Echo Point

by Virginia Hale

  Ally scoffed and stood, moving to get the milk from the fridge. As the kettle whistled, Tammy barked loudly, her black snout concaving the fly screen of the laundry door. Bron shushed her, knowing there was no point.

  Barry laughed, pulling open the screen door. Bron watched from the corner of the kitchen as he calmed Tammy with a scratch behind her ears.

  She smiled, watching Tammy lap up the attention before she returned to making the tea.

  The potent feeling of being watched immediately drew her attention from the kettle. Ally leaned against the opposite counter, staring at Bron, her eyes intense and searching.

  Bron’s skin prickled. “What’s wrong?”

  Ally’s voice was low. “Nothing.” She continued to stare. “You’re just very attractive.”

  Thrown by the compliment, Bron looked away.

  “How much water you been getting in the tank?” Barry called out.

  It wasn’t that Ally was moving closer that unnerved her. It was the way that, as she placed the milk down in front of Bron, Ally looked out to see if Barry could see them from where he was standing—as though she knew something Bron did not.

  “Oh, the tank’s old. We’re on town water these days,” Bron explained, trying desperately to ignore Ally’s nearness, but she could feel the heat radiating from her body.

  And she smelled wonderful.

  Barry was still talking. Bron just caught the tail end as he said, “… My old man’s got a water tank down in South Australia. Bloody pain in the ass, those things.”

  In pursuit of three mugs, Bron’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the top cupboard. Ally covered Bron’s hand and pulled open the cupboard. Bron shifted closer to the counter, away from Ally, struggling not to let Ally press closer.

  As Ally grabbed the mugs, Bron dropped a teabag into each, barely listening as Barry muttered on about the mudbrick home his father had built. Ally’s breath warmed the shell of Bron’s ear when she called out a reply to their visitor.

  Bron’s hands trembled as she lifted the kettle and unskilfully poured boiling water into the mugs. She swore under her breath as the paper tab of a teabag slipped over the lip of one of the mugs and into the weak, steaming tea. As Bron reached across the sink for a teaspoon to scoop up the floating label, Ally pressed closer.

  “Don’t,” Bron murmured, her shoulders shifting.

  The instant Ally’s warm hand came to rest just above Bron’s hip, so gentle and timid, she jumped and faced her. It had been so long since her body had been so responsive to another woman’s touch.

  “Ally,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  Ally looked down at her with a muddled expression. “What?” she husked. The hurt in her voice was palpable.

  Why is she staring at me like I’ve led her on? Bron thought she’d been clear.

  “Come on,” Ally said, her eyes on Bron’s lips. “I know how you looked at me upstairs.”

  She blushed hotly, remembering Ally’s naked body. “It was an accident,” she whispered, peering at the back door.

  Ally licked her lips. “I know, but you still—”

  As the back door opened, Ally shifted, putting a great deal of space between herself and Bron. “Black or white, Baz?”

  “Just a splash of milk, thanks.”

  Ally placed Barry’s tea and an unopened carton of milk on the table in front of him. “There you go.” She plonked down into her chair and spread her legs widely beneath the table.

  Bron reached for the milk. “Here, I can open that,” she politely insisted.

  Ally reached across the table and swatted her hands away.

  “He may be male, but he’s not an invalid,” Ally playfully reprimanded her. “He can open a milk carton.”

  As she sat down, Bron stole a glance at Barry, shaking his head with a grin as he popped open the milk carton.

  Bron wondered if Ally realised just how lucky she was that her parole officer had the stomach to digest her sense of humour. It made Bron uneasy watching how far Ally pushed it with him. It made her uneasy watching how far Ally pushed it with everything.

  He pulled out a file and scribbled down a few notes about Ally’s week working with Daniel. As she explained her temporary role in the business, beneath the table her foot tapped against Bron’s, once, twice, and a third time. Bron glanced up, but Ally was focused on Barry’s approving nods as he jotted down key words for his report. She waited for Ally to tease her again, but it never came.

  “And your plans for the future?” he prompted.

  Ally smiled. “Let’s just get past Christmas, eh, Boss?”

  He grinned, shaking his pen at her. “Not good enough. I’ll give you until the New Year to find something more permanent and goal-oriented, but as long as Mr. Lee obtains his painting licence, I think working with the family is a good way to get you back out there.”

  When he was finished, the women walked him out to his car. Bron stood back on the veranda to wave while Ally followed him down the steps.

  “Has she been keeping curfew?” he called back to Bron.

  Ally looked up to the veranda. She shoved her hands into her pockets, and for the first time that morning, her eyes cast over with a glimmer of panic as she stared at Bron, waiting.

  Bron paused, allowing Ally to flounder in anxiety for a moment longer. It was a rare thing to feel in control of Ally. She liked it. “Well, I caught her up until two the other morning watching reruns of Law and Order. Does that count as breaking curfew?”

  Ally visibly relaxed and she felt…powerful.

  Barry waved his hand in dismissal. “As long as she’s not getting any ideas from it, I won’t send her back to Oberon any time soon.”

  Bron went back inside, and it wasn’t long before Barry was gone and Ally’s work boots were thudding up the back steps. The fly screen swung halfway open, and Ally remained in the doorway, her demeanour unusually pensive. “I’m walking into town,” she said shortly.

  At the kitchen table, Bron stopped typing one-handed. She placed the slice of toast pinched between the fingers of the other hand on her plate, and closed the lid of her laptop. “Al, I didn’t mean to push you away, but he was just outside…”

  Ally groaned dramatically. “For fuck’s sake, Bron! I just gave you a compliment, okay? You’re beautiful, that’s all. That’s it. Jesus Christ, we don’t have to have a fucking discussion about everything.”

  Offended, Bron sat back in her chair, and folded her arms. “Why are you suddenly so dirty with me? You put me in an uncomfortable position!”

  Ally offered a frustrated gasp.

  Bron pressed further. “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, Ally. I didn’t mean to walk in on you this morning, and what happened at the cemetery the other day was…” She faltered. “We both know it was just one of those things.”

  Ally’s expression tightened. She pointed at Bron, waving her finger. “You frustrate the hell out of me,” she said decisively.

  Bron tilted her head, her eyes widening. “I frustrate you? Why would you even do something like that when your parole officer is here?” she exclaimed. “To make me feel uncomfortable? To intimidate me?”

  Ally looked down, brows furrowed. She scoffed, as though Bron had missed something colossal.

  “What, Ally?” Bron demanded, exasperated. “What is it that I do that could possibly frustrate you so much?”

  Ally shook her head. “Forget it.”

  Bron shrugged. “Fine.”

  The back screen slammed behind Ally. “Fine!” she shouted back.

  Bron couldn’t concentrate after the argument. Every few moments she caught herself looking up from her work desk, peering out the window to the driveway, wondering where Ally had gone. Once this page is finished, you can drive over to the pools at Blackheath, she compromised with herself. She needed a break.

  As she detailed the cityscape on page seventeen with office windows and rooftop spires, she thought about Ally, about the obvious attraction bet
ween them. There wasn’t any point in denying it. It was there and it wasn’t going away. But Ally was like Jekyll and Hyde. She could go from virtuous to irritable in the blink of an eye. Her moods were dizzying.

  There was a common denominator that seemed to set Ally off each time—rejection. She certainly didn’t take rejection lightly. So why, if Bron had already rejected her once, had Ally made another advance that morning in the kitchen? Was it simply because they were both gay and Bron was…convenient? Did she think I was playing hard to get? Am I sending a vibe? She needed to make it clear to Ally that it wasn’t going to happen, however good she guessed it would be.

  Before she was even close to finishing page seventeen, Annie was back with Jackie just after lunchtime proudly wearing three orange Good Try ribbons pinned to her Lycra swimsuit.

  “I beat two boys from Year Three in backstroke!” Annie bragged as she removed her ribbons with great reverence. She held them to the fridge with the special glass magnets Bron had sent from her brief time in Chicago years before.

  “That’s just wonderful,” Bron exclaimed, pressing her lips tightly to Annie’s hairline as the little girl stood before the fridge, admiring her ribbons. The overpowering scents of chlorine and sunscreen still lingered in her hair and on her skin.

  Bron cut her sandwich and offered Annie the larger half. “You’re back very early!” she commented.

  Jackie looked at her with apology. “The rest of the afternoon were relays for the bigger kids. They said parents could sign the littles out, and she was just dying to show you her ribbons.”

  “That’s okay,” Bron said. “I was about to drive over anyway.”

  “Sorry we didn’t wake you before we left this morning,” Jackie added. “I went to the loo around four and saw your light still on. Wanted to let you have a little bit of a sleep in.” Jackie nodded down at Annie. “I know it’s hard with…work.”

  “I’m coping,” Bron lied, wondering if she’d ever learn how to balance the demands of a career and a child—alone. Libby had been a full-time high school teacher and she’d managed. Thousands of single parents did on a daily basis. But Bron had been thrown into the deep end without ever learning the basics. All she could do was hope that dog paddling would keep her head above water, even if she made it to the finish line in last place. She had no other choice. It was the hand she’d been dealt, and she was going to accept it. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

  But being granted sole custody of Annie hadn’t been anything like drawing the jail card in a board game. Annie was better than rolling a double six or pulling a Draw Four from the top of the Uno deck. As her niece described the terrifying tilt of the diving block she’d jumped from earlier that day, she scarfed down her entire lunch for the first time since the accident. Bron was delighted.

  “Can you come watch me while I practice in the pool?” Annie pleaded.

  She agreed, wondering how long it was going to take Annie to realize she couldn’t swim a great distance in their two by three kiddie pool. “Go and fill it up, but don’t get in until I come out, okay?”

  When Annie was out of earshot, Bron said, “She just ate half of a BLT in under three minutes.”

  “It’s Ally,” Jackie said in astonishment. “She’s made my little girl healthy again.”

  She allowed Jackie’s words to sink in. While she’d kept Annie alive and functioning after the accident, the promise of Ally’s return, and then her divine intervention, had been the thing that had put colour back into Annie cheeks. She had to admit Ally was good for Annie.

  “I’m knackered,” Jackie sighed. “We were in such a rush this morning I forgot my umbrella. If I’d have forgotten my sunhat too, I’m sure I’d have passed out from heatstroke.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have taken her. I know you don’t mix well with the heat.”

  “Nonsense.” Jackie waved her hand as much to cool herself down as to brush aside Bron’s apology. “You’ve got so much work on your plate, now that you’ve decided to stay until way after Christmas.”

  She rolled her eyes. She’d made no such promise. “How do you do that?”

  Jackie grinned. “Do what, darling?”

  “Try to guilt trip me into staying even longer while I’m in the middle of an apology.”

  “Would I do a thing like that?” Jackie said with a grin, but her eyes were hazy. She’d always been so easy to read, unlike their father. It would hurt Jackie deeply if she took Annie back to Boston for good, and Bron hated that.

  “Go watch your niece. I’m off for a Nanna nap.”

  Bron stood from the table and got some water. Outside she could see Annie standing patiently next to the kiddie pool, chucking her innovative pool toys into the water. In went the gardening can, an old Coke bottle, Safari Barbie and a tennis ball. The garden hose snaked wildly across the mat of the knee-deep pool since Annie always turned the hose pressure up far too high.

  “Annie,” she called out the window. “You can get in, I’m watching.”

  She looked down into her glass. The filter tap was releasing water at a rate of approximately four drops per minute. She thought of the water pressure in Boston, her perfect shower and the abundance of water. With one eye on Annie, she reached into the freezer for ice, filling her glass to the brim with the frozen blocks before she headed outside.

  Annie wrestled with the twisting, possessed garden hose while Tammy barked fanatically at the performance. Bron climbed down the steps of the back veranda and turned off the tap. Annie fist pumped as the hose gradually fell limp. “I claim victory,” she yelled at the lifeless hose and plonked back down, the water level rising to just below her shoulders.

  Bron set her glass in the small spot of shade on the edge of the veranda while Annie attempted to float, the sunscreen Jackie lathered her in earlier that day forming a halo of oil around her little body.

  “Where’s Ally?” Annie asked.

  “Ally went for a walk a few hours ago.”

  Annie sat up. “When will she be back?”

  As Bron sat down on the edge of the veranda, the blunt head of a nail in one of the veranda panels scorched the back of her thigh. She shifted in the sun. “I don’t know, Annie.”

  “I wanna show her my ribbons.”

  “And I’m sure she’ll love them when she sees them.”

  Annie contemplated this for a moment. “Did you ever win any medals?”

  “Yes. I’ve won a few for my drawings.”

  Annie stared at her, completely unimpressed. “No, I mean for real stuff, like swimming or running.”

  “Oh…” Bron chuckled. “Then no, not for real stuff. Not that I can recall.” She thought for a moment. “Your mum did, though.”

  At the mention of her mother, Annie immediately pinched her nose and pitched forward into the water, submerging herself in the twenty-five inches of water. Bron sighed. She shouldn’t have expected any different, but she couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take until she could mention Libby without Annie running from the room.

  A moment passed. Annie did not pop back up. Sudden panic flared in Bron. She leaped forward, the rough, splintery edge of the veranda scraping against the backs of her bare thighs. The glass of ice tipped off the edge of the veranda, and she heard it smash upon the dirt floor below. In a second, she fell to her knees, reached into the pool, and hoisted Annie up by her armpits with such crazed strength that the child stood in the water on both feet. Annie’s wide, shocked eyes bore down into Bron’s frightened ones.

  “Why did you do that?” Bron demanded, the edge of her voice tearing.

  Tammy moved closer, quietly observing Annie and Bron stare at each other, both breathless.

  Annie’s frightened eyes watered. “I…” She drew back a sob. “I was just trying to beat my record.”

  Bron swallowed, her heartbeat slowing. “No more of that, okay?” she rasped. “No more, Annie.”

  Annie released a deep breath. In her t
ight hold, Bron could feel her frame quivering. She diverted her gaze from Bron’s intense stare and looked down at Tammy. Two lone tears fell, but her face was blank, like she had no idea that she was crying. As though sensing the intensity of the moment, Tammy sat down next to Bron, her gaze darting curiously between the two. For the first time since she’d come home, Bron wasn’t sure how to read Annie. She smoothed a hand over Annie’s wet hair, ran her thumbs over her cheeks. She was so beautiful, so delicate. But she was haunted too.

  “Are you okay?” Bron whispered. She tilted her head lower to catch her eye. “I’m sorry I upset you by mentioning Mummy.”

  Annie closed her eyes tightly. Bron waited patiently, loosening her grip on Annie’s tiny hips. When Annie opened her eyes, she looked…better. “That’s okay,” she said softly.

  She relaxed. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

  “Yes.”

  Bron shook her gently, as she always did when she was trying to get a giggle out of the six-year-old. The corners of Annie’s mouth twitched. “Annie, someday thinking about Mummy will be better than okay.”

  Annie simply nodded and shifted from Bron’s hold. “I’m going to play Olympic games now,” she said and picked up Safari Barbie.

  Bron stood for a moment, looking down at Annie, her mind vacant. The little girl was deep in conversation with Tammy, informing their retriever of the rules of the fifty-meter freestyle. Annie had moved on, but Bron had not. Her head was swimming. She would tell Annie’s psychologist about the incident. She would describe it, but how could she ever manage to convey the utter terror of the moment?

  “Hey, Ally!”

  Bron’s gaze shot up. Annie was out of the pool in an instant, her disposition completely revived. She reached for her towel. “Boy, have I got something to show you!” she exclaimed, already halfway to the house. “I’ve got ribbons!”

  Ally leaned against the railing of the veranda, laughing as Annie raced inside. She stopped when her gaze fell to the dirt floor below. “Is that glass?” she said, her eyes focused on the small, glimmering puddle at the base of the veranda.