Chapter Thirty
It’s a pleasant surprise that, after two large events, the last stop on the tour is the smallest. Still, Bri tells me that the eighty tickets sold out in two minutes.
All four of us are carrying books and equipment in, though Jed has offered to make a quick trip back for anything we can’t manage. When Bri tries to explain that it will mean double trips on the way back out as well, Jed cheerfully starts listing all the birds that have been sighted in this forest.
And honestly, if I was a bird, this is probably where I’d choose to be too. The trees are tall and green, and they stand like they know what they’re doing. There’s a stream nearby that runs close to the path, and our walk is accompanied by the steady trickling of water.
In what has become typical over the past two weeks, there’s also no phone reception – at least, not with my provider. Two days ago, I had a conversation with Yumi that almost entirely consisted of me just saying, ‘Can you hear me?’ and, ‘What about now?’
Declan leads us down the path, his back straight like he barely even notices the box of books he’s carrying. We’re all walking single file, because the trail isn’t wide enough to walk side by side – at least, not without someone falling in the bushes. Luckily, the path is flat and straight.
‘You know,’ calls Declan conversationally, ‘we’re just going to have to carry these back out again.’
‘But we’ll have fifty helpers,’ calls Bri from the back of the line. ‘And they’ll each be hugging their copy to their chests! We’re giving them the experience of buying the book in a place no one else has.’
It’s the third time they’ve had the same discussion, and it was obvious from the first that Bri was going to win. She never seems to descend into arguing, but she is unbelievably convincing.
We traipse quietly down the path, listening to the water and the birds. Then we turn and the route opens up into a clearing that the path winds alongside.
‘It’s just through there,’ says Declan, pointing to a gap in the trees.
Jed marches ahead, and Bri skips to catch up with him, tucking Declan’s computer under one arm. Declan waits to fall into step beside me.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask. He’s quiet, but he doesn’t seem as stressed as he has the past few events, or even as he was in the bookshop earlier. I wonder, not for the first time, what it must be like – to steel yourself to talk in front of people when you hate doing it as much as he does.
‘I’m fine,’ he says. ‘Glad this is the last one.’
There’s a beat and, for a second, I think he’s going to say something else, but then Bri and Jed make it through the bushes up ahead, and I hear Bri squeal .
She drops her books on the ground and then runs back to us.
‘Declan Archer, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ she yells. ‘People are going to lose their minds when they realise that this is the spot with the silver tree. You know they’re going to lose their minds, right?’
Declan just smiles. ‘I thought it might be a nice surprise,’ he says. He turns to me.
‘The silver tree? From book club?’
‘It’s the location of a scene at the end about love and hope,’ he says.
‘The best scene from the book!’ says Bri. ‘Apart from the scene at the Christmas market in April,’ she says. ‘Maybe you can recreate that one on the next tour.’
Declan doesn’t look at me, but I can feel his attention shift to where I’m standing. ‘Maybe,’ he says, and I’m left feeling both warm and a little empty as we follow Bri through the trees at the edge of the clearing.
Not far into the forest is a smaller, more intimate collection of trees that stand in an almost perfect circle.
There’s a massive rock at one edge of the space, and just beside it is a two-metre tree with bare branches.
There are no leaves on it – it doesn’t look like it’s had leaves on it in a long time – but the entire thing is painted silver, and wrapped round the trunk is a neat green vine covered in vibrant flowers.
‘It’s a nice tree,’ I say, while Bri moves closer and totally loses her mind over the scene that apparently takes place here.
When I look at Declan it’s to see him watching me with amusement. ‘The scene is really more about the internal discovery of the main character than it is the tree,’ he pauses. ‘But it is pretty great.’
I shrug my bag of books off and rest it next to the rock, leaning in to look at the silver tree.
I run my hand along the bark, and there’s something so heartbreaking and hopeful about it, about the flowers and vine brightly adorning it.
It feels so out of place in the rainforest, but there’s a different kind of beauty to it.
‘No one knows who tends to the flowers or the vine,’ says Declan, ‘but they’re always alive, and they never encroach on the rest of the forest.’
I look up at him, and he reaches out to rest a hand on one of the low branches.
‘My stepfather proposed to my mother here,’ he adds, his voice so soft that only I can hear it.
We haven’t talked much about Declan’s birth father since the day in Mayfield almost a week ago now, and I don’t know his mother’s full story, apart from that she adores his stepfather and writes Declan’s dedications.
But the place means enough to him that he included it in a book and on the tour, even with everything that happened with his dad. My fingers itch with the urge to take his hand, but I don’t, and I can feel the end creeping up on us like the moss at the base of the silver tree.
Bri is right – the fans who arrive eagerly down the path at 1.45 p.m. adore the silver tree.
Jed and I watch from the sidelines as groups take photos of the tree, of themselves with the tree, of Declan with the tree. Several people even ask to buy copies of the book early, so they can take photos of it with the tree.
‘It’s all pretty weird, isn’t it,’ says Jed, watching them with a frown on his face.
‘It is,’ I say as a girl walks into the clearing and comes to a dead stop, her jaw dropping open.
She stands like that for a full ten seconds, then literally pinches herself.
‘But there’s also something sort of magic about it, don’t you think?
’ I say. ‘That something so many people read alone becomes a shared experience.’
Jed nods uncertainly, then mutters something about how real magic is a regent honeyeater in flight.
When 2 p.m. comes round, Bri climbs onto the rock, pulling a more reluctant Declan up beside her. The crowd that has been squealing and taking photos falls silent. I think a few people even stop breathing.
The anticipation that fills the air is like a hum. All these people’s lives have been touched and impacted by something that someone created from nothing. And it’s warm and it’s sweet, but it’s also poignant, and something about the moment makes my breath catch and my eyes sting.
Like he’s heard my thoughts, Declan looks to where I’m standing. I can see the pull of nerves along his jaw, and I give him a thumbs up. He shakes his head at me, a small smile on his face, and I feel like I am about a heartbeat away from sobbing irrationally.
I love this.
The thought is more solid than it’s ever been, and I feel it harden to something that feels a lot like resolve as Bri finishes her introduction.
Then she angles her body slightly towards me, and I straighten, because I know what’s coming.
And, since it’s the last stop on the tour, it’s pretty likely she’s going to go big.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I would also like to introduce you to Clarence Brooks, our wonderful bookseller and . . . according to some . . . Declan Archer’s muse.’
Far out, Bri. I’m so focused on trying to stop the familiar blush that it takes a second for me to realise that some of the people at the front are booing.
‘She’s not good enough for you, Declan!’ someone yells, their voice bolstered by the loud agreement of people around them.
Declan’s head snaps up.
What?
The booing gets louder, and it’s probably only five people but it feels like the entire crowd, and then something flies through the air towards me, smacking me in the chest. I look down to see half an apple roll along the book table in front of me, a dull pain echoing through me. My mind blanks.
There’s a murmur of confusion through the crowd, and people start pushing into each other as Jed moves towards the source of the missile. My heart is beating in my ears, my chest, my nose, and Bri is saying something but I can’t quite hear her.
Did someone just throw an apple core at me?
The thought, though, is muffled by the sight in front of me, which is Declan ignoring Bri’s protests, climbing down from the rock and into the jostling crowd.
Where his face was impassive and closed before, now it’s alive with barely masked fury.
It’s that as much as anything that seems to pave a way for him as he stalks across the clearing.
I’m vaguely aware of the volume rising, but Declan’s eyes find mine and hold them, like he’s asking me to stay with him.
And then he’s in front of me, eyes scanning my face. I try to smile but it sticks a little at the edges, and Declan takes a small, imperceptible breath.
He reaches out hesitantly to take my hand, and his palm is warm against mine, jolting me back to the present.
Someone threw a freaking apple core at me.
I feel hysteria rise in my throat, but I swallow it down, and Declan squeezes.
‘Are you with me?’ he breathes, just to me.
I feel like I am and I’m not, like I’m outside of my body watching this weird thing happen. But I also feel angry . Because someone threw a freaking apple core at me. Beyond Declan, the crowd still feels out of control, but he doesn’t rush me.
I nod, and he pushes the books I’ve spent the afternoon neatly stacking to the side, which – of all things – somehow manages to penetrate the shock that I can still feel thumping through my body. I glare at him, and his face finally relaxes.
Then he climbs onto the table. When he speaks, his voice is warm, but it’s sharp enough to cut through the noise of the crowd.
‘Like Bri, I’m very happy to have you all here today.
Talking to Trees is the book of my heart, and it’s an honour to share it with you and to hear your stories.
I can promise you access to me – both today and in every word of the book.
But for anyone who feels like the dedication also gives them access to the bookseller, to Clarrie – it absolutely doesn’t.
That’s an error that’s on me, and I’m sorry.
But respectfully, whoever threw that, I’d like you to leave.
Now.’ He looks down at me, his eyes bright and fierce. ‘We are a team.’
Declan looks over at Bri, who is still standing open-mouthed on the rock.
‘Bri, do you mind if we move the stage over here?’ he asks.
Bri shakes her head, and Declan smiles a lightning smile at the crowd, who for the first time since the event started are genuinely silent.
Like someone could drop a pin and you’d hear it.
‘We’ll be with you in just a moment, everyone,’ says Declan.
‘I promise that in exchange for the delay I’ll even tell you why this place is special. ’
For all that he’s warm and self-deprecating on stage, it’s the most I’ve seen Declan give of himself – and as though he’s not even thinking about it.
A small, awkward cheer goes up from the crowd, but Declan barely seems to notice. He crouches down on the table as Bri makes her way towards us.
‘Do you want to leave?’ he asks, and in this moment, I fully believe that he will call off the event if I ask him to. His expression is wide open, and despite the apple core and the confusion that’s beating in my veins I shake my head.
‘I’m okay.’
He reaches out a hand as though to touch my face, but he doesn’t. Then he stands on the table again, and starts telling the crowd about his mother.
On the other side of the clearing, I can see Jed guarding a few people like a hawk, and Bri squeezes my arm before she melts into the crowd to deal with them. And though they are warm and genuine, Declan’s words feel like a dagger in my chest. We’re a team.
At least, until tomorrow.