When Grace Went Away

by Meredith Appleyard

  Grace gaped at him. ‘When did you work all that out?’

  Grant snuffed out a dry laugh. ‘Hours, days, sitting beside the bed of my unconscious son, holding his hand. It gave me plenty of time to think, and I thought about you and our phone conversations some of that time.

  ‘Now tell me about Aaron, because so far you’ve studiously avoided saying much about him at all.’

  ‘I’ll make tea first,’ Grace said, rising to her feet. He didn’t stop her this time.

  Half an hour later she’d told him about Aaron—from their first forgettable meeting at the hotel, to his visit and the weekend in Paris, the conversations about the hopelessness of any kind of a future together, and their final parting. Grant listened to her every word, not interrupting once.

  ‘Are you in love with him?’ he said when she’d finished, and she had fallen back against the sofa.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Grant said, tempering it with a half-smile.

  Grace punched him lightly on the arm. ‘We had a good time, Grant, it was right for both of us back then, but we weren’t in love. We’ve talked about this before, and we wouldn’t have given up so easily if we had been in love.’

  ‘Then it sounds to me like you’re not in love with Aaron either, because you’re giving up pretty easily if you are.’

  Grace scowled again, folding her arms and falling into silence. Now the only sounds were the hum of the central heating and the slurpy noise Grant made when he sipped his tea.

  When he’d finished his drink and had his head rested back and eyes closed, Grace started talking again. She saw the corners of his mouth turn up.

  ‘If I go home they’ll say it’s because I couldn’t make it in the banking world.’

  ‘Who is they?’

  ‘Faith, and maybe Tim … Although to be fair, Tim has broadened his perspective these days. But Dad for sure. He’ll go on about all the money that was spent on my education … That it should have been spent on the farm like every other dollar was … How it was wasted because in the end I turned out to be nothing but a loser.’

  ‘Jeez, Grace, will you listen to yourself? Talk about a pity-party. You know you’re not a loser. If you don’t believe me, ask your mum. Ask your Nanna—I mean, you could ask her if she was still alive.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Grace said and gave a half-hearted gurgle of laughter on top of the remnants of her tears. ‘I do sound pretty pathetic, don’t I?’

  ‘Not quite pathetic, not yet, but if you keep on this trajectory …’ Grant pushed himself to his feet, yawning widely. ‘I should go. It’s been a special evening, Grace, but I’m wrecked. Late night last night, and a big game of golf tomorrow, then off to New York the following day.’

  Grace stood up. They hugged and she felt the tears prickle again.

  ‘You have been a most wonderful friend, Grant. If I were a religious sort of woman, I’d pray that everything goes well for you and your family, forever. There have been enough bumps in your road.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the lips before letting her go. ‘Now, you, put on your big-girl pants and do whatever it is you need to do. If that means going home, go home! But be happy. Life can change in the blink of an eye.’

  Funny how they both seemed to know and accept that this was goodbye for them. Circumstances had pushed Grant into making the difficult choices he’d had to make since receiving the phone call about his son’s accident. How his life would look in the years to come was clear: he’d be the primary carer for his son, and he’d make the most of it.

  Grace had been awed by his calm acceptance of the situation, as if there’d been no other choice to make. She supposed that when you were a parent, in his position, that’s how it would be.

  After he left she moped around the apartment. It was barely ten o’clock but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. After wiping down the kitchen benches and emptying the dishwasher, Grace made chamomile tea, turned off all the lights except for one lamp and sat down on the sofa to chew over what Grant had said.

  Idly, she picked up her phone. When the screen illuminated there were three missed calls from Aaron, all from hours ago.

  A rapid mental calculation told her he’d made the calls around four-thirty in the morning. Early, even for him. Her heart skipped a beat before ratcheting up its pace.

  His calls would have come in when she’d been vacuuming. She hadn’t heard the phone, hadn’t looked at it since she’d dropped it onto the table when she’d come home.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered, quickly calling him back.

  He didn’t answer. After two more tries her mouth was dry, her hands clammy. It would be close to nine in the morning in Miners Ridge. Aaron would be at work, and he always answered his phone.

  Without giving it a second thought she scrolled through to her mother’s number and tapped to connect.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Grace, sweetie. It’s late there. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m okay, but I missed three calls from Aaron earlier and now he’s not answering. He always answers his phone. I’m worried.’

  ‘Oh.’ The single syllable echoed ominously. ‘He’s on his way to Adelaide … His dad’s been unwell.’

  ‘I know that,’ Grace said impatiently. ‘He had the flu.’

  ‘Well, it seems he had another heart attack yesterday, and now he’s in cardiac failure.’ Her mother cleared her throat. ‘They’re not expecting him to last the day.’

  The phone slipped through Grace’s fingers and hit the carpet with a dull thud.

  49

  Sarah

  Aaron’s father faded away. It took a day longer than the doctors predicted, but his scarred heart eventually gave up. He died in the early hours surrounded by his family.

  Grace’s news that Aaron’s dad wasn’t his biological father had come as a complete surprise. ‘But he brought him up and they’ve always been close,’ she said when we talked the day after his death. I thought immediately of Emma, and Shane Bowden.

  ‘Have you talked to Aaron since his dad died?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I have, several times. He says he’s all right but I know he’s not. How could he be? His mother and brothers are devastated, and have left him to organise everything for the funeral,’ Grace said, sniffing loudly. ‘I wish I was there,’ she added, her voice thick with tears. My guess was Aaron wished she were as well.

  When Aaron came home to Miners Ridge after the funeral, it was as if the light inside of him had dimmed.

  Again, I’d held the fort business-wise—answering calls, checking emails, and explaining and apologising to his clients for his absence. I’d fed the elusive Bob and watered the indoor plants. When Aaron’s absence stretched out to over a week, I’d bought more cat food and dragged his wheelie bin out to the kerb on rubbish day.

  Some of the townsfolk remembered Aaron’s father from the time he’d lived and worked in Miners Ridge. No one had a bad word to say about the man. I searched my memory bank but couldn’t recall ever meeting him.

  Many local people extended their sympathy and understanding, demonstrating how much they liked and respected Aaron.

  ‘I am so sorry about your dad,’ I said when I’d finished handing over to him. The telling hadn’t taken long. Needless to say there’d be no bookwork requiring my attention that week. ‘It does get easier with time, but you never stop missing them.’

  There wasn’t a day that went past that I didn’t think about Luke, or Mum. Sometimes they were happy thoughts, sometimes they came with the dull ache of loss.

  ‘So everyone keeps telling me. But it’s like time’s standing still,’ he said, and I understood precisely what he meant.

  It was late afternoon and we were sitting at his kitchen table drinking tea, a comfortable ritual we’d developed. I was searching for something to distract him with when it struck me that he’d known Luke, and maybe he knew something about my son’s relationshi
p with Louise.

  He sensed that I wanted to ask him something because he looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I cleared my throat, then blurted out the whole tale about how Faith was convinced that Emma was Luke’s daughter.

  ‘You knew Luke around that time,’ I said. ‘Was he seeing Louise Claremont? Do you think Tim would know anything?’

  Aaron stood up, took his cup to the sink and went to the fridge, taking out a stubbie of beer. He held it up, but I shook my head. I couldn’t stand the stuff.

  He sat down, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Unconsciously, I tapped my fingers on the tabletop. He looked at my drumming fingers and then up at me, and this time his smile lit up his whole face.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, and folded my hands in my lap.

  ‘I did know Luke, but not that well. I left high school about the time he started, went travelling and then to uni. It escapes me why I was in town the weekend of Luke’s twenty-first … Mum and Dad had left here by then so I’d probably come to catch up with Tim and a couple of other mates, to get out of the city for a couple of days.

  ‘Tim and Luke were at the pub on the Friday night, and they invited me along to Luke’s do in the town hall the following night.’ His brow furrowed as he trawled through his memories. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I reckon Louise was working in the bar that night, and Tim was stirring Luke about her, loud enough for her to hear. Luke joked along with him for a while but then Louise started to get pissed off … You know Tim, never does know when to quit.’

  Aaron paused, his eyes widening a fraction when he remembered who he was talking to.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, reaching over to pat the back of his hand. ‘I’m his mother, Aaron. I love him but I am cognisant of his flaws. Go on.’

  ‘Well, I remember thinking that Luke and Louise must have been pretty tight. They had this silent communication thing going, the sort of thing you only get when you know someone really well.’ He lifted his broad shoulders. ‘And that’s about the sum total of what I know. Your son was killed, I came back for his funeral. I did give Louise a hug afterwards. She was a total mess … Looked awful.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ I said, and Aaron’s gaze was filled with compassion.

  ‘Sarah, I don’t think many other people did either,’ he said. ‘Tim might know more, but I doubt it.’

  ‘So Emma could be Luke’s daughter.’

  ‘She could,’ he said, twirling the nearly empty stubbie. ‘Carol tells me Emma’s ten … The timing would be right.’

  We sat in silence, each mulling over whatever, until Bob appeared at the French door, meowing to be let in. I glared at him. This was the first time he’d shown his furry face since Aaron left for Adelaide.

  It was time for me to go home. Everything creaked when I stood up, including the chair.

  ‘You let me know if there’s anything you need,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, but I knew I wouldn’t hear from him.

  At least I’d managed to distract him from his grief for a little while.

  My mulling didn’t stop there, not by a long stretch. Listening to Aaron share his memories of what turned out to be Luke’s last days left me with a heavy heart. I was missing my youngest son and all that could have been, all that should have been.

  Ben might say it wasn’t prudent to do anything about Emma until we were sure, but when would that be, and how would we ever be sure? Louise was the only person who could tell us if Luke had been Emma’s father. Of course, she might not be one hundred per cent certain either. My brain hurt even thinking about that.

  That wasn’t the only thing I mulled over. Instinctively I knew that Aaron would be all right. He was solid. He’d get through his grief and get on. But it upset me knowing how much better it would have been for him if someone were there for him.

  The more I got to know Aaron, the fonder of him I became, and he needed someone to share his life with. He had so much to give.

  Although I would have been delighted for my daughter to have been that someone, I feared Grace was too busy focussing on all the reasons why a relationship with him wouldn’t work, rather than putting her energy into seeing if she could make one work.

  But only a crazy woman would butt in, and I was far from crazy.

  After lunch the next day I drove to Adelaide for a specialist appointment the following morning. So caught up in the goings-on of family and friends, and the gallery garden and finances, I’d thought little about the pending check-up. It was just another thing to tick off.

  My appetite was good, my weight stable and everything else was normal for me. I felt well. There was no reason to think anything could be wrong.

  Then why was it that the closer I got to Adelaide, the higher my level of anxiety became? I’d planned the trip to miss the peak hour traffic, so I couldn’t blame the knot in my stomach on that.

  After I’d parked in the unit’s single garage, I sat for a few minutes before unloading the SUV and ferrying everything inside.

  The tiny garden looked remarkably intact, only because since I’d moved out Grace was paying for a gardening service. In the morning I’d knock on the neighbour’s door and thank Mary for keeping an eye on the place, and forwarding any mail that slipped past the redirection notice. Best I didn’t mention her spying on me and reporting back to Grace.

  A blast of fusty air greeted me when I opened the unit’s front door. It’d been six or seven weeks since Tim and Aaron had stayed there. I opened windows and doors to let the warm, late afternoon breeze drive out some of the stuffiness. All the place needed was a little TLC. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

  The futon wasn’t the most comfortable of beds but it was late when I retired, and I was worn out and probably could have gone to sleep standing up. But the unit smelled fresh, the floors had been swept and mopped, the bathroom was spotless again. I’d even taken down the drapes in the sitting room and given them a good shake and a quick airing before hanging them up again.

  Someone rattling at the front door woke me on Friday morning. With the drapes and blinds closed, the room was dim and when I looked at the time it was later than I’d expected, well after eight.

  ‘Coming,’ I yelled, certain it’d be Mary checking to see that I wasn’t a squatter. I hadn’t brought a dressing gown with me so she’d have to take me as I was.

  Yawning widely I opened the front door. I blinked. I must be dreaming, I thought. The screen door was propped open with a suitcase and Grace was standing on the doorstep, reaching towards the lock with a key in her hand.

  50

  After we’d recovered from our mutual surprise, we hugged and laughed and cried. And hugged some more before I put the kettle on. Although she was pale and exhausted after the long haul flight, Grace still managed to look chic in black woollen slacks, boots and a soft, sage-coloured knit and matching scarf.

  I envied her skill with a scarf. No matter how many times she showed me, I could never get them to drape in fashionable folds the way she did.

  ‘What are you doing in Adelaide?’ she said after she’d dragged her suitcase inside. ‘I thought you’d be in Miners Ridge.’

  ‘Specialist appointment. In two hours’ time.’

  ‘Oh, of course. Silly me. I have the date down in my calendar to ring you afterwards. Are you heading back to Miners Ridge straight after the appointment?’

  ‘I hadn’t decided. I’d thought about staying down another night, but I guess you’ll be wanting to see Aaron. Does he know you’re coming?’

  ‘No, it was very much a spur of the moment decision. I had to call in a few favours, and to tell you the truth, Mum, I don’t know how I would have handled it if he’d said not to come. Have you got milk?’ she said, at the same time as she lifted the lid of Tim’s car fridge and took out the carton I’d bought.

  ‘I see,’ I said, because I did understand what she was saying. In my mind she’d made the right choice. Would Aaron h
ave tried to dissuade her from coming? I didn’t think so, but they needed to work it out for themselves.

  When I pulled back the drapes it was to see a modest silver sedan parked on the kerb.

  ‘You hired a car,’ I said with a question mark.

  ‘I did. I was going to sleep here for a few hours and then drive to Miners Ridge.’ She poured milk into her coffee and my tea. ‘I can still do that, unless you wanted me to come to the specialist with you? You could still drive to Miners Ridge tomorrow, or whenever, like you’d planned.’

  In the end, Grace slept on the futon while I was at the specialist.

  It was a drab, overcast day, but I was oblivious, thrilled to have Grace home and eager to spend as much time with her as I could. If you paid me I couldn’t tell you much of what the specialist said, but I remember him looking satisfied, so he must have been happy with my progress. The practice nurse took my blood for the routine follow-up tests and I was on my way again.

  We returned the hire car, grabbed a late lunch at a nearby cafe, and I drove us home to Miners Ridge.

  For the early part of the trip, we talked non-stop. Grace’s jaw dropped when I filled her in on Faith’s conviction that Emma was Luke’s daughter, what Aaron had said, and what I thought about it all.

  She listened intently and then put in her two bob’s worth.

  ‘It’s possible,’ she said. ‘And I bet Dad knows more than he’s let on. In my opinion the best thing is for one of us to ask Louise. If she doesn’t feel threatened there’s no reason for her not to tell us the truth. If she’s smart she’ll realise it could be to Emma’s long-term advantage.’

  When she said it like that, it sounded so simple. Why wasn’t I convinced?

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you?’ I asked.

  ‘Why should it? It’s unlikely that Luke would have been a virgin when he died, Mum. And to have something of him into the future … Well, it’d be great.’

  ‘Yes, it would be wonderful,’ I said. ‘I guess I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much in case we’re wrong. Sometimes you see what you want to see and not what’s really there.’