The Art of Preserving Love

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The Art of Preserving Love Page 38

by Robbi Neal


  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Can it happen on the ninth of November?’

  ‘Any reason for that date?’ he looked in his diary.

  ‘No none at all — just that it’s a Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can do it on a Sunday,’ he said. ‘There are two church services — one in the morning and one at night, as you know. It’s most unusual.’

  ‘We only ever go to the morning service. Couldn’t it be done at three in the afternoon?’

  He thought of the sister and the quietness that was filling his house. ‘Has she murdered them?’ he asked and they both laughed. ‘Sunday afternoon it is then. You will need to let me know what hymns you would like in the service — the week before will do. Perhaps you and your fiancé can come and see me that week.’

  ‘Yes, that would be fine,’ she said and he stood up.

  ‘We better go see what your sister has done to my children.’ They walked back into the kitchen and found Wycliffe and Martha clean, in pyjamas and eating fruit at the clean table. Wesley was in the kitchen sink being bathed.

  Gracie turned and smiled at them. ‘All set for the wedding then?’

  ‘Your sister’s smile,’ said Reuben to Edie, and he held his hand over his heart.

  Later that day Reuben piled the two youngest children into the pram, Wesley sitting on Martha’s lap and Wycliffe balancing on the axle at the back, and he wheeled them all to Ligar Street, where he was told he would find the church organist painting his house. He wanted to make sure that the hymns he had chosen for his first service were ones the organist knew.

  He saw the man up the ladder, splashes of yellow paint dripping down his overalls, and called out to him. The man held onto the ladder with one hand and turned and waved with the other, still holding the paintbrush, dripping yellow paint over the garden.

  When Reuben saw who it was he almost fell to his knees. Even though he was older, and had filled out, Reuben knew him the minute he saw him because he had seen him so often in his dreams and nightmares. When Theo had clambered down from the ladder and stood the paint tin safely on the grass, Reuben could wait no longer and he wrapped Theo in his arms and held him tight, wet paint and all.

  ‘You saved me,’ he said.

  ‘Ah no, I think you saved me,’ said Theo.

  ‘No, it was you who saved me,’ said Reuben.

  The two men sat for hours on the verandah, saying nothing while the children played around the tree in the front yard and the baby slept in the pram.

  ‘Is that a rose tree?’ asked Reuben.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Theo, ‘for another day.’

  Later that night Reuben swore that he would never question God or his ways again.

  Forty-Nine

  Sunday Afternoon

  Sunday, 10 November 1924, at 3 p.m., when the sun shines love on the world.

  The sun was kind and sweet and a warm glow settled on the earth making everyone feel sleepy and pleased with themselves. The musk ducks played in the tall grasses and children splashed and made as much noise as they could in the shallow muddy waters. A slight breeze blew and everyone agreed that all this talk about the economy could be left to the politicians and bankers and the ordinary folk could go on with the important things in life like visiting the lake, getting married, having babies, drinking tea and beer and finding love, which was often right in front of them and not hiding at all.

  In the morning Gracie, Lilly and Edie had gathered the most beautiful roses from the rose bush. They sat at the kitchen table and carefully removed the thorns from each stem and then they tied the stems together with red ribbons to create two posies.

  At three Edie stood in the entranceway in her new cream silk dress. It had lace at the neck in a V shape and lace trim on the hems. The sleeves hung loosely to her elbows and the dress was tied with a wide sash at her hips. It hung to just below her knees. She was wearing cream-coloured stockings and camel pumps. She had a wide-brimmed white hat and Gracie tucked a rose from the bush into the cream ribbon tied around the hat and the rose sat there, its red even richer, like glowing embers against the white of the hat.

  The sun shone through the leadlight windows and Edie stepped into the beams and let them turn her arm into a rainbow and she whispered her wish.

  Gracie had on a new dress too; it was blue like the summer sky with white lace trim and a white sash at her hips. Her cloche hat was pale blue to match. Paul was wearing his suit with a rose in the lapel and one in the band around his boxer. Lilly was wearing pale yellow with a matching hat that matched the new yellow of her house in Ligar Street. The cab arrived to take them to the church and Paul, Edie and Gracie sat in the back seat squashed together and Paul sat in the middle of Edie and Gracie and patted each girl’s hand and Lilly sat in the front.

  As Edie walked up the aisle, her arm in Paul’s and Gracie walking ahead of her, she saw Theo standing waiting for her. She knew the tiniest details about him, she knew them the same way she knew how to breathe the air or knew the thoughts in her heart and she realised that though they had not been together, they had never been apart.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day for a wedding, Miss Cottingham,’ he whispered as she reached him and he leant forward and she felt his lips press tenderly against hers and Reuben said, ‘Not yet,’ but he continued kissing her anyway and she remembered that girl who had stood under a tree waiting for his kiss and she was that girl.

  Acknowledgements

  The biggest thank you and love to the following people who have provided me with support, love, advice, gin and tonics and time to assist getting this book off the ground: Linda Funnell, Selwa Anthony, Linda Anthony, Peter Bishop, Annabel Blay, Jo Mackay, Peter Neal, Asher Leslie, Seth Leslie, Indea Leslie, Zane Neal, Maia Neal, Kylie Mitchell and Clara Edmonds.

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  ISBN: 9781489246820

  TITLE: THE ART OF PRESERVING LOVE

  First Australian Publication 2018

  Copyright © Robbi Neal

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher:

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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