TWENTY
The stillness beneath the swamp bloodwood tree has been broken, and people are moving now – some to their cars, some to the side of the house where folding chairs have been arranged in messy circles under the towering gum trees.
James has started the barbecue, and the smell of smoke and something vaguely meat-adjacent drifts across the air.
Beer bottles hiss open, a quiet chorus of grieving Australians trying to make death feel like a Sunday afternoon get-together.
I spot Lauren near the drinks table, her sunglasses pushed into her hair, all long limbs, cute freckles and perfect auburn curls. It’s obvious she’s lived on this land her entire life. People greet her with familiarity. Someone hands her a beer. She laughs at something I can’t hear.
My chest squeezes.
I wrap my arms around myself and stare down at the toes of my high heels digging into the red earth.
I could leave. Quietly. Gracefully, if I really focus.
I could walk back to my rental car, send Luke a vague apology text, and hide away at Ella’s while pretending this was just an accidental detour.
It could be like it never happened. Like we never happened.
The back screen door creaks open, startling me from my spiral.
Ella steps out of the house, baby in one arm and a tray of cucumber sandwiches in the other.
Grateful for a distraction, I immediately step over and take the sandwiches from her. ‘Thanks,’ she huffs and rearranges Daisy in her arms. ‘I was just about offer them around, but you could just pop them on that table over there.’
I wave her off. ‘It’s all good. It’ll give me something to do.’ Ella smiles at me with pity in her eyes, then nods. I move around the yard, politely offering bits of food to glassy-eyed people. It’s not until I’m on the fourth tray that Darcy steps over and trades me for Daisy.
Daisy coos in response when I start swaying. Darcy chuckles over my shoulder. ‘She’s got good taste. She loves troublemakers.’
I look up, and he’s smiling at me – not in that patronising, let’s-be-nice-to-the-messy-one way. Just … warmly. Calmly. Like I’m not a bomb that went off in their world over the past year.
‘Figured you might want some Daisy time given you’ve travelled all this way.’
I look at the tray resting in Darcy’s hand. ‘I don’t mind helping out with—’
Darcy waves me off. ‘Leave the food to me. I’m starving anyway.’
Ella walks over and offers a finger to Daisy, who grasps it with a tiny, raised hand. ‘What are you two gossiping about?’
She looks from Darcy to me and smiles. I don’t know what she sees – ‘cool, calm, collected’ Jamie, or ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ Jamie, or some washed-up version of the old Jamie, the one who danced barefoot at our graduation party with a vodka cruiser in hand.
Either way, she lets me hold on to her baby and that’s all the trust and love I need.
For the first time since arriving, I don’t feel as if I’m trespassing.
I feel like maybe I can … stay. At least for now.
The sun is almost gone, bleeding low behind the trees in streaks of burnt orange and pink. The air is cooler now; even the heat has left everyone alone in their grief.
Luke’s still outside, talking to a man who, predictably, is wearing work boots. Their conversation is low, private. Luke’s shoulders are squared, head bowed, eyes closed.
Sophia and James say their farewells before I follow Ella and Darcy into the house. I know that if I’m left alone – even for a second – I might do or say something stupid.
Inside, half-empty teacups sit abandoned on every available surface, and scraps of food wilt on platters among crumpled napkins. I start cleaning up around the piles of stacked lasagnes and sympathy brownies in plastic containers. The air smells of rosemary and dish soap.
Ella glances at me. ‘Have you eaten?’
I nod too fast. ‘Yeah, I had something earlier.’
She gives me a look, then reaches into the fridge and pulls out a cold finger sandwich, handing it over without comment.
I take it.
It’s not about the sandwich. It’s that she knew I was lying and didn’t make it a thing.
She handed me food like it was a lifeline, not a challenge.
A small kindness, no ceremony. I chew slowly, watching her move around the kitchen, topping up water bottles and folding Daisy’s tiny socks into a corner of her overnight bag.
She’s a natural, like Issy, and my heart swells to see her lean into motherhood with that soft, certain devotion – the kind that not every child gets.
It’s beautiful to watch, and even more awe-inspiring to witness from the sidelines.
I can feel her hovering. Not in an overbearing way – more like a safety net. She’s the buffer I need to save myself from feeling like an intruder.
Oblivious to my gratitude, Ella yawns, soft and unfiltered. ‘We’re gonna crash in the spare room,’ she says. ‘We’re exhausted.’
Darcy lifts a sleeping Daisy from her carrier. ‘She’s done for.’
‘I think I’m going to clean up some more,’ I offer.
Ella waves a hand. ‘Relax. We’ll do it in the morning. You must be tired too.’ She glances over her shoulder at the living room. ‘I packed bedsheets for you. The fold-out couch by the window is the comfiest one.’
Now that she’s said it, I realise I am tired – in that weird, vibrating way where my body’s still moving even though I’ve stopped. Ella gives me one last look, the kind that says, Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.
I nod like I can promise that. Like I’m not a certified expert in messing things up. Darcy offers me a crooked smile as he passes me a pile of sheets. ‘Well, you survived your first country funeral.’
I snort softly. ‘The night’s still young.’
And before I know it, they’re gone. The house feels bigger without them. Still – not empty. Just … waiting to see what I’ll do next.
I drop the linens on the couch and continue cleaning up, putting lids back on containers, rinsing mugs. I wipe down the kitchen counter and fold the tea towel over the oven handle.
I glance outside. Luke’s alone now, eyes looking up to the star- studded sky, cradling an empty beer bottle in one hand. The porch light casts a soft glow across his back. He hasn’t moved in minutes – just sitting there on a weathered bench, silent, staring out into the dark.
It makes me hesitate. I don’t know if I should go to him or leave him alone.
If he wants company or if silence is the only thing holding him together.
It feels awkward to fall asleep on his couch without talking to him first. But going outside to join him feels like I’d be intruding on something deeply personal, a silence someone like me has no business interrupting.
Before I can decide, the screen door creaks again.
Lauren steps inside with a stack of empty platters in one hand and her car keys in the other. Her make-up is slightly smudged. Her smile even more so.
She spots me and pauses. ‘Hey,’ she says gently.
‘Hey.’ My reply is just as soft.
She places the platters on the kitchen counter and straightens one absentmindedly, fingers brushing away invisible crumbs. She eyes my neatly stacked containers. ‘Don’t let Darcy get his hands on that slice tomorrow. Mrs Teakle gave me strict instructions that the leftovers are only for Luke.’
I smile faintly. ‘I wouldn’t blame him. It was a good slice.’
‘The best slice in the state according to the NT baking society,’ Lauren corrects with a tired kind of grin. ‘Apparently she’s revolutionised the condensed-milk-to-coconut ratio.’
‘A bold claim.’
‘A sacred one out here.’
I let out a quiet laugh. It feels like the first real exhale I’ve had in hours.
Lauren leans her hip against the counter. ‘Ella said you flew up here to help with Daisy.’
I shrug. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been much help to be honest. Feels like I’m kind of in the way sometimes.’
Lauren chuckles. ‘Ella talks about you and Abbey all the time. She’s probably just happy you make the effort to visit. It can feel pretty isolating out here otherwise.’
My mind travels to the man outside as I murmur, ‘I can only imagine.’
Lauren watches me for a beat as if assessing me, then her expression softens. ‘Luke’s not great at asking for help.’
I can’t help looking over her shoulder towards the lone figure outside.
‘He likes to think he’s the guy who can fix everything himself. Fences. People. Grief. It’s exhausting to watch.’
‘You care about him.’
She nods and gives me a warm smile. ‘Of course I do. He’s practically family. You on the other hand …’
I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself. ‘Me?’
‘He’s different around you. More annoying and antagonistic, obviously, but also … more relaxed. Like he forgets to be responsible for a second.’
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
Lauren shifts, brushing a stray curl off her face. ‘Just … take care of him, okay?’
It’s not a suggestion. It’s not even really a goodbye. It’s a warning. A passing of a torch she doesn’t want to carry.
I don’t respond. Not because I don’t want to – because I don’t know how to.
She picks up her keys again, then glances towards the front door. ‘I’ve gotta get home before my sister decides to cut her own fringe again. But it was good to see you.’ She says it like she means it.
‘You too.’
She smiles again, then disappears out the door, leaving behind the faint scent of lemon and coconut slice.