House for All Seasons

by Jenn J. McLeod

  Sara had folded her arms over her chest, prepared for his reflexive glance at her defect. After all, isn’t that what she’d done to Will in the café that first morning? Will’s gaze had not budged, though, still fixed on her face.

  ‘I … I don’t know what to say, Sara, why didn’t you tell me?’ More shock and confusion distorted Will’s face, his words no doubt still finding their way out of the fog, his head still grappling with the consequences. Sara knew that much from experience. ‘Can you …? Can’t they …?’ Will was trying.

  ‘Cut the thing out?’

  Sara’s secret was secret no more. Blurted twice in as many days. What now? Running was not an option, not with the way Will’s hand was tightening around her knee. Had he suspected she might try? Maybe he knew her better than she thought.

  Sara breathed deep.

  Might as well go for broke, especially since Item 4 on THE DARN LIST is: be proud of your body.

  She chafed her hands over her arms, a feeble attempt to disguise the truth. The night was hardly cold, yet she shivered as if her blood had stopped pumping. That might account for why her brain refused to function.

  ‘They did operate, Will.’ She pushed the words out, trying to sound upbeat, but the resultant melodic, high-pitched confession only made her sound desperate. ‘I had a breast removed two years ago. I’m clear of cancer … at the moment, and if I make it to five years … well, who knows. Until then, I can’t be certain. Every lump, every ache, every pain terrifies me. I don’t make long-range plans much these days. I embrace life, but one step at a time. At least that’s what Item 3 on THE LIST says: one step at a time.’

  ‘The list?’

  ‘Coming back to Calingarry Crossing, seeing you, it’s helping me tick off a few to-dos. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s all!’ Will’s exasperation startled Sara. He sounded angry. Where was the tea and sympathy, the predictable pity party she’d expected?

  ‘I see,’ Will continued. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me sooner that I was on some kind of bucket list? Some sort of goal you get to tick off.’

  ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant. I hate the idea of bucket lists. Where did that phrase come from anyway? If a label can explain what I mean, then call it a want list. I wanted to see you …yes … but I … I never expected this. I can’t …’

  ‘Can’t what? Let me love you?’ The muscles in his jaw clenched. ‘I’m used to all sorts of reasons from the ladies since I found myself in this frigging contraption. Thought I’d heard every excuse there was. Some women are more, ah, inventive than others.’

  Sara bristled. She had to get out of that seat and put some distance between them.

  Will didn’t stop her this time.

  She walked over to the edge of the porch and spoke to the stars. ‘I’m not inventing anything, and I certainly don’t need an excuse to—’

  ‘Walk away like every other woman? Then what, Sara?’

  She closed her eyes, wished she’d never started the conversation, even though she knew Sara Fraser was well and truly out of wishes these days, her lifetime allowance wasted on Joel and two years of misery. Misery was not going to be a part of her future.

  ‘I’m not walking away from you for any reason other than I don’t have the right to fall in love, get married, have children. I can’t … I won’t.’

  ‘Won’t? Why?’

  Exasperation spun Sara around, forcing her to look Will in the eyes. ‘Because for years I watched disease drain the life slowly from my parents. I won’t tie anyone to me to watch me die. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, Will. I’m trying to accept the inevitable.’

  ‘The inevitable?’ His gaze didn’t falter, his eyes like two lasers trying to bore into her brain, begging to get inside her mind so he might understand. ‘I don’t get it. So you have cancer. What’s the problem?’

  Sara gasped, wounded, his words like a slap in the face. ‘I beg your pardon!’

  ‘Oh don’t sound so bloody mortified.’ Will fired up again, his hand slamming the armrest of the settee, and for the first time Sara glimpsed the frustration he felt at being bound to a chair. ‘You’re being open with me—now I’m going to be open with you.

  ‘You say you’re embracing life. Well, good on you! You are so lucky you can take one bloody step at a time. Hell, Sara, you’re a living, breathing, beautiful woman and if I could, I’d get up right now, walk over there, carry you inside and—’

  ‘Will, this is not helping,’ Sara scolded. ‘I’m not back in Calingarry Crossing for good.’

  ‘But you’re here tonight and we’re all grown up, so come here and sit down.’

  Sara didn’t budge, her stranglehold on the railing not loosening. Tears blurred her eyes, tipping over, rolling down both cheeks, her throat burning from a sob held back. Now her nose was starting to run, which was exactly what she felt like doing.

  ‘Sara, I’m sorry. Please, don’t do this tonight.’ Desperation hardened the otherwise gentle demand. ‘Please, don’t stand there. Don’t challenge me. I can’t come to you. You have to come to me.’

  They both fell silent. Will sitting there, staring. Sara trying not to let him see the tears stinging her eyes.

  ‘And if you don’t come to me, you’ll leave me with one of two options. Either I beg or I yell at you. And if I yell, my mother will fly out that door at the far end of the veranda and come to my aid.’ His smile crept back, but remained small, unsure.

  ‘Will, I’m trying to be serious,’ she said, trying to sound serious despite the sniffing. ‘Do you think you can quit with the jokes and just—’

  ‘Sara, why are you making this so hard? If you think I’m going to sit here and let you put the bloody kybosh on us before we’ve even had a chance—’

  ‘It’s called having a serious conversation, Will.’

  ‘You be serious on your own. I ran out of “serious” a few years back and I sure as hell am not about to stop cracking jokes. They are the only thing keeping my head above the sand. I know all about the crap quicksand, Sara. It’ll drag you down so fast if you struggle. You have to learn to relax.’

  ‘Relax?’

  ‘You think I can’t understand what you are going through? I know more about losing than you think, and I’m not talking about my wife or my career. If it’s not bad enough that I lost my legs, I had to come home to my mother and lose what was left of my dignity. No one is ever going to strip me of my humour. It’s who I am and how I cope.’ He ended with a Will shrug.

  If Sara wanted serious, she had it. Will looked like he was counting to ten, his head hanging, shaking.

  ‘Look, Sara, you think life is so uncertain. There’s one sure-fire fact about me. If you want to run away, I can’t chase you. All I’m asking is that you sit a bit. Give me a minute, please.’ He patted the space beside him.

  Sara’s feet somehow managed to work and she sat on the seat next to Will, the overwhelming concoction of confusion and ecstasy triggering the unstoppable release of tears.

  ‘I don’t want to run,’ she snivelled. ‘It’s just … the idea of getting close to a man … I don’t … I haven’t … not since the surgery.’

  ‘Sara, Sara,’ Will whispered and lifted her face to his. ‘Look at me. Look who you’re talking to. I haven’t been much of a Valentino myself of late. You and me, we’ve got a few more hurdles than most, so let me tell you what we’re going to do.’

  Sara sucked in a shaky mouthful of air. ‘Do?’

  ‘Here’s the plan.’ His thumb wiped her cheeks one after the other. ‘I promise to behave and give you space if you promise to stay, at least until January. You need to fulfil your obligation with the house and we can take things a step at a time. I can take those steps with you if you help me. No one has to go anywhere. There’s no need for any goodbyes. Hey, who knows? It’s entirely possible if we work together for that long, we may eventually kill each other somewhere between now and Australia Day. Either that, or Dom will kill me if I let you
go before the Christmas rush, then cook me up and put Cretin Stew on the specials board.’

  Sara was laughing again, even while tears washed down both cheeks. ‘You think you’ve got problems with Dom. If Jennifer knew I was out here with you she’d be sticking pins in a voodoo doll.’

  ‘Like this, you mean?’ Will jabbed her in the ribs and they were back to being sixteen again, poking at each other and squealing in hushed voices for fear of disturbing Caroline Travelli.

  After the laughter faded, they stared silently into the dark, like they used to do after a game of Sunday street cricket when they’d hang out on the veranda of Will’s house sipping cool drinks.

  No hand holding.

  No touching.

  Just two friends.

  ‘Thank you, Will.’

  ‘Okay then, how about we do something totally out there?’ he said.

  Sara sat up and blinked in disbelief. ‘You mean now?’

  ‘No, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. I mean that fishing trip. Jasper has been at me for ages. It’s public, it’s no pressure, no awkward moments. The kids will be with us, so I’ll have to behave. Besides, fishing’s the most relaxing thing in the world.’

  ‘Unless you’re a worm.’ Sara smiled.

  ‘Ha! You sound like Jaz. What do you reckon?’

  ‘I reckon you’re pretty amazing.’

  ‘Well, wait till you see me haulin’ in a big fish.’

  11

  The four of them must have looked a sight traipsing along a well-worn pathway through the scrub, Will carrying Jazzy on his lap, one protective arm hugging her tight like a seatbelt, while Jasper helped the wheelchair over the rough terrain. All four wore big hats and a solid lathering of sunblock lotion. Sara carried a knapsack of handlines and tackle, while Jazzy clutched a small foam cooler on her lap that supposedly contained drink cans. The conspiratorial glance between father and son suggested the unsuspecting seven-year-old was probably also guarding worms.

  ‘I’m totally lost.’ Sara didn’t recognise the small open patch of recently cleared parking area where they’d left the car. ‘Where are we fishing today?’

  ‘This is a shortcut. We’re going to where Russell Wilson said his dad caught a fish this big.’ Jasper’s arms opened wide.

  ‘Wow, that sure is big.’

  ‘That’s the spot, up there on the bridge.’ They came into a clearing by the river in time for Jasper to point.

  Sara’s gasp siphoned her lungs of air, turning her feet to lead, making her trip.

  ‘Are you all right? Is something wrong?’ Will asked.

  ‘The bridge,’ she stammered, suddenly craving liquid, something cool and lubricating on a throat baked dry by dread. ‘I don’t want to go there. I’ll wait back here.’

  ‘You go on ahead, kids,’ Will coaxed, sliding Jazzy off his lap, as if there’d be any stopping the excitable pair anyway. ‘Sara and I will set up camp back over there on the grass.’

  ‘Aw, but why?’ Jazzy whined. ‘Come, Daddy, come wiv us.’ The girl’s tiny hand made little impact as she tugged her father’s arm like he was any ordinary man being coerced out of his seat and onto his feet. Will handed Jasper the knapsack. ‘Go find a good spot,’ he called after them as the two children raced towards the bridge. ‘And make sure you stay where we can see each other.’

  ‘Will, I’m fine. You should be with them,’ Sara said, conscious of her rising panic, the short, uneven breaths, parched mouth, trembling legs.

  ‘They’re fine.’

  ‘What if they’re not? It’s too dangerous on their own. What if they were to fall? Please, Will. If something happens while you’re here with me I’ll … I’ll—’

  ‘Never forgive yourself?’ Will gave her a knowing look, as if it had just clicked. He manipulated the wheelchair over the path until he was directly in front of her. ‘Sara, Sara, relax,’ he beseeched. ‘It’s just a bridge. They won’t fall, not unless they climb over the rail, and they know not to do that. Besides, the council fixed the bridge so nothing bad like that would ever happen again. No more … accidents.’

  Sara noticed his hesitation, her fear fusing with anger. ‘Don’t say it like that. It was an accident. She fell. I told the police that at the time.’

  ‘Sara, honey, I didn’t say it like anything. I believe you now and I believed it then. I wasn’t part of that gossip.’

  ‘I told them. I don’t know how many times I told them there was no need for an investigation. They didn’t have to ask all those dumb questions around town and get people thinking the worst.’

  ‘How were you so sure?’ Will asked. ‘You weren’t there when she fell.’

  She sighed. ‘Don’t ask me to explain. I can’t. I just knew. When Willow and I were young, we were close in a way that … well, much closer than I was with Poppy or Caitlin, or anyone. Sometimes we knew what the other was thinking. We’d even say the same thing at the same time, or finish each other’s sentences.’ Her words trickled out on a laugh. ‘Did you ever do that with someone and hook little fingers, close your eyes, make a wish?’

  ‘Oh yeah, us blokes used to do that kind of thing in the locker room after a win.’ Will winked, reached into the saddlebag hanging on the back of his chair and pulled out two water bottles.

  ‘Thanks.’

  It felt good talking to Will, as did the cool river of water coursing down her throat. This place echoed with memories of Willow, and the image that came to Sara as she closed her eyes seemed too crisp to be her imagination: the palest of blue eyes drooping under long lashes, sad eyes, the kind that made it hard to say no, the kind that made you smile; a cute but crooked grin, a broken front tooth from a fall; and freckles like sprinklings of red dust on her nose that spilled over onto her cheeks. She was young for her age, small boned, but taller than Sara.

  Isn’t everyone?

  ‘Hello? Earth to Sara.’

  ‘Sorry, Will. I’m keeping you from your kids. Not to mention that gigantic fish you promised them.’ Sara forced a brave face, like she had with Willow the day a school bully filled her sunhat with chewing gum. That afternoon, after Sara had tugged and tugged, trying to remove the disgusting stuff, Willow told her to cut it out. The girl’s honey-blonde hair had never been trimmed, falling in ratty locks to the small of Willow’s back. Sara had cut through her tears until Willow resembled an urchin child from Les Misérables. Willow had been so brave that Sara decided to chop her own. The next day, she’d spent her pocket money on matching blue hairclips. The girls had worn those butterflies-on-bobby-pins in their hair constantly, until the day Sara lost hers while swimming in the river. She never did find it again.

  ‘Stand still.’ Will’s command, and the sudden touch of his hand on her arm, brought Sara back. Elliott’s snake comment the other night was the first thought to trip her brain. ‘It’s on your hair.’

  ‘What is?’ she said, squealing on the inside, Get it off! Get it off! as though she’d walked into a spider web in the dark.

  ‘Shhh, don’t panic,’ Will whispered. ‘It’s only a butterfly. It’s landed on your hair.’

  Only a butterfly!

  Sara closed her eyes. ‘Is it a blue butterfly?’

  ‘Yes!’ Will sounded surprised. ‘All blue with little yellow spots. Bend down. I’ll try and catch it.’

  ‘No, don’t,’ she ordered. ‘Let it be. It’ll fly away when it’s ready.’

  Moments later, the butterfly lifted, fluttering briefly between her and Will as if giving Sara a glimpse of itself before flying away.

  ‘Hey, what’s with the tears, Sara?’

  ‘I was thinking about Willow just now. This place isn’t helping. Too many memories.’ Sara welcomed Will’s fingers as they weaved through her own and she tightened her grip around them to draw strength. ‘The others were able to leave town afterwards. They wanted to forget and get away from the finger-pointing and guilt. What was forgotten in the process was Willow.’

  ‘Sara, come to me.�
� Will patted his leg and tugged her hand. ‘Sit here.’

  ‘No. I’m too on edge to sit.’

  ‘Edginess is not your problem. You’re too stubborn to sit.’ He yanked her arm, harder this time, so she fell into his lap. Still her eyes barely left the two children screaming and playing on the bridge. ‘I said sit.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Will.’

  ‘Sitting on my lap can’t hurt me. Look at you. You’re the size of a bird. Please, Sara. It stops me having to look up.’ With a gentle tug, Sara relaxed. ‘Now believe me when I tell you, some things you never forget. It took years before I could sit behind the wheel of a car again. But I faced my fears and that let me believe I could do anything. I had a future.’

  ‘I’m obviously not brave like you.’

  ‘Yes you are. You are so brave. Open yourself up to replacing the bad memories with good ones. That’s what I did, with the kids’ help.’

  Sara liked the way Will kept a fatherly eye on the two tiny figures at the centre of the bridge, while wrapping both his hands around Sara’s, holding them to his mouth, the warmth of his breath soothing her.

  ‘I don’t follow, Will.’

  ‘It’s not hard. In the beginning, the kids were too young to understand the accident. All they knew was that cars were bad. One took their mother away. When they got older, cars became something to fear. I had to make the car less scary. We started going on drives together and exploring different places, having fun. It was a matter of replacing the fear of cars with good experiences. Over time, I managed to deal with my own bad memories. I know, for you, this bridge is a bad memory. You can change that right now and make it a good one, if you want to.’

  ‘Tell me how.’

  ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘What?’ She went to stand, pushing back against his chest and straightening her arms until she was looking at Will’s smiling face.

  ‘Hang on. Hear me out.’ He wrapped his arms around the small of Sara’s back and nudged her close again. ‘Let this bridge be the place we kissed and the place I asked you to consider sticking around and getting to know me a little more.’