by Janet Gover
She hesitated before revealing the contents, which she now saw was something rectangular and flat. It wasn’t thick enough to be a book. As she folded the last of the wrap back, she realised what it was: a photo frame. It lay on the table in front of her, face down so she couldn’t see the image. Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she turned it over and looked at her father’s face.
She remembered the day this had been taken so clearly. It was the Tamworth Show, the year of her sixteenth birthday. She and Mitch had ridden two Willowbrook horses in the pair of hunters class. The two matched browns had taken each obstacle as if it was nothing, and resoundingly earned their blue first-place ribbons. Mitch’s parents had been there too and his mother had taken a photograph. This photograph. It showed the two teenagers still mounted, their faces glowing with the excitement of their win. Standing between the two horses, holding their heads, Sam Lawson was alight with pride. She remembered that look. He was proud of his horses. But he was even more proud of his daughter and his protégé.
Liz slid onto a chair and closed her eyes as the memories played like a film in the darkness. She heard the laughter, felt the heat of the sun and smelled the sweat on the horses’ necks. But most of all she saw the way they looked at her, Mitch and her father. She didn’t know who was the proudest—or who loved her the most. Nor did she know which of them she loved more.
She sat there not moving for a very long time. Now she knew who the gift was from.
At last she got to her feet. She carried the photo in its plain silver frame upstairs and placed it on the desk in the room that had once been her parents’ bedroom. It looked good on the desk, right next to the old framed photograph of her father and Apollo. The photos had not been taken that far apart but the state of the older print told her how much time had passed since then. She stared from one to the other, and came to a decision. But before anything else, she needed to shower and change out of her filthy work clothes.
On the way to the bathroom she had to pass the door to Kayla’s bedroom. She paused and went inside. Kayla had accidentally left behind a dress, nothing flash, just a simple cotton summer dress, but it had probably cost far more than Liz spent on clothes in a year. Liz had washed it carefully and put it away for Kayla to collect on her next visit.
Now she opened the wardrobe and looked at the dress. It really was very pretty. How long had it been since she had last worn a pretty dress? She reached into the wardrobe and took it out. She ran the fabric between her fingers. Like Kayla herself, it was soft and feminine and classy. All Liz’s clothes had been designed for work, but this existed for the sheer pleasure of looking good. Of making the person who was wearing it look and feel pretty.
No. This wasn’t right. She went to put the dress back, but paused.
What harm could come of this? After all, it was Christmas.
In the bathroom, she used Kayla’s rose-scented soap and tried the expensive beauty creams she’d left behind too. They smelled good, but it was going to take more than a dollop of cream to take away the lines that years of hardship and hard work had left on Liz’s face and hands.
When she put the dress on, she almost changed her mind. The woman looking out of the mirror didn’t look like her. Her lean, straight body seemed awkward in a dress that was designed for curves. Her short hair was clean and brushed, but looked almost masculine against the soft yellow and cream fabric.
This was silly … yet, when she looked again, there was something in the mirror that reminded her of the girl she had once been. Kayla had left make-up behind in the bathroom, but Liz thought that might be a step too far. She hadn’t worn make-up for fifteen years. She had always meant to ask her mother to show her how, but then it was too late.
She dismissed the make-up idea and instead picked up the light sandals in the bottom of Kayla’s wardrobe and hurried down the stairs. She paused briefly in the kitchen, then got into her car and started the engine before she had time for second—or third—thoughts.
CHAPTER
50
‘Goodbye, Uncle Mitch. Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too, sweetie.’ Mitch blew a kiss at the dark-haired girl on his computer screen. ‘Now put Grandma back on.’
‘Okay.’
His five-year-old niece disappeared, replaced by his mother. ‘It’s really a shame you couldn’t get here at least for a couple of days,’ she said wistfully.
‘You know what it’s like, Mum. Horses need looking after. I can’t leave them.’
‘Oh, I know. I haven’t been married to your father for all these years without knowing that the horses come first.’
Mitch could hear the affection in his mother’s voice. A second face appeared on the screen as his father sat on the sofa in front of their laptop.
‘Speaking of which, how is that colt turning out?’
Mitch started to answer, then stopped. He could hear the sound of a car approaching down his driveway.
‘Mum, Dad. I’ve got to go. There’s someone here.’
‘Who is it?’ his mother asked. ‘Is it that nice girl you’re seeing? Sue?’
‘Mum …’
‘I know. I want you to be happy, that’s all. Get married. Have babies. Like your sister.’
‘I know, Mum. I’d better say goodbye, now, and see who’s here.’
‘And I like being a grandmother, remember. I’m good at it too. There’s plenty of room for another grandchild or two.’
‘Pay no attention to your mother,’ his dad cut in. ‘Goodnight, son. Go see your visitor. And merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas to you both too.’ Mitch clicked end on the Skype session just as a sweep of light across the window told him his visitor had parked in front of his house.
It wasn’t Sue, of course, and he wondered for a moment why he hadn’t told his mother he’d ended that relationship. Maybe it was because he was having second thoughts. Maybe he should give up on Liz and call Sue again, because only a fool would keep waiting when there was no hope at all.
He heard light footsteps on his wooden porch. Those certainly weren’t riding boots. That meant it wasn’t Liz. Who else could it be? Could it be Sue after all? If he was getting a second chance with her, maybe he should take it.
He opened the door and for a moment he almost didn’t recognise the woman standing there.
It wasn’t Liz … but it was almost the Lizzie he had lost all those years ago. She was wearing a dress. And sandals. The faint breeze lifted her hair, which shone under the porch light. She was holding a bottle of wine in her hands.
‘Hello, Mitch.’ Her voice had a soft shyness he had never heard in it before.
‘Lizzie—Liz. I wasn’t expecting—’
‘I came to say thank you. For the photo. It’s … well, thank you. I don’t really do Christmas, but I brought you this.’ She held out the wine.
He took it. ‘Come in, Liz.’
‘No, really. I just …’
He stepped back, holding the door open. She hesitated. He knew how hard it must have been for her to cross the invisible barrier she had constructed between them. It was like a wall along the top of the creek bank. She stood silently for what seemed a very long time, not meeting his gaze. He thought she was going to leave, but finally, slowly, she stepped over the threshold.
Mitch stayed where he was until she’d walked into the centre of the room, then he gently shut the door. Liz was silent as she turned in a circle, studying the place he called home. He’d done a lot of work on the deconsecrated church since he’d bought it. The main body of the church was an open living space with a high roof and large windows. There was a fire at one end to warm it on freezing winter nights. The sofas facing the fireplace were generous and comfortable. At the other end of the building, he’d constructed a kitchen with a breakfast bar. In fact, the only internal walls surrounded the bathroom at the far end, behind the kitchen.
‘What’s that?’ Liz indicated the mezzanine floor, with sta
irs leading up to it from near the bathroom.
‘That’s my bedroom.’
To give her a minute’s breathing space, Mitch took the wine into the kitchen.
‘It was left behind by Kayla’s team after a wedding,’ Liz said, following him. ‘I hope it’s all right.’
‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ He reached into a drawer for a corkscrew.
‘No. I mean, I’m not staying. I have to get back.’
She was like a frightened young horse, poised to run at the first sign of danger. He wasn’t going to force her to do anything. ‘All right, if you have to. But first, just share a glass of wine with me. It is Christmas, after all.’
She didn’t say no. That was good enough for him. He poured the wine and carried both glasses to the lounge area. He put them on the low coffee table, and sat at one end of the sofa. As he expected, Liz chose the armchair opposite him. That was fine. She was here, and that was all that really mattered.
He raised the glass in a silent toast and took a sip of the crisp white wine. ‘Nice.’
Liz followed suit. ‘I am more of a beer girl myself, but it’s not bad.’
‘An unexpected bonus from the wedding business. How is it going?’
‘All right, I guess. We’ve only had one wedding so far, a bus load of Japanese visitors. Five or six couples all getting married at the same time.’
‘That’s different.’
‘According to Kayla, it may become a regular thing. They like the outback experience. And that’s fine by me. I made some money out of it and that came in handy.’
‘And what about the renovations on the homestead?’
‘They’re finished … or at least what Kayla calls the first stage is finished. She’s done a good job. The place looks great. Except the bride’s room is all a bit girly for my tastes, but she says that’s what it has to be like.’
Liz fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass. Mitch almost reached over to take it out of her hands before she spilled the contents, or broke the glass and hurt herself. But he didn’t. He was as aware as she was that their conversation had brought back memories that they had never discussed and maybe never would.
‘So, how is your family?’ Liz asked a little too quickly.
‘Good. They’re up in Queensland. Mum loves it there. Dad keeps talking about retiring, but of course he won’t.’
‘And Jen?’
‘She’s married now. Got one daughter and another on the way. He’s a teacher; a good guy. They’re really happy together and you know Mum loves being a grandmother.’
That was too much. He could see it on her face. She put the wine glass down and stood up.
‘I really have to go.’
He wanted her to stay. He wanted to listen to her talk about … anything at all really. He really wanted to hear the sound of her voice in this lonely place he called home. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to make up for all the lost time. But tonight was not the night.
He led the way to the door and opened it.
‘It was nice to see you,’ he said. He didn’t say, ‘Let’s do it again.’ Or ‘Come over any time.’ He stepped back.
She hesitated. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make his heart leap.
‘Merry Christmas.’ She stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his cheek. It was the briefest touch—like the caress of a butterfly’s wings—but it was the best gift he’d been given for a very long time.
CHAPTER
51
Lizzie wonders how long the grass will take to grow on the freshly turned soil. Out of habit, she looks up at the sky. There are a few clouds near the horizon, but nothing to indicate rain.
‘Lizzie, I am so sorry.’
She looks at the person speaking. It’s Mitch’s dad. He helped arrange for these graves to be dug in the old family graveyard on top of the hill overlooking Willowbrook. There are only a few people here for the burial. Lizzie’s glad of that. The huge crowd at the church had nearly overwhelmed her. They were people who had known and respected her parents, but Lizzie didn’t really know them. Their presence had been just a noisy blur on the edge of her grief. Mrs Saunders is here at the graveside too, but not Jen. She’s at the hospital with Kayla today. The doctor suggested Kayla shouldn’t come to the funeral. Lizzie agreed, but she’s glad her sister isn’t alone this afternoon. Not like her. Despite all these people, Lizzie has never felt so utterly alone in her entire life.
‘Kayla still hasn’t remembered anything of the accident?’ This time it’s Mitch’s mum speaking. She knows the answer. Everyone knows that Kayla can’t remember the accident at all. The question is simply an attempt to fill the terrible silence.
‘No.’
Kayla doesn’t remember, but Lizzie knows exactly what happened. Her parents were coming to stop the wedding when the car crashed. Her father must have been speeding on the icy road, determined that she and Mitch would not be married. That’s how they died and it’s all her fault.
‘It’s a shame she wasn’t here. It was a lovely service. And this is a beautiful place for your parents to rest.’
Deep inside Lizzie a voice is screaming. No! It wasn’t a beautiful service. It was horrible. The most horrible thing she has ever known. And the gravesite isn’t beautiful. It’s sad … terribly, terribly sad. This hilltop overlooking Willowbrook should be a place for her parents to have a picnic. Or to go for a walk. Or … just be alive.
Someone reaches for her hand, strong steady fingers closing around hers to stop them shaking. It’s Mitch. He senses what she’s thinking and feeling. He always has. But this time, there is no comfort he can give her. She pulls her hand away.
‘Lizzie …’
‘Thank you for coming,’ she says to the Saunders family.
They know she is asking them to leave, but they hesitate. She looks so young and so lost.
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Mrs Saunders’ face is sympathetic and concerned. ‘You’re very welcome to come to our house. There’s always room for you. You know that.’
‘No. Thank you. This is my home. This is where I belong.’
‘Then at least let me stay with you,’ Mitch offers earnestly. ‘Lizzie, you shouldn’t be alone tonight.’
Maybe she shouldn’t. But Mitch is the one person she absolutely cannot be with. She can’t even bear to look at him. She shakes her head and turns to speak to the funeral director. She doesn’t want to talk to this sombre man in the black suit—or anyone really—but she hopes this will make Mitch and his parents leave.
It does. The funeral director says something that Lizzie doesn’t bother listening to, and then he too departs.
At last she is alone.
For a long time she sits by the graves, crying. She cries until she has no tears left, then she stands up.
‘I’m sorry.’ The words are a whisper. ‘I promise you that I will look after Kayla. And Willowbrook. I won’t let anything take them away from me. I won’t let you down again.’
She wipes the tears from her face and walks down the hill.
She goes to the stables. She hasn’t been there since the day of the accident. She knows that Mitch has been looking after the horses. They’re fine, but Apollo needs exercise. Her father used to ride him every day and the horse is restless now, listening for a familiar voice he will never hear again. It’s the work of just a few minutes to get the stallion saddled then they leave the stables at a brisk trot. Lizzie has no real destination in mind, she just needs to escape. She spends hours with her father’s horse, trying to tire herself out so she will sleep properly.
That night, Lizzie stays in the stables. The house is too empty and too quiet. She lies awake, waiting, and stares into the darkness. In the stables there is faint noise and movement. There is life around her. She doesn’t sleep well, but she does get a few blissful moments of forgetting.
In the early morning she hears the sound of a car. She knows immediately who it is.
Mitch has come to help her. She gets up from the bed of straw where she has lain and, rubbing her hands over her face, goes to meet him.
Mitch doesn’t go to the house. He thinks—hopes—that Lizzie is there, sleeping. He knows she is exhausted by her grief. He is grieving too, but he is also desperate to find a way to help her. Looking after her horses is not enough, but it’s better than nothing.
Before he reaches the gate leading to the stables, Lizzie appears, her face puffy with sleep and tears. She is first to reach the gate. She walks through into the house yard and closes the gate firmly behind her.
‘Thanks for coming, Mitch,’ she says before he can speak. ‘I really appreciate all that you have done for me over the last couple of days. But I’m fine now. I don’t need your help any more.’
Her words are hard, but he knows that’s just her grief. ‘I want to help you, Lizzie. That’s what you do for people you love. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. You know that.’
‘I don’t need your help.’
‘You can’t do this all by yourself. And you don’t have to. We said we’d be together forever. This is what we meant. Helping each other through the bad times.’
‘No, Mitch. Don’t you understand? It’s our fault that they’re dead. My fault. And yours. If we hadn’t sneaked away, they would never have been on that road. They wouldn’t have died!’
She is almost screaming and that frightens Mitch. He reaches for her, but she slaps his hand away.
‘Don’t touch me. You can’t help me. I have to live with what I did—what we did—for the rest of my life.’
‘No! It’s not your fault. It was a terrible accident, but you’re not to blame. Neither am I.’
She shakes her head. ‘Please go away, Mitch. I can’t see you. I can’t be with you. Not now. Not any more.’
He goes, because he knows that to stay will only make matters worse, but he will come back. He’ll come back every day until she changes her mind. In a few weeks his family is moving to Queensland, and if she hasn’t relented he’ll have to go with them. But it won’t be forever. He won’t let her give up on them.