The Ties That Bind

by Lexi Landsman

  About the Book

  The Ties That Bind is an emotionally riveting debut novel about the power of a mother’s love and the bonds among family that, though severed, can never be fully broken.

  On opposite sides of the world, two lives are changed forever. One by the smallest bruise. The other by a devastating bushfire. And both by a shocking secret …

  Miami art curator Courtney Hamilton and her husband David live the perfect life until their ten-year-old son Matthew is diagnosed with leukaemia. He needs a bone-marrow transplant but, with Courtney being adopted, the chances of finding a match within his family are slim.

  Desperate to find a donor, Courtney tracks the scattered details of her birth 15,000 kilometres away, to the remote town of Somerset in the Victorian bush.

  Meanwhile Jade Taylor wakes up in hospital in Somerset having survived the deadly bushfire that destroyed the family home and their beloved olive groves. Gone too are the landmarks that remind her of her mother, Asha, a woman whose repeated absences scarred her childhood.

  As Jade rallies her fractured family to rebuild their lives, Courtney arrives in the burnt countryside to search for her lost parents – but discovers far more …

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  For my grandmother, Rhona Tolkin, the wisest woman I’ll ever know. What I would give to hold your hand one more time, to do one more crossword, to hear one more story.

  Thanks for always believing in me.

  Prologue

  LIFE can change in a second. That’s the amount of time it takes for a bullet to travel 900 metres, for a honeybee to flap its wings 200 times, for light to travel 300,000 kilometres. To inhale. For a heart to stop.

  To lose a child.

  The last time I saw you, the sky was a knot of dark grey. It had been raining heavily. You were in your pram. You looked up at me, your round eyes deep blue like the rim around the clouds. You puckered your lips and then smiled as if I had made you laugh. I stroked the silk tufts of your hair, struck by your beauty. Your long black eyelashes, the peach colour of your lips, your button nose, the roundness of your cheeks. Tiny features so perfectly formed. You kept your eyes trained on me and curled your delicate fingers around my thumb. I kissed your forehead, feeling the smooth porcelain of your skin.

  When I got to the car, I left you in your pram by the passenger door for just a moment while I started to put the groceries in the boot. But when I turned back you were gone. The pram was empty.

  It took a second. A heartbeat. And just like that, you were gone.

  I remember the lights of the police cars reflecting in the pools of rainwater and the sound of the sirens wailing like my cries. And I remember knowing at that moment I would never be the same.

  You are the scar I bear. An imprint of everything I lost.

  1

  JADE stopped the tractor beneath the pale green canopies of the olive trees and looked up at their silver leaves, like hands under the clear blue sky.

  She listened to the loud calls of the black cockatoos while the flies buzzed around her. The grass was dry and brittle beneath the unrelenting sun. It was early morning and she had been spraying the olive groves with the water unit on the back of the tractor before the heat intensified. She reached her hand up to a branch of a Kalamata tree and picked a plump olive that had begun to turn a deep purple, tasting its bitter, salty flavour.

  Jade usually savoured the long summer days, the serenity of being outdoors, but today was different. It was the third day in a row of temperatures in the mid-forties. She inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of smoke in the distance. She knew there were spot fires on the other side of the mountain range, but it was far away and the local firefighters would have it under control.

  She spotted the alpacas underneath the lemon trees as she headed back, and smiled to herself as she saw the ducks and geese cooling themselves in one of the dams.

  She parked the tractor in the machinery shed and walked into the house, where she could smell the aromas of her grandmother’s cooking. Helena was bent over the stove, her greying black shoulder-length hair curling at the back from the heat. ‘I am making kreatopita before it is too hot to cook later. Will you have some, agapi mou, my darling?’ her grandmother asked when Jade walked into the kitchen and washed her dusty hands.

  Jade sat on the couch and turned on the television to the local news. ‘It’s too early for meat pie, YiaYia.’

  Her grandmother wiped a line of sweat from her face, where it sat on the creases of her dark olive skin, tanned from years of working under the sun. ‘It’s never too early for my meat pie. But okay, you eat when you are hungry.’

  Jade felt her body stiffen as she took in the television reports that said that the wind and the heat were a lethal combination, that a large fire was raging through a farming area in the foothills of the alpine, and that authorities feared more fires in the region. ‘The fire in Burrabrindi is out of control,’ Jade repeated aloud in disbelief.

  Helena patted her hands on her apron and came to join Jade by the television. Her grandmother was short and stocky, and in good shape for a woman in her seventies but Jade could tell the heat was getting to her.

  ‘Where is your father?’ Helena asked, and even though it was only subtle, Jade detected concern in her voice.

  ‘He’s in the shed,’ Jade told her. ‘I’ll go and get him.’

  Helena had come from Greece in her youth to find work and fell in love with the fresh air, waterfalls and sweeping vistas of the town of Somerset. When she met Jade’s late grandfather, a farmer, they started the olive grove, first as a hobby and then grew it to what it was now – a commercial producer of olive oil with 4000
trees over forty-five acres. Their children, Zoe and Paul, had grown up on the property. Aunt Zoe moved to another town when she married but Jade’s father Paul never left, and now ran the family business.

  It was impossibly hot and yet the threat of fire didn’t feel real. Jade knew the land. She knew the smell of rain before it came. The colour of dust before a storm. She knew the drifts and cycles of the wind. If there was one thing her mother had taught her, it was to recognise the shifting patterns of the landscape.

  When her father was inside, the atmosphere in the house immediately tensed. He stood close to the television and paced when the news reporter listed the areas most at risk. ‘Dad, we have a fire plan. You don’t need to worry,’ Jade said, registering his unease. She was used to playing the parent.

  He kept his eyes glued on the screen. It was in these moments that she tried to imagine what he was like before her mother made a habit of coming in and out of their lives. Jade often had to recall her childhood memories just to remind herself that he hadn’t always been so vacant.

  She remembered how he used to carry her on his shoulders at the local markets and guide her to pick the freshest vegetables and fruit, how he would let her paint his shed any colour she chose. How he used to play hide-and-seek with her by the lemon and orange trees, and how he’d spend every Saturday morning at the river teaching her to swim. As she looked at him now, with his slouched posture, his downcast eyes and edgy movements, she longed to have that father back.

  Helena stepped out onto the wooden verandah that wrapped around the front of the house and fanned herself with a piece of cardboard. Jade followed her with a damp cloth. ‘Here, YiaYia,’ she said, passing it to her and taking in her grandmother’s swollen feet. ‘This will cool you down. Make sure you drink lots of water.’ For all of Jade’s life her grandmother had been too worried about everyone else to think about herself.

  ‘Thank you, my girl,’ she said. ‘Always looking after your YiaYia.’ She smiled but Jade could see fear in her unusually drawn expression.

  The air seemed to be getting hotter and the smell of smoke more intense. Jade kept looking nervously into the distance, where she could see rising plumes of smoke. She took charge, knowing her father wouldn’t. ‘YiaYia, can you turn the radio on so we can hear the latest reports? Dad, we need to empty the gutters of leaves.’

  He looked at her, embarrassed by his indecision and yet grateful to have such a strong-willed daughter. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ But his movements were slow and effortful. Sometimes she imagined that he was a toy running out of battery; if only she could wind him up again, start afresh. She had noticed the grey strands beginning to creep through his thick black hair. Now in her mid-twenties, Jade didn’t think she looked much like her father, with her butterscotch-brown hair and pale-green eyes. She deeply resented her closer resemblance to her mother, a woman whose absences were felt more strongly than her presence.

  They removed the leaves and twigs from the gutters, and chopped down overhanging branches. It was hard work and Jade’s arms burned from the effort. Her father worked swiftly, with a strength she didn’t know he had. He looked up at her, with sweat matting his hair to his forehead. ‘I can do it myself, Jade. Why don’t you go sit with your grandmother on the porch?’ It was rare for Paul to show any confidence in his own ability, so she was pleased to hear him talk this way.

  ‘I’m fine, Dad,’ she assured him. Helena came out with iced water, which they drank gratefully. ‘YiaYia, will you turn the roof sprinklers on? And fill the baths with water and any buckets or bins you can find. And then take whatever you can carry off the verandah.’

  Their labrador, Amber, stayed by her grandmother’s side but the two collies – Harley and Rusty – ambled up to Jade, panting from the heat. To cool them down, Jade took the hose and sprayed them with it, then she called Amber over and sprinkled water on her belly and back. The dogs hung around a few moments in the glaring sun but then retreated to the porch and lay in the shade.

  As the day wore on and the heat grew more intense, Jade began to feel uneasy. The work was slow and she wished they’d had the foresight to prepare their property when the heat spell started. The house was surrounded by a beautiful garden that her mother had planted: vegetables, a rose bush, lavender and herbs. Asha had been a flower grower all her life and she had a way with nature, making flowers bloom and keeping her vegetable patches healthy through all seasons.

  Jade surveyed the surrounding lemon, orange and lime trees, and the row of pecan, chestnut and almond trees. She knew if the fire front hit, the embers could catch on the trees, which would set the house alight. So, she reluctantly set about cutting down the canopies on those closest to the house. You’ve made them bleed, Jade imagined her mother saying as she watched the leaves and fruit fall. Jade wondered if her mother would rather they left the garden as it was and gamble their lives with Mother Nature. In Jade’s mind that was what defined Asha – the landscape always came first.

  Jade and her father were breathless and exhausted when they returned to the television. By now, dozens more fires were ablaze, burning all over the Victorian countryside. She couldn’t bear to see the images of the beautiful valleys and hills reduced to ash, nor imagine the animals trapped, the vegetation incinerated.

  The heat made Jade feel dizzy and she leaned on the television set to steady herself.

  ‘Are you okay?’ her father asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Just hot,’ Jade said as she wiped her brow.

  He looked out the window as smoke blanketed the land in the distance. ‘What do you think we should do now?’

  Before Jade could answer, a firefighting unit pulled up in their driveway and one of the officers came to their door. Her father went to greet him and Jade listened to their conversation as she started to remove the heavier furniture from the verandah.

  ‘Are you staying or going?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ her father replied to the team leader.

  ‘Well, we’re warning everyone who isn’t staying to defend their properties to get out now. If you’re not prepared, you should go. This fire is unlike anything we’ve experienced before. There’s a relief centre being set up at the school, next to the oval. It’s the safest place right now if you have nowhere else to go.’

  With that, he climbed back into the tanker and drove on to warn their neighbours. Jade looked out at the street, watching panic descend on her usually quiet town. People were towing their horses out and filling the trays of their utes with furniture.

  She felt the gentle tug of the wind, so subtle she could easily have missed it. The direction had changed from northwest to south-west and it howled through the eucalyptus trees, bringing with it a new wave of hot air. Jade felt the earth shift below her. She knew that the fires were coming.

  She looked up at the dark cloud of smoke in the distance. The dogs were panting on the porch, unable to sit, instead pacing uneasily with their tails down. Jade patted them and brought the water bowl to each of them.

  Helena ran outside. ‘Mary’s just called. Her son said Gambia is gone.’ Her breathing was heavy and her face now showed complete panic.

  ‘The whole town?’ Jade asked.

  Her grandmother nodded, prompting Jade to make a snap decision. ‘You need to go,’ Jade said. ‘You should head out now before the roads become chaotic.’

  If her mother were there, Jade knew she would stay and fight. She would do anything to save their home and land. It suddenly occurred to Jade that if the house went and the olive grove burned down, there would be nothing left for her mother to come back for.

  Jade ran to the pantry and pulled out the box in which their protective fire gear was stored. ‘Put these on,’ she said with urgency in her voice as she handed them long woollen pants and tops, along with wide-brimmed hats.

  Her father looked around their house. ‘Should I take anything?’

  ‘No, go now. I’ll bring whatever we need. Take YiaYia and the dogs to Aunt Zoe’s hous
e. You’ll be safe there.’

  He looked at her as if he knew he should be the assertive one but instead he slumped his shoulders. ‘Are you sure we should go?’

  ‘Yes, go now,’ Jade insisted. She knew the worst place to be in a fire was a car, so they had to leave now. ‘I’ll catch up with you. I just want to box up some things to take. It will be better to have both cars anyway.’

  Her father nodded. ‘Okay, if you’re sure. Don’t take too long.’ He studied her for a moment longer and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She saw him take a framed photo of their wedding day but as he went to slip it into a bag, it fell and glass shattered on the floor.

  ‘Dad, don’t worry about it. We can clean it when we get back.’ Her father grabbed the photo of her mother, revealing another photo hidden at the back of the frame. He took both and Jade glimpsed an image of her parents standing in the olive grove, her father smiling with his hands on her mother’s heavily pregnant belly. They looked so young and happy.

  ‘Take these.’ Jade handed him a box of water bottles and dog food. She then helped her grandmother throw a few necessities into a bag.