‘Oh, come off it, boss.’
‘No, it’s true. You’ve gone and done something on your own initiative without being told and it’s the wrong thing!’
RJ shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. ‘Didn’t she give you some idea she was going when she got her pay?’
Adam raked a hand through his hair. ‘She didn’t come and ask me for anything.’
‘You haven’t paid her?’ RJ was wide-eyed.
Not something RJ would ever let Adam get away with.
‘That’s what I said. I haven’t paid her because I had no idea she was leaving!’
‘What happened? What did you do?’
Adam shook his head. He couldn’t recollect. Couldn’t think straight. ‘I don’t know. I came home. Rachael was here. I asked her to get Michael. He wasn’t here. I asked her to get Ivy. She didn’t even bother coming to check on me. I thought she might have.’
‘Well, Rachael’s not here either.’
Adam flashed a glance. ‘Did she go to get Michael?’
RJ shrugged. ‘Beats me.’
Adam threw himself back on the unmade bed. He hadn’t had lunch, or breakfast, for that matter. His stomach was gnawing on his spine. But Ivy wasn’t here, Rachael was gone, and the son he hadn’t seen in years still wasn’t at home where he should be.
‘When is Ivy leaving?’
‘She’s already gone, I told you that.’ RJ looked at him as though he were stupid.
‘I mean, when is her plane due for take-off?’
‘All I know is she’s going to touch down at Sydney airport tonight.’
Adam got off the bed and looked at the crutches the ambo had left. Adam grumbled, ‘Didn’t think it took that long, by plane.’
‘Where are you going, boss?’
‘The airport! Where else? But if she’s already left by the time we arrive, well we’re headed to the Big Smoke.’
‘Sydney?’
‘You probably hate the place as much as I do. We’re going there for one reason, RJ.’
The stockman nodded. ‘You wanna bring her home?’
Adam nodded. ‘You bet I do. Now, help me down these stairs. I need to get some cash for the trip and then we’ll have to get going.’
Adam clumped towards the phone. He rummaged for Ivy’s number, drumming fingers on his thigh as he waited for her to pick up. He eyed his bad leg savagely, willing it to just cut him some slack. Help him out. Last thing he needed was this stupid break he had to carry about.
He called again. But Ivy wasn’t interested to give him the time. He had to sort this mess before her plane took off from that tarmac.
He had come out in a sweat again. The effort to walk was just that. Now frustration made him clumsy, and the uncooperative leg was making a mockery of his every attempt.
‘Settle down, Cobber,’ RJ cautioned Adam. ‘You’ve already had one catastrophe. If you want to reach the airport before the plane heads out, you better slow down.’
‘You’re going to have to drive,’ Adam told him. RJ nodded, holding one of the crutches as Adam opened the drawer of the writing bureau. But there was no money.
‘She’s taken it.’
‘That’s why she didn’t ask for any pay.’
Adam was impatient. ‘No, not Ivy, I mean Rachael. She asked me for one-thousand bucks and I trusted her to only take what she needed. Looks like she’s taken the lot.’ Adam rifled through the drawer, pushing things left and right.
‘Are you sure there was more in there?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘How do you know Ivy isn’t to blame? Left in a hurry without even saying goodbye. What makes you think she didn’t take what she thought you owed her?’
‘Because I told Rachael where to find the cash, but more than that, I know Rachael. Can’t believe I never thought to question her honesty. Should have known all that cash would have been too much temptation.’
RJ nodded. ‘Yeah, you’ve got a point.’
‘I couldn’t trust Rachael before. I don’t trust her now. You know that as well as I do. I thought that if I let her have one-thousand, she’d be happy enough with that. But, you know what thinking did …’
‘What did she want it for?’
‘Said she owed money.’ Adam closed the drawer and looked at the stockman. His heart had begun to pound like it was going to jump clear through his chest. If he wasn’t careful he’d give himself a heart attack. He forced himself to take a long, deep breath.
‘I’ll try calling Rachael’s phone, though she never answers the thing. Every time I’ve called it’s gone straight to message bank.’ He pulled out his wallet and found a withered piece of paper, folded and cracked.
‘The number you have called has been disconnected,’ he repeated, turning to RJ. ‘Why am I not surprised?’
RJ stood there, biting his lip.
‘She’s probably gone to get Michael. And now I won’t be here when he gets back.’
RJ shrugged. ‘So?’
Adam lost it. ‘I haven’t seen him for three years, mate! Three long years. She’s come here without warning, doesn’t even care enough to bring him in to sit with me a while, and now she’s gone and taken every last cent in the desk.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Adam snatched the crutches from RJ and hobbled to the door, yelling out over his shoulder, ‘I’m going to hope that Rachael hasn’t done what I’m afraid of. I’m going to hope and pray that Michael is where she said he is—even for one minute—so that I can say, son, it’s me. I’m your dad.’ His voice cracked. He took a deep breath and eyeballed RJ. ‘And then I’m going to get to the airport before that plane takes off.’
‘I think praying is taking it a bit far, boss.’
Adam turned around to look at RJ. He looked at him long and hard. ‘You haven’t had kids, have you, mate?’
RJ shook his head.
‘Then you don’t know what true fear is. The kind that forces a man to pray.’
RJ looked uncomfortable with this kind of talk. He scratched his head and cleared his throat.
‘Where to first?’
‘We head into town. Let’s hope Rachael hasn’t left my parents’ house. Then we get to the airport and hope that Ivy hasn’t boarded for Brisbane, en route to Sydney.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
RJ went straight for the Bedford ute that stood like a red bucket of rust and a real dubious amount of country class. Adam stopped in his tracks and shook his head.
‘No way we’re going in that thing.’
Adam made his way towards the Holden garaged in the shed instead, trying to keep his cast from trailing the ground. Right then, Adam had about as much acceleration in him as RJ’s Bedford fruito ute.
‘You can drive mine.’ Adam sent the keys in an underarm throw to RJ. The stockman sat in the driver’s seat and nodded in satisfaction. He gave the car a bit too much throttle and they were pushed back in their seats as the Holden cleared the paddocks and took the cattle grid.
The sun was lazy on the horizon. It stretched over the back of Mount Archer in the distance. But Adam’s anxiety soared as Sulphur Crested Cockatoos flew dizzily overhead. The sounds from his empty stomach were drowned by their squawk. Fear threatened to overtake him as he thought about Michael … about Ivy. He looked up into the vast blue of the sky, afraid that at any moment he might see an aircraft over his head like some wide-winged thing that had touched down at Capricorn Station way too briefly before it found its flight path home.
When RJ pulled into the retirement village, Adam’s stomach turned over. There was no car out the front. No childish laughter that he so badly wanted to hear. Only two lonely looking white Adirondack chairs that had been in the family for years, painted and repainted.
As he hobbled past them he glanced down at
the slatted thirties-era American styled seats, seeing in the late afternoon light that the enamel was cracked. Like old sun-parched skin, patched and painted, they had grown weary. Somehow it made him sad. He felt a pang to know that these beloved old chairs were way past their prime, too.
The door was closed. Adam knocked and checked the handle. Of course it was locked. Every door, window and security screen was stuck and locked intentionally. It hadn’t been a long time since they’d left the country, but now they were in town, nothing escaped into the living area unseen, not even a lone blowfly.
His head cocked, Adam heard a footfall, saw movement, and then Mum swung open the door. She was beaming as he limped over the threshold. She barely noticed the cast on his leg, as though he carried one around all the time. Dad stood at the entry to the kitchen, limp as a pair of thrown off socks.
‘She’s not here?’
‘No, son, she’s gone.’ Mum was still smiling. He wanted to turn away from her happiness, from his dad’s easy smile. He put his hand out and grabbed the architrave, finding strength, holding up against defeat. He leaned against the hardwood, knowing that she had gone, taking the son he so badly wanted to see. He heard Mum exclaiming, and as her words fell in disjointed fragments, he looked up.
There was a boy with dark hair—dark curly hair—eating biscuits at the kitchen table with a glass of milk at his hand. Adam heard his mother talking and his father was shuffling forward even as Adam groped his way to the kid. Adam grabbed him, pulled him up as the milk glass fell on its side. Michael allowed Adam to fold him into desperate arms that had yearned for this moment for three whole years.
Adam pulled away a bit to look into his face. ‘Do you remember who I am?’
‘Of course. You’re my dad. I know. I know who you are.’ There were biscuit crumbs around his mouth and he was warm and sweet as home cooking—the fragrance of babyhood that came back in a rush—and Adam fell onto the chair with Michael, like he was suddenly an old man, weak but with a heart full of the son he clung to.
‘Why are you crying?’ Michael asked.
‘He’s just happy,’ Mum said. It was like she hardly knew what to do with the tea towel that she squeezed between her hands, fresh milk soaked in it. Then his mum was mopping the tears that spilled over her cheeks, and his dad’s chuckle fell around them, suddenly free.
‘I’ve missed you at home.’
Michael shrugged, clueless. A mannerism of Rachael’s, but he had eyes like Adam’s own, and curls just like he’d had as a boy.
‘I don’t really remember you, but I remember the windows in the house. I remember Granny’s pikelets.’
Adam nodded but he felt a pang of regret. Reminded himself that it wasn’t his fault, not the boy’s either. None of this was Michael’s fault.
‘Did you meet Ivy?’
‘She can make Granny’s pikelets, too.’
‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’
Michael nodded and then looked away. ‘We’ve got a secret.’
Adam smiled, quizzical. ‘You and Ivy?’
‘Yep.’ But Adam guessed he wasn’t about to share it since it was a secret, so he just smiled and drank in his son’s features with his eyes.
‘So, where’s your mum?’
‘She had to go. Said she’d be back but that you’d look after me. Are we going to go back to your place?’
‘Did she say when she’d be back?’ Adam looked to his mother. His mum looked blank, shook her head.
‘I had a boy called Adam,’ his dad said to Michael. Adam’s heart sank as he realised his dad was having a bad day. He watched as the old man shuffled from the kitchen sink.
‘I grew up.’ Adam smiled at Michael in explanation. Adam and his mother shared a quick glance.
‘He could ride horses.’ Trevor made as if to hold reins and prepare to trot an imaginary horse. Michael laughed and got up to follow the leader. For Adam, the moment of his dad playing with Michael was bittersweet. But for Michael it was just a game. Adam watched as his dad whipped up the horse. Michael did the same. Then Trevor tripped on the mat and fell heavily on the floor.
‘What did you go and do that, for?’ Trevor pushed Grace away. She was red in the face as though he’d slapped her. ‘You spooked the horse!’ he accused.
Michael looked at Adam. The boy’s eyes were wide. What Michael thought was a game had ended badly. Now there was anger in his grandad’s eyes, and spit flew from his mouth. Adam pulled Michael towards him a little. He remembered that RJ was still in the car, and that Ivy was probably checking in her bags by now.
‘Come on, love,’ his mum was cajoling. ‘Let me help you up.’
Trevor pouted, a truculent child now, allowing himself to be helped to stand. Adam knew that his mum couldn’t look after Dad forever. And he was pretty sure she knew it too—the warmth had gone from her eyes, and when she gave Adam a smile, he was reminded that Alzheimer’s was a possessive companion, and no matter how unwanted, it was going to stick around until his father left them one day.
Adam looked at Michael. ‘Do you want to come for a drive in our new car?’
Michael nodded and stood up. He took Adam’s hand.
‘Here’s his bag.’ His mum passed the plastic shopping bag to Adam.
‘Where’s the rest of your gear?’ Adam frowned.
‘At your place.’
Adam was a little surprised. Rachael had left her son and his clothing, yet she had taken every cent. When did she plan on coming back?
‘We need to go and get Ivy.’
‘Mum said she’s a cow.’
‘What, with a smile like that?’ Adam made light. ‘She’s like a bag of lollies every colour of the rainbow.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The plane had been delayed for hours. Had taken all day to fix the thing. This equated to the time it took to drown her sorrows in a large box of chocolates and copious amounts of coffee. Ivy took her phone out once again, just to double check it was on silent. She blinked down at the notifications. Capricorn Station had tried calling a couple of times. Her fingers hovered as she hesitated, before she shoved the phone in her luggage. Out of sight and out of mind. It was a vain hope. She wasn’t about to forget about that man at the other end of those calls for some time.
Jaded travellers sat hunched in the backwater airport. Night had stolen in. A dark veil of silence waited beyond the glass panels of the airport. A landing trail of tourists and quiet cowboys milled around, while outside there would be stars and crickets and the smell of dust from paddocks nearby. Not so many miles distant in the darkness was a big white station and him.
Ivy wondered if she would be able to see the glow of light from the plane above. She doubted it, but knew she would peer out the window to search, regardless. One last look, one last glimpse at Capricorn Station.
At the cafe, a lone traveller ordered a coffee. Ivy smelled the beans as the barista ground them to grit. They smelled warm and sweet, heady as a hot night. The comforting aroma came at odds with her emotions in this large country town, because it hardly gave her comfort at all. She felt like a foreigner. But then to some extent she was. Ivy was nothing more than a passer-by, an outsider in this sunburned spot of heaven. How foolish she had been to think that she could have fitted in.
She shouldn’t have brought the new western saddle with her. She ought to have left it behind with the jangle of bridles and reins in the tack room. It was a memory better left behind, beautiful bejewelled piece of craftsmanship that it was. The mirrored diamantes could have dulled with dust in the tack room, so as not to remind her of her failed jillaroo idea. Her life was a whole heap of bad decisions and half-baked dreams. Projects begun and never finished, every brief relationship ended with disaster, and the last one in Sydney had ripped a half of her heart out, leaving her wounded and bleeding in a way she thought she’d never get over. Until A
dam had given her hope that was. But now Ivy felt like her whole heart had shrivelled up and died.
She hadn’t taken the pay owed to her. It was only money, anyway. Guilt niggled for not having said goodbye. How much better was she than her own dad in the end? But it was too late now to turn back. The old red utility truck had long disappeared down the pandanus palmed street. Ivy wasn’t needed anyway. Adam would be glad she was gone. Pony club for kindergarteners, he had said. Ivy didn’t know if she’d ever throw her leg over a horse again, only to stir up memories better left at Capricorn Station. She didn’t think so. Time to board. Time to fly home.
She would shake the place eventually. Capricorn Station would wash off with the dust, just like her jeans would be spotless when she laundered them and pulled them from the washing machine. Years from now, the tea tree scrub and emu plains would continue to struggle to thrive in the dry season, only to burst into bud after the rains, regardless of her brief stay, or anyone else’s who came to try and tame this place. This land didn’t need her affections, and nor did Adam O’Rourke.
Ivy sat and sobbed as she waited to board the plane. People came and went, and she didn’t care one bit. It felt like her heart had been stamped on, all over again. Ivy wasn’t sure where home was any more. She was churned up with the knowledge that she hadn’t had the guts to say goodbye. Maybe he would have told her the circumstances surrounding the return of Rachael. Yet, what difference would it have made? She was his wife and she’d come home.
Adam hadn’t told her lies, hadn’t cheated on her or made any promise she could hold on to.
Ivy handed over her ticket, had it swiped and then walked out into the embrace of the southern hemisphere air. A warm breeze blew up from the tarmac. She felt the adrenaline throb of the aircraft. It hit her in the chest like heartache. It made her want to weep. Ivy willed herself to climb the galvanised iron stairs to the waiting airplane. Touchdown had been so exciting, now the airplane just seemed like defeat.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was a kind-looking woman. She nodded her head in the direction of the departure lounge. ‘I think someone is trying to get your attention.’
Central to Nowhere Page 10
