The Healing Season

by Catherine Evans

  ‘But I’m ruining your dream,’ he whispered. His heart was breaking for her.

  She moved her hand so their fingers threaded together. It seemed right to hold each other like this; they were linked together by fate, now their hands were linked.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘My dreams were gone before you arrived.’ A watery smile went with her words.

  He tugged her fingers, worried about the way she’d said that. There was a complete lack of life in her voice. ‘You have some though, dreams?’

  She nodded and immediately his fear lessened.

  ‘New dreams, yes.’ She blinked and looked directly at him. ‘I have the business. Now, Paul’s photos too. I’m working out how to make Dulili thrive.’ She gave a bit of a smile. ‘You’re helping with them.’ She squeezed his hand and he held tight. He’d never felt like this.

  ‘There’s no farm in with these dreams?’ Farming seemed to be so much a part of her, he was sure she must miss it with such an ache.

  ‘No. I have this …’ She waved the hand not holding his around her body showing the building, the business, maybe even the town. ‘… and for now, it’s enough.’

  ‘I’m the opposite.’ His voice was hollow.

  ‘How’s that?’ she asked the question with a frown and a slight bend of her neck.

  He shrugged. What was he going to say now?

  She’d given him so much tonight. In return he held his secrets so closely guarded he didn’t have a clue where to start to unravel them.

  ‘You have all these dreams. I have nothing.’ He started to unpick the knots of his secrets. ‘I’ve never had a home. I’ve moved at least a thousand times. I’ve never grown roots, or settled somewhere, or had people who care. That’s why I’m here.’ He looked at her and there was pain in her eyes. He didn’t want to add to her sorrow, she’d suffered enough. So he gave her the best cocky grin he could and added, ‘That’s what I’m looking for … and paying a buck a week for the privilege … which is ridiculous.’ He finished with a bit of a snort, trying to get her to smile.

  She took a breath and squeezed his fingers. ‘You make me realise that I have Dulili and every person here, even if I call them nosey, and I’m lucky.’

  Lachlan looked up sharply. ‘I didn’t mean to make little of all that’s happened to you.’

  She shook her head. ‘You didn’t at all. You just made me realise that although I’ve lost, I had so much. I didn’t understand that.’

  She was so generous, and he’d made a total gaff of the conversation. He got up to turn the kettle on, more for something to do than the need for tea.

  She spoke again. ‘There’s a line from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson that says, ‘Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’ I’ve always loved the line because it’s beautiful but I’d never understood it. Now I do. Thank you, Lach.’ She took a breath. ‘You understand loss. That’s why you always seem to know what to say to me, how to get me to talk.’

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

  It didn’t seem to bother her that he didn’t reply, because she kept talking. ‘Now you can share Dulili. You have a rented house that you can make your own because I’m happy here. You’ve a job, a town, and people here like you. You’re easy-going, you fit in, you learn quickly. You’re making a life and a home here and we want to keep you.’ She stood and squeezed his arm.

  She walked over to the bench and grabbed the cake tin, slicing cake and putting it on plates while he made tea.

  ‘Dulili’s like me,’ she said. ‘The town’s enjoyed good times and we want them back. We’re a little bit selfish.’

  ‘You’re not selfish.’ Quick to reassure, he touched her shoulder as he put the mug of tea before her. ‘Everyone deserves good times.’ He sat and sipped his tea, breaking off a piece of cake and eating it. ‘Don’t compare your experiences to mine. They’re different. I didn’t tell you about me to make you feel bad.’

  She grabbed his hand. ‘I didn’t think that. You just made me realise.’

  He wasn’t sure what she’d realised but he wasn’t going to ask. They’d said too much tonight. He was overwhelmed and as soon as he ate the cake and drank his tea, he’d be gone. He probably shouldn’t have made tea but he’d never experienced anything like this discussion with Alicia and the ritual was necessary.

  ‘Dulili’s lucky to have you, Lach.’

  He gave her a grin. ‘It’s that dollar I pay, isn’t it?’

  When she grinned back, he felt like a fierce storm cloud had blown by instead of causing destruction.

  ‘Yep. It’s that buck that keeps the whole town afloat.’

  Chapter 9

  Lachlan was an enigma and as much as she wanted to keep her distance, the mystery drew Alicia to him. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to know his background to see why belonging here was so important to him. Maybe she had to open up more if she wanted to learn more about him. But opening up meant taking a step toward the unknown; developing a friendship when the whole town would be calling it romance. It would also mean living. She had to start doing that. But was this too challenging? Could she become friends with him even under Dulili scrutiny? Of course the locals meant well but she didn’t want to be fodder for the town gossip trough.

  After mulling over her choices all day, she took the first step when they were closing. ‘I’m going to the pub for a feed tonight. Do you want to come along?’

  He hesitated. ‘I’m not … ummm … I should go home and change.’

  ‘Heck no. It’s the pub. I’m not getting changed. I was feeling lazy so I thought I’d go across like this.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s my kind of invitation. No fuss.’

  ‘I’m all for no fuss.’

  They locked up and headed over. When they had their drinks, they chatted about the day. Then she remembered he’d popped into the shop yesterday, a Sunday.

  ‘Did you get the magazine you wanted yesterday?’ His face was one of complete confusion, which made her smile. ‘You called to say you were going into the shop. I figured you wanted a magazine or something.’

  He chuckled self-consciously. ‘Oh, right. Not a magazine. I left my gloves there and I needed to use them at home.’

  His use of the word ‘home’ surprised her. Then her rational mind kicked in. He’d mentioned his house and called it home. For the first time. She didn’t know if it was because of their chat last week, or if he was just settling in. It didn’t matter which it was, he had a home. And she was incredibly happy for him.

  ‘Just grab a second pair. It’s no drama.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She wondered why he might need gloves and thought of all the jobs he might be doing. There was a lot to do on the place. ‘What do you do most weekends, Lach?’

  He shrugged. ‘I do stuff …’ He swallowed and started again as if he’d changed his mind about what to say. ‘Mostly I go for drives to check out the towns around. It’s an interesting part of the world.’

  ‘Oh.’ He hadn’t said what she expected and she had no idea what to say next. He drove around by himself, she guessed. What fun was there in that? ‘What do you look at?’ She wasn’t sure she even knew what was around that would interest him. It wasn’t exactly a thriving tourist destination, not like the Territory.

  ‘I spend a bit of time in Orange and Cowra. There are heaps of gardens and parks. The tourist information centre had a great brochure so I’ve been making my way through the local orchards. Went to the FOOD festival a few months back. Then there’s Bathurst with the raceway. I’ve been to shows, like agricultural ones as well as movies and theatre show things. There’s heaps to do.’

  ‘Wow. You’ve probably seen more than I have.’ In truth, she was surprised there was so much to do locally. She wondered how much she’d forgotten, or if she’d never known. Before she went to uni, she hadn’t had her licence for long, so most of her mobile life had been spent away. When you’re a kid, orchards and gar
dens weren’t something interesting, if her parents had ever taken her anywhere.

  ‘What do you do on weekends?’

  His question made her regret the choice of topic. She looked around the crowd in the pub wishing she could think of something she’d done worthy of mention. Nothing. She went with the horrid truth. ‘Recover from the week. Catch up on book work, orders, accounts, laundry, housework.’ That sounded dreadfully boring, so she fabricated. ‘Visit friends. Usual stuff.’

  Lachlan’s eyes widened at her dull list.

  ‘It’s horrific, isn’t it?’ She shrugged when he said nothing. She ran her glass across her cheeks to cool them down. ‘I lost myself. After Paul died, a part of me died too. I didn’t know how to live without him. I didn’t want to live without him.’ She looked up and met his gaze. His green eyes were calming, steady. Looking into them grounded her, similar to lying on lush grass. She became centred and relaxed. ‘I’m finding myself again. It’s just taking time.’

  He reached for her hand, the one without the glass, and brushed his fingers across hers. He didn’t grasp, it was the barest brush. ‘If you ever want to get away, you’re welcome to play tourist with me. Or tour guide for me.’ His smile was ever so gentle.

  There was nothing pushy about his touch or his invitation. She blinked back the tinge of sadness that threatened. If Paul was around they’d probably go off together looking for things he could photograph. Yet she’d never done it herself. It hadn’t even occurred to her. That didn’t say much for her mental wellbeing. She really had to get herself into better shape. Going with Lachlan would be a start. An activity to get her back into the world. And Lachlan would never know if she behaved differently to how she had in the past. She had to do something to move her life along. She had to do this.

  ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’ Her acceptance was soft but held conviction.

  He smiled and nodded to her. She returned the gesture. They were acknowledging something but she wasn’t entirely sure what that was. Maybe it was a subtle change in their friendship or an unspoken agreement to work together on their problems. It was too deep for her to work out right now and that was fine.

  They ordered dinner and ate, without any other unsettling conversations. The handful of people in the pub took turns at stopping for a chat. Alicia relaxed, feeling a bit like she was back at uni surrounded by people, noise, conversations and fun.

  She used to come to the pub a bit when she came home from uni for holidays but since she’d moved back permanently, she’d hardly been. Maybe that was a mistake. Although she doubted she would have handled the joy and exuberance of a crowd; too soon. Tonight was okay. Not too much larrikinism or drunkenness.

  As it crept past eight o’clock, she turned to Lachlan. ‘I’m going to call it a night.’ He nodded and stood to walk her out. ‘No. You stay. I’ll be right walking across the road.’

  Lachlan shook his head and nodded towards the door. It wasn’t worth speaking at the moment because the music had been turned up loud. She followed him outside where the cool night air hit her like a slap with a wet towel. ‘Wow. It’s cold out here.’ She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. ‘I’ll run across the road. You go back in where it’s warm.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. I’m heading home anyway.’

  She was surprised Lachlan wasn’t staying. It had looked like he was enjoying himself talking with the guys. Then again, Lachlan didn’t drink, so maybe he wasn’t comfortable staying in case it became rowdy. She knew so little about him.

  As they were jogging across the road, Lachlan said, ‘I’m heading to Milthorpe on Sunday for a look around. Would you like to come?’

  She ran right up to the alcove of the shop, which gave her about ten seconds to stress about the invitation. If she accepted, was she stepping beyond work mates and moving to something else? She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Although she’d already said she was interested … but so soon? She could hardly say ‘no’ but she wasn’t entirely comfortable saying ‘yes’.

  When she was at the door, she turned to look at him, realising she only had to be honest. That seemed easy until she opened her mouth and the words couldn’t be found. She closed her mouth, swallowed, and tried again. ‘Thanks, Lach but I’m not looking for anything other than being mates—’

  Before she could say any more, he held up his hand. ‘I’m not asking for anything except your company. But if you’re not comfortable, don’t worry.’

  She rubbed her hands along her arms again. ‘It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I don’t want to give you mixed signals. And I really don’t want the town pressuring you.’

  Lachlan chuckled. ‘The town aren’t coming to Milthorpe.’

  She sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘They don’t have to come. Rumours will start if we’re seen together.’

  Lachlan shrugged. ‘They’ve already started, haven’t they?’ She nodded. ‘So, who cares?’

  ‘I’ve grown up here. I know what they’re like but I worry about you.’

  ‘Worry no more. I’m big enough and ugly enough to look after myself.’ He grinned. ‘So, am I picking you up?’ His grin was infectious and she found herself agreeing and nodding.

  ***

  Milthorpe was not far away, the drive only half an hour. They headed to Blayney and it was only twelve kilometres further. They hardly had time for conversation beyond the pleasantries and the little she knew about Milthorpe.

  ‘Milthorpe has about a thousand people, so it’s a lot bigger than Dulili’s population of a couple of hundred. There’s a huge focus on heritage but I haven’t been there since primary school, so it’ll almost be as new to me as you.’

  ‘But you drive through there every time you to Orange, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She looked at him and scrunched her nose. ‘But I’m going to Orange. I drive through and never stop at Milthorpe.’

  Lachlan had a sceptical gleam to his eye and raised eyebrows. But it was true. She rarely visited little towns around Dulili. If she was going somewhere, she was going for a reason and didn’t stop along the way. She went through small towns on the way to somewhere else.

  ‘I’m not a good tourist for the local areas.’ That was a terrible defence. It was exactly why Dulili was suffering—no one visited places anymore. Everyone was used to travelling on highways and living the fast-paced lifestyle … even in the country, which had traditionally been slower-paced than cities. When had that happened? Was that why country towns were suffering?

  If Milthorpe had struggled for years, what hope did Dulili have? Although, if visitors were coming here they could easily pop over to Dulil—if Dulili had something worth seeing. She had a purpose for the day; to see if her town could benefit from this one.

  After Lachlan had found a parking spot, he pulled out a tourist brochure and opened it up at the town map. ‘So, this is Milthorpe.’ He pointed to the map while she caught flies with her gaping mouth. He didn’t notice but kept talking and pointing. ‘I usually do the walks that they suggest to get the lie of the land and then head back to see other things if needed later.’

  She recovered and chuckled. When he looked up at her, frowning, she said, ‘I am such a useless tour guide. Lead on with your map.’

  He gave a look, as if he couldn’t tell if she was poking fun at him or serious … and if he’d asked her which it was, she wasn’t sure she knew. She’d never met anyone who came to a town armed with the tourist brochure that they’d clearly studied and made a plan of attack.

  They climbed out of the vehicle and started on the first of the two village walks. She had to admit, it was an interesting way to see the town. The first walk took them past buildings of historical significance, many of which were in good condition. There was the old public school made of bluestone, built in the 1870s. Lachlan walked around the old building, commenting on how well preserved the place was. She found a sign and began reading about the old school.

  Lachlan stood beside her a
nd a sigh escaped from him.

  ‘So, you like the maps but not the signs?’ She asked the question with a chuckle before realising what she’d said. Of course he liked the maps. He could read them ahead of time and be prepared. The signs would be hard work. She mentally smacked herself for not thinking and amended her comment. ‘There’s a lot of information on here. Just take your time and let me know if there are unfamiliar words.’

  Lachlan painstakingly read the information and she waited beside him, speaking only when he asked for a word to be pronounced or explained. She hadn’t thought about this aspect of being a non-reader. So many tourist things were geared to high literacy. Why couldn’t there be tourist information targeted to a lower reading level? In country towns, that should be really important.

  A lightbulb flashed on in her mind. Dulili could have easy-to-read information signs, although … there had to be something to give information about. The light dulled.

  They walked along the trail, stopping at churches of various denominations, an oval, an old mill, the railway station, and a variety of buildings. All had signs with lots of words to tell the story of the place’s past. To his credit, Lachlan read every one. By the end of the trail, he was reading some of them aloud, even if hesitantly. At the completion of each sign they both grinned. Each an achievement and an unexpected lesson.

  They spent time in the museum, where Lachlan was fascinated by the old rural machinery, particularly the range of tractors. It was funny seeing them at the museum because quite a few she remembered operating around Dulili. Which gave her another flash of an idea, lasting only a second. Even if the gear was still around, no one would come to see it when it was already displayed in Milthorpe.

  The Wiradjuri exhibit also caught their attention. Lachlan pointed it out and asked her about the word. ‘Are the Wiradjuri your local Aboriginal tribe?’ Lachlan asked.

  ‘Yes. The Wiradjuri people lived—and still live—across a large proportion of central and southern New South Wales.’