Nineteen Letters

by Jodi Perry

  ‘No. Your grandparents left this place to your mother in their will.’

  Christine hasn’t been back since Ma’s death, but she won’t sell it. She was scarred by what happened that day, but this place was her home once. It’s all she has left of her parents, and I know she’ll never part with it.

  I thought about asking Christine for the keys to get inside, but I didn’t want to push my luck. Just having Jem here is a huge step. I tried for months to get Jemma to come back here after Ma’s death, but she flat out refused.

  We walk down the front path towards the house—her eyes are everywhere as we step onto the large wraparound verandah. Ma and Pa always sat out here of an evening. In the summer months, they would sit side by side drinking iced tea, and Ma would make homemade lemonade for me and Jem. On colder nights, they would sit under the multi-coloured blankets that Ma crocheted. Jem and I had our own blankets as well.

  ‘They were Ma’s and Pa’s rocking chairs,’ I say as she runs her hand over the back of one. ‘We used to sit on that swinging chair down there.’ I turn my body slightly and point to the far end of the verandah where the long wooden bench seat hangs from the roof by large chains. ‘Or occasionally we’d lie out on the grass and look up at the stars.’ I give her a moment to absorb it all before I speak again. ‘Come check out the view from the back of the house. You can see over the entire orchard from up here.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She smiles when I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her in that direction. When we reach the rear of the house, she comes to a sudden stop.

  ‘Wow.’

  I’m pretty sure I wore that same look of amazement the first time I came here. She takes a few steps forward and her hands grip the rail as her eyes take it all in. Not only can you see the rows of perfectly aligned apple trees, but also the rolling green hills nestled behind them. The view from up here is nothing short of postcard-worthy. ‘It’s breathtaking.’

  ‘It is,’ I reply, but unlike her, I’m not talking about the landscape. My eyes are firmly fixed on her.

  When I hear her stomach growl, I look down at my watch and see it’s almost midday. ‘Shall we have our picnic down by the river? It’s only a five-minute walk from here, it’ll be just like old times.’

  She smiles. ‘I’d like that. I was hoping we’d get to see the river.’

  I have so much to show her. I’m going to drag this day out as long as I can. Who knows when I’ll get this opportunity again?

  I leave her standing on the back verandah while I collect the picnic basket and a blanket from the car.

  As we head across the grassed area towards the apple trees, she points to the large wooden barn. ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘That’s where Pa used to store his machinery and the apples after harvest.’

  ‘It’s big.’

  Although the trees haven’t been tended to for some years now, they’re in surprisingly good condition. I’m saddened to see all the rotten apples scattered on the ground beneath the trees though, it’s such a waste.

  ‘What was that?’ Jemma asks, grabbing hold of my arm.

  ‘What was what?’

  ‘That rustling noise.’ Coming to an abrupt stop, I listen. When I hear the noise she’s referring to, I turn my head in that direction. ‘Do you think it’s a snake?’ she asks, moving closer to my side.

  ‘Not this time of year, it’s not warm enough’ I say, chuckling. ‘Stay here. I’ll go check it out.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ The way she latches onto my arm tells me she’s frightened.

  ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ she says, straightening her shoulders.

  ‘Right.’ I chuckle again because I know damn well she is.

  We make our way down a few rows and the noise gets louder. Placing my hand out, I halt her. Crouching down slightly, I smile when I see a baby goat feasting on the apples that have fallen from a tree.

  ‘Shh.’ I place my finger against my mouth, and gesture for Jemma to follow me with my other hand. ‘Come,’ I whisper.

  All sign of fear disappears the moment the baby goat comes into view. ‘Oh my god, it’s so cute,’ she says in a soft voice. ‘It’s so tiny.’

  A loud bleating sound comes from behind us, making Jemma scream and jump behind me. I throw back my head and laugh when I see two larger goats standing a few metres away.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ she says, slapping my arm. I beg to differ; I find it hilarious. When the larger goat takes a step closer and releases another bleating sound, Jemma’s fingers dig into my flesh. ‘Shoo them away. Please shoo them away.’

  ‘You’re not afraid of goats, are you?’

  ‘No! Umm, yes. Crap, Braxton, do they bite?’

  ‘They must be wild goats. They’re probably trying to get to their baby.’

  She pops her head out from behind me. ‘That one has horns.’ We hear another bleating sound, and see a few more goats approaching from the other direction. ‘Crap, there’s more. They’re surrounding us ready to attack.’ I can hear the strain in her voice, but I still can’t help but laugh.

  ‘They’re not going to attack us,’ I say, trying to calm her.

  ‘Get them away!’ She’s starting to panic now, so I snap into action.

  ‘Scram!’ I yell, taking a step forward and flicking my free hand out in front of me.

  I expect them to run, but that’s not what happens. Instead, to my amazement they all fall onto their sides like a pack of dominoes, their stiffened legs protruding from underneath them. It’s such a comical sight, I have no control over the loud laugh that spills from my mouth. That is until Jemma speaks.

  ‘Oh my god, you killed them,’ she cries. For a split second I think I have as well, until a few of them move, thrashing their bodies around trying to stand. The rest quickly follow. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. Have I just been punked by a small tribe of goats?

  ‘What the hell just happened?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I turn to face Jemma and see the same stunned look on her face.

  ‘You saw that, right?’ If she wasn’t here to witness it, I could have sworn I was hallucinating. ‘Did they fake their own deaths?’

  ‘I think they fainted,’ she says. A smile tugs at her lips moments before she covers her mouth with her hand and starts to laugh. It starts off as a giggle but soon turns into a full-on belly laugh. It’s infectious. When she snorts, I lose it to the point that tears fill my eyes and my sides hurt. It feels so good to truly laugh again, but more importantly to hear Jem laugh.

  We’re both still chuckling as we continue down to the river and hear the trickling of the water as we approach.

  ‘Wow,’ she says when the river comes into view. ‘It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.’

  ‘It’s pretty special,’ I agree as I lay out the blanket and picnic basket and follow her towards the water’s edge.

  ‘I love that about your letters,’ she says as I stop beside her. ‘The way you describe things … I swear if I close my eyes, I can almost picture everything.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying them. Do you want to hear something interesting?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I did some research on the human brain after the accident, and found out that we only remember twenty per cent of our lives. And out of that, it’s usually the poignant moments from our past that stick with us … things that stood out at the time. You’ve been such an important part of my life, Jem, so it’s only natural that my poignant moments involved you.’

  ‘Wow. Only twenty per cent? I thought it would’ve been more.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I bend down and pick up a pebble from near my feet, then skim it across the water. As kids, Jem and I had competitions to see who could get the most bounces. I usually won, but there were times I purposely threw a bad one so she could beat me. I would never admit that to her, though. She used to have a fierce
competitive streak, and she would have hated it if she knew she hadn’t won legitimately.

  She bends down and picks up a pebble. ‘Can you teach me how to do that?’

  ‘Sure. Hold it in between your forefinger and thumb.’ I try to ignore the feelings that well up when I wrap my fingers around her hand to reposition the pebble. My eyes flick to hers and I find her staring at me, but I look away. It’s so easy for me to get lost in those big brown eyes of hers, and I’m worried I’ll do something stupid, like try to kiss her. ‘Try to keep it at that angle when you throw it, so it skims across the surface of the water, instead of sinking.’

  Her first throw is a flop and the pebble sinks straight to the bottom, but the steely determination of my old Jem shines through as she picks up pebble after pebble until she masters it. I love that although she’s a different person from the one she once was, there are still some characteristics of the old her present.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she asks, leading me back to the picnic blanket.

  ‘Starved.’

  ‘Good. I’ve packed plenty.’ She reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a container that’s filled to the brim with sandwiches cut into triangles. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I went with ham, cheese and lettuce.’ I see a grin form on her face.

  ‘I love that my letters have given you back a piece of your past.’

  ‘I’ve read them so many times I’ve lost count.’ She sighs as her gaze moves down to the container on her lap. ‘I don’t want them to be just words on a piece of paper … I want them to be memories so familiar they almost seem real.’

  ‘They are real,’ I say, reaching for her hand. When she lifts her face to meet mine again, the sadness I see in her eyes tugs at my heart. ‘Everything we shared was real, Jem.’ I blow out a long breath and force my voice to remain steady. ‘It was real,’ I repeat, squeezing her hand.

  We eat our lunch in silence, just enjoying the scenery, the sunshine, and each other’s company.

  ‘I made you something special,’ she says, when we’ve finished eating the sandwiches. She reaches into the basket again and pulls out a dish wrapped in a red-and-white cloth.

  ‘I asked Christine for Ma’s recipe …’ She removes the cloth and reveals a delicious-looking apple pie.

  ‘It’s Ma’s recipe?’ I ask, sitting forward and rubbing my hands together.

  ‘The apples might not be as good as the ones here on the farm, but I followed the recipe to a tee. Christine helped me with the pastry, though. I hope you like it.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s delicious.’ I smile from the pie to her. ‘Thank you for going to all this trouble.’

  ‘You’ve been so good to me, I wanted to do something nice for you.’

  I watch as she cuts a large piece and places it on one of the red plastic plates she’s brought. ‘Hold on, let me get you a fork,’ she says, rummaging around in the bottom of the basket.

  ‘Thank you.’ I don’t know if it’s because it’s Ma’s recipe, or the fact that Jemma made it, but I find myself moaning as soon as the first bite is in my mouth. ‘Mmm.’

  A smile tugs at her lips as we eat, which makes me even happier.

  Once I’ve had a second helping of pie, we pack everything back into the basket.

  ‘Would you like to go for a walk along the river bank? Like we did when we were kids?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Standing, I help her to her feet.

  ‘See that tyre on the ground under the tree?’ I ask. ‘That used to be our swing. The rope must’ve eroded in the weather.’

  ‘That’s a shame. It’s a beautiful tree, though.’

  ‘It’s a willow.’

  ‘It would be a great tree to climb … well, maybe not for you.’ I can’t help but chuckle at her comment, and at myself. ‘I love that I know things about you that the old me didn’t know.’

  ‘It’s a lot easier to confess your fears on a piece of paper, I suppose.’

  She stops walking and points towards the water. ‘I think I just saw a fish come up to the surface.’ My eyes follow her hand. ‘There it is again.’

  The excitement in her voice has me grinning. A fish? That’s a long way off from what she thought the first time she saw that when we were kids.

  ‘It’s a platypus, not a fish, or the Loch Ness Monster.’ I smile to myself as I think back to that day, all those years ago.

  Her eyes are trained on the river, waiting for it to reappear. ‘The Loch Ness Monster?’

  ‘Just a myth,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Keep your eye out along the water’s edge and you may see one out of the water. They usually make their burrows along the water’s edge.’

  ‘Okay.’ She looks at me and matches my smile before moving her gaze back to the river.

  We walk along in silence for a few minutes, until she asks me the question I’ve been dreading. ‘Braxton … What happened to Ma?’

  I know that my reply is going to upset her, but I have to tell her. ‘Pa’s death broke her.’ I tug at the collar of my shirt just thinking about it. ‘The funeral was the worst. Your father and I had to help her into the church, she could barely walk.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ Jemma says.

  ‘It was. I’d never seen her so distraught. She was always such a happy person. At the burial, when it was time to lower the coffin into the ground …’ I exhale a long breath before continuing. ‘She threw herself on top of it, begging him to take her too.’

  ‘Oh my god.’

  ‘Your mum stayed with her on the farm for a while. She tried to get Ma to come back to the city and live with them, but she refused to leave. The farm was her home, and her connection to Pa.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’

  ‘We travelled back to the city that night with your father. I held you in my arms while you cried yourself to sleep.’ She stops walking and turns to face me, giving me her full attention. ‘Later that week, we got a call from your mother.’ I fall silent. That morning still haunts me.

  Stephen was in a meeting at work, so Christine called us. Jem was in the shower, so I was the one who took the call. I’m grateful for that, because Christine was screaming hysterically into the phone. I could barely make out what she was saying. I’d never heard her so distressed. She won’t wake up … She won’t wake up, she’d cried into the phone. Oh god! Somebody please help me … She won’t wake up.

  I’d never felt as helpless as I did in that moment. We collected Stephen, and the three of us drove straight out to the farm.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She’d gone in to wake Ma up that morning, and she’d …’ Jem can already tell where I’m heading with this because her hand comes up to cover her mouth again. ‘She’d … umm … passed away in her sleep. The coroner said she’d had a heart attack, just like Pa. She wanted to be with her husband, and she got her wish.’ I swallow hard, and when I see Jemma wipe the tears from her eyes, I instinctively pull her into my arms, resting my chin on the top of her head. ‘Your mum was never the same after that day.’

  She doesn’t reply but her grip on me tightens.

  ‘I can’t believe how many stars are in the sky tonight,’ Jemma says as we lie on the blanket staring up into the darkness. She seems in no rush to leave, and I’m enjoying my time with her too much to even suggest it.

  ‘I know. You never see this many stars in the city.’

  The serene trickling sound of the running river fills my ears, and crickets chirp in the distance. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in months.

  ‘Oh, did you see that?’ she says, pointing up above.

  ‘A shooting star.’ It’s quickly followed by another one. ‘You need to make a wish.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s custom to wish on a shooting star.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I turn my face in her direction and in the moonlight I see her eyes clenched shut. It makes me think back to the first time she saw a shooting star when we were kids. The only
difference is that she voiced her wish out loud that day—I’d give anything to know what she’s wishing for now.

  Sadness washes over me when we finally decide to pack up and head home. I’ve missed this place, and being back here with Jemma has given me some peace, and I think it has done the same for her. I can only hope she allows me to bring her back again one day. I know in my heart Ma and Pa would want us here.

  ‘It’s a good thing that it’s a full moon tonight,’ I say as we walk back up towards the farmhouse.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to see. I didn’t even think to bring a torch. I wouldn’t make a great boy scout.’

  She doesn’t even flinch at my response. The joke is totally lost on her, but maybe one day I can share it with her. One day.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asks as I pull over to the side of the road and position the car so the headlights shine into the paddock ahead. I had hoped to bring her here before it got dark, but our time together by the river was too perfect to rush.

  ‘I have one more thing to show you before we head out of town.’

  She doesn’t reply, but she climbs out of the car and allows me to lead her to the barbed-wire fence.

  ‘What do you want to show me?’

  It’s dark out, but with the moonlight and the high beams we should be able to see. I hope this goes to plan.

  ‘Can you do me a favour?’

  ‘Sure …’

  ‘Place your hands on either side of your mouth … like this.’ I move my hands up towards my face mimicking what I want her to do. She hesitantly does exactly as I ask, but I can tell she’s confused by my request. ‘Perfect. Now, call out “Tilly-Girl” in the loudest voice you can.’

  I find myself smiling when her eyes widen. ‘She’s still alive?’ she asks as her head snaps in my direction. ‘I’ve been too afraid to ask you what happened to her.’

  ‘She’s old, but most definitely alive. The couple who own this farm, Mr and Mrs Talbot, were friends of your grandparents. They offered to care for Tilly-Girl until you were ready to come back.’

  Her hands drop down by her side. ‘I abandoned her?’