The Ties That Bind

by Lexi Landsman

  Jade consumed his words, struggling to believe it was her father speaking them. This once invisible man who hid far more than he ever revealed.

  ‘We’re happy here,’ he continued. ‘The roses have regrown, the shed is as it was, we even had a small olive harvest. The dogs are settled. We love sitting on the verandah, looking out as everything grows around us, watching the countryside heal. If you hadn’t rebuilt, I’d probably still be in that cabin.’

  ‘I did what I had to do,’ Jade said simply.

  ‘Your daughter is very resilient.’ Adam rubbed her shoulders.

  ‘I know,’ Paul said. ‘I have always known my daughter was strong. Stronger than I ever was. I just wish I had told her.’ He looked at Jade with warmth in his eyes. ‘I’ve missed having you around, but I’m glad to see you looking so happy, so healthy. There is always a room for you here, you know, if ever …’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ Jade said, ‘but I have my own home in Sydney now.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said softly.

  Jade felt love for her father flow through her. ‘You can come visit me, Dad, any time,’ she said, surprised that she was inviting him into her life even though she thought she had left this house and everything in it behind. She hugged him and, for a moment, she felt like a child protected in her father’s arms again.

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ he said.

  Jade saw the closed door to her grandmother’s bedroom and her heart pulsed heavily against her chest. ‘Can I see her now?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s missed you,’ her father said. ‘She talks about you all the time. Always says how proud she is of you.’

  Jade turned the doorknob slowly. Helena was asleep. Jade tried to suppress a gasp at the sight of her. The grandmother she remembered – effervescent, strong and fearless – was lying in bed, eyes closed, shrunken in old age and illness. The bedsheets were pulled up to her chest. Her thick dark-grey hair curled against the pillow, making her skin look white against it. She seemed small and translucent.

  Jade sat down on the bed quietly and took her hand. It was cold and limp. It didn’t feel like the hand that had taught her how to cut a pineapple, how to climb an olive tree, how to roll dough. Jade pushed a tear away so her grandmother wouldn’t see. She hadn’t expected her to look like this. Helena’s voice on their regular phone conversations had still sounded so deceptively vibrant, a mask to stop Jade from worrying about her ailing health.

  ‘YiaYia,’ Jade whispered. ‘It’s me, Jade.’

  Helena stirred. She stretched her fingers and all at once Jade felt her hand clasp her own, a faint hint of the strength she’d once had.

  ‘Agapi mou,’ she said in a soft, strained voice. ‘My pretty green-eyed girl. You’ve come home.’ She ran the back of her hand down Jade’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so frightened. I don’t look that bad, do I?’ She grinned, trying to make Jade laugh.

  Jade shook her head.

  ‘Did you see my kitchen?’ Helena asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Jade said, smiling.

  ‘It looks wonderful, doesn’t it? Just as I always wanted. The house is perfect, except for not having you in it. You did well, agapi mou. You have always shone. You are such a kind girl. So ready to give. So good to your grandmother. I’m so proud of you, my special girl.’

  Jade fought the urge to cry. ‘I love you, YiaYia,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ‘I don’t like to see you like this.’

  Helena took a deep, strained breath but then widened her eyes and smiled to hide the discomfort she was in. ‘I’m fine, my girl. You mustn’t worry about me.’

  Helena shivered and Jade pulled the sheets higher, tucking them in at the sides.

  Jade felt a sensation, a tap inside her belly. She took Helena’s hand and pressed it against her stomach. ‘A baby.’ Helena smiled, her face lighting up. ‘I am so happy for you and Adam. You have so much love to give, agapi mou. You will be a wonderful mother.’

  Jade swallowed, tears now streaming down her face. She felt like a cork was stuck in her throat.

  ‘I wish I could get out of this bed and make you some cinnamon buns or baklava to celebrate,’ Helena said. ‘If I had the strength. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.’ She tried to sit up but then lay back down again, wincing, and closed her eyes. ‘I must sleep now, my girl,’ she whispered.

  Jade kissed her grandmother’s hand, reluctant to let it go. She stopped at the door as Helena closed her eyes, remembering how her grandmother had always smelled of cinnamon and flour, how her hugs would squash Jade in her bosom, how she could do a crossword better than an English teacher, how she was like an encyclopaedia of recipes. She felt such overwhelming love for her. Her guardian, her keeper. The one constant in her life.

  Jade looked back at Helena once more and stepped quietly out of her room.

  Adam and her father were sitting on the couch when Jade emerged from the bedroom. ‘She’s sleeping,’ Jade said, wiping her eyes. ‘Adam, will you walk with me? I need some fresh air.’

  They left the house, and the three dogs came rushing to her and nearly bowled her over. ‘Harley, Rusty, Amber,’ she said, smiling, breathing in the familiar scent of their fur. She sat on the porch steps as they licked her hand and legs, drowning her in saliva, their tails wagging. ‘Someone has been missed,’ Adam said, laughing.

  She left the dogs in the shade and walked with Adam through the vegetable garden and around the rose bush. The countryside was green again and full of life. There were only scattered remnants of the black and grey char that once scarred the land. It was unfathomable to think that everything around her now was once ablaze in a crackling inferno.

  Jade led Adam to the olive groves, which had recovered well. Avenues of trees stood tall, their silver canopies glistening in the fading afternoon light. Green shoots of up to a metre long sprouted out from what had been black stumps when she left. She stood underneath the leaves of one of the oldest trees in the orchard and ran her fingers over a plump green olive.

  They walked down the rolling hills, towards the opening of the bush. Jade took off her shoes, wanting to feel the soil beneath her feet.

  When they turned the corner, Jade saw a lock of blonde hair lift in the wind and fall, disappearing behind a shrub. It was as if she were a child again, wandering with her mother through the bush, following at her feet. She remembered how her mother’s every explanation of the flowers and plants was like music to her. Jade looked to Adam to be sure she hadn’t imagined it but he was looking over there too. ‘Wait here,’ she said.

  Jade turned the corner and her mother appeared. She wore a long khaki dress and was bent over, planting seedlings behind the bush.

  ‘Mother,’ Jade said.

  Asha turned, as beautiful and unreachable as ever. She smiled as if she had been expecting her.

  ‘Jade,’ she said. ‘You’re home.’

  ‘Not for you,’ Jade said bluntly.

  ‘I know.’ Her mother smiled faintly. She stood up and dusted the mud off her knees. ‘But at least I get to see you. You look beautiful.’

  ‘So, you stayed this time,’ Jade said coldly.

  ‘Yes, your father needs me here,’ her mother said. ‘I won’t leave him again. I won’t make the same mistakes.’

  Jade almost asked if she’d told him the truth but she realised she didn’t want to know the answer.

  ‘Love undid me,’ her mother said. ‘I tried to put everything back together but I failed. I wish, Jade, that I had made different decisions. All we have in this life are our choices. And I made all the wrong ones. I know you can’t forgive me now, but I hope one day you will.’

  Jade looked away and pressed her tongue into the roof of her mouth.

  ‘I know what you did for Rose,’ her mother said. ‘And I’m so proud of you. You gave the greatest gift a person can give. There has always been something special about you.’

  Jade’s lip started to tremble, hearing her mother speak this way. ‘You made some horrible choices,’ Jad
e said, feeling defiant and strong. ‘You’ve abandoned me continually since I was a child. I’ve lived my whole life waiting for you. But you know that. I’m not going to hold onto it. It’s not worth it.’ Jade kept her gaze steady and her voice even. ‘I don’t want your mistakes to be the scars I bear. So, I forgive you.’

  Her mother stepped closer, with tears in her eyes. She leaned forward and hugged Jade.

  Years ago, Jade would have drunk in the moment. She would have felt whole and happy, replaying it in her mind over and over again from every angle. But not now. Now she knew it was her mother who was desperate to be loved by her daughters.

  ‘Jade,’ Adam called out, trying to find her.

  ‘I’m not staying long,’ Jade told Asha. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘I wish you didn’t. But I understand.’

  Adam appeared from behind the lime trees and took Jade’s hand. ‘Adam,’ her mother said. ‘You’re a good man. I can see that in you. You’ll take good care of Jade.’

  Her mother stepped forward and placed her hand on Jade’s belly. Jade jumped back, startled that her mother knew instinctively even though her stomach was well hidden underneath her baggy top. She could see the regret on her mother’s face, the grandchild she would never know.

  ‘You’ll make all the right choices,’ her mother whispered.

  Jade led Adam along the rocks of the creek. He helped her down onto the grass and they stopped beside the tree that had shielded her from the embers.

  She stood for a moment, thinking of everything that had happened since the fires. She’d lost so much, and yet she’d gained far more. She now had Adam in her life, a sister and a nephew. She might have missed out on two decades with Courtney, but they had their lives ahead of them to make up for it. She thought of Matthew, his beautiful blue eyes, his kindness, his courage, his strength. She would never be able to fully comprehend the depth of her gratitude for being his match. The connection they now shared was knitted in their cells, forever binding them to each other. She would always look out for her nephew.

  Adam kissed her neck and she felt the warmth of his touch. They took off their clothes and folded them over a tree trunk. The light was fading, leaving a blue-and-orange tinge in the sky. It was her favourite hour, neither day nor night, just the space between. The water was as still as a bath, mirroring the green banks of the creek. They stepped in slowly, Adam reaching out his hand to help her in. Jade felt the cold water swirl around her.

  As she dipped deeper, she caught her reflection in the water. Her stomach was growing rounder each day. Adam stood behind her and put his hands over her belly and she closed her eyes. She felt happiness flow through her. Would the child inside her know that this was the land that had shaped its mother? That this had once been home?

  She thought of the salt, the seawater and the swells of the ocean in her new home in Sydney and wondered if her child would have the same attachment to the land that she did. If her child would feel the movement of the tides, the breath of wind through blades of grass, the caress of rain, the light falling through trees.

  ‘It’s definitely a boy,’ Adam said, grinning.

  ‘It’s a girl,’ Jade teased.

  He pulled her gently further into the water and she wrapped her arms around him. They stayed there as night fell, as the first stars reflected off its glassy surface. She felt her belly against his skin and the warmth of his breath curl around her, and Jade knew with certainty that her child would be loved for a lifetime.

  Acknowledgements

  A few months before the Black Saturday bushfires in 2009, I went to a work conference in Marysville, Victoria, and was captivated by the picturesque landscape. After the fires, I found it hard to fathom that a place so beautiful and serene had been reduced to ashes in a matter of hours. The depth of the destruction to the region and the loss of life had a profound effect on me.

  In the course of my research into bushfires, I revisited this dark chapter in Australia’s history and read the Black Saturday witness statements from the 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission. Their accounts helped me comprehend the full tragedy of these natural disasters that are an unfortunate part of Australian life. Within the harrowing accounts, I was comforted by the stories of bravery, camaraderie and community togetherness – hallmarks of the Australian spirit. I have drawn from their stories in describing the fictional bushfires depicted in The Ties that Bind in the made-up town of Somerset. All characters and settings are entirely fictional and are not intended to resemble any people or places.

  This novel has been a labour of love. Seeing it print is the realisation of lifelong dream.

  To my wonderful publisher and editor, Beverley Cousins, thank you for believing in this book. Your insightful feedback, guidance and support made all the difference. Thank you to Kathryn Knight and Claire de Medici, along with all the lovely people at Penguin Random House for championing my novel and for being such a pleasure to work with.

  To my agent, Sandy Wagner, who took me on as an idealistic twenty-something-year-old with a rough manuscript and big dreams, thanks for your advice, guidance and frequently correcting my ‘Australianisms’.

  The research to write this novel was a daunting and challenging task. I am grateful to the people who gave me their time and their knowledge.

  In the medical field, I am indebted to Associate Professor Lourens Bester, an inspiring interventional oncologist who answered my endless questions and was kind enough to read over sections of the manuscript to check the medical details for accuracy.

  A big thanks goes to Anthony Montague and Doctor Hung Yang from the Australian Bone Marrow Donor Registry for explaining the complexities that go into stem-cell matching. I am in awe of the incredible work they do to recruit more donors onto the registry in the hope of saving lives.

  For her soccer expertise, thanks to Camille Levin all the way over in Orange County, California, who answered my questions on the American school soccer system and helped me understand what making a top team might mean to an aspiring school athlete.

  Thanks to Stavros and Avgi Skarmoutsos of Ambrosia Olive Farm, who gave me free rein of their beautiful olive orchards and even trusted me enough to hand over their tractor keys.

  I’d like to express my gratitude to: Peter Brocklehurst for recounting the terrifying story of bushfires that destroyed his olive orchards and for answering my questions on olive tree recovery; Doctor Jana Zurawlenko for looking over the hospital scenes; my aunt, architect Lisa Tolkin, for giving me a few lessons in house construction; Gena Been and Jackie Munro for being helpful sounding boards; and to Mel Kirsch, Nicole Olevson and Lynn Ross for being my first readers.

  As any author will attest to, writing is very much a solitary pursuit. So I am grateful to my family and friends for their indispensable support throughout the writing journey.

  Heartfelt gratitude to my mother-in-law Diane Clennar for the many evenings she spent helping me brainstorm and for her feedback that ultimately brought YiaYia to life.

  To my parents, Joe and Lauren Landsman, thanks for moving our family to the beautiful country of Australia for a safer life and for teaching me the value of working hard.

  Thanks hardly seems adequate to my husband, Ricky Clennar, who has given me the space to disappear into my fictional world and has always been a source of boundless encouragement. Thanks for being my first and last reader, my voice of reason, my greatest love, my rock, my ally, my home.

  And finally, I dedicate this novel to my late grandmother Rhona Tolkin, who fostered my early imagination with her storytelling and read every word I wrote. She was a selfless and loving woman, whom I miss every day. In her last words at the end of her battle with motor neuron disease, she told me that she knew this book would get published and how proud she’d be. I know she is watching down on me because I got the first call from the publishers on her birthday.

  So Gran, this book is for you. I wish more than anything you were here to see it.

 
About the Author

  © Cybele Malinowski

  Lexi Landsman is an Australian television producer and journalist. She has worked on a range of award-winning documentary series that have aired in Australia and internationally.

  Prior to working in commercial television, she was a newspaper editor of arts, books and lifestyle. She has degrees in Media Arts and Production, Drama Teaching and a Master’s in Journalism. During her undergraduate degree, she spent time studying abroad at the University of Miami.

  She lives in Sydney with her husband and their dog. This is her first book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Penguin Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  The Ties that Bind

  ePub ISBN – 9781925324082

  First published by Bantam in 2016

  Copyright © Lexi Landsman 2016

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A Bantam book

  Published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd

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  www.penguin.com.au

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  National Library of Australia