Harry tried to swallow. He still couldn’t speak.
‘I’m a bloody idiot, Harry. Mum and I raised both of you kids to be independent, but my stupid pride and frustration in my own failures got in the way of letting you live the life you wanted.’
‘I could never be a farmer, Dad. It might be in your DNA, but it’s not in mine. Music is.’
Jim nodded slowly. ‘I know. Your mum’s been telling me that for years. I know farming’s not in your blood. I’ve always known that. And now it’s too late.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘The farm. It’ll have to be sold before I go.’
Harry frowned. ‘Why? Why can’t you give it to Sime and Claire? They’d be much better at running it than me.’
Jim studied his hands. ‘I guess. Simon’s a top bloke and he knows what he’s doing.’
‘So does Claire.’ His sister had an Ag-Science degree and a passion for the land. She was the obvious choice. As far as Harry was concerned, problem solved.
‘But she’s a girl. The farm always goes to the son. It wouldn’t be fair to you.’
Harry widened his eyes. ‘Come on Dad, you can’t be serious. That’s actually unfair on Claire. I don’t want the farm. She does. Leaving the farm to the son might have been a customary part of succession planning in the past, but surely you should leave it to the child best suited regardless of their gender.’
Jim scratched his jaw. ‘I guess maybe I’ve been a bit old-fashioned in my thinking. And I suppose you’re right: Claire is a better farmer than you any day of the week.’
Harry chuckled. ‘Always has been. You know me, I barely know one end of a cow from the other.’ It wasn’t strictly true, but he needed to say something to lighten the mood between them.
Jim sighed heavily. ‘You know the saying though: “Old McDonald had a farm and his children had a fight”.’
‘I promise I’m not going to fight with my sister over Thornhill.’
‘But when I die, what will I give you if I don’t leave you the farm?’
‘You don’t need to give me anything,’ Harry retorted.
Jim’s face fell and Harry immediately regretted his forceful tone.
‘Seriously, Dad, I don’t need anything. I just want the memories.’
They sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts for a long time.
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’ Harry finally spoke.
Jim’s eyes widened. ‘Sorry? What for? You don’t need to be sorry. I made the mistakes, not you.’
Emotion clogged Harry’s throat. ‘I’m just as much to blame. I’m sorry I let so much distance come between us, Dad.’ He hesitated, suddenly feeling awkward and vulnerable. He’d never spoken this way to his father. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner about how hurt I was that you never showed an interest in my career. But it’s not too late. We’ve still got time.’
Jim was quiet for a long time. ‘Thing is, we don’t have much time.’ He exhaled heavily. ‘I love you, son, and I should have told you that a long time ago.’
Harry took his father’s hand and squeezed his fingers gently before replying. ‘I love you too, Dad.’ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those words.
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah?’
‘One more thing.’
Harry waited.
‘Don’t let me die in this place.’
Harry’s heart thundered in his chest. ‘It’s too early to talk about that, Dad.’
‘No it’s not. I want to have a say before this illness takes away my speech too.’ Jim’s eyes misted over.
‘Okay.’ Harry squeezed his hand. ‘We’ll talk about it. But not today. Not yet. Let’s get through Mum’s funeral first.’
‘You promise me?’
‘I promise.’
‘Can I ask you something else?’
‘Anything,’ Harry replied.
‘Will you sing for me?’
Harry looked his father in the eye. ‘I’ll sing for you whenever you like. You only have to ask.’
‘Can I have front row seats?’
Tears ran down Harry’s face but he left them unchecked. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Good.’
Harry leaned over and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. ‘I love you, Dad,’ he repeated. This time the words weren’t quite so difficult to get out.
‘Love you too, Harry. And I’m proud of you and all you’ve achieved with this singing stuff. Always have been. Just wasted too many bloody years not telling you.’
*
Later that night after a dinner of reheated casserole, thanks to one of the locals, Harry was sitting watching television when he heard a car outside. He was emotionally shattered after his conversation with his dad and wasn’t in the mood for another person to come and express their grief over his mum’s passing. He willed them to think no one was home and to leave, but seconds later a light knock sounded on the back door. He eased out of the couch, shuffled down the hallway on bare feet and opened the door.
Eddie!
Relief filled him. They’d kept missing each other on the phone and he’d begun to convince himself she didn’t want to talk to him for some reason, which he knew was crazy but his mind had been playing irrational tricks on him since his mum’s death.
He reached for her to hug her, but when she stiffened in his arms, he went into high alert. His mind wasn’t playing games. Something was wrong. He led her down the hallway and into the living room. He switched off the television, sat on the couch and waited for her to sit next to him.
‘I’m so sorry about your house,’ he said when she didn’t say anything.
‘It’s just a house,’ she mumbled. Her fingers flew to a gold chain around her neck and her hand squeezed into a fist around a small gold medallion he’d never seen before.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘At Aimee’s, but only because I have nowhere else to go.’
‘You look tired,’ he said. That was putting it nicely. She looked dreadful. Her face was pale and drawn with dark circles under both eyes.
As though she finally had the permission to fall apart, she sank back into the couch, burdened and exhausted by everything that had happened. ‘I am tired. I can’t remember when I last slept properly.’
He watched her chew on her lip for a second. Something else was wrong and it wasn’t just her homelessness.
Her eyes lifted up to meet his and she stared at him for a moment. ‘But what about you? I can’t imagine what you’re going through.’
He exhaled slowly. ‘I haven’t slept much either.’
A tear fell from one eye. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save your mum, Harry. I’m sorry about your dad. I’m sorry about Digby. I’m sorry about everything that happened. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to change it.’ As the words tumbled from her mouth more tears streamed down her cheeks.
He pressed a finger gently to her lips. ‘Stop, Eddie. Are you blaming yourself? It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. Mum had a heart attack. You couldn’t prevent that. It was an accident.’
‘So you don’t blame me?’ she asked.
‘Not at all. I spoke to your friend Lisa. She told me what happened out there. You were a hero. You saved my dad’s life.’ Tears filled his own eyes. ‘You gave me a gift, Eddie. The chance to talk to him, to hear him say he’s sorry. To hear him tell me he’s proud of me. I’m going to miss Mum like you wouldn’t believe, and I know it might only be a matter of months before we lose Dad too, but it could have been worse.’
Eddie stared at him, unspeaking.
‘I could have lost them both in the fire.’ He found her hands and waited for her to meet his eyes. ‘But what would have been unimaginable is if I’d also lost you.’ He swallowed and squeezed her fingers. ‘I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can’t imagine life without you.’ He lifted one hand to caress her face. ‘I’ve waited years to feel this way about a woman and now I underst
and why it took so long. I hadn’t met you.’
When she didn’t respond, his heart lurched. Say something. Please, he begged silently, watching her blink.
Finally the smallest of smiles lit her eyes and she leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips. ‘I can’t imagine life without you either,’ she whispered before kissing him again.
His heart swelled. An idea popped into his head and he took both her hands in his. ‘Move in with me, Eddie.’
She pulled back and stared at him.
‘You just told me you have nowhere else to go. You can move in here,’ he repeated.
‘You mean because you’ve got a spare bedroom?’
He stroked her cheek. ‘I want you to move in with me, Eddie. To my bedroom. My bed. My life.’
She sucked in a sharp breath and for a second he thought he’d rushed her.
‘Forever,’ he added, softly.
‘Not just tonight?’ she confirmed, looking at him like she hardly dared to believe he was serious.
He was very serious. But although he desperately wanted to take her straight to his room now, remove all of her clothes and show her how much she meant to him, he sensed the need to take things slowly this time. To reassure Eddie he wanted her for more than just sex.
‘We can start with tonight and take it from there,’ he said.
She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘I like that idea.’
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight as they both cried. But despite how much they’d both lost, his heart exploded with love. In the midst of darkness and despair, he’d found a glimmer of light called Eddie Campbell.
*
Harry woke with a jolt hours later. What had he heard? His head felt fuzzy from too little sleep. He rubbed his eyes, rolled over and looked at the clock. Four-fifteen. He heard a bark and this time sat bolt upright, the sheets falling to his waist. Beside him, Eddie stirred.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her voice groggy and thick with sleep.
‘I thought I heard a dog barking.’
Another bark sounded and Harry snapped to attention and leaped out of bed, not caring about his nakedness. He flung open the curtains but the moon was hidden behind thick clouds and he couldn’t see anything. Had he been dreaming? No, he could definitely hear a dog, or something. He pulled on the boxer shorts he’d discarded at the end of the bed and strode down the hallway to investigate. Opening the back door he stared into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Nothing.
‘Harry?’ Eddie slid her warm arms around his waist. ‘Come back to bed.’
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and from the shadows near the shed a black and white shape appeared. He gasped.
Digby!
He sprinted across the gravel to the dog, not even feeling the stones as they dug into his bare feet.
‘Digby,’ he shouted.
The dog limped towards him, head down. His black and white coat was singed with soot, his eyes dull. He attempted to wag his tail and bark again, but the effort seemed to exhaust him. Harry picked him up and rushed back inside while Digby half-heartedly licked at his face before he went limp. A lump formed in Harry’s throat and tears burned behind his eyelids. Digby was alive, but only just. ‘We have to get him to a vet.’
Eddie already had her keys and bag in her hands. ‘Get in my car. We’ll take him to Gus.’
‘Gus?’
‘Aimee’s hubby. He’s a vet. Come on, let’s go.’
Chapter 34
On the morning of his mum’s funeral, a week after the fire, Harry woke just after five o’clock and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Eddie didn’t even stir when he got out of bed. He padded into the kitchen and turned on the heater. The weather had changed almost overnight and there was a crispness to the air that announced autumn had finally arrived. It was a relief to everyone. Digby sidled up to him and dropped at his feet. Harry reached down and rubbed his ears. Before the fire Digby was rarely allowed inside – now Harry didn’t want him out of his sight. If Digby wanted to sleep inside every night, he could.
He stuck his head into his father’s bedroom and heard his rhythmic breathing. Good. At least he was catching up on his sleep. Grabbing his laptop, Harry settled into his dad’s old recliner in the lounge and opened up a blank Word document. It was time to write his mum’s eulogy.
Because of his all-consuming grief he’d left writing it until the last minute knowing it would be impossible to find the right words. But now, although it wasn’t any easier, in the early morning stillness he forced himself to pause and reflect on his mum’s life. Once he started, he realised he had so much he wanted to say, and the words poured out easily.
After finishing, he must have dozed off because he woke to the sound of the shower. Eddie must be awake. Digby lay snoring at his feet, his head resting on Harry’s feet. Harry got up and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast for Eddie, Digby trailing behind him like a shadow. He flicked the switch on the kettle and slotted some bread into the toaster. The toast popped up as Eddie came into the kitchen. She rubbed his back and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He inhaled her freshly showered smell. ‘Morning. Sleep well?’
‘I did, thanks,’ she said.
Digby’s tail thumped on the floor and Eddie reached down and gently ruffled his ears. Digby looked up at her adoringly.
Settling into life together had been easier than either of them expected. It still felt a little strange sharing his double bed in the cramped bedroom of his childhood, but at least the house was big enough that he and Eddie didn’t feel like they were under Jim’s feet. It was only a temporary solution anyway. Harry had taken an indefinite leave of absence from the show, but once the funeral was over and he was sure his dad was going to be okay with the nursing care and council help they’d arranged, he needed to get back to Melbourne. He wasn’t even sure they’d hold his role for him, but right now that was the least of his issues. First he had to get through the funeral then, if he was going back to Melbourne, he needed to convince Eddie to come with him. He still wasn’t sure what her response would be.
She pointed to the toast. ‘Not hungry?’
‘I made it for you. I don’t think I could eat anything.’
‘It’s a big day. You probably should eat something.’
He tried to smile. ‘I’ll be okay.’
She gently kneaded his shoulders. ‘It’s okay not to be okay.’ She held him tight and he rested his head against her jumper. ‘It’s going to work out,’ she said firmly. ‘We just have to get through today.’
He heard footsteps and turned around. Claire stood in the doorway. ‘I’ve come to help get Dad up,’ she said with a sad smile.
Eddie went to her and hugged her. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’
*
The funeral home sent two cars to collect the family so they could travel in convoy to the church and wake afterwards. Harry, Eddie and Jim travelled in the first car, Claire, Simon and the kids in the second. As the cars turned into the church yard Harry gasped. There had to be hundreds of people gathered under the trees.
‘Why aren’t they inside the church?’ he asked the driver.
‘It’s already full. We’re setting up a marquee around the side for the overflow. Someone’s bringing more plastic chairs over from the school.’
Harry glanced over at two men busily erecting speakers on tripod stands. ‘I can’t believe so many people have come out for your mum,’ Jim said from the back seat as he craned his head from side to side looking out the windows.
‘They’ve come for you too,’ Eddie said, placing her hand on Jim’s.
The car pulled to a stop and Harry climbed out first and helped the driver get the wheelchair from the boot. Since the fire Jim had struggled to walk and found it easier to be in a wheelchair.
It was perfect picnic weather, not funeral weather. Warm and sunny with barely a breeze and birds chirping in the trees as though no one had told them it
was supposed to be a sombre occasion. The kind of day his mum had always loved, Harry realised, so perhaps it was fitting the weather had cooperated.
Simon straightened his suit and tie, took Claire’s hand and headed over to Harry. ‘Want me to push your dad so you and Claire can say g’day to people?’ he asked.
‘Nah, it’s all right, mate. This is something I want to do.’ Harry rested a hand on his dad’s shoulder before crouching beside him. ‘How are you doing, Dad?’
Jim gave a tight smile. ‘I’m okay.’ He was lying, but they all were. None of them were okay.
Harry squeezed his dad’s shoulder. ‘Let’s do this.’
He straightened up and gave Eddie and his sister a weak smile before pushing the wheelchair towards the church. As he got closer, Harry removed his sunglasses and tried to smile at the people mingled outside. There were so many, but he recognised very few faces. Eddie and Claire seemed to know everyone though, both women stopping to hug people as they made their way inside. Jim remained stiffly upright, shoulders tense, in the chair, nodding his greetings.
As soon as they entered the church a hush fell over the crowd and Harry became aware that someone was playing the organ. His legs were heavy, like he was trying to wade through water in slow motion. His gaze roamed around the small church. Did his mum even know this many people? The minister, Libby, greeted Harry with a handshake that morphed into a motherly hug. Claire was also greeted with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Libby bent down and spoke to Jim. Her words were soft and Harry couldn’t make out what she was saying, but whatever it was appeared to give his dad some comfort.
After he manoeuvred the wheelchair into position and put the brakes on, he took his assigned seat on the front pew with his dad on one side of him in the aisle, and Eddie on the other with Claire beside her.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment and let the music wash over him before opening them and staring at the casket. The fragrance coming from the roses hit him hard and his throat tightened and tears welled. Jenny would never pick another rose from her garden. Under the roses, a stunning quilt, the last one she’d ever made, lay draped over the coffin.
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