Set In Stone

by Ros Baxter

  The good doctor shrugged. ‘All the better,’ she said, holding out an arm. ‘You’ll need a friendly face.’

  Lou watched in amazement as her father took the doctor’s arm, and held his other out to her. She grasped it, relief surging through her that this woman had turned up exactly at the right time, and managed to inject a dose of something good into her father.

  Maybe she really was a miracle worker.

  But by the time they entered the room, Lou’s confidence evaporated.

  The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer, and the excited buzz of conversation had a decidedly cranky tone. Most of the room’s occupants were men, along with all of the people sitting at the front table: Matt Finlay; Brian Buchanan, red-faced President-for-life of the Cattlemen’s Association; and a good-looking fifty-something guy whose jeans were too new and boots were too shiny. He had to be from Clean Gas.

  There was a momentary lull as they entered the room, then the buzz started again, even more loudly and with an even crankier edge. Lou was sure if they’d lived in a different time, someone might have called for the tar and feathers.

  ‘Like tearing off a Band-Aid,’ Gary said, escorting Lou and Martha to the very front row and depositing them in some seats. ‘Best get on with it.’

  The mayor made his way to the front of the room, shaking hands with Matt, Brian and the company man on his way to the seat closest to the lectern. Lou’s insides fluttered as she watched his clench-jawed determination. She tried to glance around the room without being too obvious, using the elaborate ritual of settling her bag to reconnoitre the scene behind her. And, of course, like heat-seeking missiles, her eyes found him almost immediately. It was as though the two of them had some kind of internal magnets, drawing them to each other, because Gage found her at the same time.

  He was sitting almost dead centre in the room, dressed to kill (hopefully not Lou, or her father) in a charcoal shirt and his best blue jeans. He’d left his hat at home, but was clean shaven and determined. His father sat on one side of him, and Piper on the other. Piper looked classic and beautiful in tailored grey pants and a simple white shirt. Her hair was scraped into a high bun, showing off the spectacular lines of her cheekbones and jaw. Lou’s heart melted at the sight of her, even from such a quick glance. She already missed her, and it had only been a couple of days.

  But it was the look Gage gave her that most unnerved her.

  There was something simultaneously cold and broken about him. He was sitting very still, and he looked a long way away, like he was an automaton, just going through the motions, carved from the stone of his beloved mountain. Like her, he couldn’t help meeting her eyes. Unlike her, he seemed to have made up his mind to hate her. Perhaps this was the result of the finality of her words the other night; perhaps he’d realised she was involved with her father’s plans with Clean Gas.

  Perhaps a little of both.

  Watching him, Lou’s fingers tingled, wanting to go over and touch him, reach out and feel the warmth of his skin, tell him she had never wanted to hurt him, would never hurt him. But it was too late for that. She had, and no doubt she would again, given the chance.

  And she was going to do it some more tonight.

  She slumped in the uncomfortable plastic chair. She couldn’t go to Gage. God alone knew what Piper and Bo were making of all of this. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, and even if Lou did see her, she would only feel the old blend of hurt, disappointment and bitterness. She and Sharni were still partway at odds, at least until they could patch things up. And her father was about to become the sacrificial lamb for a godless drought.

  Lou felt suddenly, entirely, alone. She was used to feeling alone, but somehow in the city it was easier. She had built a little burrow for herself. She had her work, a few friends, and Sharni. She stayed busy, and tried not to think about all she had left behind, and what she had lost. A film of tears clouded her vision as she cursed herself for coming to the damned reunion. It had been such a stupid idea. One night – in, out. Yeah, right.

  Look what had happened. She had landed in the middle of a damned disaster – a fire, cancer, the stuff with her father. And if they hadn’t come back, the whole thing between Sharni and Matt might never have reared its crazy head again. She and Sharni could be back in Sydney, enjoying shiatsu and eating vegetarian Vietnamese spring rolls. Their only dose of country would be watching re-runs of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

  Lou tried to release the sigh that was caught inside her quietly so that Martha O’Brien, sitting beside her, might not notice it. But Lou was pretty sure the doctor noticed anyway, because the older woman reached over, picked up Lou’s hand, squeezed it, and placed it firmly in her own lap, keeping it entwined with hers and giving it a little pat for good measure. Lou supposed Dr O’Brien knew some things about providing comfort, but it didn’t matter to her right now that this was a professionally learned skill. It just helped. The warm press of her palms seemed to radiate calm into the deepest parts of her, and Lou took a few deep, steadying breaths.

  Then Martha spoke, very quietly so no-one would overhear. ‘You got a rough deal in this town, sweetheart,’ she said, patting Lou’s hand again. ‘I know all about it.’ She paused. ‘And I know about tonight, too, and how hard it’s going to be for you.’

  ‘He told you?’ Lou turned to face Martha. She was very surprised her father would tell this woman what was going on. But as she met those intelligent blue eyes, she got it. Martha was the kind of woman you could tell things to. The kind of woman who understood things, a whole lot of things that other people might not get. She looked like she understood compromise, and the imperfection of humans, and could still like them.

  For the second time since she had met her, Lou had the strongest urge to lay her head down on this woman’s lap and let her pat her hair.

  Martha nodded. ‘He did.’

  Lou considered the doctor. ‘Are you two …?’

  Martha laughed. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Not yet.’ She paused, looking at Lou as though she was assessing her capacity to understand things. ‘But I think we will be. Sometime. Maybe sometime soon.’

  ‘Even though …?’ Lou flapped a hand at the lectern where her father was shuffling papers and readying himself to start proceedings.

  Martha laughed again, and the sound was lovely. ‘Even though,’ she agreed, patting Lou’s hand again. Then a small frown creased her brow. ‘You know, Louise, you don’t need to understand all the reasons people have for being the way they are. Sometimes you can just accept them.’

  Lou had the very strong feeling they were talking about more than Martha and her father.

  ‘You mean my mother, don’t you? Skye.’ Lou grimaced at Martha. ‘You don’t know the whole story. You might think you do, but you don’t. No-one does.’

  Martha shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter in the end,’ she said, letting go of Lou’s hand and wrapping an arm around her shoulders instead. ‘You know that? It actually doesn’t matter what Skye did, or didn’t, do.’ She squeezed Lou’s shoulders a little. ‘Or even both.’ She smoothed Lou’s hair from behind, like she wanted to ease some of her tension.

  Lou closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it might have been like to have someone like this as her mother, someone so wise, and so kind; someone who did motherly things.

  ‘It doesn’t matter because making peace with all that shit isn’t about Skye.’ Martha squeezed Lou’s shoulders again. ‘It’s about letting go of all that stuff you’re carrying around on these skinny little shoulders. Not for her. For you.’ Then she pulled her hand off Lou’s shoulders and reached down to rummage in her bag, pulling out a pair of square black glasses. ‘People are so funny,’ she muttered as she fixed them on her nose. ‘All that Dr Phil shit. We all think we have to resolve everything; make peace with our demons. Blah blah.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Sometimes we don’t have to do any resolving, any working through or working out. Someti
mes we just gotta let go. Accept that it is what it is. And we’re here. We’re alive. We survived. And we’re gonna be okay.’

  Lou smiled weakly at Martha, feeling those all-seeing magic eyes bore into her. ‘Is this what you get from working with people who are dying?’

  Martha chuckled. ‘Maybe,’ she agreed. ‘One thing’s for sure.’ She winked and settled back in her chair to watch the action. ‘I never met someone who was dying who wished they’d been angrier with people.’

  Lou wouldn’t have thought anything could distract her as her father called the meeting to order. She would have thought she would be so preoccupied by worrying about how he would go and how the town would react that she couldn’t think about anything else. But as he tapped the little microphone and asked people to shush, Martha’s words swirled like a kaleidoscope in her brain. She had really never thought about such an option; it had always seemed to her she either needed to make up with her mother, and make peace with what had happened here, or stay away; she couldn’t live here in some limbo between the two. A tiny strand of lightness entered her heart at the thought. It wasn’t some great revelation, not some backlit epiphany, just a thought that settled and looked for room inside her as she watched what was about to happen. Something to think about later.

  Her father cleared his throat. ‘Well, thank you everyone for coming along tonight, and in such numbers.’

  A loud ‘boo’ sounded from the back of the hall, and Lou’s stomach lurched. Martha placed her arm around the back of Lou’s chair again, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

  Gary almost lost his stride but covered it quickly with a crooked smile. ‘I can see we’re getting in practice for the footy game this weekend.’ He paused. ‘Go the Bombers,’ he added, and a few people laughed grudgingly. Gary seemed to visibly relax. Lou wished she could hold up a sign saying: Remember these are your people, Dad.

  Gary cleared his throat and started again, speaking slowly and simply. ‘As you all know, following the ad in today’s paper, we’re here to discuss council invoking the special circumstances powers so we can sell the Maria Downs parcel of land to Clean Gas. I’m not going to make any bones about it – most of you don’t like the idea. It means you won’t have any choice, Clean Gas will get right of way over your land and some exploration rights as well.’

  The few voices that had been muttering discontentedly stopped to listen to what he had to say. They liked and respected him enough to give him that, at least. This was vintage Gary Samuels – plain speaking, honest, careful.

  The mayor pushed his hair out of his face and glanced around the room before continuing. ‘So I guess you’re probably wondering why I would do something like this?’

  A few voices from the back called out ‘Too right’ and ‘Fuckin’ oath’.

  Gary nodded. ‘Well,’ he said, spreading his hands, ‘let me tell you a story.’

  As he said the words, Lou felt the room relax. This was more like it. They knew her father’s stories almost as well as she did. And they wanted him to make sense of this for them; to explain what he was thinking.

  Gary drummed his fingers on the lectern, like he was preaching a sermon. ‘When I was a kid, growing up in the hills behind the Mountain –’

  Most people knew Gary’s history. The hilltowns were poor territory, where a few dirt farmers scratched out a living on tiny plots. Their kids were scraggly and undernourished, and the place was full of people who had escaped to self-sufficiency from someplace where life wasn’t working for them. They were, overall, off the radar and on the bottle. The folks of Stone Mountain didn’t have much to do with the hills folks, and their collection of raggedy little villages, but they liked that their clever, charming mayor grew up poor and prospect-less in a place they understood.

  ‘I used to go out hunting, with my pa, when I was real small.’

  Lou had never met her paternal grandfather, and she had believed her father when he’d told her it was for the best. Sounded like he’d been a real arsehole.

  Gary took a breath, and seemed to be collecting himself. ‘One day, I found this little rabbit. He’d been hurt.’ His tone had changed – his accent was broader than usual, and his cadence slower. Lou knew this sometimes happened when he talked about his childhood, almost like he was dropping back into that time and place.

  ‘I wanted to take him home, take care of him.’ He shrugged. ‘He was hurt pretty bad, but there was no-one to tell me no. And there was no-one to tell me how to look after the little thing. I tried.’ He shrugged again, this time like he was trying to shake something off. ‘I washed him up and fed him.’ He met Lou’s eyes like he was trying to say something only to her.

  Lou tried to reassure him with her eyes: We’re listening, Dad.

  ‘But he was never going to survive. No-one told me, no-one was there to guide me. And no-one helped me either. My ma and pa didn’t care; they thought it was funny. Funny little Gary with his sick rabbit.’

  Her father’s tone was so engaging, Lou knew everyone in the room could see the dirty little boy he had been. And they were listening, hanging on his words.

  ‘In the end, Bugs – that’s what I called him – well, he died slow and painful, in front of me. I wanted to save him. I thought I could, if I could just look after him right.’ He raised his hands in a gesture of appeal, and Lou felt the room lean in to him. She wished she could go and stand beside him, put her arm around him, and the boy he had been.

  ‘And then, when I wanted them to put him down, they wouldn’t. Said it was a waste of ammo. And I couldn’t do it, of course. So I just watched the little thing die.’

  Gary shook his head. His eyes pierced the room, daring anyone to doubt his bona fides. ‘You know me. You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought there was another way. The fact is, Stone Mountain needs this money. Council needs to do this deal to keep afloat, and to provide all the things this town needs to survive and thrive. I’ve done the maths.’ He glanced quickly over at Lou, and the stares of a hundred hateful townsfolk descended on her. ‘We need to do this deal, and this is our only option.’

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture as a chorus of angry murmurs gathered strength. ‘As mayor, my job is to balance what we all need; weigh it up against our various interests. This drought has gone on a long time. Right now, our community is completely subject to the whims of Mother Nature. I want to take us beyond that; I want to give us a fighting chance.’

  As he sat down, few people clapped, but at least no-one booed again, or did anything worse. Lou’s shoulders started to unclench. Soon it would all be over.

  Matt was up next, and she felt the town tune in.

  Matt Finlay had been a big deal back in the day – a star footy player and an all-round golden boy. They loved that he had married a local girl, had even been able to forgive his defection to the city, given that he appeared to have gone off and become important and successful. There was nothing they loved more than a local boy made good. It warmed their hearts.

  ‘You all know me,’ Matt boomed.

  ‘Not as well as our sisters,’ a wise-cracker yelled from the back row.

  Matt ate it up. ‘Very funny, Davo.’ He grinned at the offender. ‘I’m a changed man.’

  ‘Change your girlfriends more often than your underwear, you mean,’ the voice hooted back.

  Lou wanted to punch someone, preferably Matt, but she needed him to help them tonight, so she had to play nice. She comprehensively zoned out for the next ten minutes while Matt Finlay played the room. She barely took in anything he said – something about jobs, and progress, and gas not getting in the way of farming. Instead of the words, she registered the smooth way he worked his audience.

  For every heckler, he had good-natured banter.

  For every objection, he had a reasoned answer.

  When it was over, the room was thoroughly seduced, just like poor Sharni had been her whole life. Lou had no doubt once the formal meeting ended, Matt would be shouti
ng drinks at the public bar, thumping backs and declaring it was ‘just business’. While her father would be ruined.

  When Gary asked the representative of Clean Gas if he felt the need to say any words, he shook his head, his careful smile telling Lou that he felt Matt had earned whatever take he was getting from this deal.

  Then it was Brian Buchanan’s turn. The head of the Cattlemen’s Association stood, his face going even redder as he lumbered over to the mike. Brian was a popular local farmer whose land had been in his family’s hands as long as records existed. But public speaking was not his strong suit. He flapped a wad of papers, telling the group that they detailed the objections of the local farming community to the proposals. Then he tried to explain a few of the more critical concerns of the group, but lost most of the audience at ‘fracking’ and ‘water tables’. Lou felt sick as she watched him flail to make his points, and shut her eyes against the agony of it.

  Finally, it was over and Brian sat down, looking like he was going to be investing in a stiff drink once the meeting was over.

  The mayor stood again, looking, if not relieved, at least glad proceedings were almost at a close, but there was no triumph on his face. Lou could read the long lines of disappointment in the way he held himself. This had been a dark victory.

  He asked the group if anyone wished to say final words, and Lou was sure there would be at least one or two souls brave or angry enough to have a go, despite Matt’s best efforts at seduction. She turned, like the rest of the room, to see if anyone was making moves to stand, and her breath jammed in her throat as she watched Gage stand from his seat and make his way to the lectern.

  All the eyes in the room were on him as he sauntered up, taking his own sweet time, as though he knew that everyone in the room just liked looking at him. Which they definitely did, but Lou doubted he realised it.

  By the time he reached the lectern and faced the crowd, the expectation was so thick Lou was sure she could smell it. She had no idea what he was doing. Gage didn’t do public speaking. He didn’t do much speaking, full stop.