It was a grey, dreary day, which kind of fitted Jena’s mood. Cade had tossed half the blankets off in the night and was still snoring, totally dead to the world.
And that was fine.
Probably better than fine.
She wanted to talk to Rose, and after last night she knew without a doubt that it was better to do it without Cade in the room.
She pulled on jeans and an old long-sleeved tee before putting her hair into a bun; she could brush it later. And then she was out the door and down the stairs, missing the creaky boards and hoping that Will was nowhere in sight.
Jena got lucky. The kitchen was empty, and when she paused outside the lounge there were no voices. She opened the door and stuck her head in. ‘Rose?’
The old woman was sleeping, blankets tucked right up to her chin. Jena paused and then entered the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She cleared her throat, but that didn’t wake Rose so she drew the curtains open and took a seat in the armchair beside the bed.
The faint smell of aftershave clung to the fabric, making her think that Will spent time sitting here. What did they talk about, these two people with nothing in common other than a working arrangement? He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to take up this line of work, but then, she didn’t know him. Didn’t want to know him, either; just wanted him out of here so that she could do what she needed to.
Find out the truth.
She let out a sigh, her gaze settling on Rose. Time hadn’t really changed her that much. Sure, the wrinkles were deeper, her skin softer, more fragile, but there was still that same structure to her face, even if her nose and cheekbones were sharper, more prominent. She’d gone past that softness of old age, and into the pointed end of life.
Rose’s eyes fluttered open. She sniffed and tried to pull herself up. Jena moved to help, shifting the pillows until Rose was comfortable. Then she sat back down and caught Rose’s gaze.
‘How are you really?’ Jena asked. ‘I got the abbreviated version from Pat and David, and Will’s kind of skirting around the issue as though you should be the one to tell me. So, what’s happening? Are you actually dying or are you going to get through this?’
Rose laughed. ‘You haven’t really changed. Did you know that? Ever impatient. Always wanting to know it all right now.’
Jena smiled, though her stomach clenched. ‘You haven’t really changed either. You always did like to make me wait for the answers.’
‘Or for you to figure them out for yourself,’ Rose corrected. ‘That was the preferred option. Did it do you any good?’
‘What, having to go find the answers for myself?’ Jena raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. Besides, some things you can only learn about from the source.’
‘The fire,’ Rose said quietly.
‘The fire,’ Jena echoed. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, her next words sticking there before she forced them out. ‘Was it me?’
Rose frowned in confusion as she shook her head. ‘What do you mean?’
Jena exhaled, her shoulders sagging. ‘Oh, come on, it’s not that hard. Did. I. Cause. The. Fire. Was it me who got everyone killed?’ She sucked her bottom lip in, chewing on it to stop herself from saying more.
Rose let out a long sigh before she reached out her hand. Jena slipped her fingers into Rose’s grasp, once again surprised by the soft fragility of her grandmother’s skin.
‘No. You didn’t cause the fire,’ Rose said, clear and firm. ‘That wasn’t anything to do with you.’
‘Then why did you send me away like that?’ Jena hated the sorrow in her voice, the pre-pubescent whine. It was like she was ten years old again, with soot on her hands from where she’d scraped through the still warm ashes before her aunt had picked her up, trying to find any trace of her family. ‘You were all I had left.’
The lines around Rose’s eyes bunched with emotion and she squeezed Jena’s hand tighter. ‘It wasn’t your fault, I promise you that. It was the worst, hardest night of my life and the only thing I could think to do was send you somewhere safe, away from here.’ She shook her head. ‘We talked about this. I thought you understood.’
‘I tried to. I really wanted to.’ Jena bit her lip, the pain pushing back the tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t want to cry now. Didn’t want to give Rose an excuse to stop talking about this. ‘You were all I had left, though, and you didn’t want me. I’ve always thought that maybe it was my fault. That I’d done something wrong. But I didn’t want to ask … I didn’t want to know for sure.’ She looked up, into Rose’s eyes. ‘But I need to know before you die. Before it’s too late. I have these dreams ….’
Rose sat up straighter. ‘Dreams?’
‘Yeah, about that night. About other nights. Full of birds and feathers and fire. There is so much about my childhood that I don’t remember. So much that I think I must have blocked out.’ Jena dropped Rose’s hand and leaned back in her chair, putting some distance between them. ‘And you just abandoned me.’
‘Oh, little bird. I never meant to abandon you. I wanted you to have a fresh start, a clear future, unburdened by the past.’ Rose licked her dry lips, her hand shaking as she reached for the glass of water. Jena got up and grabbed it, bringing it to Rose’s lips and helping her to drink. When the old woman was done, she put it on the bedside table and sat back down.
Jena pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. ‘I don’t think we get to decide how other people experience life,’ she said, plucking at the fabric on the arm of the chair. ‘And I don’t think you picked right, but I guess we can’t change that.’
She let out a sigh and glanced around the room, noticing things she hadn’t before.
‘I feel like a stranger here, like there are parts of me I can’t even remember existing. But I walk down the hallway and I can see them – my brother running, giggling. I can smell Mama cooking in the kitchen, and when it gets late and the sun starts to drop, I know I’ll pause, waiting to hear Dad’s boots on the porch, waiting for him to push open the door and hug her, to hear her laugh at the way his beard tickles her cheeks.’
Silence hung between them for a moment, and the tears she’d held back slipped free, tumbling down her cheeks.
‘It’s like they’re still here. Frozen in time,’ Rose said softly. ‘That hasn’t changed, not since you left. I don’t think they are ghosts as such, just echoes, remnants of the past. There’s something about this place, Jena. Something not quite right, and that was the other reason I sent you away. I was worried ….’
Jena snapped her gaze back to Rose. ‘Worried about what?’
Rose sighed. ‘It’s not time, not yet, but I will tell you. I promise. Just give me a few days. Let me enjoy your company.’ Her eyes implored patience, but Jena didn’t have any to spare. She couldn’t summon the energy to feel mad, though.
Just disappointed.
‘You’ll probably take it to your grave. Leave me hanging for as long as you can. Whatever.’ Jena stood up, tossing the blanket on the chair before opening the door and closing it behind her. She leaned against the frame and inhaled, trying not to let more tears spill out. She didn’t want to be sad, didn’t want to be frustrated any more.
At least Rose had cleared one thing up; Jena hadn’t been responsible for the death of her family. But if it hadn’t somehow been her fault, what had happened? Who had set the barn on fire? And the blood she saw in her dreams – whose was it?
Jena pushed off from the door and headed for the kitchen, where she slathered a piece of bread with peanut butter and put the kettle on. Coffee, and then she was going searching. She’d find some answers even if her grandmother wouldn’t give her any.
Maybe that was what Rose wanted; maybe it had always been about this.
She was just about to head upstairs with her mug when Will came in.
‘Sleep okay?’ he asked. His hair was ruffled, as though he’d been out in the wind. He glanced at her and then away. ‘Thought I heard you in the night.’
‘Nightmares.’ She shrugged and waited for him to look back. ‘I’m sorry if I woke you. It’s not always bad, but being here ….’
‘No need to apologise. It’s fine. I hope you can get more rest tonight. Got much planned for the day?’
Jena chewed the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t really thought past seeing Rose, and she couldn’t tell him she was about to ransack the old woman’s bedroom. ‘No. Not really. Thought I’d take Cade out on the farm, show him some of my old haunts.’
‘Sounds fun. Let me know if you need anything,’ he said, then added, ‘and don’t forget you’re on dinner tonight.’ He winked as he passed her, and Jena looked over her shoulder to follow him out of the room, trying to figure him out.
‘Okay then,’ she said under her breath. She picked up her coffee mug and got moving.
When she was up the stairs, she opened the door to Rose’s room and shut it behind her. There was no lock on this one, but hopefully no one would think to look for her here. She set her mug down on a piece of paper on the dresser, not wanting to leave a ring on the wood, and then she scanned the room.
Where to start?
She’d spent barely any time in here as a child. Sometimes they’d dare each other to go and hide in the closet because it was out of bounds unless Rose invited you in, so all she remembered were the rows of clothes on hangers, the boxes, the smell of camphor. Sometimes Rose would bring her in and sit her down at the dressing table. She’d brush out Jena’s long hair and sing her songs, the words to which Jena had long since forgotten, and then let her try on some of the jewellery from the big, intricately carved box that took pride of place right in the centre of the dressing table. Once, she’d even let her wear the pounamu, but only for a few minutes.
Jena went to the dresser now, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. Her vision blurred, meshing her memory with her current sight. She could hear the vague hum of the song in the background. Jena trailed her fingers over the wood of the jewellery box and then she opened it, letting the heavy lid thud against the thick, warped mirror. So many treasures and trinkets, so much history she knew nothing about. Would continue to know nothing about, at this rate. She closed the lid, the old fear of being caught with Rose’s prized jewels stealing over her, and turned her attention to the drawers, opening them one at a time, not even sure what she was looking for.
In the bottom drawer, under some old nightshirts, she found a journal and pulled it out. Its pages were brittle and spotted with age. She flipped the cover open and saw the scrawl of Rose’s handwriting. 1966. Fuck, that was from way back. Jena did the maths. Her aunt would have been about seven and her mother three. There were notes about the weather, and when they’d started using the fire that year, when the first lambs had been born. All of that stuff.
And then something cryptic.
Had to dig up the patch of garden under the oak tree. Have planted roses. They were always Ernest’s favourite.
Ernest? That was her grandfather’s name. Not that she’d ever met him. He’d only been a photo on the wall to her, frozen in time, probably not much older than Jena was now. Why had Rose dug up the garden, and why plant roses? The man had abandoned her, so it seemed a strangely sentimental act to plant the flowers he’d loved so much.
Another mystery. One she could either ask about, or solve for herself.
There was a knock on the door and Jena shoved the journal back into the drawer and closed it just as the door opened.
It was Cade.
‘I’ve looked in just about every room for you,’ he said, stepping inside. ‘This is your grandmother’s?’ He looked around, and then his eyes fell on the dressing table. The jewellery box. ‘What’s that?’
Jena moved in front of it, not wanting him to get a better view. ‘Just junk stuff, you know. Old, crappy things. Are you ready for some breakfast?’ she asked, standing. ‘I could kill another coffee. I thought maybe we could go for a little walk. I could show you some of the farm.’ She stepped towards him, stroking his arm with her fingers and looking up at him with a coy smile.
‘Oh, a “walk”. Nice.’ He nodded, grinning hard. ‘Hey, did you ask about the internet?’
Jena frowned and moved past him, making sure to pull the door shut once he was through. ‘No, I didn’t. We’ll ask Will when we see him. You know him as well as I do, it’s not like I belong here any more than you. Come on.’
She grabbed him by the hand, letting the sensation of his skin against her palm ground her, and led him downstairs.
The hallway clock struck nine as they walked past, and her stomach rumbled in response. It didn’t feel that late, but then it had been a weird morning with time standing still occasionally, the past throwing her off course. She headed straight for the fridge and pulled out some bacon and eggs, arranging them on the counter.
‘I wonder if there are still chickens,’ she said, recalling the times she’d spent herding them in the paddock or hunting high and low for the eggs they never seemed to lay in their boxes. She and Joel had made it a competition on more than one occasion, trying to find the most eggs, loser did the other’s chores for the night. ‘Maybe we can go and have a look.’ She smiled at Cade, but he was looking at his phone, completely ignoring her. She smacked him on the arm. ‘Hey, I thought you said you weren’t getting any signal. Just put it away.’
‘No, I seem to have something now. It kind of drops out at random, and I can still get text messages. And calls.’ He finally looked up at her.
‘And who are you expecting a call from?’ She raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. ‘No one. Just, you know, trying to see where the best local surf spots are.’
‘Uh huh, already itching to get back to your turf. I see.’ She elbowed him, grinning. ‘Why don’t you go into town once we get back from our walk, and get some supplies. You can grab a coffee and browse the internet to your heart’s content.’ She was half joking about the latter, so the relief that washed over his face surprised her.
‘That sounds amazing, thanks babe.’ He kissed her on the cheek and slipped his phone into his pocket. ‘Right. Breakfast time.’