Shooting Butterflies (35 page)

Josha looked at Wayne. ‘You really have your own helicopter?'

‘Sure, we use it for game capture, mostly,' Wayne said. ‘Do you like flying?'

‘I've never flown anywhere, so I don't know,' Josha said, ‘but I'd like to try it.'

‘Perhaps …' Wayne stopped himself from making the invitation.

He had no right to invite his son for a trip to his farm, to fly with him in his helicopter.

He still had no rights to Josha at all and until he had discussed that with Tara, he couldn't – wouldn't – make promises to his son that he couldn't keep. He wanted to be a better father than that.

Josha stood up to check on Tara. He tugged her blanket up a little, sat on the edge of the daybed and looked at Wayne again.

Wayne looked back at him. ‘I suspected you were tall, but seeing you in real life is different from how I imagined. You grow much more and you'll be as tall as me.'

Josha straightened out his shoulders and seemed to uncurl from his stooped teenage position, sitting up taller. ‘I never knew you were so tall,' he said at last.

Wayne smiled. ‘Well, I don't know what your mum has told you about me, but I would like to get to know you and at the very least be your friend.'

‘Mum always told me you'd died. When she found out that she had the tumour, and she was going to have her op, she told me that she lied to protect me … you were not really dead.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Why are you sorry? It wasn't you who lied to me.'

Wayne could hear the hurt in his son's voice, and the betrayal he had faced, having to deal with his mother's lie.

‘I'm sure she had her reasons,' Wayne volunteered.

‘Humph.' Josha made the universal non-committal teenage answer.

‘Guess we both have lots to adjust too. I assumed you would at least know who I was,' Wayne said, and he watched his son's body language closely. It said that he was angry, but it also said that he was agitated. ‘That's okay, we can work on details later. We have time. Lots of it.'

Gabe stood up from the chair he was sitting in. ‘You alright, Josha?'

Josha nodded, and he gave Gabe a thumbs up.

‘Good, then I think I'll go ask Lucretia to make us some refreshments and bring through lunch for when Tara wakes up. Jamison, you want to come see the rest of the house?' Gabe asked, providing Jamison an excuse to leave Josha and Wayne to become acquainted.

‘Do I have a half brother or sister?' Josha asked Wayne once the others had left the room.

‘No. You don't have any siblings. You are my only child.'

‘Are you married?'

‘No. Never married. I was always waiting to marry your mother.' He looked over at Tara, then back at Josha.

Josha walked back to his chair. He flopped backwards into it, the wicker groaning under the impact. ‘Adults, I don't understand them!'

‘You and me both,' Wayne said.

Josha pulled a face, and Wayne smiled at him. It was easier talking to his son than he had expected.

Almost natural.

Silently he wished the last years hadn't happened, that he could have been here earlier. For Josha, for Tara, for himself. Hindsight was a luxury he couldn't afford, but he knew he should have fought for her right from the beginning.

‘I wish things had been different,' Wayne said. ‘That I wasn't meeting you under such awful circumstances. But know that I'm so happy to meet you. To get a chance to know you.'

‘Um – okay,' Josha said.

Wayne moved into the other chair to face Josha. ‘I love your mother. She's always been the love of my life but I wasn't strong enough to walk away from my roots. To stand up to my mother. I guess in the end, I didn't fight enough for what your mum and I needed.'

‘So you abandoned her—' Josha said.

‘It was complicated. She moved away—' Wayne sat quietly watching his son.

‘Why are you staring at me?' Josha asked.

‘I don't mean to stare, but frankly I've thought of not much else since I found out that you had been born. I still find it hard to believe that my son is almost thirteen years old. Your mother was lucky having you near her all these years.'

Josha's eyebrows went upwards. ‘You didn't know about me?'

‘No. I knew your mum was pregnant, but once she went away, I didn't know if she had you.' He thought a moment if he should censor the rest, then threw caution away. His son needed the truth. ‘I was told that she had an abortion, but I hoped it wasn't true. Not until my own father, your grandfather Johnny, died, then I learned that you were alive and well, and that you have a birthday next month.'

Josha shook his head. ‘I'm not leaving her to live with you now that you know where we are—'

‘I don't expect you to. I'm not leaving her either.'

Wayne crossed over to the bed and looked at Tara sleeping. She was still as beautiful as ever. He took one of her hands in his and slowly he brought it up to his mouth, kissed it gently. ‘I'm here, Tara.'

Her eyes flickered open.

‘Hi, precious,' Wayne said, his voice coming out like a croak, his emotion raw and evident to anyone else.

‘Wayne. You came,' she said. ‘I didn't know if you would. I mean I wanted you to—, but I thought that you might not still be at the farm—' she managed.

‘Mum, you got some visitors,' Josha said, stating the obvious.

Wayne smiled, hearing his son. ‘I got your letter yesterday. And here I am.'

‘So Mum, this is Wayne. My dad who isn't dead.' Josha pointed out.

Wayne saw her tense.

‘You met already?'

Wayne nodded.

‘
Ja
, Mum. Don't worry about me. Wayne and I are doing okay,' Josha said from his chair.

Wayne bent over and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘I'm with you for as long as you want me here, Tara.'

She slipped both her hands up onto Wayne's cheeks. Wayne saw tears well in Tara's eyes as she held his face. She touched his face as if trying to see if he was real, as if trying to understand the difference from the image of the boy she had in her mind, to the man he had become. ‘My Wayne,' she whispered.

‘I promised, now and forever,' he said, and kissed her. Then taking her hand in his, he reached out his other one, palm upwards to Josha.

Josha rose from his chair. He walked slowly towards his parents, and then he reached out and tentatively touched his father's hand.

‘I love the both of you,' Wayne said. For a moment the family stood together for the first time, each touching the other, connected for a moment, then Josha pulled his hand from Wayne's.

Tara frowned. ‘So are you okay with Wayne being here, Josha?'

‘
Ja.
We're cool,' Josha said with a shrug of his shoulders.

‘I'm glad.' Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's so much for you, all on top of each other.'

Josha smiled. ‘You could have picked worse you know, he could have been a total loser …'

Wayne almost choked as he tried to swallow the laugh that wanted to burst from him.

Jamison, who had just come back into the room, wasn't so quick, and his laugh came out loud and clear.

‘Mum, that's Jamison, Wayne's friend. Not his bodyguard.' Josha filled his mum in.

‘Nice to meet you,' she said politely to Jamison, but her attention was on Josha, and she barely looked in his direction.

‘I'm glad you're alright with him, give each other time, sweetie. Time …' A single tear slipped down her cheek, and slid down under her chin.

Wayne looked at Tara, still in awe that she was so beautiful. Time had improved her, her hair was now more golden than white, her nose had a few more freckles sprinkled over it, and her lips were fuller. Those of a woman.

Her body was still petite, and even in her day bed she had an air of confidence about her.

Gabe came back into the room, bearing a tray laden with food.

Lucretia bustled in after him. ‘You forgot these, Gabe,' she said, holding out the condiments, the plates and the serviettes. She stopped when she saw Wayne.

Wayne looked at the old lady.

‘You,' she said in a frosty manner.

‘Hello, Lucretia,' he said politely.

‘You try not hurt my Tara this time,' she said as a warning, as if she had a say in their relationship.

‘Lucretia,
shoosh
!' Tara said.

‘I'll be watching you,' Lucretia said, and Wayne smiled, glad to know that she was still with Tara. That Tara had a friend who had stood by her all these years.

Lucretia bustled out the room after placing the forgotten items next to the tray laden with sandwiches, cut into dainty fingers with their crusts cut off, that Gabe had set on the coffee table.

‘So can I expect the same reaction from your mum and Dela?' Wayne asked.

‘I doubt it. They're kept too busy. My gran developed Alzheimer's disease. Mum and Dela both live with her now. Dela is a really good artist, and she tutors advanced art students. She has her studio set up at home so that between them, they watch over gran, look after her, and they have managed to keep her with them at home where she is comfortable and recognises things sometimes.'

‘Sorry to hear about your gran. That can't be easy, for any of them.'

‘It's life,' Tara said.

Wayne looked at the sandwiches. It looked like ham, cheese and salad stuff, and something that resembled tuna and mayo with lettuce or bully beef and cheese. He dithered with his selection, but Tara helped herself to some.

‘Bully beef, yum, I love this stuff. When I was pregnant I would eat it out of the tin, the whole tin … used to drive Lucretia mad,' she said. He stiffened. This was the first time she'd said anything to him about her pregnancy, and he wasn't sure just what to say.

‘Because you were eating disgusting bully beef?' Wayne finally asked.

‘No, because I wouldn't use a plate. She used to have this thing about leaving food in tins. She would go off about some sickness you could get from tins. So my solution was that if I ate the whole
thing she wouldn't get mad. But as my pregnancy progressed, my tastes changed, and soon eating a whole tin of caramelised condensed milk just wasn't an option, too much sweet. I would eat half, and then put it in the fridge. Lucretia would always scold me about it when she found it, without fail.'

Gabe said, ‘She still doesn't use a plate, and Lucretia still goes off at her.'

‘Gabe, I so do!' she said.

‘No you don't, Mum.' Josha backed up Gabe.

Wayne looked down to where she had a sandwich in her hand, without a plate, and battled to cover a smile.

‘Oh, you siding with Gabe is just not fair,' she said to Josha. She glanced briefly at their other guest, but it was more a passing glance as she focused back on Wayne even before she spoke. ‘Jamison. Do you have children?' Tara asked, in what was a blatant manipulation of the conversation away from her.

‘Yes, Joy was born just last month on the fifth of February, and her sister Blessing is five.'

‘What beautiful names,' Tara said and she frowned, turning her attention back to Wayne. ‘And your family, Wayne?'

‘You and Josha have always been the only family I wanted,' Wayne said.

Unshed tears shone in her eyes.

‘Come on, Tara, don't cry, it's a happy time. I have got to meet my beautiful son, and see his beautiful mother,' Wayne said.

‘I know, they are happy tears, but I was so sure you would have gotten married, had a family. Settled down.'

‘No family. I did buckle down, got to work and made as much money as I could, but it didn't help me find you,' he said.

Tara smiled.

‘So are you up to explaining more about your tumour?' Wayne asked. ‘I did ask Gabe but he said you needed to tell me what you wanted to tell.'

‘That's Gabe,' she said looking at her cousin with obvious affection. ‘Always looking out for me. I don't know what I would have
done without him all these years. He's my rock. I have just under three more weeks until I have the surgery.'

‘So how did you know you had a – you know.' He pointed to his own head.

‘A brain in my head? Or a tumour?' Tara smiled. ‘It started a few months back. I began getting these headaches, almost migraines, they were so bad, and I'd never had headaches before. So I went to the doctor, who referred me to the specialist. I had the first MRI done and blood tests galore, and that's when they saw it, and Mr Brits broke the news and said that he wanted to operate. The date is set for the twenty-third of March.'

‘So why a whole month from diagnosis to operation, why not right away?' Wayne asked.

‘So I could get my life sorted.'

Wayne frowned. ‘As in you could still die, even if he takes it out?'

‘Yes. There could be complications—'

‘Like having me come back into your life?' Wayne said.

‘Like having to admit to Josha that I lied,' she said and she looked over at Josha, who had just stuffed a whole strip of sandwich in his mouth.

Wayne dropped his voice, knowing that he was talking about Josha and yet he was in the room. ‘That must have been rough on him, he seems like a genuine kid, with a good moral compass.'

‘He is, and shattering his trust in me—' She sniffed. ‘I knew one day I was going to have to tell him, but the days just went so fast, and turned into years, and soon he was almost thirteen. He's a great kid,' she said. ‘Not that I'm biased or anything as his mother—' She looked at her son, and she smiled.

Wayne had missed that smile. Whenever she smiled at him when they were younger, he thought that the world was made just for the two of them. It had been many years, but he had never forgotten her smile, and the happiness that came with it.