21 HEATH

21 Heath

Heath would be willing to swear Charlee knew that he was behind her in the aisle of the IGA and was dawdling on purpose. She’d stopped for ages, staring at a shelf that held three varieties of loo paper.

He almost hadn’t recognised her, dressed in a clean, pale-blue windcheater rather than the ubiquitous flannel jacket. The rolled-up dungarees gave her away, though.

‘Charlee.’ Heath spoke so softly, it probably seemed he was afraid of startling her. That wouldn’t be far wrong. She had refused to speak with him since he’d accused her of lining things up so she could steal Amelia’s drugs. His only contact with his daughter the last few weeks had consisted of instantly disconnected phone calls, the front door shut in his face each time he knocked, and updates from Sean. Not that any of that was vastly different to the preceding two years. But the glimmer of the old Charlee last month was enough to keep him going. Keep him hoping. Keep alive the dream that his daughter would return. He’d seized every opportunity to come into town with Sean, heading to Amelia’s place each time, always with a bag of groceries or a stack of magazines he’d scooped from the shelf of the supermarket. While it hurt that Charlee wouldn’t speak with him, at least he knew she was safe. And, according to the regular updates from Sean, she was doing well.

Almost as frustrating as not being able to front Charlee was having her gatekeep his attempts to see Amelia. While the opportunity to apologise for his ignorant words was well past, he still wanted to check on her.

Maybe it was a little more than that. Perhaps he wanted to see her. Despite her feistiness—and her propensity to disagree with him—his conversations with Amelia were stimulating. And where he’d imagined a woman who had never found love was actually a woman who had lost love: a kindred damaged soul.

Charlee’s shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second before she turned. ‘Heath,’ she said carefully.

Disappointment slumped his own shoulders. Whatever he’d been conjuring into the moment this wasn’t going to be an open-arms reunion where Charlee either forgave or understood his lack of trust or concern.

‘Daideó tells me you’ve got Amelia’s menagerie well in hand.’

The mention of the animals seemed to soften his daughter’s hard exterior. ‘Eating out of it. Literally.’ She grinned. ‘Biggles—that’s the possum—actually seeks me out for her food now. Of course, I did get Ethan to make a trip to the South Parklands in the city to steal the last of the rose petals for her.’

‘Cute.’

‘Very.’

‘Are the sheep into the hay?’

‘They are. Though they really need grain to develop their rumen, rather than hay.’

‘I can pick up a sack, if you’d like.’ He struggled to sound offhand rather than over-eager. ‘Seeing as you don’t have a car.’

‘That’d really be Daideó picking it up then, wouldn’t it?’

He refused to show that the barb hit its mark. ‘I’ll carry a sack around from the stock fodder shop. It’s not far. Not like anything is far in this town, is it?’ Anything except the yawning chasm that stretched between them, that was. How was he ever going to build a bridge long enough, strong enough?

Charlee’s gaze flickered to his bad leg. ‘It’s okay. I’ll get Daideó to do it. Or Amelia’s talking about going for a drive somewhere. Maybe that can be her first outing. Two whole streets.’

They fell into an awkward silence, like they were strangers, and Heath considered checking out the prices of the loo paper himself.

‘And Amelia,’ he eventually said, ‘if she’s planning on going out, she must be doing better?’

Charlee flashed a triumphant grin. ‘I was counting the seconds until you’d ask.’

He should be annoyed by her audacity, but how could he be? It was years since she’d teased him about anything. ‘I’m asking because it’s what polite adults do.’

‘Polite adults who come knocking on a single woman’s door every two days?’

‘Polite adults who knock on their daughter’s door.’

‘You know you could just text me, right?’

‘You know you always ignore my texts.’

Charlee avoided his gaze. ‘Yeah. But I get them.’

Had Charlee just admitted that she needed his contact?

He blew out a sharp breath and indicated they should continue walking. He needed a couple of minutes to compose himself.

‘Are you lost there, loveys?’ Lynn called from the front of the shop. ‘Wouldn’t have thought it possible, but then there’ve been strange things happening around Settlers Bridge lately.’

Heath lifted the eyebrow that still worked. ‘Do we buy into it?’ he whispered to Charlee. Lynn liked nothing better than a good, long chat and the odd statement was obviously a conversational gambit. He had discovered a couple of weeks ago that the shop owner was widowed; perhaps, despite the close-knit town, she could be lonely. Funny that he’d not thought about that possibility previously but instead had judged her as nosey and gossipy.

‘Do we even have that much time?’ Charlee murmured back.

‘We could say we’re on our way to Ploughs and Pies for lunch?’

‘Really?’ Charlee slammed one hand to her hip and pursed her lips in clear disapproval.

‘What?’

‘Well, firstly, how have you not seen the windows of Ploughs and Pies are papered over? That’s what Lynn’s talking about.’

He shook his head, hefting his almost-empty plastic basket. ‘I guess I have my routine. Come here. Go knock at your door. Wander off to get a ride back to the farm with Sean.’ He hoped he wasn’t making himself sound too pathetic; there was a fine line between letting Charlee know that he was worried about her and making her feel she was being monitored. ‘Anyway, secondly?’

‘So, secondly, you just asked me out for coffee like a fifteen-year-old would ask a girl on a date. “Me and me mates are going to the movies, you wanna hang?” If you want me to go to lunch, ask me.’

She was teasing, he knew it. Yet he was as terrified his daughter would reject his offer as he would be about any prospective date turning him down.

Charlee held up a finger. ‘And thirdly—yes, of course there is a thirdly; you know me, Dad.’

That word. His heart clenched and he gritted his teeth. Who the hell knew it was possible for joy to hurt every bit as much as grief?

‘Thirdly, why don’t you invite Amelia along? I happen to know she’s sitting around doing nothing much. I’ve left Daideó babysitting her.’

Suddenly the prospect of Charlee declining his lunch offer wasn’t the worst thing he could imagine. After all, he’d had plenty of practice there. But if Amelia turned him down? That wasn’t a rejection he needed to open himself to. ‘She might not be too keen. You know, after our last conversation, how we left things.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘What I said.’

‘You do have a habit of putting your foot in it,’ Charlee observed acidly as she added Lady Grey teabags to her carrier. ‘But lucky for you, Amelia’s nicer than me. I know she’s not stressing on it.’

They’d started to slowly make their way toward the counter, and Heath could no longer think what it was he needed to buy. ‘So you’re cool if I invite her for … coffee?’

Charlee hefted her carrier onto the end of the counter, giving Lynn a dazzling smile. ‘I’m not a cockblock, Dad. Besides, it’s probably good for you and me to have a referee.’

If the ground could have opened up beneath him, it would have been a blessing. He risked a glance at Lynn, hoping she’d somehow missed the deliberate provocation, Charlee testing her boundaries.

The quirk of Lynn’s lips said otherwise. She rang up Charlee’s purchases. ‘Like I mentioned at the RAG meeting, it’s so nice to see the potential of the town growing.’

It took him a few seconds to grasp her meaning. Then the heat shot up his neck.

‘Ew, Lynn!’ Charlee squealed, reverting to an embarrassed teen.

‘Brought that one on yourself, lovey,’ the shop owner said complacently, and Heath mentally high-fived her. ‘Now, you go down to the Overland and tell Daniel behind the till that I said dessert and coffee are on me. For whoever is in your party.’

As they left the IGA, Heath deliberated over taking Charlee’s groceries to carry. Though intent on being fiercely independent, she’d always be his little girl. Instead, he glanced at his watch.

‘Obviously, we can’t let Lynn pay for dessert. But we’ll do lunch there?’

Charlee squinted at him. ‘Let Lynn pay? You do know she owns the pub, right?’ At his nonplussed expression, she blew out an exasperated breath and shook her head. ‘And her sorta-boyfriend owns the other pub.’

‘Ant,’ he said, probably sounding too relieved at the fact that he had some idea of what was going on in his neighbourhood.

Charlee didn’t appreciate his intel as much as she could have. ‘Which reminds me: Daideó and I have signed up for a fundraising thing in the old bank next month. You want in on it? I’ll get Ethan to come, too.’

‘Sure,’ he said absently. ‘I’ll buy a book of tickets or whatever.’

‘One ticket, attendance required,’ Charlee said primly.

‘Uh-huh.’

Charlee was walking toward Amelia’s, so by default he had to accompany her. After three weeks of trying to see Amelia, his heart was now thumping at the thought. What the hell was wrong with him? He only had to grunt an apology and move on. They were both adults, accustomed to office politics and capable of pretending he hadn’t been an absolute prick.

Yet it wasn’t about him. With every step he took closer, he became more aware of Amelia’s own pain, of her tragedy, of the grief she had borne, apparently alone. And for some unfathomable reason, he desperately wanted to take that from her. As though he could shoulder more.

Sean looked no less shocked to see Heath step into the lounge room than he felt. Amelia didn’t skip a beat, although she did fold her arms across her chest as she leaned against the mantelpiece.

‘Heath. You should have been here a couple of hours ago. You missed out on a fantastic morning tea, courtesy of Sean and the CWA.’

‘Don’t think I move fast enough to burn that off anymore.’ He tapped his bad leg, but silently cursed himself. Was he trying for sympathy or intent on pointing out his defects? Because if it was the latter, he’d need some time here.

‘Is that recent?’ Amelia nodded at his leg.

‘We’re going out for lunch,’ Charlee interrupted. ‘Heath’s treat—though Lynn offered to shout dessert.’

He was surprised. It was unlike his daughter to clue in to the fact that he didn’t want to talk about his injury. But—God, she wasn’t going to repeat the conversation that had prompted Lynn’s offer, was she?

‘She’s good gear, that Lynn,’ Sean said.

Charlee’s head whipped around. ‘That’s the second time you’ve said something like that this morning.’ She laced the words with heavy innuendo, then turned away, letting Sean off the hook. ‘Anyway, Amelia, are you going to change?’ She pressed her lips together, the sudden uncertainty sitting awkwardly with her domineering attitude. ‘Because if you are, I will. Only if you’ve got something else I can borrow, that is.’

‘Sure, though you’ll have noticed I’m not a girlie girl. But there are a couple of cute jumpers in the dresser—and a cupboard with a few office clothes you can help yourself to.’

Amelia said ‘office’ with a derogatory inflection and Heath switched his attention to her. Not that it had been far away: he’d been making a silent assessment, wondering how she managed to look like she had it all together when he so frequently dropped the bundle. Too exhausted by the constant battering of conflicting emotions to care how he was perceived, he’d go a couple of weeks without shaving, months without a haircut. It had been years since he’d worn a suit: Sophie’s funeral, actually.

‘You make it sound like the office isn’t a career highlight?’

Amelia looked at him long enough that he had to replay his words, checking whether he’d managed to say something wrong.

‘Working in an office is my penance. I guess we each choose our own whip, right?’

The oddest sensation rushed through him, like internal goosebumps. For all her put-together facade, Amelia totally got it. The only way through their guilt and grief was to punish themselves.

‘It can be hard to get hold of a cat o’ nine tails these days.’

‘That sounds like another mission for Tracey,’ Charlee said.

‘Not sure I want to ask what that’s about.’

Amelia chuckled. ‘Probably best you don’t. I’ll make sure Karmaa and Kismet are sorted out while you scrounge through my clothes, Charlee.’

‘No, I’ll do it. Their bucket needs filling and you can’t be doing that.’

He hadn’t heard Charlee be so considerate … well, ever. His headstrong daughter had always been bold, brash, intelligent but not particularly compassionate. ‘I’ll do the grunt work if you point out what you want doing,’ he said, standing.

‘Your daughter is intent on babying me,’ Amelia said as she led him to the door at the rear of the house. ‘I’m going to go soft.’

‘I’m glad—’ He broke off as he spied a lamb standing on top of the barbecue, a metre off the ground. ‘What the heck?’

Amelia groaned. ‘Kismet! It’s always you.’ She moved across the verandah to stroke the lamb.

He chuckled. ‘I’m not sure that’s what “lamb on the barbie” generally conjures up.’

Amelia pressed a finger to her lips. ‘No meat jokes here.’ She shook her head at the sheep, which was bunching its muscles, ready to leap down. ‘Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself.’

‘Let me.’ He scooped the lamb up, safely depositing it on the ground. ‘Oof. This one weighs a ton. Reckon they’ve been in the good paddock.’

The lamb let out an ear-splitting bleat, eyeballed him insolently, then leapt back onto the barbecue. It strained forward to nuzzle into Amelia’s hair.

She blew out an exasperated breath. ‘I swear, they’re like teenagers: they give you that dumb insolent look when you’re telling them off and five minutes later, they’re smooching up to you, trying to get a cuddle.’

Heath chuckled. ‘Welcome to my life.’ He flinched. He hated when memories like that betrayed him, pointed out how broken he was, Charlee was; their life was now. ‘Though I reckon Ethan’s the only one Charlee has time for nowadays. Can’t work out what the heck that relationship is about.’

Amelia looked at him squarely. ‘Does it matter? Maybe you should focus on the fact that she is alive and able to have a relationship, no matter what you think of him. And she’ll come round, Heath. She’s young, and hurting, and just needs some time to find her own way through the grief.’

Any other time he would have been angry at someone telling him how to manage his daughter; Sean copped his wrath often enough. But Amelia’s tone was a mixture of wishful and apologetic, and Heath got the sense that not only was she trying to console him, but that she was genuine. That perhaps she understood Charlee, had managed to reach his daughter in ways he couldn’t fathom.

Or perhaps he just desperately hoped that was the case, because it absolved him of his repeated failures.

They all piled into Sean’s car to get to the pub, which was only a couple of streets away.

‘Gonna love you and leave you here, I’m afraid,’ Sean said as they pulled up in front of the pub.

Heath fought down the surge of panic. Dad was leaving him to handle both Amelia and Charlee?

‘Got a hot date, Daideó?’ Charlee teased.

‘Got an AA meeting, young lady.’

Amelia froze, her hand on the car door. ‘You should have said. We’ll do lunch some other time.’ She sounded every bit as terrified as Heath felt, and somehow that reassured him.

‘Charlee’s just brought me up to speed with the cafe closing down and the second she said it, I desperately needed coffee, if nothing else.’ Heath stepped from the car, bending to speak through the open door. ‘Dad, you got time for a coffee at least?’

‘All caffeined up, lad. I’ll take a raincheck. You said Ethan’s coming through this afternoon, Charlee? Maybe get him to pick you up and take you back to the farm.’

As Amelia alighted from the far side of the car, Sean gave Heath a slow wink and he realised he’d been set up: his father had organised a date for him. He shook his head, but Sean chuckled, putting the car into gear.

‘Well, I’m starving,’ Charlee said as they selected a table alongside a window that overlooked the bridge across the Murray. ‘Anyone got recommendations?’

‘I don’t know how you can possibly be hungry after all that cake,’ Amelia said. ‘The menu is up above the register.’

Heath had only just taken a seat, but stood again immediately. ‘I’m grabbing a drink. Ladies?’ He wasn’t ready to be alone at the table with Amelia while Charlee checked out the menu.

Charlee and Amelia were chatting, their heads close, when he returned from the bar, carrying three drinks. ‘Found something to fill the hole?’ he asked. Charlee’s new interest in food was a novelty, a miracle courtesy of Amelia and Ethan.

‘Haven’t even looked yet,’ Charlee said cheerfully. She seemed to vibrate with excitement, but it was a warm, happy feeling, not the agitated, over-stimulated high of drugs. ‘Amelia and I were scheming.’

‘Scheming?’

Charlee looked to Amelia, as though she needed permission. Amelia lifted one shoulder.

‘I’ll tell you over lunch,’ Charlee said. ‘Does anyone know what they want to eat? Amelia?’

‘I’ll guess I’ll get a steak sandwich,’ Amelia said. ‘Can’t go wrong with that in a country pub.’

‘Me too,’ Charlee said. ‘Beetroot?’

‘Make it three. My shout.’ He waved off Amelia’s objection. ‘You can trip the light fantastic to the register, though, Charlee.’ He couldn’t continue being intimidated by the prospect of being alone with Amelia.

Charlee headed to the register with his credit card, and he lifted his wine, tipping the glass toward Amelia. ‘Here’s to your recovery.’

She clinked her glass against his. ‘Here’s to your daughter, who has been an absolute godsend.’

‘I think that’s been a two-way street. I’ve not seen her this settled since …’ He let the sentence trail off, taking a drink instead.

‘Do you worry about that?’ Amelia nodded at his glass.

For a second he was taken aback by her frankness, then realised that he liked it. No beating about the bush. No careful avoidance or overt sympathy. ‘Because of Dad?’

‘That. Charlee. And … just, you know. Overall. The urge. The need .’

He set the glass down. ‘You mean do I drink to forget? Hell, yes.’

She sighed wistfully. ‘I hoped alcohol, drugs—whatever—would make the night end.’

He knew that she wasn’t talking about physical darkness, but the bleakness of her soul, where it seemed there could never be any reprieve from the despair. For two years, he’d held his guilt and grief tight and private. In a few simple words, Amelia had voiced her feelings— his feelings —so perfectly he knew that he would never need to explain. And somehow that meant that, for the first time, he could talk.

‘Can’t say it’s worked for me. I’ve not found a damn thing that helps. You?’

‘I hadn’t. But I’ve been thinking on what Ethan said the other month … about addiction. Do you think maybe we’re addicted to grief?’

He jerked back. ‘Where’s the payoff in grief? I don’t know about you, but I’d do anything to be rid of it. So that’s not an addiction.’

‘I’m not so sure. Sean said it took him years to give up alcohol, even though he wanted to. And Charlee’s fighting her drug addiction with everything she’s got.’

His heart contracted at the thought of his child, for whom everything had come easy, having to fight for her life.

‘They both want to be rid of their addiction, just like we do. And there is a payoff to grief, you know: it keeps everyone at arms’ length. I’ve pushed people away for three years, because it’s safer than risking being hurt, safer than laying myself bare by sharing my pain. So maybe I’ve become too comfortable in my grief. How is that not an addiction?’

He stared at his glass. Hell, this woman went straight for the jugular, even if it was her own. No self-pity allowed, evidently. ‘You think there’s a point at which grief becomes self-serving?’

She fiddled with her fork, frowning. ‘Maybe. Are we using grief to fill the hole in our lives, just like addicts do? And in that case, at what point do we give it up?’

He snorted. ‘I don’t think going cold turkey on grief is a thing, do you?’

‘Probably not. But you know what Ethan said, about connection? Finding purpose. I think maybe that’s what grief addicts need, too.’

He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Grief addicts? That’s a new one.’

‘I’ll take out copyright later. But Heath … you know Charlee’s really struggling, right? She has our addiction, plus a drug addiction. But over the last week, we’ve come up with a kind of idea—’

‘A kind of idea?’

She smiled, almost shyly, the fine lines around her eyes hinting at a life that hadn’t been spent in an office. ‘I’ll let Charlee tell you.’

‘You’re tantalising.’

A blush brushed Amelia’s cheekbones and he realised that was what he’d subconsciously aimed for.

He coughed to hide his sudden awkwardness. ‘So, a hint at least. Does it have anything to do with this fundraiser Charlee’s roped me in for?’

‘Oh. You’re in?’ Her blush deepened. ‘No, that’s not it, although I kind of have to take responsibility for that. I encouraged Charlee to get involved—though it was Sean’s idea,’ she added hastily.

‘Food is on the way,’ Charlee announced as she reached the table. She tossed his credit card toward him. ‘And I got garlic bread, too. Because … garlic bread.’

‘Bread with sandwiches, huh? Remember Gio’s?’ he said with a rush of nostalgia. ‘We always had to get an extra garlic bread with the pizza, just for you.’

‘I remember you always stole the end pieces, though, so it wasn’t really just for me.’

‘I’ll make up for it by letting you have them today.’

‘Sorry to burst your bubble, Brennans,’ Amelia said. ‘But I know from experience that the garlic bread comes as fat slices of house-made sourdough. No end pieces.’

‘We’ll deal,’ Charlee said, lifting her glass of wine.

When he’d reached the bar, Heath had had an irrational moment of wanting to order her a traffic light, the tricoloured, non-alcoholic drink she’d loved as a kid. But Charlee was an adult and he had no right to refuse her a glass of wine. Besides, considering Amelia’s revelation regarding addictions, who was he to point fingers or make judgements?

‘Anyway,’ Charlee continued, ‘you two look weird. What’s going on?’

‘I was avoiding telling Heath about our fledgling idea,’ Amelia said.

‘I really wanted Daideó to hear about it, too. But I can’t sit on it anymore.’ Charlee turned to him, her eager expression disguising the marks of years of self-abuse. ‘So, you know how Amelia is our local crazy animal lady?’

‘I wouldn’t have said that,’ he lied politely.

Charlee shot him a cynical look. ‘Yeah. Well. Anyway, she was saying that maybe we should take her brand of crazy and make it more official.’

‘The travelling farmyard?’

‘You remember that?’ Amelia said.

‘It was only a couple of months ago we talked about it.’ Besides, thinking about it— her —had given him a tiny respite from that endless night she’d identified. ‘I take it this is more than a fledgling idea now?’

Amelia waited as a waitress slid a plate onto the table. ‘Thanks, Chloe.’

As she’d said, the toasted bread came in great, thick slices, deep craters holding pools of butter. Amelia pulled the crust off her bread, paused, then held it out to Charlee with a grin.

‘Yep!’ Charlee exulted, snatching it.

Amelia tore the remainder of the slice into pieces, dropping them onto her plate. ‘It seems Ethan and Charlee share a passion for research and something of a can-do attitude.’

God, if she’d known Charlee two years ago …

‘She’s been taking advantage of me being tied to the bed—’

Heath coughed his way out of an involuntary splutter at the mental image.

‘—and done a deep dive into public liability insurance, portable fencing, transport, advertising … what else, Charlee?’

‘Everything,’ Charlee said, in her usual self-assured fashion. ‘There’s absolutely no competition out this way. No kind of mobile petting zoo. And you would not believe how may hundreds of schools, childcare centres—’ she winced and Heath was relieved to note that she wasn’t oblivious to Amelia’s pain ‘—libraries and stuff like that there are in regional areas. And Amelia’s right. Even though the big places like Murray Bridge are technically “country”, there are gazillions of kids who don’t have access to farm animals. Particularly the cute little baby ones. So think kids’ birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, whatever.’

‘Bar mitzvahs?’ He chuckled. ‘Hope that’s not the basis of your business model.’

‘Don’t be so pedantic, Dad. You don’t always need a plan, you know. Sometimes it pays to jump in the deep end.’ She stared meaningfully at him.

‘Finances?’ he said to cover his discomfiture. Money wouldn’t be a problem—he’d fund whatever it took to keep Charlee this happy.

‘I’ve got that covered,’ Amelia said.

‘You’ll have time to work in the office and do this?’ He wouldn’t have thought temping would provide enough funds for the animals Amelia already had, never mind the entire zoo he could imagine his daughter was planning.

‘Dad,’ Charlee warned around her mouthful of bread. ‘Boring.’

Amelia gave an amused snort. ‘No. Perhaps I’ve finally done my penance.’ She gave him a look that spoke volumes. ‘I won’t extend my contract when it runs out in a few weeks. Though I think if we set this thing up and stick with only baby farm animals—that’s what you said is most popular, isn’t it, Charlee?—plus some guinea pigs and rabbits, that kind of thing, this is something Charlee will be able to run by herself.’

‘More fun if we’re both in it, though.’ The plaintive note in his daughter’s voice made it seem she wanted—no, craved —the interaction with the other woman.

And that instantly reminded him of what he’d stolen from his daughter, the ways in which he’d failed her.