Season of Shadow and Light

by Jenn J. McLeod

  That went well, moron.

  ‘Hey, Aido, mate.’ Derek the towie beckoned, his hand blackened with grease. ‘Lend us a hand, will ya?’ He was loosening the straps currently holding a car with a crumpled front end on the tray of his tow truck. ‘Yep, that’s it. Hold it there, Aido. Bit more. Good. Done. Awesome. Thanks, mate.’

  ‘You’re a long way from Calingarry Crossing. What’s happening?’ Aiden asked, wiping sweaty palms down the front of his navy T-shirt.

  ‘This weather’s a towie’s dream. If the idiots aren’t getting themselves stranded in flood areas, they’re being idiots on damaged roads. This one,’ he thumbed the Holden Commodore with the crumpled bonnet on the tray of his truck, ‘had a nasty altercation with a pothole before colliding with a tree out near Bluff Road. Speakin’ of nasty collisions . . .’ Derek flicked his head at Rory as she strode past the petrol bowser—un-missable pink hair headed for the un-missable orange car, the bag of bread swinging in one hand. She waved at Derek and Aiden; the arrogant grin suggested she knew gossip was in play.

  ‘I heard there was trouble on the way. What’s with the hair?’

  Aiden shrugged. ‘I’ll leave you to figure that one out. It’s stumped me.’

  As he wandered back to his own vehicle, Aiden wondered exactly how much the Saddleton-based towy knew. Rory and her father had lived tight-lipped lives. Tim Brown had been a bit weird. From the earliest days at primary school with Rory, Aiden knew the man as a miserly, over-protective father whose strong Baptist beliefs had turned Rory away from religion and into the feisty, sexy, sixteen year old who’d tongue-kissed Aiden at the end-of-school dance. Before that they’d held hands and hugged, pecked each other’s lips—that sort of teenage intimacy. Never before had there been actual tongue. They’d both been a little—make that a lot—drunk from sneaking out back to scull cheap cask wine from disposable cups. All the kids were doing it and while Aiden Egan’s strict Roman Catholic upbringing had made him less eager, Rory easily talked him around. Rory could’ve talked him into anything back then, except running away with her once they turned eighteen. Not that he got the option in the end.

  That first serious kiss had been memorable—and wet; the wetness was largely due to them smearing each other’s chins with their tongues, missing mouths altogether. Aiden’s intention was sincere, his technique lacking. Practise over the next couple of years kissing various girls, progressing to fairly serious petting sessions, had set him straight on a few female irks to avoid, namely: body odour, bad breath and beard rash.

  ‘You never learn, Egan,’ he mumbled, as his hand scraped over his chin, the stubble reminding him that any such intimacy with a woman had been far too long ago. A good imagination was no substitute. Besides, a painful experience after having peeled and crushed red-hot chillies one night had since curbed his enthusiasm for solo pleasure seeking.

  As Rory sped away, Aiden reflected on her smirk, the only familiar feature. Had he expected that time would stand still for her? Just because his life had stalled didn’t mean everyone’s life would have ground to a halt. People changed, they got over disappointments, they moved on. Time he did the same and stopped thinking he would forever be a magnet for cheating women.

  Paige seemed different. Something about her during that cow rescue had reminded him of Aurora, although in reality the two women were nothing alike in looks, nor in temperament. They were possibly close to the same age. Both had a mouthful of straight, white teeth with a small gap in the centre; only Paige’s smile seemed slightly crooked, as if she could never laugh completely. He guessed the stroke she’d talked about was to blame for that enchanting trait.

  Thinking about Paige helped Aiden shake off the confusion of the last five minutes. Maybe he’d call around and see her. He could go back into the shop and buy ice creams for everyone. Bad idea. They’d melt before he got halfway up the hill. But he wanted to see Paige—and Matilda. The tiny six year old made Aiden smile, while the mother had a way about her that left Aiden . . .

  What?

  He couldn’t think of a word to describe the feeling, but whatever it was, he wanted more. His hesitation about dropping by and seeing Paige was largely due to their last goodbye. It had been an awkward moment and he didn’t understand why. Maybe Aiden needed to start asking questions. Maybe asking more questions when he and Rene had fallen out of sync might have saved him a whole lot of grief—and money. He decided to make his way over to see his horse and maybe take up Rory’s invitation to catch up. They had a history, a good one, a fun one. Maybe her being in town would do more than pull Aiden out of the doldrums. He could make the most of Rory being back. He might even get the answers to the twenty-year-old questions that still plagued him.

  And maybe he’d bump into Paige.

  27

  Paige

  ‘Great minds.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ The unexpected voice and its owner’s appearance startled Paige. She’d been escaping a moody Alice, deciding to feed the horses some leftover toast from breakfast, when she turned the corner of the main house and walked into the woman headed in the same direction.

  ‘I was referring to the horse treats,’ the woman explained, waving a bag of bread.

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  ‘So, you’re a friend of Sharni’s.’

  Paige couldn’t see the woman’s eyes behind her dark sunglasses, and there was no rise in intonation to suggest the pink-haired woman’s words had been a question.

  No, not a friend! Strangers, freeloaders staying in your house, Paige might have said. She instead stumbled aloud over the single syllable untruth, ‘Y-yes!’

  Unfortunately, the stutter made her response sound like a lie—even to her—and Paige had no time for dishonesty; not Mati’s little white lies, nor her husband’s big fat ones that were exacerbating Paige’s super-sensitivity over her own fib just now. The two women walked in step and in silence, Paige wishing she had dark glasses too. Sunglasses and her big floppy hat would help hide any facial twitch that was, according to Lance—the lovely rehab guy with the lovely hands—common to every liar. He’d offered her some advice the day she’d been lamenting her new lopsided lips.

  ‘On the bright side,’ he’d said, ‘muscle defects like yours make it harder to detect a lie. You never know when that might come in handy.’

  Paige was confused. ‘Lying?’

  ‘Maybe recognising a lie in others,’ he offered, a little embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, and how do I do that?’

  ‘It’s all about how these muscles under my fingers work. Consciously created smiles form differently from natural ones. You’ve got a little muscle in here—the risorius.’

  Paige had wished she could feel Lance’s long fingers lazily tracing the small muscle at the corner of her lips, but that part of her face remained numb—unlike the not so numb part between her legs that at that moment was making her want to open her mouth and suck on that lovely long finger.

  ‘I’m probably boring you with the details, Paige,’ Lance said, though Lance didn’t speak. Lance crooned.

  ‘Not at all. Tell me more. I’m . . . fascinated,’ Paige returned, wondering if her mouth had twitched ‘Liar’ just then.

  If it did, Lance seemed oblivious—to the twitch, the lie, and to her inappropriate carnal thoughts about those fingers of his.

  ‘That risorius muscle tends to pull the lip oddly. Not so much up, but sideways.’

  ‘Won’t this mouth of mine also mean no one will know if I’m being genuine? I’ll simply be sneering at everyone the same way those horrid, grouchy women in the supermarket express queue snarl if you have too much in your trolley. Great!’

  He laughed. Lance had a lovely laugh to go with all his other lovely bits. ‘No, not what I’m saying. In fact, there’s another bright side if you consider the orbicularis oculi muscles that cause crow’s feet around the eyes when the zygomaticus major and zygomaticus minor muscles raise the lips of a real smile.’

  ‘Really? And
what’s that?’ Paige asked, pinching back her own smile.

  ‘You won’t have as many crow’s feet. Well, on one side anyway.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Lance, I feel so much better after that explanation.’

  ‘Give a guy a break. I’m trying to put a positive spin on things. I want to help you feel good.’

  She’d laughed aloud suddenly, actually frightening the hunky hospital worker with the Hollywood looks, who doubled as a personal trainer on weekends.

  I’ll feel good if you carry me off to bed and make mad, passionate love to me.

  She’d settle for a bit more risorius muscle massaging.

  Lance’s physio workouts had ended up being psychological workouts as well. While the twenty-something year old was way too young for anything other than her imagination, he’d made Paige realise what was missing from her marriage. There was no spark, no surprises, no laughter.

  Paige Turner had had few reasons to smile, until landing in Coolabah Tree Gully.

  Now she was being smiled at by the woman whose return to town seemed to be taking up more of Paige’s thoughts than it should.

  ‘You planning on feeding that toast to the horses, or are you going to tease them with it?’ Rory asked.

  ‘Yes, no, ah, of course.’ The hairs on Paige’s neck bristled; sarcasm always did that. Sarcasm from a stranger was ten times worse. What a shame this blast from Aiden’s past had arrived just as Paige was settling into the rhythm of country life, the soothing beat inside her overwrought body replacing the more familiar and monotonous metronome tick of life in the city. ‘I was miles away.’

  ‘Looked like it,’ the woman smirked.

  ‘I was just thinking . . .’ What would a gentle, caring man like Aiden see in a sarcastic and unpleasant woman like you? ‘Your bread looks more appetising than my paltry scraps.’

  Paige was barely finished speaking when Rory climbed the paddock fence. She made a few clucky sounds with her mouth and two of the horses launched into a trot, siding up to the fence, lips nuzzling the woman ever so gently. Paige wondered if the horse whispering demonstration was for her benefit. If so, and it was some kind of challenge, she had no intention of accepting.

  An annoying ringtone sounded and the two horses startled. Rory answered her phone, mumbling something into cupped hands and turning her back on Paige. Feeling slightly intrusive, and more than a little unwelcome, Paige slipped away, back to the privacy of the house she was suddenly feeling extremely awkward about sharing with Sharni. The mysterious landlady was back and she was definitely all female. As for first impressions, the unexpected pow-wow in the paddock just now, and the way Rory simply wandered off towards the sad pony in the tartan coat, left Paige with an uneasy feeling on her walk back to the house. Seeing Aiden on the veranda with Alice fixed that.

  ‘Hello! I didn’t know we had a visitor.’

  ‘I came to see Rebel. And to give you this.’

  On the top step was a flat, plastic crate, the type the baker used to deliver loaves of bread. This one was laden with vegetables.

  ‘Fresh from the garden. Plus a few frozen meals. Pub leftovers, but all good.’

  ‘That’s very generous and good of you to bring them over. We appreciate the thought, Aiden.’ Alice’s thanks sounded very final, Paige was half-expecting the next line to be: Now, be a good boy and toddle off.

  ‘I figured the cupboards could do with some restocking. One thing I’ve learned since getting to know my cousin is that cooking does not run in the blood,’ he said. ‘She calls herself a vegetarian but eats nothing more than steamed vegetables. The same boring steamed vegetables for every meal, just about every night. I know. I see her. I tell her: “Sharni there is a world of wonderful food you’re missing out on.” Last time I checked she insisted a wombok had some relationship to the gobbledock.’

  ‘It doesn’t?’ Paige lifted her head from the boxed bounty to wink. ‘And these?’ She drew out a bundle of mutant carrots: monstrous and fat but shiny in spite of the dirt.

  ‘One too many taproots on those babies, making them too bizarre for market. Rebel’s not fussy, though,’ he smiled.

  ‘Speaking of the horse, I was . . .’ She was about to tell him who she’d met, but for some reason she said, ‘I was on my way down there with this and became distracted.’ She held up the bread she’d totally forgotten to feed the horses earlier. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘Paige, you have Mati to care for and we have dinner to think about.’

  Paige was lost for words. Alice never knocked back an opportunity to take charge of the happy little girl currently staring up from her paper and crayons.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Matilda said out of the blue.

  Aiden leaned back against the railing and crossed one ankle over the other. He looked at Mati in a way Paige couldn’t describe, as though conversations with young children were not unfamiliar.

  ‘Do you know my favourite food is macaroni cheese?’ he said. ‘What about you?’

  The child’s eyes popped open, nodding so excitedly her ponytail swished over the top of her head and back again.

  ‘I’m not working tonight so, if it’s all right with your mother—and your nana,’ he added, as if he knew he was being assessed, ‘I’ll cook us all a yummy pasta dish for dinner and a special macaroni cheese for you and Liam.’

  The girl looked at her mother in anticipation and as Paige smiled and nodded, Matilda jumped up, crayons scattering over the veranda. ‘Macromi sneeze. Macromi sneeze. I love Macromi sneeze.’ She clattered along the veranda, letting the screen door slam shut as she screamed out, ‘Liam, guess what we’re having for dinner?’

  ‘I guess that takes care of the kids,’ Aiden said. ‘Now the horses. Do you want to come to feed them, Alice?’

  ‘No, this nag is quite happy right where she is and also nursing a sore back, so I hope you won’t be too long, Paige.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Okay then, Paige, I’ll meet you at the paddocks. I have more vegetables to drop at the cottage first.’

  ‘Oh, the cottage, right, yes.’

  So, he was here to see Rory. She tried not to let the disappointment suddenly dampening her high spirits show. Aiden wasn’t gay, but his first crush had just moved in next door.

  ‘You all right, Paige?’ Alice was asking.

  ‘Yep, sure am.’

  Paige cast a sly glance towards the cottage, her smile fading. And as the pink-haired woman and Aiden waved at each other she wondered where that oil and water was that Sharni had warned her about.

  Maybe some first loves do last the test of time.

  Perhaps that meant there was hope for her and Robert after all.

  ‘You have a way with horses,’ Aiden said, surprising Paige when he appeared at the paddock fence where Rebel was munching down the last bits of bread.

  ‘It’s not hard to win the heart of someone feeling a little neglected.’ She cupped the horse’s nose between both hands and rubbed. ‘Sharni reckons you’ll be giving this old boy a whole lot more attention now Rory’s back and staying in the cottage.’

  Aiden shifted on his feet, matching Paige’s scrutiny with his own. ‘Does she? Goes to show Sharni’s not the smartest bottle behind the bar then, doesn’t it? And in case I’m not being obvious enough, Paige, it’s your company I’m seeking out.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘This town is the last place I thought I’d end up, and to be honest it was starting to be a bit Groundhog Day-ish. Yes, this property holds a few memories for me, and because of that I’ve avoided Rebel more than I should. When you arrived I, well . . . You see, the thing is . . . I’ve basically had my head up my . . . Let’s say, I’ve had a few problems to work through.’

  He’d blurted the confession and now looked uneasy. Her silence probably wasn’t helping, but she was struggling to find a suitable response.

  But you’re gay, would have been her first thought had Sharni not, thankfully, set her straight about Aiden being, we
ll, straight.

  I like you too was another possible response.

  I’m married was the other, and common sense suggested the most appropriate. But rather than her own admission, what came out of her mouth was simply, ‘I can’t imagine why Coolabah Tree Gully would be the last place anyone would want to be.’

  ‘Long story for me.’ Aiden’s head lowered, the toe of one boot scuffing a clump of weed. ‘On second thoughts, it’s not long as much as it is painful, especially when it involves admitting you’ve been a first-rate moron twice in your life. Once with—’

  ‘Am I interrupting?’

  They turned at the sound of the voice behind them.

  Aiden did the introductions. ‘Rory, this is Paige.’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman said. She tipped her head to one side and the sun bounced off the tiny diamond nose stud and the silver loop earrings the size of hula-hoops. ‘We met earlier—sort of.’

  Her face, the part not hidden behind the oversized sunnies and a heavy fringe, sparkled with mineral powder—a little too much in Paige’s estimation, the bronzer making her too yellow. The lipstick was also a little heavily applied; not that Paige was an expert on that. The only thing lipstick did for her these days was exaggerate the crookedness of her post-stroke smirk.

  While Rory exuded no warmth or charm, there seemed to be something about the arrogant stance and cocky attitude—a combination of Pretty Woman and Erin Brockovich, only Rory was skinnier, tougher. Like the movie characters, Rory was sexy in a stony, streetwise kind of way, but her appearance and her aura—one of Nancy’s favourite words—left Paige feeling excruciatingly bland, a little too curvaceous, and slightly intimidated.

  Paige hoped her risorius muscles were cooperating when she smiled and extended her arm. ‘Nice to make it official.’

  The woman hesitated before taking the hand offered and another curious head tilt unsettled Paige when Rory quickly withdrew from the grip, wiping both hands on her jeans. Paige could have read a lot more into the snub had she not realised her palms were a sweaty mess of horse spit and breadcrumbs. She brushed her hands together before finishing them off on the side of her thighs, knowing the dark-blue denim would disguise any resulting stain.