Tracing Invisible Threads

by C. Fonseca

  Maybe it was wise to slow things down with Eleanor and not get entangled like Pooh Bear searching for the honey pot and getting stuck in the rabbit hole.

  Chapter 19

  Catching the moon from the bottom of the sea

  “You did what?” Louise’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way.” She launched herself onto Alexa’s sofa in a flurry of giggles.

  Alexa lifted her chin and glared at her friend.

  When Louise calmed down and was able to speak again, she said, “You’ve had many adventurous trysts in the past, done some wicked things, but I’ve never known you to make out in your workplace. Not in the library, of all places.”

  “It wasn’t planned, believe me.” Alexa handed Louise a squat tumbler of whiskey and slid into the retro lounge chair across from her friend, tossing her leg over the low-slung arm. She held up her own glass. “Cheers.”

  Louise waved her glass in the air. “Cheers, to you too.”

  Alexa stared into her glass. “I messaged and rang Eleanor after the workshop, but she hasn’t answered. What do you think that means?” She wished she could find the answer within the deep amber liquid.

  “You told her you were with me tonight, and she knows you’ve got that posh event tomorrow evening. She’s just giving you space.”

  “How much time does it take to reply to one little message?” Alexa whined. “Lou, I’m regretting the way I handled things.” She grabbed the cushion from behind her back and tossed it across the room. “It was stupid hurrying her away without making a definite plan to see her again. That damn Professionalism in the Workplace workshop had already started. I wasn’t thinking straight; I had to run.”

  Louise spluttered and hastily put down her glass. “I hope you learnt something useful at the workshop. Was ‘How to lure a woman into a study room and seduce her,’ one of the topics?” She waved her index finger at Alexa.

  “I honestly didn’t expect to see her. Especially catching her in action, rescuing that little boy from the stairwell.”

  Louise rolled her eyes. “So, you just happened to be in the same place at the same time?”

  Alexa crossed her arms defiantly. “Purely coincidental. She literally pouted when she walked away from me, with her shoulders slumped.” Alexa massaged her temples. “Do you think she’s annoyed with me? Why hasn’t she replied?”

  “Don’t you think you’re over-reacting?” Louise pointed at the cuckoo clock on the wall. “It’s only seven fifteen.”

  “It’s hours since I messaged her. Something could have happened. It could be her father; he’s had heart surgery not long ago.” Alexa twisted her fingers in her hair until her scalp hurt.

  “Alexa, it’s not like you to let a woman get under your skin like this.” Louise raised her eyebrows. “It must have been some kiss.”

  Alexa rubbed her forehead. “Hell, yeah.” It wasn’t just the whiskey making her face flush.

  Louise slid back on the sofa and crossed her legs. “You could have invited her over tonight. I wouldn’t have minded.”

  “Sure.” Alexa shook her head. She didn’t want to think about what may have happened if Eleanor had come over. Actually, she did want to think about it. But now wouldn’t be appropriate.

  Louise smirked. “Well, two is company, and three’s just a drag.”

  “Stop it. Come on, you’re helping me choose my outfit for tomorrow evening.” Alexa pulled her friend off the sofa, spinning her around and marching her to the stairs. “It has to be something semi-formal, but I’m wearing low heels—it could be a long night.”

  They climbed the staircase into Alexa’s bedroom, and she headed straight for the walk-in wardrobe, hoping to push the topic of Eleanor from her mind for a while. She gestured to the clothes she’d earlier selected for consideration.

  “Are you leaning towards a dress or suit?” Louise perched on the three-legged stool in the corner.

  “A jumpsuit or wide leg pants will be more comfortable.”

  Louise rifled through the garments. “Hmm… No. Maybe,” she said, sliding the coat hangers across the rack.

  “Hey, why have you rejected that floral jacquard blazer?” she asked with an exaggerated pout.

  Louise put her hands on her hips. “Is it a 60s Motown party at the Governor’s residence?”

  Alexa placed her own hands on her hips, mirroring Louise’s stance. “Nope.”

  Louise picked out a couple of items and lay them across the bed. “This might do it.” She held up the black velvet jacket Alexa had bought at the second-hand shop. “Nice. Very dashing and elegant, with just a hint of steampunk. You can wear it without a shirt over this sleeveless silk crop. These super fine wool suit pants will go nicely.” She tugged at the hem of the trouser leg. “I like how they just flare. They’ll show off your long legs,” she said, waving the trousers in the air. “You’ll just need a bit of extra bling.”

  “Okay, good choice. I could wear Mum’s peridot drop earrings.” Alexa raced to the far end of the wardrobe to extract them from her jewellery box. It was an important event, and wearing her mother’s earrings made her feel warm inside. Standing in front of the dresser mirror, she tucked her hair behind her ears and slipped in a single earring. “What do you think?”

  “Perfect.” Louise stroked the matching ring on Alexa’s index finger. “It’s a set. They bring out the green in your eyes.”

  “That’s it then. Thanks for your help. Problem solved.” She headed back to the wardrobe to put away the earrings. She ran her fingers lightly over the jewellery box, her chest tightening as she thought of her mother.

  Louise called, “How are you dealing with the news about your Chinese heritage?”

  Alexa plonked down on the edge of the bed, grateful for the distraction. “You know me, Lou; you’re my oldest friend. I believe we should embrace our heritage.” She hesitated, remembering how appallingly the Hamptons had treated Mei-Li and her family. “Obviously, there are some situations when you might not be proud of your ancestors. Gran is a quarter Chinese, and I am one-sixteenth. How could I have not known that? I’m a historian for crying out loud.” Alexa curled her fingers into her upturned palms. “I’m different now, and yet I’m the same. Of course, I want to find out more about my great-great-grandmother’s life and everything that happened.”

  “There’s a lot to take in,” Louise said wide-eyed. “First, Eleanor told you what she’d discovered, and then Grace revealed the family’s long-kept secret. You poor thing; a double shock.”

  “It sure was.” Alexa nodded. “It also set off a raft of unanswered questions in my head. How did Mei-Li become a herbalist? Who were her parents? What were their lives like? Why did they come to Australia?” She looked up at Louise. “They must have endured so much racism. I have to find out more, but what if—I mean, as a historian, I’m supposed to welcome the truth and the facts—but what if there are even more secrets? Things Gran doesn’t even know about. Horrible things.”

  “It’s a challenge. There are risks,” Louise said. “But you’re right. You’d never shrink from the truth.” She squeezed Alexa’s hand. “Eleanor set things in motion by digging up the information, which in turn finally gave Grace the courage to speak. You must be itching to do more research. Where on earth are you going to start?”

  “Phyllis from the Historical Society in Castlemaine is going to suss out whatever information she can about the Kwan family.” Alexa returned the clothes they’d rejected back to the wardrobe, using the private space to pull the phone from her pocket and check for messages from Eleanor. Nothing.

  Alexa rested her elbow on the top of the dresser and said, “The Castlemaine court records about Mei-Li’s case should be relatively easy to find. It’s going to be harder to discover details about the woman who died though, especially if her family had requested the findings from the coroner’s inquest be closed. That is, if the
re was a coroner’s investigation at all.”

  Louise hung the coat hangers with Alexa’s outfit for tomorrow on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. “You need someone with legal knowledge.”

  Alexa sighed. “Hopefully, that will be Eleanor.”

  “Hopefully,” Louise repeated. “At least Grace has shed her burden. The poor woman had been carrying the secret for so long, and now it’s up to you to find out what actually happened. Kelly and I will help however we can. But Eleanor’s your best bet with the legal stuff.” She winked.

  “Hmm, maybe.” Alexa checked her phone again. “Nothing,” she said despondently. “Why hasn’t she replied?”

  Louise offered no answers, just shrugged her shoulders.

  “What the hell.” Alexa kicked the corner of the dresser with her bare toe. “Ouch.” She winced and rubbed her foot. “I can’t sit around here waiting for Eleanor to call or message. Didn’t you say you were in the mood for pho and spring rolls?”

  Louise grinned. “Yes, please. Aren’t we lucky you live within a stone’s throw of some of the best Vietnamese food outside Hanoi?”

  Alexa grabbed her bag and threw the phone inside. “Come on, I know just the place. No point sitting around moping. Let’s go get some food and chill with a cold beer. It’s my shout. I can’t thank you enough for bringing my car safely back to the city.”

  * * *

  The irritating jangling of her phone alarm woke Eleanor with a start. She yawned, rolled over, and took a deep breath. The rich fragrance of frangipani and jacaranda blossoms wafted through the air, and of course, Alexa came to mind. “Where am I? That’s right, I’m in Queensland.”

  The editor of Global Conscience had called late yesterday afternoon with an amazing offer of work, and Eleanor had eagerly accepted. She’d had barely enough time to talk to her father about the out of the blue request and seek his blessing, gather her camera gear, laptop, and a few clothes, before the Uber driver arrived.

  She’d been at Melbourne Airport ready to board the flight to Far North Queensland when Alexa’s brief message came through.

  All it said was, Are you free this weekend?

  The perfunctory text put Eleanor in a grumpy mood, and she hadn’t known how to respond. So, she hadn’t. Alexa could wait.

  By the time she’d disembarked in Cairns and checked into her hotel, it was nearly midnight. Too late to return the message or missed calls. Or at least that’s the reason she’d given herself.

  She should call Alexa now but instead came up with a handful of excuses why she shouldn’t. Alexa could have her hands full with Louise. Or she might use that sharp straightforward tone that turned Eleanor inside out. She wouldn’t call, just yet.

  Putting aside thoughts of Alexa, Eleanor shook herself out of her funk, which gave way to a rush of excitement. She was on assignment in the tropics.

  With a hastily prepared plate of vegemite on toast, slices of pineapple and mango, and a pot of strong coffee, she sat out on her balcony shaded by palms. A pang of guilt nudged at Eleanor’s conscience, and she finally gave replying to Alexa’s text serious consideration.

  Recalling the way Alexa had hurried her out of the study room after their meltingly sensual tryst, even faster than she’d dragged Eleanor in there, Eleanor crushed the piece of toast in her hand. Alexa hadn’t made time in her busy schedule to meet up with Eleanor again after that—until now. Are you free this weekend? Eleanor gritted her teeth. What did that even mean? Did Alexa assume Eleanor would be available at her convenience?

  Alexa either surmised Eleanor would head back to the UK when her father fully recovered, or she thought their fledgling connection was destined to be a fling. Was a fleeting connection all Alexa wanted?

  Eleanor grabbed a slice of mango and popped it into her mouth. She licked the sticky yellow juice from her lips and slurped the sweet fibrous pulp from her fingers. For now, a fling would be better than nothing, but that’s not what Eleanor hoped for or wanted. So, what did she want?

  Despite her annoyance, Eleanor wanted Alexa in her life. That was a no-brainer. She replied to Alexa’s message, explaining where she was and why, adding she’d be back mid-week, and asked if they could catch up the following weekend.

  Her phone rang. Alexa?

  Eleanor reached for the tea towel, wiped her hands, and with a tingle of anticipation picked up the phone. She looked at the caller ID. It was Max, Global Conscience’s editor. She sighed.

  “Good morning, Max.”

  “Good. I presume you’ve arrived safely,” he said. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor stood up and stretched lazily in the warm air. She glanced out across the palm fringed foreshore and the crystal-clear swimming pool sparkling in the bright sunshine. “Yes, thank you, Max. It’s perfect, but I can’t wait for the next leg of the journey.”

  * * *

  The JetRanger helicopter skirted above miles of golden sandy beaches, pockets of lush rainforest, and rocky headlands before heading away from the city of Cairns and the mainland and entering another universe. Eleanor’s stomach lurched as the pilot suddenly manoeuvred lower, levelled out and the ocean went from mottled turquoise, then cerulean, to a paler blue. A thrill ripped through her at the spectacular sight. They hovered above a group of islands, fringing reefs and keys, gliding over varied hues, shades, and shapes that were like sparkling jewels in the vast sea.

  Eleanor stared out of the window trying to grasp the sheer magnitude and the exquisite beauty of the Reef. It was breathtaking and hard to believe that what she could see below was only a small part of the entire coral reef system that stretched for two thousand, three hundred kilometres. Eleanor couldn’t believe the magazine was paying her to be here—even if she did plan to donate most of her earnings to the Reef campaign.

  Over the long weekend, one of her assignments would be to photograph the Save the Reef campaign’s celebrity guests and their activities on the island during the filming of a documentary. On the final day, she would accompany the journalist interviewing the Traditional Owners who held the rights and interests of the Great Barrier Reef World Heritage Area. She was especially looking forward to that.

  Eleanor peered out of the chopper window. Having a bird’s eye view on the flight to the island was definitely a bonus.

  Raising her camera, she clicked off a series of shots. She bit the inside of her cheek in concentration, wanting to do this natural wonder justice. The structure of the aircraft limited her view, so she positioned the Leica carefully, avoiding reflections from the cabin’s rear window.

  “Sorry we had to fly you out here in such a rush. Thanks for making yourself available on crazy short notice,” Dylan, the event co-ordinator, shouted above the noise of the rotor blades. He scratched at his clean-shaven chin. “Our main photographer severely sprained his ankle yesterday afternoon, and there is absolutely no way we’d be able to cover the event kicking off today without you. We have celebrities who’ve given up their time and money to be part of the doco. Global Conscience has to maximise its coverage.”

  Eleanor knew this already. “I’m so sorry he injured himself,” she said, turning back to stare out of the window. She couldn’t stop the prickles of excitement that ran up her spine at the prospect of working again.

  Lifting her camera back up to her eye, she zoomed in. The most magnificent water with almost opal-like colours spread out beneath her—emerald green in the sunlight, like Alexa’s eyes—showing their palest, purest tints. She sighed heavily, her breath fogging the camera display.

  As the helicopter tilted to the left, Eleanor clutched her seatbelt, steadying herself. Her response to Alexa had been vague, but for the next few days, the job had to be her focus. In any case, she’d been warned there was no mobile signal on the island, so they wouldn’t be able to communicate. She supposed there might be some benefits to staying in the pres
ent moment; it would certainly keep her mind from wandering to starry-eyed thoughts of Alexa too often.

  Dylan tapped her on the forearm. “Look ahead, we’ll be on the island in a few minutes. Serina, our journo, is already there, and she’ll brief you. You’ve worked with us before; you know the drill.”

  Eleanor gave him the thumbs-up. She was no Jacques Cousteau. Her role was to record the filming of the documentary, sponsored by Global Conscience, and the activists who were campaigning to save the reef due to the Australian Government’s failure to respond to climate change. How devastating it would be if humanity allowed this unique coral ecosystem to be lost forever. Eleanor was fortunate to be involved in this campaign.

  “You can see the ecoresort now,” Dylan said in a raised voice. “It’s located along the west side. The rest of the island is protected national park with a university research station.”

  Eleanor caught sight of a blinding expanse of white sand and a sprinkling of people dotted along a narrow wooden jetty. A meandering row of thatched roofs was just visible through the palm grove canopy. At the top end of the resort, Eleanor glimpsed a larger crescent-shaped building with wide decks perched right on the beach. An ample swimming pool was surrounded by lush greenery. Nice.

  The helicopter lowered onto the heli pad, and even before the rotor blades calmed, Dylan threw open the cockpit door. Pointing to the hut where a dark-haired woman in brightly coloured pants and a flowing white shirt stood waving her arm, he shouted, “Serina is here…she’ll show you to your accommodation etcetera. Nice having you with us, Eleanor. Enjoy your stay. I’ve got to run.” He grabbed his bag and straw hat, leapt out of the helicopter, and sprinted in the opposite direction.