Ask Me to Stay (3 page)

Yet here he was, the morning after. Had his car broken down? Did someone owe him money?

What a sight he made, standing there with his lookalike. Sam could remember running around town with him when Ethan was Ro’s age. She could remember doing a lot more with him when he was ten years Ro’s senior, too. She shelved the unwelcome memory and fixed a smile on her face.

He spotted her and, damn it all, his face lit up. Such genuine enthusiasm to see her made it difficult to harden her heart against him. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her cargo shorts and crossed to him.

‘Sammy-doll. How are you?’ He adjusted his knee as Nina’s wriggles intensified.

‘Hey, Ethan.’ She dodged the question about herself and asked one of her own. ‘Late lunch?’

‘Just coffee. That’s the dream, anyhow.’

‘The dream?’

‘Service is a little slow.’ He twisted his lips and shrugged, but she saw what lurked in his eyes and it stirred her.

Turning to the counter, she called to the woman whose back was to them. ‘Sal, one coffee, please.’ Remembering his lactose intolerance, she added, ‘Black. How’s your dad, doing? Any better since last week?’

Sally was clearly reluctant to turn, but she allowed herself to be drawn into conversation all the same. ‘He’s on a walker now. He likes it well enough. Says the wheelchair makes him feel old.’

‘He’s eighty-two.’

‘Eight-two years young, apparently.’

‘Your old man cracks me up.’

Sally pushed the ground coffee into the machine, hit a series of buttons and stepped back. Although she looked around the cafe, her eyes never found Ethan’s. Even when she waved to Nina and Rowan. Nina waved and Rowan stared.

Sam paid and they all left together. Ethan kept a tight grip on his niece’s hand. He tried to pay Sam for the coffee but she shrugged his money away and handed it to him.

‘Thanks.’

‘Your treat next time.’ She began to ease away, anxious to leave so that she could breathe again.

He arched a brow and his lips curved. ‘You’re confident you’ll see me again, then?’

She palmed her dusty shorts and pulled her cap free from her pocket. She tugged it over her eyes, angled her chin. ‘You always come back when it matters.’ She turned to leave.

He called her back. ‘I’m heading over to the yard.’

‘He’s got a list!’ Nina said helpfully. She swung Ethan’s arm back and forth, making a game of her restraint.

‘I’ve just gone on break. Dad’ll give you a hand. Maybe you’ll be there when I get back.’

He smiled faintly. ‘With any luck. See you round, Sammy-doll.’

Her heart kicked. There were so many bittersweet memories associated with that nickname. Memories she’d been trying to bury since she’d been seventeen, left behind without answers, without closure; and every time she thought she’d gotten a handle on how she felt about it all, Ethan only had to turn up for a day to turn everything on its head.

Ethan nudged Rowan and the boy nodded to indicate he was ready to leave. The kid looked tired, but also unusually dishevelled. His hair was greasy, his neck dirty. Sam frowned, and wondered if Dean needed more help with the kids than he was letting on. ‘See you,’ she said to Ethan, then to Nina and Rowan, ‘Bye, kids.’

Nina blew Sam a noisy kiss, checked her brother, then blew another on his behalf.

Sam made a show of catching them.

A dozen metres along the footpath Sam turned. They made a pretty picture, walking together down the main street of town. Neenz clung to Ethan, fiercely possessive of a man she had realised belonged to her in some way. Ro walked alongside, perpetually shy yet keeping close all the same. It would have been easy for them to adopt their father’s hostility towards their uncle, but somehow the bitterness hadn’t touched them. Perhaps they didn’t have the capacity to carry anything like that in their tiny bodies. Grief was heavy enough.

Sam watched as Ethan looked across the street, slowed and stopped.

The mechanics’ shop stood as it always had, crowding the intersection with cars and bikes. A sign shaped like a squashed diamond turned slowly clockwise, showcasing the Foster name. Sparks tumbled from one of the open garage doors, brilliant and mesmerising. The concrete driveways were stained with rubber and grease, the door handles with automobile grime. Dean had a monopoly on the market – there wasn’t a garage within one hundred kilometres, but he kept his prices reasonable and his staff were good with their hands and accountable for their work.

Sam looked back at Ethan, the absent co-owner of Foster’s Garage, and wondered what he saw.

Dean had got used to the seeking fronds of the willow tree a long time ago. The way they rode on the slightest of breezes and sought the lines of his neck. Bree used to feign jealousy as they’d sit there hand in hand, feet angled towards the creek, lounging in the high-backed chairs. Once she’d trailed a branch up the length of her thigh, over her stomach, between her breasts. Then she’d laughed and professed to be the tree’s favourite.

Dean fingered the stem of his wine glass, remembering the soft musical sound of her delicate rings against the glass when she’d done the same.

The creek bubbled and purred as always and the tall grasses beyond played percussion to the evening’s song. Her laughter had trumped them all. The light in her eyes had shamed the stars. Bree had been one of a kind. Striking in her beauty, irresistible in her soul. He’d burned for her from the beginning. In primary school, he’d wanted to sit with her during morning tea break and lunch. In high school he’d watched her from afar, shy despite the years because of his evolving feelings for her. When he’d eventually asked to walk her to school one day, she’d said yes and his mum had driven him to Bree’s house. On the walk to school, Bree had confessed to missing their morning tea breaks and lunches together. And that, as they say, was that. Dean and Bree had fallen in love.

It had been too short. An abridged fairytale.

She was gone and he was incomplete without her. He burned now as he’d burned then, but these were flames of despair and fear.

He thought of their children and closed his eyes. It was never supposed to be this way. Kids needed their mother. Ethan had been robbed of his, and looked how he’d turned out. No amount of trying on Dean’s part had kept his brother on the rails. And here he was today, irresponsible, full of contradictions and resentment. By all accounts a stranger to his family.

Dean had already raised a kid. And he’d be the first to say he’d failed. Now cruel, capricious fate had given him two more to twist and damage.

A car turned off the main road and slowly rolled up the driveway. Bree’s mum, Fiona, had taken the kids out for an early dinner following their first outing alone with their uncle. The gravel crunched beneath the tyres, then underfoot when tiny feet leapt from the back seat and ran to where he sat.

Nina clambered into his lap. He reached over her head to set his wine glass down on the small side table. With his other arm he held her tightly. Never tight enough, but as tight as he dared.

‘We had chicken nuggets!’ Nina trilled, her voice bell-like as her mother’s had been. She reached into the pocket of her dress and removed something covered in lint and grass. ‘I saved you one!’

‘Thanks, beautiful.’ He took it and kissed her soft cheek. She laughed and wriggled free. Dean had barely stood before small arms closed around his waist. He rubbed Rowan’s head, squeezed his shoulder. ‘Hi, champ.’

Not a word since he’d lost his mother.

Dean didn’t know whether to push or indulge. Everyone dealt with death in their own way. It didn’t feel right to decide for Ro. No one had decided for Dean when he’d lost his parents, just as no one was deciding for him now.

At his urging, the kids barrelled inside to get ready for bed. Dean crossed the driveway to stand with his mother-in-law. ‘Hi, Fiona,’ he murmured.

Bree’s mother nodded. The verandah lights highlighted the tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, over the neighbouring grazing fields, then up at the house where her daughter had died. She touched his forearm and turned back to the car. He watched her go before he walked into the house alone, his fingers hooked around two wine glasses.

When the lights were off and the doors locked he climbed the stairs. All was quiet. The master bedroom was across the hall from where Ethan slept. As he passed he heard the soft clink of ice in a glass. Despite the rumours amusing the town at present, Dean couldn’t judge Ethan for drinking. Moments ago he’d been doing the same.

He stepped into the master bedroom and was unsurprised to find his children in the bed on their mother’s side. He smiled at them, retreated to the walk-in robe to change, then climbed into bed beside them. They turned to him, eyes wide, needing soft words and sweet promises.

He touched their faces and squeezed their hands. ‘This is the last night, kids.’ He swallowed, struggling to keep his voice steady. ‘We wash the sheets tomorrow, okay?’

Nina turned her head to the pillow and breathed in the fading scent of her mother. Ro pulled the sheet up to his nose and closed his eyes.

It was another goodbye. Another loss. They came one after another, some expected, others not. Each as devastating as the last.

A motor turned over and the country serenity expired. Ethan squeezed his eyes tight and elbowed his pillow over an ear. His stomach rolled and pitched, full of booze, empty of food. He still wore his shorts. His shirt had been stripped off somewhere between the front door and the bed.

An exploratory foot told him he wore one shoe and two socks. Clearly his demons had prompted a late-night walk.

The motor growled then purred, growled again. Moving, he realised.

He pushed his aching body up, swung his feet to the floor. With effort, he opened the window. It seized then released, years since it had been shown any attention, and summer air rolled inside.

Ethan eased his forearms against the window ledge and closed his eyes against the glare.

When the purr became a roar, he opened his eyes and saw her.

Sitting astride a ride-on lawn mower, her liquorice hair flying behind her, Sammy leaned into the corners and never eased off the accelerator. She wore ear protection and sunglasses, a combination that made her lips seem pouty and her nose small on her oval-shaped face. She was, of course, not pouting. Samantha O’Hara never pouted. But it was an alluring look.

The hems of her cut-off denim shorts flirted high on her thighs. When she leaned forwards her spaghetti-strap singlet top rode up her back. An olive-green cotton shirt was unbuttoned but knotted above her navel, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. It hid what Ethan knew to be two handfuls of small, firm breasts.

She was a fascination to him. Always had been. Unflappable, strong, yet unexpectedly feminine beneath her almost masculine self-reliance.

Stepping away from her eleven years ago was still his greatest regret.

How he had managed to keep his secret from her he would never guess. She would have both understood and helped him endure, but he’d wanted to protect her – protect them all – from the ugliness of the truth. And for them to continue to believe a beautiful lie, he’d had to leave. It had been the only way. A decision he stood by even now, despite what it had cost him.

He’d never confess to it, but it pained him to see her coping so well. He’d hoped to be missed more. Each time he returned he searched for her, discontent until they spoke. But the reunions got a little worse each time. Two years ago, when Bree had opened her business, there had been little more than a polite exchange of words. Now Sammy clearly couldn’t see the value of investing any time in him.

If only the cost of confiding in her wasn’t so high.

Irritable and nauseated, Ethan straightened and stretched. When he looked again, Sammy was gazing up at the window. She gave a halting wave and rode on.

He washed up, downed three glasses of water and pulled on some old clothes. If there were jobs to be done he wanted to help. And thinking of his list, he knew many ways to contribute. Ben O’Hara had loaded up Ethan’s ute in silence yesterday, Catherine had wanted to talk until sundown, but between them they’d provided Ethan with everything he’d needed – tools and information.

Thinking of his ute, full to bursting with materials, tools, wood and paint, brought a smile to Ethan’s face. Were this not a place of mourning, he would have whistled and skipped downstairs.

He could hear the washing machine groaning and churning. Further down the hall someone was watching TV. Ethan took a bowl of fruit salad from the fridge, tore away the cling wrap and popped a grape into his mouth. Despite the abundance of food he could tell someone had bought groceries. The staples were all there now: milk, butter, apples. There was fresh bread on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, perhaps intended for lunch.

Fork and bowl in hand, Ethan shuffled down the hall to greet whoever was in the lounge room.

Rounding the corner, he paused. Standing amid half-a-dozen mountains of clothes, Cal was running an iron over one of Dean’s polo tops. A kid’s cartoon was playing on the TV. A metre in front of the screen, Nina lay in a pile of shirts, arms and legs like a starfish, mouth open, sleeping. She still wore her nightie.

Cal noticed Ethan and nodded. ‘Morning, buddy.’

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘I’m buying a Vespa. What’s it look like I’m doing?’

‘You look like you’re ironing all the clothes in the world.’

‘It feels like it. I’m not . . .’ He hesitated. Set down the iron. ‘I’m not doing Bree’s. I mean, should I?’

Ethan winced. He pressed a hand to his stomach and looked to his niece. ‘Why?’ he asked quietly. ‘I reckon pack it away. Box it up or something.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I figured Dean would tackle her wardrobe in his own time, but why add to it, you know?’

‘Yeah. Why add to it.’ He wasn’t thinking about clothes now, but truths. ‘You pick the short straw or something?’

‘Lost a coin toss.’

‘So Sammy’s out in the sunshine and you’re —’

‘Watching cartoons and pressing trousers. Yeah.’ He pulled a top free from a pile by the couch and shook it open. ‘Check out the size of this thing. She’s so small.’ The tag of the little blue top had a number six on it. Cal stared at it a moment, smiled and folded it into a square.

Ethan considered him. ‘You don’t have kids, do you Cal? You would have mentioned that, right?’

Cal grinned. He topped the iron up with water from a drinking bottle, tested the steam. ‘No kids yet. Anna and I are waiting till we’re married.’

‘When’s that?’

‘I’ll let you know when I ask her.’

‘You’re not engaged?’

‘We will be before the week’s out. I was going to ask her over dinner on our anniversary. But that was the day Bree . . . you know.’

‘Sure. Wow. Good luck, man.’

‘Thanks.’

‘One year anniversary?’

‘Six months.’

‘Wow again. I can’t wait to meet her.’

Cal pushed a hanger through Dean’s freshly ironed shirt and hung it on a nearby rack. ‘How long have I got to set that up?’ When Ethan didn’t answer, he looked over at him. ‘When are you leaving?’

Ethan shrugged, burying the irrational hurt. ‘Dunno.’

‘Give me notice if you can.’

‘Sure,’ Ethan said again.

He left Cal to his domestic duties and followed the light outside. It was mid-morning and shaping up to be a beautiful day. The sky was so big here. Expansive and blue, unrolling every which way. It was a sight he missed, living in the foothills of the Blue Mountains. The dramatic cliff faces and peaks obscured the horizon in places, unlike here, where there was little the sun could not touch. He’d tried living in the city but the chaos, the noise and the constant press of strangers upon his space had been tiresome. He’d settled in another country town some eight hours from here, and he liked it well enough. Hinterdown was in his blood in a way that Lithgow was not, but he got on fine. He had a good job there, a few friends, and Dave, who had taken him in and become a kind of father figure. There was enough about his new life to like, but Lithgow would never be home the way Hinterdown was.

Damn this house; Ethan had no affinity for it, nor for the old garage in town. But the people and that big, perfect sky kept pulling him back time and again.

He resolved to enjoy the country night when this gorgeous blue faded to black.

Sammy looked about half done when he stepped onto the freshly mown grass. He was moving towards her, hoping to intercept the mower and exchange a few words, when he saw two long legs swinging under one of the high-backed chairs he had been admiring yesterday. Young Rowan, lost in his thoughts or hiding from the world.

Ethan changed course.

Rowan looked up when Ethan neared, and Ethan appreciated that the kid seemed to have taken to him in some way. Rowan had been a pre-schooler when Ethan had been here last, and Ethan hadn’t really had to work at it. But everything was different nowadays. His mother dies and Ethan shows up . . . it would have been easy for the kid to distrust the association.

‘I remember the last thing you said to me,’ Ethan said, by way of a greeting. ‘You told me your mum was famous.’ He settled into the other chair and gazed out at the magnificent countryside. ‘She’d just opened her shop and everyone had come to see.’

He looked over at Rowan, who was nodding, remembering. The boy looked a sight. His hair was matted in places, greasy and lank. His skin was dirty and Ethan could smell him even from this distance. The kid was protesting against showers.

Or afraid of them.

Ethan sat back and considered this. He was quiet for such a long time that Rowan began to fidget.

Then Ethan got up, an idea giving him momentum. Without looking back at the boy, he strode towards the creek, talking as if Rowan walked alongside him. Rowan got the hint quick enough and scrambled to match his stride.

‘Your dad and I used to fish in this creek. Fish and fight. Wrestle,’ he clarified quickly, noting the boy’s alarm. ‘For fun.’

He reached the bank and pointed to the sandy riverbed. ‘The water runs clear. It’s not still, see. Still water gets stagnant. You can see right to the bottom. See how there’s nothing in there that can hurt you?’

Rowan nodded.

Ethan threw him in.

Rowan screamed then gurgled as water rushed over him. The water was waist high at most, but he thrashed all the same. Spitting and gasping, he stumbled to his feet. Water tumbled from his chin and elbows and ran down the length of his skinny body. His shirt clung to his skin like wet paper and curls fell over his wild, panicking eyes.

Ethan waited until Rowan looked up at him, mouth agape. He grinned. Then joined him. With an almighty whoop, Ethan hurtled himself – fully clothed – into the deepest section of the creek. The splash was an impressive one, and Ethan surfaced to the sound of laughter. Rowan clutched his sides, shrieking and rocking, and Ethan doubted he’d heard a more rewarding sound in his twenty-nine years.

Rowan opened his hands and pushed them over the surface. A small wave crashed into Ethan’s face.

‘Oi!’ Ethan cried.

Rowan gave as good as he got. They wrestled and splashed for about ten minutes before, breathless, chests heaving, they sat in the middle of the moving water and caught their breaths.

‘I reckon you won’t smell half bad now.’ Ethan pushed his spiralling hair back from his face as Rowan did the same. ‘Of course, the smell of defeat’s all over you. But some good soap and a rematch might fix that.’

‘You didn’t win. I won.’

Rowan was Ethan twenty-one years ago. He sounded just like Ethan had, the same voice, the same attitude.

‘How do you figure that?’

‘I just did. You’re tired.’

‘Ro, if you weren’t sitting you’d fall over. You’re wiped.’

‘I am not! I could go again.’

‘Hmm.’ Ethan eased back onto his elbows. His chin broke the surface and the cool water soothed him. ‘We’ll call it a draw then.’

‘Deal.’

The new friends fell into a companionable silence. They watched the birds diving and dancing in the big blue sky and the clouds rolling past. Ethan liked the sound of the trees and fields, shifting and sighing in the light breeze. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and cattle. Over a kilometre away their neighbour grazed six dozen cows and a dozen prized Angus. It was the scent of the country, unmistakable and to some, irresistible.

He couldn’t hear the lawn mower any more, and became mindful of the time. He’d had a purpose among all of this fooling around, and he wanted the chance to speak to Rowan before someone found them there.

‘You can’t hide from showers for the rest of your life, kid.’ Rowan’s blissful smile faded. A guarded expression replaced it. ‘I get it, I really do. But it’s not the way to go forward, you know?’

Rowan dipped his fingers into the water and built circles on its surface. He shrugged, mute again.

‘I want to get you something that I reckon will help. Two somethings.’

Rowan paused. He looked up. His grandfather’s eyes moved a chill through Ethan’s heart, but they were open and trusting. Ready for whatever change Ethan offered.

‘Okay,’ Ro said. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders. Every bit as resilient as his uncle.

Together they dragged their sodden bodies out of the creek. And laughing and shoving, they ran to the back door, stripped down to their underwear then charged upstairs to change.

Dean’s children had been returned to him alive and relatively happy yesterday following Ethan’s first stint of childminding, so Dean hadn’t put up so much of a fight the second time. He’d mumbled about business matters and paperwork, and Ethan thought he’d seen a little relief in his brother’s weary eyes.

Standing by the sink, Ethan watched Sam through the kitchen window. She’d turned up early again today, her sleeves rolled to the elbows and some old clothes on. At the moment she was kneeling on a foam mat, soiled gloves pulled over her wrists, weeding the garden beds flanking the back verandah steps. When she straightened her back and stretched, he swallowed. She wiped her face and left a line of dirt across her cheek. Back arched, hands high above her head, held that position a moment, then continued to wage war on the dandelions and grasses.

He drove into town thinking of her. Rowan and Nina bumped and talked beside him on the front seats of the ute. Nina was delighted her brother was speaking again and was determined to ask him any and all questions imaginable. Rowan did his best to answer them, although he occasionally looked to Ethan for help.

It felt good to matter to these children. He’d come to crave their acceptance. Neither looked at him like he was good for nothing. They made him feel funny and interesting, and most of all, needed.

Damn, it felt so good to be needed.

Back in the lone café in town, Ethan realised pretty quickly that Sal had no intention of serving him. As an experiment, he gave Nina the money and told her what to ask for.

Almost too small to be seen over the counter, she stretched her little arms up, holding the money aloft. Anxious to please, she gabbled excitedly, ‘one black coffee, please.’ She beamed at Sally, who was undeniably charmed. ‘Ethan’s gross torrent.’

‘Lactose —’ Ethan stopped. And began to laugh.