“Caitie, life’s so very karmic,” said G. He liked the word. It conjured up images of purity and selflessness for him.
“In many ways, your life was set out for you before you were even born. You’ve obviously now just experienced an insight into something you need to recognize; to cherish and develop. I’m sure your mother’s correct that Rishi did respond to your touch, your energy. You have to now learn from this experience and build on it.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Cait was starting to come down off her previous hyper state and relax.
“It’s called Qi,” Jools added. “Western medical science doesn’t recognize it, but Qi—or a person’s life force, their inner energy—in one form or another is the cornerstone of most Eastern medicine.”
“Caitie, you’ve got unbelievable genes that have been passed on to you through a long line of healers on your maternal side,” said G.
“Being able to touch someone’s soul is a rare gift, so don’t just discard the experience. Instead, learn from it, sweetie. Weave it into your future life, because you’re predestined to be a healer, just like Jools, and her mother, and her mother, for as far back as records go.”
G was constantly amazed by his daughter. She was only twenty-three and just starting out in the world, but in many ways she was so much older, so much wiser, than her years gave her credit for. In G’s eyes, Cait would achieve greatness. Not financial success, as money for Cait was like sand running through her fingers. Rather, Cait would achieve success through helping others. He just knew it.
“Yes Dad, I know, you’ve told me before. But today was different. I actually felt Rishi’s Qi. I really think that I can help him. I’m not going to let him end up another statistic. He needs me, and I’m going to be there for him.”
“Well said, Cait. I’m really glad you’ve started to realize your calling,” replied G.
“What your father just said is totally correct. It’s such a pity that your enlightenment had to come under such tragic circumstances,” said Jools. “But at the same time Cait, don’t get too involved. Remember, things could easily turn pear-shaped, and I don’t want you getting hurt even more if things get worse,” said Jools, ever the pragmatic one.
G picked up on Jools’s train of thought, and in that symbiotic husband-wife way of completing each other’s sentences, said, “Cait, let’s just keep talking about this as Rishi hopefully recovers. It’s important that you don’t bottle anything up inside though. By all means do what you can to help Rishi’s recovery if you feel so inclined, but don’t try and do it all on your own. Okay?”
“Of course, Dad.”
“Remember Cait, good judgment comes from experience. But you know how you learn good judgment—through bad judgment.” G stopped talking to take a sip of his chardonnay, topping up everyone’s glass at the same time, then continued.
“So you’ve got to follow your heart on this one. Not that I want you to use Rishi as a test case. Far from it. Instead, just do what you feel you need to do to help him. Rishi will no doubt appreciate it, whether he’s aware of it or not. And in many ways, you’ll be fulfilling your karmic destiny.”
G viewed his role in his daughter’s upbringing now more as a mentor than as a father; as a guide, as someone who could help her find the path of best fit through life’s ups and downs.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“What’s wrong with you? You look like shit.”
Declan had just walked into the room, cranky and brain dead. He’d had a long afternoon of lectures at university and the first person he spied in the living area was Cait. She had a sad, melancholy look about her and Dec, not known for his subtlety at the best of times, just said the first thing that came to mind. After all, as far as Dec was concerned, Cait was his sister, so why hold back? It wasn’t as if he had to impress her.
“You having a bad period or something?”
Cait sat there in stony silence, fuming, chilling the air in the room with her foul mood.
“No!” she almost yelled. She added, “I’m pregnant, you idiot,” saying what was foremost in her mind. “And besides, we’ve just returned from visiting Rishi and he’s really bad . . . I presume it did actually sink in to your thick skull when I mentioned to you the other day that he’s in intensive care?”
Cait was as wound up as a tight spring, and Dec had given her an excuse to vent her anger.
“You’re like, what?”
“You heard, dumbfuck, pregnant. To Rishi.”
Cait then finally let loose, cupping her head in her hands, sobbing violently, her shoulders heaving as the world around her seemingly crashed in.
“Cait, you can’t say that, darling. The pregnancy test you did last night was negative . . .” said Jools.
“It’s wrong, Mum!” replied Cait, cutting her mother off midsentence.
“Cait, I can’t believe that. You’re pregnant to an Indian. Get outta here,” said Dec.
He was just so not into Cait’s world. Dec sort of knew what was going on, but that’s about as far as it went. The superficial, day-to-day happenings in his sister’s life registered occasionally, but only when they slapped him in the face. Otherwise, she was well, his sister—he loved her dearly, mind you—and she could be a pain in the butt, so more often than not he did his own thing and switched off.
But Cait being pregnant? Now that wasn’t a slap; it was more like a full-on punch in the guts. And to Rishi? Dec liked him as a guy, but as his brother-in-law . . . well, that was on a whole different level.
“Cait, you okay, or something? That’s not good,” said Dec, confused.
Cait started to feel guilty about snapping at her younger brother.
“I’m sorry, Dec. That wasn’t fair of me to yell like that. And no, I’m not good,” she said, her tone changing from aggressive to submissive, almost pleading.
Dec didn’t know what to do, or say, for that matter. He would have normally snapped back at his sister, and then the bickering would have gone on for the next ten minutes or so until one of them gave up, but this time something stopped him. This was different.
Almost serious.
As Dec looked across the kitchen bench at his father, he picked up on his body language, especially his flickering eyes and nodding head that moved rapidly from Cait to him and back again.
With that, Dec walked over to his sister and rather awkwardly rested his hand on her shoulder. Cait responded by turning and looking up at him.
“It’ll be all right, sis. We’re all family. We’re here for you.” Dec was surprised at his words. They certainly hadn’t come from his mouth. Well, not knowingly at least.
“Thanks, Dec.” Cait stopped crying and leaned into her brother.
“Cait, shouldn’t Rishi be out of the hospital by now? I don’t understand.”
Dec really was quite perplexed as the reality of the moment started to hit home: he may have been sorry for his friend Rishi, but he never thought it would end up like this. Even when Rishi was taken away in the ambulance, it was only meant to be for a few tests, wasn’t it?
“I mean, he only got into a bit of a brawl, and he was fine here on Sunday.”
Dec was a typical twenty-one-year-old who was so tied up with what was happening in his own life—partying with his mates, pulling chicks, sailing on Fig Jam, finishing his commerce degree—that events outside of his own world were often relegated to second place, if they even rated a mention at all. And certainly something, or someone for that matter, as distant as Cait’s friends didn’t really appear on his radar most times.
Except for Cait’s claim to be pregnant to Rishi.
“Yeah, so, are you okay? Is Rishi okay?”
“No!” Cait said emphatically, her ire rising to the surface for the second time in a few minutes. “I’m not okay and he’s not okay. He’s bad, really bad. He almost died.”
Cait pulled away from Dec as if he was cursed and stared outside, her attention momentarily caught by two lorikeets in a feeding frenzy on t
he flame-red flowers of a grevillia hidden in the corner of their garden.
“Come on, get real. I mean, he just had a headache when he left here on Sunday. You’re exaggerating as usual.”
“Well that headache proved to be a brain hemorrhage.” Cait diverted her gaze from outside and glared at her brother. “The doctors had to do an emergency operation on him to relieve the pressure. They cut a piece of his skull out, you idiot!”
Cait was now transferring her concern for Rishi—and herself—into anger, lashing out at the easiest target of them all: those closest to her. And Dec had no finer feelings as far as she was concerned, so he copped it full on.
“You’re such an inconsiderate, selfish prick sometimes; you’re so immature,” she would have normally snapped, but something stopped her. Just maybe he was trying to be there for her.
If truth be known, this was actually the norm. Although there were only two years separating them, they fought like cats and dogs, as brothers and sisters have a habit of doing. They were both headstrong kids and as is typical of millennials, they were highly opinionated and part of the”me” generation. So it was only natural that there wasn’t a whole lot of caring and sharing between them. Certainly not outwardly.
But almost as a dichotomy, although they appeared to be like two opposing forces battling each other for supremacy, they were almost joined at the hip. Cait and Dec enjoyed each other’s company and were confidants to each other in times of trouble and need. But to arrive at this stage they had to get past a superficial clashing of wills.
“Holy shit, but how? He didn’t seem that bad.”
“How? With a saw, dickhead. How else do you think they’d make a hole in his head? With a hammer and chisel?”
“No, I meant how did it escalate to that stage? Mum, what happened? He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Dec always deferred to Jools for all things medical.
“Well, the doctor at the hospital said yes and no. If Rishi can get past the next forty-eight hours, they’ll take the tube out of his head and bring him out of his coma.”
“What! He’s got a tube in his brain? And he’s in a coma?”
This was certainly the last thing Dec expected to hear. He remained motionless next to Cait for a second or two, visibly shaken by what he had just heard: Rishi was about to die, Cait was pregnant. Too much information!
Now that’s a heavy load to be hit with after a hard day at uni.
But finer feelings emerged from deep within and Dec turned and looked at his sister, drawn by an ethereal thread of common DNA and quietly sat down on the stool next to her, not really sure what to do next.
I mean, you can’t hug your sister. That’s for sissies . . .
“Yes Dec, Rishi’s very sick. Touch and go actually,” said Jools, breaking the deafening silence that was invading the room.
Dec couldn’t believe what his mother said—Rishi, touch and go?
That’s impossible, he thought to himself.
“Hey babe, it going to be all right. He’ll get over this. He’ll be okay . . . you’ll be okay. Rishi’s a survivor,” said Dec to his sister. He reached over and without a second thought placed his arm tenderly around Cait’s shoulder, drawing her toward him with a warmth and affection that even surprised himself.
Cait responded by leaning into her brother, cupping her face in both hands, and burst into tears again. Concern and frustration had been building up since she had first heard about Rishi, and then the shock of seeing him lying there in the ICU, comatose, hooked up to all those tubes, wires, and monitors had finally come to a crescendo.
Up to now, Cait had been strong, just like her parents had told her to be. She had held back and internalized what she heard . . . seen . . . experienced, and now it was time for release. Her flowing tears were pushed out from deep within by an unseen force, and as she was sobbing, her chest heaving heavily, able only to take half breaths, she cast off the last of the ties to her innocent youth and took her first step forward as a complete adult.
G looked over at Jools and they communicated with a glance, needing no words. A wry smile appeared on G’s face as he realized not only the enormity of the milestone that Cait had just reached, but also that all his encouragement over the years, all his teachings, all his simply”being there” had paid off.
Welcome, Cait. Welcome to life, with all its beauty, but also with all its disappointments and frustrations. Life’s hard, life’s tough; life is also magnificent and rewarding. But ultimately, it’s what you make of it. So go out and achieve your destiny. Help Rishi, because he needs a friend like you at a time like this. And Dec, thanks for being there for her; for being the conduit through which Cait’s been able to complete the final part of her rite of passage.
As Jools watched the movie of Cait’s life unfold in front of her eyes, she glanced over at father and daughter and smiled inwardly with maternal satisfaction at a job well done.
I’m blessed to have such love in our family. It’s moments like this that it all comes together.
Abruptly, Cait felt something happening down there. And she felt wet, and started violently cramping. And suddenly she didn’t feel good.
“Mum . . . I think I need your help.”
If anyone was able to get behind the man that was Steve, it was G. The two of them, and Jools, had forged a close friendship traveling through Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India together in their mid-twenties, and to this day remained close friends. Apart from Steve’s wife Jo, G was one of the only people whom he ever opened up to. And even then it was limited, occurring only occasionally when Steve needed to chill or be distracted from his all-consuming business interests.
Even when they were on the road together in the mid-seventies, Jools, with her perceptive powers of insight, had never been able to fully crack Steve. There was something wild and restless about him that she couldn’t put her finger on; something that wasn’t quite right but was definitely there then, and was still there today, tantalizingly, frustratingly, drawing her in.
When Jools was lost in thought a while back G had inquired what was on her mind, and she had replied, “Steve. He’s like a lifelong jigsaw puzzle. I just can’t crack him open.” She had been observing him for years, yet the pieces that made him up dropped into place ever so slowly, his picture emerging to Jools at an agonizingly slow pace.
A driving ambition? A feeling of superiority? An insecurity complex? A total faith in his own ability to succeed? A good friend or your worst enemy? It was anyone’s guess really. Because Steve was such a layered person, he expressed all of these traits, and more.
And to Jools’s exasperation, Steve never talked about his seven-year absence from Australia. G, Jools, and Steve were in Kashmir, high up in the Hindu Kush mountains having a tea at a roadside chai stall in Srinagar. They had been on the road together for nearly six months, roughing it as they traveled through Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India, living in and out of each other’s pockets, sharing the most basic of accommodations, sharing their dreams and plans for the future, their innermost thoughts when, with no forewarning or any indication as to where he was going, Steve just up and left.
Gone, with no explanation. Steve just picked up his backpack and went, leaving a half-finished milky chai still steaming on the roadside table they were seated at. The only concession as to why Steve left so abruptly was a brief mention he made to some”business” he had to attend to for a person he knew in Sydney.
Then, as abruptly as he left in 1978, in 1985 Steve reappeared in G and Jools’s life again, with no explanations as to where he’d been, whom he’d met, or what he’d done.
And he came back with money. Seemingly lots of it. Certainly enough for him to immediately buy a house with all the trimmings, set up his first business, and start a family with his new wife Jo who accompanied him.
Which Jools and G found even stranger, because the last time they saw Steve he certainly wasn’t flush with funds. In fact, he was like them—living on a shoestring budget
, staying in the cheapest digs, and always looking for the best low-cost deal wherever they went. To this day G always had his suspicions as to where Steve’s seed money came from, but held his thoughts close to himself. Not even Jools was aware of his suspicions. All G was sure of, in his own mind at least, was that however Steve had made his money, it certainly wasn’t obtained legally.
But with Steve you would never know.
“So how’s business? Another million jump in the kick this week?”
G and Steve were talking over a quiet beer in the members’ bar at the yacht club. Steve had finally caved to G and Sean’s constant pressure and reluctantly joined them on Fig Jam for a Saturday afternoon race around the sticks.
“Yeah, actually hasn’t been bad lately. Had the usual hassles, but ended up kicking a few goals in the end.”
“Steve, you’re the Teflon Man with the Midas touch. No matter what happens, you always seem to emerge unscathed and on top of the pile, with a big pile of banknotes in your hand for your efforts.”
G was an engaging, thoughtful, and considerate conversationalist, someone who was articulate and charismatic in a quiet, all-knowing way but Steve was his nemesis. G felt second rate when he talked with Steve; not because of the quality of the conversation or his ability to engage his friend, but because of the outcome. Ever since Steve had reappeared in their lives, he was intimidating. He was one of those opinionated people who always had a confident, logical answer for everything. And it always seemed to make sense, regardless of whether it was actually true or not.
“Mate, you could have come in on the Carlton development with us as a silent partner. I did give you the option. Looks like it’s about to go to the next level.”
“Yeah, Sean fills me in regularly on what’s happening with you guys. Jools and I did discuss it, but we decided that after the debacle with our own business crashing and burning eighteen months ago that we couldn’t risk losing any more money.”
Really, what Jools and G had discussed was that they were so glad they didn’t take up Steve’s offer. Love him as she did, Jools’s Gift told her an emphatic no way, and she put her foot down. This was one investment deal that she didn’t want G and her having a bar of.
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 17
