28 SEAN

28 Sean

‘You’re bringing Amelia tonight?’ Charlee gloated, peeling the lid off the Tupperware full of biscuits Tracey had pressed on Sean after the meeting yesterday. She offered them to her dad, but then pulled them back, as though they were payment if he answered her question correctly.

Sean winced. He didn’t want his granddaughter making Heath second-guess the invitation to Amelia, particularly as having the woman at the dinner might make his revelation easier. At least he’d know that Heath had someone there to lean on.

‘Is Ethan coming, too?’ he interrupted Charlee’s glee.

She pouted. ‘No. He’s got other stuff on.’

Alarm bells rang louder than the spoon Charlee tapped on her mug. Charlee was doing so well, but they had to keep things smooth for her, make the right path the easy one to take. ‘Do you think maybe you should spend more time in the city? I’m sure Amelia’s fine without you now.’

Charlee shot him a withering look. ‘Amelia likes to pretend she’s fine, but she needs me. Ethan’s just narked because I got hats for you and Dad, but didn’t find him one.’

Sean hoped his son recognised the significance of Charlee’s words. Heath had already had a grumble about wearing an Akubra to the dance, but after treating him like a pariah for two years, Charlee had prioritised her father over her boyfriend.

‘And I’m going to rock that hat,’ Heath said firmly. ‘Like you said, Charlee, if I can’t dance, I can at least look the part.’

‘Just stick with the Nutbush, you’ll be fine.’ Sean chuckled, knowing it wasn’t true. The line dancing had proved both surprisingly strenuous and unexpectedly enjoyable, considering he’d only gone into it to help out Lynn.

‘The Nutbush might carry you through the dance next week, but how are you going to rescue tonight, Dad?’ Charlee asked, assuming a sweetly innocent look.

‘What do you mean?’

Charlee rolled her eyes at Heath’s deliberate misunderstanding of her teasing. ‘If you wanted to take Amelia out , you could at least have sprung for Gabby’s place.’

‘Gabby’s?’

Sean knew his son would trot out the line about Amelia being nothing but a friend, or perhaps try to pass her off as a RAG colleague. And maybe he should; despite the advice he’d given Heath about no one replacing Sophie, Charlee was only just coming good. They didn’t need to spark her grieving process again.

Charlee’s sigh held all the long-suffering resignation only a teen could muster. ‘Gabrielle’s. The Wattle Seed Inn. Apparently she’s got this hot Italian chef out there doing event dinners. Jeez, Dad, you’ve been living here more than a year, how can you not know what’s going on? I do and I’ve only just moved in.’

‘If you’ve moved here, do I terminate your lease in the city? Either way—’ Heath shrugged dismissively ‘—just let me know what you want to do.’

He hid his excitement well, Sean thought. But then, Heath had always known how to play his daughter.

Charlee screwed up her nose like she didn’t care. ‘I reckon Amelia will need me here full-time for the travelling farm nursery. And I’ve promised to help Tracey out with her stuff, so I’ll be pretty full-on.’

‘Okay. No worries,’ Heath said, still sounding disinterested. ‘I’ll cancel the lease, get your gear brought back here.’

‘I was thinking, though—’ there was a note of uncertainty in Charlee’s voice ‘—that it’s dumb to just quit on my degree. Well, actually, Ethan said that. I still don’t know why I’m doing it, but maybe I’ll drop to part-time. Just about everything can be done online, and I’ll chip away at it over the next three years or so. Kind of like Ethan’s done with his Master’s. Make sure I keep my head busy.’

Sean recognised that for what it was: distraction, keeping her mind away from the addiction. ‘Not a bad plan, macushla .’

‘Will Ethan stay in town or move in with you?’ Heath asked. Before Sean had a chance to soften the question he was sure would come across as judgemental, Heath pointed to the hallway. ‘Time I got around to unpacking some of those boxes from the spare room. You’d have plenty of space for the two of you.’

Charlee chewed on her lip. ‘He’ll stay in the city. Anyway, you know we’re not really a thing, right? I was just shit-stirring you.’ She refused to meet either of their eyes, and Sean realised that Charlee was ashamed of her deliberately provocative deception. The fact that she now had that level of realisation, of caring, was nothing short of a miracle. Hell, he hoped Heath wouldn’t blow it by overreacting.

Heath stood, putting his mug in the sink. ‘No worries.’ He sounded so casual, it was almost like he’d already known about Ethan. ‘Speaking of accommodation, you going to come and check out those stables? It’s almost spring, so if you’re planning on picking up lambs and calves and whatever else, we’d best get ready.’

‘Amelia and I decided we need a cria first.’

Heath looked like he shared Sean’s confusion. ‘What’s that, some kind of animal trailer?’ he asked when Heath didn’t.

‘No. But Amelia’s picking up a float this weekend. Did you know she has an articulated vehicle licence? Anyway, a cria is a baby alpaca,’ Charlee said, with all the satisfied confidence of someone who’d recently learned the name. ‘Eventually, it’ll be able to protect our livestock. That’s what they’re bred for.’

‘Actually, I had some thoughts around that matter myself,’ Heath said. ‘Which reminds me, could you give me a lift this afternoon, Dad?’

‘Sure. I’ve got an appointment at three, but either side will work fine. Where to?’

‘I’ve got to ring for the address, but it’s local. Appointment where?’ Heath asked suspiciously.

Both of them knew that the only place in town that required appointments was the doctor’s, so there was no way Sean could fudge it. ‘Just calling by Taylor’s to pick up some results.’

Heath started to protest, to question, but Sean shook his head, lifting his chin toward Charlee; they couldn’t risk upsetting her. Tonight, when he had the final details and could sound confident and assured, would be more than soon enough to share. ‘Let’s go look at those sheds, then. Not like either of you have a leid what it is you’re checking, right?’ Like Charlee, he needed the distraction—but for once, it wasn’t to keep him away from the bottle. No, this next battle would be even bigger than that.

He stood and led his little family outside into the watery sunshine that promised spring wasn’t far off.

‘I reckon Mum would have liked it here,’ Charlee murmured an hour later, as they hung over the iron rails of the gate, gazing into the soothing murkiness of the barn.

‘You do?’ Sean said in surprise. Sophie had been all about beautifully presented rooms, stark white lines and perfectly arranged flowers. He couldn’t imagine her here, where the darkness smelled faintly of sweet hay rather than expensive triple-fragranced candles, and the only artwork was hung by spiders.

Heath caught his eye and shook his head slightly. He knew it was no place for Sophie, either. But, understandably, Charlee still needed to feel that her mum was nearby. How was that going to work with Amelia in their lives?

As though she read his thoughts, Charlee screwed up her face. ‘No, Mum would have hated it here.’ She chewed a nail, frowning. ‘That’s what’s making this whole thing so hard.’

‘What whole thing?’ Sean prompted.

‘Living somewhere else. The farm nursery. Just … everything. I feel like if I don’t mentally include Mum, it’s … I don’t know … disloyal, I guess. Like I’ve forgotten about her, or shoved aside her memory so I can do what I want without feeling guilty. And what makes it worse is that I know if she’d been here, then we wouldn’t have this.’ She gestured at the reassuring solidness of the more than century-old structure, the weathered beams atop eighteen-inch-thick walls wired to a roof of rusted iron sheets star-pricked with daylight. ‘No animal nursery. No Settlers Bridge. No Amelia. And the thought of that is horrible. Yet if I had to trade all of that to have Mum back—’ she bit her lip so hard it turned white and Sean clenched his hands, knowing what it felt like to make wishes that could never come true ‘—I don’t know if I would.’ Charlee dropped one foot heavily from the gate and slumped onto the top rail despondently.

Sean struggled not to let his chin hit the floor. He was wrong. He’d had no idea what his granddaughter was wishing.

Charlee groaned. ‘No, that’s stupid. Of course I would. But I don’t get to make the choice.’

‘Sometimes it’s better that way, Charlee,’ Heath said softly. ‘Sometimes the choice is so impossible that we freeze, make no choice, and lose everything. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to make a choice, whether it turns out to be right or wrong.’

‘But if you don’t get to live with the consequences, what was the point of even making that choice?’

‘I don’t know, Charlee. I don’t have all the answers for you. Or for me. All I know is that, thanks to Mum, I still have you.’ Heath draped an arm around Charlee’s shoulders. ‘And I still have her. Because that’s what family is. Not a constant. Not a lifelong gift. Always fluctuating. Tenuous. A shimmer like the aurora. But, above all, family, whether chosen or blood, is love. And that’s what Mum gave us: the chance to go on living and loving.’

Sean’s breath caught in his throat. His news tonight would destroy the hard-won peace Heath finally seemed to have found.

‘But it hurts, Dad.’

‘I know. It does.’ Heath’s arm tightened around Charlee’s shoulders. ‘But maybe instead of thinking how hard it is to have lost Mum, think about how lucky you were—we were—that we had someone worth mourning. Lots of people never have that.’

‘I’d rather be a bit less lucky,’ Charlee said.

Sean’s gaze was fixed on his son. What miracle had happened that Heath had finally realised that with love came tragedy, but that he didn’t have to remain in that moment forever? He suspected the miracle had a name, and he owed her a debt he’d never be able to repay. Well, he’d never have the opportunity to repay it; but the timing of Heath’s epiphany couldn’t have been better.

‘So, what are you thinking of keeping in the barn?’ he asked.

‘Like Dad said, it’d be unfair to turn the retired animals out into the paddocks without any human contact. But I was thinking, maybe this barn could be like a food hall?’

He couldn’t suppress his chuckle. ‘A food hall?’

‘Uh-huh. If we always fed the animals here at a regular time, wouldn’t they learn to come in from wherever they were on the farm?’

‘The grazers wouldn’t actually need feeding, though.’

‘Needs and wants, Daideó; not necessarily the same thing. If we gave them what was basically a treat food, they’d stay tame.’

‘I don’t think you’d have any problems with them going feral if they’d been hand-raised,’ Heath said. ‘Quite the opposite. I’m worried I’ll come out and find a full-grown bull trying to climb onto your lap for cuddles.’

‘Oh, I wish!’ Charlee exclaimed. ‘Have you seen those cows with the fringe hanging over their eyes and the enormous horns?’

‘Terrifying horns,’ Heath said.

‘Scottish longhorns,’ Sean supplied. ‘I went past a place at Kanmantoo with a few calves in the paddock a couple of weeks ago.’

‘You did?’ Charlee’s head whipped from him to Heath.

‘We’ll see,’ Heath said before she’d even started begging. ‘Though I reckon you can get miniature Highlands, so perhaps give that some thought. And maybe liaise with Roni to see what needs rescuing and rehoming first. It’s not like we don’t have plenty of room. There is a problem, though.’

‘What?’ Charlee said warily.

Sean tensed. They didn’t need problems; no speed humps, no hitches, no roadblocks. He wanted smooth sailing for his son and granddaughter.

‘Do we get two of every animal, so that they always have their own kind as company?’

‘Yes!’ Charlee squealed. Then she clapped a hand across her mouth. ‘Dad, do you think …’ She turned back to look at the barn, where the mica crystals in the stonework glinted as the sun thrust its fingers into the darkness. ‘Do you think we could section off an area in here for any baby animals that we’re bottle-feeding? You know, like Amelia did with Karmaa and Kismet. And then we could have the pairs of babies penned together, so they learn to get along. Like, all in the same area: two calves, two lambs, two goats, two alpaca …’

Sean chuckled. This list could potentially run long enough that the entire barn would be needed.

Heath shrugged. ‘Of course.’

‘And we could have a sign hanging above the stall.’

‘Fur and Feathers Farm, you mean?’ Heath said,

‘No, no, that’s the whole farm,’ Charlee said, unabashedly taking over the entire property. ‘But this is a special part. So we need a sign just for the nursery area.’ She looked down at her feet, scuffing her boot through the old hay. ‘For Amelia.’ She shook the over-long fringe she often hid behind from her eyes and met her father’s gaze. ‘Noah’s Ark.’

The vibrating of the phone in his back pocket interrupted what may well have been Sean’s happiest moment of the past two years. He pulled it out, flinching as the caller’s name flashed up. ‘I’ll just get this,’ he said, keeping the screen turned so Heath and Charlee wouldn’t see the display.

By the time he’d moved far enough away that they wouldn’t overhear him—although Heath seemed as invested in the planning of Noah’s Ark as Charlee, manhandling hay bales around to outline where the animal nursery could be set up—the phone had stopped ringing.

He returned the call and Doc Hartmann answered immediately, neither greeting him nor waiting for him to speak.

‘Sean, it’s not end stage.’

‘What?’

‘The results from the latest bloods are in. The markers indicate that you have chronic kidney failure, but it’s not end stage.’

His shoulder hit the stone wall of the implement shed. It seemed the only solid thing in his world. ‘What does that mean?’ He’d been to all the specialist appointments, knew the terminology, yet he hadn’t dared hope. He’d lived with this secret for so many weeks, done all the tests, secretly visited the dialysis unit in Murray Bridge. The specialists had been filled with doom and gloom, told him how dialysis could keep him alive for a couple more years, or a kidney transplant might give him a decade. He wouldn’t take an organ donation anyway: he didn’t deserve it; the damage to his body had been his own doing.

‘This isn’t a free pass, Sean,’ the doc cautioned, although she still managed to sound jubilant. ‘We need a plan to get your diabetes under control, and you have to keep on top of managing your kidney health. Kidneys aren’t like the liver, they can’t regenerate, so you dodged a bullet this time, but you have to baby them along. No second chances.’

‘I’m not dying?’ This was already a second chance. He slid down the wall of the shed, needing the connection to earth to anchor him. ‘I always thought it’d be my liver that gave up the fight. I deserved it, after all those years of drinking.’

‘No one deserves it, Sean,’ the doctor reproved. ‘And the jury is out on whether alcohol abuse affects kidneys. But in any case, the important takeaway is that your kidney disease is stage four. That’s not good: we can’t fix it. But we can look at managing the progression with the aim of preventing you from reaching ESKD.’

End stage kidney disease. That’s where he’d thought he was. ‘So no dialysis?’ The proposed treatment had been a guillotine hanging over his head because it meant accepting his fate, placing a termination date on his life.

‘No dialysis if you can keep your markers in stage four.’

‘Thanks—’ He paused, cleared his throat. ‘Thanks, Doc.’ He disconnected the call and dropped his head into his hands. His chest ached as he tried to control the sobs that wracked him.

He wasn’t dying. Charlee was winning against the demons she’d inherited from him. Heath was on his way to finding happiness again.

Life was good.