“Terrific,” squealed Jasmine and then apologised. “I don’t have to be back until tomorrow night for the show, so it means we can stay if you like, Jessie. Moral support and all that.”
“We?” Jessie cocked an eyebrow at her girlfriend, who was pulling apart a steaming blueberry muffin.
Jasmine blushed. “Ricky drove me here. So we could both stay. Isn’t that right, Ricky?” She battered her eyelashes at him.
“I’ve got nothing urgent on, so we can stay for the funeral tomorrow then head off.” Glancing at Jessie, he added, “If that’s okay?”
“Oh, yes. That would be great. But we’ve got family at Coodravale, so we can’t put you up there. Sorry.”
“Not a problem. We’ll get a room in town here.” He cast a cunning smirk at BJ, who merely raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Any news yet?” Concern etched Jessie’s face.
“Not yet. Tabitha may be off for the entire season. She’s really damaged some ligaments. Needless to say David is ropeable…”
“I bet…” Jessie explained the current stalemate over the female principal role for next year to Angel and Ricky.
“The job could still be yours if Tabitha remains out. When do you think you’re coming back?” asked Jasmine, between mouthfuls of muffin.
“I don’t know. As soon as I can after the funeral, and we get things sorted out at Coodravale. But in my current shape, I couldn’t dance anyway. So, it’s better David doesn’t know I’m injured, okay?” She regarded Jasmine with a shrewd look.
“Got it. He won’t hear anything from me.” She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.
“Right. If everyone is finished, let’s get down to the business at hand, shall we?” Angel flipped open his yellow legal pad and steadied his pencil. “If you will excuse us, Jessie and I need to go over a few things.”
While Jasmine explored the main street to find a motel in which to stay the night, BJ and Ricky loitered outside the café.
“What a clusterfuck this has been for you, buddy.” Ricky leaned against the red brick wall, watching the local traffic cruise along the main street.
Standing like a twin beside him, BJ folded his arms. “I’ve never seen so much shit go down so fast since we were on tour. It’s like the whole world conspired against Jessie to see if she could be broken. But she’s still standing.” He shook his head thinking back on the past weeks.
“Anyway, it’s worked out. Skip Norton got arrested. Lucky for him you didn’t get to him first…” Half-smiling, Ricky shot his mate a sly glance. “Jessie seems to have come out of it pretty unscathed, and you seem to be more like the bloke I used to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t look like you’re going to kill the next poor bastard who looks at you sideways. Correct me if I’m wrong, but could you and Jessie…?”
“Jessie and I have decided to give it go.”
“Give what a go?”
“A relationship.”
“God, you make it sound so bloody calculated. You don’t give a relationship a go.” He stepped in front of his mate, locking him in a demanding stare. “Do you love her?”
“Well, it’s probably too early to…”
“Shit, man. It’s a simple question.”
“Yes. I think I do.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Now make it work.”
“Just a minute.” BJ pushed himself off the wall, usurping Ricky’s position of power. “Isn’t this the pot calling the kettle black? What did I see going on with you and Jasmine?”
“Just the usual. You know how it is…” He danced a two-step deflecting his buddy’s intense stare.
“Not so quick, Tricky.” BJ’s big paw clamped down on his mate’s shoulder. “Am I sensing another arrow in the air? Someone aside from me, falling under the spell of love?”
“Cut it out.” He slapped BJ’s hand away. “Well, maybe.”
“I knew it. I salute you. About time you thought of settling down.”
“There’s something about these dancers. Don’t you think? They’re just so damn sexy and …”
BJ raised his hand. “I hear you, Ricky. They’re a breed unto themselves. A bit like us.”
“Roger that.” He took a beat as his gaze settled across the road. “Hey, look, the RSL Club is open. Why don’t we go in and have a beer for the troops?”
“Now that sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”
By the time he and Jessie returned to the homestead, flaming colours burned the dusk sky as if forewarning the imminent bushfire season. Although day faded, its heat refused to wane. Even the wind making it daily pilgrimage from the Goodradigbee River sounded cranky and hot. Galloping to meet them, Whiskey whined a hello and was duly rewarded with praise for guarding the property in their absence.
“I’m beat.” Jessie sighed. “I’m going to have a quick shower. Then we’ll go in for dinner. There’s just no way we can get out of it tonight.”
“Fine by me. I’ll play with Whiskey for a while, feed her, then I’ll freshen up and we’ll go in.”
Within thirty minutes, they wandered back to the main residence for a family dinner. Pausing at the front door, he traced his thumb along her chin. “Take it easy. Okay? We can leave whenever you want. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
She reached up, kissing him softly on the lips. “Thanks. Let’s see what dramas are in store for us tonight?” She dredged up a sarcastic smile and opened the door.
Inside the dining room, the atmosphere crackled with a killer heat and strained conversation. Lots of small talk occupied the prickly silence. Frank, Hilda and Tom didn’t mention Jessie’s ordeal or Ken’s funeral. Instead, they skirted the obvious topics, chatting about unimportant things—Tom’s possible new promotion, Frank’s interest in vintage cars and Hilda’s plans to vacation on the north coast. Joanna, Richard and Jessie responded politely as they attended to their guests’ drinks needs. Even the creaking floorboards seemed to wince under the weight of unspoken words. When they took theirs seats for a light dinner of cold chicken and salad, the atmosphere dampened further as if smothered by a wet blanket.
“So what time are we leaving tomorrow, Mum?” Jessie broached the most pressing subject.
“We’ll leave here at eight and drive to the cemetery. Father Conlon will meet us there at about nine-thirty, ready for the funeral at ten.”
The clatter of Frank’s fork to the floor rattled already jangled nerves. He cast an apologetic glance to the others as he reached to collect it. Righting himself, he looked down his hawkish nose and vigorously rubbed the fork with his napkin. “Father Conlon you say, Joanna?”
“Yes, Frank. It was Ken’s wish to have Father Conlon preside over his funeral.”
“But Ken’s not been a practicing Catholic for years, decades, I would think?”
“Yes, you’re right. But it was one of the last things Ken said to me in hospital. Why? Is there a problem?”
BJ watched every head turn towards Frank.
“No. No. Of course not. I just thought it strange, after all these years that my brother would want a Catholic funeral.”
“I must say I thought it was a rather strange request as well.” Distracted, Joanna pushed her food around the plate. “But he kept saying something about when Jessie and Richard were young and how helpful Father had been to him.”
Unbeknown to the others, BJ was not the least interested in giving his attention to Joanna. He was far more absorbed in monitoring Frank’s reaction to the whole Father Conlon revelation. On first meeting Frank, BJ’s sixth sense had alerted and now as Joanna finished, Frank’s face paled like he’d been stuck and drained of blood.
“Have you met Father Conlon before, Mr Hilton?” BJ seized the moment.
“I may have done, years ago. I can’t remember.” Confused, and obviously shaken to be questioned by a relative stranger in such a direct manner, Frank stumbled. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s Ken’s funeral, and we ha
ve to respect his wishes.”
“And those of Joanna.” All heads snapped in BJ’s direction. He’d intentionally installed himself in a power positon in the family, making an unmistakable declaration as Joanna’s ally. As the Hiltons scrutinised him, he deferred to her and waited.
“Why thank you, Brad. That is most appreciated. It’s rare to find respectful young men these days.”
Everyone exhaled, except Frank who remained wooden, barely able to hide his contempt at being usurped.
“Are we doing a wake for Dad?” asked Jessie, her voice cracking with sadness.
“Yes, darling. We’ll just have a morning tea in town with friends, and then we’ll come home...” Joanna dropped her cutlery to the table, murmured her apologies and fled.
Jessie scurried after her mother, leaving BJ and Richard to manage the awkward meal with Frank, Hilda and Tom.
Sawing into his chicken, BJ glanced over at Tom. “So tell us more about this promotion you might get.”
Delighted to talk about himself, Tom regaled them with a lengthy soliloquy. By the time he finished, the plates were bare. Aided by Richard and BJ, Hilda cleared the table, obviously pleased for the assistance. As expected, Frank and Tom retired to do something other than help in the kitchen.
By the time BJ returned to the Garden Wing and readied to watch some television, Jessie shuffled through the French doors, red-eyed and slump-shouldered. Into his arms, she sobbed in small hiccups. “Poor Mum. I feel so sorry for her. I don’t know how she’s going to cope here all alone.”
“I’m sure she’ll work it out. Everyone needs to get through tomorrow first. Funerals are the hardest. Then we can think about what happens after that. Okay?” Thumbing her face upward, he bent down and pecked a kiss to her nose. “Now you need some rest. I’m putting you to bed.”
He escorted Jessie to her bedroom, where she changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed. Rolling the covers back across her chest, he leaned closer. “What time do you want to get up in the morning?”
“If I’m not up by six thirty, you better wake me. I’m not sure I’ll get much sleep though.”
“You will. You’re exhausted. Good night.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek.
Sliding her bandaged hand behind his neck, she pulled him closer, sealing her lips on his in passionate kiss.
“Whoa. This is not the time to be making love…” he said, although the stirring in his groin disagreed.
“But…” She pouted.
“Jessie, when we make love, it will be when we’re both happy. Definitely not the night before a funeral…especially not your father’s funeral.” He yearned to climb in with her. But not now, not like this.
“You’re right. When we’re both happy, deliriously happy. Good night.”
He waited as she rolled over. In no time, her breathing slowed and after a final stroke of her hair, he left the room.
Even from the dark depths of sleep, her scream woke him. Leaping out of bed, he sprinted to Jessie’s bedroom to find her sobbing, her head buried in her hands. Sliding in, he cradled her in his arms until her trembling subsided.
“It’s only a dream. A nightmare…” He kissed the top of her head as he reached over to switch on the bedside lamp.
Inclining her head upward, Jessie’s torment drew across her face. “I’m so sick of these nightmares, and I’m so tired. I can’t think straight. Round and round it goes in my head. Some man chasing me, touching me, telling me ugly secrets. When will I be free of all this?” Renewed sobbing shook her shoulders.
“You’re just wound up and worn out. It’ll pass. Is there anything I can do?”
“Will you sleep with me? Keep me company? Maybe with you beside me, I won’t dream…”
“Shuffle over.” He climbed into her bed. “How’s that?” He reached his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled onto his chest.
“Wonderful,” she murmured. “Just wonderful…”
“Now go to sleep. Everything will be fine.” He breathed in the fresh scent of her— soap, shampoo and enticing sexuality. Within moments she fell asleep, leaving him to his throbbing groin and gathering thoughts. He’d forgotten how good having a woman cuddle up next to him in bed felt. The simple joy of being the yang to a woman’s yin. That’s how Rachael used to describe them. Rachael. My darling, Rachael. Tonight the familiar ache at her memory didn’t rent his heart in two. It didn’t fill his mouth with bitterness. Instead, the memory tasted sweet, wholesome. Rachael had blessed him with her love, giving him Tiffany and an insight into how extraordinary life and love could be. Now with Jessie in his arms, he might just get another chance.
Chapter 39
The morning of Ken Hilton’s funeral burst forth like effervescent champagne. A glorious Wee Jasper Valley day bubbled with life as if in defiance of Jessie’s father’s death. In silence, she, Joanna and Richard perched in BJ’s Jeep as he drove them to Yass Cemetery. Little conversation was necessary. The day had been well planned and was now underway. All that remained for Jessie was dealing with the unknown—the service, the burial, the wake—all essential elements to farewelling a good man. Despite his sometimes detached exterior, her father had been a good man, a good provider, a good brother and a good father who she’d loved. Now, when his life was over, she realised she never knew him very well at all.
Free of their bandages, her hands lay limp in her lap, much like she imagined her father lay in his coffin. She twitched the thought away. Flicking her gaze out the passenger window, she admired the scenery as they drove along the top ridge overlooking the Murrumbidgee River. “How are you holding up, Mum?” She stuck her hand between the front seats towards Joanna who sat in the back with Richard.
“I’m okay…” She tweaked Jessie’s outstretched hand. “I’m pleased to see all your scrapes and scratches healing up so well. A principal ballerina must have unblemished skin, my darling.” Without warning, Joanna began sobbing.
Swivelling in her seat, Jessie cooed sympathetic sounds. “Oh, Mum…” She looked at Richard whose round, brown eyes pooled, as he embraced his mother.
“Mum, come on now. Come on,” he murmured into Joanna’s bowed head.
Straightening up, she blinked furiously and dabbed water from her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m fine now.” After a few more sniffles, she continued, “Thank you, Brad, for driving us in today.”
“Yes, thanks, BJ.” Richard reached over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
With a proud smile, Jessie squeezed his thigh.
“Not a problem,” he said. “Anything you need, just ask.”
In a cheekier tone, Richard directed to his sister, “So Jess, am I right in assuming you and BJ have become a bit of an item since arriving at Coodravale?”
“Richard, don’t be rude,” his mother scolded. “It’s none of our business.”
“It’s all right, Mum. Actually, we have,” she said, a sunny smile lighting her expression.
“Oh, Jessie. That’s wonderful.” Joanna sounded relieved at the happy news, but added more cautiously, “But that doesn’t change your plans with the Company does it?”
“Absolutely not, Joanna. There’s no way Jessie isn’t going for, or getting the top job. I’m behind her one hundred percent of the way.”
Jessie pursed her lips. “I can answer my own mother’s questions, thank you very much.”
Joanna and Richard chuckled.
“Watch yourself, BJ. Jess may come off as meek and mild, but she can be a real firecracker when she wants to.”
“I found that out the first night I met her.” A duly chastised expression spread on BJ’s face, and unable to resist, Jessie leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment.
“We’re just going to take our time and see how it goes.” She rubbed his strapping forearm, admiring the shape and strength of his muscles.
“A very sensible approach,” agreed Joanna. Despite the solemnity of the day, a more hopeful silence descended on the Jeep’s occupants.
On a steep hillside overlooking the town of Yass, the cemetery prostrated itself down the slope. Each level told the story of people dating back as far as the 1850s who chose this small town as their final resting place. Famous explorers, pious nuns, young drovers, old women and precious children joined the afterlife together from this vantage point.
“Drive on, BJ. The new cemetery is down the road a bit more on your left,” said Jessie. As the poplar-tree-lined road wound on, the cattle in the paddocks to the right peered at them with expressions of indifference. He turned onto a gravel driveway into the modern section of the cemetery and parked beside a wall of sculptured acacia trees. Creeping in beside them, Frank pulled up in his sturdy Holden sedan.
Silent and thoughtful, they stepped out of the Jeep. Jessie and Richard flanked their mother, while Jessie waved BJ beside her, clasping his hand. Under clipped arches of massive acacia hedges, they walked in procession. The lawn cemetery sprawled in front of them, covering acres of land. Neat rows of concrete pathways crisscrossed the occupied burial blocks, ensuring visitors remained off the grass and the dearly departed. Decorated with meticulously manicured red and white rose bushes, each burial plot’s brass plague shone in the sunlight like a beacon, showing the angels where to find the souls of the dead.
In the near distance, under a towering eucalypt tree, Father Conlon waved. “Joanna, my dear. Jessie, Richard, it’s so wonderful to see you again.” Drawing each one to his chest, he kissed them politely on the cheek. “It is a sad day indeed. Ken was a good man. He will be missed.”
“Father, this is my boyfriend, BJ.” Jessie tingled. Calling BJ her boyfriend added seriousness to their blossoming relationship. One she liked more than she expected.
“Pleased to meet you, Father Conlon.”
“And you too, BJ…”
“You know Ken’s brother, Frank, his wife Hilda and their son Tom…” Joanna stepped aside to allow the priest to greet the rest of the family. His smile stiffened slightly, but he graciously gave his condolences.
Retribution: Who would you kill to escape your past? Page 21