by jodi Gibson
But still, even though she knew she had to move forward, had to look to the future, what did that future look like? And what steps did she need to take? Would Tom even want her anymore? These were questions she didn’t have answers to. But she had to find them.
As she arrived at the cemetery, Laura let Mick’s call go through to voice mail for the second time that morning. She was surprised at his persistence on a Sunday. The buyer must be keen, she thought, stepping out of the car.
Laura tightened the belt of her coat around her. The autumn wind felt more like a winter southerly as it whisked away the clouds and delivered a clean blue sky. A fresh slate, thought Laura. She weaved her way through the headstones, nodding at an elderly woman praying at a large grave flourished with roses. When she arrived at her mother’s grave, she noticed another bunch of white carnations, still fresh, had been laid in front of the new headstone. She picked them up and pushed their stems into the florists’ foam of her own pink arrangement, then placed them down again before squatting on her haunches.
She sighed. She didn’t think she’d ever be the type of person to talk to a gravestone, but that was before.
‘Well, Mum.’ She paused to bite the inside of her cheek before continuing. ‘I wish you were still here. So I could properly apologize to you for everything. But, I kind of want to know why you didn’t push me earlier. Why you let me run away? I know you thought that maybe I’d come around once I’d grieved. But didn’t you see? I didn’t let myself grieve. I moved straight on with life. A life I thought would fix everything so I wouldn’t have to face the past. Why didn’t you tell me I was wrong?’
A single sparrow fluttered down, landing on the headstone next to Judy’s. It cocked its head to Laura and flew away.
‘I know what you’d say right now if you were here. That I wouldn’t have listened to you. And you’re probably right. But maybe I wanted you to try?’ Laura’s eyes welled, and she sat down on the damp ground, feeling it seep through her coat and jeans onto her legs, but she didn’t care.
‘What do I do now? I wish someone would tell me.’ Laura looked into the vacant sky, as if Judy would send the answer floating toward her from heaven. The pale sun warmed her face, and she closed her eyes, listening to the quiet that surrounded her. The chirping of nearby birds, the gentle hum of the odd passing car, the whisper of prayer from the elderly woman, the rhythmic tick of her watch. She sighed and opened her eyes. That’s when she noticed the single white feather, the color of fresh snow, lying next to the headstone. Laura was sure it hadn’t been there before. She reached out and picked it up, gently stroking the outer vanes. It was so delicate and fine beneath her fingers. And then, all of a sudden, her eyes flew open, a warm rush surging inside her.
That was it. She knew what she had to do. She jumped to her feet, brushing off a few crumpled leaves from her coat. She wished she could reach out and hug her mother, but instead she smiled and whispered, ‘Thank you, Mum. I love you more than ice cream.’ And with that, she wiped away the tears and tucked the feather into her pocket. She had plans to make.
Chapter 33
The main street hummed with Monday morning shoppers and shopkeepers sweeping their footpaths as Laura pulled into a parking lot outside Wood & Lewis Solicitors. As she gathered her handbag off the passenger seat, Laura’s phone rang. It was Mick, but this time she was keen to answer and put the car in park quickly. ‘Hey, Mick,’ she said.
‘Laura. I thought you’d gone rogue on me,’ he laughed, his voice echoing. He must have had her on speakerphone.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls yesterday. I’ve just … had a lot going on. But yes, I’ll take the offer.’
She heard his hands clap together. ‘Fantastic! That’s great news. I’ll get onto my buyer and get the ball rolling. Want me to get in touch with your solicitor, or do you want to handle that?’
‘I’m already one step ahead of you, Mick.’ Laura smiled.
After collecting the documents from her solicitor and delivering them to Mick to sign, Laura drove to the library. She didn’t know if Shea would be there, but it was worth a shot. She had to talk through these plans with someone objective. And she liked Shea. She was easy to talk to. She’d mentioned how she wanted to find a hobby since moving to the area but hadn’t found anything. Although it wasn’t technically a hobby, she was hoping Shea would jump at the chance to somehow help Laura with her plans.
Laura bounded through the double doors, seeing Shea’s face light up with a smile when Laura entered. Shea rounded the counter and greeted her with a warm hug.
‘Hey, I hadn’t seen you for a few days. Thought maybe you’d already left town,’ Shea said, gathering up a stack of books from the returns counter.
‘You didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?’
Shea laughed. ‘Glad you didn’t. Hey, want to help me put these away?’ she asked with a grin.
‘Sure.’
Shea handed half the books to Laura, who followed Shea to the shelves, talking as Shea filed away the books and straightened the shelves as she went.
‘I have some news,’ Laura said, shifting the weight of the books to her other hip.
‘Good news, I hope?’
‘Well, yes. I think so. Looks like I’ll be sticking around.’ Laura felt an amazing sense of relief as the words floated past her lips. It felt right. Like every broken road she’d had to travel over the past years was to direct her back here, back home.
‘Really?’ Shea stopped and turned to Laura. ‘That’s awesome!’ She pulled her into another embrace around the books.
‘Yep. And I need your help.’
‘My help? Of course. Anything.’ Shea looked at her watch. ‘It’s break time, come with me and I’ll make you one of my awesome double soy lattes with caramel.’
Sitting down in the library café, Laura sipped on the latte Shea had just made her, the foam bubbling at her lips as she drank. ‘Wow! This is good,’ Laura said.
‘I know, isn’t it? Anyway,’ Shea replied after taking another sip herself, ‘how can I help you?’
Laura took a deep breath. This was it. She’d come too far to curl back up into herself and hide. That was the old Laura. The new Laura—the real Laura—wasn’t going to pretend the world wasn’t happening around her. She was going to make it happen. Laura pulled a large notebook from her bag and began explaining to Shea the idea that had appeared in her head at her mum’s grave the day before. An idea so wild, that for the first time in an eternity it excited Laura to no end.
During her unfinished counseling training, Laura had studied how farm stays had helped troubled youths find purpose again. There were particular farms that helped city youth deal with drug and alcohol addiction, but also a handful that concentrated on country youth exhibiting initial signs of struggle.
‘The idea is to get to these teens before they reach the point where they’re considering drugs and alcohol as a way to deal with their issues, or even the boredom and the hopelessness of being stuck in a country town,’ Laura said.
Shea was listening intently, nodding throughout.
‘Getting them out onto the farms—and not just in the boring jobs, but actually working on the farm, knowing they are making a difference, shows them the value of hard work. Rewarding work. Doing something that’s appreciated and valued reinstalls a sense of hope and responsibility for them. And it helps the farmers as it’s—hopefully, I haven’t got that far yet—partly funded by government initiatives. Tom tells me farmhands are hard to come by these days.’
Laura knew her plan wasn’t without its flaws. There was a lot of legwork to be done. She’d of course have to finish her counseling course and get through the red tape of dealing with government departments. Grants would need to be applied for. And then there was the farm. Tom’s farm to begin with. He’d of course have to agree to it. But, with the sale of the house, Laura was sure she could convince Tom that they could make it work—together. And f
rom there, she hoped that other local farmers would be willing to join the program too.
Laura leaned back against her chair and twisted her mouth. ‘Well?’ she said to Shea with hopeful eyes.
‘Laura, this is such a brilliant plan. I can’t believe you pulled all this together in one afternoon! Of course I’ll help you.’
‘Really? That would be so great. You seem to be in touch with the community, and you are so amazingly organized, from what I can tell. I’d love you to help me set it up. If, of course, you have time.’
Laura noticed Shea’s eyes becoming glassy as she listened to her. ‘You have no idea how much this town needs this.’
Laura buzzed inside. ‘I wish it didn’t. But, if I can help even one young person get back on track, I think it will be worth it.’
‘Of course it will. This is amazing!’
‘I just wish someone could have done something for Ryan,’ Laura said, sucking in her bottom lip.
Shea nodded. ‘I wish I could have been more helpful finding out what happened.’
Laura looked down at her hands and began flicking her fingernails. ‘I know what happened now.’
‘You do?’
‘Tom told me.’
Laura explained the developments of the past few days.
‘Oh Laura,’ Shea gasped before cupping her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe it. And you, you’re so calm.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it hasn’t really hit me yet. Or maybe, I’m just—which sounds awful—relieved to know what really happened.’
‘True. At least you know now,’ Shea said. ‘And, you can write your own ending.’
Laura tilted her head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Make Ryan’s life count for something. Sure, he may have been depressed, and he really stuffed up, but from what you tell me, he was a good person. Wasn’t he?’
Laura stared into the distance, past the other tables and the shelves of books, and into space, thinking. He was. Deep down, despite the depression, despite his confusion, his mistakes, his family, he was a good person.
‘What would Ryan want you to do?’
Laura turned back to Shea, her eyes misty again. ‘He’d want me to do this.’
Shea pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and smiled, patting Laura’s hand. ‘Well, that’s all you need to know.’
Chapter 34
The aftermath of the flood wasn’t pretty. Tom had been out surveying more damage in the lower paddocks. Fences compromised, two of his pumps ruined, and more stock losses than initially thought. And although the water was receding, it was doing so at a snail’s pace, stalling the cleanup process. Thankfully the steps in the flood management plan he had taken to protect the sheds and machinery had worked. Small mercies.
Tom checked on the couple of new calves that had survived, pleased they were okay. Then, he made his way back to the house to order fencing supplies and feed. As he pulled the farm Ute to a bumpy halt behind the house, Tom noticed an unfamiliar vehicle making its way down the long gravel driveway. The midday sun reflected off the windshield, making it difficult to see who was behind the wheel. Tom jumped out of the Ute and jogged over to the front porch, his socks squelching inside his soaked boots, while his visitor climbed out of the car. It wasn’t until she stepped onto the porch and pushed her sunglasses up into her blonde hair that he realized who it was. Rachel.
Tom took a deep breath.
‘Hey, Tom!’ she said with a soft smile, as if her rocking up on his doorstep were a casual occurrence, and not a ten-year time lapse. Tom noticed she had aged. Her once long blonde mane was now cut into a short bob that framed her face. Her eyes were flanked by small wrinkles as she squinted in the sunlight.
‘Geez, Rachel.’ Tom tried to hide his shock at her impromptu visit. ‘Long time no see.’
She walked over to him and gave him an awkward hug. They had never been close enough to hang out much on their own. Laura had always been the glue between them. In fact, Tom and Rachel had an almost love-hate relationship, always taunting each other, but it was always in good spirits. She was fun, and they'd all shared some great times, but unfortunately the good memories were all too hard to recall. It was the bad ones that lingered closer to the surface, raising Tom’s hackles.
‘I heard the flood was pretty bad out here,’ Rachel said, surveying the farm.
‘Yeah, not great. A lot of work to be done, that’s for sure.’ Tom sighed. There was an awkward pause. ‘You coming in for a minute?’ Tom said, motioning toward the verandah. Rachel nodded, and Tom led her around to the back door.
When they were inside the kitchen, Rachel hung her bag off the back of the kitchen chair and took a seat at the small, worn timber table.
‘Coffee?’ Tom asked, hoping she would say yes so he’d have something to do.
‘Yeah, thanks. Black, two sugars.’
Tom switched on the kettle and busied himself with the cups and sugar.
‘Wow this place hasn't changed much,’ Rachel said. ‘Still as I remembered.’
‘Yeah, nah, nothin’s changed much around here,’ Tom replied, attempting small talk. ‘Except the water.’ The unspoken hung between them like a thick fog. He stirred in the sugar and brought the cups to the table, breaking the silence with the question he really wanted answered. Subtlety and patience never was his thing.
‘So, why are you here, Rachel?’ Tom said, turning his cup around in circles on the table.
Rachel took a long sip of the coffee, drawing the liquid in with a small slurp. She swallowed and kept staring at her mug, lost for words. Tom waited, his knee jiggling impatiently or nervously, he wasn’t sure which, under the table.
‘I want to make amends,’ she finally said with a shaky voice, staring into her cup.
‘With me?’ said Tom, frowning.
‘With you. With Laura. With what happened.’
Tom sighed. He didn't want to be the go-between. He had his own issues he needed to sort out with Laura and knew Rachel's complications wouldn’t be helpful in the least.
‘Just let it go, Rach. Laura’s had a rough few months, what with Judy’s death and coming back here. I think it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, you know?’ He shrugged.
‘I know. It's just …’ Tom cold see the frustration creep across her face and strain the small creases at the corners of her mouth.
‘Look, Rach,’ he said. ‘You need to leave it. Too much happened back then. There’s too much water under the bridge.’ He cringed at the ironic metaphor.
Next thing he knew, tears had welled in Rachel's eyes and spilled over the edge, slowly making their way down her flushed cheeks. The events of the past were still obviously raw and close to the surface for her as well.
‘I'm sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn't mean to upset you. But don't you see? It's just all too much. We need to move on. Let Laura finally move on.’
He’d messed up with Laura. Thinking over the past few days, he wished he’d done it differently, maybe even stayed quiet. Then maybe she’d be here with him, rather than him having no idea what she was thinking. And if Rachel were to come and stir things up again … Man, that could only make things worse. No. If he’d learned anything over the past few days, it was that the truth wasn’t worth it.
Rachel broke into his thoughts. ‘But maybe we do need to deal with it, Tom. We never did. No one knows the truth. There is so much you both don't know that I've been carrying around for so long. I never had the chance to explain. To apologize.’ The tears continued to trickle down Rachel's face, and Tom almost felt sorry for her. Well, he did feel sorry for her, but each time, a wave of nausea would take over as he remembered how Ryan and Rachel had hurt Laura. The anger reared up like a provoked bull. But it was no use. None of it mattered anymore. Tom propped his elbows on the table. Now it was his turn to stare into the coffee for the answers. They weren’t there. ‘I don't know, Rachel.’
‘Please, Tom, you have to make Laura see me. I need
the chance to explain. I've been living with these feelings, and I just can't move on. I know that if you both knew the truth you could move on too.’
‘You know I didn’t speak to Laura the whole time she was in Melbourne?’ Tom said, running his finger over the small scratches on the table.
Rachel’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘I thought … You two were always so close.’
Tom breathed out heavily. ‘I thought so too. But after she left, I never heard from her again. I’d begged Judy to get her to talk to me, and I know she would have tried, but nothing. I guess it was Laura’s way of dealing with it. We were all so young back then.’
‘I’m sorry, Tom. I had no idea.’
‘You took off too, not long after.’
Rachel went to speak, but Tom waved his hands and pushed himself out from the table, the chair scraping on the boards and echoing around the kitchen. ‘This isn’t going to help, Rach; it's no use. And I don't want to see her hurt again. Any of us, for that matter. We’re all adults now. We all have our own lives to get on with. That’s just what we need to do. End of story.’
He picked up the two mugs, both unfinished, and put them in the sink. ‘We need to let her go,’ he said, staring out the window into the stagnant water lying in the low areas, a tightness in his heart.
Tom heard Rachel move toward him, then felt her warm hand on his back. ‘We need to do this, Tom. And we need to do it together,’ she said. ‘I know how you felt about her.’
Tom huffed and shook his head. ‘Yeah, well it's too late for all that now. None of it matters.’ He walked toward the back door and held it open for Rachel, hoping she’d get the message that this conversation, which was going nowhere, was over. She twisted her mouth, grabbed her bag, and walked outside.