The Secrets We Keep

by Shirley Patton

  ‘Good night,’ she called to the cleaners, as she let herself out the front door and into a warm August evening. A late roosting pair of pink and grey galahs flew ahead of their soft muffled calls. She looked westward at the vivid crimson and purple sky of the desert country sunset, and thought of Lee, and summer, and the breeze blowing in from the ocean.

  Her car door squeaked as she opened it—Lee would have fixed that. Lee would have fixed a lot of things given the chance. Lee, who had reached in, felt for her story, stroked her secret. She had almost yielded.

  Aimee closed the door. She backed out into the empty street and turned onto Boulder Road. There were few cars about.

  Yeah, well, most people are at home, sitting down for dinner with their families, she thought, miserable. The lights of a bottle shop flashed at her as she drove by but she resisted their temptation.

  That isn’t going to help, she told herself.

  She knew what might. Lee.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lori stepped into the calmness of her home. Papa’s steadfastness seemed etched into the tin walls, the floorboards. She kicked off her shoes, and with arms outstretched, slid the length of the passage.

  Several hours later she was flushed again from the exertion of making sure everything was perfect, then from anxiety. He was late. An hour late. She was about to turn off the oven, the cheese on the lasagne already overcooked, when his car pulled up in the driveway. She took a deep breath and willed herself back into calmness.

  ‘I’m so sorry, please forgive me,’ he begged, pushing a straggly bunch of flowers towards her with one hand and grabbing her awkwardly for an embrace with the other. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, looking at the flowers, ‘they were all I could find at this time of night.’

  He looked so forlorn her anxiety over the past hour disappeared, replaced with a curiosity about what had happened. But first dinner.

  ‘Come in, it’s okay,’ she said, pulling him in and closing the door behind him.

  ‘Dinner smells delicious,’ he said, taking off his jacket and laying it over the dining room chair.

  You smell delicious, she thought, as she leant over him and re-lit the candles on the dining table. ‘Please, sit down, dinner will only be a couple of minutes. Would you like a drink?’ He looked stressed. ‘I know you don’t usually but I have some weak Italian table wine. Or would you prefer a juice or water?’

  He frowned and bit at his lower lip.

  She loved his lips.

  ‘You know, I think I will, just this once, just one glass.’

  He seemed relieved. Perhaps he’d expected her to be angry.

  A bottle later, shared equally, she’d learnt that he’d been about to leave and Daniel had arrived home from a trip out to the bush, taking people back after a funeral. He was upset but insisted Patrick keep his appointment. But Patrick knew he needed to stay and listen. Things had been said to Daniel today by one of the elders in the group he’d driven home. ‘Nyurra yaaltjinguru?’ he’d been asked. ‘From the Kimberleys,’ Daniel had replied. ‘You go home,’ the old man warned, they callin’ you. Kulila.’ Daniel said he had been listening, then the old man whispered in his ear, sacred words, and told him this wasn’t his country. ‘Go home.’

  Patrick had felt the need to stay until he knew Daniel was all right. His eyes pleaded with her for understanding. He needn’t have, he already had it.

  After their meal she led him outside, under the loquat tree. It was a full moon and the evening was still warm. The heady scent of evening flowers hung in the air. She breathed deeply, the scent fusing with the wine in her veins. She pulled him down beside her. He stretched out, leaning back on his elbows.

  ‘I have something to tell you,’ he said.

  A moon shadow of foliage covered his face. She pulled him towards her; the wine smelt sweet on his breath.

  ‘I’ve never been with a woman.’

  ‘Ne’er have I,’ she joked, to diffuse the tension, ‘unless you count my high school sleepovers.’

  He laughed nervously, joining her in the release of humour. ‘Well, if the stories I’ve heard over the years are any indication, many of us had that experience.’

  She laughed. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes, which is what I want to talk about.’ He leant back on one elbow. ‘I went into the priesthood straight from school. I was only in my twenties when I came out from Ireland to Western Australia. I loved the outback and the kids. That’s where I met Daniel, up north in Derby. He was a community worker and we worked on a project together, helping young mums get a start, you know, only kids themselves really, some of them, living on the edge of town. Anyway, we got close and there were things he told me about his time at boarding school with the church, it made me question my faith in the church, and its people. But it wasn’t only that that made me leave, it was the feelings I had. I’d never known love, or any intimacy other than my family. It was a confusing time, Lori. I sought counsel but in the end I was conflicted, I realised things I hadn’t known before, about myself, the world around me—I don’t know, maybe I simply grew up, Lori. The long and the short of it is I decided to leave and I went to Perth and completed my social work degree and here I am.’

  ‘What about Daniel?’ said Lori, her heart pounding.

  ‘We kept in touch by letter but I hadn’t seen him again until he came here. He contacted me asking for help. He was expected to take up his responsibility as a medicine man and he was struggling with what it would mean for him. He’s an initiated man and he can’t walk away from it. He’s a good man, Lori.’

  I know, she thought.

  ‘And I care about him. So, I arranged for him to come and stay with me for a stint, to think things through.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He knows about us, I’ve told him.’

  She nodded, smiling.

  ‘He’s leaving at the end of the month. He’s ready to take up his role.’

  She knelt up and pulled her dress over her head. She watched his eyes fall on her full breasts, so noticeable on her lean frame; she reached back and undid her bra.

  He breathed in sharply. ‘You’re glorious,’ he whispered.

  She pulled him towards her and as he smothered his face in her neck, moving excitedly down her body, she tried not to think of Papa, who was always so present in this part of the garden.

  Then she laughed at the joy of it all and forgot everything but the man she knew she would spend the rest of her life with …

  Later, she said, ‘Come live with me, Paddy. You’re rattling around in your govie house and me in mine.’

  ‘It’ll be a scandal,’ he laughed.

  ‘I know but I don’t care, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘I don’t want children, Paddy.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ he said.

  ‘In my family that may be even more of a scandal.’

  ‘Mine too, but there you go.’

  ‘And we’ll save money. For Tahiti.’

  ‘Yes, for Tahiti.’

  ‘And I want to do social work, after we come back.’

  ‘I’ll help.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  Lori thought of her glory box and Nonna, and Papa. This was her glory, her magnificence, this moment, right now. The rest would unfold as it should. She knew that. Aggie would approve. She laughed and jumped on Paddy, smothering his face in kisses, craving the taste of him.

  Yes, this was glorious.

  Aimee was dreaming of church bells pealing when the oven timer woke her up. She’d fallen asleep watching the news. The last thing she remembered was Bob Hawke being interviewed, looking pleased with himself after being re-elected prime minister for a third term last month. Her father was a great admirer. They’re a bit alike, she thought, both charismatic leaders.

  She lurched out of the armchair and opened the oven door. Her frozen dinner had leaked onto the bottom of the oven.

  �
�Damn,’ she said. She was cleaning up the mess when there was a knock on the front door. Surprised, she threw the sponge into the sink and made her way down the hall, turning on the porch light as she went. A tall figure was silhouetted against the glass panel in the door. She undid the safety latch and peered out.

  ‘Lee, oh my God, what are you doing here?’ she gasped, flinging open the door.

  ‘Jehovah’s Witness, would you like a free booklet?’ Lee answered in a fake deep voice.

  She stared, transfixed. Lee looked wonderful, vibrant, everything she had first been attracted to. The red hair was a bit longer but everything else, the same. She recovered. ‘I’m sure your mother would not find that kosher,’ she jested.

  ‘No,’ Lee laughed, ‘but it’s been a while since I sat Shabbat.’

  They stood staring at each other, measuring their reception, eyes twinkling.

  ‘Are you going to let me in?’ challenged Lee.

  I think I can let you in, she thought. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, please, come in, excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company, I’ve been cleaning the oven, my dinner …’ she fussed, standing back to let Lee pass. She looked into the night and saw a Kombi campervan parked in her driveway. She closed the door and returned to the lounge room where Lee had hoisted off a backpack and stood holding the straps.

  ‘Planning a long visit,’ she tried joking.

  ‘No, passing through on my way to Tasmania,’ Lee replied unsmiling.

  ‘Right.’ Her heart sank. But why? She had no claim on Lee. Although their conversation on Lee’s birthday had been flirtatious there’d been nothing explicit. But it had left her yearning. As she stared at Lee it was hard to realise almost two years had passed since they’d touched.

  ‘Is there any chance I could stay a night or two? If you’re uncomfortable I can sleep in the van.’ The large brown eyes were pleading.

  She felt her composure slipping. She wanted to pour it all out, everything, all the secrets, wash herself clean in the love that Lee had offered and she had run away from. ‘No, it’s fine, you can sleep here. I’ve only one bed, but it’s a double, unless you’d prefer to sleep in the van. If you’d rather sleep in the van, you—’

  ‘No, if it’s all right with you, it’s all right with me,’ Lee interrupted.

  They stood looking at each other, awkward in their dance.

  ‘Cup of tea, coffee?’ She broke step.

  ‘Coffee would be great, do you still have that sighing percolator?’

  They both laughed.

  ‘The orgasming coffee pot?’ she teased. ‘Yes I do, thank you very much. I’ll put it on just for you and no more smart comments or you’ll get dust instead,’ she stirred back. It’s what they called instant coffee—dust.

  They made small talk as she made the coffee, filling the kitchen with a rich aroma and the strange little sighs of the machine as it distilled the fluid through the filter. She felt newly conscious of her body as Lee watched her—it had been a long time.

  When the sighing finished she poured them two large mugs of black coffee and invited Lee into the lounge room. They sat on the only two armchairs, side by side, their mugs steaming on the occasional table between them. She jumped up and turned off the television, leaving the room in darkness.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, fumbling around for the standard lamp in the corner. She switched it on.

  ‘Romantic,’ Lee teased, looking her up and down.

  She reddened and quickly sat down. ‘So, tell me about Tasmania,’ she diverted.

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I was over there last year, remember I told you about it at Christmas, on the phone?’

  She nodded politely. She’d been hungover and could only vaguely remember.

  ‘The wilderness areas over there, they’re stunning, Aimee. Great bushwalking. I met a lot of good people committed to keeping it that way. Anyway, there’s plans to build a pulp mill at a place called Wesley Vale, in the north-west, and some of the friends I made over there contacted me to see if I’d join them. They’re against the mill, the pollution it’ll cause, and the logging of native forests. So I’ve agreed to help them, pro bono, with the action they’re planning.’ Lee took a sip of coffee and grinned, ‘I tell you, I’m never going to be rich, the old man’ll be turning in his grave.’

  She knew that was unlikely to be true. The Cohens were well off.

  ‘Yes, well, mine isn’t happy with me.’

  ‘What’s the problem with Dirty Dick?’ as Lee had nicknamed her father, Richard. It had been a little close to the bone for her but she’d always laughed along with it.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed.

  ‘Go on.’ Lee turned to face her.

  She talked about the things she’d encountered since working in Kalgoorlie, and Lee, equally committed to standing against injustice, listened intently. This was where their minds met and they talked long into the night.

  Around midnight they went to bed.

  She sat on the edge of the mattress. Lee returned from the bathroom in baggy shorts and a singlet.

  ‘I could sleep on the floor.’

  ‘No. It’s okay,’ she said, smiling. ‘If you’re comfortable with it, I am. It reminds me I need to buy a sofa bed. You threw me when you knocked on the door.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’d still be at home if I’d waited for an invitation,’ Lee teased, sitting opposite her on the bed.

  She stood up and pulled at the doona. Lee jumped up and grabbed an edge. Together they folded it to the end of the bed.

  ‘We won’t be needing this, we’ll only need a sheet. It was really warm last night and it’s not officially spring yet, and these old govie houses have no air-conditioning.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Lee, climbing into bed and leaning back on the puffed-up pillows. ‘The breeze is cool.’

  ‘The Esperance Doctor? It comes in most nights but it’s warm when it doesn’t.’ She slid under the sheet. ‘I bought a fan last week and laid starkers in front of it, to cool down.’

  Lee stared at her. She blushed and turned away; she fiddled with the pillows and pulled up a wayward strap on her short cotton nightie.

  ‘You sure you don’t want me to sleep on the floor?’

  ‘No, it’s okay. There’s plenty of room for us both.’

  ‘Okay, then. Lights out?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve set the alarm. I get up at eight. Do you want to sleep in?’

  ‘No, I’ll get up with you, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Okay. Goodnight Lee. And thanks for coming.’

  ‘No worries, ’night Aimee.’

  She reached up to turn off the reading light, her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her nightie. Under Lee’s gaze her nipples stiffened; flickers of warmth darted up and down her inner thighs. For a second, maybe two, their eyes locked then uncoupled as the light extinguished. Her breath quickened; she lay down, turned to the wall and curled up against herself.

  It was becoming light when she awoke. Like the world outside she lay suspended, hovering between night and day, that time when the moon and stars linger, reluctant to leave the sky, to give up centre stage to the dawn. Warmth suffused her body in a languidness of dreaming, her shallow breath fanned her parted lips, her tongue tipped her teeth. She wriggled to make room for her fingers to enter, to slide and slip into the ocean of dreams, back up to the surface of day, into the warm smell of it. Other fingers joined hers and she pressed hard against them, thrusting herself onto them, freeing her own to seek and stroke the heat now pressing against her thigh. Together they came into the dawn, fingers wet, lips touching, eyes open, wide awake.

  A tear salt-lined her cheek and Lee, hungry, lay on her, kissed her face, her throat, her nipples, her belly, her thick, hot dampness and she felt herself rise again, sink, rise, till, deaf to the world, full, she screamed and flowed the length of herself, flung out, flying.

  Slowly, she drifted back in.

  Lee’s fin
gers traced the silver lines trailing across her stomach, around her hips and the question that hung between them almost two years ago lay between them again.

  Don’t ask me, she thought, not yet.

  Over breakfast, they discussed the future.

  ‘Come with me,’ Lee said.

  ‘I can’t. There are things I need to see through.’ She thought of Kerry and Amber, Lori, Gerry and Jan, the people at Cundeelee, Mrs Clancy.

  ‘Later then. Tell me you’ll think about it.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Lee reached across the kitchen table and kissed her. ‘And then you’ll tell me?’

  She breathed in sharply.

  ‘Then I’ll tell you.’

  They both knew what Lee was talking about. Her heart pounded; it was a turning point. Where are the bugles? She smiled to herself. She thought again of Kerry and her secret, how hard it was to tell, Kerry who’d stood up for what she believed in, who was campaigning to get elected to council next month. Brave.

  Lee reached over and took her hand. ‘So what are you up to today? Am I interrupting your social life?’ Lee’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘Yes, you are actually. But you can come along if you like, you can meet my friends. Lori today and Gerry and Jan tomorrow. But, can we keep this between us for now. I’m sorry but they don’t know anything about us, you know how it is.’

  Lee did but still looked hurt.

  Aimee placed her other hand over Lee’s. This was going to take time—one step at a time—to make something good come out of bad.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stretched out on a lazyboy, Aggie reread the newspaper headline. The glaring sunshine bounced off the white sheet making her eyes water. She reached for her sunglasses and wriggled her chair further under the shade of the apricot tree.

  ‘Steele steals a seat.’ Who comes up with these headlines? she wondered, searching for the reporter’s name. Wolzak? Well, he’s thrown Kerry into the spotlight, all right, she mused. A half-page head and shoulder shot of Kerry, and the remainder of the page reporting on her election to council yesterday. A good result too, Aggie felt—the first woman to be elected to council.