‘Or Barney,’ she said sniffling as she patted the heavily panting dog.
‘Or Barney.’
Suddenly the lights went out and Jade knew the power lines were gone. She had to get them out the house, and fast. It was dangerous out on the road but if they stayed in their home, they didn’t stand a chance. She took towels and wet them in the bath.
‘Wrap these towels over your faces. We’ve got to leave now. Barbara, you hold the dog so he doesn’t run away and I’ll look after the kids.’
‘Are you sure we should leave?’ Mrs Miller asked desperately.
‘Yes.’ Jade kept her voice steady as she covered the kids in wet towels and helped them and their grandparents into the car.
‘Chris, can you drive them to the school?’
‘What about you? Are you coming?’
Jade shook her head. ‘I’m going to stay and fight.’
‘Jade, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The fires are coming from every side.’
‘I have to do everything I can to save our property. It’s not just our home; it’s our livelihood. Without it, we have nothing. And if our land goes, so will yours. It’s our best chance. But you need to leave right now.’
He jumped in and suddenly Sarah was screaming again. ‘You’ll be fine, sweetheart,’ Jade assured her.
She watched them drive into the street, hoping like hell they would be okay. Jade could feel heat intensifying behind her and she turned to see that in the few minutes they had been at the car, the Millers’ house, which was only 100 metres away, had fully caught alight. She jumped back on her tractor and raced to her property, afraid to see what had become of it.
When she got there, the roof sprinklers had stopped and the power had gone out. She grabbed the hose, connected it to the generator and started to pump water. The smoke had become so intense that it turned everything black like night. She raced inside through the back of the house and then froze; nausea rose in her throat as she saw embers making their way under the front door. She started to pour the buckets of water on the embers but more appeared and soon the house began to fill with smoke.
Smoke alarms wailed. Glass exploded. The floor steamed and her feet felt like they were blistering through her boots.
It was only now that it occurred to Jade that she might not live, that her home, her land – this land that meant so much to her grandmother, to her father, to her mother, to her – would not survive. She knew that staying was what her mother would have done, and suddenly Jade felt foolish for thinking that she could somehow prove her worth to her mother by this one act.
But now it was too late to escape the inferno. The smoke so was thick that Jade was starving for air. Knowing that she would die if she stayed in the house, Jade crawled out, breathing into two wet towels, and saw giant red embers raining onto the paddock.
She threw one of the towels over her back and crawled over to the roses, staying low. She looked back at the house one last time, catching her reflection in the steamed glass. Her hair looked like a flame in the red light, her eyes a sparkling green – the colour disappearing all around her.
When she passed the fence, she stood straighter and ran. She didn’t turn back again. She didn’t want to see her house in this awful shade of ruby and yellow. Jade couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. A blinding terror of being completely alone gripped her body. Everything told her to run from the burning trees and onto the road, but she didn’t know which direction the fire was coming from. A force inside her guided her deeper into the bush toward the creek.
The ferocity of the wind picked up and Jade heard something explode behind her, but she didn’t turn back. Her legs moved at an impossible speed. She was exhausted and out of breath by the time she reached the embankment of the creek, which had been a swimming spot for her family since she was a child. On one side of the creek rose a rocky escarpment that she hoped might shield her from the embers. She peered down at the orange and red glow on the water’s surface, hoping it was deep enough for her to plunge into. She stood on the ridge staring down at the ripples below as the fire’s heat blistered her skin.
She had no choice. Shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath, she jumped.
5
COURTNEY walked through the gallery and felt a rush of excitement as she saw all her hard work taking shape. The once empty walls were now filled with Gabriela Fresca’s enthralling artworks. Sculptures of lovers in flight, charcoal nudes, painted landscapes in muted colours and a series of bright self-portraits. Her work was so varied that it was impossible to think they had all been created by the same artist. Each seemed like a technique that had been mastered over a lifetime.
Courtney felt a sense of pride as she looked around the exhibition. She had taken an enormous risk with Gabriela, as a new artist, but when Courtney scanned the walls she had no doubt that the exhibition would be well received. She spotted Gabriela standing in front of one of her surrealist paintings. The artist was breathtakingly beautiful. She was short and petite, with dark tanned skin and long burgundy hair. She wore no make-up and her eyes were a deep shade of amber. She made eye contact unflinchingly, as if she had nothing to hide. She was dressed in a loose white linen dress and walked barefoot.
Gabriela turned now towards Courtney, her hair falling messily out of a bun. The artist said nothing. Courtney already knew that Gabriela didn’t shy away from uncomfortable silences; in fact, Courtney got the feeling that she relished them.
‘Are you happy with the placement of your works?’
‘Seeing my art up on these walls is much more rewarding than I had ever imagined,’ Gabriela said in her Spanish-accented voice. ‘It makes me realise that I would be empty without a canvas, paint, a brush and pencil. They are like the ingredients of my soul.’
Courtney smiled, pleased to see her happy. Gabriela always spoke poetically and had a way of drawing people in and sparking their curiosity. ‘Thank you, Courtney, for giving my work a chance.’
Amy’s heels tapped loudly on the tiles as she walked towards them. ‘Courts, it’s your husband on the phone. He’s waiting in the car outside with Matthew.’
‘Thanks, Amy,’ Courtney said as she glanced at the clock on the gallery wall: 11 am. Where did the time go and what was she thinking last night when she polished off a bottle of prosecco all to herself while David got stuck into a bottle of Black Label whisky?
She said goodbye to Gabriela and left feeling inspired and full of the exhilaration for the exhibition opening.
‘You have fun,’ Amy said, winking.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Courtney laughed. ‘Matthew’s with us and it’s going to be a fishing weekend, or so I’m told.’
Amy crossed her arms. ‘With that cute husband of yours, I don’t think so.’
‘Hey, keep your eyes on the art,’ Courtney joked.
She gathered her things, looking around the gallery for a final check that everything was progressing well for the exhibition’s official opening in two weeks.
‘Just go already,’ Amy laughed.
As Courtney walked out of the gallery and spotted David sitting in the car across the road, she thought back to last night’s innocent debauchery. Even though it was a weeknight, they had let Matthew sleep over at Dean’s. It was rare that David and Courtney were left alone, so they decided to make a night of it. David rustled up a delicious dinner and Courtney had poured their respective drinks of choice. It began as a very ordinary evening, but before long they were tipsy, then drunk and full of passion. Lying in bed after, still drunk, David turned to her. ‘Let’s do something impulsive,’ he said, rubbing her back.
Courtney could smell the liquor on his breath and it took her back to their university days when they’d fall into the single bed in his dorm room and watch the fan spin and the white sheets lift as they lay underneath them.
‘Like what?’ she asked, knowing that her impulsive spirit had left her when she had Matthew.
‘Let’s go some
where.’ His voice was edged with the same youthful idealism he’d had back then.
‘Like where and when?’
‘Key West,’ he replied without much thought.
A weekend away was a tantalising thought but it would have to wait until after the exhibition. ‘God, we haven’t been there in, what, six years?’
‘Well, what do you think?’
Courtney rolled over to face him, and pulled the sheets across her chest. ‘I guess.’
‘You guess? Come on, we’re going,’ he said, getting out of bed and taking his laptop from his briefcase. He laid it on the bed and she watched his face transform with enthusiasm as he typed. A few minutes later, he made a deliberately large gesture pressing the ‘Enter’ button. ‘Done,’ he announced.
‘Did you find a hotel?’
‘Nope,’ he said, opening the window to let some night air into the room. ‘I booked us two nights on a yacht.’
‘When for?’ She had always loved David’s assuredness – it was that confidence she’d initially been attracted to. Of course, his good looks had helped. At university, girls vied for his attention and even her friends had passed the odd comment about how handsome he was. But David seemed completely unaware of the effect he had on women.
She watched him standing at the windowsill as light snuck into the room through a break in the curtain. He was stark naked. The dark hair on his chest, shaped almost like a heart with no sharp edges, snaked its way down to his stomach in a thin line. He’d lost much of his strong physique that defined his university days when he played representative soccer, but he had a natural definition to his wide chest and narrow torso that made him look like he worked out, even though he rarely did. On the weekends he left his hair unruly and free but on workdays he ran some gel through it so it was subtly sideswept.
He turned to her, his eyes widening. ‘I booked for tomorrow.’
The thought of doing something so out of her organised schedule would usually make her anxious and flatten her reply into a straight ‘no’, but the alcohol swirled in her body. She stood up, taking her cream gown off the hanger on the back of the bathroom door. ‘It’s two weeks before the exhibition opens, and how can Matthew miss a Friday of school, not to mention a soccer game on Saturday?’
‘Matthew can have a “sick day”, and so can you. And plus, Matthew has a bye this weekend. I’ve thought it all through.’ He grinned as he stepped towards her, pulling the loose strings of her gown to him so that she fell back onto the bed. He ran his hands under her gown and kissed her. She found herself softening. ‘A yacht,’ she said finally, her lips parting into a smile.
‘Don’t expect a yacht as such. It’s more like someone’s boat berthed at the marina,’ David laughed. ‘But it was the only place available and, besides, we’ll definitely have a room with a view.’
David had forgotten how breathtaking the drive to Key West was. They passed luxury waterfront homes, with men and women sunbaking while their children played along the embankment. Then they drove over Seven Mile Bridge and David admired the endless blue abyss of ocean on both sides. He could hear the waves tussle and crash, and his eyes skimmed the surface long enough to see white froth on the tips of the water.
David flicked on the cruise control as he hit the speed limit and relaxed back into his seat. Courtney was gazing mindlessly out the window, the light catching the auburn streaks in her hair. They sorely needed a break. It was so easy to fall into routine dictated by work. David had never imagined he would be that guy, the one who worked the kind of hours that didn’t leave room for a morning swim, or a lazy afternoon latte at Coconut Grove. But it was a small price to pay for building up one of the best ophthalmology practices in Miami. He’d always worked hard. He knew nothing in life was free and you didn’t get ahead by waiting for things to happen.
‘Mom,’ Matthew mumbled, wiping dribble from his cheek as he woke from a nap in the back seat. ‘I need to go.’
‘How long can you wait, Matty?’ David asked, hoping to still make good time to Key West.
‘Not long,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m busting.’
David glanced at his son in the rear-view mirror, noticing the discomfort in his face. He laughed at how readable his expressions were. Matthew’s hair fell forward over his forehead, where frown lines crossed his pale skin. ‘Okay, then,’ David said, making a sharp left turn.
They idled down a sandy road as it snaked under the highway to an unkempt patch of beach. ‘I’ll take him,’ David offered, unbuckling his seatbelt.
Courtney smiled and he leaned forward to kiss her before he stepped out of the car. She saw Matthew grab his prized Manchester United soccer ball and she knew this wasn’t going to be a quick stop. ‘You need the ball, do you?’ Courtney said, catching him sneaking it out.
‘Just one round of keep-ups, Mom, I swear.’
David winked. ‘You heard the boy – one round.’
Courtney was unimpressed. ‘That always means at least three.’
David nudged Matthew. ‘Nice one. Three rounds it is.’
They made their way down the beach to where it twisted out of view from the highway. The beach was deserted. The coarse sand had spots of foliage growing awkwardly in places. Litter had washed up on the shoreline and there were stray tissues wedged in the sand – clearly they weren’t the first to make the bathroom break. ‘Okay,’ David announced, ‘pick your spot.’
Matthew ambled over, his big shorts draping awkwardly over his stick-thin legs. While he ducked below the bush, David picked up a dry rope and dropped it straightaway when bits of moss clung to his fingers.
‘Hey, Dad,’ Matthew said, emerging, ‘look what I found.’ He held out an old glass bottle. The colour had faded so that it was translucent blue with a coppery hue around the edges.
‘I could fill it with sand and give it to Mom for the kitchen bench,’ he said, holding it up so the sunlight caught it in a shade of silver and navy.
‘Sorry, Matty, I think it’s best to leave it. You don’t know what’s lurking inside it,’ David said, thinking how much he sounded like an old university professor he once had.
‘Dad, come on. It’s a bottle,’ he replied but then, taking his cue from his father’s unchanged expression, he didn’t protest further. ‘Okay, round one,’ Matthew said as he carelessly dropped the bottle. He flicked the ball up with his shoe and volleyed it from right to left foot, occasionally using his head and chest.
David counted. ‘Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.’ Matthew had one huge advantage over David in their daily game of keep-ups – his left foot handled the ball just as well as his right. David’s left foot never did what he wanted it to. ‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight.’ Matthew flicked the ball up with his right foot and moved to collect it with his left. He took a dive, lost his balance and fell directly onto the bottle he’d discarded, his shin smashing it beneath him.
The moment David saw the drops of blood spread over the glass fragments in his son’s skin, the doctor in him took over. He lifted the boy off the broken glass gently in one swift motion, while Matthew looked up, too stunned to react. The shock of the fall hadn’t yet set in, but David could tell he was putting on a brave face. David laid him delicately on the sand and removed a bit of glass still lodged in his skin. It was the same leg he had scratched with a bicycle spoke the previous week. The wound wasn’t too deep, so David was sure he could take care of it easily.
‘Ouch, it hurts,’ Matthew whimpered.
‘I know, buddy, but you’re brave, right, like your dad?’ David wiped his son’s hair out of his face.
Matthew offered a meek nod, but his eyes remained gripped by the spurts of blood that fell down his leg.
‘Wait, my ball,’ Matthew said. David went back for the ball then held Matthew’s hand when he insisted on walking to the car.
‘You’ll be okay,’ David said.
Courtney was out of the car within seconds of catching sight of them. ‘What happened?’ she y
elled as she ran towards them. ‘Oh, my baby,’ she said, kissing Matthew’s now damp forehead. ‘What happened?’
At the sight of his mother, the brave face he’d put on fell away. ‘I was,’ he gasped, ‘playing keep-ups and I fell onto a bottle.’ She rubbed his back in a circular motion like she had when he was a baby with croup.
‘You’re not having any luck lately, are you, my sweet?’
He shook his head.
Now her eyes caught David’s. ‘Will he need stitches?’
‘No,’ David said. ‘It should be all right with steri-strips after I disinfect the wound.’
‘Maybe we should go home and take him to a doctor.’
‘No!’ Matthew protested, wiping his tears with the edge of his T-shirt. ‘I’m fine.’
When Courtney gave him a look that said nice try, he persisted, ‘I promise, it’s just a little cut. I don’t want to go back. And plus, it’s a school day, so,’ he started to tear up again, ‘can’t we still go?’
Courtney glanced at David. ‘Are you sure he shouldn’t see a doctor?’
Matthew looked to David to intervene. ‘Dad’s a doctor.’
‘Well, actually,’ David said, already formulating a plan, ‘from memory, there is a pharmacy near here and we can stop to buy antiseptic and steri-strips. It’s a clean cut. I’ll just keep a close eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected.’
‘Are you sure?’ Courtney asked again.
‘As sure as I was the night I stitched you up,’ he said and smiled, trying to soften her rising anxiety.
David could tell she was momentarily reliving their memory of the time he had performed impromptu stitches on her when he was in fourth year of med school. He had taken Courtney out on a date. A friend had loaned David a motorbike and two helmets for the night, and he’d borrowed a leather jacket to look the part. As they rode to the drive-in cinema Courtney gripped his sides so tightly he thought she’d rip a hole through the jacket.
The Ties That Bind Page 4
