by Kim Petersen
‘He’s not so easy to shake, Ace,’ Glen said gravely. ‘I’ve known him only too well. My success in banishing him came from your sister’s grace. She can help you too.’
Ace shrugged with a laugh. ‘You don’t need to worry. I’ve got this,’ he said. He gestured to the yard and a lopsided grin emerged on his lips. ‘A weed is a plant that has mastered the skill of survival; and I have too.’
His father stared into him and it took all his strength not to squirm under his penetrating gaze. Geez, I wish he’d let up, he thought. He concealed his annoyance while he pried himself from his father’s arm and ventured down the stairs and began yanking out as many weeds as he could. ‘Damn weeds,’ he muttered.
‘Ace!’ Glen boomed.
Ace paused and squinted back at his father.
Glen rose and looked down at him. ‘My father was not the kind of man I could ever turn to …’ his voice trailed and he shook his head. He glanced up at the yard, his jaw squared. ‘Watch yourself with the redhead,’ he warned, then turned and disappeared through the back door.
Ace sighed with relief. He could barely endure the burden that entangled his father, and he was glad the scene was over. He turned his attention back to the weeds. Seldom had he heard his father speak of his own parents; the only thing he had ever really known about them was that they had lived in this house. This damned house! He brooded inwardly as his hands fought against the dense undergrowth with growing speed. Sharp branches and thorns scraped his knuckles and dug through his flesh, yet he was oblivious to the pain as his blood dripped and mixed with the earth. His chest tightened and his breath came fast as he fell to his knees panting. He clutched fistfuls of earth between his fingers while he attempted to tame the painful twist as it seeped into his awareness. His gaze turned slowly towards the giant avocado tree that stood fearless and noble at the side of the yard just as it always had. He was sure it was taunting him with its thick spidery branches and flourishing trunk. This tree held family secrets and had kept them safe for the longest time. He sneered at it. Damned tree. He rose to his feet and growled under his breath as he charged at the tree, swinging his arms through the air and repeatedly smashing balled fists into the solid trunk.
He paused and gazed up at the centre of the tree. Glittering streaks of winter sunlight bounced and frolicked over the lush leaves, giving the tree an animated sense of character. He was certain the tree was mocking him now. He grunted and whacked his shin against the trunk, slogging into it with his leg. Pieces of bark flaked off the tree, exposing sections of the sturdy fresh layer beneath it. Ace began to claw at the outer casing, frantically peeling and pulling the woody folds off the trunk. Splintery brown fragments jammed under his short nails as he grappled, yet he continued his mission to beat up the family-destroying tree until finally he saw the sap of the tree ooze and bleed in a thick brown trickle.
He collapsed to the ground and leaned towards the tree. Ignoring the throb of his bleeding limbs, he wrapped his arms around the bottom of the trunk and rested his face against the bumpy hard surface. There was a time he had loved this tree. He closed his eyes and thick tears rolled over his cheeks while visions of climbing the branches and picking its offerings filled his mind with fleeting joy. There was a time when this tree had loved him, he was sure.
‘Ace?’ Glen called.
His father’s voice cut through his reverie with a bittersweet sliver. He fluttered his eyes to focus on his dad who was looking down at him with puzzlement.
‘It’s okay, dad. I’m okay,’ he replied, hauling himself to his feet. ‘Just a bit of tree-loving, that’s all,’ he said, forcing a smile as he rose and walked past him.
‘I’m going for a shower.’ He called back before disappearing inside.
By time he had showered and dressed, Ace was relieved to see Madison had returned from her walk. He rushed to his old bedroom and threw a few of his belongings into a bag, then scampered to the kitchen to usher themselves out of the house and away from his father. Too many memories lived here, and stirred through him like a suffocating web. Besides, although he had welcomed the sight of his father, he was eager to put some distance between them. He wasn’t ready for the truth his father had tried to reason from him, and he had discovered his father’s presence had only served to evoke a conflicting struggle within him. He had come back to Rockton with a plan. He squared his jaw with conviction. And I will follow through with the plan, he resolved, pushing away the lingering perplexity.
‘Okay dad, we’re off. Gotta get on the road and pick up these supplies for old Glassop!’ he announced while grabbing Madison’s arm and steering her towards the hall. ‘Did you find a van?’ he murmured in her ear.
She nodded. ‘I did real well,’ she whispered.
He reached out to grope a breast as they ambled down the hall. ‘Good girl.’ He gave her a squeeze. ‘I’ll show you how good you are later,’ he winked.
Glen followed them. ‘When will you be back in town?’ he asked.
‘Dunno,’ Ace replied.
Glen made grumbling noises behind him.
Ace smiled and paused at the front door. ‘I’ll try and be back soon; love you,’ he muttered.
He leaned in to give him a swift hug. His father enveloped him in his arms and pulled him close. ‘I love you too. Don’t forget what I said,’ he said gruffly, giving him a pat on the back.
‘So long, Mr Anderson,’ Madison chimed with a grin as she paraded to a big white van.
Glen grunted his farewell to her and looked back at Ace. ‘I know it’s hard fighting the demon inside, but you need to keep fighting it. There are people here that love you,’ he said.
Ace chuckled. ‘I told you, I’m good. Trust me,’ he winked, and headed to the car.
He loaded his bike in the back of the van as carefully and as fast as he could. Once behind the wheel, Ace began to feel his breathing ease as his chest relaxed. The engine roared to life. ‘Not bad; where did you get it?’ he asked.
Madison laughed. ‘Oh, I have my magic remember? Let’s get out of this place!’
‘Let’s do that, witch,’ he winked.
When he gunned down the street, he took a deep breath and smiled as he spied his father’s figure shrinking in the rear-view mirror. He caught a glimpse of his eyes in the reflection as he turned the corner and levelled out in the next street. ‘Turn from evil and do good, I beg you.’ Sheila’s words popped up out of nowhere and bubbled through his thoughts. No! He shook his head, pushing the thought from his mind. ‘There are people here that love you … Keep fighting him, Ace’. His father’s voice echoed in his head. No! He shook his head harder and turned up the radio. ‘Keep focused, Ace. Power and riches await you.’ The forceful voice of Apepsis immersed itself in his mind and rooted into his consciousness. Yes!
Ace glanced back to the small mirror. He remembered when his eyes were coloured like the sky and saw enchantment in every corner. But he had been young and foolishly believed in the people he loved. That was before he realised that despite giving his love, people either left him behind or betrayed him.
They were drawing closer to their destination. Ace slowed the car and took another peek in the rear-view mirror. The eyes that reflected back at him were dark like a stormy ocean and as unfathomable as an ingrained sapphire wedged within the earth. Even he didn’t recognise them. His vision dropped to the handbrake as he yanked it into place. He peered at his swollen hands. They appeared red and indignant and they ached. He sighed and felt the tear in his heart widen at the prospect of what he was about to do. However, he knew there was no other way; he knew no other way as he was a stranger to himself.
Some of the hurts you have cured
And the sharpest you still have survived
But what the torments of grief you endured
For evils which never arrived.
—Emerson
Millie stood back to survey the finishing touches she had applied to her cherub piece. The long tresses of her ponyt
ail bounced down her back as she nodded her approval. The blending worked well and the carnation of her little cherub appeared perfect, creating just the right pigmentation she wanted. She glanced to the over-sized iron clock that hung on the wall in the far side of the studio. ‘Crap,’ she muttered, scooping up her brushes and plopping them in a jar of turpentine to soak. It was just about time to collect Arella from school, after which she would go home to prepare her special dinner. Well, as special as it got with her culinary skills.
She threw on her cardigan and gathered her bag, rummaging through her belongings for her car keys and sunglasses as she closed the studio door and hurried to the gallery. She spotted Holly at the counter and made a bee-line towards her to plant a kiss on her cheek.
‘Got to run! See you tomorrow,’ she said breathlessly.
Holly gave her an amused look. ‘Annabella’s sculptures are just exquisite, don’t you agree?’ she said.
Millie continued to head for the door. ‘Absolutely,’ she called back. She paused briefly as the phone started ringing, and glanced at Holly as she reached to open the door.
Holly motioned for her to stop. ‘Just a moment,’ she uttered to the caller, then looked at Millie. ‘It’s your father.’
She hesitated with a frown. ‘Tell him I’ll call him later,’ she waved.
Holly nodded and turned back to the phone.
Millie pondered her father’s call as she drove the short distance to the school. She hadn’t spoken to him for a while, and she knew the time was coming for her to talk things through with him. Yet, she was reluctant to rehash old hurts and past actions. She pulled up in front of the school, and when she began to walk towards the gates where Arella usually met her, she became aware of the light breeze that fluttered through the trees and frolicked against her cheeks in a gentle caress. Pushing aside thoughts of her father, she gazed up towards the trees and watched the quivering leaves with fleeting fascination. She grinned with gratitude at the Australian Gum for keeping its leaves all year round.
The sound of the bell signified the end of the school day, and it wasn’t long before children began filing out of their classrooms and boisterously running for the gates. Millie’s eyes lit up as she watched them. She always found the animated imagination of children enchanting. She considered it a gift that was all too lost as adulthood loomed, which in most cases caused creative insight to dull. And that was a tragedy indeed, she thought.
A few minutes passed and still no Arella. She’s probably chewing her new teacher’s ear off, Millie frowned. Arella had been moved up a grade a few weeks before. She loved her new classroom and her new teacher, Mrs Brooks, speaking often about how she loved to talk to her teacher about the new equations she was learning. Millie fiddled with her keys and suppressed an irritated sigh.
With the parade of children dwindling, her frown deepened as she searched around one last time before deciding to go to Arella’s classroom. The gentle breeze suddenly chilled her bones, and she pulled her cardigan around her as her walk became a brisk march. When she reached Arella’s classroom, she peeked through the open doorway expecting to find her daughter in deep discussion with the teacher. But when she scanned the room and realised no-one was there, her heart skipped a beat as anxiety crept in. Where is she?
Pivoting on her feet, Millie almost stumbled as she rushed to the school office. Her eyes darted, desperate to catch a glimpse of her daughter. By the time she reached the office, she was panting heavily and it took a couple of goes before she could speak in an audible manner.
‘I’m looking for my daughter; she didn’t come and meet me at the gates. Arella Anderson – is she here?’ she gulped.
The woman behind the desk asked who Arella’s teacher was and to wait a moment. Millie rolled her eyes and tapped her short nails on the counter top as the woman walked down the hall. She returned a minute later accompanied by another woman who Millie assumed was Arella’s teacher. She was dressed in a conservative office pants outfit with chunky gold bangles decorating both her wrists.
‘Arella left with all the other kids at bell time; she didn’t meet you?’ she frowned.
‘No, did you see which way she went?’ Millie fought the panic in her chest.
Mrs Brooks shook her short blonde hair. ‘I’m sorry, I was still at my desk when they all left.’
Millie bit her lip. It wasn’t like Arella to just wander off. She would have come to the gates as usual. She would never leave with a stranger.
‘May I use your phone?’ Millie was already walking towards the phone on the other side of the counter.
Mrs Brooks’ dark eyes radiated kindness. ‘Of course. I’ll get a few teachers together and search the school,’ she said, turning to hurry deeper into the office.
Millie nodded as her trembling fingers punched in the numbers. Hurry up, answer the phone! she thought, listening to the drilling ring in her ear.
‘Hello?’ Glen answered.
Finally.
‘Dad! Is Arella with you?’ she quaked.
‘No, why? Where is she?’ he said.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat grew dry. ‘I don’t know; she didn’t meet me at the gate after school. Where could she be?’ she quivered.
A noisy gasp reverberated through the phone. ‘Oh shit, Millie. I called you earlier … I didn’t know; he told me he was good now and fighting off the darkness,’ he stammered.
It took a moment for her father’s words to soak into her consciousness, and as they fell into her awareness, it felt like a begrudging drip she was unable to stop. She had never hated words more than the ones her father had just uttered. She shook her head and her world began to spin. A sharp pain shot through her head and settled behind her eyes. She slumped against the top of the bench as legs began to feel like jelly.
‘Ace. Arella went with Ace?’ she whispered.
A chill spiralled through her like a twisting tornado gaining momentum. The colour drained from her face and she felt as if she watched through a pane of glass while the outside world flurried around her. An image of Ace as she had last seen him flashed through her mind and she shivered as she dropped the phone to the floor.
‘Miss Anderson?’ the office lady touched her arm.
She jumped and listlessly gazed at her.
‘Are you okay? I think we should call the police,’ she continued.
Millie nodded. ‘Yes,’ she murmured.
The woman guided her to a nearby chair and instructed her to sit. Millie collapsed into the chair and buried her face in her hands as deep sobs choked her. ‘He has my baby! My little girl.’ Her mind cringed and contorted with the jumble of her thoughts, and she felt as if she were suffocating. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her. Surely. She remembered how much he had adored Arella, yet when she recalled the fleeting stare of the black serpent with the cold sapphire eyes that night at the retreat, she knew there was no way of telling what he might do.
She shuddered. ‘I need to use the phone again,’ she mumbled.
There was no time to allow fear to overtake her; she had to clear her mind. She knew he really wanted her, and Arella was the perfect bait.
He was unable to stop the tremble of his hands as he carried the plate over to the table. Glen hated waiting around to hear news of Arella. He felt useless and responsible. There must be something else I can do? he fretted. He had already given as much information as he could remember to the police. He had barely glanced at the van Madison had brought back with her after her walk. Just as he was placing his omelette layered plate on the table, he lost his grip and the plate slipped from his hands and shattered to the floor.
‘Shit,’ he grumbled, surveying the mess. His stomach moaned with disappointment while he contemplated salvaging the remains of his stuffed omelette. Most of it was still intact. If I just pick out the chunks of plate, it’ll be fine, he reasoned.
He set about scraping the omelette to a new plate and cleaned up the broken dish that had exploded over the floor, th
en he sat at the table to eat the meal he had prepared. He took a mouthful and nodded to himself. Yum, it wasn’t ruined. Yet with the next bite of food, the egg became crunchy and gritted loudly against his teeth. He shrugged and continued eating between hefty sips of water.
A knock on the door fractured his otherwise quiet meal. I hope they’ve found my Rella!
He scrambled to the door and threw it opened forcibly, stopping short when his eyes found Lilly.
‘Hello Glen,’ she said.
Reminding himself to close his jaw, Glen stumbled over his greeting. He stood in the door frame looking as awkward as he felt and finding it extremely difficult to process her presence.
She gave a short smile. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. May I come in?’ she said.
He blinked. ‘Erm … no … no, I was just eating plate. Come in,’ he mumbled.
He led her to the kitchen and motioned for her to take a seat while he stiffly did the same. He noticed her looking about the kitchen with interest. She looked considerably better than the last time he had seen her, but then she had been wounded and at death’s door.
Her blue eyes glinted. ‘Some things don’t change,’ she remarked.
His eyes flitted to hers before slipping away. ‘And some things do,’ he said.
She nodded slightly while reaching for her bag and pulling out a folder. He noted the strands of grey that curled over the hairline of her face, and the lines that crinkled her forehead. Otherwise, her skin appeared fleshy and full; healthy.
He eyed the folder suspiciously as she placed it on the table. ‘Are you here about Arella?’ he asked.
Her puzzled expression revealed her answer before she spoke. ‘No, why would say that?’ she replied.
He ignored her question. ‘Then why did you come here, Lilly?’
She took a breath. ‘I want to marry Scott,’ she said.
His eyes fell to the folder again. ‘Oh …’ he stammered.