Red Dust Dreaming (14 page)

“I'm nearly finished. Please can I keep painting, please?”

“Okay but just for five minutes okay?” She relented as he bobbed his head up and down. The sound of heavy boots on the veranda had both their heads swivelling. Caden! Her heart leaped at the sight of him. She could no more help her response than stop her heart from beating altogether. The very nature of the air changed when he was around, becoming electrified with his presence.

“Hello,” he said. “What have the artists painted today?” His question was aimed at Luke who happily answered, explaining his intricate composition full of trucks and the odd dinosaur. Caden listened attentively pretending the blobs of paint on the canvas really did resemble heavy machinery and extinct species. She smiled at their heads bent together, lost in the moment. She tried to imagine her father, Gerald, involving himself in the same way and failed. He had never been interested in art. Art was something to invest in, not to appreciate.

“Had a good day?” Caden looked up, his eyes going straight to her soul.

“Productive,” she said. “It's always fun to paint with Luke.”

“Good,” he said, standing up from where he crouched next to the boy. “Dinner won't be long. How about you go wash up, Luke?”

Luke took off leaving his painting gear scattered everywhere.

“Sorry, I just realised he needs to clean up after himself. Let me call him back.” Caden turned to holler for Luke and Lizzie touched his arm. He jumped at her touch as if startled.

“It's okay. I can have it cleaned up in minutes.” She could count how many times she'd spent alone with Caden on one hand since she'd returned from the Art Centre? Now she had him what was she going to do with him?

“Do you want a hand?”

“Sure.” She sounded like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. Now was her chance to speak with him and she had nothing to say. Couldn't think of a single rational thing. So they worked quietly side by side until the table was clear and the only the dirty brushes remained.

“Nice work,” he said nodding towards her canvas.

“Thank you. It's all coming back to me I guess.”

“So why did you stop?”

The question was so unexpected Lizzie literally rocked a little on her feet. “I never meant to. My parents disapproved of art school, thought it was a waste of time and money. So I funded it myself from money my grandfather had left me. I figured there wasn't much they could do about it. I ran out of tuition money, I couldn't pay the rent and I had no skills with which to support myself. I'd underestimated just how much college costs.”

“So you went home.”

“Sort of. I did ask for help first. They wouldn't give me money to continue in a field they didn't believe in so I had to switch to law or give up my education altogether.” She shrugged as if it had been the simplest thing in the world when really it had felt like dying.

“How's law working out for you?”

Another unexpected question! Maybe being left alone with Caden wasn't such a good idea. “It's alright. It pays the bills.” What else could she say? That she hated every wasted day she spent pouring over corporate cases with supercilious co-workers who were happy to dedicate their lives in the service of greed. He'd tell her to quit. Tell her to go find something else, something to make her happy. Shame things weren't as simple as that.

He grunted by way of reply, as if he knew of the unhappiness lurking underneath. “You should keep painting when you get back home.”

Home. The word resonated between them. Whatever happened she would leave this place. She didn't belong here. How she wanted to belong, to see Kirrkalan through all its seasons, to paint them all! “Yeah,” she said softly, “I should.”

“We have to talk about that.”

“My continuing to paint?” she asked, confused.

“No. You leaving Kirrkalan. The when and how.” He folded his arms across his chest, setting his weight evenly as if expecting a fight.

“Oh. How soon do you want me to go?” Her heart dropped like a lead weight.

“I'm not asking you to go,” he said.

And you're not asking me to stay either. She sighed. “I don't know. I am reluctant to tear Luke's life apart.”

“So don't.”

“What do you mean?” Her heart sprouted wings and fluttered with hope.

“Leave Luke here and let your parents fight for him. I'm prepared.” She had no doubt he meant it.

“A legal wrangle with my parents will be horribly expensive,” she cautioned not daring to tell him she held the right of placement. “Maybe we could work out a visitation arrangement?” If he agreed she could see him too in the guise of chaperoning Luke.

“Visitation? Come to New York you mean?” A shocked expression crossed his face as if she'd slapped him.

“Why not? Do you good to get to the Big Smoke once in a while,” she teased.

A flicker of a smile appeared at her use of the Australian colloquial expression for the city, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “I can't see me traveling all that way. Not fond of flying.”

“But you fly your own plane!” she cried, floored by his logic.

“Exactly. I can't fly all the way to New York myself and I'm not interested in being cooped up in cattle class for a day and a half.”

No arguments there. The flight was a killer. “Work with me here, Caden. I'm doing the best I can.” She spread her arms wide. “This is really hard for me. If I make the wrong decision I could ruin Luke's life.”

“What decision?” His eyes narrowed and she realised what she'd let slip.

“The decision when to go…you know…timing and stuff.” Her words tumbled inelegantly over each other in an effort to mask her mistake.

“Right. Timing… and stuff. Can't see how leaving this week versus next week is going to ruin anyone's life. It's the act not the timing that will damage the boy.” She could hear the restrained anger in his voice. She wished she could tell him the truth. But she'd run the risk of him putting pressure on her and she was afraid she'd crumble, give in.

“Can you blame me for not wanting to hurt him?” she asked.

He said nothing, simply studied her face, until she thought he wasn't going to answer at all. “No, I can't.” He took a step closer. “I can't help you with the decision when to go. Left up to me I'd keep Luke here for as long as he wanted.”

She closed her eyes and dropped her head. A decision was required and only she could make it. And she didn't want to. Left up to her they'd all go on like this forever and she'd be spared the wrenching pain of taking Luke away and leaving Caden. The scent of him, wild and male, filled her senses and she opened her eyes. He stood right in front of her, so close she could hear the beating of his heart. Warm fingers grasped her chin and raised her eyes to his. Her heart beat its wings with humming bird speed and her breath came shallow and fast. As his lips met hers something melted in the centre of her, the heat rushing through her limbs rendering her weak. She clutched at his arms, sculptured hard muscle, in an effort to remain standing. Flames of desire licked at her, tormenting and teasing.

He broke contact leaving her unmoored. “What I can do is make these last days here at Kirrkalan magical,” he said. He searched her face until he found what he was looking for. His smile only served to throw more fuel on her fire. “See you at dinner.”

“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.