by C. Fonseca
“Mmm.” Andi smiled at the excitement in Caitlin’s voice.
“Excellent, what an exceptional start to our adventure,” Caitlin said, and Andi shuddered as Caitlin’s hand brushed against her leg.
They approached a tree-lined gully, where the rusty ironbark eucalyptus towered over tea-trees, scrubland, and groves of grass trees.
“This is stunning. It’s lovely to see the grass trees in their natural environment. I’m starting to really appreciate the magic of the Victorian landscape. At first, it seemed so dry, compared to Ireland, but now I can see the details and the distinctiveness of this coast.”
“We have such a diverse mix of vegetation. I try to capture those contrasting layers in my paintings. There’s an intensity of colour here that continues to inspire and challenge me. I want people to experience colours through my eyes…the way I see things.”
“You do. You represent the landscape in layers of emerging energy.” Caitlin stared out the window; occasionally, she would lift her camera to shoot a quick photograph. Andi was aware when Caitlin’s gaze settled on her.
“I love the way you use colour. Colours have the ability to make us feel and dream, in an indescribable way. It is true that the value of any medium exists in its ability to express what nothing else can.”
Andi turned her head, astonished at Caitlin’s perception. “I like that. You make me see my own paintings in a totally new light.” She hadn’t known her long, but Caitlin seemed to understand her. Andi sighed. Or was it just that Irish charm?
“Are you okay?” Caitlin asked.
“Yes, I’m good.” Andi turned the car onto the Great Ocean Road. “We’ll be in Lorne in half an hour, unless you and your camera have me stopping every five minutes. In that case, it could take us an hour, and it could be dangerous.”
Caitlin gave her a bewildered look, but didn’t respond.
Andi teased. “I’m not leaping off these steep hillsides to retrieve your lens cap.”
Caitlin’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “To be sure.”
For the next twenty kilometres, they drove in silence. Caitlin seemed to be lost in the beauty of the surrounding landscape. The road wound along the cliff-tops, down onto the edge of pale gold sandy beaches, with views of the turquoise sea and crashing waves. It then rose towards a lookout, across river estuaries, and through lush rain forests. Caitlin reached for her camera and pleaded with Andi to pull over on the roadside.
Caitlin stood on the side of the road and brought the camera up to her eye to take a series of shots towards the coastal rock formations and the rolling green hills southwest towards Lorne.
“The smell of these trees is intoxicating.” Caitlin took a deep breath. “Eucalyptus gums?”
“Yes, this area is known as the manna gum woodland, but closer to Lorne, we’ll pass through the blue gum forests. The sweet, fresh smell of eucalyptus is incredible, especially after the recent rain.”
As Caitlin stepped back from the railing, she lost her footing and stumbled. Andi reached out, automatically, to steady her. “Got you.”
As she climbed back into the Jeep, Caitlin said, “These trees remind me of your big painting at the studio.”
“Filtered Through?” asked Andi.
“That’s the one. You’ve captured the subtleties of colour and light through those beautiful tall trunks.”
Andi smiled and rolled down her window to enjoy the invigorating scent. “Inspiration for that came from a place not far from here. It was a misty autumn morning. I wanted to build an image with a series of translucent layers. One on top of the other, showing those flaxen tones when the sun is high and doesn’t have the strength to cast many shadows—giving the whole of nature a lightness.”
“The atmospheric effects are soft, yet powerful.” Caitlin’s hand rested briefly on Andi’s arm. “Do you know the work of Will Rickson?” she asked.
“Yes, I do. I’ve seen his series on the Victorian ranges at the National Gallery. Unfortunately, I missed his retrospective exhibition in Canberra two years ago.”
Andi steered the Jeep back onto the main road, towards Lorne.
“Well, next time you’re in Melbourne, you might like to visit Isabella’s home in Kew. She has a number of Rickson’s paintings and some of his earlier sketches and drawings.”
“Are you serious?”
Caitlin laughed—the joyful sound filled the car. “I am indeed. And it will give you a chance to meet Isabella, because I am positive she would love to meet you.”
Andi absorbed this new revelation. There were many layers to Caitlin Quinn. Just like Vermeer’s paintings; when subjected to X-ray photography, they’d revealed many translucent layers. Caitlin was full of surprises and subtleties.
What else would Andi discover, peeling back her layers?
* * *
Caitlin climbed out of the Jeep to stretch her legs. Andi had disappeared around the back of a small timber cottage. Parked at the top of a steep hill in Bay Street, from Caitlin’s vantage point, the beauty of Lorne’s pale, golden beaches and cerulean waters was clearly visible.
They had driven through the main street, lined with specialist shops and numerous cafés. Lorne had the charm of a fishing village, while it possessed its share of cosmopolitan chic.
So far, the day had been clear and warm with just a light, offshore breeze. Andi appeared relaxed, content to let the day unfold organically. Caitlin suggested they lunch at Big Blue, located near the pier at the end of town. She’d read that the Mediterranean-styled restaurant was casual and contemporary. Andi had agreed immediately. It may well turn out to be a perfect day.
When she’d accidentally stepped backwards at the lookout, her body pressing into Andi—Andi’s hands had automatically encircled her waist, and she’d leaned into her shoulder. Her need to increase their physical contact was palpable, her attraction for Andi undeniable.
“I’m so sorry,” Caitlin had apologised and turned in Andi’s arms.
Andi’s expression was soft, and she lowered her gaze before looking up to settle on Caitlin’s face. Andi said, “No problem.” She smiled, her beautiful lips parted slightly, and Caitlin yearned to kiss her. Andi’s untamed spirit and sensitivity were a dangerous combination. She had been very hard to resist.
Andi bounded towards the Jeep, holding a small hessian-covered parcel. She opened the passenger door for Caitlin. Her eyes sparkled, full of intrigue.
“And what have you got there?” Caitlin asked, pointing to the small package.
“I’ll show you later, but now, I’m famished. I can’t wait to try the food at Big Blue.”
“Okay, then. I’m patient. Not!” She laughed and reached for the parcel.
Andi swatted her hand away and moved the parcel into the back seat, out of reach. “It’s a medium I’ve wanted to work with for a long time. The artist I just visited imports it from Afghanistan.”
“Lapis lazuli?”
“How did you know that? Can’t surprise you, can I?” Andi said. She looked a little disappointed.
“Ultramarine blue pigment comes from the lapis lazuli stone. It was used in cave paintings in Afghanistan, as far back as the sixth century.” Caitlin rattled off the information. She wriggled her eyebrows for effect.
Andi grinned, and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a smart alec.”
Caitlin pointed an index finger at her own chest. “You are in the presence of an art historian,” she said in jest. “And I love ultramarine blue. Like Frida Kahlo, I’d love a house painted exactly that colour.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to see how you use it.”
Andi hummed and drove the car back down the hill, towards the sea and the pier. “You will have to wait for that. I’m actually not sure myself.”
It had been Luc’s idea that they spend the day together, and although Andi had scowled and dismissed her brother, she now seemed genuinely happy to be with Caitlin.
She didn’t know where this would lead, but for now Caitlin enjoyed thei
r connection.
What was their connection? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet. Bad choice of words. At least she was sure of two things—Andi would be exciting; she was complicated and passionate. But Andi would also challenge Caitlin; she couldn’t be complacent.
* * *
“May I suggest the Remarkable Gibbston Pinot Gris? It is an elegant blend from New Zealand and will accompany your meal beautifully.”
Caitlin nodded her approval.
Their waiter was a young, blonde Greek, who introduced himself as Kosta. He looked as if he’d be more at home on a surfboard than in the uniform black and whites he wore. Kosta filled their water glasses, collected the menus, and made his way towards the bar.
Andi and Caitlin were seated outside on the terrace, under a veranda extension that sheltered them from the afternoon sun. It allowed them an unrestricted view of the long, wooden pier, the bay, and the incoming waves.
“This is a beautiful spot, Andi,” Caitlin said. She stretched her arm along the table towards Andi. “It’s particularly lovely with you here.”
Andi studied Caitlin and held her gaze for several seconds before she looked away.
Andi looked enticing in a fitting, short-sleeved, red T-shirt and faded blue jeans. She sat with her legs crossed at the ankles and had sensibly worn a pair of green Gore-Tex boots in preparation for their afternoon walk to Sheoak Falls. Her sleeveless down vest hung on the back of her chair.
“Can you tell me about where you are from?” asked Andi. She folded and unfolded her cloth napkin. “Tell me about Cork…”
“Of course. What would you be wanting to know?”
“About your hometown, where you grew up. About your job at the university. Anything.” She smiled and caught her bottom lip between her beautiful white teeth. “You seem to know much more about me, and I’d like to know you better.”
Their waiter placed two glasses of wine on the linen tablecloth. He hovered near Andi, unnecessarily rearranging the cutlery and clearing the extra place settings. His assiduous attention to detail went unnoticed by Andi.
After he finally left, Caitlin said, “I think our waiter has a bit of a crush on you.” She inclined her head towards his retreating figure.
Andi glanced his way and shrugged, clearly not interested.
“So, have you ever been to Ireland?” Caitlin sidestepped Andi’s request for information.
Andi shook her head. “The only time I ever travelled to Europe was to Portugal, when I was eight years old. My grandpa died, and we flew over for the funeral.”
“I’m so sorry, Andi.”
Andi sighed. “I would have loved to meet him. I have his name. I mean his name was Andrés. He was an artist too.” Andi’s eyes sparkled. “But that’s another story, and you are telling me yours.”
“Okay. But I would like to hear about your trip to Portugal on another occasion and about your grandparents,” Caitlin said and tasted the wine. “Hmm, this is good. Well, where should I start? My father’s parents were from Cork City. Grandfather William was a Protestant landowner and shipping merchant. My mother’s family, on the other hand, came from the Dingle Peninsula, in County Kerry. The O’Riordens were hard working Irish Catholics—sheep farmers. Isabella is my mother’s aunt. She was born and lived in County Kerry until she left home at twenty-one.”
“You are from a mixed bunch,” Andi said. “I’ve read about the Dingle Peninsula and the warm water from the Gulf Stream.”
“That’s right, it’s on the edge of the Atlantic. Parts of the coastline here remind me of Dingle Bay. Except it’s very, very green, and there are loads of sheep. But, like this area, full of friendly pubs, music, and tourists in summer.”
“Just like Hakea?”
“Yes, a bit. The range of mountains on the peninsula is much higher than anything you have here. It dominates the landscape. Then, of course, we have the Blasket Islands that lie to the west. It’s stunning, Andi. Maybe one day you will want to visit that part of the world?”
“It sounds incredible. I would love to see Ireland—one day.”
“Then I am sure you will,” said Caitlin. She enjoyed this version of Andi—enthusiastic and bubbly—and Caitlin hoped she was partly the reason why.
Their food arrived and smelled divine; her stomach rumbled.
“Can I get you another wine?” asked Kosta. Caitlin glanced towards Andi, who shook her head.
“As much as I’d like to, the combination of sun and the fact that we’re hiking this afternoon makes it a no for me,” Andi said. “Thank you. It is a lovely wine.”
“Thanks, Kosta. This spread looks wonderful,” Caitlin said, a little reminder that Andi wasn’t the only one at the table.
“My pleasure. Please, enjoy and let me know if I can be of any help.”
They had chosen a selection of mezze to share: freshly shucked oysters with cider and shallot vinaigrette; chargrilled calamari; spicy lamb bourek with mint yoghurt and salsa verde; and a salad of watercress and asparagus, with feta, hazelnut, and tarragon dressing.
Caitlin lifted the half shell to her mouth and slurped the succulent, salty oyster straight from the shell. She licked her lips. “Oh, this is exquisite.” She did the same again, but instead of putting it in her own mouth, she held it in front of Andi’s lips. “Here, try this.” Scrumptious and seductive, just like Andi, Caitlin mused.
Andi leaned forward to delicately take the plump oyster into her mouth and swallowed it whole. She dabbed away the vinaigrette that threatened to drip onto her clothes. “Mmm…yum. It is delicious.” She reached for her glass but would not meet Caitlin’s gaze. “How did you get into art history?” Andi asked as she concentrated on the plate in front of her.
“When I was seven, Isabella gifted me an annual subscription to The Great Masters of Art. Mother and I would read about a different artist every week, and I would scour through the pictures over and again. That was the beginning…and the rest is history.” Caitlin winked. “Okay, okay. I started out following my father’s footsteps, studying English literature. However, it wasn’t long before I realised I should have stuck with what I loved all along. I did my MA in art history majoring in Celtic and Renaissance studies. Soooo…then I did my Ph.D. in international arts.”
“So I should address you as Doctor Quinn?” Andi asked cheekily as she pushed her plate away. “I’ve eaten too much.” She patted her trim, toned midriff.
“You can address me any way you like.” Caitlin smiled and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously. “But really, Caitlin will do.”
“Seeing we didn’t leave many scraps for the seagulls—I think we should go for that walk I promised you.” Andi stood, gathered her belongings, and picked up the bill. “But I do want to hear more, just let me settle our bill.”
Caitlin grabbed the paper from Andi’s hand. “No, lunch here was my suggestion and meant as a thank-you for being my tour guide today.”
When Caitlin returned, she scanned the terrace for Andi and spotted her with a casually dressed man. He was leaning towards her, unsteady on his feet. Hearing his voice raised, she walked towards them quickly.
“Just one drink? My friends and I would love you to join us,” he said as he moved closer to Andi. “I’m Matt.”
Andi backed away and smiled weakly. “Thank you, but we were just leaving.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. You really are gorgeous,” he slurred. “And sweetheart, I feel so bad that you’ve been sitting here all alone,” he said, lurching towards her again.
“Actually, she’s not alone.” Caitlin stepped beside Andi and draped her arm across her shoulders in a protective way.
“Hi.” A relieved smile formed on Andi’s face. “Are we ready to go?”
Caitlin turned towards Matt, who stood propped against the table.
“Definitely,” she said.
“Okay love…no worries,” he muttered. “What a waste.” He walked away.
“Really? I don’t think so.” She shook her hea
d and threaded an arm through Andi’s. “How about that hike?”
CHAPTER 10
As they drove out of Lorne, through the beginnings of lush, green woodland, they left a light cloud of brown dust in their wake.
Andi pointed towards a steep, winding track that headed up through a stand of tall trees. “That’s where we’ll be climbing in a few minutes.” She glanced at Caitlin. “It should take us an hour to the falls and then a little less on the way back. The track down may be a bit slippery after all the rain we’ve had.”
“I’m up for it. Although I am glad to be wearing sturdy walking shoes.”
As they pulled into a small parking area, Caitlin rolled up her window and pushed open the passenger door.
Andi breathed in and filled her lungs with the rich, sweet scent. The air was slightly damp, cool, and clear. She gathered her gear and secured the car as she explained the route they would take through the rainforest of myrtle beech and blackwood trees. She watched as Caitlin slipped on her daypack and tied her rain jacket around her waist.
They walked the first ten minutes in silence, through the understorey of low ferns and mosses. Soft, dappled light illuminated the forest floor. Andi smiled as she noticed Caitlin’s camera around her neck. She always had it ready.
At this stage of the hike, Andi followed just behind Caitlin, allowing her to set the pace. The track was clearly marked and signposted. There was only one way to go.
It was so easy being around Caitlin, but it hadn’t escaped Andi’s attention just how often Caitlin initiated physical contact between them. It was in a friendly, easygoing manner. Nevertheless, her touch couldn’t be underestimated, and it made Andi’s heart race. Caitlin was not subtle in communicating her interest, and it would be so easy for Andi to let her guard down, to give in to the shared attraction.
Caitlin turned around and pointed the camera at Andi. Click. Click.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, and snapped more photographs. Click. Click.
Andi held her hands in front of her face. “Hey…you’re supposed to be taking photos of nature,” she protested. “You know, the trees, the ferns, the birds. I’m shy.”