Always and Forever

by Lyn Denison

  A riot of red, white and yellow flowers grew on the footpath along the low fence, and Shann knew Liz would be responsible for them. It didn’t matter what the season Liz would have a garden blooming. Just like their mother had. The shrubs Shann could see in the front yard were tidily trimmed.

  The house itself had been painted rich cream for as long as Shann could remember, with the typical heritage green and red trim. Her father had refused to consider an alternative color scheme.

  Two years ago Liz and her husband and family had moved in with their father and stepmother, after her father had had his first knee replacement. Liz’s doctor husband had finally taken a job in the city after years of working in rural hospitals, joining the cancer research team at the Wesley Hospital only a suburb away. Liz was a relief nursing sister, and it had fitted in so well.

  The street, the houses were achingly familiar to Shann, and she’d grown up knowing every family living here. Although the houses were built relatively close to each other, the blocks themselves were deceptively large, the long narrow lots giving the houses large back yards, ideal for young families.

  Shann dragged her eyes from her house and made herself focus on the house next door. It was older than theirs, with wide verandas on the front and down one side. She knew there was a huge covered deck on the back, and there used to be a large hammock, big enough for two. She hastily pushed those memories back into the darkest corner of her mind. It wouldn’t do to think about that when she had her meeting with her father to face.

  The trees in the backyards of both houses had grown, too, and she could see the backdrop of the old mango trees, huge now, and the tall silky oak that grew on the fence line.

  She couldn’t help wondering if the Callahans still lived there. Surely Liz would have told her if they’d moved. Then again, maybe not.

  Suddenly the door to the Callahan’s house swung open, and Shann tensed, her knuckles white where she clutched the steering wheel. A tall slim figure jogged across the veranda and down the wide front steps—fairish hair, short and thick, shone to a burnished gold in the late afternoon sunlight.

  For one heart-stopping moment Shann thought it was Leigh and something inside her twisted, the sharp pain spreading with such easy familiarity. The rational part of her mind told her that the figure was taller, thinner, the jean-clad legs longer. But a little voice inside her told her all that could have changed in ten years. Yet, there was something almost familiar.

  A hazy picture began to form in Shann’s mind, but it retreated just as quickly, and she half believed she’d imagined it.

  The woman crossed the footpath, stepped over the closed door of the old MG and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine purred to life and the antique sports car drove off down the street, its British racing green paintwork gleaming like new.

  “Neat car,” Corey commented beside her, and Shann nodded.

  She put the four-wheel drive into gear, checked to make sure the road was clear and continued on, turning into the driveway so she could reverse and park at the curb in front of the house. “Well,” she turned to her son, “guess this is it.” She attempted a cheery grin. “Chin up. Level gaze. Deep breath.”

  Corey drew in an exaggeratedly noisy breath and Shann chuckled, smoothing the tuft of dark hair that persisted in standing on end above his forehead. “If you dare to spit on that, Mum, I swear I’m going to run away to a new family.”

  “Gee! How many new families do you want, Corey Delaney?” she laughed.

  He frowned. “You have a point. One’s more than enough.”

  “Exactly. And that cowlick is rather cute anyway.”

  “Mum!” Corey gave a long-suffering sigh. And then he looked past her, and a smile lit his face. He slid out of his seatbelt, opened the door and jumped out of the car. “Aunty Liz. Hi!” Then he was around the car and throwing himself into the welcoming arms of Shann’s older sister.

  “Corey, love.” Liz held him away from her and studied him with exaggerated care. “I don’t believe it. I think you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you.”

  “And now I have two foots,” Corey said, bouncing from one sneaker-clad foot to the other, and then Corey and his aunt dissolved into gales of laughter.

  Shann groaned.

  “Do you get it, Mum?” Corey smirked. “One foot. Two foot?”

  “I swear that so-called comic routine is no better today than it was the last time you two dredged it up.”

  This comment only brought more laughter, and Shann waited patiently until her son and her sister had pulled themselves together.

  Liz turned and hugged Shann. “Now, now, you old sourpuss. You know you think we’re funny.”

  “Oh. Funny. All right. But,” Shann held up her hand, “funny ha ha or funny peculiar? That’s the big question.”

  “Ha! Ha!” said Corey with mock seriousness. He looked at his aunt, and they both lost it again.

  “Talk about Abbot and Costello,” Shann muttered, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Ah, Mum, if you joined us we could be the Three Stooges.” Corey mimed a few moves from the old television shows.

  Shann groaned again, and Liz laughed. “You’re the one who introduced him to those old slapstick shows so don’t blame me.” She sobered. “It’s so good to see you both,” she said sincerely, one arm around her sister’s waist, the other holding her nephew against her.

  “And it’s good to see you too, Liz. How are you feeling?” Shann asked. Her sister was due to go into hospital next week. Five years ago she’d had benign fibroids removed from her uterus and now the fibrous tumors had grown back, and it was decided they needed to be removed again. This time she was to have a hysterectomy.

  “I’m fine. All prepared?” Liz glanced toward the house. “Dad’s waiting to see you.”

  Shann raised her dark eyebrow, wanting to question her sister, but not in front of Corey.

  At that moment a large black and brown dog came bounding around the corner of the house, pink tongue lolling. He slid to a halt and gave a deep woof.

  “It’s a dog!” Corey said excitedly. “Is he yours, Aunty Liz? Can I pat him?”

  Shann put her hand on her son’s shoulder when he would have approached the large animal.

  “Tiger, you’ve snuck through the fence again, haven’t you?” Liz reprimanded and the dog hung his head. “He belongs next door,” Liz told Corey. “The Callahans are dog sitting him, and he’s a big softy, so it’s quite safe to pat him,” she added for Shann’s benefit.

  Corey stepped over and tentatively ran a hand over the dog’s gleaming body and was rewarded with a lick of the pink tongue. “Hi, Tiger. I’m Corey. Look, Mum, I think he likes me.”

  “Is Dad, well, is he okay?” Shann asked her sister quietly as they watched Corey and the dog get acquainted.

  “Of course. He hates being incapacitated, of course, but apart from that, he’s really well.”

  “I mean, with us, Corey and me, turning up?”

  “He’s been looking forward to you coming.”

  “I’m sure,” Shann said dryly, trying not to be skeptical.

  “He has. Really.” Liz touched her arm. “Shann, give him a chance. He wants to mend fences with you. He’s wanted that for a long time.”

  “Are you sure that’s not just the wishful thinking of your soft heart?”

  “No. Truly.” Liz hurried to reassure her. “Dad just—well, you know he finds it difficult to express his feelings.”

  “He did a pretty good job of expressing them ten years ago,” Shann remarked, and Liz shook her head.

  “As he saw it, you’d given him just cause to be upset. The trouble with you and Dad is that you’re too much alike.”

  “Me? And Dad? No way,” Shann said emphatically.

  “In lots of ways you are.”

  Shann went to comment and Liz squeezed her arm. “Let’s not get into that, Shann. Just promise you’ll give him the opportunity to make amends. Okay? He wants to. I k
now he does,” Liz finished earnestly.

  Shann frowned.

  “If not for yourself, then for Corey.”

  Shann expelled a breath. “Low blow, Liz.”

  “I use what I have to.” Liz smiled crookedly. “But Corey can only benefit from having his family around him. He should get to know his grandfather. And he’s such a wonderful child, Shann, Dad should get to know him.”

  “He is a great kid,” Shann agreed and sighed. “I can’t disagree with you there. Don’t know how I managed it, do you? Do you suppose he was mixed up in the hospital, that some other poor woman has got my tearaway?”

  Liz smiled and shook her head. “Oh, no. He’s your son all right. He looks just like you. And I do know how you brought him up to be the person he is.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. And don’t you go saying anything negative about my baby sister either or you’ll have me to contend with.” She gave Shann a playful shove.

  “Mum, isn’t he the greatest dog?” Corey ran up, the dog beside him.

  The large dog flopped on the grass and gazed up adoringly at Corey.

  “I’ve always wanted a dog,” Corey said and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Do you think the people who own him will mind if he’s friends with me?”

  “I shouldn’t think so.” Liz ruffled Corey’s hair. “And it looks like Tiger has chosen a new friend already. But your grandfather’s waiting so now it’s time for him to go home.” Liz took the dog by the collar and led him over to the gate in the fence between the two houses. “Home, Tiger,” she said firmly and closed the gate after him. The dog gave a mournful whine, and Liz shook her head. “He gets like this when there’s no one home.”

  “Will he be okay?” Corey asked, loathe to leave his new friend.

  “He’ll be fine,” his aunt assured him. “If we look out in five minutes he’ll be asleep. Now, come on, let’s go inside.”

  They climbed the steps, and Shann paused, gazing at the familiar veranda, the leadlight windows of the main bedroom, her stepmother’s clay wind chimes. Shann reached up, gently moved them, and they tinkled softly.

  “Liz?” A deep voice called from inside the house.

  “Yes, Dad. It’s me.” She glanced encouragingly at her sister. “Shann and Corey have arrived.”

  Taking Corey’s hand Shann followed her sister into the foyer, down the hallway and into the living room.

  The man in the room had obviously struggled out of his chair and was leaning on crutches.

  Shann gazed at her father. This couldn’t be him. Her father was taller surely, and thickset, with thick dark hair. The man who faced her was much thinner and his hair was completely gray. Then her blue eyes met his, and she knew it was him. Steady, clear blue eyes, eyes just like her own, held her gaze.

  She became aware of Corey’s hand in hers, and she drew herself together. She gave her son’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “Well, Dad. You look pretty good. Nice to see you.”

  For long moments no one spoke, and only the sound of the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner echoed around the room.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Shannon,” Jim Delaney said at last, and Shann expelled the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “Thanks for coming to help out,” he added softly.

  “That’s okay. I—you seem to be doing pretty well.” Shann indicated his hip, and he nodded.

  “Can’t complain. At least I knew what to expect this time after having my knee done a couple of years ago.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “It takes time. To heal and so forth.” His eyes flicked to Corey and back to Shann.

  She drew Corey forward, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. “Dad, this is my son, Corey,” she said, her stomach clenching as she waited for her father’s reaction to the grandchild he hadn’t wanted ten years ago.

  Jim Delaney turned his attention to Corey, and Shann felt a small tremor pass through Corey’s body.

  Then her son was bravely stepping forward. He held out his hand to his grandfather. “Nice to meet you, sir. Um, I mean, Grandfather. I’m Corey. Corey James Delaney. The ‘James’ is after you and the ‘Corey’, well, that’s just mine.”

  Shann’s heart swelled with pride as Jim Delaney continued to look at his grandson. And then he slowly reached out and shook Corey’s outstretched hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Corey,” he said, and Shann heard the roughness of emotion in his voice.

  “I’m nearly ten,” Corey told him and his grandfather nodded.

  “I know. You’ll be ten in a couple of weeks. On the eighteenth, isn’t it?”

  Corey smiled. “That’s right, Grandfather. My birthday’s on the day after yours.”

  Jim Delaney nodded. “Grandfather’s quite a mouthful. Gerard and Amy, they call me Pop. I think you might as well call me Pop, too.”

  Corey’s grin broadened. “That would be excellent.” He turned to his mother. “Wouldn’t it, Mum?”

  Shann swallowed a lump in her throat. “Sounds like a great idea.”

  “Well.” Liz rubbed her hands together. “I think this calls for a cuppa. Dad? Shann? Tea?”

  “Yes. Thanks. Can I help?” Shann asked.

  “No. I have it all ready. But maybe Corey could help me carry in the biscuits.”

  “Okay. Did you make them Aunty Liz?” Corey asked as he followed her. “Are they chocolate chip cookies like you brought us last time you visited us?”

  Shann stood in the living room, part of her registering that the lounge suite was new, but the carpet square on the polished wooden floor was the same. She’d sat on the rug and played games on rainy days and on cold winter nights with the warmth from the blazing fire in the old brick fireplace. Snap. Monopoly. Paper dolls. They’d set up Patrick’s electric train set. Her mother had read her stories in this room. And in this room she’d had that final devastating argument with her father. So many memories.

  And now she was alone with him, ten years on, with all those memories swirling around inside her head.

  She ran her damp palms down the sides of her jeans and nervously brushed back a strand of her long dark hair. Swallowing, she faced him. “Thanks, Dad,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  Her whole sensory system was alert to his tone, but she could find nothing confrontational in his voice. Old habits died hard, she reflected wryly. It seemed she was looking for criticisms that weren’t there. “Thanks for being, well, nice to Corey.”

  She watched as her father slowly and painfully sat himself back in his chair. Stepping forward, she moved his crutches to the side of his chair, within reach if he needed them. Yes, her father was definitely thinner. And older.

  “You thought I wouldn’t be nice to the boy?” he asked thickly.

  She shrugged her shoulders realizing she’d upset him by suggesting it. “Yes. No. I didn’t know how you’d feel. Seeing us . . . seeing me again. I thought you might be, well . . . you were angry with me.”

  He remained silent for long moments, and Shann saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “Yes, I was angry with you. We all seemed to be angry back then. But I wouldn’t take that out on the boy. I’m sorry you thought I would.”

  Their eyes locked again, and Shann nodded slightly and sat on the lounge chair opposite her father. “I hoped you wouldn’t because Corey’s the innocent party in all this. And because he’s, well, I’m very proud of Corey.”

  “I can see that. And I can see why.” He paused. “He looks just like you did at that age.”

  Shann gave her father a crooked smile. “But he’s heaps smarter than I was.”

  A faint grin moved over her father’s face. “You were pretty smart yourself, make no mistake about that.”

  “I guess I just made some not-so-smart choices.”

  Jim Delaney nodded. “You weren’t alone there. We’re all guilty of making those sorts of choices in our lives. But it’s how you handle yourself afterwa
rd, what you make of your life in the face of adversity, that’s what counts. I haven’t always handled myself well,” he added, and Shann could see it was difficult for him to admit it. She could see her father was flipping through his own memories just as she was.

  “I still don’t think I fully understand what went on with you ten years ago, Shann,” he continued. “But I . . . since then, well, I’m proud of you.”

  Shann stood up, crossed to her father, leaned down to hug him, and he held her tightly for a long moment. When she returned to her seat they regarded each other a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry I upset you, Dad,” she said carefully.

  “And I’m sorry I wasn’t more—” He gave a negating shake of his head. “I know we both said things we shouldn’t have, but I’d like us to try to put it all behind us.” He looked across at his daughter.

  Shann nodded. “There is one thing though, Dad. I want you to know I could never be sorry I had Corey.”

  What her father would have said she would never know because Liz returned at that moment, Corey following behind her, frowning as he concentrated on carrying a plate of Liz’s homemade cookies.

  By dinnertime they’d settled in. Shann was in her old room at the back of the house, and they’d put a single bed in her father’s small study so Corey could have his own space.

  Liz had collected Amy from school and as their father liked an early dinner, they all sat down around the dining room table just after five o’clock. Liz’s son Gerard was away on a school orienteering trip until the weekend, and her husband Rhys was still on duty at the hospital.

  Memories flooded back as Shann sat eating the meal Liz had prepared. Her father always sat at the head of the table, her stepmother Ruth at the other end, with Liz and Shann on one side and her brother Pat and Billy, Ruth’s son, on the other. Just one big happy family, Shann thought wryly.

  As they ate it was left to Liz and Corey, and occasionally Amy to carry the conversation. Not that her father had ever been much for chatting over a meal. And yet, in the dim recesses of her mind Shann had a feeling her father used to laugh as they all sat in here. When their mother was alive. She couldn’t swear that that was an actual memory or simply something she wished had happened. She’d have to ask Liz. Maybe she would remember.