Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
A few days later, Beth met Hana at the Boomerang Cafe for lunch.
They’d already met twice since the first time they chatted, and each time, Hana had given Beth a drawing lesson.
The first time, Beth had been tasked with learning to sketch an apple, then she’d graduated to a whole bowl of fruit.
Impressed with her skills, Hana had asked her to bring along to today’s lesson an image of something meaningful to her.
Beth had chosen the photo of her parents that Celia had given her for Christmas.
It sat in its frame on the table before them, as did Hana’s notepad.
To deliver their lessons, Hana gave Beth instructions via the notepad, then demonstrated in their sketchpad how to execute those instructions.
Beth then tried to emulate what Hana had shown her in her own sketch pad.
Currently, she was working on the shape of her mother’s nose.
Pausing, she tilted her head, squinted slightly as she studied her handiwork, then sucked her teeth in frustration.
Taking up Hana’s notepad, she wrote, Something’s not working. Can you show me how to get the tip right?
You’re doing well, Hana responded. At this stage, all you need to do is get the overall shape right. You’ll add definition later with shading.
Beth nodded, accepting that Hana knew what they were talking about and carried on.
This had become their routine, communicating mostly via the written word, and not only during lessons, either.
Beth might use her voice to greet Hana when they first saw each other, but after that, the notepad came out and the two of them chatted as they ate lunch, taking time between mouthfuls to jot down a question or thought or comment.
It took more time communicating this way, definitely, but it was the norm for Hana, and Beth thought it only right to express herself in the same manner.
Her previous lesson had lasted for three hours and not a word had been spoken between them beyond Beth’s initial greeting.
She actually found it incredibly freeing, as it gave her the opportunity to process her thoughts carefully, to ‘speak’ without the potential of getting tongue-tied.
Besides, Hana seemed to appreciate the gesture.
Beth lifted her pencil from the page and studied her efforts. Not bad.
She looked to Hana for feedback and they nodded, their genuine smile of encouragement so much better than any compliment that might’ve otherwise been uttered.
Hana picked up the notepad and began listing the next lot of instructions.
They were an excellent teacher—calm, patient and encouraging—and Beth was grateful for the time they were investing in teaching her.
She’d always dreamed of being able to draw well.
The idea of sitting out in nature, sketching a landscape and capturing its beauty without another person in sight really appealed to her.
Now, thanks to Hana, she’d be able to make that dream a reality.
While Hana was occupied, Beth glanced between her drawing and her parents’ photograph.
Before today’s lesson had begun, Hana had asked about the photo and why it was important to her.
It had felt good to tell Hana about her parents, and writing it all down had meant she’d felt brave enough to be more vulnerable than she normally would.
In fact, she hadn’t really held back at all.
Hana had squeezed her hand in silent support after reading what she’d written.
It might be hard, she’d warned, to sketch them and not get it right.
But as an artist, you have to let go of perfectionism.
Creating art is a process; you’ll add layer after layer to a piece until you think it’s done, then you’ll come back to it a few days later and add yet more layers.
No piece will ever be perfect. Remember that.
Now, Hana handed over the notepad. Beth took it and prepared to read the next set of instructions but found a suggestion instead.
I think you should join Flo’s craft group. I know you’ve only just started drawing, but every artist should be in community with other artists. The next session isn’t until after New Year’s … what do you think?
Beth took in Hana’s hopeful expression and reluctantly accepted the pencil. Should she admit the truth? That she was terrified of Elsie and her loud and colourful personality? That she didn’t think she could handle being in a room with her for an extended period of time?
In the end, she decided Hana deserved the truth. Besides, if anyone understood, she was certain Hana would.
I’ve never really admitted this to anyone before, but I suffer from social anxiety. Even the simplest of interactions can be difficult for me but being in a group can be especially overwhelming.
I get that, Hana wrote. It took me a year after moving to Karlup to find the courage to ask Flo if I could join the craft group. But in the end, I did, and it was the best decision I ever made. I’d be lost without them.
That last line struck a chord with Beth; it was exactly how she felt about Ellie and Noah.
And wasn’t it the relationships she’d built with them that now had her questioning whether a life in Townsville was what she really wanted?
And hadn’t she been so overwhelmed by her first interactions with them that she’d spiralled into a meltdown?
Maybe she shouldn’t rule out making a connection with someone based solely on the fact that their personality differed from her own.
It was who they were at their core that truly mattered.
If she’d had her way, she never would’ve gotten to know Ellie and Noah nor discovered that they were incredibly kind and accepting of others.
So maybe she should give Elsie a chance?
Once she got to know her, perhaps Beth would come to understand that she wasn’t so scary after all.
Decision made, Beth scribbled down another response. Okay, I’m in. But I might need your help to feel comfortable.
Hana beamed. Anything for my favourite pupil. (Don’t tell the others.)
Beth laughed out loud. ‘What others?’
Hana winked, then put their head down and wrote Beth’s next set of instructions.
* * *
Beth woke up the next morning with one thought in mind—she needed to fix things with Flo.
In talking with Hana the day before about the craft group, Beth had realised that several weeks had passed since she’d fled Flo’s living room.
While she’d needed that time to recover from the shock of Flo’s revelations, she’d now come to terms with the news that her father had grown up in Karlup and that her parents had met here.
She could even understand why Pru had put conditions on her gifts, and with that understanding came a whole lot of gratitude.
If Pru hadn’t insisted that Beth spend time here, she never would’ve formed so many wonderful friendships or discovered that the roots she had in this town went deeper than she ever could’ve imagined.
And now that she’d made the decision to stay in Karlup for the foreseeable future, Beth desperately wanted to re-establish her connection to Flo, to learn more about her aunt, just as she’d continued learning about her father from Mick and Celia.
Perhaps that’s what Pru had wanted for her all along, to gather stories of her family, to understand who she was and where she came from—that, more than anything Pru had left her, was the most precious gift.
But regardless of how eager she was to make amends, she didn’t want to impose too early, so she waited until mid-morning to drive out to Blackwood River Road.
As she passed by the window on her way to the front door, she half-expected Flo to call out her usual greeting—Beth knew from all her previous visits that Flo was always in her chair at this time of the morning, enjoying a cup of tea as she knitted or crocheted—except not a peep came from inside.
Beth knocked on the door and waited.
Perhaps Flo didn’t want to speak with her.
Beth wouldn’t blame her if that were the case. Especially after the way she’d snapped and stormed out. But then, perhaps Flo had simply dozed off in her chair. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Beth knocked again, this time a little louder. ‘Flo? Can we talk?’
Silence.
She lay her head on the door, losing hope. But just as she was about to give up and drag herself back to the car, she heard Flo call out, her voice muffled, and a moment later, the door opened.
Flo, still dressed in a nightie, peeked out from behind it.
‘Beth!’ She pulled the door wider and flattened a hand over her chest. ‘Oh, how lovely to see you! I was starting to think you’d left town.’
If Beth wasn’t so worried, she’d feel ashamed for not having reached out sooner. But she was worried. It wasn’t like Flo to answer the door in her pyjamas.
‘Is everything okay?’ She followed Flo into the lounge room. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘No, no,’ Flo assured her as she lowered herself into her recliner and raised the leg rest. ‘I’m just not feeling the best and decided to have a lazy morning.’
Beth studied her closely, noticing her pale complexion. ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’
‘Only some aches and pains, dear. It’s what happens when you’re as ancient as me.’
‘You’re hardly ancient.’
‘I beg to differ.’ With a sigh, Flo rested her head against the chair and closed her eyes, which did nothing to dispel Beth’s worry.
‘Why did you get out of bed to answer the door? You’re clearly not well.’
‘Pish posh. It’s just old age. Now, do something useful and put the kettle on.’
Beth fought a grin. Apparently, a few aches and pains made Flo rather crabby. ‘Can I get you something to eat as well?’
‘No, thank you, I’m not hungry. But I wouldn’t say no to a glass of water and some Panadol.’
Beth fetched the meds and flicked the kettle on. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’
‘Many times. These bones are old, that’s all. Hopefully, the pain will pass. If not, I’ll make an appointment.’