The Memories We Hide

by jodi Gibson

  In the kitchen, Stella took a tissue out of the box on the bench and blew her nose. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura. I just don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s been worse than ever these past few days.’

  ‘It’s okay. She’s a teenager, and she’s got a lot going on. I think what she read in here,’ Laura tapped on Ryan’s journal, ‘will help. It just might take a bit for her to process. I remember when I did my counseling course we were told that small steps make big progress.’

  Stella’s brow furrowed, ‘I didn’t know you ended up going to counseling. Did Jude know?’

  ‘Mum made me go for one session very early on. But a while after, I enrolled in a counseling course. I almost finished it, but … well,’ Laura paused. ‘I got sidetracked with life.’ Laura shrugged, remembering that she’d met Luke around the same time.

  ‘Oh, okay. Well, I hope you’re right.’

  Laura said goodbye to Stella at the door. ‘I’m sure she’ll come around. And I’m here when she’s ready to talk more.’

  Stella embraced Laura. ‘Thank you. I know you tried.’

  Chapter 20

  Tom loaded the last of the broken gum branches on the back of the Ute as the rain welled on the brim of his Akubra and dripped down in front of his face. The strong winds had torn down part of an old tree along one of the eastern fence lines. He would have loved to pull out the damn tree, but it did offer shade to the cattle, and getting a permit to fell this variety of native eucalyptus wasn't worth the effort. Stupid environmental red tape.

  He jumped into the Ute and drove carefully back toward the house, trying to avoid the soft spots in the track. There was no end in sight to the rain, and tomorrow he would have to move the cows to higher ground. He was hoping his last cows would have calved by then.

  He pulled up to the paddock closest to the house to check on the last three pregnant cows. He jumped out of the Ute, unlatched the gate, and latched it behind him. He noticed two of the cows sheltering under the peppercorn tree, the other under the tin shelter that he’d laid with fresh hay that morning. The cow was tending to a newly born calf. He leaned down next to her and saw the little one, its legs tucked under its body. Mumma cow was still cleaning the amniotic fluid off with her sandpapery tongue. Tom crawled over to check that the calf was breathing, which it was. Nothing for him to do. He smiled. This was one of his favorite parts about the farm. New life. Watching as nature took its course.

  The cow got to her feet and nudged her baby to follow suit. The calf stumbled gingerly to her feet before bumbling over. She tried again, her bony little legs shaking as they tried to balance. A few moments later, the calf had balanced and was hungrily suckling, taking in all of the important colostrum that would see she got the best start to life.

  Tom pulled out his iPhone from his pocket and recorded the date, time, sex, sire, and dam details before taking a quick photo and returning to the car as the rain began to fall harder. He slammed the Ute door shut and sighed, a warm feeling buzzing inside him.

  Later that evening, Tom sat at his desk shuffling paperwork and entering data into spreadsheets. His plans were slowly coming together. Although he’d had to go into the red to source the semen and embryos, they’d stuck, and the calves that were coming through were proving to be sound. His two-year-olds would be ready to sell late winter, and as far as he could see, although market prices weren’t great, he had potential to do well with them. His meticulous record keeping and sound scientific breeding practices were producing quality stock with increased fertility, good temperament, and fast growth rates. Pushing boundaries to improve the genetics would see his cattle, his bulls in particular, in demand. He dreamed of one day holding his own sales, right here on the farm, like the top producers up in New South Wales. Heady dreams maybe, but he knew he could do it.

  He leaned back in his chair and sighed, his eyes drawn to the desk drawer. He opened the drawer and pulled out the letter, the formal black ink on the page bold and sharp.

  Dear Mr. Gordon,

  This is a courtesy letter to remind you that you are now ninety (90) days overdue on your loan repayment. As we have had no formal correspondence from you during this time, we urge you to contact us immediately.

  If you fail to do so, arrangements will be put into place to freeze your accounts and begin recovery proceedings.

  We urge you to contact us immediately.

  Sincerely,

  Royal Farmers Union Bank

  Tom rubbed his forehead. He knew he shouldn't have extended the loan, especially with his future plans needing financial backing, but he wanted to make sure his parents had enough money to take their trip. After the balance of the farm was signed over to him, his parents only had enough to do half of what they wanted, so Tom decided to do something about it, telling them he had been saving and that the spring sales had gone extra well. At first, his dad wouldn't accept the money, but Tom had insisted. It was the least he could do.

  His parents had worked hard every day of their lives. They deserved to enjoy their twilight years before they got too old. The last time his mum had called, she’d told him they were up on the northwest coast of Australia near Carnarvon. His mum babbled on with excitement about the sunset they had just witnessed while walking along the mile-long jetty. She’d said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. ‘The colors, Tom. Oh, the colors. I've never seen anything like it, even on the farm. Orange, auburn, pinks, and reds melting into the sea. It was amazing. Even your dad was speechless!’

  Just remembering the emotion in her voice made Tom choke up. It was worth it. He just needed to find a way to hold off the hounds. Just till the sales. Then he’d be back on track. He hoped.

  Tom folded up the letter and placed it back into the drawer. Loneliness began to settle in his bones once again, as it did more and more these days. If only he had someone to talk to, to confide in. Someone to talk about other things than the farm, money, and what the weather held for the next three months.

  Again, his thoughts turned to Laura and the other night. The kiss. Her lips were soft like rose petals. It had taken all of his resolve not to ravish her. And then he remembered their fight. He hung his head, the guilt of not being upfront with Laura when he should have weighing him down. He still remembered the burning anger he felt the night he saw Ryan and Rachel kiss. It still made his jaw clench.

  It was the night of Ryan’s eighteenth, a few weeks after the Easter party.

  Tom threw another log on the bonfire. It crackled and flared into the still black sky. The cold winter air bit at his nose and he shifted closer to the fire.

  ‘The first of us to be legal, and you're spending the night here on the farm,’ he said to Ryan as he downed a beer.

  ‘Yeah, well, who else am I going to go to the pub with? You're all too young!’

  ‘Not for long! I'm next!’ Rachel said. ‘Seventeen days, in fact. And you’d better throw a much better party than this for me.’

  ‘Hey!’ Laura smiled, slapping her on the leg.

  ‘Only kidding. Mum’s insisting on throwing me a party down at the tennis club.’

  ‘Ooh la la, the tennis club,’ Tom said as he rubbed his hands together over the coals.

  ‘Shut up!’ Rachel hissed through a smile. ‘It’ll be the best party this year. I promise you.’

  ‘Got anything else other than beer?’ Laura asked Tom, peering toward the esky beside her.

  ‘Mum's got some wine inside, I reckon.’

  ‘Oooh, that's a bit refined. Anything sweet?’ Laura asked.

  ‘I dunno, I s’pose. Come on, we'll raid her secret stash.’

  Tom walked Laura to the house, glad for some time with her. He hadn’t seen much of her, since they only had one class together this semester, and any spare time she had she spent with Ryan. He missed their chats and the smell of her fruity perfume. Most of all, he missed her infectious laughter. Ryan was a lucky guy. But he had the goods. Looks, sporting ability, charisma. Not like Tom. Laura’d n
ever see past the farm boy he was. Tom knew that. She deserved better, anyway.

  Tom and Laura crept in the back door, trying not to disturb Bessie on her bed, but it was to no avail. She lifted her head in anticipation of a pat. Thump, thump, thump. Her tail pounded the floorboards in the kitchen in front of the combustion stove where she was curled up.

  ‘Is that you, Tom?’ Tom’s mum called out from the adjacent living room.

  ‘Yeah, Mum, just grabbing some water.’

  Laura giggled. “Water?” she whispered. ‘As if she’ll believe that!’

  ‘It’s for Laura, she’s feeling sick.’ He winked.

  ‘Oh, is she okay? Do you want me to come out?’

  ‘No! Mrs. G, I’m okay, just a bit queasy. I’ll be fine. Thanks.’ Laura squinted her eyes in annoyance at Tom while trying to stifle her giggling.

  Tom opened the door of the walk-in pantry. The shelves were well stocked, as always. Tom’s mum loved to cook. And Tom loved nothing better than coming home to freshly baked biscuits after school or warming winter casseroles after a day in the crush, and of course, her hot buttery scones for Sunday breakfasts.

  Tom reached up to the top shelf. ‘Here it is. Her finest.’

  Laura grabbed the green bottle out of Tom’s hand, her fingers gently brushing his, resulting in his heartbeat increasing.

  ‘Margaret River Chardonnay.’ Laura read the label, her eyes wide. ‘Sweet, luscious white wine with hints of peach, citrus, and nectarine,’ she read. ‘Are you kidding? We can’t take this. It looks expensive! And it says, Serve chilled.’

  ‘Nah, don’t worry about that. It’s like ten degrees outside. And look, there’s a whole box of it. She’s a member of some wine club and orders all this shit and never drinks it. She’ll never even know.’

  ‘No, Tom. I can’t.’

  Tom grabbed the bottle and smiled. ‘But I can! Come on!’

  ‘Tom, you’re so bad!’ Laura jeered. ‘Hang on, I have to go to the loo. You go.’

  ‘Alrighty. I’ll grab some plastic cups.’

  ‘Plastic? All class you are, Tom Gordon!’

  Tom watched as Laura wandered off down the hallway, an ache beginning inside him. He’d missed their banter. He grabbed some plastic cups from the cupboard near the sink, glancing through the kitchen window toward the silhouettes of Rachel and Ryan dark against the glow of the bonfire. Then he looked closer, squinting to try and understand what he was seeing. It wasn’t two silhouettes, but one. Ryan was kissing Rachel. And it was no friendly peck on the cheek. He had one hand on the back of her head and the other on her waist. This was no first kiss. This was no silly, drunk, happy birthday kiss. This was a deep, passionate, familiar kiss. The kind Tom dreamed of with Laura.

  ‘Tom? You coming?’

  Tom startled and spun around to see Laura standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His pulse began to race.

  ‘Tom?’ Laura raised one eyebrow as she always did. It made her look cute.

  ‘Um, yep. Just grabbing the cups,’ he said, fumbling the cups into the sink. He scrambled to pick them up and then rustled through the cutlery drawer to find the corkscrew, making as much noise as he could to distract Laura from looking out the window.

  ‘Okay! Let’s go!’ he practically yelled.

  ‘Shh!’ Laura hushed.

  ‘You two okay?’ his mum called out.

  ‘Yes, Mum, no worries. Just heading back out to the bonfire,’ he called, raising his voice louder than needed.

  ‘Well keep it down, okay? Your father’s in bed.’

  Tom grabbed Laura’s hand and made sure she was behind him as he swung open the back door. It slammed against the back weatherboards of the kitchen wall. Bessie barked.

  ‘Jesus, Tom!’ his mum exclaimed at the noise.

  Tom looked toward the bonfire and saw that Ryan and Rachel had moved apart, and his heart slowed. As he and Laura walked back to the bonfire, his hackles began to rise. This was shit. What the fuck was Ryan doing?

  ‘What the hell?’ Rachel said as she grabbed the bottle of wine out of Tom’s hands. ‘This is like really expensive!’

  ‘I hope it tastes good then.’ Laura smiled.

  Tom ignored them both, sat down, and sculled the last of his beer as he glared into the fire, unable to look at Ryan or Rachel. All of a sudden Tom was hot. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His fists clenched.

  ‘Tom?’ Laura said, tapping his knee.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The corkscrew?’ Rachel said.

  He threw the corkscrew at Rachel's lap, and it hit her square on the knee.

  ‘Hey, what’s with you?’ Rachel said, maneuvering the cork from the bottle.

  Ryan, Rachel and Laura continued talking, but it was all white noise to Tom’s ears. He just wanted to get out of there, unable to breathe the same air as them. He jumped to his feet, threw the empty can into the fire, and started walking back to the house.

  ‘Tom?’ said Laura.

  ‘Hey, where you going?’ Rachel yelled. ‘More wine?’ The two girls erupted into fits of giggles as they sipped the liquid from their plastic cups.

  A moment later, Ryan jogged up behind him. ‘Hey, man? You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Fuck off, Ryan,’ Tom replied without stopping.

  ‘Whoa, what crawled up your arse all of a sudden?’

  Tom spun around to Ryan, his mouth tight and fists clenched. It felt like the anger was bubbling out of his every pore.

  ‘I saw you two,’ he whispered through gritted teeth, gesturing toward Rachel. ‘I saw you kissing her.’

  Ryan’s smug face dropped and he tilted his head back. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Yeah. That's right. Your dirty little secret’s out. You two make me sick,’ he said, turning back toward the house.

  ‘Hey, I can explain.’ Ryan reached for his shoulder, and it took every ounce of strength Tom had not to turn around and smash his face.

  ‘Explain?’ he snapped, trying to keep his voice low and level. ‘What's to explain? It's pretty obvious, mate.’

  ‘I know. We—we’re going to tell Laura. But, we don’t want to hurt her either. It’s just happened. We didn’t mean for it to. It just happened,’ Ryan said, his eyes darting from side to side.

  ‘You’re pathetic.’

  ‘Please man, don't say anything.’

  Tom fronted up to Ryan, adrenaline surging through him. ‘You fix it. Or I will tell Laura.’ And then he flung open the screen door and stormed upstairs.

  Once upstairs, Tom looked out the window. Ryan was now back with the girls. They were huddled close, and for a split second, he actually thought Ryan was coming clean. That was until they all threw their heads back in laughter and raised their cups.

  Tom held his head in his hands as the memory disappeared and stupid questions began entering his mind. Why didn’t he tell Laura sooner? If he had, would it have changed anything? Would Ryan still be alive? Would Laura feel differently for Tom?

  Maybe it was too late. He’d had his chance. And you didn’t get second chances with a girl like Laura. As his mum would often say, ‘You made your bed, now you gotta lie in it.’ She was right. Tom had to lie in his bed every night, alone, wondering how things would have turned out if he’d handled the situation differently. If he’d had the balls to tell Laura about Ryan and Rachel when he should have. If he’d had the balls to tell her he loved her.

  But it was too late for all that now. He’d blown it with Laura for a second time. There wouldn’t be another chance.

  Tom was about to call it a night when a message appeared on his phone. Laura.

  Hi, sorry it’s late, but I was hoping to come out to see you in the morning. To apologize. For everything. I understand if you’re too busy. Or don’t want to see me after how I yelled at you the other night.

  Tom’s heart picked up speed. He fought the urge to grab his phone and reply too quickly. After a moment, he tapped out a message.

  Sure. I’m around. What time? I’ll
make sure I’m up at the house.

  How’s 9:30?

  Sounds good.

  Okay, see you then. Good night.

  Night.

  He put the phone down gently on the desk and leaned back on the chair, clasping his hands behind his head. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends. Maybe he could fix this and have a chance with Laura. It was now or never.

  Chapter 21

  Laura woke early the next morning after a sleepless night. She needed to clear her head, so she drove out to Creek View Lookout. Following the road west out of town, she turned off toward the scrubby hills and up a winding road to the top of the Banyula Ranges. She parked in the gravel parking lot and walked the five hundred meters toward the lookout, carefully dodging the muddy puddles before reaching the clearing. On a clear day, you could see for miles into the distance—Banyula to the left, and further to the right, the town of Clear Springs. Clear Creek could be seen snaking its way in and around Banyula and then over to Clear Springs and beyond. Today, however, a sheet of gray blanketed the horizon, and low-lying clouds settled in the valley along the creek.

  Laura positioned herself on the edge of a smooth rock and inhaled the eucalyptus hanging in the air, its scent heightened by the dampness. Laura remembered coming up here with her mum, usually as a way to fill in a lazy summer Sunday. They’d sit on the large boulders, shaded by gum trees, with their backs to the sun. Sometimes they’d pack sandwiches for a picnic lunch, but Laura’s favorite was when Judy would surprise her with a bag of Fantales to share. They’d spend the afternoon chewing on the hard caramel lollies, taking turns reading out the trivia questions from the wrappers. Judy, a self-confessed movie buff, would usually get the answers right before Laura had even finished reading.

  Laura stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tension between her shoulder blades slowly release. A lone crow echoed in the background, and the breeze made the overhead gums look like they were slow dancing. In the distance, Laura spotted a wallaby through the scrub, disturbing a honeyeater as it bounded past. Being here, surrounded by nature, made Laura wonder how life got so complicated.