Flowers in July

Chapter Twenty-two

Somehow, I decided to stay. Despite all the reasons why it was a terrible idea, some combination of the gorgeous cottage, my lack of alternative options and Abel’s magnetism made me accept his offer.

And ultimately, I had come to trust him in a way I hadn’t trusted anyone before, and when he said it would be good for me, I found myself believing it.

I promised that I would move somewhere more permanent as soon as possible. And I’d keep hold of the tenancy with Vivian – just in case it didn’t work out and he wanted his space back at short notice.

In that first week he was back, we hardly crossed paths.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the house was empty a lot.

Even when he was technically home, he was always out and I found myself repeatedly disappointed to come back to find he wasn’t there.

I’d work an evening shift when he was on a day.

Then I’d be on a day shift and he was off somewhere – presumably climbing a mountain or abseiling down a crevasse.

But I felt his presence in the smell of coffee when I woke up, and the warmth of the house when I got home in the evenings.

After the fifth day of not seeing him, I started to wonder if maybe he was deliberately avoiding me.

Maybe I was making him uncomfortable by being in his space.

Maybe he was realising this was all a gigantic mistake.

I’d lost track of where he was and when I came home at the end of my evening shift, I presumed I would once again find the house to myself.

I was almost shocked to see him sitting in the living room, reading a book. I’d begun to forget that I was sharing a house with an actual person rather than a scent, an enigma, an idea of a person.

‘Whoa.’ I stood there just staring at him. ‘Who let you in?’

He cocked his head, the hint of a smile. ‘Hello.’

I sat on the couch beside him. ‘You’re a really busy man, aren’t you?’

He shrugged, not giving anything away.

I scrutinised him for a moment. He was very different since he’d come back from the Grampians.

Admittedly, I’d hardly seen him, but the two times I had, he’d seemed so very contained.

Back to the unreadable man I’d first met in the emergency department, and the intimacy we’d shared over the days on the course had disappeared.

It made something in my heart ache, but I recognised it was probably a good thing.

‘How was your week?’ he asked.

‘Fine. But honestly, you’re literally never here.’

‘I’m here now.’

‘For the first time all week. If you want me to leave so you can actually live in your house, I won’t be offended. I mean, I’d be a bit offended, but I’d rather know.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’

I frowned at him and he let me meet his eye.

‘How is your study going?’ he asked.

‘Good. How is your – whatever-you-do-with-your-time going?’

‘Good.’

In most respects, the conversation was very awkward. But it seemed even awkward interactions with Abel made my heart feel warm.

‘Do you want some dinner? There’s leftovers in the fridge.’

‘I’m fine. But thanks.’

‘How was work?’ he asked after a moment.

‘It was good. Felix wasn’t there. At this point any shift that doesn’t involve Felix is a good shift.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

It suddenly occurred to me I hadn’t been on shift with Felix all week and for some reason that had me looking at Abel suspiciously.

Could he be responsible for this highly appreciated change in circumstances?

I also realised with a jolt of satisfaction how I’d not needed to deal with Felix’s belittling of me and how good that felt.

I felt stronger than I remembered feeling in a long time, and while there were numerous other things that could be attributed to – quiet house, rested brain, friendly ginger feline as my companion – I suspected the absence of Felix in my world was part of it.

My gaze landed on the brown journal that sat on the bookshelf. I hadn’t noticed it since I’d been here and I couldn’t resist any longer.

‘What’s in the journal?’

‘Hmm?’

‘The journal.’ I pointed to the bookshelf. ‘You brought it on the trip. What is it?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Just some drawings.’

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. ‘Drawings. Please don’t tell me you are some kind of artistic master? On top of everything else? I don’t think I can take any more Abel domination.’

He scoffed. ‘Says she.’

‘Can I see?’

‘Sure. They’re nothing special. Just sketches.’

I didn’t believe him. I stood to pick the notebook up and when I sat back down, I landed closer to him than I’d intended.

Now my crossed legs overlapped his thigh, our hips snug beside one another.

I held the notebook closed in my lap and looked at him for permission.

It felt very private all of a sudden and there was something fragile in his expression – something vulnerable.

Like to open this book would be revealing something of him.

‘You can look,’ he said.

‘You sure? It’s okay if you’d rather I didn’t. I’m basically an intruder in your space at the moment. You’re allowed to have boundaries.’

‘It’s fine. They’re nothing amazing. Just images of things that are special to me.’

God, he was gorgeous.

I opened the book, gently, like my very fingers could damage the work.

The drawings were done with black pencil on white paper.

Portraits, mostly. Some wilderness scenes.

Skylines. Rock faces. A bird. But the portraits were clearly what he put the most work into. Unsurprisingly, they were spectacular.

An older man with lines of time around his eyes and mouth. Something steely and hard in his expression.

‘My dad,’ Abel explained with a huff of a laugh. ‘Always frowning at me. Like he’s ready to be disappointed by me.’

I looked at Abel. He was trying to be light, to shake it off. But I could see something complicated in his eyes, something that felt suffocated.

‘Maybe he just wants to see you succeed.’

He shrugged. I watched him for a moment longer, but he didn’t give anything else away.

I turned the page. It was a young man laughing, so well captured it made my heart feel a jolt of happiness.

Abel smiled at the drawing. ‘Louis. He used to house-sit for me sometimes. Crazy guy. Hilarious. Lives on a yacht. Extremely unreliable.’

‘God. They’re beautiful, Abel.’ I meant it. The expressions – the people were so alive.

The next page was the girl. I was sure of it. Stunning. Strands of hair blowing across her face. Her eyes shining. Her smile bright. There was something so wonderful in the image it tugged at my heart. I could feel a quickening in my chest.

‘Who is this?’

‘Tessie.’ His voice was soft and sad.

‘Who is Tessie?’ I watched his face and tried to read what his eyes gave away.

‘She’s my sister,’ he said. ‘She died.’

‘Abel.’ The air seemed to leave me. I’d wanted anything but Tessie to be Abel’s girlfriend and now this was so much worse. It was like being winded.

He looked at the drawing, seeing her, remembering her. ‘She died in a climbing accident about four years ago.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ I didn’t know what more to say. There was nothing that felt remotely big enough. ‘Tell me about her.’

I watched a flicker of a smile reach his eyes and my heart seemed to ache in response, seeing a window into his vulnerability, the memory of his sister.

‘There was never enough time for Tessie. There were too many mountains to climb for normal life. She was in a rush to see as much as she could. Always one adventure after another. Unstoppable in her enthusiasm and energy.’

I could see it in her eyes. A desperate love for life. ‘You’ve captured that. She looks … vivacious.’

He nodded.

‘Were you close?’

He gave a sort of exasperated murmur. ‘We were, but she was hard to keep up with. And at times insufferable. She wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of doing what she wanted to do.

I remember, in my last few years of training and the beginning of my career in retrieval, how much she resented the fact that I wasn’t able to go away with her as much as she would have liked because I was working full time.

And we’d always done things together, so if there was a climb or a goal that was particularly challenging, she’d insist that I do it with her. ’ His face darkened.

I reached for his hand instinctively. ‘Where you with her when …?’

He shook his head, something broken and bitter in his eyes. ‘I was at work.’

I waited, allowing him to continue.

‘It was a difficult-access location. A lead climb. Extremely technical. Not beyond her, but … unnecessarily dangerous. I tried to convince her not to do it. Even if I had been available, I would have done everything to talk her out of it. But the fact that I was working angered her and – typical Tessie.’ He gave a pained moan, almost a laugh.

‘She was so fiery when she didn’t get her way. ’

‘You don’t blame yourself, do you?’

He didn’t answer immediately. ‘I feel guilty that I wasn’t there.

And that my being at work led her to act in an impulsive way.

I think I could have swayed her to do something else if I’d been with her.

And I guess, ultimately, I also wish I had been there to ensure her safety.

I feel that I could have kept her safe if I’d been there. ’

This was so huge, so heavy. I didn’t bother with placating comments. I doubted anything I could say would be enough. I just squeezed his hand tighter.

‘Did you always go away so much? Before …?’

‘I did. But … I think a part of me now feels like I need to make it up to her. Do the things she wanted to do. Live life fully. When I’m not doing something adventurous, I can hear her teasing me, challenging me.’

‘Are you reckless?’

‘No. I was always a lot more cautious than she was. Now even more so.’

We were silent and I returned my hand to my lap.

‘Tell me about Ebony. Are you two close?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I smiled and then groaned at the thought of her trip that I’d completely forgotten was coming.

‘What?’

‘Oh. It’s this trip she planned to Hobart ages ago. I haven’t had the head space to explain to her or Mum what happened with Felix, so she’s still expecting to come and stay with us, with all her kids, in about six weeks. I need to cancel her flights. Reimburse her. It’s a mess.’

‘Why haven’t you told them about Felix?’ He seemed genuinely mystified. ‘Seems like something you would tell your sister?’

‘Ugh … Ebony has a lot to deal with. I like being there to help her rather than giving her more to worry about.’

‘I don’t know about that, Mary.’ He was frowning at me. ‘I’m pretty sure that is exactly the kind of thing that a sister would want to know. Are you talking to anyone about what you’re going through at the moment?’

‘I— Yes. Um …’ I scrambled. Did Cleo count? Lilly? ‘I’ve told a few girls. And … well, you obviously.’

‘You should tell her.’ His voice was firm.

‘I don’t know,’ I sighed. ‘I’m also not ready to break the news about the trip yet. She was so excited. They were all excited.’

‘Why do you need to cancel the trip?’

I laughed. ‘Well, I clearly don’t have anywhere for them to stay. I’m not going to put them up in Vivian’s. Ebony would probably use the bong and the children would have their first drug-induced psychosis aged four, six and eight.’

‘Give me the dates.’

I stared at him.

‘Give me the dates,’ he repeated, pulling out his phone.

I had no clue what he was getting at. ‘August fifth to the eleventh.’

He scanned his calendar a moment and then clicked it to black. ‘Let them stay here. I won’t even be around. I’m helping with an expedition course in New South Wales.’

I snorted before I could stop myself. ‘Oh my God, no way. They’d ruin this place.’

‘They wouldn’t. Anyway, I don’t care if they break something. Let your sister come and stay with you, Mary. And tell her about Felix. Soon. Do something good for yourself.’

I didn’t even know where to start with explaining all the things wrong with that plan. And obviously, I’d have found somewhere else to live by then.

I must have looked utterly shocked because he started laughing. ‘You’re impossible! It’s not a trick. I genuinely, truly would love your sister and her family to stay here. And Kate Winslet would lose her shit over so much attention from a family of Roberts.’

I scrutinised him, searching for sarcasm, but I found none. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I conceded, because the way he was looking at me left me no room to refuse.

‘Great.’

As if her ears had been burning, the ginger beauty leapt onto my lap and curled herself between my crossed legs, soft as butter under my fingers.

‘Why is she called Kate Winslet?’

‘Ah …’ He was smiling, slightly bashful. ‘Have you seen Titanic?’

‘Of course. I don’t actually live under a rock.’

‘You remember the bit where Kate Winslet lies on the couch?’

‘And Leonardo DiCaprio draws her naked?’ I laughed.

‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘Right before they have sex in the carriage and her sweaty hand smacks the glass?’

‘Best moment in Hollywood history.’ His tone was wistful.

‘So, you fancy yourself as Leonardo, hey?’ I gave the brown journal beside me a little tap. ‘And Kate Winslet is your muse?’

‘What can I say. It was an inspiring moment.’

‘Not many naked ladies in your collection, I note.’

He shifted to look at me. ‘Are you offering?’

‘No.’ I turned to look at him. ‘Are you asking?’

‘No.’

My belly warmed. He was back. It felt as though we’d recovered the closeness that I thought maybe we’d lost. And I was almost allowing my brain to indulge in the thought of Abel Sutherland drawing me naked …

He held my eye for a moment longer, a heady, swirling moment in which I wondered if he might be imagining the same scene.

Then, abruptly, he stood.

‘I’m going to bed.’