The Ties That Bind

by Lexi Landsman

  He appeared at the front door and, without saying a word, she leaned forward and kissed him hard, tasting sleep on his lips.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she whispered eventually.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said, grinning. ‘Or you wouldn’t be here.’ He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her face gently towards his and kissed her again. She felt like butter, melting at the edges.

  ‘Come in,’ he whispered, reaching for her hand.

  Adam led her to his bedroom and then cupped her face in his hands, kissing her passionately. Jade felt a rush as he lifted her top over her head and unclipped her bra. He gently caressed her breasts. She ran her hand down his chest, following his trail of hair, feeling the ridges and scars that made him so perfectly formed. His body was strong but he touched her delicately as he laid her down onto the bed.

  He kissed her collarbone, her breasts, her belly, her thighs. His breath on her body was heavy, electric. Jade wrapped her legs around him and drew him in close. Their faces pressed against each other as they lost themselves completely.

  Later, as the moon’s light shone into the room, Jade lay curled in Adam’s embrace, absorbing the warmth that escaped from his body onto her skin. She had never felt so safe, so content. She didn’t want the sun to rise. She wanted to lie beside him while he slept, watching his chest lift and fall, feeling his breath change the space of the room, taking in the way his eyelashes fluttered every so often in dreams.

  Jade lay awake, thinking about how unexpectedly Adam had come into her life. Without him, she wouldn’t be alive. She wouldn’t be lying there beside him, happier than she’d been in years. Her father and grandmother would have been mourning more than just the loss of their home. So as Jade’s eyelids began closing, she decided it was time to do something positive with the second chance at life Adam had given her.

  She knew he was asleep but she spoke softly to him anyway, needing to hear the words aloud to make her resolution concrete. ‘I’m going to rebuild our house and start again,’ she whispered, the night air carrying her words, her hope for a new beginning.

  31

  WHEN the night fell away, Jade lay awake watching the light of early morning bloom over Adam’s cheeks, the black strands of his eyebrows, his bare chest, the sandy shades of his hair. She had slept all night curled next to him, the warmth of his body shading her dreams.

  He stretched. ‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice still matted with sleep. ‘What a nice way to wake up on my last morning here.’ He rolled onto his side to face her.

  Jade sighed. ‘I can’t believe it’s your last day.’

  He stared at her, his eyes large, and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. ‘Me neither,’ he said, running his hand along her cheek.

  Silence fell between them for a few moments as they avoided the question of what would happen between them now that he was leaving. She wanted him to define their relationship, to put a label on it.

  ‘I’ll come back and visit in a few weeks when I have some rostered days off,’ he said.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said casually, even though in truth she would be counting down the days. He had created a space in her life that would feel empty without him in it.

  She drew herself closer and rested her head on his chest. Her ear was pressed to his heart and she felt it tap against her skin.

  ‘You know, you can always come to Melbourne and stay with me for a few days,’ he said.

  Jade didn’t even contemplate the suggestion. ‘I can’t leave right now. There’s too much to do here. My dad and grandmother need me and I want to start rebuilding our house.’

  ‘You don’t rest, do you?’

  ‘I’m not good at sitting still. I like to be busy.’

  ‘Well, the offer’s open if you change your mind.’

  He played with her hair and they lay again in silence. ‘I really like you, Jade,’ he said after a while. ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.’

  She drank in his words like water. She wished she could tell him how she really felt but she wasn’t used to honest admissions. She lifted herself off his chest and rested on her elbows, facing him. ‘How do I know you’re not lying?’ she joked.

  ‘Because when I lie, my eyebrows arch up like a frown,’ he teased, demonstrating. ‘At least that’s what my mother has always told me.’

  ‘Well, I like you too, mister,’ she said in a playful tone. She kissed his chest, then cleared her throat to change the subject. ‘I hope my grandmother doesn’t have a heart attack when she realises I’m not there. I’ll just have to tell her that I went past our house early this morning. But if she sees me wearing the same top …’

  ‘You can take one of my shirts,’ he offered. He stood up and handed her a pale blue shirt. ‘You can say you took the wrong size from the clothes donations.’

  Jade slipped it over her head. ‘I can’t believe I’m in my mid-twenties and I have to creep around from my grandmother,’ she laughed. His scent lingered on the shirt. ‘Now you’ll have to come back,’ she said teasingly as she buttoned it up, ‘if you want your shirt.’

  He laughed and scooped her around the waist, lifting her in the air. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him. ‘I didn’t need any more incentive,’ he said, smiling.

  When he propped her back down, he reached for his watch on the bedside table and sighed. ‘I better get a move on,’ he said, reluctantly.

  Jade helped him take his clothes off the shelves, folding them and putting them in a duffel bag. He packed up all his belongings and loaded them into the car.

  They drove silently to the cabin. Jade watched the trees whirr past, feeling an aching deep in her chest. When they arrived, he got out and they stood by the car a few moments, unsure of what to say.

  ‘I’m only a three-hour drive from here.’ He took her hand in both of his. ‘I’ll come as often as I can.’

  Jade forced herself to smile, to hide the despair that had overcome her. As much as she wanted to believe that he felt for her as she did for him, she barely knew him. He could return to the city and realise that a country girl would never fit into his life, or he could meet someone else.

  He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face gently up towards him. ‘I’m not going to disappear,’ he said as if he could read her mind.

  She wanted desperately to believe him, but people she loved had made a habit of disappearing from her life.

  ‘I know,’ she lied. ‘I just wish you could stay.’

  ‘Me too.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going to miss you.’ He said it softly, cautiously, as if he didn’t know how she’d respond.

  Jade was afraid to tell him the truth. That she wouldn’t just miss him, she would ache for him. ‘I’ll miss you too,’ she said, surprising herself.

  He kissed her. ‘I hate long goodbyes,’ he said, brushing away any emotion. ‘I’ll be back soon and you can visit me in Melbourne any time.’ He kissed her once more on the cheek and then hopped back in his car.

  He waved out the window and as she watched him drive off, she couldn’t help but feel like it was Flynn all over again. The dust spraying at her feet, the overwhelming sense of abandonment.

  Never fall in love. It will undo you. Her mother’s voice intruded on her thoughts. Maybe Asha was right and Jade had made a fatal error. Maybe that was why her mother had abandoned Jade so many times. To teach her that love was transient. It would only ever leave. It would only ever hurt.

  When his car vanished out of view, Jade hoped more than anything that her mother was wrong.

  32

  THE FIRST time Courtney felt like her heart had stopped, she was painting on an easel in the garden. She was enjoying the summer sun on her skin, the sounds of lawnmowers, kids’ laughter and dogs barking. She was using oils to layer a painting of fishing boats floating on a river that had been taking her months to finish.

  Matthew was driving his mini quad bike around the garden. David had bought it at a pawn shop
and together they fixed it up and miraculously got the old thing into good-as-new shape. Matthew had turned their garden into a makeshift racetrack, with a few obstacles positioned in the garden including Courtney and her easel. It was a slow bike, so watching him make the same loops over and over again was tedious. But as he rounded each corner, he seemed to have the same enthusiasm as if it were his first lap. He was wearing a red and blue Formula One jumpsuit, which made his little five-year-old frame look adorable. It was boiling hot, so Courtney had suggested he wear something more summer friendly, but he insisted on the tracksuit. His hair was falling over his face and he had a look of seriousness as if he were role-playing as the driver in a Formula One race.

  She was softening the edges of where a boat drifted on the water. She looked up and saw a giant smile plastered on his face as he rounded a corner down a small hill next to the pool.

  ‘Look, Mom!’ he shouted. ‘No hands.’ He lifted his arms up only for a few seconds and before she could reprimand him, it was too late. With no steering, the bike had veered left, ploughing straight into the pool. It hit the water with an enormous splash and Matthew fell on top of it, disappearing below the surface. Courtney was in the water in seconds, pulling Matthew up, dragging him to the steps. It was only when he was safely out of the pool that she was relieved to see he appeared unharmed. He spluttered and coughed, his face pale with shock.

  She patted his back as he turned to where his bike was sinking. ‘Mom,’ he said, annoyed, ‘you should have got my bike first!’

  That was the first time she had been gripped by such intense fear. They said those moments came with being a mother, but no one warned her about the moments that didn’t pass, the ones that never let your heart return to its natural rhythm. A few seconds back then had been enough to paralyse her, but now it felt like she existed in a permanent state of shock.

  She was watching Matthew so closely that she could almost count how many breaths he had taken, how many times he’d scratched his nose, the number of freckles that dotted his cheeks.

  Whenever she had a free moment, she would force her fatigued body and restless mind to focus on the task of tracing her biological family in the hopes of finding a match for her son. She began by reading an adoption site that suggested she write down everything she knew about her birth and adoption, from the name of the hospital in which she was born to the agency that handled her adoption. She wrote her name, and that was when she hit her first roadblock.

  His friends all denied it, but David knew there was a defining moment in every man’s life when he suddenly realised he was approaching middle age. For some it was a single blaring grey hair, for others it was realising they couldn’t run the distance they used to without injuring something.

  But not for David; there was nothing glaringly obvious to signify that his body was ageing. His moment came in the most ordinary of environments, with such subtlety it would have been easy to deny it. A week before the diagnosis, he had been standing in front of his students presenting a lecture, when he noticed a row of boys passing a folded letter to each other. As they each unravelled it, they turned around and checked out a busty brunette in the corner, then grinned and passed the note on. Instead of David confiscating the note as any lecturer would, his first instinct was to look at the girl. Then he found himself wishing that he had been sitting there reading it with them. Part of the longing to be young again in that moment was the element of the unknown. Those boys had no idea what state or country they would end up living in, what woman they would marry, how many children they would have, how rich or poor they would be. To them, life was about the now, and the future was something to look forward to, not something to dread.

  David had lived most of his life thinking that it was the things we didn’t know that made us look forward, and now he realised that same logic was the reason he was looking back.

  He parked his car at the airport to pick up his parents, Mandy and Barry. He walked to the arrivals gate, realising he couldn’t even remember the last time he had gone to visit them. They were the ones who always made the trip from New York to see him.

  David stood at the gate next to excited loved ones who sported looks of anticipation. Wasn’t it usually good news that brought families together? David felt tall, like his haggard expression made him stand out from the crowd that now edged closer to the gate.

  He heard his mother’s heels even before he saw her. She was wearing white pants and a beige cashmere cardigan with pearls, and his father walked behind pushing their luggage. They caught sight of David and he teared up. It was only then, for the first time in his adult life, that he realised how much he needed his parents.

  ‘Honey.’ His mother waved as she neared. She ran her manicured nails along his collar and straightened it, before giving him a big hug. ‘Have you been eating?’ she asked in her strong New York drawl. ‘You feel skinny.’

  ‘Hey, son,’ Barry said as he patted him on the back and then hugged him. ‘Just ignore your mother, will you?’

  ‘Well, honey, now that we’ll be staying with you, I’m going to make sure you put on at least four pounds. You know how much you love my cooking. Maybe I’ll make some chicken soup tonight, and schnitzel. You want schnitzel?’

  ‘Ma, I’m not even thinking about dinner. It’s first thing in the morning, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.’

  ‘Well, that’s why you’re so skinny. You’re not eating breakfast.’

  ‘Ma,’ David sighed, as he took the luggage from his father and headed to the car. They made small talk on the way, avoiding what they really wanted to say.

  Even though his mother was already being over-protective, he was grateful they were there. The way his parents were keeping guarding eyes on him made him think of his fourteenth birthday, which they spent on vacation in Hawaii. They had left the beach and were walking along cliffs to a lookout point. David had been sulking because holidays as an only child with his parents were as boring as they came. He wanted to go surfing but his dad wouldn’t allow it because there was a strong rip and David was a poor swimmer. On their walk, they stopped to admire the view from a rocky escarpment, where a group of teenagers were sunbaking. They looked about sixteen or seventeen and the boys were jumping off the rock and into the water to the cheers of the girls. They glanced at David and he suddenly felt self-conscious, embarrassed to be with his parents.

  ‘Dad, can I have a go?’ David asked.

  ‘No, David.’ Barry was stern. ‘It’s much too high and I told you, there’s a strong rip today.’

  He turned away from David and caught up with Mandy, who always walked at a brisk pace. David sulked. He wasn’t allowed to do half the things his friends could. On impulse, he took off his shoes and flopped his towel down. He could jump, swim to the beach and run back up before they had the chance to reprimand him. David stood close the edge. The height made him dizzy. He was about to give up on his rebellious plan when the teenagers noticed him.

  ‘Are you having a go?’ said one of the girls, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes.

  ‘I guess,’ David half-smiled.

  ‘Make sure you give yourself a push away from the rocks before you’re airborne and don’t land belly-first,’ one of the boys offered. ‘It’s rough out there, be careful.’

  David took a deep breath and summoned all the courage he had to break away from the safety of the rock. He hit the water with such an impact that he was winded for a few seconds. He could hear cheers from the teenagers and David felt proud of himself for making the jump. But as he swam towards the beach, he found himself getting pushed further and further out to sea. His arms quickly grew tired and a sense of panic overcame him. The waves pushed over him and David was gasping for air. And then he felt a strong arm around him, holding him up, pulling him to shore. ‘What were you thinking?’ Barry spat out, breathless. ‘You could have died.’

  It was only then when he was safely on solid ground that David took stock of how stupid he had been
and how grateful he was that his dad had come to his rescue.

  Now as an adult David realised how much he missed being treated like someone’s child instead of carrying the responsibility of being someone’s parent.

  Courtney was asleep on the chair next to Matthew’s bed when David’s parents arrived. She was pleased to see them and to know that there were more people she could rely on to watch over her son. It also gave Matthew a distraction. They went to the ward’s playroom, giving Courtney the chance to leave the hospital for a few hours so she could search for any documentation of her adoption.

  When she arrived at her father’s house, she let herself in and went straight to the shoebox at the back of the cupboard where she had found the pearl necklace years ago. If the necklace had been so sentimental to her mother – given her father’s reaction when she wore it at the game – she imagined her mother might have kept other memorabilia that was important to her there. She went into the walk-in wardrobe. Her father had left things mostly as they were before Emma died. It was Courtney who had gone through her mother’s things and boxed up the memories of her mother so the loss wouldn’t be so hard for Frank to confront every day. Courtney thought it was possible she had missed a clue to her adoption when she first went through the shoebox in her grief-stricken state simply because she wasn’t looking for one.

  She searched behind the rack where she had found it the first time, only to discover the space empty. It had been a few years, so it shouldn’t have surprised her that her father might have moved it to the attic. She continued rifling through the cupboard until she saw the edges of the telltale blue-and-white box on the top shelf above the clothes rack, squashed next to a suitcase. She stood on tiptoe and pulled it down. Carefully, as if it were fragile cargo, she carried it into what was once her own bedroom and placed it on the bed.