Cross My Heart

by Pamela Cook

  Eventually, when she’d reached the last one, Jules cleared her throat. ‘These are amazing. I’ve never seen anything like them.’

  Tess nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘What are you going to do with them?’

  She inhaled a long, deep breath. ‘No idea. I certainly won’t be hanging any of them over the mantelpiece. But I don’t think I can just dump them, either.’

  ‘Definitely not.’ Jules let the paintings fall back against the wall, her lips pursed as she arranged the blanket back over the pile. She glanced up. ‘These should be exhibited.’

  ‘Oh, Jules I don’t know.’ Would Skye want her pain thrown out there, for the world to see? She’d always been such a quiet, private person, would she really want to expose herself?

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Our girl was talented, one of the most talented artists I’ve come across in a long time, but she didn’t believe in herself. I have a list as long as my arm of people who wanted her work, but Grace was her priority. I always knew that she was only scratching the surface with her paintings. You’ve seen some of them, they’re stunning—the light, the way she captures a feeling though how you can’t quite put your finger on it?’

  Jules was right. There was an ethereal, other-worldly quality to Skye’s work that drew you in.

  ‘But these,’ Jules tapped a finger against the covered frames, ‘these are on a whole new level. This is raw, unfiltered emotion. They need to be seen.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Some people would pay big bucks for work like this.’

  ‘To hang on the wall?’ Why would anyone want to look at such harrowing images, have them hanging in a public space?

  Jules’s brows furrowed. ‘We know the story behind them, but others won’t. To the average buyer they’d be a curiosity, a conundrum. Why did the artist paint them? What do they mean?’

  ‘Surely any idiot can see they’re not happy snaps?’

  ‘Not everyone wants happy snaps. They want emotion, depth. And these have it in bucketloads.’

  ‘I don’t know, Jules.’ She had enough images prancing around in her head without any concrete visual reminders—displaying them so overtly was another thing again. Suddenly, the air in the tiny room was cloying, viscous, hard to draw into her lungs.

  Jules followed her outside, closing the door and bolting it shut.

  Stepping into the stark daylight made her giddy. Or perhaps it was seeing the paintings again. She steadied herself against the side of the shed.

  ‘You okay?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s up to you, of course. But these are too good to keep locked away. I’d be more than happy to organise an exhibition. You wouldn’t have to do a thing. And I have some clients in Sydney I know would be interested in buying them. You could put the money into a trust fund for Gracie. At least there’d be something good coming out of all this.’

  All of a sudden, Tess was bone-achingly tired. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Jules took her arm and they walked inside. A pre-cooked casserole was on the stovetop, and its rich aroma filled the house. Grace had fallen asleep, the book open on the bed by her side. It was almost the same position Tess had found her in during those first few days in Sydney, when they’d been such strangers, when Grace had been little more than an obligation. Things had changed so much. Her marriage had pretty much fallen apart, she hadn’t worked for weeks and her living space was certainly not prime real estate. She’d faced her worst fears, to some extent conquered them, and she felt lighter, more buoyant than she had since childhood. A couple of months ago she couldn’t have fathomed any of it being possible. Now, she couldn’t imagine her life without this fragile, funny little girl, curled up on the bed beside her cat. Whatever life had in store for them both, the two of them were going to be okay.

  Twenty-four

  It was good to be back amongst the horses. Whisky whinnied as soon as she saw Grace, ambled over to the fence and stuck her head through the rails, looking for a carrot and a scratch. Tess raised her hand to block the sunlight from her eyes. Samson, standing idly at the far end of the arena, lifted his head and watched them closely. Once more, the sight of him quite literally stole her breath. But now, unlike when they first met, she wasn’t afraid of his size and power.

  ‘Hi there, strangers.’ Max came striding towards them, a grin from ear to ear, throwing her arms around Tess and pulling her into a tight hug. A good thing her shoulder was now well on its way to being healed. ‘It’s so good to see you. How are you doing?’

  ‘Good, we’re good.’ Grapevines flourishing the way they do, there was no need to go into details. Max would know it all. Weerilla had even made it into the papers and the nightly news when word got out about Harrison’s visit—and subsequent arrest.

  Max eased away, but her hands bracketed Tess’s biceps. ‘I’m so glad you’re both okay. If you need anything, anything at all, make sure you let us know.’

  Both she and Mitch had phoned in the days following the attack, but Tess had needed space and time to process things. Both of them did. Her parents had stayed for a week, leaving only once her bruises faded and the sling was relegated to the medical cabinet. Now the worst was over and she and Grace needed to get back to normal. Finish walking the path they’d started and get on with their lives. ‘Where’s Mitch?’

  ‘He got called out to do some emergency shoeing.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He should be back soon.’ Max gave a coy smile. ‘But we can get started if you like.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Grace skipped ahead of them to the stable, settling herself in a chair, relishing the familiar routine. Tess sat beside her, resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand. Since the events of ‘that night’ as she now referred to it, the two of them had shared Skye’s bed, hung out together pretty much all day, every day, their mutual need to stay close unspoken yet palpable. Not that such co-dependence was healthy, for either of them. She shook away the random thoughts and listened to Max’s preamble and instructions.

  ‘Today’s tasks are all about trust. Trusting each other, trusting the horses, trusting yourselves. We’re going to start with an exercise where you lead each other around using only voice cues.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Grace scrunched up her face.

  Max blushed. ‘Sorry, still getting the hang of the lingo. It means you’ll be leading each other around by giving instructions, while the other person is blindfolded.’

  ‘Leading with a rope, like we do with the horses?’

  ‘Nuh-uh. Just your voice.’

  Grace frowned, clearly not understanding. Tess on the other hand understood only too well. She’d done this stuff in her senior year at high school and had hated it, actually opted out when the blindfold had been tightened, feigning a gastro attack and fleeing to the bathroom. But she could see the point of it now. Maybe it was worth another shot? Everything they’d done here so far had worked, so why not?

  ‘Who wants to be led first?’

  Grace jumped to her feet. ‘Me.’

  ‘Righty-o.’ Max placed a blindfold over Grace’s eyes, tying it in a firm bow at the back of her head. ‘Can you see anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Tess, you have ten minutes to lead Grace around using only your voice, no touching. I’ll be here and if it looks like you need help I’ll jump in.’

  Right. She could do this.

  She walked a few steps in front of Grace, directing her through the stable block, giving clear directions, but she ended up with her ‘follower’ about to walk smack bang into a wall.

  ‘Whoa, Gracie, stop there a minute.’ Max gave a rolling gesture with her hands.

  Clearer instructions were obviously needed. ‘Okay. Turn to your right, take one step, then stop.’

  Grace did as instructed.

  ‘Now, walk forward two paces, then turn to the le
ft and take three more steps.’

  One instruction, one step at a time, they manoeuvred their way around the yard, finishing at the fence where the horses were standing, watching with bemused expressions.

  ‘That’s it. Blindfold off,’ Max called.

  Grace whipped the mask from her face and giggled. ‘That was fun. Your turn, Tess.’

  As Max tightened the blindfold Tess’s heart skittered. She lifted a hand to her chest to calm it down. There was something suffocating about the forced darkness, that old reflex she couldn’t quite shake. She drew in a breath and listened closely, letting Grace lead her on a higgledy-piggledy path all over the stables and yard. It was pretty easy once she gave in and listened. Once she surrendered her need to be in control and trusted. It was astounding how much more acute her hearing became, attuned to the sounds around her, the horses chewing at the grass, a blowfly buzzing at her ear, the cracking of a stick under her heel. And then there were the smells: freshly harvested hay, the pungent scent of manure, the tread of footsteps and the faint aroma of something spicier wafting past, something that made her lips curve of their own accord.

  They ended up back where they’d started, Grace cleverly directing her into just the right spot before getting her to sit down. When she removed her blindfold the source of the enticing smell was seated right in front of her.

  Mitch gave them both a thumbs-up. ‘Good work, ladies. I only caught the end of that task, but it looks like you led beautifully, Grace.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Grace’s cheeks flushed pink as she sat perfectly upright.

  ‘And you did a great job listening and following the instructions, Tess.’ From anyone else it would sound annoyingly condescending, but Mitch had a way of giving praise that was completely genuine. It had been over two weeks since their last meeting and it occurred to her now that she’d actually missed seeing him. ‘So, for our last session with the horses it’s your choice of what you would like to do. There are obstacles out there, and lead ropes. You can do some liberty work or use halters, it’s up to you. Max and I will be on hand if you need any help, but this is really about you two working things out together.’

  Teamwork. That made total sense.

  ‘Can we ride?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not today. But you can definitely come back again and we can go on a trail ride. On a weekend, when Tobes isn’t at school.’ Mitch paused. He was asking Tess for permission. ‘We could all go out together.’

  ‘Yay. Can we, Tess?’

  ‘Yep.’ She directed her answer back to Mitch. ‘Sounds good.’

  When she entered the yard she approached Samson slowly, moving to the one side, and waiting for him to come forward. Unlike the last time, she was totally comfortable being in the same space as the horses. Even though the incident with Harrison had shaken her up, the closure his arrest had given her had brought with it an welcome clarity, a new confidence, as if she’d been living her whole adult life in a fog and it had now miraculously lifted.

  By the time the session was finished, she and Grace had mastered getting the horses over the poles, around a heap of obstacles and had jogged the full circumference of the arena with the two horses trotting calmly along behind them. Tess’s pulse was racing for an entirely different reason to an hour before, when she’d first been blindfolded. A sense of pure joy left her practically gliding across the grass. Working with the horses had been a humbling, blissful experience, for which she would always be grateful. She rested her forehead against Samson’s massive neck, inhaled his strong, earthy scent and patted him gently.

  ‘Thank you, my friend.’

  ‘Can I go to pick Toby up from school?’ Grace raced towards Tess across the lawn, almost falling over herself with excitement.

  ‘Fine by me.’ Max was waiting in the driveway, keys in hand.

  ‘Okay. I’ll hang around here until you get back.’ They had nowhere in particular to be, and right now she was so relaxed she could easily stretch out under a tree and doze.

  Grace ran off, then stopped, turned and blew a kiss.

  ‘Who is that child?’

  ‘Quite the turnaround.’ Mitch stood beside her, waving in the direction of the disappearing car.

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘So you’ve been stood up?’ There was a wry gleam in his eye.

  She laughed. ‘Looks that way.’

  ‘Fancy a beer while you wait? Light, naturally.’

  She shrugged. Not a bad alternative to a nap. ‘Why not?’

  He vanished into the barn and she made herself comfortable on the bench seat under the huge old jacaranda. Bright fringes of leaves dotted the branches. Spring was in full bloom and Sydney soon would be a riot of purple. The whole city alive with colour, even from the air. It was strange to think she wouldn’t be flying anywhere anytime soon. Josh would soon be leaving for his new life in Europe. She’d called him and given a condensed version of what had happened but declined his offer to visit. A small knot tugged in her stomach, the same way it did every time she thought of him, but it loosened almost instantly. She should miss him, miss her old life, yet bizarrely she didn’t. There was an apartment of designer furniture waiting to be sorted; for the time being, at least, she had no inclination to be anywhere except here.

  Mitch returned, handing over an ice-cold beer. ‘Cheers.’

  She clinked her bottle against his. ‘Cheers.’ They sat quietly as the afternoon light began to soften. Being here, side by side on the bench, their arms touching, felt completely natural; however, there was an uncharacteristic edginess about him today. He tapped the toe of one boot against the back of the other where his ankles crossed. The session with Samson and Grace had left Tess mellow; watching them had apparently not had the same effect on Mitch. If he had something to say she could give him the time he needed, there was no rush.

  Finally he leaned back and squinted up into the tree. ‘You seem to be doing okay, you and Grace, after …’ He scratched a spot on the back of his neck just below his hairline.

  People found it awkward to talk about what had happened and Mitch was no exception. Funnily enough, she didn’t have the same degree of discomfort about it all. If anything, the recent event with Harrison had been cathartic, and had helped her come to terms with what had happened years before. Her life with Grace was settling into a routine and they were getting to know each other on a whole new level. ‘Yeah, we are. Shoulder’s all healed, bruises are gone. Grace was pretty stunned for a few days, but she’s recovered really well. We both have.’

  He dropped his head. ‘It must have been frightening.’

  A swallow darted out from under the eaves of the barn, whirring its wings like a wind-up toy. Maybe it was the brain’s way of curing you after a traumatic event, but when she looked back on it now it was all kind of a blur. ‘You know, it all happened so fast, it was like some crazy action movie.’

  Mitch laughed.

  She joined in, tucked her ever-growing hair back behind her ears. ‘It was, honestly. I’m not saying I wasn’t scared.’ A flash of Harrison forcing open the door, his beady-eyed gaze burning into her like a laser made her shudder. ‘But once the adrenaline kicked in, it sort of … just happened.’

  Mitch studied the bottle in his hand as if it was some strange ancient artefact an archaeologist might have found on a dig. ‘Jules told me about what started it all off, when you and Skye were young.’ He turned, his eyes warm with concern. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all that.’

  ‘It was much worse for Skye. I wish I’d had the guts to tell someone at the time.’ She gulped down a mouthful of beer.

  ‘You were just kids. He was the one with the power.’

  It was true, Harrison was the predator. But if she’d spoken up at the time, made herself talk to Skye about it, tried to get her to tell someone … things might have been so different. For both of them. Would she ever be able to let go of the residual guilt?

  ‘Our father was abusive.’ Mitch spoke softly, a slight q
uiver in his voice. ‘Not to Max and me, but to Mum. I’ve never forgiven myself for not sticking up for her as I got older. He had this control over us all, we were too frightened to stand up to him. He never touched us kids physically, but he was hard on us. Too hard.’ He let out a long, weary sigh. ‘He died when I was fourteen. And the sad thing is I wasn’t even sorry.’ His eyes glistened. ‘If anything I was relieved. It was better to have no father than to have him.’

  ‘Is that why you’re so close to Toby?’

  His shoulders lifted. ‘Yeah. Children deserve more than a roof over their head and three meals a day on the table.’

  Was she doing the right thing? Trying to raise Grace on her own, when she actually had no idea how to be a parent? Was, in fact, still learning how to be an adult? Toby had both Max and Mitch looking out for him, had a real mother and an uncle who did a better job than most fathers. She rubbed at her index finger, feeling the absence of her wedding ring. ‘I don’t know what I’ll be like at this.’

  Mitch frowned. ‘At what?’

  ‘Motherhood.’

  A ripple of understanding passed across his face. ‘Oh, right.’ And then a gentle smile. ‘You’re already good at it. All Grace needs is someone to love her. And you so obviously do.’

  He was right, on both points.

  ‘So will you be packing up and heading back to Sydney now?’

  It was a question she’d pondered over and over in the days immediately following Harrison’s attack. Her family were in Sydney, her business, the apartment she’d shared with Josh that needed sorting out, but every time she’d asked herself that question, the answer was the same. ‘No. I’m going to be sticking around. For the time being anyway. Grace is happy here and I don’t want to uproot her just yet. I’ve offered my assistant a share in my consultancy and she jumped at it. I’m going to work remotely, building courses and doing some reports and analysis.’ If the dodgy internet service didn’t send her batty.