“Luke, could you please excuse us? The adults need to talk. How about you go play in your room for a little bit?” Caden sat relaxed, one arm draped over the back of kitchen chair, his long legs stretched out beneath the table. A square of morning light illuminated a patch of table and Thelma slid the butter out of its reach. Luke looked at each of the adults in turn and finding no ally dutifully climbed down off of his chair and scurried off down the corridor.
Lizzie shifted nervously in her seat. After yesterday’s startling kiss she had no idea what to expect from this man. He’d said he intended to make things magical. What exactly had he meant by that? She’d lain awake half the night trying to analyse his words. She couldn’t let herself believe the kiss meant anything, at least not what she wanted it to mean. How could it mean anything when they both knew she must leave?
Caden waited, listening for signs of Luke at play before he spoke. “Okay ladies, we need to talk about Angela’s ashes.”
Lizzie paled. Picking up her coffee cup she cradled it to her chest like some sort of shield. The urn containing her sister’s ashes sat in Caden’s office. Angela had written of her desire to have them scattered in her favourite places. Of course Caden couldn’t know Lizzie was already aware of Angela’s wishes. The letter had also said Caden and Luke would know where her favourite spots were so Lizzie held her tongue and waited to see what Caden would say.
“Angela made it very clear she wanted to remain here at Kirrkalan. So up front I want to ask if your family has any objections to this.” While he appeared relaxed Lizzie sensed a coiled tension in him.
She shook her head. “No objections,” she said even though she was certain she spoke a lie. Her parents expected Angela to be interned in the family plot, her father had said as much. One thing Lizzie had no doubts about was exactly how much her sister would hate to spend eternity spinning in an urn next to their mother. If they scattered the ashes here in Australia there would be very little anyone could do about it.
“Good.” Caden didn’t ask how she knew this. He assumed she spoke for her family. He couldn’t know she was merely the courier not really a true representative. “The next question is how we handle Luke. It’s got to be a traumatic event for a little boy.”
“I’ve never asked before, how did he take his mother’s death?” Lizzie placed her cup carefully on the table. Heavy conversation ahead!
“Badly, as you’d expect. He understands the concept of Heaven and he believes his mother is there.”
“Then how do we explain the ashes?” asked the ever practical Thelma. “Bit harsh to tell him it’s his mum all burnt up to a crisp.”
“You’ve got a point,” said Caden. “Any ideas?”
“I think we’ve got to be straight with him. Explain some people are buried while others choose cremation,” said Lizzie well aware of the irony of demanding honesty when she was hiding secrets herself.
“And you explain cremation to a five year old how exactly?” Thelma asked, her arms crossed over her ample chest. “I reckon we skip the bit about the burning up and go for something simpler.”
“You have the floor Thelma.” Caden deferred to the older woman’s wisdom.
“Simply tell him when his mummy’s soul flew to Heaven all that was left was these ashes. Don’t have to explain how the ashes came into being. He’ll find out soon enough in life. Just leave him with the image of his mother flying to God.”
“And how do we explain the scattering of the ashes?” Lizzie asked.
“Tell him we need to sprinkle a little in all his mother’s favourite places so the Earth will remember her.” Thelma shrugged. “He’ll understand that.”
“Elegant, Thelma.” Caden smiled at the housekeeper. “Any objections?” he asked Lizzie.
She thought of the indigenous artists she’d met in Yuendumu. They lived as part of the landscape, custodians of the land. The idea of scattering Angela’s remains on Kirrkalan so the Earth would remember her seemed poetic and fitting. “No objections,” she replied her voice firm. Another hard decision made. Maybe making tough calls would get easier with practice?
“Motion carried then. How about we do it today?” Caden stood up and began stacking his breakfast dishes.
“What?” Lizzie unfolded herself from her chair in startled haste. “But I’m not ready!”
“You’ve got time to shower and change. We’re not in a hurry. Thought we’d take the horses, ride out.” He proceeded to rinse his dishes in the sink casually as if they were discussing a picnic.
“No, I mean I’m not ready.”
“No one is ever ready to bury someone,” said Thelma pushing herself to her feet. “Sometimes you’ve just got to bite the bullet.”
Thelma was right, again. She could live here a year and she still wouldn’t be ready. Lizzie sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Can’t we do it tomorrow when I’ve had a little time to wrap my head around the idea?” She knew what the answer would be before Caden spoke.
“What’s to get your head around?” As good as a ‘no’ in her book.
“It just seems so sudden.” Her words sounded lame even to her own ears.
“Angela’s been dead for months now. There is nothing sudden about this. No need to make it a drama. We simply take her ashes on a ride with us and sprinkle a handful in each of her favourite places. We honour her. We’re not mourning her today.” He sounded so logical, so reasonable that she couldn’t come up with a single argument in her defence.
“Alright,” she conceded. There was no way around this. She would have to live through it as all awkward and challenging events needed to be lived through. “I’ll change into riding gear and have a chat with Luke…”
“No, I’ll speak with Luke. Might be easier coming from me. I was there when his mother died. We went through the grief together.”
Lizzie nodded, humbled. “Of course.” Angela’s family hadn’t comprised of the Langtrees in the end. She hadn’t seen fit to tell them she was dying of cancer. She hadn’t wanted them there.
Caden left to prepare Luke for the day’s events and Lizzie wandered to her room to change her clothes. Apprehension gripped her. What emotions might the day uncover? After a life lived so low under the radar no one thought to bother her here she was facing emotional boot camp! Probably served her right. What was the old saying – you can run but you can’t hide? She peered at her reflection in the dresser mirror. Her hair had grown, no longer neat, its natural wave softly curling her blonde locks. No hairdressers at Kirrkalan. She ran a brush through her hair until it gleamed, enjoying the feel of the bristles on her scalp. She slipped on a pair of jeans and a light cotton shirt which had belonged to Angela. Thelma had shown her the bags containing her sister’s clothes and she had retrieved one or two items. She took strength from wearing them in a strange sort of way.
Voices echoed down the corridor. One belonging to a little boy and one to a man. They were ready. Lizzie sighed and looked at her reflection one last time. “Wish me luck.”
An hour later they were well on their way, all three of them on horseback with one of Thelma’s famous picnics on board. Caden carried Angela’s ashes and Luke appeared completely unperturbed by what they intended to do with them. He chattered happily in the sunshine as they moved out of the home paddock and further into the Kirrkalan lands. Their first stop was the station’s graveyard, a small plot dating back to the nineteenth century.
Lizzie strolled around the headstones as Luke and Caden debated the best location. She noted the names and dates, some small children whose lives had been cut cruelly short. By what, she wondered? Some were women but most were men. Had they loved this land, this place? Or were they imprisoned here, trapped by fate? No one had been buried here in almost a hundred years. It should have been a lonely place yet a peaceful presence occupied the little graveyard. A broken down fence surrounded it, long retired from its duty of keeping trespassers out. She understood why this had been a favourite spot of her sister’s.
“We’re ready Aunty E!” Luke’s high voice called her from her reverie and she made her way over to where they stood. Caden held the jar of ashes in one hand, Luke by his side.
“Ready?” Caden asked and Lizzie noted he stood with his back to the slight breeze trickling over the landscape.
Luke nodded wrapping his small hands around Caden’s so he too held the jar. Lizzie stayed where she was, an onlooker to the process. The years of silence between the sisters as good as forfeiting any right she may have claimed.
“Here you go, Mummy. You can sit under the tree and read your book for as long as you like now,” said Luke in the matter-of-fact way of the very young. Tears blurred Lizzie’s vision. How grown up Luke appeared in this moment! Angela would have been proud of her boy.
Caden topped the jar and there was no sound bar the rustle of the tree as it acknowledged its legacy. “Would you like to say anything?” Caden asked her gently. She shook her head. There were no words. “Are you ready to go to the next place, Luke?”
“Sure am, Caden. I think we should go to the painting cave. Mum loved it there too.” Caden helped Luke up on to his horse. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s a very good idea.” Caden stood looking up at the little boy, his face in profile. Lizzie watched the exchange wishing she had a camera to capture the look the pair exchanged, so much love and trust tempered with shared grief.
“Well hurry up then!” Luke shattered the moment with childish impatience. There was no sadness here today. “I want to get to the last place and eat those cupcakes Thelma made us. I’m hungry already.”
“You’re always hungry,” laughed Caden as he mounted his horse. “Coming Lizzie?” He had taken to calling her Lizzie on the rare occasion. She was unsure what to make of it.
“Certainly.” She mounted her gentle old horse and fell in behind the boys. Despite Luke’s protestations of hunger, they rode travelled at a very sedate pace. Neither animal nor man inclined to move any quicker in the winter sunshine, a gentle breeze playing about the horse’s hooves.
Before long the familiar landscape of the outcrop came into view. She had been here only a matter of weeks ago yet so much had changed as if years had passed. Would the old her, the one who had been so out of place, recognise the new her? Increasingly she wondered how she was going to return to her old life as if nothing had happened. The things that mattered before held less sway for her with every passing day.
The three of them hiked up the rocky path to the cave which opened out on the desert vista. Here Caden and Luke carefully deposited some ashes over the edge to the long drop below.
“Now Mummy can enjoy the paintings all she likes,” said Luke clearly pleased with himself.
“Where to next buddy?” asked Caden.
“The old creek bed,” came the reply.
“There’s a creek around here?” Lizzie frowned unable to imagine running water in such a place.
“We get winter rains and the whole place lights up with wild flowers. You should see it. The old creek bed only fills with water very briefly taking the run off from the land. It’s not really a creek more of a catchment,” Caden explained. “Good place for a picnic too. You still hungry Luke?”
“I could eat my horse!” Both Caden and Lizzie laughed at his earnest tone.
The horses picked their way carefully across the uneven ground. Her horse, Bessie, lacked the ability to avoid the low scrub and Lizzie ended up with more than her fair share of scratches. Luke led the way on Killer busy pointing out things of interest to Lizzie or telling her stories about the landscape. All that was required of her was the occasional response which she was happy to give. The rest of the time she remained wrapped in her own thoughts. Weariness threatened to overtake her. The emotional strain of the day taking its toll although no one else seemed bothered. She took a water bottle from her bag and took a swig. The warmish water did little to quench her thirst and she hoped Thelma had supplied something cold and delicious in the picnic.
Before long they came upon a little copse of stunted trees, each struggling to stand upright as if carrying a heavy weight. In between them lay a collection of small rocks which had washed down into the catchment over the years. Again the place held a sense of peacefulness and watchfulness, the inhabitants waiting patiently for the next rains. Caden swung down from his horse, tethering it to a low branch before unloading the picnic basket he’d carried all this way. Luke slid off Killer and tied him loosely where he could reach clumps of tough grass to chew on. Lizzie did likewise with dear old Bessie, giving her a good pat on the neck as she left her to her grazing.
Caden set the picnic out under one of the trees which yielded the most dappled shade. Delicious cupcakes, little sandwiches and fruit were on offer. To Lizzie’s delight a thermos of ice cold cordial had also been included, a simple lunch yet perfect. Lizzie offered to stand guard against flies and ants while Caden and Luke performed the last scattering. The easy relaxed way in which Caden had directed the day took the sadness right out of it. He had managed to make it feel like a celebration rather than a mourning, as he’d promised.
She sat with her eyes closed and her face upturned to the breeze. Her floppy gardening hat had been discarded and little tendrils of hair stuck to her neck with sweat. The wind promise to dry them out for her. The only sounds came from the boys as they talked their way through the last ceremony. Their words came to her in snatches. She rested back against the tree trunk. Caden had said he’d make her last days magical. What did he have in mind? She couldn’t come up with a single idea. When would the magic start? Certainly not today, surely.
Startled from her day dream she sat bolt upright as the boys returned. Caden held Luke’s hand in his and Luke smiled up at him. The day had not been a burden to Luke and that was thanks to Caden. Lizzie drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them. She had done virtually nothing to help except be there. Could she deliver the kind of support Luke needed once they got to New York? The question gnawed at her.
A better question was could her parents provide emotional support to their grandson when they had failed so spectacularly with their own children? Could a couple of old dogs learn new tricks? The image of her parents as dogs made her smile. She imagined her father as some sort of respectable retriever, glasses perched on his nose. And her mother would be an Afghan hound, impossible elegant and vaguely alien, hard to imagine what she might be useful for. She was still smiling when Luke and Caden arrived back at the picnic blanket.
"How did you go?" she asked squinting up into the sunlight from where she sat.
"Good," said Luke reaching for another cupcake. "If we don’t eat all of these Thelma will think we don’t like them."
Caden ruffled his hair and laughed. "If we eat all of the cupcakes Thelma will think we won’t want dinner."
Luke frowned with concern but ate the cupcake anyway, no doubt confident of his persuasive abilities.
"So where to next?" Lizzie asked.
"Home," said Caden. "We've done what we came to do." He shrugged as if this was the kind of activity he engaged in everyday and it was no big deal. Lizzie knew otherwise and marvelled at the man's control. He had loved Angela too and he remained strong for her son. Her heart ruffled its wings with pleasure.
They made quick work of packing up the remains of the picnic, leaving crumbs for the voracious ants. Lizzie stretched her legs and her back. Horse riding was a slowly remembered sport, her body reserving the right to protest vigorously. They each mounted their horses as the sun began to tip towards the earth. Lizzie realised in that moment she had truly laid her sister to rest. The last thing she had to do for Angela was to make the fateful decision about who raised Luke. All evidence pointed to Caden yet the tug of bloodline, of family, caught her like a riptide pulling her towards an alternative decision.
The ride home was subtlety different from the journey out. Each of them content to remain wrapped in silence, even Luke's chatter had ceased. Lizzie watched him for signs of distress or sadness and couldn’t detect any. The little boy simply kept company with his own thoughts after a long and tiring day. Slowly the distance between the riders lengthen as if to make room for their personal daydreams. At some point Lizzie stopped thinking altogether as the swaying rhythm of Bessie’s gait lulled her into a dreamy state. The worries and anxieties which plagued her every waking moment disappeared, replaced by sweet nothing.
She kept her eyes on Caden's back as he rode before her, admiring the fine lines of his shoulders and the way muscles rippled as he moved. What would it feel like to run her hands across the wide expanse of his back, to feel the power coiled beneath his skin? Her imaginings warmed her from within as she let her fantasy take flight. Suddenly Bessie shied, snorting in alarm. Lizzie, unprepared for the sudden action, scrambled for the reins as they slipped from her hand. The saddle shifted beneath her as Bessie reared. Then Lizzie began to fall. Time suspended. She heard a shout but could not be sure if it were her own. The ground rushed up to meet her as she grappled with surprise.
"Oomph!" The air knocked out of her as she slammed shoulder first into the hard, uneven ground. Jagged rock bit into her flesh and her hip screamed with pain. Bessie side stepped, whinnying in distress. Lizzie lay still taking a quick inventory. Nothing seemed broken but as she was yet to sit up the possibility of cracked ribs loomed large.
"Don’t move!" Caden was beside her. "Are you hurt?"
She grunted by way of response. Of course she was hurt! Falling of a damn horse didn’t tickle.
His fingers explored her head tentatively. His lack of comment told her there was no blood. "Do you think you can sit up?"
She nodded as much to test the movement in her neck as to agree. Falling off a horse wasn’t a new experience for Lizzie. She had her system of gentle checks. Caden's hands supported her as she struggled to push herself up wincing at the sharp pain which shot through her shoulder. A broken collar bone would be a disaster!
"Aunty E! What happened? Are you okay?" Luke arrived at her side out of breath and panicked.
"I'm fine," she lied cradling her arm frightened if she let it go it might not work properly.
"No you're not." Caden's fingers probed her body looking for damage. Under different circumstances she would welcome the exploration but as he hit a soft spot she jumped and growled at the invasion. "Hurt?"
"Just a little," she ground out between her teeth.
"Can’t feel anything broken," he said with some satisfaction. "But you're sure as hell banged up." He stood up and moved away. Lizzie could hear him talking softly to Bessie who, while frightened, had only moved a short distance away too elderly for a proper bolt.
Luke put his hand on Lizzie's leg in a gesture of comfort. His blue eyes looked into hers with a worried expression. "You're not going to die are you?"
"Oh, darling! Of course not." The poor little mite! They'd just scattered the remains of his mother and now his aunt lay injured. She tentatively let go of her arm sucking in breath as fresh pain swept through her. Then she cautiously gathered Luke to her with her good arm. "I'm going to be okay. I've just hurt my shoulder." And my hip not to mention the cuts and bruises...
Caden returned leading Bessie.
"Bessie's not in trouble is she Caden?" Having established his aunty was alright he now moved on to the next most important issue — the horse. Lizzie smiled. She would have worried about things the other way around when she was his age. She was flattered he put her first.
"No, mate. She's not in trouble. Something frightened her, a snake I expect. You can’t blame her for getting scared, can you?"
"No way. Everyone gets scared," Luke said solemnly sure of this one universal fact.
"Do you think you can ride?" Caden addressed Lizzie.
She studied his face, grateful for the fact he couldn’t read her mind at that minute. What she wanted to say was not for children's ears. "I doubt it."
"Right. You can’t walk so you'll have to ride with me." He said it so matter-of-factly as if the prospect of being cradled in his arms, against his chest, held no alarm for her.
"I'm sure I'll be fine," she muttered as she tried to get to her feet. Her hip creaked in protest having taken a terrible jar. She gasped as all the little injuries she'd sustained along with the large made themselves known. Caden reached down and wrapped an arm around her bruised ribs to stop her from toppling over.
"Yeah, you'll be great."
She shot him a look of contempt. This was not time to make fun of her.
Luke grasped her good hand and tugged her up. "You could ride with me," he offered gallantly.
"I need you to lead Bessie back home. She's had a terrible fright and she needs some tender care."
"Okay," Luke agreed easily.
"Come on," Caden said to Lizzie encouraging her to put her weight on her aching leg. With his assistance she limped to the horse, unable to enjoy his arm about her for the pain.
Getting up on the horse was agony itself. All dignity lost in the process. She sat breathing heavily waiting for Caden to join her, braced for more jolts. She needn't have worried as he mounted with the fluid grace she had come to associate with him. He settled in behind her, picking up the reins, his arms either side hemming her in. His chest pressed against the length of her back and she held herself rigidly away not daring to allow contact.
"Relax," he said in her ear, his hot breath caressing her neck. "I've got you."
Yes, indeed you have, she thought.