiction and contemporary romance genres. She loves to read and write books that have a lot of adventure, a good dose of danger, a smattering of romance, and plenty of kissing! Her debut novel, Forget Me Not, was released as a three book series (The Collective) through HarperCollins Australia during 2014–2015. Hailing from the Hunter Valley in New South Wales, Stacey loves nothing more than immersing herself in the beauty and culture of the local area.

  Acknowledgements

  It takes a great deal of work to write a collaborative series—keen cooperation, constant communication, extreme organisation. To the Mindalby Maidens—you’re all amazing. This series came together so seamlessly thanks to the hard work of each and every author in the group. Together we believed in our tiny town and breathed life into her. SE Gilchrist, you are a rock star! It’s no secret that Mindalby was your brainchild and without your dedicated leadership this series never would have gotten off the ground. So many thank-yous for leading us all through hazy days of edits and rewrites! Sandie, map drawer extraordinaire—your belief in this series right from the start held us all together. Thank you for lending us your skills and patience every time a shop location or family farm changed location/size/name. We love you! To my three rocks of the writing world: Lauren, ST, and Anabel. Thank you for being there for all incarnations of this story—through teasing Jase, brooding Jase, and finally protective Jase. As always, you each helped shape my words in your own unique way. I’m forever grateful that we found each other a few years ago. The biggest thank-you of all goes to my mum who took a massive road trip through the heart of Australian cotton country with me, all the while listening to crazy story ideas about crisis counsellors and farm girls. Without that trip this story couldn’t have taken shape and without her knowledge of farm life and support services, research wouldn’t have been as fun. Thank you to my husband who is always on hand to soundboard ideas off and proofread my stories even though romance is far from his preferred genre. I couldn’t create wonderful words without you, my love. Maybe the next one will be sci-fi … Kate, editor extraordinaire, thank you for falling in love with Mindalby, honing our series into something better, and most of all being our advocate. And lastly, thank you to you, the reader. Whether you’re a loyal reader of my books, or if this is the first you’ve picked up, I am so grateful for your precious time. Without readers it would never be possible for books like the Mindalby Outback Romance series to be published!

  For Coralie

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

  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.