by Abby Wilder
Judah stepped closer, and the cold breeze picked up and blew my hair over my face. I picked away the strands and stared at the gravestone, wrapping my arms even closer around my body.
His brother's gravestone was more elaborate than the others around it. The words, 'Beloved son and brother, taken too soon', were carved into the stone below the date.
"Have you always lived here?" His voice wavered and he cleared his throat again. "I haven't seen you around."
"I was born here but moved to the city when I was young. We moved back about five months ago."
"And how are you finding life in Puruwai?" He smiled, but his eyes remained marred with sorrow.
"I like it, actually. It's—"
"Lennon!" My mother's voice, carried by the breeze, drifted across the rows of gravestones.
"I've got to go," I said, but I hesitated before walking away. Something held me back and my eyes flicked to him again.
He grinned, and it transformed him. Dimples sunk into his cheeks and his dark eyes sparkled. "Lennon? Your name is Lennon, as in John Lennon?"
I shrugged. "The one and only. Let's just say Mum used to be a little obsessed."
He laughed, and it made me want to stay there and watch him laugh again. But Mum was waving for me to come back to the car.
"I've got to go."
"Might catch you around?" His voice was hopeful.
"Sure." I smiled, just a little.
I felt his eyes following me as I walked back to the car. I wanted to turn around, catch his gaze again, but I didn't. He was nothing like I expected him to be. Maybe his hard exterior was only at school.
"Ready to go?" Dad was waiting by the car, Mum and Melinda already inside. I watched Judah as he wandered backwards across the cemetery, eyes still fixed on me, his shoulders slumped, and hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans, and then clambered into the back seat. Mum's eyes were puffy and red.
"You okay?" I placed my hand on her knee.
She hiccupped a few times but nodded. "I'm fine." I could see the pain and hurt that had been locked deep inside trying to break free and rise to the surface like a freshly torn wound. Sometimes I wondered if it would be easier not to remember at all.
Once we were on our way, I dug into my bag and pulled out my cell. Three texts, all from Sienna, wondering how things were going with my dad, and updating me on her relationship/non-relationship with Ross. I filled her in on the latest news of Melinda's pregnancy then turned to Mum. "Is it all right if I go over to Sienna's tonight?"
"Actually," Dad cleared his throat, "I was hoping to take you out for dinner tonight, spend a bit of time with my girl."
I rolled my eyes and pulled a face behind his back. Mum smiled and shrugged her shoulders, not offering any help for me to weasel my way out.
Chapter Four
Lennon
I don't know why Mum agreed to us all going out for dinner that night, maybe she wanted to be near Dad, or maybe she liked putting herself through the torture of seeing her ex-husband dote over another woman and the promise of a new family, but I found myself at the table with the three of them.
The Fat Stag Tavern was a mix of country pub and Scottish hunting trophy room. The walls were covered with animal skins, mounted animal heads and tartan. Over in one corner, there was a pool table and a dartboard. A few locals leaned against the bar, cackling over an inside joke, and the barmaid was stocking the fridge with bottles of pre-mixed drinks. Faulkner, the barman, looked up and gave me a wink and a smile when we walked in. Melinda noticed and looked at me questioningly.
Dad chose a table with the best view of the TV. Rugby was on. Great. Dad would be glued to it for the rest of the night while Mum, Melinda and I struggled through awkward conversations, each too polite to do otherwise. But I didn't mind too much. My thoughts were on Judah. Only it wasn't about the way he looked. It was about the way he looked at me.
"So, Lennon," Melinda said as the waitress set down our drinks. "How's school going?"
I took a sip of my lemonade and raspberry and little pink bubbles floated to the surface and pricked my nose. It had been my favourite drink since the age of five when I loved everything pink, I just never really grew out of it. "Not bad, I guess."
"I hope you're getting good grades." Dad took his eyes off the TV screen for an instant to look at me.
Melinda scowled at him and I ignored the question.
"Have you met any cute guys yet?" Melinda sat forward and placed her elbows on the table, ready for me to spill the latest on my love life. Now it was Dad's turn to scowl, but he still turned, interested in my answer, for once.
"Of course not." I smiled innocently. "Too busy with school work to bother with boys." It was mostly true. I was invisible at school, hidden by Sienna's shadow, so it wasn't really a choice of me not bothering with people, it was more a case of people not bothering with me. Not that I cared. I enjoyed my own company.
Dad smiled, and Melinda winked as though we shared a secret.
The conversation was as awkward as everything else about the day. The chirpy waitress came over and took our orders. Dad ordered the oysters. Melinda wanted them too, but Dad wouldn't let her. Instead, she went for the crumbed, deep-fried camembert starter.
Dad shook his head. "No soft cheeses, babe, not good for the baby."
"Actually, Robert," Mum glared at him, "the cheeses are fine. All of them are pasteurised."
Dad raised his eyebrows at Mum's clear challenge of his orders. "Still better to be safe than sorry, right, babe?" He patted Melinda's hand.
Mum looked to Melinda, and I could feel the tension slice through the table. Melinda looked down, letting her hair cover her face before telling the waitress she wanted the cheese. Mum smiled triumphantly and Dad scowled.
"So, Melinda." Mum was confident in her newfound alliance with the younger woman. "Do you know if it's a boy or girl?"
Melinda smiled brilliantly, letting joy radiate out of her, and I wished she would tone it back, just a little. "A boy."
It was only for an instant, but Mum let her shield drop and I saw the pain well up again. I pressed my hand on her knee under the table. She didn't look at me. "How wonderful." Mum took a sip of her wine, keeping her eyes glued to the ring of liquid left behind.
"I thought we were going to keep that to ourselves?" Dad sounded like a whiny child.
"They're family," Melinda said firmly. "Besides, don't you think Lennon would want to know if she is going to have a little brother or sister?"
I snorted and sent a fine spray of pink lemonade over the table. This baby would be my brother or sister—half brother or sister. Strange as it was, I hadn't registered to that fact. It was Dad's baby, Melinda's baby, not my sibling.
"When are you due?" I didn't really care. I just wanted to keep the conversation going and take the attention away from the fact that I was wiping pink droplets from the table.
"November seventeenth."
"Not long then. You'll be getting excited," I replied, saying all the things I thought I were expected of me.
"And nervous!" Melinda laughed and her nose wrinkled delightfully. I found myself momentarily wishing I had her dainty nose instead of my straight and boring one, which snorted instead of wrinkling delightfully.
"Any names?" I asked.
"We've narrowed it down to one or two, but your father won't let me tell anyone." She pulled her lips into a pout before playfully grinning at Dad and reaching across to rub his knee.
"Oh, come on, Dad," I pleaded dryly. "Surely you can let us in on the choices."
Dad shook his head. "You will just have to wait like everyone else." He took a big gulp of beer, and since the rugby match was at half time, tilted his chair back to face the table. "Your mother had some rather strange names picked out for you. She wanted ones along the lines of what the Deacons used. She actually liked the name they chose for the boy, Phoenix." He shook his head slowly. "The stupidity of some parents. Children need strong, clear nam
es, not pathetic ones that belong in the garden. She wanted to call you Blossom or Petal, or some such rubbish before we settled on Lennon, which I must add was strange enough in itself, but, at least it's strong."
"It was Aster." Mum frowned and studied her wine glass.
"Oh, I love that!" Melinda crooned, and clasped her hands together. Dad gave her such a look of disgust I wanted to laugh. Mum caught it as well, and we shared a smile.
"I've always wanted to call a baby an exotic name like the celebrity babies, something like Kyd or Ocean," Melinda continued.
"Over my dead body," Dad muttered, then looked at Mum apologetically.
Thankfully, our meals came in record time. We had depleted our conversation topics. Mum had already asked Dad how the real estate business was going. Melinda had told a couple of funny stories from the beauty therapist business, well, at least she thought them funny. And Mum had talked about her latest art piece, much to Dad's annoyance. He didn't consider it a real job. A real job brings in money. A real job involves a workplace, a time you need to be somewhere, not simply shoving bits of rubbish on a board with some paint splattered on it.
"You know, I was thinking, Lennon—" Dad popped an oyster into his mouth while Melinda's eyes followed it all the way from his plate to his lips. He swallowed and took another gulp of beer. "You don't mind driving, do you, babe?" He turned to Melinda, who shook her head, lifted a hunk of deep-fried, gooey cheese goodness and dipped it into the plum sauce. Dad wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned to me. "You should come and spend some time with us before the baby arrives."
I sighed. I knew what would happen if I went to spend time with Dad, the same thing that had happened all my life. Dad would work, and I'd be left to fend for myself, or, myself and Melinda. Mum wasn't much better, but, at least she didn't have a boyfriend closer to my age than hers. And I had Grams. "It's kind of hard with school, and all that." I wasn't sure what 'all that' was, since school was the only thing I had on my calendar, but school in itself didn't seem like enough of an excuse.
"Well, I could drive up and get you on a Friday night, and drop you back off on a Sunday. What do you say?" He drained the last gulp of beer.
"Or I could drive myself?" I turned to Mum, hopeful. The thought of spending the weekend with Dad wasn't appealing, but getting to drive myself down to the city sounded fun. I was finally on my restricted license and allowed to drive alone.
"You would let her drive the car?" Dad raised his eyebrows at Mum and his glasses tilted lopsidedly.
"She's got her own now." Mum didn't look at him and loaded more chicken into her mouth so her words were mumbled. "I traded mine and got a couple of little bombs for us to run around in. Seemed more practical than keeping that gas-guzzling monster."
Dad's eyes widened. "You sold the Commodore?"
Mum nodded.
"And you got her a car without consulting me?"
"I'm sorry, did you want to buy her a car yourself?" Mum knew that would get to him. He was a tightwad, always had been. It wasn't that he didn't have money, it was that he preferred to spend it on himself.
"Well, no. I just assumed you would talk to me about things like this."
"Why?" Mum looked as though she was enjoying watching him squirm as she lifted another piece of chicken to her mouth.
"Well, just because." He picked up his glass but sat it back down again once he realised it was empty.
He looked older. His hair, once dark and thick, was greying at the temples and thinning on top. He had recently started wearing glasses that accented the pouches beneath his eyes, and his tummy showed signs of too many happy hours at the bar.
"So, you'll come?" he asked.
I played with the carrots left on my plate. I didn't like orange things, another absurdity left over from when I was five. "Well, it's just, I would love to drive my car down, but with petrol prices what they are at the moment—" I let the sentence hang.
"Bobby will give you some petrol money, won't you?" Melinda cut in. I had never heard anyone call Dad, Bobby, before, and I had to hold in my laughter. I didn't dare look at Mum.
Dad dug out his wallet and handed me sixty dollars. Melinda might be good for him, after all. "Enough?"
"Thanks, Dad, that's great." I folded the notes and stuffed them into my jeans. I was sure Dad thought I was playing him, but in reality, I really did need the cash to get down. I didn't have a part-time job, yet, but I was looking, sort of. I flicked through the situation vacant adverts in the local paper. I just hadn't done anything more than that.
"So, when will you come down?" Dad took a sip of his drink that the waitress sat down in front of him, and looked over the edge of his glasses.
"Early November? Maybe just for one night, though."
Dad took out his phone and punched at it with one finger. "First weekend?"
I nodded. There was no point in checking my calendar. I already knew I was free.
"I'll cancel my open homes for that weekend. Suzie can cover them for me." He looked at his phone for a moment longer. "You'll be down for the baby shower."
"Yay." I put zero enthusiasm into my reply.
"It will be such fun!" Melinda clapped her hands together excitedly, completely ignorant, or oblivious to my tone. "You can help me set up all the games and decorate. I've got lots of baby blue balloons and little diapers we can shape into a cake."
I groaned inwardly but attempted a smile for Melinda's sake.
"Don't you think you should use neutral coloured balloons?" Dad glared at her.
"I didn't realise that colours had a gender," I said.
Melinda shook her head. "Everyone pretty much knows, anyway." She grinned. "I told you I was bad at keeping secrets."
"Obviously." Dad cleared his throat and pushed back his plate, staring at his watch. Melinda picked up the dessert menu but Dad shook his head. "We better hit the road."
Mum pushed back her chair and stood.
"I'll get this, Shelley." Dad scraped his chair against the floor and stood, arching his back and patting his belly.
"No need. I can cover my own." Mum was firm.
Melinda stood beside Dad and wrapped her arms around his waist. "But I virtually forced you into coming tonight." Melinda smiled. "Please, let us get this one."
Mum flinched when Melinda said, 'us', but then she straightened her shoulders and looked at the younger woman. "I can look after myself, but thanks for the offer."
When we got home, I holed myself up on the couch with a blanket and a block of chocolate for company while Mum retreated to her room. A music video raced across the TV screen, one with broken mirrors, swirling smoke and longing looks, and I found myself thinking of the boy at the cemetery. He had such sad eyes. I would ask Sienna about him tomorrow and see if I could find out anything more. If anyone knew the truth behind the rumours, it was Sienna.
Chapter Five
Ruben - the previous year
We were named after brothers in the Bible. Ruben and Judah. I'm not sure why our parents chose those names. Two siblings who hated their younger brother so much they plotted to kill him was hardly the most inspiring of stories. But our story, the story of Ruben and Judah, was more like another biblical tale. In the realm of our small town, our story would come to rival that of Cain and Abel. One dead and the other left branded by the aftermath.
By the time we were fifteen, rugby was the only thing Judah and I had in common, other than being twins, that is. We were identical, but it only extended to our looks. Everyone assumed that we had a secret connection, that I had the ability to look into the mind of my brother and know what he was thinking because we looked alike. But his mind was just as much a mystery to me as it was to everyone else, our father included. In his eyes, he gave us the same opportunities. Judah just squandered his.
We returned home from the game covered in mud. Mum frowned when I walked into the kitchen, though I'm not sure why. It's not as though she did the laundry. We had a cleaning s
ervice for that. But still, she frowned and placed her hand on her hip, muttering under her breath as she sipped on a glass of wine. I couldn't wait to jump in the shower. Don't get me wrong, I loved rugby, I just didn't love being covered in mud. But as my foot touched the first step of the stairs, Mum called out, "Your father is home." She said it as though it was something to be excited about. It wasn't. Dad was often away on business. He owned a hotel chain, but I would hardly call drinking and playing golf, working, whether you referred to them as business meetings or not.
As if he had been waiting for Mum's announcement, Dad sauntered into the kitchen and clapped me on the back. He was dressed in his usual navy pinstripe suit which meant he hadn't finished for the day. If he had been, he and Mum would have been shuffling around in their matching satin dressing gowns and slippers, a sight which made me shudder.
"How was the game?" he asked, leaning over the table and grasping the newspaper. He dragged it towards him and smoothed the pages, his eyes scanning the headlines. That was the thing about Dad. He was there, he was present, but at the same time, he wasn't. Even though he acknowledged me, even though he asked about practice, he didn't really care. It was just a chance for him to relive his glory days and remind Judah and me that we would never live up to them.
I grabbed an apple from the bench and took a bite, causing my words to come out mumbled between pieces of fruit. "We won."
Dad looked up from the paper and smiled briefly. "Good to hear. Maybe you boys will take the title this year, become champions like your old man."
I didn't bother telling him that it was just a friendly game between our high school and the one from the next town over. There was no title involved. Dad wore the black jersey once, and only once. But by the way he spoke, he was one of the greatest rugby players to grace the earth.
His eyes slid over to where Judah leaned against the kitchen counter, downing a bottle of water. "How about you, Judah? Ready to become the next Mitchell to storm the rugby world, or are you going to leave that up to your brother, too?"