She pressed the flat of her hand against the table. ‘It’s like the whole town’s trying to … I don’t know … jolly me out of my misery or something.’
‘They care about you, Alicia. I think they’re worried and this is how they show they care.’
Alicia gave a ragged sigh.
He kept his voice soft, his tone steady. ‘It’s not like they’re pushy. Everyone in this town cares about each other. You don’t find that everywhere. Plus, they’re enthusiastic but they keep their distance. Look at Evelyn. She does a lot of good. She hasn’t pushed any of the dollar people into anything. She’s calm and waits for people to say or do what they want to. She’s never nosey and God knows, I have enough secrets for her to burrow into. She’s really patient, caring, and lovely.’
Alicia sat back as if she was digesting what he’d said.
She was quiet, reflective, listening to him. ‘It’s me, isn’t it? I take their help the wrong way. I’ve been awful to Evelyn. Why is that?’
Alicia was smart and was working out that she’d been keeping everyone at arm’s length. He lifted his shoulders. ‘She’s too much like a mother to you?’ When she said nothing but her face scrunched, he continued. ‘You grew up here. You’re the same age as her youngest. She probably mothers you.’
‘You’re the same age too.’
‘But I’m a stranger. She never knew me as a kid in nappies, a kid with skinned knees, a kid to fuss over.’
Alicia looked up at him, puzzled, nothing else. ‘I should see this as a good thing?’
‘It’s one of the reasons I moved to a small town. That’s what I want for my kids.’
She moved back, blinked, stared again. ‘You want kids?’
Out of everything he’d said, why did she pick up on that? He shifted uncomfortably. He’d kept away from the past, was speaking about the future, so why did it feel as if he’d opened up one of those closely held secrets. ‘One day. Don’t you?’
She stared across the room but he didn’t think she saw anything. ‘I used to. Not anymore.’ Everything about those words was dead. Her tone was flat.
‘What changed?’
‘Paul died.’
Of course. He should have known before he asked.
He didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything he could say, and ‘sorry’ was so useless.
But she needed to talk. He could see it in the desperate look in her eyes, like a trapped wild animal, searching the room for a way out. After she’d spoken the other night she’d calmed, seemed less distressed. Maybe if he asked her about Paul, she might get rid of some of her tension and grief. He didn’t know. He’d never had to care about anyone like this. The men he’d worked with before hadn’t hurt like she was.
He couldn’t understand why the people around her didn’t talk about Paul. He’d not heard a whisper about the guy. Lachlan couldn’t think of anything worse than to lose someone you loved and have the world pretend they didn’t exist. Not that he had any experience with love. His whole life was about losing people and having no regrets. How on earth could he relate to Alicia? They were polar opposites. But he had to try. She needed something and talking was all he could do.
‘Was he a farmer?’ Lachlan asked gently after he’d finished eating dinner. Alicia had only moved her food around on the plate. Maybe she’d eaten a few mouthfuls but it wasn’t enough to keep anyone going.
‘No.’ A faint sound like amusement came from deep inside her. ‘Paul had no interest in being a farmer. That was my thing. He’s a photographer.’ She hurriedly corrected her mistake. ‘Was a photographer.’
‘He took photos?’ Lachlan slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. A photographer was the last job he expected someone in Dulili to have. He’d been wanting to learn more about the town and farming but he had no idea how he could. If someone had photos of the place, he’d be able to see it through a local’s eyes. He’d be able to learn what he couldn’t put into words. He’d be able to see why someone like Alicia loved it here and would never leave. ‘I mean did he take photos here, in Dulili?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you have any?’ He could feel the excitement bubbling inside him, even though he tried to damp it down. Alicia wasn’t going to react well to excitement. She was too upset to understand why he felt like this, and he had no hope of explaining it. Not without revealing too much about himself.
She nodded. ‘Heaps’
‘Could I see some?’ Lachlan asked the question softly, unsure of how she’d react to his nosiness. He didn’t want her being mad like she was with Evelyn but he wanted to see Dulili. He wanted to see the community he was now a part of, for however long he was here.
She looked blankly at him, as if she had no idea what he was asking.
He asked again, with explanation this time. ‘Paul’s photos. Would you mind if I looked at some?’
She winced. Asking her had been the wrong thing to do. He wished he hadn’t said anything. Wished he had his excitement under control. Wished he knew how to deal with someone who had experienced both love and grief. He had no idea.
He placed his hand across hers. He didn’t know how else to apologise. ‘If they’re too personal, it’s okay. I thought it’d be interesting to see Dulili through his eyes. I’m sorry to upset you. I didn’t think.’
She lifted her head and stared. ‘Why would you want to see Dulili? You already live here.’
Lachlan fidgeted. He didn’t know if he could explain but since she asked, he’d try. ‘I’m new but I keep wondering what it’d be like to be born here.’ Lachlan shrugged. ‘I thought his photos might show me. But don’t worry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
Shocking him completely, she smiled. Still not a happy smile but it was warm. ‘Paul loved this town. All his subjects, really,’ she murmured as she stood. ‘He’d want you to look.’
She ducked into a room that he assumed was her bedroom. The door was kept closed. She was there for a long time and he hoped she wasn’t crying. Would the photos upset her? Had she looked at them? Or was he forcing her to do something that would cause her more pain?
He got up to clear the table, leaving Alicia’s dinner in case she was going to eat something. He couldn’t sit there, waiting and worrying.
When she came out she placed a pile of albums on the table near his place. Real albums, with proper photos.
‘There are lots here. You don’t have to look at them all. I’ll wash up while you look.’
He objected to her washing up but she insisted, saying she had to do something.
He understood. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then went to look at the photos. He didn’t know if she’d looked at them since Paul had died but even if she had, he imagined it would be difficult for her to look now.
He opened the first album. Farm life. He looked at each photo carefully. Candid shots of a family working. He turned the page. His house. Bullock Hill. He looked more closely, turned back and forth between pages. Alicia was so young in the early ones but they weren’t posed photos of her, she was working in each one. They showed farming life, the childhood she’d had that consisted mainly of working but she was happy.
The photos mesmerised him. There were plants and animals, machinery, bags, boxes, people. Sunrises and sunsets, storms and dry expanses of land. Flooded, swollen creeks, and the same areas with little water at all. Dams, with sheep around them, with people swimming, filled with water, and without much water at all.
The life fascinated him. He flicked pages, went back to cross check something he’d seen before. The world drifted away, the sound of Alicia washing up hardly registering as he was swept into Paul’s world. In some shots people had strained expressions, as if life was hard but in others, they beamed. Paul had caught people unawares, showing such emotion in their expression. Alicia was in so many images, wearing expressions he’d never seen. Carefree. Ecstatic. Laughing uproariously. Watching with such a soft, gentle expression it took Lachlan’s breath away. He’d neve
r seen her like that.
Then he moved onto other albums, with different farms, younger versions of the people he’d met in the shop. Paul took incredible photos. His love for Dulili, the place and the people, was something Lachlan felt. A physical joy that invaded his body, increasing with every turn of the page.
‘These are fantastic.’ His voice escaped even as he tried to be silent. He hadn’t wanted to disturb Alicia but she stopped scrubbing the sink and turned.
Wary. Hesitant. Sad.
He pointed to the photo that had made him speak. ‘This one, is so incredible. But they all are. Thank you for allowing me to see them.’
She looked over but didn’t move her feet. He wanted her to know which photo had caught his attention.
He tapped the page. ‘It’s a photo of lambs at sunset. They’re leaping wildly on a carpet of brilliant green with the stunning sunset behind them.’ He didn’t do the image justice. It was so much more than what he said. It was life. Complete love of life. He couldn’t say that. There was no way he could say that.
‘I was there, next to him, for that one.’ Her voice surprised him. She kept speaking, stunning him when she walked towards him. He didn’t think she’d be able to look.
She smiled as she looked over his shoulder. ‘I never saw the same things he did. I saw the sunset. I was laughing at the lambs but my eyes didn’t see how completely incredible that image was.’
‘It’s a celebration of living.’ It wasn’t what he wanted to say.
She turned and nodded. ‘That was Paul. Life was … important to him.’ She sat on her chair, leaned across towards the album. He twisted it so they could both easily see.
She didn’t look as sad as she had. A light and a tiny sparkle shimmered in her eyes, although it may have been the glimmer of tears and he was imagining more.
He wanted to keep her talking, so asked, ‘How old were you?’ He pointed at that image.
She paused for a moment as if trying to remember. ‘Maybe eleven.’
‘Paul was the same age?’ Lachlan expected her to say he was older. The photos were too good for a kid to have taken.
‘Yeah. The first album was before then.’
Lachlan sat back on the chair. ‘God. Eleven and he was that good.’ His voice held all the awe that he felt. At eleven he’d never have seen life like this. Life for him then was the opposite of all Paul showed.
She made a snuffling sound and he focused on her, not his memories. She gave a half smile. ‘He didn’t know he was that good … well, he kind of did but he never made a big deal of it. He just lived and breathed photography. While I was doing jobs on the farm, he’d ride over and be there with his camera.’
It was a life Lachlan could not imagine. ‘Did he always want to be a photographer?’
‘Yes. Always.’ So much conviction.
‘You both always knew what you wanted?’
‘Yep. Me farming, him photos. We had it all planned.’
She began to talk about the past, freely. The memories were good ones. She half-smiled as Lachlan turned every page. She took him on a journey through her childhood with Paul, and looked like she was enjoying it. She reminisced, laughed, explained, talked about farming and their friendship.
Photos of herself posing when she was gawky, or when she was filthy dirty working, made her embarrassed. But then, she was always covered in dirt. It was a bit of a job hazard, Lachlan knew because working out the back was dirty.
When a couple of photos made her tear up, Lachlan didn’t make a deal of it. If she looked at the image, he waited. If she pushed his hand, he turned the page and kept up a conversation about the new images, as if nothing had happened. He let her chat or close up. It was entirely her decision. He was grateful she’d allowed him to glimpse into her world, her life.
They finished the albums and Alicia gave a deep sigh.
Lachlan wanted to see these photos every day. He didn’t want to be allowed only to see them once. They were too good to be hidden.
‘These are so good, you could put some up in the shop.’
‘What for?’
He didn’t want to say because he wanted to see them. He gave a broader answer. ‘To display them to the town. People might stop in and look. Maybe you could sell some, make postcards for tourists, or something.’ His words slowed down as her face creased into a frown. ‘If you want to, that is?’
‘In Dulili?’ She seemed to be having trouble understanding him.
‘Didn’t you want to do something for the town in the shop? Paul’s an artist. You could show his art.’ He stared gently, willing her to understand what he was trying to explain. He wasn’t doing a good job.
‘You think I can showcase Paul’s photos, here?’
He nodded.
She opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it before any words came out. One sole tear trickled down her cheek, a tiny sparkle shimmering across her skin. He tried not to watch it but it held him spellbound.
‘I didn’t think,’ was all she managed to say.
Lachlan gave her hand a squeeze. ‘His anniversary’s later in the year?’
She nodded. ‘August fifteen.’
He wondered if she might show his photos before then. Looking at them might bring her some relief and the anniversary of his death would be a difficult day for her. Would having his photos around bring her peace, or would it just make her loss all the harder to bear? He didn’t know. He had to let her make these decisions. He had no idea what would work, how she felt, or how you’d possibly move forwards with such pain. How did she keep going?
She looked up, sharply. ‘What are you thinking?’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘What are you thinking?’ His words were softly spoken, as soothing as he could make them.
She stared but her eyes roamed across his face as if she thought she might be able to read his mind by staring long enough.
She looked at the albums. Back to him. One more glance at the albums and she cleared her throat. ‘I was thinking … yes. We could display some of his photos in the shop.’
Lachlan nodded, making sure his tone was full of encouragement. ‘That would be great.’ He grinned. Then she was frowning again. He asked softly, ‘Is that all you thought?’
‘No.’ She looked down at the table, tapped her finger on the table with a fast non-rhythmic tapping that was annoying. Her fingers curled into a fist. ‘I was thinking of a gallery. Filling the walls with photos. Maybe have an opening, for everyone.’ She hesitated before continuing in a rush of words, ‘Before his anniversary. A fair time before. Is that ridiculous?’
‘What would Paul think?’ It was all he could think of to say.
She made a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. ‘He’d love it. He’d have loved an exhibition in Dulili.’ Her voice cracked on the last words and she fought back tears.
Shoving her fingertips beneath her eyes didn’t seem to stop the flow of tears. She moved her hands, twisting them on the table before her. She let the tears run but kept her head down. His chest ached but what could he do?
He found the box of tissues and moved it to the table. He slipped a couple out and pressed them into her hand. Then he made her a cup of tea. He knew tea was what you made when people were upset. They did that on TV.
He slid the cup in front of her and touched her shoulder. ‘Will you be okay?’ He wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave but since she hadn’t reached out to him, he figured she didn’t want him there, or at least would be more comfortable without him there.
She nodded and mumbled a ‘sorry’.
He didn’t need her apologising or feeling bad. ‘Don’t apologise. You need to let it out but you might be more comfortable if I left?’
She nodded as if incapable of words.
‘I’ll let myself out.’
She nodded once more. He left, hoping he’d done the right thing. Hoping he hadn’t made her sadness worse.
***
Over the next three weeks,
Lachlan helped her sort through Paul’s photos. Many of them were already digital but they scanned some of the older prints too. There were hundreds, or more likely thousands, to work through. Alicia turned it all into lessons. As well as product images, he was learning to read file names as he sorted and renamed photos while Alicia cooked. If he didn’t know a word, she’d spell it out and he’d type it in, or he’d spell it to her and she’d explain it. It wasn’t a bad system. It gave him something to work on and her distance from the images.
He could see that sometimes the memories overwhelmed her and she’d have to disappear. It made him wonder if they were doing the right thing but she seemed to be eating, smiling and even laughing more. That had to be a good sign.
Tonight they were trying to create a shortlist of the best photos but they had a very long list to cull. Eventually they whittled it down to fifty photos but there was wall space for only twenty.
‘How do we cull this further?’ he asked, worried about the deadline. They were using photos printed on canvas. They needed to upload the photos tonight or they wouldn’t be printed and delivered in time for opening night. If people bought them, fine, if not they would decorate the store.
‘We could rank them? Use the top twenty now, the others later.’ He thought if he threw up a pile of suggestions Alicia might pick one. ‘We could use the first twenty by alphabetical order.’ Alicia turned briefly but went back to cooking. ‘We could pick a theme, or colours, or places?’ He was running out of ideas.
‘I can’t do it.’ She plonked onto the chair, face tortured. ‘I can’t cull any more. It’s killing me.’ She held her head in her hands and rocked on the chair. She wasn’t sobbing but she may have been crying. He hated upsetting her. Hated seeing her cry.
He closed the laptop. Got up and turned the hot plate off with a click. He scraped the pan and served dinner. He slid a steaming bowl in front of her and laid a fork beside it. He sat back down with his own meal. ‘Eat.’
The Healing Season Page 8