by Cate Kendall
The music transported him back decades and he found his gaze shifting to a small framed picture on the wall. He’d played this CD over and over the night he’d celebrated the birth of a baby girl, his baby girl. His daughter.
The memory was painful. He glanced again at the picture. At the hand prints; tiny little hands. It seemed impossible a life could have been supported by something that minuscule, but he knew it had; he had seen the life force, the energy in her navy blue eyes.
He put his strong weathered hand next to the little fairy print and shook his head. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes and he exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks and shaking his head more vigorously.
‘That was then, this is now,’ Nick said out loud and steeled himself.
Life could be so cruel and take happiness away so suddenly. He had learned that a long time ago. Suddenly Jessica’s face flitted in front of his eyes again.
He really needed to see her. He wanted her in his life and he needed to tell her how he felt – now that he had finally worked it out himself, he thought wryly. The idea of her moving was crazy; what was she thinking? This was her home, here with him and the people who loved and appreciated her. She needed a reason to stay; he had to let her know she had a future here.
Nick texted her: ‘Brunch? I’m cooking’ and started to throw some food and drinks into a recycled supermarket bag. He had a King Island brie in the fridge, but no crackers so he whipped up some toast. He was really good at toast. What else?
Was this a good idea? He suddenly second-guessed himself as the toast darkened in the grill behind him. What if she laughed at him? Or was so shocked that their friendship was wrecked forever?
Bugger! The room was filling with smoke and he had no clear idea if he was doing the right thing, but he kept preparing anyway. He took another look at the hand prints on the wall and felt resolved again.
He really needed one more time alone with Jess, one more chance to let her know. How could he have let it all fall apart so badly after New Year’s Eve? He’d run off confused, horny and a bit drunk, just going for a quick walk to clear his head. But, with his mind whirring and the beach calling, he’d found himself back home. He should have gone back to the party. He should have carried the kiss through. She was probably hurt.
That was four days ago; he should have called her by now. He should have, but he’d been too scared of what might happen. He knew now that he’d let her down by acting as if everything between them hadn’t been irrevocably changed by that one charged moment.
They’d been through a lot of ups and downs in their decades of friendship. They hadn’t seen each other at all for the ten years after Imogen and Nick had split. He didn’t blame Jessica– after all, he’d been the one who cut her out of his life. Jess, her boyfriend, Pete, and Nick had all been good mates at school, but after he’d married Imogen she’d insisted he shun all their friends and focus just on her.
There were always mates to have a beer with at the pub on a Friday night, but he’d missed Jess, and the way she understood him.
God, she was beautiful. He decided to whip up a batch of pancakes; they were her favourite.
After he’d lost both his wife and his daughter he’d gone to ground. For a long time he was too broken and grief-stricken to be of any use to anyone. In those long years he’d just worked and surfed and tried to get his mind on track again. He’d kept his emotions locked up in a dark place that he would never let anyone access.
Then, finally, four years ago, he’d come out of the isolation and dark depression that had haunted him for a decade and the first person he’d run into was Jess, and within minutes it was as if they’d never been apart. She had just met Graham and was bubbling with new love and the thrill of her instant family. He’d been happy for her and they had fallen comfortably back into a close, supportive friendship that had sustained them both.
Of course it hadn’t taken long for Nick to see what a user Graham was. It made his blood boil to see him live in Jessica’s house, have her care for his kids like some kind of free au pair. He knew it was just one big use from start to finish. And he suspected Jessica did too, the way she changed the subject so abruptly every time it came up. He knew why she kept her head firmly wedged in the sand. It was those little tykes. They were just so important to her. He understood why she put up with Graham as long as she did. Kind of.
He was livid when he first found out Graham had ditched her, and then when it was apparent the boys were never coming home the furious impotence surged inside. Nick wanted to take action, do something, force Graham into shared custody, hire lawyers, rant, fight, punch. Jess was dying inside, and he missed the little guys too.
He finished cooking the pancakes and waited for them to cool. His phone tinged with an incoming SMS from Jess: ‘OK. Where & when?’
‘Bushman’s beach, 20mins,’ he replied, noticing her text was less than enthusiastic; that was okay, he knew he had important ground to recover.
He slapped some of Jessica’s own General Store jam on the pancakes, put them in an old ice-cream container, grabbed a bottle of wine, some plastic tumblers and a few apples.
Nick was more excited than he’d been for years; everything finally seemed clear. They would work it all out.
26
Jessica parked next to Nick’s big ute and ambled down the short path to reach the isolated rocky beach. A storm was threatening; she could feel the electricity in the air. The overcast sky was oppressive, making the humid day feel all the more still and close. It was particularly stifling on the path, as very little breeze penetrated the ti-tree lined track. The scrappy bark peeling from the boughs of the melaleuca hung drooping as if it were too hot to cling to the tree any longer. Jessica smiled as she caught sight of a small possum, too hot for indoors, lying limply on the branch just near its nest’s entrance, its small arms wide open, so like a human in its lethargy.
She emerged onto the foreshore with relief and the slight sea breeze cooled her flushed cheeks. The acrid stench of seaweed steaming in the heat stung her nostrils.
This part of their coastline was like another part of the world. The cliff face was red and held millennia of weather stories in its layers. Little sand softened the rugged landscape. The beach was all rock pools and inlets, too dangerous for surfing or swimming and guaranteed to be private. Jess knew it was one of Nick’s favourite thinking spots.
His text had sent a shiver through her. They hadn’t spoken since New Year’s Eve and she was desperate to put things right between them. She wanted to get back to the way they’d always been. And she owed him a face-to-face explanation of her plan to move before he heard it on the local grapevine.
Nick was one of her closest friends and life seemed to make less sense without him. The kiss had been a mistake; a moment of passion fuelled by the sentimentality of the occasion, the music and alcohol. Hopefully they could put it all behind them, she thought, pleased with her sensible approach. But a tiny shred of something else nagged at her: maybe he wanted to meet her here for another reason; maybe he had felt what she had in that moment when their lips had met.
‘For goodness sake,’ she scolded herself. ‘Enough with the schoolgirl fantasies already!’
The path broadened out to the sand and Jess saw that the beach was empty except for a single figure, staring out to sea, standing hunched against the wind on a flat rock.
Her heart seemed to beat faster, and she had to stop and take a deep breath. ‘Nick,’ she called.
‘Jess, you’re here!’ He stood and walked towards her.
She picked her way across the uneven rocky ground. As they drew closer he smiled broadly, put his bag down and em braced her.
Her thoughts were scrambled. Were they back to normal as great friends, or was there something else between them now? She was too confused to tell so she simply gave into the warmth of his hug, holding him tight and close. Finally she mustered her composure and pulled away.
‘So?’ she said,
pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. ‘What’s for lunch? I’m starving.’
He’d forgotten to bring a blanket so they sat on a small patch of sand at the base of the cliff. Protected from the wind, it was a warm, sheltered place to share the picnic.
‘Oh, you’ve done well,’ Jessica said in delight as Nick unpacked the food.
As they ate they chatted about light topics: the store, the local football team, his work on the estate. Nick poured them both a second glass of wine and they sat staring out to sea, letting their meals sit comfortably in their stomachs.
He looked over at her. She took his frank gaze. She wanted more than anything to delve into the scandalous gossip she’d heard from the women the other night at the party. But there was no way she was going to wreck such a special moment. Nick would tell her when he was ready. It wasn’t time yet. History had taught her that Nick Johnson, like a sea anemone, withdrew at lightning speed when prodded.
Nick leaned forward and brushed away the crazy curls that were fluttering in front of Jess’s face. She watched his eyes and her playful smile dropped as she saw what was coming. Her heart fluttered; her stomach followed suit. Nick leaned in and kissed her fully on the mouth. Her lips opened to let him in, her arms wrapped around his neck. She lay back on the sand, bringing him with her. He couldn’t touch enough of her body. His hands roamed, exploring her curves. She clasped her hands around his back, pulling him even closer.
‘Oh, Jess,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Don’t go, please don’t leave me.’
‘Nick, Nick, Nick,’ she said, not wanting to talk; not wanting to face the question he was asking; not wanting to think about the future. All she wanted was for the present to last forever, as it was, a perfect moment in time.
He looked at her, his eyes asking the question his lips had just begged.
‘Don’t, Nick,’ she whispered. ‘Just kiss me again.’
He moved in to oblige, murmuring softly, ‘Darling, the city would eat up a little country bumpkin like you.’
She froze.
‘Nick?’ She said it gently. ‘Do you really have that little faith in me? Don’t you think I can do this?’
‘It’s not that, Jess. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. It’s just that I want you to stay here, with me.’
‘What for, Nick?’ She sat up and pulled her tank top straight. ‘We’re great friends, but that’s all.’
She saw him flinch at her words.
‘I can’t stay here, Nick. I need to prove to you and Dad and everybody that I can go to the city, that I can take on this job. But most of all, I need to prove it to myself.’
‘You have proven it – look at the General Store. You are a success. What more do you want, Jessica?’
‘I don’t know ... more? How can I explain it? I just don’t feel fulfilled here anymore.’
‘I know what you want.’ His words were like driving hail, cold and stinging in the heat of the afternoon. ‘Jimmy McConnell.’
‘How can you say that, Nick?’ Jess stared at him, willing herself not to lose it and scream at him. ‘Don’t you understand? I need to take this chance to see where I can take my career. And I need to be close to the boys.’ She stood up angrily. ‘And anyway, you’re not the guy I thought you were. I don’t even know who you are. You’ve been keeping things from me.’ She crossed her arms in front of her in anger.
‘I’ve never lied to you. Never,’ he told her.
‘Graham never lied to me either,’ she shouted. ‘He just pretended to be something he wasn’t, and how do I know that you’re any different?’ Now she was shaking with anger. ‘How can I trust anyone ever again? How can I trust you when you kiss me one night and then avoid me for days afterwards? Did it mean nothing to you?’
Nick stalked towards the water’s edge, where he picked up a rock and threw it into the surf. Jess stared at his clenched jaw. Clearly he had nothing to say.
Right, that was it, she thought. Enough was enough. Over before it had begun.
‘I thought you would understand me better than anyone, but I guess I was wrong,’ he said quietly.
She ran her fingers through her tangled locks in frustration. ‘Nick, I don’t think you know what you want, but I know that I can’t be with someone who doesn’t have faith in me.’ She reached down to find her bag and put her thongs on.
‘Jess, please don’t go,’ Nick implored, his hands outstretched towards her. ‘Please stay, we can talk about it.’
‘I’m done talking,’ she said and walked across the rocks and up the beach path, leaving Nick alone on the beach. She was so fed up with men and their bullshit lines, their secrets and their insecurities.
Nick sat staring into the waves for more than an hour after Jess left. It was his own style of meditation; gazing at the surf until his thoughts stilled and his heart rate calmed. In his semi-trance the sound of the waves melded with the blood thrumming in his ears until he could no longer tell the two apart. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to stuff up something as simple as telling Jessica how he felt.
27
The monthly summer country races were days for dressing up: bare feet were upgraded to thongs, the locals dusted off their good Akubras and their daggiest stubby holders were on parade.
The city folk roosted on the timber picnic benches in the cyclone-fenced members’ area, which looked more chicken coop than privileged space, and pecked at their store-bought gourmet snacks, sipping their bubbles and sheltering from the harsh sun under their feathered hats.
In the decades Richard had been coming to the races he’d never signed up for membership. He couldn’t see the point when he could relax under the enormous manna gums that peppered the car park, just metres from the bookies, the steak sandwich stall and the cold beer.
It had been Richard’s idea to come down today and give Jessica a proper bon voyage from the Peninsula. He couldn’t think of anywhere more fitting. He and Caro had planned it as a surprise, and now his daughter-in-law was unpacking several gourmet picnic platters from their esky. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his fold-up captain’s chair, surveying the scene before him. Beside him Genevieve sat chatting with Tori about a designer sale in the city during the week. Several picnic blankets were spread out, a banquet spreading across each one. Songbird was fast asleep on the rug, and unaware that Taylor was using her open mouth as target practice for sultana shooting.
‘Who’s going to win in the next, Taylor?’ Richard asked.
Without hesitation Taylor said, ‘Wet star is a long way away.’
‘What in the blazes does that mean?’ Richard asked and grinned at the child. He’d always scoffed at the idea that the boy was psychic.
Taylor simply shrugged and ran off to find his siblings.
Richard took a quick look at the field in his race book. ‘Wet star? That doesn’t make any sense at all,’ he muttered.
Angus sat opposite Richard, mirroring his father’s body language. Richard noticed and smiled as he watched his son place his own straw panama on his head.
‘Who do you like in the next, Dad?’ Angus asked as he studied the form guide.
‘My Little Pony has come in at the bookies. It’s the favourite now.’
‘Ahhh,’ his son replied, scribbling down the information.
Richard noticed Nick’s car pull up at the rear of the paddock. What a nice surprise for Jess, he thought.
Jessica was enjoying her last day as a local. The past week had been a blur of briefing Linda on the finer details of running the General Store, daytrips to the city to find a corporate wardrobe, packing up the clothes and books she wanted to take with her to Angus and Caro’s, and trying to read as much as she could about Still Life and Mimsy Baxter so that she felt truly prepared when she started her new job.
Now there was time to enjoy the Peninsula sunshine and farewell as many of her friends as possible. Jess and Rainbow were wandering around the busy racecourse, weaving in between the many pic
nic blankets and camp chairs and stopping to chat with friends.
They met up with Steve from the milk bar and Sarah from the organic greengrocer’s, who were sharing a barbecue of lentil burgers and T-bones.
‘Hey Jess,’ Steve greeted her. ‘You off soon?’
‘Yep, couple of days,’ Jess answered. ‘I’m doing the rounds today, saying goodbye.’
‘Good luck.’ Sarah gave her a warm hug. She stood back and wrinkled her nose as a sudden gust of wind swept across the grounds, whipping up dust. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said, ‘what in the world is that smell?’
‘Yeah, it’s a bit ripe, isn’t it?’ Steve agreed. ‘It’s been like it for a few days now. Especially when the wind blows from the north.’
Rainbow looked around, then down into the wicker basket that hung from the crook of her arm and started scrabbling through it as Des ambled over to join the group, his thumbs stuck firmly in his jean pockets.
‘Hello ladies, Steve,’ he said. ‘Are you talking about the pungent north winds we’ve been enjoying of late?’ He looked pointedly at Rainbow. To the others he said, ‘You do know where it’s coming from, don’t you?’
‘Where?’ Sarah asked.
‘Rainbow, would you like to explain?’ Des asked; a tease of a smile played on his face.
‘Oh all right, I admit all.’ Rainbow threw up her hands in surrender. ‘It’s coming from our place, it’s the terra preta. Well, not the earth itself, that’s fine, it’s just the delivery of the fish guts and compost scraps. We just need to get it into the ground more quickly, that’s all. And it’s just been so hot lately...’ she trailed off feebly.
‘What? Do you mean this black gold that’s going to change the environment is making the smell?’ Steve asked.
‘This magic stuff?’ Sarah clarified. ‘This magic dirt that’s apparently sucking carbon back into the earth? That’s what’s so stinky? It’s coming from your house. My God, the whole village reeks of it!’
‘Jeez, Rainbow,’ Jess whispered, ‘where’s Songbird when you need her?’