by Cathryn Hein
The boys erupted into the room, throwing themselves on Sally, who protested but hugged them anyway and grinned at her husband over their heads. Crouching by the recliner, his hand on the mound containing his unborn child, Davey kissed Karen. She complained about his cold lips but her eyes showed nothing but happiness. Josh’s dad crossed to Michelle and stroked her cheek, murmuring quiet words. She took his hand and clutched it, before turning it over to kiss his palm.
Josh felt a sudden sear of loneliness. Once, he and Bianca would have added their own love to the room, but they’d forgotten that marriages took effort. Their love had slipped away without either seeming to notice, eroded by work and fatigue, a mortgage and, most damaging of all, indifference, until the hollow became too huge to ignore.
He hadn’t tried hard enough.
Not a mistake he was about to make again.
Laughter dragged him from his thoughts. Sally was rising, the boys grasping at her arms as they tried to hold her back, squealing about not wanting to leave, about more footy with Grandpa, Uncle Dave and Uncle Josh. When Sally ignored them, they fell to the floor and grabbed her legs, forcing her to drag them along like human shackles.
Sharing a look with Cameron, Josh picked up a squirming Jack while Cam took care of Cooper. The boy whooped in delight as he hoisted him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, backed him up to his grandmother and bent his knees to lower Jack down for a kiss.
‘Say goodbye to Grandma.’
Wet, lip-smacking noises ensued as Jack enthusiastically kissed his grandmother goodbye. Michelle ordered him to be good, before the pair broke into several proclamations of how much they loved one another.
He and Cam carried the boys to the car and strapped them in.
‘You heard the latest plan?’ Cam asked.
‘No.’ Though he’d tried a couple of times, Josh hadn’t been able to get Karen and Sally alone. Between lunch and the kids and Michelle’s flapping ears, it had been too hard.
‘Sal’s found some woman from Adelaide who’s had a double mastectomy and reconstruction. Came down and talked at some support group she sat in on. Lifted her top up and showed off her new boobs. Sal reckons if it weren’t for the scars you wouldn’t know. So now Karen wants to work out a way to get her back to talk to Michelle.’
Josh looked to the front door and stairs, where his mum was making her way carefully down, with Tom’s support. ‘Worth a try.’
‘Yeah.’ Cam held Josh’s gaze. ‘I know she’s not my mum, but I love her like one. With my olds in Melbourne, the boys need at least one grandma close. We can’t let her get away with this. It’s not right.’
Josh put his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder and gave a gentle shake of reassurance. ‘We won’t. I promise.’
They’d save her, whether Michelle wanted it or not.
Thirteen
Josh slowed as Bradley Road hooked around the crumbling remains of a lava vent to join Stanislaus Road. Falling dusk cast the contorted spire of stone in gold and black, its outline stark against the backdrop of Em’s cypresses and the imposing slopes of Rocking Horse Hill. He decelerated further for the T-intersection and turned left carefully, alert for potholes and places where the road’s soft edges may have given way.
After the weekend’s warmth, a massive front had swept in Sunday night and dumped unprecedented levels of rain over the next few days on an area conditioned to heavy winter falls. It fell in great swathes, rushed offshore by a south-westerly that brought with it the icy edge of Antarctica.
Many of the district’s rural roads were washed out. Water lay in side gutters and in great ponds across the flat lands to the north. To the south, on Em’s side of town, the ground was woven with endless eroded limestone channels, caverns and sinkholes hidden beneath the sodden soil. There the impact was less visible. But the landscape still appeared to droop when the sun finally reappeared Friday afternoon, albeit weakly.
The rain on his dad’s shed had been deafening at times. Josh was used to loud machinery, but this was endless. After the first day he’d taken to wearing his protective earmuffs even when the machinery was idle.
He turned into Em’s drive and spotted her in one of the paddocks that ran along the base of the hill, cantering helmetless on Lod in the fading light. She waved but made no move to ride towards him. Josh alighted, crouching to greet Muffy who trotted from the paddock to say hello, her paws and muzzle coated in mud.
Josh headed past the stables for a closer look at Em. He used to love watching her ride. There was something deeply erotic about her straight back and long slim legs, the way she controlled those big horses without effort. The first time he travelled to a show to watch her compete, he’d spent most of the day with a hard-on. She appeared like a schoolboy’s wet dream: long shiny black leather boots, a tightly cut coat that showed off her slim waist and emphasised her hips and shoulders, some sort of cravat thing around her throat, and her dark hair knotted in a tight bun at the base of her neck. The effect was austere, upper-class beauty. Untouchable. His.
He regarded her now. Different and yet the same. She still rode with that same fluidity, as if she and the horse were dancing to some tune he couldn’t hear. Her ponytail bounced with each beat of Lod’s elegant canter. Her chin was raised, her shoulders back, hands soft in front, and those long legs that had wrapped around him the previous weekend, guiding Lod with subtle movement.
Arousal tugged, like before. Only this time, he had no true idea where he fitted in her life. All he knew was that he wanted her in his.
She wheeled Lod around and cantered towards him, reining to a walk a few metres away, the horse tossing his head, nostrils blowing from effort.
‘First time I’ve been able to ride all week.’
‘Doesn’t show. He looks good.’
‘He looks fat is what he looks.’
Josh stroked Lod’s forehead, smiling as the horse’s eyes closed and he pressed into Josh’s hand in anticipation of a head rub.
‘It’s getting dark,’ she said. ‘I’ll be a while sorting Lod out yet. Why don’t you wait inside?’
‘I can handle a bit of cold.’
She slid off the horse, Josh admiring the firmness of her rear as she ran the saddle’s stirrups up their leathers. She wore brown suede gaiters over navy jodhpurs. The fabric curved with the line of her body and the jodhpurs’ brown leather insert, shiny from wear, arced from her inner thighs upwards over the taut globes of her bum. A fitted red fleece jacket complemented a get-up that seemed designed not only for riding comfort, but to amplify her sexiness and his arousal.
‘Nice outfit.’
She threw him an amused, sideways look, signalling she remembered the agony she’d once caused him, causing his heart to skip. ‘Nice to see some things haven’t changed.’
‘What can I say?’ he said with a shrug. ‘I like you in breeches.’ He broke into a grin. ‘I don’t mind you out of them either.’
She laughed, the sound warm in the rapidly cooling air, and headed towards the stables, her fingers tangled deep in Lod’s mane.
Josh strode alongside. ‘How was the shop today?’
‘Not too bad. I’ve been busy ordering Father’s Day stock. Pen sets and the like.’
He frowned. ‘I didn’t think you stocked much in that way.’
‘Not a lot. Novelty pens for kids, mainly, but the people who supplied the notebooks – the ones you bought for your mum – have brought out a range. They’re beautiful too. Lacquered in the same jewel colours, some with etching on the barrels, and great quality nibs and ballpoints. I ordered one of the gold and sapphire ones as a present for Samuel.’
‘For Father’s Day?’ said Josh, surprised. He didn’t think Em’s relationship with Samuel was that close. On the few occasions she’d mentioned her mother’s boyfriend it had been more with respect than affection.
‘Yes. He’s been good to Mum. And Felicity, making her feel welcome.’
The mention of Felicity made J
osh’s mouth thin. He glanced at Em, wondering if he should mention his chat with Bianca, but she was staring at the hill with a pensive look on her face and ex-wives didn’t make for good conversation, no matter how amicable the parting.
While Em finished with Lod, Josh wandered off to muck around with Kicki and Cutie, the donkeys bunting him for more each time he tried to leave their paddock.
‘All my animals are turning into sooks,’ said Em, coming to join him and kissing Cutie on her delicate nose. ‘Muffy’s the worst, but these two aren’t much better.’
‘Spring’s coming. Everyone’s looking for affection.’
She smiled. ‘Hence why you’re here.’
Josh focused on Kicki, unable to smile back. He wasn’t here just for sex. He was here for her, and the way she made him feel.
Maybe at the start his motives had been different. He’d been as attracted to her as when he was younger, perhaps even more so. Em was beautiful, classy, intelligent, sensual. She was also a challenge that he’d taken up without thinking. This was the girl who’d humiliated him, who’d left him confused and wracked with doubt. He’d thought he’d be able to control his emotions but there was no way to stopper his memories from their time together. Not the shame and confusion of the end, but the good stuff. The more time he spent with her, the more the old emotions and old dreams were roused until they were resurrected in full. Leaving him more vulnerable than ever.
‘There’s your cooking too,’ he said, trying to keep up a joke that held no humour.
‘I should have guessed your stomach would come into it somewhere.’
They headed towards the gate, trailing donkeys.
She fixed the latch and waggled a finger at Kicki. ‘Don’t even think about escaping tonight. I mean it. Once more and I’ll padlock you in.’
The donkeys swung their heads toward one another, as though sharing a joke, before blinking innocently back at Em, who raised her eyes and let out a long sigh. ‘No one ever listens to me.’
Josh took her hand. ‘I do.’
Her smile beat the sunset for beauty.
‘Poor Chelsea,’ said Em as the wobbling white duck shot across the garden path and streaked toward the veggie patch, squabbling madly. ‘She still hasn’t recovered from Felicity’s visit.’
‘Why Chelsea?’ said Josh, unwilling to let more talk of Felicity spoil the moment. ‘Seems an odd name for a duck.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She just looked like a Chelsea.’
‘Right.’
Em eyed him sideways. ‘If I recall, you once had a dog called Rufus.’
‘He was a red kelpie. What else could he be called?’
The house was snug with the fire when they ventured inside. Em went to the bathroom to wash her hands, and Josh sidled over to her desk, curious about her progress on her White Horse book and her picture of the king.
He scanned the scattered pages, his frown deepening when he didn’t find the drawing. The only pages he could see were covered in faint pencil lines and inked with large, flourished capitals, some in ornate boxes, others surrounded with organic swirls.
His fingers hovered over the desk, the urge to dig strong. He glanced at the hall door and let his hand drop. Any second Em would walk back in and Josh wasn’t about to let himself be discovered riffling through her things. He turned to the window and stared at the shadow-filled garden.
As she worked on dinner, he watched her in the window’s reflection, trying to settle his temper, but the missing king had upset him more than he thought possible. That and the comment about him being here just for a shag.
Still stewing, he sank into the sofa. Em was all the good things in him and also all the worst, and tonight it seemed the worst wanted out.
‘Did you want some music?’ she asked.
‘If you want.’ He hadn’t intended to be so terse, but his mind was still on the absent picture and all the other signals revealing his place in her life.
‘That’s not what I asked, Josh.’
He glanced over. She stood in the kitchen with a cleaver in one hand, a raw chicken on the board in front of her, and a shuttered expression on her face.
‘Sorry,’ he said, standing and heading towards her CD collection. ‘Mind elsewhere.’
‘Your mum?’
He nodded and then hated himself for the lie. He flicked through her shelves, not paying much attention to the titles. It bemused him, the way she lived an almost old-fashioned life. No iPod dock, no enormous flat-screen TV. A laptop that he’d never seen opened. A no-frills mobile that seemed to spend more time on the bench than in her pocket. Just loads of books, CDs and photographs, and a desk filled with ink pens and paintbrushes. Items that told stories and took time to appreciate. The opposite of his life with Bianca, where distraction was everywhere.
Em’s home was designed for communication, a place for love to grow. A place he could see himself living, with her.
The thought pulled him up. Jesus, he was in a bad way. He snapped out a CD and loaded it.
The dark opening of the Foo Fighters’ Down in the Park thudded through the room, causing both Muffy and Em to look up. ‘Interesting choice.’
He wandered over. ‘More interesting that you own the CD. I wouldn’t have thought the Foo Fighters were your thing.’
‘You’d be surprised.’ She returned to her chook dissection. ‘Actually, I have a feeling it’s Trent’s. He never liked what I had and used to bring his own.’
‘Nice of him.’
‘Not really. Although it took me a while to see that.’
Josh leaned against the bench and wished he had a beer. No bloke wanted to hear about a girlfriend’s exes, yet there were things he wanted to know. Whether she’d loved any of them. Or whether they were all stopgaps until someone more suited to the Wallace name came along.
‘Must’ve hurt, breaking up.’
She tugged on a chicken wingtip, raised the cleaver and brought it down, separating the tip from the wing in one easy movement. The meaty part of the wing went into a bowl, the tip into her compost bucket. ‘All break-ups hurt.’
Didn’t he know it. ‘Some more than others.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘The way you just attacked that chook.’
She held his gaze for a moment before dropping it back to the chicken and expertly separating the legs from the body. ‘He left me for a 24-year-old hairdresser, if you must know and, yes, it hurt.’
‘Pride or feelings?’
‘What does it matter? It’s over. That’s all that counts.’ She tilted her head. ‘Or have you heard something to the contrary?’
‘I haven’t heard anything. I wanted to hear it from you.’
‘Why?’
Why indeed. Who knew? He certainly bloody didn’t. All he had was this fear in his gut that he was as disposable as the bloke who’d been before him. ‘No reason. Just curious.’
Her mouth tightened like she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t believe it himself.
The sudden craving to take her to bed, to lay claim to the only part he was certain he had of her – her passion – hooked through Josh’s body. He scratched at his stubble, contemplating the idea. The cleaver rose and fell, its blade whacking through flesh and bone before ending in a savage thunk against the board. He dropped his hand. Perhaps later, when her mood was better.
‘There’s wine in the fridge if you want,’ she said. ‘I forgot to buy beer, sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I should have brought some myself and you’ve been catering for me too much as it is.’ He leaned on his elbows, looking up at her. ‘I’ve been thinking. . . Tomorrow night. How about coming out with me, on a proper date?’
‘A proper date?’
‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘Like normal people. You could come with me to footy, hang around for a few drinks afterwards, then we’ll head back into town to the Arms. Have dinner, some wine. Catch a taxi back here after.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t. Felicity’s coming out tomorrow.’
Josh couldn’t stop the bitterness infecting his voice. ‘And I guess you couldn’t possibly stand up your brother’s precious fiancée for me.’
She put down the cleaver with deliberate slowness. ‘Okay, what’s up?’
He closed his eyes briefly, wishing he hadn’t started any of this. Wishing he’d stopped home where it was safe. Wishing he wasn’t such a frigging coward and could ask how she felt. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing. Just me being a dick.’
‘I thought you said you liked her.’
‘I don’t know her enough to like or dislike. And this isn’t about her anyway.’
Em looked at the cleaver blade and bit her bottom lip. ‘Then what is it about?’
He wanted to say ‘us’. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, but he couldn’t manage any of it. ‘Nothing. Forget I said anything.’
Her voice quietened. ‘You never used to be like this. Before.’ She took a shuddery breath. ‘Before I did what I did.’
That was because before he had certainty. He believed. In her, in them, in a future.
‘It’s what I did, isn’t it? Back then.’
‘No.’ He moved around the bench and wrapped his arms around her stiff body. ‘No. It’s not you. It’s not anything. It’s just me being stupid.’
She kept her face pressed against his shoulder while her arms remained by her side. He stroked her spine, wishing her hands weren’t chicken-coated and she could hold him properly. The shuddery swell of her back as she breathed in made him wonder if she felt as vulnerable as he did. Why else bring up what she’d done like that?
‘Em?’
She looked up.
‘Come to footy with me tomorrow.’
Her gaze softened. ‘You mean like I used to?’
Josh’s breath caught. Like she used to when she was his girl. When she’d stand on the sidelines cheering him on, making him proud. Making him play better. Making him feel like he could do anything as long as she loved him. ‘Like that.’
She smiled her apology. ‘I really can’t. I promised Felicity her first riding lesson. She’s so excited, I can’t let her down. I’m sorry. Another time?’
