August on the farm

Hi friends,

This week we’re hosting Montessori preschools on the farm. I teach farm classes about chickens, sheep, and trees. Yesterday we washed sheep fleece and today we carded wool. It’s super busy when the farm transforms into a summer camp ten hours a day, but afterwards the farm feels quiet and we miss it.

The flowers have reached peak bloom! We’ve been watering them every day, due to the lack of rain.

This Sunday morning we’re hosting Books and Blooms, a silent reading party and used book swap organized by local pop-up bookstore Good & Golden Books. (They are great!) It sold out fast, but we are doing another one in September.

*Note: There have been a few last-minute cancellations, so if you want to come, contact Meg at Good & Golden Books. If it rains, there will be a rain date.

Editing book two is taking longer than I expected! I had expected to finish the final rewrite by August 21st, but that is not happening since this is the busiest time on the farm, so it is good that I have a little buffer before it absolutely needs to be finalized at the end of September.

Thank you to all my wonderful beta readers and sensitivity readers! I appreciate you all so much. Your feedback was so helpful in figuring out how to improve the plot in the final rewrite.

QUEENSLAND MADONNA comes out November 21st.

Shout out to local author Maddie Day (aka Edith Maxwell) for this five-star review of QUEENSLANDER:

Garden's story is a deeply drawn and compelling tale of love, trauma, and strength set in rural Australia. Non-Aussie readers will sink into the world of down-under and root for protagonist Ronnie's reunion with her lost daughter even as they tread the fragile ground of Ronnie and Nev's relationship. Queenslander is a must-read debut novel.

Also shout out to local author Claudette Sabbag for this five-star review:

Laura Garden's debut novel, Queenslander, is a multifaceted exploration of relationships and emotions. The unique storyline follows an eclectic cast of diverse characters as they struggle to find their best selves amid the beauty of Queensland, Australia. The author's descriptions of the richness and abundance of this land make the reader long for a trip Down Under.

Ronnie felt strange driving in the suit she had sweated through during Rainbow’s family court hearing last year. It was Monday morning and she was on her way to the high school in Atherton to apply for the coaching job. Nev hadn’t texted her yesterday, which wasn’t unusual. She called Nev.

“Oi.” Nev’s voice was brusque, but that wasn’t unusual either.

“How ya goin’?” Ronnie carefully kept her tone light.

“How’s Mattie?”

“He’ll be fine.” It was always a shock when he got hurt, especially upsetting for Rainbow. “Tore his ACL. He’s getting the princess treatment at the hospital in Auckland. They operated on him Saturday.” Nine months of rehab and he would be back in the game.

“Glad it’s nothing serious.”

She knew Nev was joking. Her brother would miss rugby season, and the hundred-thousand-dollar bonus if the All Blacks won the World Cup Final again.

Nev’s voice dropped a few notes. “Glad they could squeeze him in.”

Ronnie signaled right and looked both ways before turning, trying to guess whether Nev was drunk, upset, both, or neither.

“You right, babe?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re quieter than usual, and you left kind of sudden. You didn’t say goodbye.”

Nev hesitated. “Irish exit. I was tired.” That was the extent of the apology.

Eventually Ronnie said something to fill the silence. “I think I’m nervous about my interview. Wish me luck.”

“Right, today’s Monday. Good luck.”

Her heart fell. She had been hoping for a cheeky ‘Dain’y’ at least. Nev was pushing her away and probably didn’t even know she was doing it.

“Thanks.” She slid into an open spot next to the back entrance to the school, across from the athletic fields. She turned off the engine and wondered for the first time whether she should have brought a copy of her application or a list of questions. Too late now. She shifted the phone into her left hand to juggle the keys and her travel mug of coffee in the other.

“I had fun at the club.” Memories of that night had been making her smile since she woke up in Nev’s bed the following morning. “You were so sweet after.”

Nev made a loud crinkling noise, like shaking a plastic grain bag. “Sorry. What was that?”

Ronnie sighed. “You run hot and cold on me, you know that?”

Nev grunted. “Not trying to.” Through the phone Ronnie heard sheep bleating. “Trying to be more spontaneous.” Nev must be feeding the ewes. The ‘100% grass-fed’ lambs weren’t supposed to eat grain.

Ronnie waited a minute hoping Nev would elaborate, then got out of the ute and shut the door. “Please tell me you’re not feeding the lambs grain to fatten them up.”

Nev continued making plastic crinkling noises. “The school would be lucky to have you. Anyone would. Put me down as a reference.”

Ronnie’s eyes stung and she blinked. A wave of warmth tingled from her sternum up through her ears. She could do this. It was only a job interview. Tongue suddenly wet, she swallowed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her forehead. She took deep, slow breaths until the sick feeling passed.

She hadn’t interviewed for a job before—her dad had arranged the position at Upsend Downs for her when she was eighteen, and the primary school had asked her to substitute for the assistant coach on a volunteer basis later that year. After that, she had coasted for a decade. She had refused every promotion Nev had tried to give her. That online course she failed had been a total disaster. If she got this promotion, it would be her first upward career step in a decade, and the first she made on her own.

She wasn’t sure she wanted it and was fairly certain she didn’t deserve it.

“You can do this,” Nev said. “You are qualified. You are the best soccer coach in the district and your girls love you.”

Ronnie chuckled faintly, catching the eye of her reflection in the glass. A grown-ass adult looked back at her, handsome. With her uppercut tied back neater than usual, combed for once, Nev’s tie, and that crisp collar Nev had ironed, she looked like someone you would fall in love with at a football match in Barcelona or Rome, have a one-night stand with, and then never hear from again. She looked like Mattie—relaxed, confident, used to getting her way. She didn’t look like she was shitting bricks.

“What do you need?” Nev asked.

“Nothing,” Ronnie said, checking her teeth for food. “I’m good.”

Being back in her old school made her feel like a student again. She knocked softly on the doorframe of the athletic director’s meeting room. A tall blonde woman looked up from the table. “Come in. Gosh, you’re tall.” The three other women at the conference table stood.

Ronnie shook hands, relieved to see that Coach D. wasn’t there. It would be rude to ask if he was coming. As she unbuttoned her jacket and took the empty squeaky office chair, she steeled herself not to react if he walked through the door. This was definitely hostile territory.

The women at the table introduced themselves as the athletic director, superintendent of schools and the secondary school principal—an excessive show of titles for a coach interview.

Something was up.

The principal complimented Ronnie’s designer jacket. Ronnie resisted the urge to explain that Mattie had bought it for her.

The interviewers asked her easy questions about her educational philosophy and team culture, agreeing animatedly with her answers.

Ronnie frowned. “You must have more qualified candidates…”

The athletic director shook her head. “We’re moving away from a traditional approach this year, toward something more organic and responsive to the students’ needs. The team is going through a development stage. Some of the girls expressed a desire to foster a more inclusive and diverse team culture with the new coach. They want someone who will be more responsive to their feedback and develop leadership potential within them. We’re looking for someone with a light touch.”

Ronnie blinked. She looked down at her hands clasped on the table in front of her, hands that dwarfed the travel mug she had forgotten to leave in the ute. “You think I have a light touch?”

“On the questionnaire about leadership style and communication, your answers were consistent with what we’re looking for in a new head coach. We’ve seen how you coach the primary school teams, how much enthusiasm you have for girls’ empowerment. Ten years demonstrates commitment. We think you have the skills to move up to coaching teenagers. This is a position where you could develop those skills.”

“Far out, that’s nice of you. I wouldn’t coach teens the same way I do my itty bitty girls.”

“How would your coaching style change?”

Ronnie was at a loss. “I dunno, mate.” Her armpits were sweating and she could smell herself, which was always a bad sign. She should have worn deodorant. “I would figure that out if I got the job.”

For some reason these ladies at the high school were playing soft ball with her. They wanted her more than she wanted them. Maybe they were cutting the salary and thought she would work for peanuts.

“Am I the only applicant?”

“If we offer you the position, are there any accommodations you would need?”

She shook her head.

“Would you have conditions? Anything extra you’d like typed into the contract?”

She had thought about that last night as she lay in bed unable to sleep. “I’d like the right to choose my own assistant coach, and the right to call off practice or games the night before if the forecast is dangerously hot.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

She mustered the courage to ask for something else. “And I want more money than coach D. got.”

The blonde women looked away, smiling uncomfortably. The athletic director stood and held out her hand in polite dismissal. “No worries. We’ll be in touch.”

How many other girls’ lives had he ruined? She couldn’t have been the only one. A reckoning was coming. If it was her, there would be poetic justice in that.

At ten o’clock the following morning her phone rang while she was out mending fences. It was the Superintendent. “Ronnie! We’d like to offer you the position! The board approved all of your conditions.”

She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of a leather work glove, turned and began walking uphill to where the reception was better. “Oh, far out, cheers.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t thought this through. She would miss her primary school girls, her Wattles.

“Wonderful! Welcome aboard. This is an unusual ask, but another candidate is here. We just interviewed her. If you can get over here in the next half hour you can interview her for the assistant coach position. I know you want to pick your own assistant.”

Quick turnaround. “No worries. I can be there in half an hour.” It would be tight; she might be late after she put Dreadnought away.

As usual, the only people in Ronnie’s barn were a few boarders taking care of their horses, since Mikey worked at the autobody shop and Jesse was in daycare.

She hadn’t had time to change, so she made her first appearance as high school coach in a white T-shirt, dirty dungarees tucked into cowboy boots, smelling like a horse. She recognized the woman sitting in the athletic director’s conference room.

Ronnie extended her hand. “Mikey, right?” She grinned, leaning in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

Mikey was wearing a blazer over a black rugby shirt, stood up and gave her their usual bro hug and pat on the back. “Applying for a job.”

“No way! What job?”

“Assistant soccer coach.”

Assistant coach at a rural secondary school was hardly the dream job of champions, but for a friend from juvie, it made sense.

“No way! I got the head coach job!”

“I heard the phone call. Congrats!”

Ronnie sat down, gesturing to the other chair. “You were the runner up? I didn’t know you wanted to coach soccer.”

Mikey chuckled, looked comfortable, but that could be a front, Ronnie knew from experience. Ronnie pulled out a chair and sat, knees splayed, suddenly self-conscious of being under-dressed.

“I was looking at jobs. I saw this and thought, why not? Can’t beat the commute.”

“No, you can’t.”

Ronnie’s palms started to sweat. She rubbed them on her jeans, then regretted it because her jeans were coated with sawdust. Her new boss was nearby, might be watching, so she had to pretend to be a professional person.

Mikey cleaned up well. She had white teeth, short nails, black pants, Chelsea boots. Had never had trouble finding partners. She was bi, like Ronnie. They had hooked up a few times in juvie when they were seventeen, in a casual way, but nothing since then, and she realized she didn’t know if Mikey had ever had feelings for her.

Mikey raised an eyebrow, had caught Ronnie looking.

Ronnie tried not to make assumptions. As a person who was often misjudged, she tried not to do it to others. “I didn’t have time to prepare questions, and honestly, I wouldn’t have anyway. Why do you think you’re the best candidate for the position?”

“Do we have to do this?”

“Shush, so I don’t get fired. Ever worked with kids?”

“Sport camp counselor.”

“Cool. I didn’t know that. Rugby camp?”

“Soccer.”

“Even better. Played in school?”

Mikey nodded. “In secondary and a club team after.”

“No way. I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.”

Ouch. Now Ronnie felt like an arrogant sonofabitch. “The pay is shit. Interested?”

“Very.” Mikey smiled with her eyes. Ronnie swallowed and looked down at her clipboard. Chemistry was a tricky thing. Nice, ego-boosting, but sticky. Mikey’s gaze held Ronnie’s as the principal walked past the doorway on her way out. Ronnie broke first.

Right. Terrible timing.

Ronnie tossed the clipboard on the table and leaned back in her chair. “Um, right, okay. You know I’m sleeping with Nev.”

“That could change,” Mikey teased. “If it does, you know where to find me.”

Ronnie shrugged. She couldn’t argue with that. “That’s fair.”

Mikey grinned. Ronnie couldn’t tell if her friend had been joking or not. Mikey was probably just trying to get a rise out of her. Ronnie nudged her foot under the table. “Want to go kick a ball around?”

Mikey’s face lit up and she rose. “Bring it on.”

Ronnie tucked a soccer ball under her arm and held the door. She wondered how Mikey thought it would work if the two of them fooled around. Assumptions about what she did in bed were always wrong. Nev was the only one who had ever treated her the way she liked.

She led her friend out back to the soccer pitch where she used to play when she was a student here, which was nostalgic. Mikey hadn’t grown up on the Tablelands; she came from Townsville on the coast. They kicked a ball around, slowly at first, then faster. Mikey was good. She could be quick when she wanted to be. Selfishly Ronnie hoped her friend didn’t join her AFL club team in Edmonton.

Ronnie missed a running pass, jogged over to the sideline to retrieve the ball, then kicked it back. It had been around a year since someone flirted with her, longer than that since it made her feel good. “You’re not bad.”

“Have I got the job yet?”

Ronnie nodded, kicked the ball long.

Grinning, Mikey chased it down the field and punted it into the top inside corner of the net with an audible swish, both pointer fingers flying into the air to say number one. “Bow Down!”

In a better mood than she had been in all day, Ronnie fell to her knees and bent down, touching the grass. Her new assistant coach played “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (a Man After Midnight)” on her phone while reenacting fully clothed the striptease Ronnie had done on stage at the club.

Ronnie turned and walked to her ute. Had she been a punk like that? No, she had been classier—she almost got shot at her first job interview.

Ronnie didn’t have swagger anymore. What she had was something else.

Cowgirls Only... Bloody hell...

“Wait up!” Mikey called.

Chip shop in Atherton, fish and chips, greasy paper. They ate at the benches in the public park on the hill overlooking Lake Tinaroo.

“I can’t believe they let you work with kids.”

Ronnie nudged Mikey’s leather dress shoe with the toe of her work boot. “Shut up.”

Passers-by stared at them together, maybe due to the unconventional combination of tattoos, hair, muscles, or the fact that they were blaring heavy metal music from Ron’s ute.

“Mattie looks like he’s doing better,” Mikey said. “I see his pictures.”

Ronnie grunted, finished chewing a bite of fried Barramundi, then washed it down with fanta. “Do you ever think about Jordan?” Their friend from juvie who died of a drug overdose.

“Sometimes. Why?” Mikey dropped her fish and chips on the grass.

Ronnie helped her pick it up. “No reason.”

“Your mum still a prepper?”

Ronnie shrugged. “I dunno.” Around Mikey she felt free to revert to some of her old ways—not the illegal ones—but she didn’t have to mirror middle class social cues to fit in, which was a relief; she didn’t have to think about whether what she said or how she said it made her come across as a bogan who could fit all her belongings in the back of a standard-sized Hilux.

Mikey picked grass out of her fish, looked around to make sure no one was nearby, then dropped her voice. “Does Nev know you tried to kill your last girlfriend?”

Ronnie chuckled. “Please… Nev knows everything.” She couldn’t blame Mikey for being curious; she would have wondered the same thing.

“I heard about the knife incident at the pub…”

“From who?”

“One of my coworkers.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“You still talk to someone?”

Ronnie nodded. “I have a therapist.”

“She’s not very good,” Mikey joked.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. She knew Mikey got it.

“You were a scary dude in juvie.”

Ronnie crumpled her greasy chip wrapper. “Me?”

“Everyone was scared of you.”

“Not you, though.”

Mikey nodded.

Ronnie found this hard to believe. “We were all pretending to be tough. Juvie’s kid stuff. The real scary dudes are the ones that don’t get caught.” That was the truth. If Nev ever committed a crime, she wouldn’t get caught.

Ronnie tossed her greasy chip wrapper in a bin. “I’m supposed to be at work at Upsend. I gotta run.”