24 AMELIA

24 Amelia

Amelia had gritted her teeth the entire way through Gavin’s funeral service, determined not to cry. And she’d made an excuse not to attend the wake at the Keith pub. Witnessing other people’s grief was almost as bad as experiencing her own.

It wasn’t until she was seated in the aircraft with Heath again that Amelia felt she could take a deep breath and loosen the hold she had on her emotions just a little. And her tongue, apparently; there was something about Heath’s solid, pensive company that made sharing seem natural.

‘Thanks for coming with me. I know it can’t have been easy for you.’

Pain flashed across Heath’s face, and she winced at her tiny twinge of jealousy. He was clearly still very much in love with Sophie. He’d mentioned her three or four times during the seventy-minute flight from Settlers Bridge to Keith.

‘No problem,’ he said, buckling up. ‘Do you think Hannah will be all right?’

‘Keith will rally around her; it’s a tight community. And I guess she had time to prepare.’

Amelia focused on the radio chatter as she guided the plane down the runway. They lifted smoothly into the sky, the increasing pressure forcing her into the welcome embrace of her seat. For a second, she allowed herself to imagine Gavin was onboard, headed to the clouds layered above them, on his last flight. The thought brought her a little comfort; they’d both loved the endless freedom of the sky and now Gavin would forever have that.

The plane levelled out and she turned for home. ‘You came from Victoria, didn’t you?’

Heath nodded. ‘Just over the border.’

‘So why Settlers Bridge? What was the drawcard?’

‘It wasn’t Victoria.’ He clung to his dour silence for a while.

Amelia didn’t mind. She sensed he was like her, that Heath needed to order his thoughts before he shared them.

‘Dad lived in Adelaide, but after … after Sophie, he said he’d always wanted a few acres and maybe we could all benefit from a change. Found the property at Settlers Bridge.’ He shrugged. ‘Made no difference to me where we went. Though I did hope that moving Charlee away from the crowd she was hanging with would limit her access—’ His fists clenched on his lap and Amelia recalled the feeling of his hand in hers, the implicit strength, and how nice it had been, for those few seconds, to feel a human touch again.

It was clear that he believed he’d failed Charlee, despite uprooting his entire life in an attempt to protect his daughter.

‘Drugs are everywhere,’ she said. ‘Even out on the station we’d have problems with the odd rousie bringing stuff in. I guess the best parents can hope for is that if their kids use, they don’t abuse.’

‘Drugs are illegal. Any use is abuse.’

‘Technically correct. But being correct doesn’t make you right , you know? Kids are always going to be curious. Don’t you remember what that was like?’

‘Bit far back for me.’

She leaned to the side, looking down to check the location of the highway that would guide them back. ‘So maybe they experiment. That doesn’t mean the use has to escalate. Not everyone gets addicted.’

‘But some do, and then welcome to a completely screwed life. They’ve lost their present and annihilated their future,’ Heath said. ‘Hell, they even rewrite their past.’ An agitated tic danced in his jaw.

‘Perhaps they’re just desperately seeking something to numb the pain. Maybe the drugs work, just the tiniest bit; and then they’re too terrified of life without them. Of having to feel everything .’

Heath ran his tongue over his lip, the tension of his body seeming to suck the oxygen from the cabin. ‘Is that what Charlee said?’

The raw ache in his tone was almost enough to free the tears she’d held in check all morning. ‘She told me how close you two used to be. I can see that you feel her pain but do you think that maybe you’re just a little … jealous? Because she’s found a way to numb it, when you haven’t?’ It was dangerous suggesting that his disappointment in Charlee’s behaviour wasn’t entirely selfless, yet Amelia had to get him to at least consider the possibility. ‘Charlee’s choices are a product of her trauma, but Charlee is not a product of her choices. That’s still your little girl in there and she’s lost and hurting and needs you more now than she ever has.’

Heath dragged his thumb over the scar through his eyebrow. ‘I don’t know how to reach her. I can’t get through to her. You’ve seen her: most days Charlee would rather talk to anyone but me.’

‘That’s because she loves you more than she loves anyone else. She can’t bring herself to face your disappointment. You can’t expect her to make a choice between you and the drugs when only one of those things takes her pain away.’

‘Then what the hell am I supposed to do? How can I compete with the drugs, when I’m the—ha, living —reminder of the cause of that pain?’

Amelia frowned at the endless sky, searching for a solution to Heath’s problem. Even if she couldn’t help herself, perhaps she could help save him. ‘Remember that you’re also the reminder—the keeper—of every one of Charlee’s good memories. You can’t let her lose touch with them. You have to be there for her, be open to her, all of the time, Heath.’ She took a tremulous breath. ‘I know it’s hard. I’ve chased people away myself, because I didn’t want to hear their pain, didn’t want to risk it adding to my own.’

‘Your parents?’ He risked a glance at her.

‘Them. And … my husband.’

‘You’re married?’

Heath sounded surprised and she grimaced at her work-worn hands. Without a mirror, she knew that the sun-carved lines about her eyes had been joined by creases of sorrow, and that premature silver threaded through her hair.

‘Not anymore.’ No lexicon contained enough words to convey the emotions divorce entailed. Her divorce, anyway. Guilt, grief, desertion, betrayal.

‘You broke up because of … Noah?’

She liked the way he said her son’s name as though it was fragile. Cherished. ‘Tim and I found that looking at each other was a reminder that we could never be a proper family unit again. Ultimately, neither of us could face that. Tim found some peace with mates and wider family. I ran away.’

‘I wish I could say that I don’t know your pain. But …’

She gave a hollow laugh. ‘The wounded find the wounded, right? It’s odd, though. I couldn’t share my pain with Tim, yet with you it’s different.’

Heath rubbed his jaw, his forehead creased. ‘Maybe because we’re comparing, not competing?’

She flinched, then nodded reluctantly. ‘I guess Tim and I were locked in an undeclared contest of who hurt the most, as though the grief could somehow prove our love for Noah.’ She checked the altimeter. ‘Stupid, right?’

‘No.’ She caught his aftershave as Heath shook his head. ‘That actually makes sense. I’ve been thinking on what you said about us using grief to fill a hole in our lives.’

Amelia glanced at him, intrigued that he’d not only reflect on her views, but would share that he’d done so.

‘And I think it’s more complex than that. Perhaps our grief is actually love looking for somewhere to land.’

‘ Oh! ’ Shocked, she mulled over his words. For so long she’d felt guilty about her grief. About the fact that she allowed it, when it seemed she should move on with her life. But if grief was love, didn’t she have every right to it?

They were both silent, the drone of the light aircraft’s engine a soothing hum in the background as Amelia let the words sink in. The thought of embracing her grief instead of fighting and denying the emotion was … comforting . For the first time in years, she felt the tiniest measure of acceptance: not of the fact that Noah had died, but acceptance that she would always grieve him—and had every right to do so.

‘I’ll see you at the RAG meeting Thursday week?’ Heath said eventually.

‘You’re not coming next Tuesday?’

Heath frowned. ‘There’s no meeting then.’

‘Charlee’s … thing,’ she said, realising there was a chance Charlee hadn’t told her father the details. ‘At the bank.’

‘The fundraiser? That’s not until next month, is it?’

‘No, you’re right.’ Though Amelia hoped Heath would come to the practice, Charlee could sort this one out herself. The sprawl of Settlers Bridge came into view through the flickering oscillation of the prop. ‘And here’s home,’ she said, surprised to realise that she had an actual sense of homecoming. She buzzed low over the farmhouse. ‘Anyway, thanks again for coming with me.’

‘Thanks for trusting me to come with you,’ Heath said.

A quiver ran through her. But odd reactions were to be expected after such a fraught morning.

By the time she’d hangared the plane, dropped Heath at the farmhouse and driven into Settlers Bridge, Amelia realised she was genuinely hungry. It was unusual—for years she’d not had an appetite.

She stopped at the back door of her cottage to cuddle Karmaa and Kismet. The lambs were as faithful as any dog, scrambling onto each other’s back to try to be the closest to her. Karmaa, in particular, loved it when Amelia sat on the cold cement and the lamb could either climb into her lap or lie alongside with his head on her knee. Though she missed bottle-feeding them, it was a welcome relief not to have to worry about bloat.

As she opened the back door, warmth rushed out, the air pulsing with music. Even better, though, was the aroma of hot food.

Charlee whipped around from the stove as Amelia entered the kitchen. She heaved a huge sigh that sounded strangely like relief. ‘You’re back! Excellent timing. Look.’ She pulled a tray from the oven, carefully balancing an old-school painted Pyrex dish on it. ‘Apricot crumble,’ she announced.

Amelia kept her gaze on the bubbling pot of golden juice seeping around the crusty, sugar-dusted balls of dough, rather than letting it stray to the counter, which was covered with dishes and ingredients. ‘I didn’t know you were into baking. Smells fantastic.’ She glanced around for somewhere to drop the iPad she used for flying and realised that a chair offered the only free space.

‘I’m not. Tracey came over to see if I wanted to go to the op shops with her to look for our line-dancing gear.’ Charlee screwed up her nose. ‘And I told her I wasn’t even sure we were still doing the dancing thing and that I owed you a huge apology. She said food is always a good way of saying sorry. So—’ she stepped back and gestured to the stovetop ‘—roast pork with all the trimmings. Tracey suggested lamb, but I thought maybe not.’ She tilted her head to the back door.

Amelia chuckled. ‘So you’re going vegetarian when we start up the travelling farmyard?’

Charlee’s breath was sharp and uneven. ‘You still want to do that?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because, you know …’ Charlee shrugged, not meeting her eye. ‘I screwed up. Bad. Like, even more bad than usual.’

‘Yep. You screwed up. And now it’s bygones. Of course we’re still working on the project. My only issue is …’ She let the words hang.

Charlee leaned on the back of a kitchen chair. ‘What?’

‘If it’s only you and me for lunch, by the time we eat this lot, I’ll never get the Jabby off the ground again.’

‘Well, that wouldn’t be all bad,’ Charlee said.

Amelia paused. She hadn’t realised Charlee was concerned about her flying. She chose her words carefully. ‘It would, because once my work at James’s office finishes, I might look at contract flying to keep the coffers topped up.’ And because she couldn’t imagine life without the sky. ‘We’ve got to fund all these animals that you think we need.’

‘We can find another way to raise the money,’ Charlee said, a deep crease between her brows. Then she grinned. ‘But if too much lunch is a problem, I can always invite Dad over?’

Amelia ignored the teasing lilt to the teen’s voice, her mind still on Charlee’s flash of surprising solemnity. What had prompted that comment? ‘I think Heath’s probably had enough of my company, after close confines for the last few hours.’

‘Aw, you sound so sad.’ Charlee giggled.

The girl was just messing with her—her fledgling interest in Heath couldn’t be that obvious. ‘Not at all. Which reminds me, you said your dad is down for this line-dancing gig? He doesn’t seem to know anything about Tuesday night.’

‘Mmm. Yeah. Oops.’ Charlee looked anything but penitent. ‘About that. I kind of mentioned the fundraiser part, but forgot to tell him about the practice sessions.’

‘Maybe he already knows the moves?’ Something about the thought of the brooding man in jeans and cowboy boots was not unattractive.

Charlee spooned peas onto two warmed plates. ‘Or maybe he just doesn’t know the fundraiser has anything to do with dancing.’

‘Charlee!’ The girl looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and Amelia was torn between being appalled and amused. ‘You can’t let him turn up with no idea what’s going on. Remember Sean said the woman who runs it has a dress code? I’m pretty sure that expectation will extend to knowing the basic steps.’

‘Hey, I’m doing this for you.’ Charlee poured gravy over both plates of food. ‘We need someone in our team who is worse—impossible as that seems—at the moves than you and Daideó. That way, Mandy won’t focus on you guys. See? Pressure off.’

Amelia sat hurriedly, her knees weak with relief. Charlee was oblivious to her secret.

‘Anyway, if I tell Dad exactly what he’s agreed to, he might not come. Do you want to risk that?’ Charlee said, cutting a sideways gaze at her. Maybe not so oblivious, then.

‘No skin off my nose, but it’d be a shame to miss out on money for the—’ she waved a hand around, trying to recall what the fundraiser was for ‘—tennis club?’ Female company had been in short supply on the property, and she wasn’t accustomed to being teased. Surprisingly, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and she was almost tempted to laughingly admit to her crush.

Except it involved this girl’s grief-stricken father, so she could never go there.