Elegy

by Jane Abbott

  ‘So I seduced you?’ His hand dipped to her waist and slid over her hip, back and forth.

  ‘We seduced each other and it was wonderful. Beautiful. Magic.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, recalling his dreams, and Cait sighed.

  ‘But it was also destructive, Michael. It brought down the kingdom and drowned out the light and the world fell back into darkness. I was condemned, you were disgraced and he was betrayed. Good men died because of us.’

  His hand stilled. ‘Why are we here, Cait? What’s the point if it’s so hopeless?’

  ‘Because it’s not hopeless. From that – from us – came one of the greatest legends. Vision, passion, hope.’ She paused. ‘Despair. We’re here because we have no choice. This is who we are – what we’ve become – and our tragedy is the hope we give. And the price we pay.’

  ‘But what a price, Cait. Is it really worth it?’ He always asked the same question, and Cait always answered in the same way.

  ‘Yes. And when I’m with you, like this, I’m never more sure.’

  ‘But we’re not always like this, are we?’ he said, a little bitter, a little angry.

  ‘No, Michael. We’re not.’

  His grip tightened. ‘Why did you wait? Why not tell me from the start?’

  ‘Because it’s different this time – too strong and too fast. Your dreams. The girl. And you wouldn’t have believed me. I didn’t know what to do except wait.’

  ‘We can beat this, Cait,’ he told her. ‘I know we can.’

  ‘No, we can’t.’ He didn’t say anything, but buried his mouth in her hair. She tilted her head to look at him. ‘How did you know? When I kissed your cheek, how did you know?’

  ‘Wasn’t I supposed to? Well, that backfired, didn’t it?’ Laughing suddenly, he pulled her to lie on top of him and stared up at her. ‘I hope I’ll always know it’s you, Cait. Kiss me every time we meet so I know. Promise me.’

  ‘I promise,’ she said, and shivered.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asked, sliding warm hands over her back.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not any more.’ The fire had now been lit.

  ‘Good,’ he muttered. ‘Then you can warm me.’ He kissed her with soft lips while he held her close.

  ‘Michael, we don’t have time,’ said Cait, even as she surrendered.

  Rolling her over, he pinned her beneath him. ‘Then we’ll make time,’ he said, and his kiss deepened.

  He crept into her room every night, after hours and in the dark, insatiable, giving, demanding, loving, and they snatched sleep when they could, in each other’s arms, on Cait’s narrow bed. During the day they’d sit in the paddock and talk, before he’d tire of that and his hands would wander, distracting her, teasing and provoking until she succumbed and gave him what he wanted. Other times she was the one who made demands and he’d smile and yield. And while they played, she let him build the fence, alone, without lifting a single tool, a little every day, to give them more time.

  When they were at home, when others were around, they tried to be careful, as they knew they must. But every now and then Cait would catch him looking at her with such heat and longing she’d have to turn away.

  On the last day, while he finished the fence, she told him of the other girls in his dreams – as well as those he hadn’t seen – and of who she and Michael had been. She told him when they’d lived and where they’d loved and how they’d died, and when she was done he said, marvelling, ‘So many.’

  ‘Not nearly enough,’ Cait replied.

  She prayed for time, but when Gabe came and sat with her on the verandah and told her about Pete and Casey and what was being said, she knew those prayers would go unanswered.

  ‘I’m worried, Cait,’ Gabe said. ‘Casey’s not going to stop.’

  ‘No.’ She should have realised that years ago, when his pursuit of her had been thwarted, before Michael had ever become involved. She should have recognised then the part Casey might play.

  ‘I might not be so worried if it wasn’t true,’ Gabe told her quietly.

  Cait sighed. ‘How did you find out?’

  A tight smile. ‘Michael’s not the only one around here with special powers.’ She wanted to laugh but it was no laughing matter. ‘I wasn’t the first to clue in, though,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. The girl. Michael told me.’

  Gabe frowned. ‘She has a name.’

  ‘I know.’

  He looked at her, frustrated. ‘Thing is, that’s not all I know.’

  Cait stared out at the garden, taking comfort from his presence but feeling cold. Perhaps she should’ve been more prepared, should’ve known that Gabe would find out and want to help, doing what he’d always done and protect them both. Perhaps she should have told him the day after the party, when she’d found him in the garden. He’d deserved that much. But she hadn’t, and now he was telling her. ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘It wasn’t all that hard in the end. Michael never deleted his search history on the computer. Good thing we’re such a trusting family, huh?’ Gabe smiled bleakly. ‘I’m not sure I get it, though, so can I ask you something?’ When she nodded, he took a deep breath and his next words were rushed. ‘Was it you who opened that box?’

  Cait didn’t look at him but watched the chickens scratch the dirt. ‘Yes.’ She took his hand, knowing he’d been hoping she might deny it. ‘I’m sorry, Gabe. I know it’s a lot to take in. Don’t be scared.’

  He blew out a long sigh. ‘I’m not. Really. It’s weird, but I’m not. I’m bloody worried, Cait.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘So it’s true, then? What you did?’ He wasn’t accusing, just puzzled.

  ‘Yes and no. Don’t you see? The story is simply that. There was no box, no evils. At least, not as people believe them to be. I gave only one thing, and it was a good thing.’

  ‘And Michael? Did he …?’ He broke off, unsure how to put into words what he’d read.

  ‘Yes.’

  There was silence while he processed that single word. ‘I don’t know what’s real any more, Cait. I’ve never believed in any of that stuff.’

  ‘Good, because none of it means what people think. Every culture has its own story of Michael, its own adaptation to suit its own beliefs. And of me. They’re important, but none of them are right. Until people learn to let go – until they understand that these concepts of good and evil are no more than the beginning and end of the same line of thought – they’ll always struggle to see who we really are.’ Except you, she wanted to add.

  ‘And all the times after? Are they – were they – true?’ He went on to name the few he’d been able to discover, the legends she and Michael had once been, whose fame had endured.

  ‘Mostly. The names don’t matter, really; some change with every telling. It’s like an endless Chinese whisper. But yes, we’ve been those people and more.’ As well as the untold, the unsung, the lives they’d led alone without meeting.

  ‘But why? How? What’s the point of it all?’

  She smiled; hadn’t Michael asked the same thing? ‘To help you, perhaps? Like we did the first time. And this is our punishment, over and over.’

  ‘So you’re, like, reincarnated?’ He was still sceptical.

  ‘That’s just a word, Gabe. But for us, I suppose, there’s some truth to it.’

  ‘This is crazy.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not all bad and sometimes great things come of it – like all the tales you found. They give hope, shine a light, and that’s why they’re remembered. Everything has a purpose.’

  ‘Even pricks like Casey?’ he scoffed.

  ‘Especially pricks like Casey,’ Cait replied. When he frowned, she squeezed his hand. That he hadn’t run in horror or laughed with ridicule – that he believed her words, or at least wanted to – was testament to his strength, and she needed that now, almost as much as he did. If only their gifts ran as strongly in everyone as they did in Gabe.
r />   ‘So Michael has his power, and I guess it explains a lot, but what about you? What can you do?’ he asked.

  Cait smiled. ‘Nothing like that. I wasn’t what he was. Think of what you’ve learned, Gabe. Unravel it. I’m the keeper of the jar – the box – and Michael is renewed every time he returns. He doesn’t need me to use his power. He needs me to remind him, because it’s not just my memories I keep but his too.’

  ‘But why?’

  She shrugged. ‘To increase our punishment? Or maybe it’s so that when we do find each other, the passion is greater.’ And the tragedy deeper.

  ‘But who’s punishing you, Cait?’

  ‘I can’t answer that, Gabe. I’m sorry.’

  He accepted her reply as he’d accepted everything else – with love. ‘And if you don’t meet? What happens to Michael then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m never there.’

  He mulled it over for a bit, before saying, ‘What now? Do you sit back and wait for everything to turn to shit? That’s not much of a plan, Cait.’

  ‘Do you think I want this to happen? Do you think we haven’t tried before? Why do you think I’ve kept Michael at a distance?’

  ‘You need to get out of here. Casey won’t stop, and once the town hears about –’

  ‘Michael can’t know about Casey. Not yet.’

  ‘Why not? He’ll find out anyway, once school starts back. And what about Jim? Have you thought about that?’

  She turned tired eyes to him and saw his quick regret. ‘You think you know what Michael can do, but that’s only the start, Gabe. He’s too strong this time. And he’s so very angry. So, yes, I’m worried – enough for all of us.’

  He stared at his feet for a while. Cait wondered what he was thinking, if he was trying to picture Michael as she knew him.

  ‘Fine,’ he said at last. ‘But listen, I’ve got some money saved from the sales. When you’re ready, I want you and Michael to take it and disappear. Get on a train, get down to the city or wherever, and start over. Don’t wait too long. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was all she would allow herself, and him, but it was enough to bring the smile she loved. ‘Now, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘You mean Jen? No, I haven’t told anyone.’ He gave a helpless shrug. ‘Wouldn’t even know where to begin. But would it be a problem if she did know? She’s not like the rest of them.’

  ‘No,’ Cait said slowly. ‘She’s not. And maybe she’s a part of this too.’

  Gabe cocked his head. ‘What does that mean?’

  She smiled, to ease his sudden concern. ‘Don’t you know, Gabe? The world is a stage, and we’re all just actors upon it.’ That much had been true, at least.

  ‘Only some parts are bigger than others, right? Like yours and Michael’s?’

  ‘Yes, but often the greatest scenes depend upon the smallest roles.’

  He stared at her. ‘Okay, enough. Jeez, no wonder people think you’re weird.’

  She laughed. ‘Just so long as you don’t.’

  He nudged her with his shoulder. ‘Promise me everything’s going to be okay, Cait.’

  ‘Of course,’ she told him.

  She stayed after he left, pondering all that had happened and what he’d told her. Knowing only the past didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine what lay ahead. For what was the future but a repeat of what had gone before? A disease was named, a cure was found, before another rose to replace it. Empires grew and fell away again, wars were won and then lost, borders shifted and countries were torn apart to reform. People were born as others died. There was religion and there was science. There was faith and there was commerce. There was understanding and there was denial. It was the same cycle, over and over, but the permutations were endless. For which disease would arise, which war would be fought, which nation might fall and which one of them would die?

  She thought of the girl who’d first made sense of them without ever knowing, and of her significance, first to Michael and now to Gabe. For a long time Cait sat there thinking about Jennifer, the girl whose name she’d once shared, when she’d lived in a stone stronghold and had worn a green gown.

  Is there, in human-form, that bears a heart—

  A wretch! A villain! Lost to love and truth!

  That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,

  Betray sweet Jenny’s unsuspecting youth?

  ROBERT BURNS, ‘The Cotter’s Saturday Night’

  XIV

  It was Sunday before Gabe had a chance to corner Michael alone.

  ‘So much for “never Cait”,’ he said, from the doorway of the shed.

  Michael looked up, wary. Then, seeing Gabe’s smile, he relaxed and nodded. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I meant it at the time, though.’

  ‘I know.’ Gabe walked across to help unload the ute; the clatter of tools did away with conversation. When they were done, and there was no more excuse for silence, he said, ‘So what happens now?’

  Michael dusted himself off. ‘Think I might go and change my shirt.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘No.’ Michael sighed. ‘Look, I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this either.’

  Gabe eyed his brother, thinking on what he knew and what he’d seen four nights ago, here in the shed, when he’d come to lock up after dinner.

  In the corner, where the tractor was supposed to be, Michael had conjured a bower, soft and sheer, all floating white silk and down-filled pillows, like something out of a movie. The shed had glowed, not with the harsh flickering light of the fluorescent tubes chained to the rafters, but with a soft radiance that shimmered and pulsed, and Gabe realised, as he watched, that it came from Michael and Cait. There’d been the faintest sound of music too, but it was inside his head; a tune Gabe almost knew but couldn’t quite remember.

  Cait sat on the bed made for her, and Gabe watched Michael lean in and kiss her, moving his lips on hers, parting them, seeking more. She sighed and tilted her head back, exposing her throat, and his lips followed the length of it down to kiss the hollow of her shoulder, everything unhurried, weightless and fluid. Her hands caressed him, gently urging, and with aching slowness he undid the top button of her shirt and then the next.

  Gabe had turned away, leaving them to it.

  Now, with a different light – an everyday light – streaming in from the open door, it was hard for him to equate this Michael with the one he’d seen before. Then he gave a mental shrug. Whatever else he might be, he was still Michael, and there was no point beating around the bush.

  Gabe glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. ‘I saw the two of you. Up here. A few nights ago.’ When he saw Michael’s slow smile, he added, ‘You need to be more careful, mate.’

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  No, Gabe thought. It’d been the opposite of bad; it’d stirred feelings and longings he hadn’t known he had or believed he was capable of. ‘I’m serious,’ he said, annoyed by Michael’s attempt to laugh it off. ‘What if it’d been Jim or Barb? What the hell do you think they would’ve done?’

  A sigh and a faint scowl. ‘When I’m with her, nothing else matters. You know?’

  But Gabe didn’t. He’d never felt that way. Not the way Michael and Cait did. Then again, maybe nobody ever could. ‘And it’s not just what I saw, mate. It’s what happens every time you’re together. Shit, sometimes it’s like a bloody heatwave in the house – and I’m not the only one who’s feeling it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, okay?’ Michael was frowning again. ‘I’m trying to get a handle on it.’

  Gabe rubbed his head, and tried again. Cait hadn’t understood, but Michael might. ‘You need to get away from here. Both of you.’

  ‘Yeah, Cait told me you’d say that. Look, Gabe, you think I haven’t thought about it? I know the risks, okay? I know what people will say. I understand that better than her. But we’re safe he
re. For now, anyway.’

  Except they weren’t. Cait might’ve told him that Gabe knew, but it was clear she hadn’t yet told him about Casey or what was being said.

  ‘You can’t always be here! You can’t hide out forever. What about school? And it’s not just the town or what happens when you’re together. It’s everything else. Everything you can do.’ He paused, then risked it. ‘It’s Casey.’

  Michael’s frown deepened and darkened; there was a flash of heat, and Gabe’s skin felt slick with sweat. ‘If he tries anything –’

  ‘What? You’ll break his other arm? You think that’s going to help?’ Gabe said. He’d already threatened Casey with worse, and look what that had achieved.

  Michael walked around the ute, slow, almost menacing, and the air sizzled and shadows gathered and thickened. ‘Cait told me you worked it out. Who we were. Who I was.’ His smile was cold. ‘Who I am. Doesn’t it freak you out?’

  Yeah, it freaked him out – big time – but freaking out wouldn’t help either of them, so Gabe stood his ground.

  You think you know what Michael can do, but that’s just the start.

  ‘Say it, Gabe. Say my name. My real name.’

  ‘Stop it, Michael.’

  A sudden laugh, and the shed became a sauna. ‘That’s not it. Come on, say it. Say it!’ The last words thundered.

  He’s too strong this time. And he’s so very angry.

  Now Gabe understood Cait’s concern, and he wished he’d listened, because what stood before him wasn’t what he knew or who he loved. And it was getting hard to breathe, the air close and hot, his lungs struggling, his head pressing and aching. ‘You’re Michael,’ he said, somehow managing to get the words out. ‘You’re my brother.’

  Another flash, and Gabe gasped. Then Michael blinked and shook his head and, as quickly as it’d built, the fire in him sputtered out. Gabe’s shirt was soaked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Michael muttered. ‘I am. Sorry. I’m … Shit, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ But it wasn’t. If just the mention of Casey’s name could trigger such a reaction, Gabe dreaded to think what might happen when the two of them came face to face.