by Renée Dahlia
‘Yes. I hate that old-fashioned notion that a horse should stay in work when shinny. The owner agreed, sent him here for a spell and pre-training, liked what we did with Biographical and we’ve been lucky enough to keep him.’
‘But he hasn’t raced since he was an early two-year-old. That’s nearly eleven months away from the track?’
‘Because the stupid trainer pushed him too hard, instead of giving him time out in the paddock early in the piece. He’s good enough to have run in the Slipper.’
Rachel grinned, ‘You wouldn’t be training him if the trainer had done the right thing. And now you have a promising three-year-old about to enter his classic season with form on the board.’
Shannon smiled slowly, ‘He gets on well with Serena. It’s weird, because she doesn’t usually click with the colts, doesn’t push back enough when they want to rule the world. Biographical seems to respond to her though.’
A guilty weight pressed down on Rachel’s shoulders. She’d come out to the farm with only the horse in mind, and a million buzzing worries about Jacob, and hadn’t spared a single one of those thoughts for her twin.
‘Where is she?’
‘No idea. If she didn’t come down from the house to watch you, maybe she’s gone into town or something. I don’t think she was riding today. She might be.’ Shannon shrugged carelessly.
‘Thanks bro, so helpful.’
‘Anytime.’
Rachel nodded goodbye to Shannon, but he’d already disappeared into a box to check one of his horses. She paced through the racing stables towards the little family cemetery on the hill behind the house. The tiny fenced paddock sat alone on a rolling hill about a furlong’s walk on the other side of the homestead, and was filled with all the family graves, dating back to, well, she didn’t actually know. She’d never given it much thought, had only gone in there to visit Dad, something she didn’t do often enough. Would Merindah be buried there with everyone else? Jacob had been cynical about it, probably for good reason, but Rachel couldn’t help the build up of hope in her chest, each step towards the cemetery leaving the heavy guilt behind, as a lightness pulled her up the hill. Talking to Dad might give her some answers and finding Merindah in the family cemetery would be amazing.
Climbing the hill with long strides didn’t usually make her heart beat like this, loud thumps in her chest cavity, increasing in speed and volume as she approached the little family cemetery. John must have had the sheep in here recently, all the grass was cropped short, making the cemetery look neat and tidy, with all the gravestones standing up to attention. Rachel paused long enough to look around her. The view over the farm from here was amazing, probably one of the best spots on the farm, definitely the best spot near the house, and a slightly better view than the one from the house’s veranda. She marched right up to Dad’s grave, her fists swinging beside her.
‘Dad,’ she choked out his name, battling the ugly cry welling up, ‘I wish you’d been here. It’s been the most magic few weeks. Fuck, Dad, you’d be so proud.’ The tears overflowed, streaming down her face, ‘You always said I had the ability to win a Group One, and you were right. I did it.’ She swallowed, blinking hard, and let out a long shaky breath.
‘I fucking did it, Dad. Twice!’ She squeezed her eyes shut, dashing away the last few tears, her heart trembling in a combination of joy and hurt.
‘Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for pushing me when I was down. Hell, I wish you were here to raise a glass with.’ She breathed in the country air, spring grass, gum trees, the cool wind from the mountains, and a content settled understanding rolled over her. The farm would always be home, no matter how much she loved her city life. Being here, and talking to Dad, reminded her of how proud he’d be of her achievements.
‘I miss you, Dad. So bloody much. I wish I could ask about Serena, and about Jacob, and shit, about this mess in my head.’ Rachel stared out over the farm’s front paddocks. Dad’s grave truly did have the best view, angled directly at the front gate and the sign declaring Merindah Park to the world. The wind whispered, seeming to quietly say Dad’s favourite phrase, ‘Money lost, nothing lost. Confidence lost, everything lost’. Rachel’s head jerked up, chasing the wind, as a chill ran across her shoulder blades.
‘Dad?’ she murmured. Had she imagined that? She kicked the ground, Dad’s most used saying constantly rattled around her head, so it was probably just her own brain tricking her. She shook out her hands and wandered around the small cemetery hunting for Merindah’s grave.
‘Hey, Rachel, are you alright? I saw you standing up here for ages.’
‘Serena.’ Rachel’s voice cracked as she flinched at Serena’s sudden presence. ‘I’m fine, just wishing I … had more time to come here more often.’ The last part of her sentence galloped out in a rush of breath. Rachel knelt beside the old sandstone block and brushed her hand over the indents and ridges carved into the stone. Time had worn away most of the writing, the sandstone whittled away by the weather, leaving only indecipherable grooves. She pulled back the grass at the bottom and uncovered a phrase protected by the grass: ‘Beloved wife of John Bassett.’ The line above might be dates, but she couldn’t work them out. A rush of wonder filled her veins. Could it be?
Serena’s sharp tone interrupted Rachel’s discovery. ‘I’m sure you’ve had time. It’s been nearly a year since you visited Dad.’
‘How do you know?’ Rachel rocked back on her heels and glanced up at Serena, who stood with her arms crossed.
‘I live here, Rachel. I know how often you come home, and I remember things like that.’ Serena’s throwaway comment about not being on the farm often enough punched her in the gut. Did Serena not remember why she didn’t come back to Tranquil Waters?
‘Yes, it’s been a while. What of it?’
‘You don’t have to get all defensive.’ Serena didn’t seem to see the irony of her statement as she stood in the cemetery with her arms folded and a mulish look on her face. Rachel stared back at the driveway. Nothing. When would Jacob be here? In moments like this one, Rachel wondered if Serena understood what had happened that day when they’d both been sixteen. But maybe she didn’t—after all, she’d been having her own party with her own friends. Mama had taken them to the nearest big town to see a movie. The whole drama around having separate parties, for the first time ever, was seared on her memory. Why had she pushed for that option? Maybe if she’d gone along with Serena’s choice, instead of wanting to have her own party and be seen as her own person, not half a twin, her life would be different now. She stared out over the distance and tried to see if she could imagine a different life. A life without Static Alarm, or Darnation, or learning about Merindah. Imagine not having Jacob in her life. Shit. Her whole torso clenched at the idea of a life without him. Oh fuck, she’d fallen hard for him. She pressed her hands against her stomach.
‘Are you ok? You look like you are going to vomit.’ For the first time, Serena’s voice filled with her usual empathy, soft and caring. Rachel managed to shake her head and stood up, brushing her fingers over the rough sandstone of what she hoped was Merindah’s gravestone.
‘I’m fine. It’s hard being here, I miss Dad.’
‘So do I.’ Serena gathered her up in a hug, and Rachel let herself be held by her twin. She shut her eyes, rather than continue to scan the driveway for Jacob. Needing him to arrive, to tell him what she’d discovered, built in her stomach. She wanted to shed Serena’s hug and run far away. The same nagging desperate need for Jacob had so many ugly parallels to her past that she almost couldn’t bear being here. It suddenly reminded her of the gratitude she’d had when Lisa had arrived at the pub after Static Alarm’s win. Shit. Shit. This was all bad. She’d fallen for him, fallen far too hard, and she didn’t know if she could extract herself enough to be strong and independent. She had to make space between her and Jacob before it was too late, and she lost herself completely.
‘Are you sure you are okay? You’re tremblin
g,’ Serena said. Rachel tugged herself free from Serena’s hug.
‘Yeah, just a bit cold. That wind, you know.’ Rachel brushed off the concern. Reality was too hard to discuss now, not here where grief sat close by, complicating everything. She glanced at her phone, and once more at the driveway. Jacob was ten minutes late. What if he didn’t turn up? She blew out a series of short breaths, trying to stop her heart racing into panic. What if he’d been in a car accident on the way here? Oh fuck, she couldn’t bear to think of him hurt somewhere out there on a country road. She tried to slow her breathing and shoved her phone back into her jeans. What if she’d misread the whole thing and he didn’t want to spend time with a queer girl? What if he’d decided they had no future? What if … Her lungs stopped working, her breath so shallow she couldn’t even summon enough air to swear about it.
‘Come inside and have some tea. You are shaking with the cold.’ Serena gently held her hand and pulled her towards the house.
***
Rachel pressed her fingers against her temples as Jacob drove up the driveway to Allira’s house. He’d only been half an hour late, armed with apologies about The Palace and his dad talking too much and losing track of time. It didn’t matter. Her tension headache slowly ratcheted up through the long drive. She’d pretended to sleep in the back seat, letting The Palace’s chatter wash over her, as she tried her best to ignore the way her body hummed in Jacob’s presence. If she couldn’t rely on him to turn up when he said he would, without even a fucking text or anything, she couldn’t rely on the way her body reacted to his either. And now they arrived at her house, after dropping The Palace off, just the two of them. Should she continue letting Jacob into her bed? Her body wanted it, but the way her brain needed him, and would be grateful for any attention he paid to her, made her fight against the comfortable silence. She couldn’t do it. She’d couldn’t succumb to this desperate need. Combined with the sick feeling she’d had when he hadn’t arrived on time, she knew it was time to get away. She had to be alone and strong.
‘Are you getting sick?’ Jacob turned off the engine, resting his hands on her shoulders.
Rachel made the hardest decision of her life, ‘Yes. Do you mind if you don’t stay tonight?’ She heard his quick intake of breath, his hurt making her want to abandon her desire to be strong and let him comfort her.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It’s what I need.’ At least that was the truth. She needed to not need him, even though she suspected it was already too late to be making this decision. Her heart ached at the necessary choice, her blood turning to ice in her veins. Better to be cold and correct than to deal with him betraying her later. She didn’t think she’d survive that and had to get out first. She’d barely coped with him being thirty minutes late, she didn’t need to imagine how devastating it would be if he stopped being there at all.
‘Okay. Do you want me to come in and tuck you in?’ His cheeky grin broke her heart. She wanted to keep him forever, safe against her chest, where he’d always be there for her. She pushed away the fantasy. He’d already proven he wasn’t reliable, not in the way she needed.
‘Thanks.’ She squared her shoulders and lifted his hands off her body. ‘Look, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while. It’s become too intense. I have a plan and a life to live and I can’t be waiting around for you.’
‘What?’ His face dropped, all the cheekiness replaced by hurt and confusion.
‘I’m sorry.’ She choked on the words she had to get out before she pleaded with him to be there for her. No one could possibly be trusted to always turn up for her. Even Dad had pushed her away for her own good. Well, no more. She would do the pushing, even when waves of nausea flooded her body and her mouth filled with bile. She leaped out of the car, grabbing her shoulder bag and phone, before she could change her mind and ran inside, her chest heaving.
Chapter 17
Fucking hot and cold. The shock of Rachel breaking it off with him, right as their relationship promised to be something special, was like leaping into the air for a mark, missing the ball, and landing hard on his back on the ground. All the air disappeared from his lungs, leaving him winded, unable to breathe. Ever since they’d arrived at his parent’s farm today, she’d been distant, more contained, and terse than usual. He’d seen the difference between her and Mum, the way Mum drew everyone in and cared for them, while Rachel deliberately pushed everyone away, and he’d wondered if he’d made the right decision with Rachel.
She’d bolted when her brother came to pick her up after lunch, and he’d buried his unease in work. Helping Dad around the farm, fixing the bloody step and teaching The Palace how to use a hammer. Dad had laughed at The Palace, a typical city boy who had never touched tools, and The Palace entertained them all with stories about his impractical parents. The job had taken longer than it normally would have with The Palace learning as he went, but the pride on his friend’s face made the extra time worthwhile. Working had distracted him from thinking about Rachel. Together, they had freaky chemistry, a physical connection which blew him away every time he touched her. He’d been seduced by lust, not thinking with his brain when it came to her. The terse discussion when he’d arrived at Merindah Park to collect her for the drive back to Melbourne had confused him, and she’d pretended to sleep, all the way back to town. Breaking up now was sucky timing too. With his season finished, and his summer law course yet to start, he had nothing to fill his time, nothing except to wonder what had gone wrong. His lungs slowly started operating again and he gulped in some air. His leg muscles twitched, wanting to chase after her, while his hands gripped the steering wheel, tight, to stop himself. If she didn’t want him, she wouldn’t want him to beat on her door and demand she listen to him.
Jacob woke up alone the next day, not quite certain how he’d driven from Rachel’s place to his home. He’d fallen into bed in a haze of emotion—anger, uncertainty, frustration—and his stomach still churned on waking, as though he’d spent all night perched over the toilet vomiting. Rachel had gotten under his skin quickly, a searing connection between them, which he’d assumed would burn out slowly leaving only glowing embers behind. He hadn’t expected Rachel to throw buckets of water on their fire, then stamp it out before it had a chance to grow into something spectacular. Fire formed a natural part of the Australian landscape, burning fierce and intense to burst open the seed pods of the vegetation, and create new life from the ashes. He’d imagined his relationship with Rachel would settle down, like a bushfire, at first spectacular before settling into quiet steady growth, a place where they could both bloom. Obviously, the fantasy was wrong— Rachel was too bold and wild to settle into consistency. She’d always be fighting, starting new fires, chasing thrills. Somehow he had to resign himself to a memory of amazing sex, and nothing more. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched out his legs under the covers. His knee twinged more than yesterday—too much driving, probably. He didn’t want to blame the restless night, spent in a daze of twisted sheets and dream snippets of Rachel. His phone rang, and his heart skipped a beat hoping it was her, before he saw his sister’s name on the screen.
‘Allira, what’s up?’
‘I think you know.’ His sister’s terse voice, defending Rachel, when he’d been the one dumped made him want to hit something.
‘If I knew, I’d be able to fix it. Has she said anything to you?’
‘What? I don’t know what you mean?’ Allira’s voice changed from vicious to confused.
‘She broke up with me. I assume you were asking what the hell I’d done, and I have no fucking idea.’
‘She did? That would explain her current mood. I guessed you’d hurt her.’
‘Allira, I don’t understand what is going on, and I wish I knew.’ He rubbed his forehead.
‘Talk me through what happened yesterday.’ Allira’s calm command soothed, and he knew Rachel would never be able to soothe him like that. Rachel had done
the right thing, for both of them, it shouldn’t ache in his chest like this, like the burn when he’d done a mile on the rowing machine. He focused on Allira, getting out of bed to pace around his room.
‘I’m just a bloke, I have no clue about what I’ve done wrong. I mean I was a bit late getting to her farm to pick her up in the afternoon, but this is a massive overreaction.’
Allira gasped, ‘Oh, shit. How late?’
Jacob scrunched up his face and rubbed his jaw, ‘I don’t know, half an hour maybe. She didn’t say anything. What does it matter?’
‘I have to talk to her first, but it matters. And I think she needs to tell you a story, so you understand. She’s not as tough as she makes out.’
‘Are you sure we are talking about the same Rachel? I’ve never met anyone who had their life in better order than Rachel. She’s bold about herself, she knows what she wants—’ And he loved that she wanted him … scratch that, she used to want him. The whole hot and cold thing made his jaw clench. Oh …
‘—um, Allira?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you saying that the brave toughness is just an act?’ It would explain why she swayed between wanting him and pushing him away.
‘Some of it is her, but yes, something big happened when we were sixteen, and I think it’s hurt her much deeper than she wants to admit.’
‘What?’ He had to know. He could help her fix it—whatever it was. He sighed, he was in much deeper than he’d first thought if his response wasn’t a shrug and a whatever, but a desire to be her saviour. He sucked in a deep breath—did he really want to be someone’s hero?
‘It’s not my story to tell.’
‘That’s not helpful.’ He slumped back on the bed.
‘Sorry. It’s the truth. She’s a good friend to me, and I don’t want to betray her trust.’
Jacob leaped off the bed. ‘I’m coming over.’
‘She’s not here. She’s at work.’
‘I’m coming anyway.’