29 AMELIA

29 Amelia

‘Where’s the rest of the crew?’ Amelia asked, looking over Heath’s shoulder and across the garden. It was winter-bleak, but the season would be over soon. For the first time in years, the thought of spring brought her a little joy.

‘Drove myself.’ Heath looked like he was trying—and failing—not to sound too pleased with himself.

‘That’s awesome.’ Instinctively, she knew that he was also feeling the stirrings of spring, the promise and potential of new starts.

‘Dad got a call from the doc,’ he continued. ‘Wouldn’t tell me exactly what it was about, but he seems pleased as punch with himself, and headed off to celebrate with an extra AA meeting … however that works.’ Heath’s lips quirked and Amelia quickly shifted her gaze back to his car. ‘I ran him into Murray Bridge to take the bus to the city.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you before dinner.’ She’d done a good job of hiding the funny little kick her heart gave when she opened the door to his knock, though.

‘Ah. Sorry.’ He ran a hand through thick black hair, shot with silver. ‘I figured I’d take a chance on you being here, not at work.’

‘Didn’t fancy facing Faelie?’

‘Didn’t fancy Faelie full stop. That’s why I’m here.’

The implication flustered her. ‘It was my last day yesterday, anyway.’ She gestured into the house. ‘Coming in?’

‘In a minute. Thing is—’ again, that nervous rearrangement of his hair ‘—I’ve got something for you. In the car.’

She laughed, her confidence restored by Heath’s apparent insecurity. ‘You know that sounds like a pervy “look in my van, I’ve got puppies” kind of line, don’t you?’ She grabbed the pair of tall ugg boots from alongside the door and started tugging them on. Spring might be around the corner, but the cement garden path would be like ice.

‘Well, I do have a sack of lupins in there for the kids.’

She liked the way Heath referred to their shared sheep as ‘the kids’. He offered a hand to steady her as she balanced on one foot to tug on the second boot.

And then he didn’t release his grip, instead drawing her with him along the path.

She felt ridiculously like a teenager, holding hands for the first time—although that had never been a part of her experience. Station life hadn’t lent itself to either hand-holding or flirting. Even Tim had been more of a business proposition: a good wrangler, a reliable farmhand, a decent-looking bloke. He hadn’t swept her off her feet—she’d argue she was far too grounded for anyone to do that—he’d simply been a sensible choice, a good partner for her to build a life with.

So what was with this weird breathlessness she now felt, her desire to concentrate on the places Heath’s skin touched hers, as though she expected there to be some kind of transfer of thought or emotion?

‘I owe you an apology,’ Heath said as they reached the car. ‘Weeks back, I made a stupid comment about your maternal streak. Though I’m not taking that back.’

‘Interesting way to apologise,’ she said, her fingers slipping from his as her hand curled into a defensive fist.

‘I’m apologising for the way I used the word. I failed to respect how much of an asset that part of your character is,’ Heath said, putting a hand on her arm to draw her to a standstill. ‘The way you look after all these lost, hurt animals is nothing short of amazing. But even more importantly, I see it in the way you’ve helped my daughter.’

‘I can’t claim any kudos for that. Charlee’s rescuing herself.’

‘You’ve given her a soft place to land. You’re providing something she desperately needs; something I couldn’t give her, no matter how much I wanted to. And … you’re doing the same for me.’ Again, that hand through his hair. ‘I’m not great with expressing it, but you’re helping us heal, Amelia.’

It took her a second to find words. ‘You know it’s mutual, Heath. I have healing of my own that I need to do, but I’d refused to let my wounds scab over. It felt like … allowing love would mean that I’m trying to replace what I’ve lost; that I’m forgetting Noah, instead of honouring his memory. So I’d been avoiding letting myself feel anything that might turn to love. Oh!’ What had she just said? ‘I mean, I love Charlee. And Sean. And the animals, of course …’

Heath’s hand cupped the side of her face. ‘I think love comes in many forms, Amelia.’ His words were low. ‘I know that I love you.’

She froze.

‘Right now, you’re my best friend in the world.’

The lurch of disappointment restarted Amelia’s heart with an almighty clunk. She nodded, forcing a smile. ‘That’s a far better way of putting it than my awkward phrasing. I’ve made so many friends since coming to Settlers.’ She waved a hand around stupidly, as though trying to draw in all the residents. ‘Tracey, Sam, Roni and Matt …’ She’d even claim old Dave Jaensch, if it helped dig her out of this hole she’d dropped herself in.

Heath shook his head, his palm still warm on her cheek, his face entirely too close to hers. ‘I don’t love you for what you’ve done for my family, Amelia—though I do love what you’ve done. I love you for so much more. But the thing is—’ he frowned, though his scarred eyebrow didn’t move ‘—I don’t know that we can be more than this. It wouldn’t be fair to Charlee. Or to Sophie. But if I believed I could love that way again, Amelia, it would be you.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ she gabbled, pulling away from him. ‘That’s pretty much what I was trying to say.’ More like what she’d just disavowed, but hopefully Heath wouldn’t notice, as he bent to lift a puppy from a crate in the back of his car.

Vivid blue eyes beseeched her from beneath the trademark golden eyebrows of the chocolate-coloured kelpie Heath held out to her. A honey-coloured blaze surrounded his snout and extended either side of the puppy’s face, so he appeared to be smiling with hopeful eagerness.

This was love, Amelia realised, taking the warm, milky-smelling bundle into her arms. She didn’t need anything more complicated, more risky, more demanding than this. She was an idiot to allow herself to be seduced by Irish eyes and brooding charm. Hell, Heath wasn’t even charming. He was … morose and unfathomable. Not at all what she needed or wanted.

Heath opened the driver’s door. ‘You said a few months back that you’d like a dog, but that you didn’t stay in any one place long enough to make it feasible. Now you’re sticking around, I thought maybe it was the right time. Plus, this guy is the runt.’ He gave a sheepish grin. ‘And I just realised that makes him sound like a lousy gift.’ He pressed his lips together, as if holding back his words. ‘But if anyone can give this pup a second chance, I know it’s you.’

She had no idea what to wear.

‘Come on,’ Charlee said petulantly. ‘You’ve tried on literally everything, Amelia. We’re only going to the Overland.’ She indicated the mound of clothes that spilled from the bed onto the floor, where she sat with the puppy. ‘What’s with this fuss?’

‘There’s no fuss,’ Amelia snapped. This was because Heath said that he couldn’t love her. Because she suddenly regretted every minute she’d spent in the sun that had weathered her face beyond her years. Because her roughened hands, toughened by yard work, snagged on the smooth material of anything even vaguely approaching nice.

‘Well, Dad’s seen you wearing everything from your boring office clothes to Dusty poop, and he still likes you. So can we just get going? I’m starving .’ The teenager teased the puppy with a rope bone, which Heath had provided, along with a basket, toys, a bowl and food.

Yeah, because Heath thought of everything. Everything except what his words had done to her. How he’d undermined the tiny bit of progress she’d made in accepting that maybe she could have a life after loss. ‘You know what? I think I’ll stay back. It’s not fair to leave Chance alone already.’

‘Why are you calling him Chance?’

Because, so briefly, there had been a chance Heath cared for her. A chance her life could go on. ‘Because it fits well with Karmaa and Kismet.’

‘Well, we’ll leave the radio on for Chance. And we’ll only be an hour. Or we could take turns staying home with him?’

‘I’ll stay. This is your family dinner, Charlee. I don’t need to be there.’

‘According to Dad, you do.’

The teen sounded unusually surly, and Amelia frowned. ‘I’ll skip it, Charlee.’

‘Dad will pitch a fit.’ Charlee sighed. ‘It’s just a bit weird, you know?’ She held the puppy up near her face and their matching beseeching gazes were almost comical. ‘We’ve never had a family dinner with … someone else.’

‘Your dad and grandfather must have other friends?’

‘Yeah, friends , right.’

She heard the tremble in the teen’s voice and understood instantly. Although Charlee seemed intent on pushing her and Heath together, she was afraid she was being disloyal to her mother. Betrayal and guilt, the ever-present companions of grief.

‘Your dad and I are just friends, you know.’

Charlee snorted. ‘You sound like you’re fourteen, not thirty-four.’

Amelia fumbled the hairbrush. God, Charlee was right. While she wouldn’t pretend that Heath’s seesawing emotions hadn’t hurt her, she could understand—far too perfectly—where he was coming from. Both he and Charlee trod the path she had travelled for the last three years, the one where every moment of joy seemed a betrayal, every happiness a disloyalty. And she knew there was no way to step off that path: the journey continued without a destination, but eventually each footfall fell a little more softly, the past would judge a little less harshly.

Heath was compassionate, tortured, focused on what was best for his family, yet he’d made space for her, listened to her stories of Noah, helped her untangle her own emotions. This man was worthy of the same regard from her. Healing took a long time—perhaps forever, if her own scarred heart was any measure. But she wasn’t running anywhere, either physically or emotionally. She would give Heath the time he needed.

‘Wear that top.’ Charlee pointed at a soft knit. ‘It’s prettier. And Dad likes pink. Not that he’s man enough to wear it himself. Ethan does, though, have you noticed?’

She was surprised by the note of adulation in Charlee’s voice. ‘Didn’t you tell me the other week that you guys are just mates?’

‘That’s not exactly what I said,’ Charlee replied. ‘I said that we’re not an item. There’s always hope, though, right?’

She sounded unusually plaintive, and while it was a relief to discover that the relationship hadn’t been concocted solely to hurt Heath, Amelia was immediately concerned. Charlee already seemed more fragile today than she had for some time. ‘Maybe. Speaking of almost-boyfriends, can you see if Dusty’s back? There’s been a male magpie hanging around lately, trying to persuade her to fly off somewhere. And give Karmaa and Kismet an extra scoop of the grain your dad brought. Then we’d better get a move on. No excuse for being late when the pub is a two-minute walk from home.’

‘That one’s on you,’ Charlee said, scrambling to her feet. ‘I was ready an hour ago.’

‘Yeah, but you also pinched my favourite shirt, which is why it’s taken me so long to find something.’

‘Looks amazing, Lynnie,’ Sean said half an hour later as the pub owner delivered plates mounded with golden fried seafood. ‘But it’ll be even better if you take a wee minute to sit with us.’

Lynn chuckled. ‘Get off with you. You no more need me here than you need a blowfly at a barbie.’

‘Pull up a chair, just for five minutes,’ Sean insisted, and Amelia realised that he was looking beyond Lynn. She followed his line of sight to a bald man sitting at the bar, watching them intently.

‘Just for a moment then, loveys,’ Lynn said, sliding onto the chair alongside Charlee. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask how your lambs are getting on, Amelia?’

She’d been expecting the question for weeks, but being forewarned didn’t stop the unpleasant swoop of her stomach. ‘They’re weaned now, so I’ll move them out of your back garden soon,’ she promised.

‘Out? What on earth for?’

‘Well … because they’re sheep. In town.’

Lynn laughed. ‘No, they’re your pets, in Settlers Bridge. That house didn’t have much of a back garden anyway, and as long as they’re not bothering Tracey next door, they certainly aren’t bothering me. If it means keeping you, I’m all for having the sheep there.’

Sean had been right; she’d worried for nothing. ‘Thanks, Lynn.’

‘No problem, lovey,’ Lynn said, then broke off with a giggle as Sean draped an arm around the back of her chair and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

‘You’re a good egg, Lynnie.’

‘Goodness, all this flattery, you’ll have me looking for more things to set right, Sean.’

Amelia noticed the bald man at the bar had half-stood, keeping his stool by hooking the toe of his shoe through it as if he couldn’t quite commit. ‘Is there—’ she started, but Sean shook his head and winked. She had no idea what he was up to, but she trusted him, so held her tongue.

‘I think there are plenty of us willing to go to lengths to keep Amelia here,’ Heath said.

‘I don’t have any plans to leave,’ she stated carefully. ‘In fact, I’m going to start looking for some property.’

‘You’ll want to speak to Elaine down at the real estate office, then,’ Lynn said. ‘Though I did hear that the Jaensches are looking to sell a small parcel of land, just a couple of hundred acres, so they can consolidate closer to their farm.’

‘Dave Jaensch?’ Amelia asked.

‘No, Pete. Indigo’s dad. She was in here earlier, grabbing a takeaway. Her mum does some kind of Greek feast every so often, but she buys the seafood ready cooked. I know Daniel over at the Settlers has been angling for an invite from Indi for years. Though I’m not sure it’s the food he’s after.’

‘It’s a pretty cool name,’ Charlee said. ‘Indigo, I mean. Shame some of us couldn’t have had something half-decent like that.’ She rolled her eyes at Heath.

Amelia flinched. No doubt Heath and Sophie would have agonised over what to name their baby. It had taken her and Tim months to settle on Noah’s name. ‘Hey, give your dad a break,’ she murmured, but copped one of Charlee’s withering scowls. The girl could definitely be mercurial, today more so than usual. But that was okay; she was healing. Amelia suspected that even without her mother’s death, Charlee would have been hard work.

‘I was meaning to ask, Heath,’ Amelia said as she passed the crust of her garlic bread to Charlee, ‘are you free to come to Keith any time soonish? I need to collect Gavin.’ She’d meant to say his ashes, but couldn’t bring herself to.

‘You’re going flying again? Together?’ Charlee demanded.

Amelia blinked at the vehemence in the girl’s tone. ‘Yeah. I mean, if your dad wants to.’

Charlee pushed the bread away. ‘Why do you have to go together? In fact, why do you have to go at all?’

‘I have to go because I promised Gavin I’d spread his ashes from the plane,’ Amelia said carefully.

‘That’s just stupid,’ Charlee snarled. ‘He’s already dead—’

‘Charlee!’ Sean exclaimed.

‘But you’re risking your lives for him.’

‘You didn’t have a problem when Amelia and I flew before,’ Heath pointed out.

‘Oh, I had a problem all right,’ Charlee spat furiously. ‘But I couldn’t say anything because Amelia was already mad with me. So I had to suck it up. But now … now …’ She shook her head, unusually lost for words. Tears glistened in her eyes.

Amelia’s mind flicked back to Charlee’s relief when she’d returned from the flight the previous month. ‘Flying is relatively safe,’ she said gently.

‘“Relatively” means nothing. Get Gavin’s bloody ashes posted here and sprinkle them in a breeze or something …’

‘Charlee—’ Heath reached across the table for his daughter’s hand ‘—much as we might want it, Amelia’s not going to give up flying because we’re afraid for her. She told you, she made a promise—’

‘And you’ve both made promises to me about sticking around,’ Charlee cried, leaping up from her seat.

‘ Macushla ,’ Sean said, ‘no one’s leaving. In fact, I have some good news.’

Charlee put the fingertips of both hands to her forehead like she was trying to physically control her emotions. ‘The only good news I want to hear is that everyone I love is going to stay safe. But that’s never going to be the case, because you’re all full of shit!’ She snatched her bag from the back of the chair. ‘You know what, oxy is literally the only thing that never lets me down.’ She spun around and dashed from the pub.

Amelia was on her feet before anyone else. ‘I’ll go,’ she said as the rest of the restaurant held their breath, staring at their devastated little group.

Heath slumped, looking down at his hands on the table, utterly defeated. ‘There’s no point me going, is there? I thought we’d finally turned a corner. But this … I can’t do this again.’

‘Charlee’s not relapsing,’ Amelia said firmly. She had no experience with drugs, no knowledge of their evil hold, no understanding of how to break the cycle. But she knew Charlee. She knew what the girl needed. Suddenly, she was angry with Heath.

‘You know what? You’re bloody well coming with me. There’s no opt-out clause on parenting.’ She leaned across the table and seized his hand, tensing muscles that hadn’t been properly used for the last few years to tug him to his feet, muscles that had been formed labouring on the property she’d loved, for the life she’d thought she would love forever. Now those muscles would be used to rescue this man she cared for. If she had to, she would force Heath to face his love for his daughter, even though she understood that he hid from the fear of the pain that losing Charlee would cause.

‘Amelia, you don’t understand,’ he protested as he followed her from the hotel. ‘Charlee doesn’t want me. She wants her mother.’

‘No, she doesn’t.’ She pointed down the street to where Charlee walked slowly below the old-fashioned street lamps, the pools of yellow light guiding her down to the inky night-time river. ‘She wants to know how to live without her mother. And you’re the only person who can help her with that.’

Heath shook his head and Amelia tightened her grip. She would drag him all the way to the river, if that’s what it took to make this stubborn man understand. ‘I know that you’re not ready to let Sophie go, Heath. But Charlee wants to know that she’s allowed to live her life. And she can’t do that until you give her permission.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to do that when I can’t … I haven’t …’

‘Haven’t moved on yourself? Everyone’s journey is different, Heath. I think that’s what went wrong with Tim and me: he moved to acceptance months—no, years before I did. And I couldn’t forgive him for that. But you … you have to let Charlee know that whenever she can accept her mum has gone, that’s just fine. She doesn’t have to match your timeline for grief. It’s not fair to expect her to stay stuck forever.’

Heath’s fingers tightened around hers. ‘Come with me?’

She knew he wasn’t afraid of his own daughter; he was afraid that allowing Charlee to let go of Sophie would mean he’d also lose his wife.

‘Of course.’

Charlee had moved beyond the last puddle of light and Amelia’s heart stopped. Then she made out the girl, a shadow on the darkness of the riverbank, near the water’s edge. She nudged Heath forward.

‘Charlee …’ he said, but then seemed to run out of words. He turned to Amelia, his face pale and lost in the moonlight.

She picked her way across the damp grass and took Charlee’s unresisting hand. Stood with the girl and stared into the timeless flow as the river channelled through the millennia: immeasurable, unstoppable, impassive. So many lives had been lived and lost on the banks of this waterway. So many tragedies, so many loves. And yet not one had changed the course of the majestic river.

‘I couldn’t bear to look at the water for so long after I lost Noah,’ she said softly.

Charlee didn’t answer, but nor did she pull away.

‘But now it’s my connection to him.’

Should she share? This was the last of her secrets, and if she spoke it in front of Heath and Charlee, it would no longer belong only to her and Noah.

Amelia closed her eyes for a long moment. Noah was beyond her reach, but these people were here and they needed her now. If, wherever he was, someone could help her child, she prayed for them to do so. And in return she would give all she could here.

‘Sometimes I make little leaf boats and float them to Noah.’

Heath took Charlee’s other hand, but she didn’t turn to look at her father.

Amelia felt a shudder ripple through the girl. ‘I don’t have a connection to Mum. There’s nothing.’ Her voice was more mournful than the haunting night call of a curlew drifting across the river.

‘You have your dad, Charlee. He’s always going to be your connection.’

‘But you and him … where does Mum even fit in?’

Amelia glanced at Heath, waiting for him to deny that there was anything between them.

‘That’s life, Charlee,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a puzzle, and all we can do is make the pieces fit together as best we can.’

‘But I miss her,’ Charlee whispered tremulously.

‘Me too,’ Heath said simply. ‘But moving on doesn’t mean we lose the memories, Charlee. You and me, we share them. We keep them alive by talking about them any time you want. Mum is no longer here and we don’t have to keep punishing ourselves for that. It’s okay to continue living.’

Amelia hoped that Heath was persuading himself of the truth of his own words. She knew he was capable of deep thought, of working to untangle his emotions. But she also realised that he was loyal and steadfast.

He reached to pluck a narrow leaf from the gum tree that overhung them. ‘Moving on doesn’t mean we love Mum any less, Charlee. It just means that we are alive.’

Charlee took the leaf with trembling fingers. She pressed it to her lips. ‘I’ll always love you, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘To infinity and beyond.’ She leaned forward and tossed the leaf into the river. ‘Goodbye.’ She spun into Heath’s embrace, her entire body shaking as she sobbed.

Heath’s gaze met Amelia’s over his daughter’s head. Tears streamed down his rugged face. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed.