Time Will Tell

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Thanks,’ she said and plucked a couple out. She wiped at her eyes. She was relieved when Jake began speaking.

  ‘The way I’ve learnt to deal with stress in my life – and believe me there have been plenty of hairy times – is to figure out what you have some control over and what you don’t.’

  Emily nodded, dabbed at her dripping nose and tried not to sniff.

  ‘Then you start making decisions around the things you can control and put the other stuff out of your mind until it arises. You reduce the number of things bothering you by putting those you have no control over into a compartment in your brain and filing it under “not my problem”. For example, you have no control over what people think of you and your relationship with your ex-husband. So you have to make a conscious decision to take it out of the pile of things to worry about.’

  Emily looked down into her almost empty cup. In her lap she clutched a wad of wet, soggy tissues. She wanted to get up and put them in the bin, but Jake hadn’t finished.

  ‘Then take the subdivision; that’s something you can control – in part. You’ve made the decision to go ahead. Now you need to get the ball rolling by making enquiries. I bet if you do then you’ll start feeling a lot better about it. Remember, knowledge is power. You might find that things start to fall into place – like maybe the surveying company might want a significant deposit before doing any work and that in turn might help sort out your problem with Centrelink. Seriously Em, I know it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, but things do work themselves out – and usually for the best.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘As for the diamonds, I think you should put all thoughts of them aside. They’ve been there for what, sixty years? Another few won’t matter. I do think that if you are meant to do something with them then the answer will become clear at some point. But if you’re too stressed, you run the risk of missing it. You’re in a better position to listen to your intuition when you’re calm and rational.’

  ‘You’re right. Thanks Jake,’ she said, smiling tearfully at him.

  God, he sounds just like Barbara.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Jake said. ‘Now come on, let’s get this car unpacked,’ he said, getting up.

  Lying in bed later, Emily’s thoughts returned to John’s death. How did she really feel? She was sad for his parents, because although they had their faults, they were human and would be grieving. But she still felt a certain sense of relief at knowing she’d never have to bump into John or some woman he’d shacked up with ever again.

  Shit. What about the funeral?

  Of course she’d have to attend – in a small town everyone attended everyone’s funeral. But would she stand beside his family as if she was still a part of it? Would she be expected to play the part of grieving widow? Could she?

  Way too much to think about. Emily dragged the sheet and light blanket over her head in an effort to block out the thoughts. When that didn’t work, she forced herself to remember Jake’s words about not worrying about the things she couldn’t control.

  And the funeral was definitely something she couldn’t control.

  No, she’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emily was still tossing and turning when her mobile rang beside her. Barbara’s home number was on the display.

  ‘Hi Barbara,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry to call so late, but I thought you’d like to know straight away…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘…about John – the facts, before you start hearing all the rumours that will be flying about already.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You weren’t asleep were you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s just you sound a little vague.’

  ‘Just a lot on my mind. So, tell me what happened.’

  ‘Well it’s a bit odd really, given he must have travelled Rowley Road a million times. Seems he lost it in the gravel on the big bend near the pine trees. Apparently it’s just been graded, so I guess that wouldn’t have helped. He must have been going pretty fast because they said the ute rolled three times before ending the right way up. The bloody idiot wasn’t wearing a seatbelt – if he was they reckon he would have been okay by the looks of the damage to the vehicle, which, as you can imagine, is a total write-off. He was thrown clear, and ended up with his head against a concrete strainer post.’

  ‘Was anyone with him? Was anyone else hurt?’

  ‘No, thank goodness.’

  ‘Was he drunk?’

  ‘David doesn’t think so. Obviously they won’t know for sure until blood test results come back, but David said he couldn’t smell any alcohol. So how are you doing?’

  ‘Fine, I’m fine.’

  ‘I guess it’s understandable you’re a bit quiet, a bit upset. You’ve had quite a shock.’

  Emily felt a stab of annoyance at her friend. Why does everyone think I should be upset? She sighed; she really didn’t have the energy to go through this conversation again tonight.

  But Barbara was her best friend, with whom she could discuss anything, who wouldn’t judge. She took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m glad he’s gone, actually. How terrible is that?’

  ‘I’d say it’s quite understandable, given the way he treated you. To tell you the truth, I’m a little relieved myself.’

  ‘What? Why?!’

  ‘I didn’t want you wasting any more negative energy on that bastard. But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t support you in whatever you felt – whether I agree or not.’

  ‘Thanks Barb.’

  ‘You’re welcome. You’d do the same for me.’

  ‘So you don’t think I’m suddenly going to melt into a puddle of tears? I think Jake does.’

  ‘Well, you might well fall in a heap at some point down the track, but I doubt it will be over John’s death. Actually, you’ll probably be a lot better because of it.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘They do say that getting over a break-up can actually be harder than the death of a partner; with a break-up they remain as a reminder. I’ve heard of psychologists saying that people who’ve lost a loved one seem to recover more quickly than divorcees because of the more obvious break it creates in the phases of their lives.’

  ‘Makes sense. I must admit I’m glad I’ll never have to bump into him or one of his floozies on the street ever again.’ An involuntary, audible yawn escaped Emily’s lips.

  ‘I’d better let you go. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know straight away.’

  ‘No problem. Sleep well.’

  ‘You too. See you.’

  *

  Emily woke the next morning with the disconnected feeling of having dreamt a lot but without sense. She lay on her pillows with her eyes closed, trying to conjure back the remnants. Early in the night she knew she’d dreamt of John – terrifying scenes of their life together; the good, the bad, and the downright ugly – ending with a car wrapped around a large gum tree with her trapped in the passenger’s side.

  She’d woken in fright, sweating, and with her heart racing. A check of the time on her mobile had revealed it was only 3:00 a.m. She’d lain there trying to get back to sleep, trying to think of anything but John, her poor financial situation, what the hell she was going to do with her life, and the many other random thoughts that would pop into her mind if she didn’t keep them at bay.

  But what was it she’d most recently been dreaming? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been about John. She screwed her eyes tighter, trying to search the dark depths of her mind.

  And then it came to her: Jake. She’d dreamt about Jake, hadn’t she? They were at some function together. She remembered how handsome he’d looked in his dark pin-stripe suit. She’d been wearing tailored black pants with a formal wraparound shirt of deep smoky blue-grey silk in almost the exact shade as the diamonds in Gran’s button jar. But why? Where were they? What w
as the event?

  And was he there as her partner or just a supportive friend?

  With a sudden pang, she realised she would really miss him when he said goodbye. Not just his cheery company, but on a deeper level, his companionship.

  Oh God. I’m starting to seriously like him.

  He lives in Melbourne, she heard her rational self say, and the last thing you need is another relationship, especially now. He’s just a friend; it’s only because he’s so nice and you’re vulnerable that you’re getting carried away.

  Stop it!

  Emily sighed. She could tell herself all this, but the ache in the pit of her stomach told her there was no point pretending. It was probably best that he was leaving that morning. Otherwise she might soon be behaving like a lovesick teenager.

  The feeling was familiar; something she hadn’t experienced for many years and hadn’t thought she’d feel again. But she recognised it immediately; the birth of an intense longing that inevitably progressed into never wanting to spend time apart.

  It was the sort of fluttering triggered by the most obscure things; the way someone held their head when deep in concentration or sipped at their mug. The little things that you wanted to watch for the rest of your life. Love.

  Emily didn’t believe in love at first sight; in her mind relationships grew from the inside out as each person got to know and like the other at a soul and values level.

  Love happened when there was a strong enough connection that you could enjoy the silence together without the need to entertain, as well as have a healthy debate where each could express their own opinion freely.

  It was also about knowing what the other person needed and happily giving it – even when it meant a little sacrifice of your own. Well, that was how she thought it should be. It was what she’d felt in the beginning with John.

  So, really, what did she know? She’d been conned by her own feelings before. No, she couldn’t allow that to happen again.

  John! Oh bloody hell! She’d have to phone his parents and offer her condolences as soon as a civilised hour for calls arrived. Did they even know yet? Should I be the one to tell them? No, surely the police will do that.

  She hadn’t spoken to or seen the Strattens since the split. Would they blame her; be upset with her? Maybe. People reacted to grief in all sorts of ways. But she’d just have to take it on the chin and remain calm and considerate of what they were going through.

  Emily heard movement in the next room, a door being opened and closed, and then footsteps and the creaking of floorboards. Jake was up and making his way down the hall.

  Ah Jake. She thought of trying to force herself back to the dream in a moment of indulgence. He’d looked very handsome all dressed up in a suit and tie. Not that he didn’t look good in jeans, t-shirt and rough stubble. God, how was she going to face him now? She was bound to turn beetroot red.

  She got up, dragged on her robe and made her way to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, watching him filling the kettle at the sink. Her heart fluttered; she loved seeing him so at home in her house. He turned as she entered.

  ‘Good morning sleepyhead,’ he said, grinning at her.

  Emily grinned back, her heart flip-flopping. She willed her colour to stay neutral. ‘Good morning yourself, early bird.’

  ‘Hope I didn’t wake you.’

  ‘No, been awake for ages. Had the strangest dream,’ she found herself adding.

  ‘Care to share?’

  ‘Not much to tell. You know how dreams are – not really making sense and all over the place.’ Emily felt her colour rise. She tried to will it away by busying herself with getting the breakfast things out.

  Jake put two mugs of coffee on the table and Emily thanked him. They lapsed into silence, unlike the previous morning when they’d chattered non-stop.

  ‘Oh, I texted my mate Anthony last night about finding you a surveyor. He’ll get the ball rolling for you as soon as he can.’

  ‘That’s great. Thanks very much.’ Emily couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. She doubted anything would happen for weeks; everyone was off work for the Christmas/New Year break and most businesses were closed.

  ‘My pleasure.’ Jake paused. ‘Are you okay, Em? You seem awfully quiet? Understandable, I guess, given yesterday’s shock.’

  ‘I’m fine, seriously. It’s just that when I’ve had a really vivid dream it sort of makes me feel weird for a while. I just feel a bit out of kilter.’

  ‘Sort of like you’re stuck between reality and the dream?’ he asked. ‘I get the same thing, though it hasn’t happened to me for ages. So, tell me about your dream. Unless of course it was some erotic fantasy in which I featured.’

  Emily looked up at him and blushed furiously. Jake was grinning cheekily. Was he flirting with her?

  ‘I knew it; I’m just so damned irresistible,’ he said, throwing his arms wide. Emily looked away.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. I did not have an erotic dream about you.’ May as well tell him. ‘But you did feature. Fully dressed. In a suit actually.’

  ‘Really? How very odd. Must have been a very important occasion to get me dressed up. Where were we? We were together, I take it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Emily found herself relaxing. ‘I think it was the opening of something. For all I know, it’s a sign I’m to open a B&B or something,’ she said with a laugh and took a deep slug of her now lukewarm coffee.

  ‘This place would be great for a B&B. As I said the other night, you could fill in the side verandah for ensuites off the rooms on that side.’

  ‘Seriously, though,’ she continued, ‘do you think dreams are there to tell us things – guide us?’

  ‘God, that’s one of those meaning-of-life questions,’ he said with a laugh. ‘And it’s way too early in the morning for that conversation. But I do think you’d be a great host – you’re a fantastic cook, and great company.’

  ‘Thanks Jake, I’ve loved you being here.’

  ‘And I’ve loved being here.’

  They fell into a slightly awkward silence.

  ‘I guess you need to decide just how much you like having visitors – every week or weekend, not just here and there,’ Jake finally said, breaking the silence.

  ‘Hmm. You don’t think I’m too far from town – off the beaten track?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Some people might see that as a virtue – it’s all in the marketing.’

  ‘But would anyone want to be so far from a major city or town?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Of course they would – to see birds, trees, taste your cooking, not to mention your wonderful jam. God, Em, it’s what the sea change, tree change, thing is all about – people escaping from their life and re-charging, if only for just a few days.’

  ‘There’s actually a retired couple, the Havelocks, setting up a B&B the other side of town.’

  ‘Competition is healthy. And you might be going for different clientele. I imagine an older couple might want older, retired, people visiting. You just choose your market and then target it correctly. For instance, you make it more appealing for middle-aged executives rather than families with snotty-nosed kids. Not that all kids are snotty-nosed,’ he quickly added.

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t even thought about who. I’m not sure I’d want children running through the place.’

  ‘Well, that’s important to know from the start – it’ll help you formulate your plan.’

  ‘It’s not that I dislike kids, I just don’t have any experience with them.’

  ‘I know what you mean. My cousin Milly’s kids are pretty good, but just one day with them is enough; I’m always pleased to hand them back. It’s exhausting.’

  ‘So you really think a B&B could work here? I’m not too far out of town?’

  ‘You just have to make it worth the effort, that’s all. The more cellar doors and antique shops that open up in the area, the more people who will be looking for nice accommodation. And I’m sorry, but the motel in town wo
n’t really cut it. I’m sure it’s clean and comfortable, but it’s hardly a dream getaway. I checked them out online before I rang you, actually.’ Now he looked a little sheepish.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wanted to visit, but wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me staying here on my own. And being Christmas and everything… Anyway, they were booked out all weekend.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad they were booked out; I’ve enjoyed having you here. I’m going to miss you.’ Emily hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it was too late.

  Next moment Jake’s hand was across the table and over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Emily looked up at him.

  ‘I’m going to miss you too,’ he said.

  She tried to read his expression. Was it just friendly, was he teasing, or did he seem slightly sad too?

  ‘Oh, look at the time. I’d better get going.’ Jake leapt up, breaking the spell and the silent gaze before it could get awkward again.

  He collected their bowls, spoons and mugs, and carried them to the sink. Emily followed him as he left the kitchen, collected his small suitcase and strode towards the front door. She felt a pang of sadness watching his back. She had always hated goodbyes.

  They hugged on the verandah; Jake, a head taller, with his chin near her hair.

  Then he bent down and ruffled Grace’s ears.

  ‘Look after your mum, there’s a good girl,’ he said to the dog before standing up again. He gave Emily a quick peck on the cheek before skipping down the steps to his car and stowing his suitcase in the boot.

  He got in, turned on the vehicle, and drove away with a wave from the open window.

  Emily continued to stare, long after his car was swallowed up by the trees. Had he lingered just that bit longer than standard friendship? Had he kissed her hair affectionately? Had he held her tighter than when he’d hugged her on arrival?

  Grace’s claws to Emily’s thigh brought her back and she went inside, telling herself the catch in her throat was silly. God, Emily, it’s like you’re seeing your husband off to war or something. Get a grip!

  ‘Such a bloody romantic,’ she said aloud. ‘Come on girl, let’s go find the last of the apricots and make some jam to try and keep our minds off everything.’