Cross My Heart

by Pamela Cook

  The light in the room had dimmed. Tess took her final mouthful of tea and tilted her head to listen. A light pattering on the tin roof gradually grew louder. Time to get Grace back inside.

  A steady stream was already falling as she opened the back door. The bench seat beneath the white gum, where Grace usually liked to sit and read, was empty. ‘Grace.’ Tess stretched her voice over the drumming of the rain. ‘Grace, are you there?’ There was no sign of her in any direction.

  ‘Where is she?’ Her mother joined her in the doorway.

  ‘If I knew that I wouldn’t be calling her.’ So much for their détente. Tess rushed back inside and opened the front door, stepped out onto the porch and called again.

  No reply.

  ‘Grace!’ She called louder now, over and over, her heartbeat picking up pace along with her footsteps as she stalked up and down.

  ‘Where could she be?’

  The pounding on the tin roof was so loud it was hard to think straight. A grey circle of trees flanked the left-hand side of house. Out back, the shed was padlocked, so she wouldn’t be in there. There had to be somewhere else, somewhere she might go if she was feeling like she wanted to be close to Skye …

  The creek! From the way Grace had spoken, it sounded like it was within walking distance. But where exactly?

  Rushing inside, Tess grabbed a coat and weathered old hat hanging on a hook by the door, raced out the back and pulled on a pair of gumboots. Almost as an afterthought she turned to her mother. ‘I have an idea where she might be. You wait here in case she comes home.’ Without waiting for a response, she dashed down the steps and darted around the yard, peering between the trees for a clue. Rain beat into her eyes, making it hard to see. Using her hands as a shield, she searched around for any possible sign of a track until she spotted a rough path leading through the bushes.

  A voice rang out from the house, but the rain and the thumping of her own feet on the hard ground drowned out the words. The trail was narrow, arching trees on either side providing a brief shelter. Rivulets of water trickled along its edges, snaking into crevices and washing across the carpet of leaf litter, making the track hard to navigate. At the bend she almost slipped, saving herself by grabbing onto a branch of wattle, the sulphurous yellow baubles so intense against the drab, grey sky. Was that where Grace had come to pick the bouquet for the funeral?

  The path veered to the right and then downhill through a wide expanse of paddock, forcing her back to a brisk walk. A sprained ankle would render her completely useless. At the bottom of the hill a creek cut across the slope, pulling her up short. Water swirled at her feet, over and around mounds of rocks and channelling into a tunnel of trees. Raindrops needled the surface and the creek burbled and sang. The sound was mesmerising. Even in the pouring rain it was a beautiful place, but there was no sign of Grace. Tess squinted into the distance. The trail followed the creek, further down the hill until it disappeared around a corner. She swiped away the water pooling in the brim of her hat and ran between the sparse line of trees fringing the banks, winding around in what felt like a full circle. This was getting her nowhere.

  A sharp pain jabbed below her ribs.

  ‘Shit.’ She bent forward, hands on knees, waiting for it to pass. And then, as she straightened up she saw her, like a mirage through the teeming rain: a small, crumpled figure perched on a fallen tree trunk, staring into the murky pond.

  Taking deliberate steps, Tess moved forward. She lowered herself down against the trunk a short distance away. Everything inside her was racing, her chest heaving from the exertion, her mind whirling with all the things she could say. All the ways she could get it wrong. Rain was dribbling into the little girl’s eyes, her hair hung soaked, that damned red ribbon drooping by her temple. She was hunched up like a crab hiding inside its shell, but there was an unmistakeable quiver in her jaw. Moving guardedly so as not to startle her, Tess dragged her arms from the heavy coat and draped it around Grace. She was already wet through, but the protection it provided might keep her a little warmer.

  ‘I thought she would be here.’ Finally. Grace’s voice shuddered along with her body. She turned, tried to blink the rain from her eyes. ‘Remember? You said she would be in her favourite place. We always came here to the creek.’

  All those special moments the two of them must have shared.

  ‘But she’s not here.’

  There was nothing to say. No way to explain to a little girl that her mother was once solid flesh and bone, and now she was not. The earlier explanation had been a desperate attempt to make sense of something that could never be fathomed. But it had backfired, ended up with them both here freezing in the pouring rain and Grace’s question still unanswered. What was the point in lying anymore?

  ‘No, she’s not.’ A chill jolted through Tess’s limbs. She flipped up the collar of her shirt to cover her neck, not that it would make much difference. ‘What I meant was she’d be there in your memories, and in your heart.’

  ‘She’s never coming back.’

  ‘No.’

  Sometime soon they would both be here again, fulfilling Skye’s request about her final resting place, but for now there was nothing more to say. Grace sensed it and scrambled to her feet. The coat reached down past her knees. She slid her arms into it and folded them across her middle. Her new shoes were covered in mud and her tights had a long ladder running all the way down to her ankle. Tess pulled the sodden hat from her own head and planted it on Grace’s, more as a gesture than a practicality. She placed a tentative arm around the girl’s shoulder and they trudged along together, heads bowed, all the way back to the cabin.

  ‘I really think you should come home.’ Her mother punctuated her advice, repeated now for at least the tenth time, with the slamming of her car boot.

  Yesterday’s rain was gone and the sky was blue and cloudless. A snarky reply rested on the tip of Tess’s tongue, but she bit it back and dug her hands deeper into the pockets of her hoodie. Her mother had been harping on the same topic ever since Grace had gone to bed last night. ‘I’ll see how it goes. Like I said,’ she paused as Beth climbed into the car and wound down the window, ‘she needs some time.’

  ‘You do have a job in Sydney.’ The sage was clearly getting in everything she needed to say before she left. She’d been like Mother Teresa yesterday when the pair of them had come back dripping wet. She’d bundled them both into hot showers and towels, then made a batch of chicken soup to ward off any lurking chills. Today, she was more like her old self. ‘And a husband, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Josh is fine with me being here.’ Tess stared down at the pattern she was making in the dirt with the toe of her boot. Circle upon circle. Round and round.

  Her mother gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘That might be what he told you, but it’s not what he told me.’ She took off her sunglasses and waved them around in the air to make her point. ‘You need to talk to him, Tessa. You railroaded him into this situation. If you’re not careful he might get jack of it all and walk away.’

  ‘When did he tell you that?’

  ‘I spoke to him after the christening, before he left for overseas.’ She muttered the words without looking up. She’d gone over a line and she knew it, but in her usual fashion she kept charging ahead.

  ‘Did you now? And what else did he say?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he said he didn’t like the situation at all.’ Her mother sat up, her posture drill-sergeant straight, gaining courage as she spoke, as if Josh was sitting there in the back seat cheering her on instead of living the high life courtesy of some big shot’s expense account. ‘That he was letting it go until after the funeral, but when he gets back he’s going to have a serious conversation with you about it all.’

  ‘And you agreed with him?’

  Her mother dropped her chin, but it didn’t hide the flushing of her cheeks. At least she had the decency to look guilty. ‘Yes. And based on what I’ve seen since I’ve been here,
I’m even more convinced he’s right. Staying on out here is a big mistake.’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’ Tess folded her arms and glared. The last thing she needed was her mother and husband gossiping behind her back, conspiring together like a couple of narky schoolkids.

  ‘Is that all the thanks I get for coming all this way to support you?’ Beth was livid, her face a dangerous shade of purple, probably a mirror image of Tess’s own. This conversation needed to end.

  ‘Yes. And now it’s time for you to leave.’ She pushed the words out through gritted teeth.

  Her mother mumbled something under her breath, started the engine and drove off, spinning the tyres of her perfectly polished Mazda and sending mud flying. Good riddance. As much as it had been nice to have her around for the funeral, the sort of negativity she was currently spouting was not helpful, not for Tess and certainly not for Grace.

  Now it was just the two of them again, and strangely, that was okay. She turned to go back into the house. The purple door was closed to keep the warmth inside. Grace was still in bed, resting after all the turmoil of the funeral and her flight to the creek. She did need space, but was so much time alone a good thing? Despite the occasional glimmers of connection between the two of them, little had changed since that first day they’d met in the foster home. If anything, after yesterday, Grace had shut down even more, curled up in bed with her bear and book and refused to speak. This was all such a freaking mess.

  Tess reached for the doorhandle. It wasn’t just Grace she had to deal with now. There was still the issue of the newspaper clippings lurking in the wardrobe. A hot wave of nausea swept through her body, sending her head spinning. Her legs went limp, as if someone had stripped the bone from the muscle. She took a step back, gripping the verandah post and lowering herself to sit.

  The faint smell of smoke wafted from the chimney. Weeds cluttered the small garden fronting the house, where bees hummed around a couple of lavender bushes still managing to survive. It hadn’t been that long since Skye had lived here and yet the home she had so carefully created, this tiny oasis she had carved out of the bush for her daughter and her was already being reclaimed by nature. She’d done such an amazing job of raising Grace on her own, and now she’d entrusted Tess with the task. Grace deserved the best life possible, even if that meant throwing her own life into complete disarray. She’d told her mother Josh was fine with adopting Grace, with the two of them being out at Weerilla, but that was a straight-out lie. She’d told him taking Grace on was a trial, agreed they would reassess once the funeral was over, but she’d already made up her mind. And her instincts were telling her she needed to be here at Skye’s house, at least for now.

  So what did that mean for her marriage?

  Any heat the hoodie and trackies she was wearing provided ebbed away. A shiver ran from the surface of her skin deep down into her very core. Being a mother to Grace would have to come before everything else. Even Josh.

  A sudden rush of air made her pause in her tracks.

  A flurry of black-and-white wings.

  A magpie landed on the birdbath to the left of the path. Beneath the clear pool of water, the base of the bath glittered in the morning sunlight. A riot of glass, pebbles and gemstones Skye probably had created into a mosaic herself. And the bird was no doubt Buddy, the magpie Grace had been handfeeding for the last few days. He dipped his beak into the water then flew down onto the path only a short distance away, fixing her with his questioning eyes.

  What will you do?

  He tilted his head, hopped to the base of the bottom step and looked up.

  What. Will. You. Do?

  Tess stared back at him, the answer rising up from somewhere deep inside. This was no longer a choice. The choice had been made the day she’d walked through the doors of the FACS office without telling Josh, confirmed in that first visit she’d made to Grace at the foster home, cemented the minute she’d bundled the child into the car and headed west. And after yesterday there was no going back. This little girl needed her. In some mysterious way, they needed each other. Yes, for Tess there was a debt to pay, and her promise to Skye, but there was something more. Some indefinable feeling she couldn’t quite pin down. She heaved out a sigh and pulled herself up to her feet. The magpie inched back a few steps, dipped his head and took off into the crisp blue winter sky.

  Sixteen

  ‘Hey, Tess, how’s it going?’ Eleanor’s voice on the other end of the line gave her an instant lift. ‘Good timing, I just arrived.’

  Tess flicked her eyes to her watch: ten past eight. ‘Sorry, it’s probably a bit early to be calling.’

  ‘No problem. Normally, I don’t get into the office until later on a Monday, but I wanted to catch up on my emails. There’ll be a pile of them after being AWOL for ten days.’

  ‘How was the trip?’ Tess ran a finger along the top of the fence railing, wiping away the drops of last night’s dew.

  ‘Awesome. Whoever invented the concept of kids’ club has my eternal gratitude.’ There was a distinct smile in Eleanor’s voice. ‘But I’m sure you’re not calling to hear about my luxurious holiday. How is everything going with Grace?’

  Tess turned back towards the house. The door was shut, smoke curling from the chimney. No sound. No movement. Even so, she lowered her voice, just in case. ‘Not so good. We’re back in Weerilla. Things seemed to be slightly better until Skye’s funeral on Friday, which has set us back light years.’ The weekend had been very long and very quiet, with Grace returning to her silent self and Tess finding comfort between the pages of an old copy of Wuthering Heights she’d discovered on Skye’s bookshelf.

  ‘In what way?’ Eleanor would be frowning right about now, tapping a finger against her chin or doodling an intricate pattern on a piece of paper.

  ‘Every way.’ She tucked her free hand under her jumper and paced across the yard. So much for getting used to the cold. ‘Before the funeral I thought we were getting closer. She was talking more, seemed to be trusting me a little, but now she’s completely shut down again, and I know you said it takes time, but I’m really floundering here, El.’

  Although she wouldn’t admit it to her mother and Josh wasn’t around to tell, she felt like she was caught in a rip and being dragged far, far out to sea. If anyone could throw her a flotation device, it would be Eleanor.

  ‘You’ve certainly taken on a challenge, my friend.’

  Now there was an understatement.

  ‘I’m just thinking, does she like animals? She seemed to, based on the books she chose when she was here in the office.’

  ‘Yeah, she loves her cat, appears to have a pet magpie. Why?’

  ‘Well … there’s something slightly left field you could try. Stay with me while I do a bit of googling.’

  Left field didn’t sound too encouraging, but at this stage she was willing to try pretty much anything.

  ‘Here we are. Actually, there’s a facility not far from you. It treats people who have suffered trauma of some kind, including adults and children who are dealing with grief.’

  Tess peered up into the gum tree above her head where a white cockatoo was stripping bark from a branch. ‘Sounds good. Is it like counselling sessions or group therapy?’

  ‘A bit of both. It’s called equine-assisted learning.’

  ‘Equine.’ The word appeared in a bubble before her eyes, floating up to rest on the branch beside the pesky cocky. ‘As in horses?’

  ‘Yes, as in horses. As in the four-legged beast that threw you off when we went on that trail ride back in the day.’ Eleanor gave a hearty laugh. ‘I wish I could see your face right now.’

  Tess didn’t have to see Eleanor’s face to know what expression she was wearing. The serious mask had been ripped off and the person she was talking to now was the joker from their uni days. She shuffled from one foot to the other, her backside smarting with phantom pain at the mention of that one disastrous horse ride she’d somehow survived. Surel
y Eleanor wasn’t serious. This wasn’t exactly the life raft she’d been hoping for. ‘You are pulling my leg, I presume.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Honestly. I have the place right here on the screen in front of me—Affinity Horse Training and Equine-Assisted Learning Centre.’

  ‘And this is something you, Eleanor Carter, science major and professional sceptic, are actually recommending?’

  ‘Yes, I am. There’s a lot of data being compiled to suggest that using animals as a form of therapy assists in some cases.’ The psychologist was back. ‘Horses are really intuitive animals, apparently. They sense anxiety and fear, a wide range of emotions. This place was on the news recently for some of the work they’re doing with traumatised kids. Look, it’s not something I’d usually recommend, Tess, especially not as this particular type isn’t formally recognised as therapy. If you tell any of my colleagues I’m suggesting this I’ll flat out deny it but it’s worth a try, particularly since Grace already seems to have an affinity with anything four-legged and hairy. Pardon the pun.’

  If Eleanor was recommending this place it couldn’t be all bad, could it? It wasn’t like there were a lot of other options presenting themselves right now.

  ‘Do you have your computer up there with you?’

  ‘Yeah, but the internet connection is a bit dodgy here.’

  ‘Okay. I’ve just sent you through the details and some reference articles, so find some reliable wi-fi somewhere and have a read through, see what you think.’

  ‘Can’t hurt to have a look, I guess.’

  ‘Exactly. You never know, you might discover your inner horse whisperer.’ Another chuckle.

  ‘Very funny.’ Tess huffed. ‘Thanks, El.’

  ‘See ya. Let me know how it goes.’

  Equine-assisted learning. And Eleanor Carter, a clinical paediatric psychologist recommending it? Curiouser and curiouser. There was no way the girl she had studied with would have gone for it, but then she was older now and more experienced, so if she said it was worth a try, who was Tessa De Santis, someone who hadn’t even finished her own psych degree, to argue?