Winter Beginnings

by Elise K. Ackers

  ‘Rowan started a fight?’ It seemed so unlikely, so out of character. Anxiety trebled Dean’s heart rate.

  ‘It floored us too,’ Lana said.

  Some hated it, but as a single father of two young kids, Dean was often grateful that everyone knew so much about everyone else in this town. The tight-knit community could be suffocating some days, but then there were days when familiarity saved everybody a lot of time and confusion. Rowan’s teachers knew him well enough to know that this was extraordinary.

  ‘I’m on my way,’ he said, already hurrying into the office. He ended the call and shoved his phone deep into the pocket of his jeans, then snatched up his keys and wallet. Minutes later, he was parking on the street in front of the school.

  He moved fast through the gate, over the frost-burned grass and into the main building. Very little had changed since his time at the school. A different generation of artists was responsible for the colourful pictures stuck on classroom windows, and school bags were now cluttered on long, low shelves instead of on the floor against the wall, but the Year Ones were still in the northern-most classroom, and Mr Crawley still taught Year Five in the classroom opposite. Dean had been standing under Mr Crawley’s Ford Falcon in the garage less than twenty minutes ago.

  Lana stood from behind the desk when Dean reached the reception area. She hurried forward, gently squeezed his arm then steered him towards the principal’s office. ‘Everyone’s waiting for you.’

  ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Ben and his mum too.’

  ‘Great. Thanks, Lana.’

  She knocked briskly, then Dean stepped inside.

  His eyes found his son first. Rowan was sitting on the nearest chair, his face screwed up with indignation, annoyance and … something else.

  When Rowan’s arms were crossed like they were now, Dean couldn’t get anything out of him.

  This was Rowan. Whenever something bothered him, he became silent and withdrawn. He’d been mute for days after his mother had passed away. It seemed impossible that he would wake up today, suddenly a fighter. And was it likely that he would choose the enormous kid sitting beside him as his first opponent?

  The boy was a head taller than Rowan, wider across the shoulders and waist, and a few years older. Yet he was the one gingerly touching a bruise under his left eye, and Rowan seemed to be nursing little more than a temper.

  ‘Mr Foster,’ Principal Jessica Harris said from where she sat behind her well-ordered desk. ‘Thanks for coming so quickly. This is Benjamin and his mother Ms Jaye.’

  Dean looked away from the boys towards the face of furious maternal instinct.

  Alice Jaye, it seemed, finally had something to say.

  Chapter 2

  There was a lot to be said for silence. Dean was a big fan of it. It had the power to unravel things—like secrets—and it created the space to acknowledge others. But when his son wouldn’t speak and the boy he’d struck wouldn’t tell his side of the story, Dean, the principal, and Dean’s newest employee, Alice, had been forced to adjourn the meeting. And they were all far from satisfied.

  Another student had told a teacher that Rowan had hit Ben for no reason. The bigger boy had been on the oval near the roadside fence, and Rowan had run the length of the field to reach him. Rowan had shouted something, Ben had said something back, and Rowan had made his point with a fist to the cheek.

  No-one had overheard what had been said and now the boys couldn’t seem to lift their eyes from the floor.

  Outside the principal’s office, Dean touched his fingers to the back of Rowan’s shoulder and steered him aside. The kids were getting sent back to class but he had a few things to say first.

  Rowan allowed himself to be led to a corner and looked up when his father dropped to his haunches.

  His eyes level with his son’s, Dean sighed. ‘Ro, you hit a kid. When have you ever hit anyone?’

  Rowan, predictably, didn’t answer. His grey eyes were shining and his brown hair was a tangle of curls and knots, so much like his uncle’s. Ethan reborn.

  ‘I know something big happened,’ Dean continued. ‘It must have for you to do that; but it almost doesn’t matter, do you hear me? You never resolve anything by hitting a person. We’re going to talk about this more after school and you’re grounded for a week.’

  Misery and fury flashed across Rowan’s face.

  Dean swallowed and shifted, a complete amateur at disciplining his son. Rowan had rarely needed it before today.

  ‘Tell Toby he can’t come over this afternoon. And don’t drag your feet when the bell rings, come straight to the garage.’

  Rowan nodded. A single tear dropped onto the top of his shoe. Dean shuffled a little to the left, shielding Rowan’s distress. Rowan lifted his shoulder and pushed his cheek against his shirt.

  They were next to the sick bay, and the scent of antiseptic cream made Dean think of grazed knees, cut fingers and bee stings. Dean’s best friend, Cal, and Ethan had always been in the sick bay when they’d been at school. Everyone Dean was closest to had mischief as their middle name. Was it inevitable then, that the next generation would live up to this namesake?

  His daughter Nina hadn’t got there yet. Maybe she never would. He could only hope.

  When he turned, there was only Alice standing in front of the admin desk. He patted Rowan’s shoulder as a signal to return to class. When the sound of Ro’s shuffling joggers faded, Dean walked over to Alice and tried to think of the right thing to say.

  ‘Rowan will apologise to Ben, and he’ll never touch him again.’

  Alice pushed a hand from her forehead to the nape of her neck. A bobby pin fell from her hair and pinged on the linoleum between them. Standing close, beneath harsher lighting than that of his office and garage, Dean noticed new things about the woman who’d seemed so unflappable not so long ago.

  Her hair was coloured blonde but with a finger’s length of sandy regrowth. Her clothes, although pretty, weren’t expensive. There were scuffs on her heels and bags under her eyes. She no longer looked as … put together.

  ‘Big day for you,’ he said, and smiled weakly.

  Alice pressed her lips together and nodded. When she opened her mouth, she couldn’t seem to find the words. There was a sudden vulnerability about her that contradicted the strength she had shown in her interview.

  Dean was thinking how to comfort her when his classic-rock ringtone interrupted the moment. He apologised and took a step back as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Ethan spoke first, not waiting for a greeting. ‘I’m here and you’re not. The reception desk joinery’s getting finished up and Marty tells me you ran out like a man on fire. What’s going on? Are the kids okay?’

  ‘Everyone’s fine. Do me a favour?’

  ‘You want me to drink the Coke in your fridge? Mate, done. Like, five minutes ago.’

  Dean smiled. ‘Can you call John Potter and tell him Toby can’t come over this arvo? I’ll explain later. Apologise for me.’

  He could tell Ethan was concentrating on two things at once—his brother’s answer was clipped and distracted. ‘Call John, no Toby. You’ll explain it to me later and you’re sorry.’

  ‘I’ll explain it to John later.’

  ‘Not before you explain it to me. See you when I do.’

  Dean said goodbye and ended the call. Turning back to Alice, he said, ‘Rowan’s grounded.’

  This news appeared to please her, but it didn’t erase the worry in her eyes or lift the downturn of her mouth. She nodded.

  ‘Listen, I don’t know how to ask this without sounding rude …’ He took a moment to further collect his thoughts, then said, ‘Does this happen to Ben a lot? I mean, is he the type to provoke someone?’

  ‘Are you implying that black eye is his fault?’

  ‘No, but it’s often the kid who fights back who gets caught.’

  The change in Alice’s expression suggested it was lucky that Jess chose that moment to step ou
t of her office. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her tone light and friendly, ‘I had to grab a call. So how are we feeling about this? What are the next steps?’ She waited, brows lifted.

  Grudgingly, Dean told her about the looming father-to-son talk and removal of privileges.

  Alice said nothing.

  ‘Ben may have been the victim in this instance,’ Jess said to her, interpreting her silence, ‘but without knowing what was said between the boys, it’s impossible to determine if Rowan was provoked. I encourage you to dig a little deeper, and be prepared to learn that Ben may share some of the blame for today.’ When Alice’s eyes narrowed, Jess held up a hand, palm towards her. ‘I’m not saying that he does, I’m just urging you not to discount the possibility. Now, these boys don’t have much cause to spend time together—’ Dean and Alice glanced at each other ‘—but nevertheless they should settle this. It’s too small a school for two students to be at odds with each other.’

  Dean was keen to leave. It didn’t seem fair that he was getting a longer lecture than his son had, and keeping his expression inscrutable in the face of Alice’s incessant stare was starting to give him a bit of muscle strain. Too much more of this and Dean was probably going to misbehave as well.

  They were released back to their lives ten long minutes later.

  Despite the sombre, no-nonsense expression Lana had donned for the occasion, she waved as Dean passed. She would hurry in to speak with Jess the moment the parents were gone, Dean had no doubt, but he offered her a small smile anyway.

  Gossip couldn’t be helped in Denman.

  It wasn’t until he was striding along the front path that he realised he’d thoughtlessly followed Alice in the wrong direction. She noticed when she unlocked her car and he halted by the gate.

  ‘You walk here?’ she asked tightly.

  He shook his head. ‘This going to be okay tomorrow?’

  She levelled him a look that dropped his blood temperature a degree or two. ‘I’m not giving up my job because your kid’s a bully. See you at eight-thirty.’ She opened her door, got in the car and accelerated away from the school, giving Dean no chance to respond to her infuriating reply.

  He swivelled on the heel of his boot and strode across the oval to where his car was parked on the adjacent street. It was certainly going to be interesting having Alice Jaye working at Foster’s Garage. With any luck, she would prove to be the strong, silent type he’d thought he’d recognised during her interview, because the last thing he needed was someone else telling him how and where he was screwing things up.

  Not when he was doing the best he could.

  * * *

  Ethan’s coffee was strong enough to make his heart dance. He drank it black, with more sugar than was good for him, and curled his palms and fingers around the warm mug. It had been another frosty day and there was a predicted overnight low of one degree to look forward to. Now that he wasn’t moving he was struggling to keep warm, especially because Dean had been too preoccupied to turn the heater on when he’d got home with the kids.

  Ethan stood at the kitchen sink with his brother, staring out the window at the darkening sky and the two small silhouettes by the creek.

  ‘Nothing,’ Dean said, for what had to be the fifth time. ‘We sat there for over an hour and he said nothing.’

  Ethan privately thought Dean wasn’t giving Rowan enough credit. Ro was his father’s son. If there was something to be said, Dean could always whittle it down to a short sentence or two, and if there was something he didn’t want to say, he clammed right up.

  Apples falling from trees, and all that.

  Nina squealed and clambered onto one of the two high-backed wooden deck chairs outside. She jumped up and down a few times, then leapt back to the grass. Rowan chased her to the creek’s edge, feigned pushing her in, then darted around the trunk of the willow tree they were playing beneath.

  ‘When I finally gave up he went straight out to Nina,’ Dean said, his gaze following the kids. His knuckles were white from gripping the counter edge.

  ‘Maybe to distract himself?’ Ethan volunteered. He always felt ill-equipped to offer advice or insight—he wasn’t a father, and if he were he wouldn’t be in Dean’s league. Dean had done a spectacular job raising those kids with Bree, and he hadn’t dropped the ball since losing her, despite Dean’s opinion to the contrary. Rowan and Nina wanted for nothing that Dean could provide. Ethan said, ‘I mean, he had a mate coming over, like you said. Maybe Nina’s taking his mind off being grounded?’

  ‘Maybe. But he seemed almost desperate to talk to her.’

  The brothers lapsed into silence for a moment, until Dean said, ‘You reckon Neenz is involved somehow?’

  Ethan caught his first response and shelved it. He went with his second, less emotive one. ‘Did anyone mention her being involved?’

  How could she be? Nina was charismatic, generous, and too damn cute for Ethan’s resolve. If he ever did say no to her, it was temporary at best. Surely she wasn’t the reason behind two boys fighting?

  ‘No,’ Dean conceded, ‘but something’s off.’

  ‘You don’t think …’ Ethan turned away from the window and leaned against the counter, his eyes on the many pictures and photographs stuck on the fridge. ‘I mean, Ro did lose it a bit a few years back. There was that one time he yelled at Nina and caused quite a scene.’

  Bree had just died, and Nina had accidentally broken one of her mother’s necklaces. She’d been wearing over a dozen of them at the time, and Rowan had upset her when he’d demanded she take the others off. It had been a tearful, angry scene, one which had taken both of the brothers to resolve.

  Dean thought for some time before speaking. ‘He didn’t physically hurt her, though. That’s not in his nature.’

  Ethan glanced sidelong at Dean’s pensive face, at his lowered brows and compressed lips, and guessed what was coming.

  ‘At least, it wasn’t until this morning,’ Dean continued.

  ‘Maybe this was about Bree too?’ said Ethan. ‘With what’s happening tomorrow, his mum’s bound to be on his mind. What if he’s not as okay as we thought, you know? Maybe this is the first sign that he’s holding a lot of stuff in.’

  Ethan hadn’t known Bree that well, but all week his mood had nose-dived whenever he thought of what was coming tomorrow. He’d wondered if it was even a good idea, but it wasn’t his place to ask. If Dean and his kids wanted to celebrate Bree’s birthday, that was their prerogative. Ethan would be there in whatever capacity they needed, and then he’d find comfort in Sam’s arms. Even though they’d been married for less than a year, Ethan had loved Samantha for about half his life; the thought of losing her did painful, blistering things to his heart. He couldn’t guess how Dean managed to keep getting up every morning, and he hoped he’d never find out for himself.

  Dean nodded again. Ethan had given him new things to think about.

  Sensing it was time for a subject change, Ethan turned the topic to something he was infinitely more knowledgeable about: renovation.

  ‘So with the warehouse,’ he began, ‘I think you’re overreaching. I’ve said it a dozen times and it’s too late now anyway, because we’ve built the damn thing, but I can’t visualise smart use for that space. What are you going to do with it, short of using it as a more secure place to park your muscle cars and classics? Why won’t you tell me? Are you branching out?’

  If Dean expanded the business in a significant way, it would ease Ethan’s conscience. As both carpenter and project manager, Ethan was getting paid for work that to his mind seemed unnecessary, unless business was doing better than Dean was letting on. ‘Are you kitting out for wheel alignment?’

  Dean laughed through his nose and pushed away from the kitchen bench. He tapped an index finger to his temple. ‘No. It’s all up here.’

  ‘More car hoists?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I could have reduced the ceiling height by half!’

  ‘I need
it that high.’

  ‘For what?’ Ethan threw his hands out, palms up, imploring his brother for more than a scrap of information. The project was nearing completion and Ethan was no wiser to its purpose than he had been at the beginning.

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  Ethan sighed. ‘Okay.’ He’d tackle the subject again when Dean wasn’t so introspective. ‘Why are we doing the birthday thing tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Fiona isn’t available after work.’

  That clinched it, Ethan thought. They were hardly going to celebrate Bree’s birthday without her mother.

  He nodded and rolled his shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘I better be getting home. I didn’t tell Sammy I was going to be here so long. Is this under wraps, or what?’ He lifted his chin in Rowan’s direction. When Dean shook his head, Ethan headed in the direction of the front door. ‘Until tomorrow then.’

  And all the things tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter 3

  Raindrops rolled down the window like tears. The little bit of morning sky that Dean could see from bed was bruised with thunderclouds, and the wind sounded like the wail and whistle of lost souls. He closed his eyes and wondered whether he was happy that the world mirrored the grey within him, or whether it would have been nicer to celebrate Bree’s birthday under the golden sun she’d loved so much.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t see this day. It would come and go without her bell-like laugh and her smiling eyes, and the only people who would care about the weather were the people undoubtedly on their way to the house right now.

  Bree would have been thirty-four today if she hadn’t died senselessly two-and-a-half years ago. She’d slipped on soap in the shower and broken her neck.

  A part of Dean had died that day too. His heartache might have poisoned his body if it hadn’t been for his son and daughter; thanks to them, he’d endured. Rowan and Nina had grown thirty-odd centimetres between them since their mother had passed, and they were used to her being gone now. Dean was too, in a lot of ways.