Soon there was a small group of men, and a lad of about fifteen, standing around introducing themselves and shaking hands with Jake. Emily smiled and nodded at Grant and Steve, and raised her hand in greeting. They were the only two in the group she recognised. Their presence made her feel a little less self-conscious about being the only woman. She watched as Jake unrolled David’s map on the bonnet of the nearest ute and gestured at the paddock, telling them it was the one that they’d just sowed and then indicating where it was on the map.
Heads nodded, voices mumbled. Emily felt a part of it, but also separate. But she didn’t mind. She was suddenly feeling very weary. The day was catching up with her. She turned at hearing a voice very near.
‘Okay if I drive your tractor?’ the young lad asked shyly.
She blinked, frowned slightly, and then nodded. Of course it was actually her tractor, just like the farm and all its equipment. The probate notification had arrived in the mail a few weeks ago.
‘Thanks, that’d be great,’ she said, offering the lad a warm smile. She didn’t need to ask if he knew how – around here kids were driving from as young as eight years of age, often propped up on cushions they had to get down off in order to stomp on the brakes and clutch.
Thankfully with tractors, the throttle was hand operated and so once you got going you didn’t need to be able to reach the floor until you wanted to stop. Emily had had to slide off the seat slightly to reach the pedals, but then they hadn’t taken the time to adjust the seat for her shorter legs – it wasn’t as necessary as when driving a car.
The lad moved away and Emily made her way around the group to Jake.
‘I’m going to head off,’ she said. ‘I’ll take Grace with me.’
‘Righto. Thanks for your help; you saved us a heap of time,’ Jake said, smiling warmly at her.
Emily smiled back, pleased with her accomplishment. ‘Thanks.’
‘Good idea to take Grace. It’s getting too busy and dangerous – especially with the sun going down. Can you pick up Sasha on your way past the house? We should take her home with us.’
Emily gave him a quick hug and kiss, feeling a little ill-at-ease at being watched by so many who knew she’d so recently been John Stratten’s wife.
‘Come on Gracie, let’s go see your mum,’ she said as she turned the car around.
Chapter Thirty-two
Emily stopped the car outside the shearing shed where she knew Sasha liked to snooze the day away. Her heart ached when she thought about how quiet the place was. There wasn’t even a squawking or chirping bird to be heard.
Grace raced ahead and disappeared through the gap where the door was always left ajar for Sasha. Emily looked through the small opening and blinked while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She spied Grace’s white tip.
‘Come on Sasha, girl,’ she called. ‘You’re going on a little holiday.’
Grace trotted past her and back into the daylight. And then Emily felt a gentle nudge to her leg. Sasha was looking up at her and waving her tail slowly back and forth. Seeing how forlorn the dog looked, Emily had to swallow hard to stop herself from giving in to tears.
Though, really, she told herself, Sasha didn’t look any sadder than usual – she was a quiet, pensive-looking creature at the best of times. Did she have any idea of the drama going on within her family? She’d been fed, which was probably all that mattered to her. She wasn’t a pampered house dog like Grace. Barbara and David came and went from the place quite a bit; nothing was really out of order for her yet.
Emily drove home with Sasha and Grace, thinking about where she’d put the older dog. Sasha wasn’t used to living inside. She could put her in the outdoor laundry, but then she might whine at the door, wanting to be with her daughter. And if she left Grace out there the spoilt younger dog was sure to demand to be let in as soon as it got chilly.
In the end, she decided to set up another bed in the kitchen and just keep her fingers crossed that Sasha was smart enough to ask when she needed to go outside. David might be a little annoyed at her turning Sasha into a softy, but that was just too bad. She was playing Auntie Em, and could spoil her if she wanted to!
At home, Grace was ecstatic about having canine company. She trotted around after Emily while she gathered extra bedding and bowls, pausing to give Sasha a smooch every time she passed her.
The older dog stood in the one spot patiently looking on, seeming to take it all in. When everything was set up, she lay on her bed as instructed.
Emily sat at the table and looked at both dogs. Their demeanours were so different. Grace was curled up snoozing contentedly. But Sasha crouched with her head on her paws, her eyes following Emily’s every move. Her heart lurched again as she looked at the sad expression.
She looked away and tried to blink back the forming tears. But they kept on coming. She folded her arms on the table, laid her head on them and let the tears flow. She felt so sad for Barbara and David, and so helpless, and so bloody guilty. How cruel of fate to do this just when everything was going so well. It wasn’t fair.
Finally the tears stopped and she pulled a wad of tissues from her sleeve, mopped her face, and then blew her nose. The two dogs were sitting at attention, heads identically cocked in concern, looking at her.
Wanting to feel a little less disconnected, she picked up the phone, found David’s number, and dialled. Her heart pounded slowly and heavily while she waited for it to start ringing. It was answered straight away.
‘Hi Em,’ David said.
‘Oh David, I’m so sorry. I was out at the farm and Jake told me.’
‘We’re pretty shattered.’ He sounded like every word was a huge effort to get out.
‘I wish there was something I could say.’
‘I know. There’s nothing anyone can say. We just have to do our best to get through it. At least we have each other,’ he said, sounding less than convinced.
‘How is Barbara doing?’
‘Trying to put on a brave face. You know how she is. I’m really worried about her, Em. She won’t talk about it – to me or anyone.’
‘Would she talk to me, do you think?’ Emily asked.
‘I tried to suggest it, but I think she’s still too shocked.’
‘Would it help if I came over?’ Emily asked. At the same time she looked down at the dogs and wondered who would look after them if she went away. It was too much to put on Jake while he was busy with the cropping. And while her father would happily take over, her mother would have a fit if she even suggested having a dog in her house. Enid Oliphant did not do pets – inside or out.
‘It’s lovely of you to offer, but it’s a hell of a long way to come.’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she said.
‘I know you wouldn’t. We’ll be home in a few days. Until then, I’m hoping she’ll agree to see the counsellor here.’
And what about you? She hoped David wasn’t ignoring his own needs whilst keeping it all together for both of them.
‘I’ve already seen him,’ David said. ‘It helps to talk. I’ve just got to convince Barbara of that.’
‘Well, if anyone can, you can,’ Emily said lamely.
‘So, how are things with you two?’ David asked, taking her by surprise.
‘Us? We’re just worried about you guys,’ she said.
‘I hear you’ve had a go at driving your first tractor. Well done.’
Emily smiled despite herself. ‘How could you possibly know that already?’
‘Bob rang just before. He said you did really well.’
‘You’ll see just how well, or otherwise, when your crop comes up,’ Emily said, allowing herself the tiniest chuckle.
‘Indeed we will. I really appreciate everything you guys are doing. Words can’t really express…’
Emily sensed him choking up and cut in. ‘It’s our pleasure, David. We’d do anything for you guys. I just wish we didn’t have to, not like this,’ she said, choking up again herself. She
swallowed hard and cleared her throat. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got Sasha here with me.’
‘Turning my dog into a softy, I suppose?’ She could tell he was smiling.
‘Yep. Good luck turfing her back outside when you get home.’
David let out a small laugh. ‘Oh well, worse things happen at sea,’ he said.
A heavy silence enveloped them.
‘I’d better let you get back to Barbara,’ Emily finally said. ‘Please give her my love and tell her I’m thinking of her – you both – every second. If there’s anything at all you need, just let us know.’
‘Thanks, Em. You’re a gem. And thanks for the call.’
‘You just take good care. Hopefully we’ll see you soon.’
‘Okay. Bye then.’
Emily hung up, relieved to have the call over with. If only she could have been there to wrap her arms around them instead. No words would have been needed.
‘Right,’ she said to the dogs, ‘we’ve got some cooking to do,’ and went to her freezer to look for inspiration.
‘What’s all this?’ Jake asked later that night when he finally walked in looking dirty, worn and dishevelled. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting, in, er, your condition, oh mother-of-my-child-to-be,’ he said, grinning and sweeping her to him.
‘I’m fine. Need to keep busy. It’s for Barbara and David. Spaghetti bolognaise, beef stroganoff, lamb casserole, and chicken cacciatore,’ Emily said, pointing. ‘I spoke to David. I’m not sure when they’ll be home – maybe in a few days – but when they do, I don’t want them to worry about cooking for a while.’
‘Good idea,’ he said, nuzzling her neck. ‘Oh hello, you,’ he said, spying Sasha on the floor looking up at him. ‘I hope David’s not going to object to you being spoilt.’
‘He’s fine with it. I told him. I couldn’t leave her out in the cold in a strange place.’
‘How was he?’
‘Holding up remarkably well, I’d say, though it’s hard to tell.’
‘Hmm.’
‘So, what do you fancy for tea?’ Emily asked. ‘Take your pick.’
‘Oh, beef stroganoff, please. I haven’t had it for years.’
‘Good. Well, you go and have a shower and then you can tell me all about the last couple of hours.’
‘Okay. You’re the best, Em,’ he said, kissing her on the top of the head. ‘Have I told you that lately?’
‘Yep, but feel free to repeat yourself,’ she said, grinning at him.
*
The next morning, after a quick trip into Wattle Creek, Emily drove home with a boot full of groceries and enough ingredients to bake a small mountain of cake and biscuits for Barbara and David. Thankfully she had arrived early enough to miss the older shoppers – who tended not to leave the house before ten – and later than those who popped in to fill lunchboxes before school. She practically had the supermarket to herself.
She was relieved that no one stopped her to ask about Barbara and David. It was not her business to discuss. And with hormones messing with her emotions and causing her to cry at the drop of a hat, she didn’t want to embarrass herself by crumbling in public. That wouldn’t help anyone.
As she passed the bakery, she remembered their first lunch there, and began to miss Barbara all over again. They hadn’t caught up for lunch for months. She’d been too busy with Jake and the cottage and everything. Now she wished she’d made more effort. Maybe Barbara would have been more at ease with the baby and everything and…
‘Oh dear, little one,’ she told her stomach, ‘it’s not your fault, but this is not going to be easy.’ Emily sighed.
What should be an exciting time was anything but. She still wasn’t feeling all gooey and maternal. She cared about the little being growing inside her, she really did, but she was also very concerned about how the news would affect Barbara and David. How could they possibly tell them? And when? What would poor Barbara think, watching Emily’s belly grow bigger and bigger, knowing how close she’d come to having her own child only to have it snatched away?
‘It’s all a bit of a mess, isn’t it,’ she said, stroking her belly as she drove.
Emily was usually happy when she was on a baking mission, and could block out most other things. Today, though, the tasks that had become automatic over many years gave her too much space to think. Normally that was a good thing; she’d worked her way through many a problem whilst rolling out dough, mixing cake batter or dropping balls of soft biscuit mixture onto trays, pushing it flat with a fork or poking cherries or almonds into the tops with a finger. Today it just made her sad and worried.
Some of the items she cooked were Barbara’s favourites and she was taken back to the day they had spent cooking up a storm for David’s father’s funeral and the CWA trading table. Today the happy memories were tinged with sadness, so Emily didn’t linger like she normally would, stretching out the enjoyable experience as long as possible.
Whilst everything was cooling enough to package up, she checked her emails. There was a message from Simone. She opened it to see a beautiful image of arched shapes within a circle, the main colour being salmon pink. Was it architectural or a design from somewhere else? It looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Being so different from the pieces Emily had previously seen, she was excited to know more.
From: Simone Lonigan
Subject: Busy artist at work
To: Emily Oliphant
Cc: Jake Lonigan
Hi Emily (and Jake),
Thanks so much again for your wonderful hospitality. I would have loved to have stayed longer. Oh, well, no rest for the wicked, as they say! I’ve been painting like a demon at any moment I can get. And totally loving it! Thanks so much again for the kickstart!
Here’s a pic of a small piece I did last night. Working title is Gothic Sunset – hence the pink tones. It’s the window at the top of the gorgeous Gothic ANZ Bank on Collins and Queen – yes, inspiration taken from Jake’s lovely photo. It’s been raining cats and dogs here since I got back, so I haven’t been able to get out with my camera. But hopefully I will soon. I want to have a good variety for you to choose from for the exhibition.
Hope you guys are well. Please send my best to Barbara and David – I did so love meeting them.
Lots of love,
Simone xx
Emily felt a new wave of sadness. Jake would have to phone and tell her about Barbara. She forced her attention back to the more positive: Simone’s lovely art and the pace she was working at.
If Simone could continue to work so quickly, an opening in the not-too-distant future wouldn’t be a problem. It was looking likely that it would be in winter.
When she and Jake had discussed it the other night, she’d said she thought people ought to be given at least six weeks’ notice – that was the etiquette with wedding invites, anyway. Jake thought they could get away with a month and they’d struck a compromise where he would email an advance notice of a general time period to those he wanted to come from Melbourne. He’d do that in the next few days when he finished tractor driving.
Emily wrote a quick reply.
From: Emily Oliphant
Subject: RE: Busy artist at work
To: Simone Lonigan
Cc: Jake Lonigan
Hi Simone,
It really was wonderful having you stay. We wish you could have stayed longer too. But, wow, you’re really burning the midnight oil – I hope not literally! I love the image. It’s gorgeous. I’m looking forward to seeing what else you come up with.
Jake’s off on the tractor up at David’s property and I’ve been cooking up a storm – just because. Better run and rescue a batch of biscuits before they burn!
Happy painting!
Lots of love,
Emily xx
She reread her message before sending and cringed at her few white lies. They were small enough not to matter, weren’t they? She couldn’t tell Simone via email what was really goin
g on. She pressed ‘send’.
As she turned off the computer, she wondered if the image would be suitable for the invitations. She was keen to get them finalised and off to a printer.
There were quite a few fiddly things left to get done. Jake was looking after most of them, but they were still on her mind.
She remained undecided about the sign having an actual button jar on it. Were they running the risk of looking too quaint and unsophisticated? The last thing she wanted was to be mistaken for a hospital auxiliary shop selling tea cosies, lamingtons, and crocheted knee rugs in local footy team colours. Not that there was anything wrong with that – it just wasn’t what she had in mind for her business.
Jake kept assuring her the logo would be classy, but so far she was yet to see an actual design. Maybe just plain block lettering on a cream background might be better – ruby red to match the glossy front door and other timber highlights. Or perhaps on a gold background.
Chapter Thirty-three
Emily pondered the sign as she drove out to Barbara and David’s. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that they were over-complicating things by including a logo. They should just stick with the plain and classic:
THE BUTTON JAR
Fine Art and…?
Fine art and what? Bric-a-brac? No, too casual. Homewares? A bit too limiting. Knick-knacks? Curios? No, to Emily these words suggested wares of an ordinary nature, and diminished the term fine art. And it was definitely fine art she would be selling, as opposed to decorative art; the stuff brought in by the container load from China.
Sure, she’d be selling the odd jar of jam, but the focus was to be art. If only she could think of the right word for an eclectic mix of good-quality stuff. Was there one? Until then, it would simply be:
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