Cross My Heart

by Pamela Cook

  Jules simply shrugged and turned around to attend to something on the stove. Something that smelled of onions and family and comfort. A second barrage of squealing. This had to be seen to be believed.

  Tess walked to the doorway. Grace and Toby were sitting side by side, their legs flung across a plush blue ottoman nestled between the couch and the television. Whatever they were watching had the pair of them in stitches. Was that really the withdrawn little girl she lived with sitting there looking so happy?

  She ran a hand through her hair to push it back off her face. As much as she didn’t relish the idea of staying for dinner, dragging Grace away now would only make things worse at home.

  Suck it up, Tess. Play along.

  She dumped herself into the chair Jules had pulled out. ‘So, what did you want me to do?’

  A basket filled with potatoes appeared on the table beside a well-loved saucepan. ‘You cut.’ Jules didn’t even try to disguise the glee in her voice. She was actually gloating. ‘And I’ll cook.’

  ‘Right.’ Tess snatched up a potato and scraped the blade across the hard flesh, letting the dirty peelings fall into a pile on the table while Mitch sat to her left, quietly shelling the peas. A Tupperware container appeared and Jules gathered up the fallen skins. ‘Chooks’ll love that. Speaking of which, you should get some.’

  ‘Who? Me?’

  ‘Yes. You. Skye had a brood, but they had to be moved on after … well, you know.’

  That explained the empty pen in the backyard where the weeds were already turning into a jungle. ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘I’ve got a couple here. A few others around the place took one or two. I could probably steal them back.’

  Tess picked up another potato. ‘Not sure how long we’ll be staying.’

  ‘Are you heading back to Sydney?’ Mitch had finished his designated job and was reclining in the chair.

  ‘Maybe.’ She sighed. She had no idea how long they’d stay. Long enough to ‘heal’ Grace had been the plan, but thinking that would happen in a hurry had clearly been naive. ‘We’ll see what happens.’

  Mitch nodded slowly. ‘With Grace?’

  ‘Grace, my job, my … a few things.’ There was that not-so-small issue of her marriage, and the discoveries she’d made at the house, but there was no way she was giving voice to either. It was awkward enough after their last meeting.

  ‘How are things going with you two?’

  She chopped the last potato in half and half again, depositing the pieces into the waiting pot. If Mitch was trying to sneak in a little counselling session before dinner, he could think again. She downed the knife and looked across at him. Contrary to her expectations, there was a softness in his expression and nothing but concern on his face. Maybe he really was just trying to help. Maybe he was genuinely nice. It wouldn’t hurt to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘Things are pretty much the same.’

  ‘So she’s still not talking?’

  ‘Not talking, withdrawn, obsessed with her books.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the living room, her internal thermometer rising with her voice. ‘Do you know this is the first time I’ve heard her laugh properly since I met her?’

  Jules turned, wooden spoon in hand. Sauce dripped from the end of it onto the hotplate and sizzled. Tess dropped her hands into her lap. She couldn’t look at either of them right now.

  ‘Her mother recently died,’ Mitch said, very, very quietly. ‘There’s not much for her to laugh about.’

  The truth of his statement punctured the blustering hot-air balloon of her anger, bringing her straight down to earth. Of course he was right. Grace had lost everything. But how to reconcile that with the fact that she was sitting in there with Toby chuckling away at a cartoon like a normal kid, when at home, with her, she was completely aloof. She jerked out a short laugh. ‘Maybe I should get a TV.’

  ‘Or you could bring her back out to our place for some sessions.’ Mitch was looking at her intently, the deep-green forest of his eyes way too unnerving. ‘If you didn’t want to take part, that would be your choice. It would be good for the two of you if you could work through some things together, but at the end of the day if it’s Grace on her own that’s better than nothing. You’d be doing her a favour if you brought her back, helping her understand her feelings so she can deal with them and move forward.’

  Horse whisperer or not, he was starting to sound like Eleanor. This isn’t about you, is what he was really saying, it’s about doing what’s best for Grace. Wasn’t that the whole point of being out here in the first place? And if that meant taking her to a few horse-crazy ‘learning’ sessions, then that was what she would have to do. He’d given Tess an out, said it was okay for her not to join in, so she may as well take him at his word. Besides, getting away from the house and everything lurking in its locked-up spaces was more and more enticing.

  She met his gaze. ‘Okay. If you really think it will help I’ll bring her out for a trial session.’

  ‘Good. We’re free all day tomorrow, so come whenever it suits.’

  Tomorrow could be a little too soon, but she would deal with that later. Maybe now was a good time to change the subject. ‘So, you seem like you’re pretty close to Toby.’

  ‘He’s a top kid.’ His smile said everything he felt about his nephew, but it fell as he continued. ‘Unlike his father, who is a total prick.’

  ‘Really?’ She sat up and raised both eyebrows. He came across all gentlemanly, with his George Clooney hair and mild manner, but there was obviously a more feisty side to Mitch Farmer.

  ‘The bastard left Max high and dry when Toby was only a couple of weeks old. Couldn’t handle being,’ he hooked his fingers into air quotes, ‘“tied down”. Bloody coward.’

  ‘Were they married?’

  ‘Nope. They’d been together for a while, though. Max thought he was the one.’ From the short distance across the table, she could see his jaw tighten. ‘I had to bite my tongue and stop myself saying I told you so when he cleared out and went back to the rodeo circuit.’

  ‘Rodeo?’

  ‘Riding bulls and horses around a ring. Kicking the shit out of them with sharpened spurs until they’re covered in blood. Poking the cattle with electric prods to make them buck. Total redneck bullshit.’

  Wow. He really was not holding back. His face was all sharp lines, his eyes like brooding clouds. Rodeos were something she’d only ever seen in Wild West movies. ‘And he does that for a job?’

  ‘In the States now. Hopefully, some poor steer he jabs too hard will make mincemeat of him.’

  ‘Does he ever see Toby? Or help Max out financially?’

  Mitch gave a wry laugh. ‘That would require manning up and taking responsibility. Hard to do if you have no balls. She hasn’t heard from him since the day he walked out. Best thing that ever happened to Max and Toby as far as I’m concerned.’

  So Max was a single mother. ‘It must be hard for her, though, being on her own with him.’

  ‘Max was never on her own.’ Jules moved around the table, laying out cutlery and place settings. ‘This one here stepped up right away. More of a father than an uncle. And plenty of people around town to help. That’s one lucky boy in there.’

  ‘No, I’m the lucky one. He’s a great kid.’ Mitch slapped his hands on his knees and stood, scooping the remnants of pea shells into his cupped palm and dropping them in a container on the bench. Something in his suddenly coy manner suggested Jules may have touched a nerve.

  When the food was ready, Jules called the kids for dinner and they came barrelling into the room, Grace freezing as if she was playing a game of statues as soon as she laid eyes on Tess.

  ‘Hi, sweetie, sounded like you were having fun in there.’

  Grace nodded shyly as she took a seat beside Toby, thankfully without the angry pout she’d perfected during the last week. Jules sat at the head of the table, leaving two chairs side by side for Tess and Mitch. He w
as taller than her by a few centimetres, and while he wasn’t overweight there was a solidness about him that matched his sturdy character. If she had to pick a word to describe being around him, it would be comfortable. A surprise considering the way he’d stalked off at their last meeting. He was quite the enigma.

  Dinner was a hearty casserole with lashings of mash, minted fresh peas and honeyed carrots. Good old family fare served up with a side of light-hearted talk about television favourites and art-class antics. By the time their knives and forks were scraping across empty plates, everyone seemed pleasantly stuffed.

  ‘That was amazing, Jules, thank you so much.’ Tess placed her cutlery in the centre of her plate and leaned back in her seat, hands resting on her stomach.

  ‘My pleasure. Cooking up a storm is my favourite thing—after creating world-class works of art, of course.’ She stood and began gathering the plates, Mitch rising instantly to give her a hand.

  Works of art.

  A cold wave spiralled around Tess, engulfing her so thoroughly her skin turned to gooseflesh inside her clothes. Since she’d arrived, the chatter and company had completely blotted out the discovery of those paintings in Skye’s shed, but Jules’s joke brought each image rolling back one by one, like a twisted horror-movie preview. She lifted a hand to her mouth, unable to catch the low moan before it escaped.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Mitch stared at her, the same concern he’d shown for Grace now directed at her.

  His voice was enough to jolt her back to her senses. ‘Oh, yeah, I … um … I think I’ve just eaten too much.’ She collected the salt-and-pepper shakers, scanning the cupboards to work out where they belonged.

  Jules considered her carefully. ‘Middle shelf of the pantry, next to the sugar.’

  She gave a shaky nod, stalling for a few seconds longer than necessary as she found the empty spot in the walk-in pantry. She needed to get a grip. These people must think her completely certifiable. Seasonings shelved, she edged back out into the kitchen.

  ‘Can we watch one more episode?’ Grace bailed Jules up with that how-can-you-resist-me face, and Toby stood behind looking equally hopeful. The two of them fixed doleful eyes on Mitch and her in turn. As much as she wanted to leave, Grace was a hard one to deny, especially when she looked happier than Tess had ever seen her. And it was rude to eat and run. ‘Another half-hour and then it’s home to bed.’ She turned to Mitch. ‘Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Sure.’ He moulded his expression into one of serious concern. ‘But there’s one condition.’

  Faces blank, Grace and Toby waited for the deal-breaker.

  ‘I get to watch too.’

  ‘Yay!’ Toby cheered. He grabbed his uncle’s hand and pulled him towards the lounge room.

  Mitch turned, laughing. ‘Not that I’m trying to get out of doing the dishes or anything.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Jules threw a cloth at him as he disappeared after the kids. She picked up a tea towel and handed it to Tess. ‘And then there were two.’

  Suds filled the sink. A cloud of steam billowed into the kitchen as knives and forks clattered against the enamel basin. Television voices rang out from the living room, interspersed with comments and questions from Mitch, and Toby’s patient explanations about who was who, and what was what. Every so often Grace would chime in, always on Toby’s side. Since Mitch had joined them, the volume was noticeably louder, the trio of voices providing an easy soundtrack to the washing up.

  ‘You took your time putting those salt-and-pepper shakers away.’ Jules circled the brush clockwise and then back around the dish. She held the plate aloft in her pink-gloved hand, letting the suds drain away, before sliding it into the rack.

  Tess sucked in her cheeks, trying to moisten her bone-dry mouth. She picked up the plate and rubbed at it with the tea towel, making the china squeak. Jules repeated the action, not once looking sidewards. She was feigning disinterest, waiting for her victim to crack.

  ‘Not really.’ It was a lame response, but hopefully vague enough to stave off further questioning.

  ‘You know, sometimes it’s better to talk about things rather than bottle them up.’ Jules shoved a handful of cutlery into the drainer. ‘It can’t be easy for you, stuck out there with a child you barely know and no family around to help out. I’m happy to listen if there’s something bothering you.’

  ‘There’s nothing bothering me.’

  Jules frowned. She wasn’t fooled for a minute.

  The plate clanged as Tess placed it onto the stack. She didn’t have to explain herself to Jules. Looking after Grace when she’d been late and cooking them dinner did not give the woman the right to pry. She wiped the last of the dinnerware, pushing the tea towel into the glasses and twisting it so hard her wrist throbbed. Job done, she hung the towel over the back of a chair. ‘I’m pretty tired. We might get going.’

  ‘No problem.’ Jules wiped down the rivulets of water that had formed on the sink.

  There was something infuriating about her calmness-and-light attitude, her refusal to push too hard. Tess had had enough for one night. She picked up her bag from where she’d slung it over the back of one of the dining chairs and strode through to the lounge room. ‘Come on, Grace, time to go.’

  ‘But you said we could watch one more episode,’ Toby whined. ‘It’s not over yet.’

  ‘Well, it’s getting late. Let’s go, Grace.’ She could hear the abruptness in her tone, but she was beyond caring.

  Grace stood and did as she was told, the slump of her shoulders saying everything she was feeling. Toby simply stared at the screen in front of him.

  ‘We’ll see you both tomorrow, then.’ Mitch jumped to his feet and moved towards the doorway.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ What the hell was he talking about?

  ‘At the farm.’

  The light returned to Grace’s eyes as she looked up. Tess was cornered.

  ‘Yeah, see you then.’ She’d agree to anything right now if she could just get out of here and have some time alone. ‘Thanks for dinner, Jules.’

  ‘Any time.’

  All the way home in the car, Grace carried on about their imminent return visit to Affinity, rattling off the horses’ names and rabbiting on about Jed the sheep-dog so eagerly, Tess found herself wishing the girl would once again stop talking.

  Eighteen

  By the time they got to Affinity, Grace was practically jumping out of her skin with an infectious energy that even Tess could not ignore. She hadn’t told her why they were coming, just that Mitch had invited them back to see the horses. The simple joy radiating from the child was almost enough to make Tess forget her own trepidation. Almost. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast, afraid to add anything to the squalling sea inside her stomach. Since then the nausea had subsided, but the closer they got to the training centre the stronger the caustic taste at the back of her throat became.

  She had to keep reminding herself: this was about Grace.

  Max greeted them with a wide smile. ‘Good to see you again. The horses are all ready and waiting.’ She held out a hand and Grace took it, without a single second of hesitation.

  The few brief times Grace had taken Tess’s hand had been nothing short of momentous. Since then there’d been nothing. Despite the time they’d spent together, the distance between them seemed to be growing, or at least stagnating. Hopefully, things would turn around if this horse scenario actually worked. She stifled her sigh and followed along to the arena.

  The black-and-white horse with the spooky eyes was busily munching hay. A much taller black horse was picking at a pile in the middle, and a smaller chestnut stood at the far end, reaching its neck through the fence to snag some grass. Mitch emerged from the stable block and gave them a wave.

  ‘Hey there, Grace, good to see you.’ He briefly flicked his gaze to Tess. ‘Glad you decided to come back. Come on over.’ He led them to a space in the middle of the shed where four chairs were set out. What was going on here?

&
nbsp; ‘Would you like a drink, Grace? Juice, cordial, water?’ Max asked.

  Grace shook her head.

  ‘Tea or coffee, Tess?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Trying to keep anything down was probably not a good idea right now. The circular set-up of the chairs looked suspiciously like a group-counselling session. Shit. She should have stayed in the car. She folded her arms across her chest. Whatever happened next better not involve talking about their feelings.

  ‘Take a seat, ladies.’ Mitch sat himself down. ‘Make yourselves comfortable.’

  Grace sat, tucked her hands under her jean-clad thighs and crossed her ankles. She had a cheerful, expectant look on her face, the exact opposite of her usual demeanour and an extreme opposite of the expression Tess imagined herself to be wearing. Max sat beside her brother, leaving one chair vacant. Tess shifted from one foot to the other. She could make some excuse about a headache, tell them she’d wait in the car. Grace frowned, reached out a hand and shook the seat, the instruction clear. Damn. She was stuck. She fell into the chair, zeroing in on a horseshoe on the ground in the centre of the circle.

  Until Max picked it up and began to speak. ‘So, Grace, has Tess explained to you why you’re back?’

  Grace gave a slight shake of her head. Her hands were laced together in her lap now, but she still exuded the same excited air she’d had in the car, the electricity zipping through her veins almost audible.

  ‘Okay, I’ll explain.’ Max continued with the preamble. ‘What we do here is called equine-assisted learning. We help people who have something in their life they want to make better or who have feelings they don’t quite understand.’ She paused, presumably waiting for her words to register. They were registering with Tess: the f-word was already being tossed around in her head and they were only thirty seconds in. ‘Horses are very intuitive—that means they can pick up on how a person is feeling and their reaction, and the way they behave around that person can sometimes help the person understand things better. Does that make sense?’