A Heart Stuck On Hope

by Jennie Jones

  Adele felt a blush rise, so she picked up the pile of pamphlets, turned and put them into the printer’s box that had arrived that morning. She ought not to have mentioned Tom. The conversation about Imelda’s grandson had ended minutes ago. She’d have to watch for this in future.

  ‘He’s like you in many ways,’ Imelda said. ‘Neither of you expect to get what you need, so you don’t go chasing it.’

  ‘I have everything I need.’ She flicked the switch on the kettle. ‘So you’re going to do up the houses?’

  ‘I decided to use the life insurance money I received when my husband died. It’s a considerable amount for the likes of me, certainly enough to get things underway. Haven’t touched it before now. Didn’t want it, actually, but as I’m not going to be on the receiving end of it anymore, I figured it’d be okay to use it.’

  Adele turned from the sink. ‘So who’s going to be on the receiving end?’

  ‘The town.’ Imelda still had her eyes on Adele and the keen knowing look hadn’t left them. ‘I’ve decided to give the four houses to the project committee.’

  Give them away? Adele was surprised, but supposed she shouldn’t be. Imelda had a mind of her own, and rarely spoke up until she was ready to.

  ‘I’ll still own them, but they can run them,’ Imelda said. ‘So long as they abide by my wishes.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘That the houses, once they’re done up—which I’ll cough up the money for—are used for the families of those people still in Dulili. I want to see people come back to town. I want to see the people I was brought up with spend time with their children and their grandchildren. Those who have left don’t have a lot of money to come back and visit.’

  ‘So the town will rent them out to anyone who visits Dulili?’

  ‘No. That’s my firm condition. They’re only to be used for families who return for a visit. Utility bills and the like will have to be covered, but that won’t be much. I don’t want strangers in those houses, I want families of the people I know. I want my old friends to know that if their children and grandchildren visit, they have somewhere to stay, free of charge, with enough space so that no-one is crowded out.’

  ‘That’s very generous, Imelda.’

  ‘It’s sense. I don’t want them, but neither do I want them to go to waste.’

  Adele found a pain inside her for Imelda. Her grandson wouldn’t come back. He would only make occasional visits.

  What Imelda had found for herself was a kind of freedom, and a reinvention of the person she once was, but she wouldn’t be able to share it with Tom.

  ‘When are you hoping to start on the renovations?’ she asked.

  ‘Might not be so straightforward. It’ll all depend on when the builder’s ready to find sense and when the builder’s ready to receive what’s waiting for him.’ She pushed the chair back from the table, and stood. ‘Don’t worry about coffee for me. Got to get home. I need to call Tom.’

  Imelda let herself out and Adele slumped against the sink, her backside against the bench. Was this her future? Waiting for a word about Tom. Waiting to hear his name mentioned. Not wanting to perk up at the sound of his name, but every nerve in her body spiking at the sound of it anyway.

  It wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t the life she needed.

  ***

  Adele woke to the strangeness of noise. She opened her eyes and blinked, sleep still partially enfolding her. The noises came from outside, from the front of the house. She had the sense that she’d woken or stirred in the night too.

  She pushed the blankets off her shoulders and propped herself up on an elbow. It had been such a busy week, she’d been dog-tired last night. She’d worked at the school, she’d produced the initial guide for the hardback book, and she’d chaired two meetings of the historic society. She’d also signed up to purchase her house. A hard week, both emotionally and physically.

  A metallic bang startled her. She got out of bed, picked up her dressing gown and slipped it on as she headed, barefoot, into the hallway.

  In the living room, she padded to the window and moved the curtain, opening it a crack.

  Her heart hammered and her eyes widened.

  Tom pulled a wooden garden bench from the back of a crammed Haul-it-Yourself trailer and placed it against the fence of his house next door. Then he went back and dragged an armchair out of the trailer. He lifted it—its weight and size apparently not bothering him—and carried it up his pathway and into his house.

  Adele checked the trailer again. It was full of furniture and piled boxes. It was still attached to his ute, which was also packed with his gear. Work tools and machinery sat in the tray and lots more crowded the back seat.

  She let the curtain fall and stepped back from the window, her thoughts haywire.

  ***

  ‘It’s Tom!’

  ‘Ali. Come and finish your breakfast.’

  Ali turned at the sink, letting the slats on the kitchen window blind drop from her hand. ‘But it’s Tom. He’s back.’

  ‘He must be back for a visit.’ She pointed to Ali’s plate of toast. ‘Come on.’

  ‘That’s what the big crashing noise just now was, Mum,’ Ali said as she moved back to the table. ‘He’s moving his tools and stuff from his ute. He’s got a big metal box.’

  Before she’d woken Ali, while she’d showered and got dressed, the noise of moving had continued. She’d peeked through the curtains again and had seen him use a long, flat trolley to shift sofas and chests of drawers. She didn’t know what this return meant, and didn’t have a clue how she’d find out. She certainly wasn’t going to pop out and ask him.

  The noise had stopped after that. He must have been inside, doing something with all the gear he’d moved into his house.

  But now he’d gone outside again and all the banging and crashing noises as he unloaded more of his possessions had punctured the air once more.

  ‘We’ll say hi when we go to school, won’t we?’ Ali asked.

  ‘If he’s out, yes.’

  ‘I have to tell him about my scooter.’

  Adele pushed a glass of milk towards her daughter and didn’t answer.

  ***

  All day Tom worked while Adele hid in her living room labouring over the historic society book.

  When he started pickaxing his cracked-concrete pathway, Adele moved herself and her laptop to her bedroom. The crashing and banging continued, but it was less obtrusive to her senses and to her worries. Still, concentration had taken enormous effort, a will she hadn’t thought she possessed. Throughout the morning, through lunchtime and into the afternoon, she struggled to ignore the questions pounding her head. Why had he returned? What was he doing? Worst of all—why hadn’t he knocked on her door to tell her why he’d come back?

  By the time she found the courage to walk through to the living room and peek through the closed curtains again, he’d lain new slabs for his pathway and had rid the small garden patch of weeds. The Haul-it-Yourself trailer was emptied of the furniture and the boxes, the back panel still on the ground. A wheelbarrow full of junk—old paint pots, cracked concrete, broken terracotta pots—sat next to a pile of other junk that he’d put next to the ute. It looked like he was taking the old contents of the house to the tip, replacing them with his own furnishings.

  When it came time to pick up Ali from school, she waited until she was sure Tom wasn’t in the street, then scurried out of the house and walked down Thompson Street as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

  Ali came out of the gate just before Adele reached the school. She looked for her mum, saw her, then ran to her.

  ‘Is he still here?’

  Adele nodded. ‘Looks like it.’

  They’d never walked home so fast. Ali nearly dragged Adele. ‘Watch for the traffic,’ Adele admonished, and Ali came into line. They waited for a few cars to pass and Adele made Ali do the look left and right drill.

  As they began the walk down
Thompson Street, Ali pulled her hand from Adele’s. ‘There he is!’ She dropped her school bag and ran. ‘Tom!’

  Adele’s heart lurched when he turned, put down the garden bench he’d been placing beneath his window, walked down the short path and opened his arms wide. ‘Kiddo.’

  He laughed and walked backwards out of her reach when she got to him. ‘No hugs,’ he told her. ‘I’m filthy.’ His laughter turned into a grin. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘I got a star for a poster. One about recycling in our environment. Lisa’s got a pink scooter, and Mum is going to make me tassels for my green scooter. Pink ones.’

  ‘Yuk—pink again.’

  ‘It’s my favourite colour now.’

  ‘Mine’s yellow,’ Tom said, a grin still stuck on his face.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Ali asked him as Adele walked past them to her own gate, Ali’s bag in her hand. She opened the gate and waited for Ali.

  ‘It’s dirty work, kid. You go on inside and grab three cookies and I’ll come see you soon. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Ali turned and skipped to Adele. ‘Tom’s home,’ she said to Adele.

  Adele smiled. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘See you later, Tom.’

  ‘Later, kid.’

  He looked at Adele but he didn’t speak and she couldn’t read anything in his eyes or from his expression. She looked away before he did and ushered Ali into the house.

  ***

  Many thoughts about her inadequacies had plagued Adele since Tom had left town. Was she too accepting? Or too broadminded? Was she boring? Did she accept things for what they were, without fighting for love and a relationship? Did she rely too heavily on hope, only to fall down the flight of stairs from expectation and land with a bump on the floor of reality? And when that had happened in her past, she’d done little more than pick herself up and get on with life as it was. Oh, God. Her shoulders sank. She was boring.

  She didn’t have big dreams and goals, like others. She didn’t work hard for anything other than what her child needed in life. A home. Security. Love. She didn’t fall to pieces and have hysterics in front of others when things went wrong. She didn’t give. She’d thought herself a fighter, throughout the years of being a nuisance to her father, and through the pain of understanding that Ali’s father didn’t care and didn’t want to know, but she had paid little attention to her own needs. Was that a bravery of sorts? Or was she wrong not to have cared about herself after Ali had been born?

  She was in love with Tom. She loved him from the depths of her soul. She sometimes thought that Tom was in love with her, but that he couldn’t see it, and that perhaps he never would. It was Tom’s right to do what he needed to do, but would a fighting woman let him go? And had a boring woman driven him away?

  The thump on the front door startled her fractured nerves. The plate she’d been washing slipped from her hand and splashed into the water in the sink.

  ‘That’s Tom!’ Ali said, scraping her chair back.

  ‘Finish your sandwich, Ali.’ How was she going to behave in front of him? How was she going to hide her love, and did she want to hide it?

  ‘But it’s Tom!’ Ali said plaintively.

  The strain of worrying was too much. Time to face him and discover what her reaction was going to be. ‘Yes,’ Adele said. ‘It must be Tom.’ She couldn’t refuse to let Ali see him. If he was moving back to Dulili for a while, the friendship between her daughter and the man Adele loved would take up where it had left off, and Adele would have to find a way to show the world that she wasn’t a boring woman. That she did have goals and dreams, and that they were for her child—wholeheartedly. And that she accepted that Tom didn’t feel the same way that Adele did about love, and that she was okay with that.

  By the time she’d followed Ali into the hall, Ali had the front door open and was in Tom’s arms.

  ‘Hey, kiddo. I missed you like crazy.’

  Ali looked like a precious butterfly caught in the loving arms of a homecoming hero.

  ‘I got you a present,’ he said as he ran a hand over Ali’s hair, his palm swamping the back of her head.

  She lifted her head from the side of his, bringing herself out of the huge hug she’d given him. ‘Is it a big one?’

  He grinned. ‘Hey, I’m no cheapskate, kid. It’s massive. And I’ve got something else too, if you want it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’ll have to come over to my place to find out.’

  Adele’s heart broke. She wouldn’t be able to get through this. Seeing them together, so happy to be in each other’s company.

  Then Tom looked up, over Ali’s shoulder, and gave Adele a soft smile. ‘You both have to come over,’ he said to Adele. ‘It’s a joint present. If you both want it.’

  ‘Now,’ Ali said, scampering down from Tom’s arms. ‘Come on, Mum.’

  Adele hesitated. Perhaps she could make an excuse and let only Ali go over.

  ‘Come on, Adele,’ Tom said softly, his gaze still on hers, his navy-blue eyes intent. ‘Come and find out what a total jerk has to offer you.’

  He smiled again, and the secret look of shared seductions returned to his eyes and his features as he looked at her. He was talking to her heart, and Adele saw something she recognised. Hope filled her, crushing her apprehensions. She saw love.

  He held out his free hand and Adele stepped to the door. She took his hand because she trusted him. Her big, caring neighbour wouldn’t crush her heart. He wouldn’t have the first clue how to hurt anyone, and that’s why she loved him.

  His fingers curled around hers, squeezing a little as though reassuring her.

  ‘Come on, Devereux women,’ he said. ‘Before my nerves break me in two.’

  Adele couldn’t hold onto the laugh that tumbled from her in nervous bursts. As if this larger-than-life man would be frightened of anything. And here she was, shaking with hope and holding his hand, ready for whatever was about to come her way. Not quite believing the love she’d seen in his eyes, but wanting to—so much.

  Ali dragged them both out of the gate and into Tom’s house.

  ‘Living room,’ he said to Ali as she pulled him through his front door.

  Ali dropped his hand and ran into the room, then stopped in her tracks.

  Adele followed, still caught in Tom’s hand, but she couldn’t miss seeing what he’d done to the house. All his furniture was out. The kitchen on her right was unpacked. Table and chairs in the middle of the space, kettle and coffee on the benchtop and mugs on an open shelf. The hallway had a rug running along the floorboards. A hall table had a vase on it.

  Her breath hitched as they reached the living room door. Tom let go of her hand and walked to where Ali stood, staring down at her present that sat on the floor. He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Is it big enough?’ he asked.

  Ali turned her face up to his, utter shock visible in her widened eyes and her opened mouth.

  Adele watched from behind, not sure whether to put her focus on the three-storey wooden dollhouse sitting on the floor, or on their backs. Standing together, a ten-cent-high kid and her giant, staring at each other, a present between them.

  ‘It’s got pipes,’ Ali said, her voice full of wonder.

  ‘Painted pipes,’ Tom said. ‘And that’s a high-pitched slope roof, kid. Thought the space beneath it would be useful.’ He bent, flicked a brass catch and opened the front panel.

  Ali gasped. ‘I’ve got an attic.’

  ‘Yeah. I figured your dolls would need somewhere to hide when all the boys start chasing them.’

  Ali giggled, but still sounded unsure. ‘Did you make it?’ she asked as she turned to face him.

  Tom gave her a high-pitched smile. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Did you paint it too?’

  ‘All by myself.’

  ‘You made it pink inside.’

  ‘Not all pink, though. You need a bit of contrast here and there.’

  ‘Is it
really for me?’

  ‘All yours, kid.’

  Ali’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.

  Tom turned and picked up a bouquet of yellow rose buds from an armchair. ‘Turns out I had a need for something yellow after all,’ he said as he pulled one stem from the cellophane-wrapped bunch.

  He looked at Adele and paused a moment, maybe to give her a chance to regroup herself. ‘I love you,’ he said quietly.

  The wonder behind Adele’s eyes warmed and trickled through her. The hope, held high in her chest, melted and drizzled through her entire body, right to her toes.

  He focused on Ali then, and held out the one stem in his hand. ‘I love you too, Ali. Very much.’

  Ali put the rose to her nose, inhaled, then slipped her hand into Tom’s, her smile shy suddenly. ‘Love you too, Tom.’

  ‘I’m back, Ali. I’m staying.’

  Ali’s smile widened.

  Tom turned to Adele and offered her the bouquet of yellow roses. She took it and held it to her chest.

  He gave her the secret look. It seemed to last forever as the reality of what had suddenly come true filtered through her.

  ‘Kiddo,’ he said to Ali. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got something important to do in the kitchen, have you?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like go unpack all the dollhouse furniture I got for you. Not sure if I got your colour schemes right, but there’s plenty of pink stuff and a bit of yellow. Oh, and I got a small plastic barbeque too. So your dolls can learn how to cook big juicy steaks.’

  ‘With yellow mustard,’ Ali said, her smile widening.

  Their happiness in each other consumed Adele’s chest, like a balloon blown up too high and ready to burst.

  ‘Can I accept the presents, Mummy?’ Ali asked, the pleading look so deep-set on her face that Adele almost laughed.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart. Of course you can.’ She paused a second, then spoke up, wanting to say the words out loud. ‘They were given to you with love.’

  Ali hugged Tom with an arm around his hips. He bent low and kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Okay, kid, go see to your furniture. I’ve got some household business to talk to your mum about.’