Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Sitting on the deck in one of Noah’s camping chairs, Beth cradled her coffee mug and stared at the document she’d opened on her new laptop.
She squinted at the tiny writing, trying to make sense of the legal jargon, but was overcome by a profound sense of sadness—something she’d never expected to feel when finally reading through a contract to purchase her own home.
The place she’d found in Townsville, a fully renovated old Queenslander, was truly lovely—much lovelier than the cottage she’d rented before coming west. There were stained glass windows in the living area, an enclosed verandah with plantation shutters and a room with a bay window that she planned to turn into a library.
It was so lovely, in fact, that she’d made an informal offer based only on the advertisement and the agent’s virtual tour—she hadn’t wanted to risk missing out on it—but as lovely and as perfect as it seemed, she didn’t have a connection to it like she did with this place.
With Noah’s guidance, she’d played a part in breathing new life back into Pru’s house, and witnessing the transformation had been incredibly rewarding.
For months, she’d been imagining how she’d style each room, but now, someone else would end up with that honour.
Sighing, she closed her computer. The real estate agent had sent through the official paperwork this morning, but she was in no rush to sign it. She’d do it later. All she wanted to do right now was breathe in the crisp country air while she still could.
Grateful for the warmth that seeped through her ceramic mug, she blew on her coffee and burrowed into the neck of her woolly jumper.
Summer had made an abrupt exit, and now a significant chill hung in the air each morning until the sun peeked over the tops of the trees.
She had only two days left to enjoy this view, so she was going to make the most of it.
Tomorrow, the removalists would show up and load her belongings into their truck, and early the following morning, as the rest of the town slept, she’d embark on the three-hour drive north to the airport and leave Karlup for good.
Pushing away her sorrow, she looked to the east, where the sun was finally high enough to pierce through the trees.
Its light reflected off countless dew-covered leaves, for all the world making each branch appear as if it was decorated with a thousand tiny crystals.
The sight fed her soul and soothed her aching heart.
Made her wonder whether she would, in fact, be okay once she left.
Because she might not possess everything she’d ever wanted, but pleasure and happiness could always be found in the small things.
A knock on the front door echoed through the empty house, making her jump.
She got up to answer it, but knew better than to assume who the caller might be.
Still, she couldn’t help but hope it was Noah, come to tell her he’d changed his mind and wanted to accept her offer to invest in his business.
She truly did yearn to help him bring his vision to life.
He could make his clients profoundly happy by turning their old houses into their forever homes, and nothing would make her happier than to be part of that, even if she were only a silent partner.
When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Hana standing on the other side. Wearing a red beret that matched their glasses, Hana smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. The other hung by their side, a large gift bag dangling from their fingers.
‘Hana, hi. It’s good to see you.’ Beth gestured over her shoulder. ‘Would you like to come in?’
Hana was about the only visitor Beth could receive right now who wouldn’t cause her anxiety to spike.
Hana nodded and followed Beth inside.
Grabbing the second camping chair on her way through the living area, Beth set it up on the deck next to hers.
‘I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said to Hana once they were both settled.
An unexpected rush of emotion hit her. She hadn’t realised how good it would feel to see a friendly face, one that held no judgement and conveyed no expectations.
When Hana took Beth’s hand and gave it a squeeze, mutual understanding passed between them. They hadn’t seen each other since before they’d lost Flo. The tilt of Hana’s head, their furrowed brow, told Beth she wasn’t alone in her grief.
‘I know,’ Beth murmured, blinking rapidly. ‘I miss her, too.’
Releasing Beth’s hand, Hana scooted their chair closer and pulled Beth into a hug.
Beth closed her eyes and focused on absorbing as much of Hana’s quiet peacefulness as possible.
She was going to miss this. The ease of being in the company of someone who did not fill the world with unnecessary noise.
Hana offered an apologetic smile, then pulled their notepad from the depths of the gift bag. They handed it straight to Beth. Don’t freak out, okay?
‘What does this mean?’ Beth looked up from the page. ‘Why would I freak out?’
Somewhat nervously, Hana rubbed their lips together and cleared their throat. ‘Because I’d like for us to communicate differently today.’
Beth’s jaw dropped. Hana could talk?
Hana smiled softly. ‘I can speak on occasion. With people I trust, but generally only when it’s one on one.’
Beth’s hand flew to her mouth. Hana trusted her? ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She’d always felt the two of them had a connection, but this moment solidified it in a completely unexpected and unmitigated way. ‘What made you decide to tell me this now?’
Hana shrugged. ‘It’s not often someone takes the time to understand me or my selective mutism.
’ They squinted off into the distance, the ghost of past traumas surfacing in the downturned corners of their mouth, then they blinked and carried on.
‘You chose to learn my language, Beth, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful. ’
Taking her turn to offer comfort, Beth rested a hand briefly on Hana’s knee. ‘Honestly, Hana, I love your language. I wish I could communicate with everyone the way you do.’ Realising how that might sound, she added, ‘I hope it’s not insensitive to say that.’
‘No, not insensitive.’ Hana gave her a quizzical look. ‘It is interesting, though. A lot of people wouldn’t have the patience. What do you love about it?’
Beth shrugged. ‘I like that I can be more intentional about what I say. I’ve always expressed myself better in writing than when I speak aloud.’
Hana nodded slowly, appearing to ponder Beth’s answer for a moment, then reached for the gift bag at their feet. ‘For you,’ they said, handing it to Beth.
Giving Hana a curious look, Beth peeked inside and—
She glanced quickly at Hana to check that she wasn’t imagining things. Hana, clearly pleased with her reaction, grinned back at her.
‘I don’t understand,’ Beth said, her eyes filling with tears as she pulled out the crocheted sunflower blanket. It was folded and tied with a yellow ribbon, but it was clearly the project Flo had been working on. ‘I thought she didn’t get to finish it.’
‘She didn’t. Olive brought it to me. Said Flo had left her instructions to ask me to finish it, then once I was done, I should give it to you as a gift from Flo.’ Hana’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought that was odd. Didn’t she mention she was making it for her niece?’
Beth laughed through her tears. ‘She did. Flo and I kind of adopted each other.’
‘Ah, that makes sense, actually,’ Hana said with a smile. ‘She definitely had a soft spot for you.’
Beth unravelled the ribbon, shook out the blanket and draped it over both their laps. ‘Thank you for finishing it, Hana,’ she said, studying each square. ‘You did a great job. I didn’t even know you could crochet.’
‘Oh, I enjoy all forms of artistic expression and pick up most quite easily. Being creative is my happy place, my special interest. I’m autistic, you see, so—’
Beth’s head shot up. ‘W-what did you just say?’
Hana traced the outline of a sunflower. ‘My brain works differently to most people’s. I think in colour and find patterns soothing, so the arts have always come naturally to me. The process of creation calms me. Helps me regulate my emotions.’
‘You … you’re autistic?’
Hana nodded calmly, not fazed in the least to admit their disability.
Beth’s mind whirled. She’d been bottling up her emotions and letting her fear consume her since the moment she first suspected she might be autistic, yet here was Hana, celebrating their differences with … pride.
Hana’s quiet confidence gave Beth courage.
‘I-I’ve been doing some reading, and … I think I might be autistic, too.’
Hana’s face lit up, their pleasure genuine. ‘You don’t say. Well, that explains why we understand each other so intuitively. Neurodivergent people do tend to gravitate towards one another.’
Something about Hana’s response made Beth think they weren’t surprised.
That made sense, she guessed. If Hana was autistic, they must recognise autistic traits in others occasionally.
Still, it was nice to know that Hana also felt their connection, and now that Beth had uttered her suspicions out loud, the burden she’d been carrying for weeks suddenly felt ten times lighter.
Hana was someone who understood, who wouldn’t judge, and because of that, Beth felt safe.
So instead of keeping everything bottled up, she tipped the container holding her emotions upside-down, whacked the base and let the words pour out of her.
She told Hana about Rosie and about Pru’s suspicions.
She explained what she’d learned in her father’s letters and the TV program Celia had recommended, and how, when Beth had watched it, her curiosity had been sparked and prompted her to start researching.
She admitted how her countless hours of research had culminated in a self-diagnosis.