23 HEATH

23 Heath

Heath jerked his necktie tighter than it needed to be. ‘Last time I wore this getup was for a funeral,’ he muttered. His lips felt thin, his voice strained.

‘Aye, lad,’ Sean said bleakly. ‘I recall.’

‘The funeral of a woman I loved. Now I’m wearing it to go to a funeral with some strange woman that, for whatever bloody reason, I … care about.’ He should shut the hell up. But the oppressive weight of memories, the too familiar motions of putting the suit on, threatened to swamp him if he didn’t keep talking.

‘Nothing wrong with that last bit,’ Sean said.

‘Everything is wrong with that, Dad, and you know it. Sophie’s only been gone two years.’

‘That’s just the point. She’s gone. Her life is over. But that doesn’t mean yours has to be.’

‘How can you even say that?’ He wasn’t truly angry; he was demanding Sean justify his feelings, the unwanted concern he felt for a woman he barely knew.

‘I can say it because—if you’re lucky—life goes on. Not necessarily better or worse, but very necessarily different.’

Heath snorted, gesturing at the solid stone walls of the old farmhouse and the farmyard beyond. ‘Different? You’re telling me. A bit more than two years ago, I had a wife, a job, a house decorated to look like something from a magazine. Now I have … you. That’s about bloody it.’

‘Not only me.’ A rare frown creased Sean’s forehead in the mirror they shared.

‘Charlee—’ Heath turned his almost-sob into a sharp exhalation, hoping it sounded annoyed. ‘At what point do I give up there? She was making progress, keen to start up this travelling farmyard thing, but then she screwed things up with Amelia and took off. Back to bloody Ethan, I imagine.’

‘Why didn’t you stop her?’

‘If Amelia let her go, there was nothing I could do. Anyway, what the hell was I supposed to say? How can I pretend that it’s okay she didn’t tell Amelia about Gavin? Because it bloody isn’t. It wasn’t her decision to make. And Amelia is gutted. You should have seen her face.’ It had been almost three days, yet he couldn’t unsee it. Oblivious to the other diners, Amelia had crumbled, the sudden loss of Gavin breaching her walls, allowing the pain of her son’s death to rush back in.

‘Christ!’ A sudden thought made him whirl to face Sean. ‘Did Charlee make a choice not to tell Amelia or did she forget? And if she forgot, is it because she’s using again?’

‘Don’t let your mind go there. She’s not using, lad.’

‘How the hell do you know? Now she’s cleaned up her act, she could be a high-functioning addict.’

‘I don’t know . But I think …’ Sean stared into the mirror, somehow looking beyond himself. ‘Now it’s time for me to just have faith. Because sometimes that’s what it comes down to. If it’s not something we can fix ourselves—and Charlee isn’t—then sometimes we have to put ourselves in the hands of something more powerful. Like Amelia said, you have to believe there’s something more or everything becomes pointless.’

‘Too late. I’m already there.’

‘You can’t be,’ Sean said, unusually sharp. ‘You don’t get that option.’

‘Dad …’ Heath dropped onto the thinly padded armchair, one that Sophie had bought for their house—for aesthetics, not use. She’d been big on shopping. ‘There’s nothing left. I’m … exhausted.’

‘Lad, remember what Sophie gave up for you. To you. So that you can have this. You don’t get an opt-out clause. You’ve got Charlee, the farm, you’re fully invested in this community skatepark idea, and you’re pals with about half of Settlers Bridge now, thanks to the RAG. Which, let’s not forget, I roped you into.’ Sean was obviously trying for an upbeat note.

‘The farm?’ he said hopelessly. ‘That’s nothing to me. You’re the one who wants to play farmer.’

‘And what about this petting zoo you told me about? I know you. You’re scheming, you’re thinking of ways to help Charlee with it.’

‘Well, that won’t be going ahead now. Amelia’s not going to have anything to do with Charlee after this … debacle.’

‘Then maybe you need to step up. This—’ Sean followed him into the kitchen and jabbed a finger at the window ‘—this was part of Sophie’s gift to you.’

‘We bought it, Dad. You and me.’

‘No, I chose it. You bought it—with Sophie’s insurance money. And she’d taken out that insurance so you’d be looked after if anything happened to her. Ergo, Sophie’s gift.’

‘We both took out insurance,’ he argued pointlessly. It had been Sophie’s idea, though, and it was typical of her to be so organised. Although she refused to consider employment outside the home, she’d run their household like a drill sergeant. But considering the farm a gift from her … was that just another millstone around his neck? Another hurdle to stop him from ever moving on?

He almost choked. Moving on? He’d never thought that before. Never contemplated the notion, had no need to, because his life had ended when Sophie died. How dare he assume he was entitled to anything more than existence , when he had failed to fulfil Sophie’s dying wish. He hadn’t saved their daughter.

‘That’ll be Amelia,’ Sean said, ignoring his non-argument and going to the back door.

Heath had second-guessed his impulsive offer to accompany Amelia to the funeral more than a hundred times over the past few days. But as Sean ushered her into the kitchen, Heath had a rare moment of knowing he’d done the right thing.

This time, he was certain her face was devoid of makeup, no trace of artifice to hide behind. There was something sadly beautiful about her countenance. It was as though she’d worked through the grief that had ravaged her three days earlier and had moved on to acceptance. How was that even possible?

‘It’s really nice of you to come with me,’ she said by way of greeting.

He’d been thinking how awkward it was going to be, two strangers trapped in a light aircraft for however long it took to fly to Keith. ‘Just sorry I can’t offer to drive you there.’

‘Aye,’ Sean agreed. ‘I’d have taken you, but I’ve got an appointment today.’

Heath frowned. ‘You didn’t mention that one.’

‘Nope.’

It wasn’t like Sean to keep his tongue between his teeth. What was he hiding?

‘I prefer to fly,’ Amelia said. ‘Clears my head. One of the guys from the Keith field will meet us there and take us to the service. Besides, if we were driving, I’d have had to get Charlee out of bed an hour earlier.’

‘Charlee? She’s in the city.’

‘Was. Ethan brought her back last night to babysit the animals.’

‘She … contacted you?’

Charlee had stalked from the pub, angrily defiant in the face of Amelia’s tears, even though he’d recognised that she was devastated at letting her friend down. He also knew that she wouldn’t apologise—it wasn’t in her.

‘No. I called her on Saturday night.’ At his surprised look, Amelia continued: ‘She didn’t mean any harm, Heath. No point letting it fester.’

‘But this mistake isn’t something a “sorry” can fix.’

She shot him a wry grin. ‘I’m not sure “sorry” is in Charlee’s vocab, is it? But she shouldn’t be left alone with her guilt, so that’s the end of the matter.’

‘How can you just let it go? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad—and grateful—but …?’

She shrugged. ‘The world is a sad place. Charlee didn’t make it any more so, and she doesn’t deserve to be punished for that.’ Despite her words, the sheen of tears highlighted the gold in her eyes. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have let myself get close to Gavin. To anyone. That’s just a path to hurt.’

‘Or is it a path to life?’ Sean said.

The silence swirled around them as his father nodded and left.

‘Have you flown before?’ Amelia asked minutes later, as they pulled up alongside the hangar.

‘Not in something this small. Not meaning to be rude or anything. But, you know, commercial airliners. A Rex flight to Mount Gambier would be the smallest, and that was a while back. Bit of a wild ride. But everything I’ve flown in had at least two engines.’ He regarded the single propeller at the front of the plane dubiously. ‘Is that wood ?’

Amelia chuckled. ‘I reckon that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you spill at one time. Nervous?’

‘Be lying if I said I wasn’t.’ But not necessarily only because of the flight.

He helped her push the terrifyingly light aircraft out onto the runway, then stood to one side, taking deep, calming breaths as Amelia did what he assumed was a preflight check.

‘Okay. All aboard,’ she called. ‘Just be careful getting in. It can be a bit awkward to lift your leg high enough to clear the ledge.’

Great. At about thirty years older than him, Gavin had evidently managed the manoeuvre just fine, yet Amelia thought Heath was an invalid because of his slight limp.

The walls of the aircraft were terrifyingly thin fibreglass, and the door looked no thicker than an eggshell.

‘All good?’ Amelia asked as she idled the engine.

‘Just thinking it’s probably lucky Sophie nagged me into keeping my will up to date.’ That wasn’t entirely true: he hadn’t updated it since well before Sophie had died. But his awareness of Amelia’s presence, her arm brushing his in the tiny cabin, made him feel he should acknowledge his wife. He fixed his gaze on the high windscreen above the array of technical dials and meters.

‘You’ll be fine. She’s pretty basic. There’s no on-board alerts, so situational awareness comes down to the pilot.’

‘No alerts?’ Heath looked at the instrument panel in concern. ‘Surely everything is covered by that lot?’ He’d thought flying in a light aircraft was risky, but he’d not expected quite this level of pilot nonchalance.

Amelia grinned. ‘Don’t panic. There are the regular gauges. Just no fancy bells and whistles. We’ll be right.’

The aircraft rattled and jounced along the runway between the mallee scrub.

‘We should get this graded. I hadn’t realised how rough it’d got since that bit of rain.’ He felt compelled to make conversation, even though Amelia seemed to be concentrating on the dirt strip in front of them, her hands playing over the controls. The faster they taxied, the louder he had to talk to be heard over the rattle and crunch of the gravel beneath the wheels.

‘It’s okay. The Jabby has modified tyres, they’re bigger than the standard, so she can take a bit of rough. Just sounds like she’s about to give up the ghost because there’s basically no suspension.’

‘Is this the same kind of plane that Gavin has, then?’

She shook her head, and he realised with surprise that the bouncing had stopped. The angle of the dash meant that all he could see in front of them was sky, but he looked sideways and found they had already smoothly left the ground.

As they climbed, Amelia banked the plane to the left and he fought the instinctive urge to clutch at his seatbelt to prevent himself from falling through the lightweight door.

‘Gavin’s is both larger and newer than my old girl. But she’s all I need.’ Amelia patted the control console fondly. ‘Gets me where I need to go, every time. Look down now.’

He did as she instructed, rewarded by a hawk’s eye view of the serpentine twists of the Murray River upstream of Settlers Bridge. He watched for a while in silent awe as they skimmed the broad olive satin ribbon bordered by naked willow trees. Beyond them, green flood plains studded with dairy cattle stretched for acres across a river valley. Nearer the town, the rust-coloured bridge tied a bow across the river. The plane’s nose tipped up and cottonwool puffs of cloud, starkly three-dimensional against a flat pewter sky, cascaded like snowflakes beyond the windscreen.

Heath let out an audible breath, part relief, part wonder. ‘It’s amazing how a ground-level view of the river doesn’t even hint at its magnificence. I’ve seen pictures, of course, but I had no real concept of how vast either the river or the valley is.’

‘It’s even more spectacular if you head toward Gabrielle’s inn. The most amazing red cliffs border the river there. Like I said, the whole world is different when you’re up here,’ Amelia said. ‘It’s like a reset, even if it only lasts until my wheels touch the ground.’

‘You don’t worry about the danger?’

She glanced sideways at him. ‘I don’t care. Do you?’

He hesitated, then let go of his grip on the rough fibreglass edges of his uncomfortable seat, his knuckles aching. There was something incredibly freeing in giving himself over to the moment, allowing his mortality to be in someone else’s hands.

‘Though you have someone to live for,’ Amelia added softly.

‘I’m not sure anyone else actually feels that way.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Amelia said firmly. ‘You’ve got Charlee. Your dad.’

He grunted. ‘Anything that made me worth being around died along with Sophie. Now my family get this.’ He slapped his bad leg. ‘I’m permanently angry and more a liability than anything else. I couldn’t even take Dad to his appointment today. So, no, I don’t think anyone genuinely wants to be around me. And that’s fine.’

‘Is it, though?’ Amelia said, her eyes on the horizon, though he had no idea whether that was to evade him or a necessity of piloting. ‘Or is Sean onto something? I mean, I tell myself not to let anyone in so I can’t get hurt. But I’m not making too good a job of that.’

‘Gavin, you mean?’

She was silent a long moment, as he’d realised was her habit.

‘Among others,’ she said eventually.

His fingers found the seat edge again.

‘Is Sean okay?’ she said.

His lip curled derisively. He was an idiot, thinking for a second that Amelia had meant him. She and Sean had clicked from day one.

‘I don’t know.’ Except he had to be. God knows, Heath couldn’t take another tragedy himself; he was barely coping with Charlee being alive but lost to him.

Another long silence. He worked up the courage to lean against his door, watching the ground scrolling far beneath.

‘Why don’t you drive?’

He flinched at Amelia’s forthrightness. ‘Partly PTSD, I guess.’

‘But you don’t have a problem being a passenger?’

‘Necessity outweighs fear,’ Heath said tightly. Waited for her to point out the irrationality of his weakness.

‘I fall to pieces at the sight of a dam, yet I find the river … healing,’ Amelia said. ‘So I think perhaps our emotions don’t have to be rooted in logic.’

It took a few seconds for him to process what she’d said. Then he nodded slowly. ‘I guess you’re right. But we do have a duty to control them when they impact other people.’

She huffed out a short breath. ‘You probably should have mentioned that before I blew up at my dad the other week.’

He spread his fingers wide, palm up, inviting her to continue.

‘He sold the family property. Where Noah … died. And I feel like he’s cut off my only connection to my son.’ She pulled sunglasses from the console and put them on, even though the sky was overcast. ‘Which is irrational, yet I can’t get past my anger. But that’s because I want to blame everyone else for what happened to Noah. Also stupid, because no matter who I point a finger at—’ she tapped her own chest, though he got the impression the action was subconscious ‘—my son is … gone.’

‘You come across as anything but angry,’ he said. ‘So clearly you’re more capable of controlling your impulses than I am.’

‘I’ve had a little longer to learn how to cope. Three years.’ She gave a broken laugh. ‘Three years of coping by running, as though I can take a suitcase of the good memories along with me and outrun the truth and tragedy, rather than accept it.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever be able to stop running?’

He caught the uneven rise of her chest as she took a ragged breath. ‘I’d love to. I’m so bloody tired. Tired of starting fresh, when there can never truly be a new start. Tired of avoiding making friends, because I know they will only bring me sorrow. Tired of trying not to face the truth. Denial is exhausting, isn’t it?’

‘I’m tired of the guilt,’ he said quietly. ‘And I know that’s a bad thing, that I don’t have any right to put it aside. But I don’t know how much longer I can carry it.’

‘But you feel that you’ll be doing wrong by Sophie if you let it go.’

‘She didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t deserve to live. And the only thing she asked of me was to look after Charlee, and I’m—’ Heath broke off, turning to look out the side window. The world played out far beneath them, lives he didn’t know, sorrows he’d never have to experience. Amelia was right; something about being up here did add a different perspective to life.

He startled as Amelia reached across the narrow console between them, took his hand and squeezed it so tight it hurt.

‘Charlee knows you’re here for her. She’s working her way through this. But she needs to be able to blame you for a while, exactly the same as I need to blame my dad. Needed to. I guess now I recognise my reaction, I should address it, right?’ She gave one more squeeze, then let go, and he had to fight the urge to snatch her hand back. ‘I suppose it’s human nature to lash out, try to share the hurt in the hope that it eases the burden.’ She pointed beyond the windscreen and simultaneously toggled a switch on her joystick with her right hand. ‘Keith Airfield. I need to listen in, check who’s in the airspace.’

He realised that she was cutting off their conversation, but was it so he would process her words? She was closer to Charlee than anyone had been in two years. Well, except Ethan, maybe. But Amelia he could trust.