The Healing Season

by Catherine Evans

  ‘Are you reading every night?’ she asked him.

  He nodded. He went to say more, then stopped himself. Then thought it through again. He had to trust her. He had to offer her his every thought, dream and fear. He swallowed his doubt and spoke. ‘All week I’ve been wishing there’d been someone to read these books to me when I was a kid.’ He shook his head and tucked back into eating. Before he lifted the next forkful to his mouth he added, ‘But that’s silly.’

  Alicia touched his arm. ‘I feel like that. When I read to Carol’s kids I always wish that had been part of my bedtime routine. There’s a sort of magic in sharing a story.’

  Lachlan nodded. ‘It’s another world.’ His heart filled. She did understand him. He didn’t think anyone had ever understood him before.

  ***

  The next afternoon she was standing in front of one of the photos in the shop when Lachlan wandered in after locking up out back and stopped beside her.

  ‘You okay?’

  She nodded but her gaze didn’t leave the photo.

  ‘This is you and your folks, huh?’

  ‘Yep.’ It was the photo of the three of them walking through a paddock of hay bales on different tangents. She often stopped to stare at it, and wish that Lachlan had never chosen it to be printed. If only she’d had the courage to check his selections.

  ‘You like this one, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not sure that ‘like’ is the right word. ‘Haunted’ might be better.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because look at us.’ So much despair in those words and she couldn’t hide it. She waved her hand. The photo had always bothered her. She was the odd one out. Her parents would end up together and she was off heading to a totally different place.

  ‘Want to know what I see?’

  She faced him. Her expression must be one of horror because he took a tiny step back from her.

  ‘It’s not so bad, Alicia.’ His voice was soft and should be comforting.

  She wasn’t sure she could trust him not to hurt her. She drew in a breath and let it out in a loud exhale. Whatever he said couldn’t hurt her more than the image already did. And this was Lachlan.

  She wanted to know what he saw. It might tell her why he selected it as one of Paul’s best shots. ‘Go on,’ she said rather ungraciously.

  ‘The light in this image is incredible. I bet it was summer, hot, just on sunset when the light gets kind of weird. Maybe a storm was brewing. It’s that eerie kind of light. I see two independent people, adults, whose paths will meet but they’ll most likely remain independent. They’re both strong, hard-working and focused. They’re striding across the paddock, dirty after a long day, maybe moving quickly to beat the storm.’

  Her inhaled breath was sharp in her lungs, like there were shards of glass in the air. She’d always seen two people who’d come together but she’d never thought anything else. It was an interesting interpretation, and fairly accurate.

  ‘And I see another independent soul, forging her path alone. She’s also strong, hard-working and extremely focused, like the adults. She’s learned so much from them. She doesn’t slow. Doesn’t walk their path. She doesn’t move towards them because she’s independent too. She knows where she’s going—and nothing will stop her.’

  A rock rested on her chest, crushing her every breath and heartbeat. ‘Why don’t they call for her? Why don’t they help her?’

  ‘Because she doesn’t need them. They know her. They know what gives her strength.’

  How on earth did he see that? How did he know that? It wasn’t right. ‘What if they’re wrong?’ A sob rose but was blocked by the rock’s constriction. Her chest expanded further, still containing the sob. She would explode any moment.

  Lachlan’s hands rested on both her shoulders and his body shielded her. The warmth of him soaked into her back, loosening some of the tension caught inside. ‘They aren’t wrong.’ He whispered those words but not faintly. They held strength and power and conviction. They gave her strength.

  She nodded. He knew her. Did that mean he understood her parents too? Was what he said true? Maybe, just maybe, it was. She dared to hope, clinging to his words. She trusted him. He had to be saying the truth. When she looked at the photo through a different view, the rock inside her shattered and air filled her lungs. She breathed freely and deeply.

  ‘I’ve always been like that.’ Her admission was rather feeble, because she still wasn’t sure he was completely right. But he was right about her.

  Lachlan didn’t move and said nothing. It gave her the space and the confidence to think more, to wrestle with honesty and find her truth.

  ‘I’ve always hated being told what to do. I had to learn everything the hard way. Butt heads over every little thing. I’ve always been like that.’ She was surprised at the revelation, although it should hardly be anything new. She’d known this all her life but hadn’t acknowledged it, particularly in her relationship with her parents.

  ‘It’s not surprising.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Lachlan pointed at the photo, to her parents. A weak sound escaped her as she realised what he was saying. Her parents made her who she was. He had to be right. She couldn’t leave the picture there anymore. It had caused her enough anguish.

  ‘Would you help me get this canvas down, please?’

  Lachlan didn’t question her. It was as if he expected her to ask that. He got the ladder and climbed up to take the canvas from the wall, handing it gently to her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at him, thanking him for so much more than just passing the image. She hoped he understood.

  She took the canvas over to the huge roll of brown paper and wrapped it carefully. Bubble wrap went across the surface to protect the image itself. Brown paper came next, tied up with string. Then she laid it across her desk.

  ‘If you’d like me to come with you, just stop off at my place. Somehow I think you’d rather do this alone?’ Lachlan made the last sound like a question even though he knew exactly what she needed to do. He grabbed his things to head home.

  ‘Thanks, Lach but I need to do this.’

  He nodded and left, quietly, understanding her too well.

  She messed around for at least another hour before she worked up the courage to head to Bullock Hill. She should probably ring and see what they were up to but she didn’t. She picked up her peace offering and locked up quickly. She was in her ute and heading for the farm before she could second guess herself, for the millionth time.

  Heading to the house, she was struck by the familiarity of her surroundings, yet she noticed all the little differences. There was new wire on the front paddock fence. She wondered how it broke or if they’d just replaced it. The oats were looking good, and the pastures were fantastic. There were a lot of lambs in the paddock closest to the house, so they must have had good lambing. The big gum in the front yard had lost another branch and was taller than ever. Her mother’s garden was lush, with herbs and vegetables almost smothering each other.

  Visiting wasn’t like the Smiths. No riot of animals and children rushed to meet her. There was silence. Stillness. She got out, hauled out the canvas, and closed the door. Silence surrounded the house and farm. No wonder she found living in town noisy. She’d forgotten how truly quiet it was.

  The fly screen door opened with a squeak. In the heavy shadows of the verandah, she couldn’t tell who’d come outside to investigate.

  ‘Alicia.’

  ‘Hi Mum.’ She walked up the three steps onto the wooden verandah, boards groaning as she walked over them. ‘I brought you something.’ Unnecessary words since no one could miss the parcel she was lugging but she needed the words for her sanity.

  ‘Oh?’ Mum paused, as if changing her mind about what she was going to say. ‘You’d better come in.’

  She toed her boots off at the door and followed Mum inside. Memories crowded as soon as the scent of beeswax furniture polish with a hint of met
hylated spirits and lavender wrapped around her. Mum’s cleaning of the house was obsessive. The floors were mopped daily and the furniture polished weekly, on a Friday morning. Today. No wonder the scent was so strong.

  Mum led her into the kitchen. It smelled of harsher cleaning products and burned toast. She almost grinned. Cooking was never Mum’s strong point.

  ‘Cuppa?’

  ‘Thanks.’ This was more hospitality that she expected. She sniffed the air but there was no smell of baking. That was a relief. She would have thought she was in the wrong house if there’d been cake.

  She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and lined them in front of the tea canister, while Mum put the kettle on. Then she sat at the table, out of the way. The canvas was leaning up against the wall.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  She looked up quickly, and it really was Mum asking the question. Her lips were moving. Alicia nodded. ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘Everyone says the shop’s doing well.’ Mum turned back to the kettle for a few moments. Then she seemed to shiver, like someone had walked over her grave. She turned back. ‘I’m proud, Liss.’ Her words were so softly spoken Alicia was scared to breathe in case she missed them. ‘You’ve done well. Against the odds.’ When Mum finished, Alicia couldn’t get a breath into her lungs.

  She leaped from the chair and ran, throwing her arms around Mum in the hug to end all hugs. She burrowed her face into Mum’s shoulder and held tightly. She made a sound that was supposed to be ‘Mum’ but sounded more like a muffled sob. Yet she wasn’t crying. She was elated. When Mum’s arms came around her waist, she jumped up and down inside.

  The kettle screamed for attention and she stepped back, allowing her mother to make the tea.

  Alicia couldn’t believe it. She pinched her forearm and it hurt. She had to believe it.

  When the tea was made, they both sat with their hands wrapped around the mugs. Alicia smiled before she pointed to the picture. ‘I wanted to say I was sorry, for …’ She didn’t know what she was sorry for. Being hard on them. Thinking the worst of them. Not being what they wanted. ‘… for everything. I didn’t handle Paul’s death very well. It’s taken me a long time to work that out. So this is for you and Dad, as an apology.’

  A while ago, she’d have never believed she’d apologise. She always thought it was her parents’ fault but seeing things from an outsider’s perspective made her realise that people saw things differently and there were many sides to an argument. She was strong and independent, some might even say stubborn, and so were her parents. If anyone was going to break this deadlock, it had to be her. Lachlan knew what having no one was like, and she didn’t ever want to know that first hand.

  Mum didn’t move. She had an expression Alicia couldn’t determine. She wasn’t terribly expressive but there was something happening deep inside her. She opened her mouth. Closed it tight. She picked up her tea and used the mug as a shield, holding it against her mouth.

  Alicia dreaded what Mum would say, or wouldn’t say more precisely. She thought Mum was the softer parent and expected her to apologise long before Dad but she hadn’t considered Mum not saying anything at all.

  But she’d made half a start earlier about the shop. Surely it wasn’t too much to expect that she’d … what? What do I want? Alicia wished she knew. She wanted an apology. She didn’t want her house back, not now. She didn’t want to play happy families but it would be nice to be a family. She wanted to know she was loved. Not abandoned by her folks.

  ‘We didn’t handle it well either. It was the shock.’

  A sharp inhalation at the words burned its way down Alicia’s chest. This was as close to an apology as she’d get and it was more than she expected but less than she really wanted. She’d never get what she really wanted, that wasn’t who her parents were. This was enough. Enough to know she was loved. Still.

  ‘It was.’ Alicia sipped her tea quietly but inside, she was whirling with excitement. An apology. Wow. We are going to be okay. Alicia placed her mug on the table and prised her hands from it. She stood and passed the canvas to her mum.

  ‘What is it?’

  She smiled. ‘You have to open it to find out.’

  Mum carefully lifted the tape and frowned when she saw the back of the canvas and the wooden frame. Then she lifted it from the package and turned it around. A gasp, so wretched in sound, was torn from her. She gulped. Her shoulders rocked. She leaned the picture against the wall which the table butted up to and collapsed onto her chair.

  Oh no. She’d done the wrong thing. Mum hated the photo. Probably thought the same as she did about it.

  Another deeply sucked breath.

  Still no words. No indication how she felt. Mum was so contained. Everything locked inside. It was a wonder she wasn’t the same. She had Paul to thank for making her speak, for insisting that she told him her thoughts. Then Alicia remembered the times she’d shut down on Lachlan. Maybe she was a lot more like Mum than she knew, especially without Paul’s quiet reminders.

  A deep sound from Mum made her blink quickly and look closely. Droplets glistened on Mum’s eye lashes. But that couldn’t be. She looked again, bending a little to be sure. ‘Mum?’ Her voice was no louder than a murmur.

  ‘Liss. This is from years ago. How did you know I’ve always loved this photo? Thank you.’ Each word seemed to be prised from her. Like they hurt. Alicia wasn’t sure why.

  But Mum loved the photo. That was a good thing. Better than her loathing it.

  ‘Why, Mum?’ She hoped her mother understood that she was asking why she loved the photo, and also why she hurt so much.

  She blinked three times rapidly before breaking out of her melancholy and coming back to being the strong person Alicia knew. ‘It’s us, Lissie. It’s what I think of when I think of us. We’re all working, together. And we’re marching back home after completing an honest day’s work. Look how satisfied we all are. Even you. You’re so young, yet you worked hard. You always pulled your weight, never shirking your duties even with Paul hanging around. Your dad and I always knew you were a good one.’

  Alicia could have been in another dimension, a parallel universe. This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had in this kitchen.

  ‘Wow.’ She was almost speechless. That single word carried in the stillness for a long time. The silence was broken only by tea being drunk. Alicia was no longer uncomfortable. This was better than any other silence she’d survived at this table, in this room, in this house. Her folks weren’t big on words or feelings. Mum almost slayed her with that speech.

  Alicia had to find some words now. She needed to connect with Mum. ‘I’m so glad I brought it out for you. It’s been in the shop but I couldn’t sell it to anyone.’

  Her parents loved her, in their own way. Her family might not be close like television families but they were here. She’d done them a disservice last year. She was making amends. Then she had to admit this to Lachlan. She owed him that after he’d been so patient with her.

  There was so much she wanted to say but it all seemed unnecessary and trite. She got the feeling Mum appreciated her silent companionship more than a pile of words. That’s how their relationship had always been, silent not wordy. Her visit had mended their rift and it was as if the past was forgotten. It was the future she needed to work towards now.

  That gave her hope. She wasn’t alone. Her parents cared. Loved her. Their way. She had to live with that and not want the impossible. She had more than Lachlan ever had. Grateful. That’s what she should be. Grateful and loved.

  ‘You know Lachlan’s working with me.’ Mum nodded. ‘I like him.’ Mum smiled and her head tipped just slightly, as if she understood so much from those three words.

  ‘He’s a good bloke. We like him too.’ Mum’s words meant everything.

  She grinned, feeling silly even as she did. Mum had given her a blessing, and an apology, all in one visit. She was going to burst. If Lachlan hadn’t told her what h
e saw in the photograph, she’d never have had the courage to come here. She wanted to see him. To thank him. To be with him. That sent flurries of excitement skittering over her flesh.

  Picking up her empty mug, she reached across for the other one. ‘I’ll wash them up, Mum. Then I’ll have to go but I’ll pop out again soon.’

  She quickly washed both mugs and left them on the rack to dry. She wiped down the sink and left it clean before she turned back. Mum stared at the canvas with a smile on her face. A smile Alicia had not often seen. She wanted to capture this moment forever. She wanted to remember it during the harsh times when her mother’s love wasn’t so obvious. She wished Paul was here with his camera but she took a mental snapshot instead.

  Chapter 16

  Lachlan heard Alicia’s ute as she turned into his drive. He’d hoped she might drop in after seeing her parents but he hadn’t counted on it. She still hadn’t been inside the house. She still didn’t speak about it. And he wondered if she really was happy living in town. He waited for her on the verandah.

  When she got out of the ute, there was a lightness to her step that he’d not seen. ‘Have you been?’ he asked even though he knew she had.

  She nodded, grinning like a clown. She spun around with her arms outstretched. In the fading light he thought she looked a bit like a wood nymph from one of the stories he’d been reading.

  ‘I take it things went well?’ His words didn’t stop her spinning. She turned another couple of circles before she plonked onto the bottom step and held her head as if it was still twirling.

  ‘Mum’d always loved that photo because it represented how hard we all work. Can you believe that?’

  His lips twitched. ‘We all see something different in everything.’

  Alicia chuckled. ‘That’s not all. She said she was proud of me. She’s never said that before, ever. I thought I’d burst.’

  He looked at her, remembering. ‘I know that feeling.’

  She looked up, then grinned when she remembered. ‘So you do.’ She jumped up the three steps, whirled towards the door, then hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She stepped back half a step and he steadied her by touching her arm. She looked up quickly, her eyes luminous in the almost dark.