Whispers At Wongan Creek

by Juanita Kees

  ‘I’m not sure Elliott would like you saying he’s pretty,’ replied Travis, his gut squeezing at the thought of Heather.

  ‘Who’s Elliott?’

  ‘Heather’s replacement.’ Travis picked up Harry’s bag and watched the nurse help him into a wheelchair. He followed them out into the hallway as she wheeled him to the lift.

  ‘Who’s Heather?’

  ‘The pretty little social worker.’ He stabbed the elevator button a little harder than intended.

  ‘I thought she was Eileen, you know. You shoulda asked her to marry you.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Harry.’

  ‘Is that what’s got your Y-fronts in a knot? She turned you down?’

  The nurse giggled as she wheeled him into the elevator.

  Travis grimaced. ‘Something like that.’

  He wondered if he’d ever stop hurting. It had been over a week since she’d left town. A week of fielding questions from Casey, frowns from the ladies at the CWA and the occasional casserole showing up on his doorstep.

  At least Robbie had brought home a stray kitten that kept Casey occupied until bed time when she’d ask for the story Heather used to read. It was damn hard for a man to keep it together sometimes.

  ‘Hey, Travis?’ Harry’s voice interrupted his thoughts as the elevator stopped with a bump and the doors swished open.

  ‘Yeah, mate?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking …’

  ‘That’s dangerous.’

  ‘Smart arse. You know how Bannister wants to buy my land?’

  Travis’ heart missed a beat. ‘You’re not thinking of selling out, are you?’

  ‘Do I look like a fool?’

  ‘With a bright green cast on your arm and a moon boot on your foot, you want me to answer that question?’

  ‘That’s what made me think. What if we build a seniors’ lifestyle village on my land? You know, for the ageing population of Wongan Creek since that bloody gold mine seems set to stay around for a while. We can do a bowling green, a pool and a gym. Some of those cottages where you can still be independent but help is on hand if you need it. Then I can stay and still see the sun rise over the creek.’

  Travis thought about it as they walked towards the ute. ‘That’s not a silly idea, Harry. I’d rather have an old age home next door than a gold mine or a housing estate.’

  ‘Lifestyle village,’ Harry grumbled. ‘You could lease out your land to the village and start a hobby farm. The residents can potter around in it. Start a Grower’s Market.’

  ‘Now we’re talking. I’d support a Grower’s Market and we might as well put the land to good use. We can look at what else would grow well with the canola crop so we don’t cross-contaminate. I’m liking the concept more and more, you clever old bugger. Why don’t we run it by Doc Benson when we get home?’

  Travis opened the ute door and helped Harry inside. He’d been thinking about what to do with the empty paddocks not filled with canola ever since he’d sold the cattle, but with raising Casey and taking care of Harry he’d had enough to juggle. Harry’s suggestion opened up a whole string of possibilities.

  ‘We’ll talk more about it on the way.’

  If he could keep Harry’s mind focused on the topic for long enough, he might remember it when they got home. The more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him. Maybe it would keep his mind off the one perfect person to run the facility.

  ***

  Heather fiddled with the zipper on her purse and tapped her foot nervously. She hated hospitals and waiting rooms. The smell of antiseptic and old magazines set her nerves on edge. They reminded her too much of the hours spent in and out of hospital with Mum.

  At least the blood tests were done. Waiting for the results was the killer. Visiting Harry when he’d been recovering in hospital had made her realise the need to get her own affairs in order. She had no family to care for her. Still, she’d need a will to leave the little bit she had to a charity if the DNA tests proved positive for the mistake in the gene code that caused MND.

  Over the last week, she’d been prodded and poked, attached to electrodes and had her muscle responses recorded, and transcranial magnetic stimulation to measure the activity of the upper motor neurones in her brain. And now the wait for all those results so she could take charge of her own destiny. The specialist had warned that the chances were high given the severe case her mother had.

  ‘Miss Penney?’

  Heather looked up at the receptionist. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mr Loudon will see you now.’

  Heather’s heart pounded as she stood. God, she wished Travis was here now. That she’d said yes to him coming with her. That she hadn’t walked out on him a month ago. She missed him and Casey so much. The stars in the city were dimmer and the night sounds were nothing like the bush. She’d much rather listen to the chirping of cicadas than the constant whine of sirens.

  She walked up the stark white hallway with its fluorescent lights and blue and red patterned carpet, her footfalls soundless. With a quick knock, she pushed open the door.

  Perry Loudon smiled warmly at her. His wispy grey hair, round cheeks and frameless glasses made him look like a kindly professor from a fairytale movie, a wizard with the power to make or break her dreams.

  ‘Come in, my dear.’

  Heather closed the door behind her and clutched her purse tightly to stop her hands from shaking. She smiled weakly at him as he invited her to sit. Her mind raced with the possibilities of the outcome of this appointment. The things she’d have to arrange if the results were positive, the life she could rebuild if they were negative. She couldn’t allow herself to hope just yet. Since meeting Travis and Casey she had reason to hope because her life without them was miserable.

  ‘How have you been? I hope all those tests weren’t too stressful for you?’

  ‘A little scary. I’m glad they’re over,’ Heather admitted.

  Being hooked up to the machines had terrified her, but sitting alone in the waiting rooms preparing to take the tests had scared her the most. That was when she’d wished she’d had someone to hold her hand through this journey.

  ‘I’m sure you are. Well, I’ll get straight to the point then. You’ll be pleased to know that the TMS scans came back normal. The MRI was all clear. Now, that doesn’t diagnose MND, but we do like to check for any pre-symptom damage just to make sure.’

  Heather let out a little sigh of relief, although her fingers were white from the pressure of clenching them. ‘So that’s good, right?’

  ‘Very good. The nerve conduction study and Electromyography results were equally as pleasing. Your nerves and muscles are all reacting normally. Very well indeed. So that rules out any premature muscle and nerve degeneration.’

  Knowing the studies were all clear was comforting but it was the blood test results she feared the most. They were the ones that counted. She placed a hand on her tummy to try and still the churning.

  Mr Loudon smiled kindly at her. ‘I know this is hard for you, my dear. We’re almost there. Now the blood tests … these are what you’re waiting for. I’m very pleased to tell you that this round of tests came back absolutely clear. They ruled out the mutated gene completely. You do not carry it and therefore you cannot pass it on to your children.’

  Relief flooded her body and mind, followed by not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Heather did both as Mr Loudon handed her the tissue box. The months—no, years—of waiting, wondering, worrying were over. The life she never thought she’d have now stretched emptily ahead of her. She had a chance to change that.

  ‘It’s quite okay to cry, my dear. As long as they’re tears of happiness.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I’m very pleased with the outcome. Not many people are given a second chance when it comes to genetic illnesses. Now, I hope you’ll go on to make the best of life, my dear. We only get one go at it. And if you ever have any concerns again, please be sure to consult yo
ur GP. I’m certain you won’t need to.’

  Heather paid her bill, her mind still spinning with what could be, and left the specialist’s rooms. She was free, but all she felt was relief. She had a future, a long one. So where was the elation to fill the emptiness in her heart? She got into her car and drove home, stopping along the way to pick up a bottle of champagne. Maybe when the good news penetrated the fog she’d lived in since leaving Wongan Creek, she’d be in the mood to celebrate.

  An hour later, the champagne flute filled with bubbles and a plate of cheese and crackers in front of her, the people she wanted to share her good news with were almost two hundred kilometres away. Her two-bedroom rented apartment with a view of the city echoed with the fizz of bubbles going flat in the glass while her unpacked boxes taunted her from their lonely corner.

  Chapter 22

  Harry peeled back the dusty lid of a weather-beaten storage box and Travis coughed.

  ‘Jesus, Harry. There are more moths in here than in your wallet. Apparently you open this box almost as often.’

  ‘Smart arse,’ grumbled Harry. He picked up a battered red folder and opened it. ‘The title deeds to Murchison’s Run. You and Doc Benson are the only two I trust with them.’

  Travis took the folder from Harry’s unsteady hand and patted the old man’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing the right thing, mate. It’s the perfect solution to keep you on your land. The town council love the idea. This will be the perfect tree change for retirees.’

  Harry stared into the box and frowned. Reaching back into it, he pulled out a fat yellow envelope. He lifted the flap, his fingers tapping the paper inside. ‘What’s this then?’

  Doc Benson stepped forward and peered at the envelope. He chuckled. ‘Come on, Harry. You know what that is. We looked at it together about six months ago. Go on, have another read to refresh your memory.’

  Harry pulled out the contents and two photographs fluttered to the floor. Travis leaned down and picked them up. ‘Who is this, mate? An old flame?’ He held out a sepia photograph of a pretty young woman for Harry to see while he studied the other one of the same woman holding a toddler in a frilly dress.

  Silence fell in the dusty shed as Harry read the letters in the envelope. He stroked a finger across the flowing writing on the powder blue paper and sighed. ‘Eileen.’

  Travis looked at Doc and raised his eyebrows. Doc grinned. ‘Harry’s little secret. I couldn’t say anything before—patient confidentiality—but I think now you’re officially Harry’s guardian, you need to know that there is another stakeholder in the lifestyle village development.’

  Harry held out the letter to Travis. ‘You’d better read it, son.’

  Travis read, but the words blurred as he struggled to take it all in. He turned over the photograph attached to the paper with a rusty paperclip, a colour print of a young girl holding a baby girl. His heart pounded in his chest as eyes the colour of hot chocolate stared back at him. ‘Far out, Harry. And you let her walk away?’

  ‘I had to. I gave her the opportunity to come back and she chose to walk away instead.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Eileen.’ His heart pounded as reality set in. He’d heard some bizarre tales of lost love in his time, but Harry’s was a stretch of fate he was struggling to comprehend. And it had struck twice in the same place causing loss and broken hearts.

  Doc put a hand on Travis’ shoulder. ‘Easy there, lad. It’s taken us years to piece this jigsaw together ourselves. Eileen passed on about five years after they arrived back in Ireland. We had trouble finding her daughter—Harry’s daughter—because she’d changed her name by deed poll. Unravelling fifty odd years of red tape and sealed records is quite a challenge, but we got there six months ago.’

  Travis shook his head. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you tell her?’ he asked his old mate.

  Harry sighed. ‘I thought I did.’

  ‘How did she end up in Wongan Creek?’

  Doc Benson took the letter from his hands, folded it and pushed it back into the envelope. ‘I worked closely with Elliott to have Heather fill the position so she could be close to Harry but I didn’t want to take any chances with his health or his property. You can’t trust anyone these days, so I needed to make sure she was the real deal and wouldn’t take advantage of him.’

  Travis raked his hands through his hair. ‘She was the real deal.’

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  ‘And we let her walk away.’

  ‘Heather had her own demons to face, son. You know that. It didn’t seem fair to lay this on her until she had. She needed time to sort things out.’

  ‘How long?’ Travis wanted to get in the car and bring her home right away. If not for his own sake, then for Harry’s.

  ‘She told you about the MND?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As soon as the report from her specialist lands on my desk, I’ll be contacting her. We need her name and signature on the title deeds for Murchison Run Lifestyle Village. Then the CWA will contact her with an offer to run it.’ Doc grinned.

  ‘She doesn’t want to be a burden, Doc. She made that quite clear.’

  ‘None of us do. But she deserves to know the truth and this way there will be enough money to take care of any medical expenses if she needs it.’

  Travis would rather take care of her himself. Every moment she was away, he missed her more. Every second he waited was another shaved off the time they could be spending together. ‘What if she doesn’t want to come back?’

  ‘Then I guess you’ll be the one who will need to give her good reason to.’ Harry pulled the lid back on the box. ‘It’s about time you put that charm to good use.’

  The old school oval was alive with the annual Wongan Creek Rodeo activities as Travis pulled into the grounds and parked his ute next to Elliott’s four-wheel drive. The town council had delayed the rodeo until the police investigation was wrapped up and the media attention linked to Zac’s case had died down.

  Travis smiled. It didn’t look like Elliott was in any hurry to leave Wongan Creek and if the whispers were true, he and Janet might just have a budding romance on the go. So far, his quest to fill Heather’s position remained fruitless. The ladies of the CWA had very quickly stepped in and voted against Martha Wallace returning to the community. Apparently they didn’t need any more dragons in town. Miss Turner was quite content to hold onto the title.

  ‘Look, Uncle Trav! They have a merry-go-round and everything.’ Casey’s excitement was barely contained as he opened her door to let her out of the ute.

  The air around them was filled with the delicious smells of sausage sizzles, hot beef rolls and hamburgers, except when you stood downwind and got a whiff of the steers, horses and pop up animal farm for the kids. Travis wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Come on then, we’ll go find Benji and see if he wants to spend some time down Sideshow Alley.’

  She held his hand tightly and led him through the market stalls. The ladies had outdone themselves this year. He could tell that, come the end of the day, the back of the ute would be full of home-baked pies and cakes. And no doubt, Casey could be tempted by the quilted princess bedspread the ladies at the quilting society had made.

  He was glad the threat of runaway mickies had been removed when John Bannister sponsored some decent fencing to keep them contained to the arena. The need to have the markets at the Town Hall had been eliminated and they were back in the thick of activity where they belonged.

  ‘There’s Harry and Mrs Everett.’

  Mrs E, bless her, had picked Harry up in the bus along with some of the other seniors. Harry’s idea for a lifestyle village had been a hit with the town council and planning for the facility had begun. So the CWA was doing a trial run of activities to be rolled out as soon as the facility opened.

  ‘Travis.’

  John Bannister put a hand out to stop them as they walked past the Wongan Creek Mining market stall. Behind him the advertising ban
ners all carried a white ribbon to show support for victims of domestic violence. In the past, Travis might have thought it an empty show of support to boost the Bannister profile as a community player and gain popularity votes, but the outcome of the gruesome find in the pit out in the bush had changed that.

  It looked like the man had aged a hundred years in the last weeks. Gone was the cocky businessman and in his place a broken old man who’d lost everything, including his pride. The downward slope of his shoulders and the extra lines etched into his face showed the scandal over Zac’s arrest had hit him hard.

  ‘Bannister.’

  ‘I want you to know that Harry’s development has my full approval and financial backing if he wants it. I won’t stand in his way.’ He kept his eyes downcast, shaded by his wide-brimmed hat.

  ‘That’s good of you. I’m sure Harry will appreciate it.’

  ‘I owe it to him after what happened with Eileen. It’s time to bury the old hatchet. And for what it’s worth, son, I’m really sorry about what happened to young Tracy. I should have paid more attention to what was going on. I’ve set up a trust fund for the little one. You’ll receive the details from my lawyers soon.’

  ‘We don’t need your money.’

  ‘I know, but it’s only fair. I won’t fight the adoption either, but I would like to see her from time to time. She is my great granddaughter, after all.’

  Travis held out his hand. ‘I’m sure we can arrange visitation under supervision.’

  After a small hesitation, John Bannister shook Travis’ hand. ‘Thank you.’

  With a smile, Travis patted the old man’s shoulder then followed Casey down the row of stalls. Elliott called out to him.

  ‘Hey, Travis!’

  ‘Elliott.’ He eyed Janet’s apron tied around Elliott’s waist with amusement. ‘I must say, you’re fitting in well here. Pink roses suit you.’

  ‘Very funny. Hey, have you heard from Heather lately?’

  The mere mention of her name had his heart beating like a drum that echoed the emptiness of it. He missed her so much he was still considering a trip to Perth to find her and bring her home kicking and screaming if he had to, but Doc Benson had told him to wait a little longer and give her some space.