by Jodi Perry
By the time I step off the bus, I decide not to say anything yet. I need time to think it through and come up with a plan.
‘You’re home late,’ Christine says when I walk through the front door.
‘I decided to stay in town for a while.’
‘That’s good. Would you like a sandwich?’
‘No, I’ve already eaten,’ I reply as I follow her into the kitchen.
‘This came for you earlier,’ she says with a smile, picking up a letter and passing it to me.
Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek. Surprise lights her eyes. I feel for her even more after my lunch with Stephen today. She’s been through some hard times. First losing her parents, then her husband … in a way she probably feels like she’s lost her only child as well.
‘Thank you,’ I say, holding up the letter, but my gratitude for her runs far deeper than just that.
LETTER SIX …
Dearest Jemma,
The fourth of July 2004. It was school holidays, and this would mark our last extended stay at your grandparents’ house. By the time the next school holidays rolled around later that year, you would be working in your first part-time job. But we didn’t know that then.
July meant it was winter, and the first few days of our holiday at the farm brought rain. We spent it mostly playing board games and helping Ma bake sweets. She made us her official taste testers, and she had no complaints from me. You could say I’ve always had a sweet tooth.
The rain finally eased by day three, so we got up early and spent an hour out in the garden catching worms. When we were done, we grabbed our fishing rods—Ma and Pa had given them to us the previous Christmas—and headed to the river. I always loved that you weren’t afraid to pick up the worms and bait your own hook, like most girls were. Actually, there wasn’t much that frightened you.
The ground was muddy that day from all the rain, so Pa advised us not to take Tilly-Girl with us. You were disappointed because you’d been eager to ride her, so we took the long way down to the river, via her paddock, so you could see her.
Pa would leave his white wooden rowboat down by the bank for us during our stay. It was far too cold to swim, so we got plenty of use out of it during the winter months. You would help me overturn it and push it into the river. I would roll up my pants before stepping into the near-freezing water, and piggyback you from the shore to the boat so you didn’t get wet.
We would row to our usual spot and drop the anchor. Some days we sat there for hours and didn’t catch a thing, but other times we did really well. If we managed to bring home some trout, Pa would clean up our catch, and Ma would cook them up in a scrumptious lemon butter sauce for our dinner.
This particular day proved to be one of the slower ones. We’d been down there for a few hours and hadn’t even got a bite.
‘Holy crap,’ you blurted out suddenly, jumping to your feet. ‘Did you see that?’
‘Easy there,’ I replied, trying to settle the boat as it rocked violently from side to side.
‘Pass me the net!’
‘Have you caught something?’
‘No, but I think I just saw the Loch Ness Monster.’
I laughed when you squealed with excitement. ‘You’re crazy. There’s no such thing.’
‘I’m not lying, Braxton. I just saw it.’
‘You might have seen something, but it wasn’t that.’
‘I saw it, goddamn you,’ you snapped, flicking your foot out, connecting it with my shin. Your tone made me chuckle, which only seemed to annoy you more. ‘Oh my god, we’re going to be famous. We’ll be on the news and everything.’
I hadn’t doubted that you saw something, but I knew it wasn’t what you thought.
‘There it is again!’ you squealed. This time you didn’t bother asking me for the net, you turned in haste and grabbed it for yourself. How you possibly thought you could catch a giant creature of the deep in such a small net was beyond me, but I let you go. You were as stubborn as hell when you set your mind to something, and you wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.
I stuck my head over the side of the boat and saw that your so-called monster was actually a platypus skimming along the surface of the water.
You lunged forward in an attempt to scoop it into your net. It wasn’t your wisest move. It not only sent the boat toppling over, it threw us both into the freezing water.
I broke the surface first, and my head darted from side to side as I searched for you.
‘Jemma!’ I called out at the top of my voice. ‘Jemma, where are you?’
I was about to dive back under to search for you when you emerged. You were gasping for air and your lips had already turned a light shade of blue.
I swam the few strokes to reach you, sliding my arm around your waist. ‘The rods!’ you cried as I manoeuvred you towards the bank.
‘I’ll go back for them.’ My first priority was you. Your entire body was shivering when we finally made it to dry land. I’m sure I was as well, but I can’t remember because I was too worried about you. ‘You need to get up to the house and out of these wet clothes. I’ll come back for the rods.’
‘Okay.’ Your teeth were chattering and your movements were slow, so I scooped you into my arms and started to jog. I only made it a few metres when I slipped in some mud, sending us both tumbling to the ground.
Under any other circumstances, we both would have laughed our heads off, but the cold wind wasn’t doing us any favours. My concern for you was only escalating.
Surprisingly, there was no stern lecture from your grandparents when we finally made it back to the farmhouse. Only concern. They took us into separate rooms and ordered us to strip out of our wet, muddy clothes before wrapping us up in blankets. Pa sat us down in front of the open fireplace in the main room, while Ma rushed to the kitchen to make us large mugs of hot cocoa.
Pa went down to the river and retrieved the boat and fished out our rods, which he found further downstream.
Not a word was spoken about it again, but Ma made us stay indoors for the next few days to make sure we hadn’t caught a cold from our misadventure. My admiration for them only grew stronger after that day. They really were amazing people.
The night before we were due to go home, Ma cooked us up a huge feast. I could tell she loved having us stay there. She always got a little teary when it was time for us to go home.
Afterwards, we moved out to the front verandah. Ma placed Pa’s colourful crocheted blanket over his lap before taking a seat beside him. I watched on with a smile as he reached for her hand and wrapped it in his own. When she smiled back at him, I could clearly see the love reflecting in her eyes.
It was a chilly night, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so we opted to lie on the grass instead. Well, actually, in winter we lay on a tarp because the ground was cold and damp. You had your pink crocheted blanket, and I had my blue one.
‘There’s so many stars in the sky tonight,’ you said.
‘Mmm. You don’t see this many in the city.’
‘Oh my god, did you see that light that just flashed across the sky?’ you said, suddenly more alert.
‘Yep, a shooting star.’
‘Oh. I always wondered what a shooting star would look like.’
‘You need to make a wish,’ I said. ‘You always wish on a shooting star.’
‘I wish …’ You paused briefly and I wanted to tell you that you couldn’t say aloud what you wish for, otherwise it won’t come true. At the time I didn’t believe that anyway, but now I’m not so sure. ‘I wish that you were my forever boy, Braxton Spencer.’
You slid your hand under my blanket and laced your fingers through mine. When you turned your face in my direction, our eyes locked, and the way you looked at me was different from all the other times. It made my heart race, because if I wasn’t mistaken, it was the exact same look that Ma had given Pa minutes earlier.
For me, it was a moment that held more questions than answers.
Was it possible that we could ever be more than just best friends? I knew you loved me, because you’d told me, but it gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, you loved me in the way I secretly loved you.
I tightened my grip on your hand, as a ray of hope ignited within me. ‘I wish that too, Jem.’
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Your forever boy,
Braxton
I sigh as I clutch the letter to my chest. Does he even realise how wonderful these letters are? I love how he signed this one with, your forever boy. I’m not sure what lies ahead for us, but I do know I need him to be a part of my life.
My wish may have ignited a ray of hope in his heart on that day, and that’s exactly what his words seem to be doing for me. My wish on my first falling star had similarities to my most recent one. You’d think I would have wished for my memory to return, but I didn’t. I wished that I could love Braxton again, as deeply as I once did.
I pull out my phone and search for Stephen’s number, so I can send him a text. Can we meet for lunch again tomorrow, or one day this week? I have two more charms for you to add to my bracelet.
I open my palm and smile down at the tiny fisherman in a boat, and the silver shooting star.
TWENTY
Braxton
Bella-Rose is absolutely not what I expect when I walk into the animal shelter. I tell Diane, the manager, that I want a male, a bigger dog, easy to train. Maybe something with short hair, low maintenance. A good companion to keep me company on those lonely nights.
The dog cowering before me is none of these things. She is a small white Jack Russell with tanned patches and large, brown, pleading eyes. She looks frightened, confused, and alone—just like Jemma the day she woke from her coma.
As soon as I see her in the kennels, my heart tells me she’s the one. I have never been an impulsive person, but this dog looks lonely and afraid, which is exactly how I feel.
‘Hey girl,’ I say, crouching down so as not to intimidate her. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t hurt you.’ I speak in a soft soothing tone as I extend my arm towards her. She’s hesitant at first, but then to my surprise she takes a few steps towards me, sniffing my outstretched hand and then licking one of my fingers. ‘That’s a good girl,’ I say as I stroke my hand gently across the top of her head, making her tail wag.
‘We got her yesterday,’ Diane tells me. ‘Her owner passed away and there was nobody else to take her. Poor little girl. She’s been like that ever since she arrived. She probably doesn’t know what’s going on. But,’ she adds with a hopeful smile, ‘maybe now she’s found a new home?’
I smile in return.
When we arrive back at the house, I place her down on the front lawn and give her a few minutes to explore. At least we have a fence out here, so she can spend her days outside when I’m at work.
Bella-Rose barks at Samson when we move inside and I introduce them. She hovers under my feet from the moment I put her down. It’ll probably take her some time to settle in, but I have every confidence that she will.
I set up her bed near the back glass windows that overlook the ocean, and fill her bowl with water. There’s some leftover barbecue chicken in the fridge, so I chop it up and make myself a chicken sandwich for lunch, and give the rest to Bella-Rose. She practically inhales it, and I’m so pleased to see her eat. It gives me hope that she’s as happy to be here as I am to have her.
‘Do you want to go for a walk along the beach, girl?’ I ask, holding out the hot-pink lead I bought her. The way she bounces around with excitement makes me laugh. It looks like she has springs in her feet.
As ever, my thoughts are on Jemma. I miss her, and I wish I had an excuse to go over and visit. My feet are propped on the coffee table, and Bella-Rose has perched herself on my lap. The television is on, but I’m not really watching it.
I’m happy that Jemma’s trips to the rehab will be less frequent—that means she’s improving—but at the same time I’m gutted, because it means I will see her just a few times a week. I don’t see enough of her as it is. There’s a gaping hole in my heart that only she can fill. Part of me is missing … the best part … her.
I would love to call or go around to Christine’s and see Jemma face to face, but at the same time I want to give her the space she needs, so I send her a text.
Hi.
It’s such a lame message. I have so much I want to say—I always do—but I force myself to continue with baby steps. When she’s ready for more she’ll let me know.
I don’t expect a reply, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping for one. My wish is granted a few seconds later when my phone dings. Hi. How are you?
I’m good. How are you?
I’m good too. I’ve just bitten the bullet and found the courage to ask Christine if she has any photos of Ma and Pa.
And?
I wait for her reply, but instead of a text, my phone starts to ring. I’m smiling like a fool when I answer it. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi,’ she replies in the sweet voice I miss so much. ‘I thought it would be easier if I just called you. It takes me forever to type a response.’ She pauses and I hear her let out an exasperated breath. ‘I’m still trying to get used to this damn thing. You don’t mind me calling, do you?’
‘Not at all. You can call me anytime, you know that. So, what did Christine say?’
‘She’s gone upstairs to get them.’ I can hear the excitement in her voice. ‘After everything you told me the other day, I was hesitant to ask. I understand now why there’s no photos of them in the house. It’s obviously a painful reminder for her.’
‘Yeah. It’s a shame, but we all do what we need to do to cope, I suppose.’
‘What are you doing now?’ she asks. ‘Rachel bailed on me. She had to go back to the hotel for a video conference with a client in New York.’
‘Nothing much, why?’ I inwardly hope her question is leading to an invitation to come over.
‘You should come over and look at them with us. Christine said she has a box of stuff upstairs. Umm … that’s only if you want to. No pressure. I’m sure you’re busy. I just … umm … I know how much you cared for them.’
Her nervous babble makes me smile. Doesn’t she realise wild horses couldn’t keep me away? Not only do I get to see her, but I would love to reminisce about Ma and Pa. They were like grandparents to me as well, and I hate how taboo this subject has been since their deaths.
‘I’d love to.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ I’d do anything to see you, I want to add, but I don’t. Not expressing how we truly feel is something we haven’t done since we were kids, so it’s taking some getting used to.
‘Great. We’ll wait until you get here before we start. I’m a little worried how Christine is going to take it all.’
I agree, it could go either way, but it’s time she started to remember the good times and stop focusing on the bad. That’s the only way I’m surviving my situation with Jem.
I leave Bella-Rose happily munching on a rawhide bone, and within half an hour I pull into Christine’s driveway.
‘Hi,’ Jemma whispers when she answers the door.
‘Hi.’ God, it’s good to see her.
She moves to the side allowing me to enter. ‘Christine’s in the lounge room.’
‘Why are we whispering?’ I ask with a curious smirk.
She shrugs before answering. ‘I’m not sure if this is a good idea. She’s gone really quiet, and is just staring at the box on the table like it’s about to jump out and bite her.’
‘This is a good thing, Jem. Yes, she might get upset, but I think it will do her the world of good to remember the positive times, and stop focusing on the negative ones.’
‘You know, you’re right.’ The corners of her lips curve up into a smile. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
She reaches out and places her hand on my arm. One simple touch from her has the ability to awaken eve
ry last nerve ending in my body.
‘Hi, Christine,’ I say as I enter the lounge room, making my way towards her. Jemma was right, she does look frightened.
‘Hi.’
She remains seated when I come to a stop in front of her, so I lean down and kiss her cheek.
‘I might make us all a coffee before we start,’ Jemma says, rubbing her hands together nervously.
‘Sounds great. Do you want a hand?’
‘No. I can manage.’ She gives me a tight smile before turning and leaving the room.
‘How are you?’ I ask Christine, taking a seat beside her.
‘I’m not sure if I can do this,’ she says quietly.
‘You know you can.’ I place my hand over the top of hers. ‘It’s time. Your parents wouldn’t want this. They’d want you to remember the good times, and there were so many good times.’
She turns her face towards me and I see the tears glistening in her eyes. I can sympathise with what she’s going through, I lost a parent as well. In a way, I’ve lost them both. I don’t think I’ll ever truly get over my mother’s death, but trying not to focus on that dreadful day, and instead remembering all that we were, has helped me live on.
‘There were so many good times,’ she agrees, with the beginnings of a smile.
‘Don’t just do this for Jem, do it for yourself. Hold onto those wonderful memories because that’s all you have now. It helps … I know.’
‘You’re right.’
I remove my hand from hers, and she leans forward, reaching for the large chocolate-coloured, leather-bound box on the table. She takes a deep breath, as she slowly removes the lid.
‘My mother gave me this box the night before she died. I think she already knew that she was leaving us to be with my father. She handed it to me just before she went to bed. I want you to have this, was all she said. She hugged me so tight and told me how much she loved me. I didn’t suspect for a moment it would be the last time I’d ever hear her say those words to me.’ She places the lid down beside the box, and wipes the tears from her eyes. ‘I have no idea what’s in here. I’ve never looked inside.’