House for All Seasons

by Jenn J. McLeod

  ‘And this is your idea of no pressure?’ Sara couldn’t stop herself smiling.

  ‘Dom will tell you I’m not the sharpest knife in the block, but these last few days I’ve been thinking. Mostly about the other night, what you told me. Seems to me that something is handing us a second chance here.’

  ‘A second chance?’ Sara tried to wriggle free. ‘Will, come on, the children. Let me go.’

  ‘I don’t want to let you go. Don’t you get that?’ Commanding hands cupped the sides of Sara’s face, drawing her closer, their mouths almost touching.

  ‘This is too sudden. The timing … it’s not good.’

  ‘Sudden!’ he whooped. ‘Twenty years too late, more like it.’

  ‘Daaaaad! You comin’ or what?’ Jasper called from his vantage point.

  ‘We’ll be there in a minute, buddy. Bait the hook,’ he called, then in a low voice said, ‘I’m hookin’ myself up with Sara.’

  ‘Behave yourself, Will.’ Sara tried a serious face, but it was hard to act her age while seated on the man’s lap. ‘It isn’t just about us. We’re all grown up. You have your kids and my future is—’

  ‘Daaaaaaaaaad!’ Jazzy screeched. ‘Dad, come quick, Jasper’s making me eat worms.’

  ‘Uh-oh! That can’t be good.’ His children finally had their father’s full attention.

  Trouble was, Sara was just getting used to his arms. Their bodies were a whisper away from each other and she couldn’t be any more aware, any more exhilarated, or any more desperate to have Will keep holding her tight. But he was a father first.

  ‘I think you’re needed, Dad.’

  Will loosened his hold. ‘Finish what you were about to say first. Your future is what?’

  Sara planted a peck on Will’s cheek and hopped off his lap. ‘My future is uncertain if Jennifer gets wind of this. After the week of warning looks I’ve suffered, she’s likely to kill me before anything else does.’

  ‘Daaaaad!’

  12

  ‘Sara?’ Jazzy whispered a few days later at the café. ‘Do you know what Santa’s bringing me?’

  Christmas was not far away.

  How was that possible?

  The local Chamber of Commerce had adopted a policy to encourage businesses along the main street to get into the festive spirit by decorating shopfronts in the lead up to the season. The result was an excess of snow-in-a-can shop windows—stencilled images of Christmas trees, snowflakes and Santas. They made no sense to Sara—never had—so she boldly suggested the café outlaw its use, opting for recycled decorations like the paper chains that she and Jazzy were making from old Christmas wrap. For an hour each day after school while they waited for their grandmother, Sara and the kids would raid the kitchen for new materials. They turned tinfoil into hanging stars, strung garlands of paper-lace doilies they’d recycled from latte saucers, and made candle-holders out of takeaway cups filled with sand, colouring the cups with green and red marker pens. Collecting sand from the swimming hole had been Jasper’s contribution.

  For Sara, it seemed the words Christmas and celebrate no longer stuck in her throat, and the sound of carols made her want to sing rather than cry. Since the fishing day at the bridge, she’d let herself stop worrying and enjoy Will’s flirtations. What was the harm? She was having fun—they both were—laughing, playing practical jokes on each other and ganging up on poor Dom, who enjoyed every minute of the attention. Will had said at the bridge that she needed to replace the bad with good.

  Sara made a point of doing just that.

  Will organised a Christmas party for staff and invited sales reps and suppliers. Some even came out from Saddleton. Everyone, including Sara, Jennifer, and the kitchen hand—his arm still in plaster—received a box of Dom’s hand-decorated Santa Claus cookies, and for the first time in years Sara was looking forward to the Christmas celebrations.

  Until Caroline Travelli’s invitation.

  *

  Now, on the other side of the summer solstice, clocks still forward one hour, the sun still shining at 7.30 pm, Sara made her way out to Will’s house. The ominous grey clouds blanketing Calingarry Crossing that afternoon had threatened a late rainstorm and she wondered if a summer downpour would flood the two low crossings on the road to Will’s house. Through the final gate, the last of the setting sun at her back, Sara had to laugh at the runway of Santa Stop Here signs, as if the jolly old man’s reindeer would be flying into the Travellis’ via the driveway.

  Someone had gone overboard with the decorations. Every crass Christmas cliché had made its way to the front veranda, although she noticed Will’s private entrance at the far end was a little less showy. Two giant round wreaths laced with red velvet ribbon and adorned with artificial pine needles and cones overwhelmed the double front door, two golden papier-mâché reindeer standing sentry. Alternate red and green fairy lights entwined the eight concrete support columns that ran the length of the tiled veranda, and the dreaded snow stencils decorated each glass panel of the bay windows.

  Will waited on the veranda, looking like a puppy left alone for too long.

  Here goes.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ he called.

  With her arms cradling wrapped presents, car keys gripped between clenched teeth, Sara tapped the car door closed with her backside and forced a grin. Then she adjusted her load, managing to jam the keys in the pocket of her cargo pants, and took her first tentative steps towards Caroline’s very festive front door.

  ‘Where’s the welcoming committee?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s just me. The dogs are locked away. Don’t want them scaring Santa off, if Caroline’s decorations haven’t done that already.’

  ‘Do I look like I’m shaking?’

  ‘You look great.’

  ‘Why do I feel sixteen again?’

  ‘Maybe ’cause you still look it.’

  ‘And why am I here?’

  ‘Do you know you ask too many questions?’ He took her hand and squeezed, his voice softening. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Sara. Now come on in. I’ll protect you from Sweet Caroline.’

  ‘Do I need protecting? Oh, sorry, that was another question.’

  Pine-scented candles lit the entry foyer, telling Sara there was probably an artificial, over-tinselled Christmas tree somewhere to match.

  And there it was, taking pride of place in the living room where Doug and Caroline Travelli waited—posed, expectant, elegant.

  ‘Sara, how lovely you look—doesn’t she, Douglas?’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Travelli. Merry Christmas.’

  ‘You remember Will’s father, of course.’

  ‘It’s nice to see you again, Mr Travelli.’

  ‘Now, now, none of that, Sara. Doug and Caroline will be fine.’ The man, an older version of Will with a receding hairline and the same cheeky sparkle to his eyes, left his wife sipping sherry on the cream leather sofa and walked over to Sara.

  Doug Travelli winked before kissing her on the cheek, muttering, ‘We call her Sweet Caroline—just don’t go bursting into song, Sara lass. She can’t stand Neil Diamond.’

  ‘I’ll try not to,’ Sara whispered back behind a smile.

  ‘We’ve heard so much about you, Sara,’ Caroline said. ‘I had no idea you and Will were so close. Nor can I believe my son’s waited so long to introduce us properly.’

  Something in the way Caroline spoke sounded a warning in Sara’s head, or maybe it was the way her voice pitched up and down like a roller-coaster that made it sound like a wailing siren.

  ‘Mum, you hardly needed introducing.’ Will shook his head, in the way only a cheeky but loving son can and still get away with it. ‘Sara lived down the street for almost twenty years and you’ve seen her how many times at the café since she’s been back?’

  ‘Sara, Sara!’ Jazzy barged through the door to the living room, her timing perfect. She slammed into Sara, almost knocking her off balance.

  ‘Oh, what a very big hug. Thank you, Jazzy.’

>   ‘Let go of Sara, honey.’ Will’s giant but gentle hand almost engulfed his daughter’s shoulder as he lovingly peeled her away.

  The little girl stepped back and thrust out a hand towards Sara; something greeny-brown and slightly squished lay on her chubby open palm.

  ‘What have you got there?’ Sara asked.

  ‘A wish. It’s lucky.’

  ‘A wish?’ It looked like a dead stalk until Sara looked closer. ‘Oh, yes. I see it now.’

  A scattering of tiny brown seeds on Jazzy’s palm was all that remained of the once fragile gossamer ball of the dandelion.

  ‘Nooooo, you can’t see.’ She giggled the words. ‘S’all gone. I phoofed on it. Like this.’ Jazzy held the limp stalk to her mouth and puffed it like a birthday candle.

  ‘I know all about the dandelion flower.’

  ‘They call them wet-the-beds, don’t they?’ Will winked at Sara.

  ‘Nooooo!’ Jazzy insisted. ‘It’s a wish flower, and when you blow, phoof, your wish comes true. But I blown this one already. And it worked,’ she gloated.

  ‘How do you know it worked, darling?’ Doug said.

  ‘I know ’cause I wished my daddy would give us a new mummy for Christmas, and he has.’

  Caroline Travelli almost spat out her wine. ‘Jasmine, you should be in bed. Where’s your brother?’ She launched herself off the sofa and scurried across, snapping up Jazzy’s hand on the run.

  ‘He’s playing Space Monkey on the com-pu-ta.’

  ‘Well, say goodnight to your father and I’ll tuck you in and read you that little book you love so much.’

  ‘But Daaaaad!’ Jazzy whined.

  ‘Tonight’s for the grownups, pumpkin. I explained that. So night-night. Where’s my special hug?’

  The special hug was cute, a combination of a secret handshake, followed by Jazzy’s wobbly pirouette, a funky arm movement from her dad and a neck hug. The ritual seemed so natural it made Will’s wheelchair invisible, just a father and his young daughter.

  ‘You’ll see Sara tomorrow. She’s not going anywhere.’ Will arched an eyebrow and grinned.

  ‘Goody. Night-night, Sara.’ Jazzy made a move towards her for another hug, but Caroline’s firm grip scooted her away.

  ‘I think that’s enough goodnights, don’t you? Let’s find your brother.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jazzy.’ Sara blew a kiss as Caroline whisked the child from the room.

  ‘I’m just throwing together a cheese plate in the kitchen. Won’t be long,’ Will said.

  ‘I’ll help.’ Sara started to follow, but Will signalled stop with his hand.

  ‘I don’t need help. It’s all under control.’

  *

  ‘Always was an independent lad,’ Doug Travelli said when Will left the two of them alone. ‘Knows what he wants, and he knows his way around a kitchen these days too, that’s for sure.’ The man walked to the bar built into the corner of the room and set out four stemmed glasses, pouring champagne while he spoke. ‘I don’t know why he designed a separate wing on the house. Waste of money. He would’ve been better off investing his insurance payout. It’s not as if he spends much time in there anyway. He’s in here with us and the kids most nights.’

  ‘Jaz and Jasper live here? With you and Caroline?’ Suspicion stiffened Sara’s tone. She couldn’t help it. From the way Will spoke, Sara thought he and the children remained largely independent of his parents, albeit only metres, a covered pathway, or, apparently, a loud yell away.

  ‘Oh you know, Will’s busy and he has trouble keeping up with them sometimes. Children! Especially energetic growing ones. They keep Caroline and me fit and healthy and young. Caroline’s a champion, though. She’s given so much. But then children give so much back, don’t you think?’ He hardly needed Sara to respond; Doug Travelli seemed more than capable of having a conversation all by himself. ‘Anyway, she’d be lost without them. Oh, yes, we both know they’ll be gone one day, but not for a long while yet, thank goodness. She’s a terrific mother—terrific. Champagne to whet your appetite?’

  ‘Hmm? Oh, yes, thanks.’ Sara noticed the tremor in her hand as she accepted the flute and placed it on the lamp table to her left, the man’s words banging inside her brain.

  A terrific mother? To whom?

  Sara had her answer to that when Caroline returned, gooing and gushing over the way Jasmine called her Mum-Mum. Thankfully, Will arrived with the cheese plate at the same time and for a while they discussed safe topics—like cheese.

  When the conversation stalled, Sara tried a traditional starter. ‘You’ve done a lovely job decorating the house, Caroline.’

  ‘I call it the compo castle,’ Will chipped in. ‘Not a bad way to spend half a mill.’

  ‘Now, Will,’ his mother scolded. ‘You know we shouldn’t discuss such vulgar things as money in front of a stranger.’ Caroline rose, stalking the room like a lioness asserting her dominance. ‘Sara doesn’t need to know all that. She’s simply here for the summer. Isn’t that right?’ Without waiting for an answer, the lioness attacked from behind, wrapping her protective paws around her cub’s neck and planting a kiss on Will’s head. ‘Why don’t we move into the dining room? You can help me serve, darling.’

  *

  Not surprisingly, Caroline Travelli monopolised the conversation over dinner, Sara feigning interest in the upcoming Country Women’s Association Autumn Craft Exhibition, while pushing Will’s wandering hand off her leg under the table. Twenty years ago it used to be her plaits he’d teased. He’d sat behind her in class tugging her long hair at every opportunity. Tonight, playing handsies under the table as grownups was turning out to be much more fun, although she was glad when they all retired to the living room again.

  ‘How about a little music?’ Caroline suggested, pointing the remote control at the sleek entertainment system stacked under the wall-mounted plasma screen. A thunderous boom shook the walls as Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’ blared. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Will!’ Caroline yelled and fumbled with the remote as Will’s chair rocketed across the room.

  ‘Sorry, Mum.’ He twisted the volume dial on the unit. ‘My fault. I was teaching Jazzy how to do hip-hop yesterday.’

  The giggle Sara had bitten back at the look on Caroline’s face wouldn’t be silenced. ‘Hip-hop?’ she gushed. ‘To that song? I’d like to see you try.’

  ‘Ah, I do like a challenge, Ms Fraser. Are you daring me?’

  ‘No, Will, I didn’t mean that. I—’

  ‘Sounds like a dare to me,’ he teased. ‘Come on. Let’s boogie.’

  He wheeled back to the sofa and tried dragging Sara to her feet, but she braced herself with one hand on the arm of her seat and a foot hard up against the wheelchair to fend him off.

  ‘Come on, Sara, dance with me.’ He attempted a few strange hip-hoppy arm movements.

  ‘Will, stop that,’ Caroline snapped, panic edging her voice up an octave. ‘Be careful with him, Sara. Don’t knock him out of his chair. You won’t be any help getting him back in. You’re just not strong enough to be of any use at all.’

  The lioness was suddenly a life-draining, fun-sucking monster, her reprimand knocking Sara back into her seat.

  ‘Mum!’ It was Will’s turn to chastise his mother.

  ‘Well, for heaven’s sake, Will, you’re a grown man. Act your age.’

  ‘I don’t want to act my age. I want to party.’

  ‘Well, the party’s over.’ Finally in control of the remote, Caroline waved it at the sound system and the room thudded to a hush.

  ‘The party was over six years ago,’ Will mumbled.

  For an excruciating moment, the only sound to break the strained silence was the buzz-click, buzz-click of Christmas beetles clipping the windows in their desperate attempt to reach the lights inside Caroline’s air-conditioned castle. Sara couldn’t see the ground outside from where she sat, but she could picture the little gold-backed bugs dropping, legs writhing as they buzzed in helpless ci
rcles on their backs.

  A beetle on its back. Useless, like me obviously.

  Sara shuddered, the air-conditioning suddenly chilling her to the bone.

  ‘Maybe I should get going.’ She made a quick grab at her handbag and stood to leave, wondering if either of Will’s parents would say stay.

  They didn’t.

  Will didn’t either, the look on his face confirming that her leaving was best for everyone.

  ‘Thank you for dinner, Caroline, Doug.’

  In the few seconds it took for her and Will to reach the front door, Caroline’s voice permeated the walls. ‘Will, don’t forget your father wanted to talk to you tonight, and he’s getting tired.’

  Will launched into an air guitar rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’, screeching, ‘Good times … twang, twang, twang,’ so his mother could hear, then grumbled, ‘Good times? What bloody good times?’

  Away from the room of gloom, Sara could laugh at his antics, only just. Tonight had given her a glimpse into Will’s life that was nothing like she’d imagined. Ironically, Sara thought she’d been the one caged by her situation at home all those years ago, while Will had been free to chase his dream career. Now Will was trapped, and in the worst possible way, making Sara wonder if the larrikin behaviour was genuine, or rather the cover for a deep-seated sadness.

  ‘You so can’t dance, Travelli.’ She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, a slow, soft connection that lingered until she felt the pressure of his hand on her back. She resisted, pulling away. ‘Next time Jazzy wants to learn how, let me show her.’

  ‘Well, that music teacher was right, Fraser. You so can’t sing. Reckon that makes us a great pair, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Will, honey!’ Caroline yodelled.

  ‘Bloody hell. Welcome to my world, Sara. I’m sorry about tonight.’

  ‘Hey, I thought you banned that word. Besides, I did have a good time despite what you may think. They’re your parents, Will. You need to treasure that.’

  He still had hold of her hand. ‘I do—really. Sometimes, though, the way they remind me I have a disability pisses me off. Just forget it. It doesn’t matter.’