Chapter Two #2
With no body found, and not a single sighting, her little sister would remain at the core of her inability to heal.
And as for her mother’s death, she wasn’t sure what emotions would greet her in Wildstone.
Maybe detached acceptance. Maybe deep sobbing grief.
Maybe nothing at all. Almost thirteen years of no contact with Claire, and not by her own choice, had rendered her cold to the bond a child should feel towards their mother.
It was sad, but it was the truth, and she’d learnt, the hard way, to follow her truth.
Because if she’d listened to her mother’s warped version of it, she’d be an utterly broken soul.
Not wanting to dwell on the cruelty she’d endured as Claire’s surviving child—she’d likely have plenty of time for that in Wildstone—her gaze followed the sleek, silver wing of the plane as it sliced through the vast expanse of blue sky.
It made her feel unreachable, out of reality, and she relished the sensation, if only for this little while.
Closing her eyes, she let the rhythmic pulse of the aircraft lull her racing mind into a state of peace as she recalled her years of lessons at her father’s popular, and very successful, karate school.
Every movement he’d patiently taught her was deliberate, every breath he’d showed her how to inhale and exhale was a channel for focus and control, every thought he trained her to rule or let go of, was precise.
Those same principles would guide her now, as she prepared to face whatever awaited her.
Then, switching her train of thought, she breathed in deeply, drawing on the calming practices of Rae’s yoga classes that she attended every Saturday morning.
Between her masculine hero and feminine role model, her life was a balance of self-defence and centred calm.
Talk about opposites attracting; her dad and Rae were deeply in love, and had been since the moment they’d met.
She could only dream of one day having a marriage, and respectful love, like theirs.
As she felt herself sinking further into the window seat, her mind slowed, drifted, then dozed.
When Nyah opened her eyes again, the sky had begun to transform itself with strokes of vibrant colour.
Dusk was descending, as were they. And as the pilot announced their descent, her heart began to beat faster with both trepidation and fortitude.
She sat up straight and peered out, watching as the patchwork of land came towards them at rapid speed.
This was it. The moment she’d envisioned for what felt like forever.
It felt oddly surreal. The big difference from what she’d imagined was that she was saying her final goodbye to her mother, instead of a long-dreamt-of hello.
And that hurt like hell. This trip would spell the beginning of an ending, or perhaps just another beginning.
Whichever it turned out to be, she was ready to face it head-on.
Or so she hoped.
Half an hour later the wheels of the taxi crunched over the parched, sun-baked dirt road that led into the heart of Wildstone, stirring up clouds of dust that swirled in the hot summer air.
The township’s welcome sign flashed past her window, announcing the population was now 15,564.
Wow, it had grown in the years she’d been away.
She regarded the landscape that was aglow in the last of the sun’s rays, dotted with cattle and horses, noting the flat plains and distant looming mountains that were familiar yet at the same time weirdly foreign after all the years away.
Turning in her seat, she watched as a dust devil danced across an open paddock, the sight a poignant reminder of her childhood days spent exploring Mother Nature’s playground by foot, pushbike or horseback, with Skye, Caleb and Hope never far from her side.
Reaching the main street, she could see the town itself seemed fairly unchanged by time, its weather-beaten shopfronts and old-fashioned signs giving it an almost untouched quality.
As did the huddle of old-timers congregating outside the IGA, their wide-brimmed hats pulled low and their cigarette smoke spiralling high.
Stopping at a pedestrian crossing, she peered through the backseat window as if it were a portal to her past. The old post office stood defiantly among the newer structures—its redbrick frontage faded but still strong.
She couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as she remembered countless moments spent dashing past it with her younger sister, their laughter trailing behind like a second shadow as they raced to the local bakery for their favourite treat of fresh cream buns washed down with a can of sarsaparilla.
‘Looks different than you remember?’ The gruff voice of the taxi driver broke through her thoughts, but it wasn’t unfriendly, just timeworn.
‘Every corner holds a memory, I suppose,’ she mumbled, her words barely audible over the hum of the radio playing an old country tune. ‘For me, anyway.’ A quick glance in his direction confirmed she didn’t need to explain further; the understanding in his eyes reflected her sentiments.
As they turned towards the place that she’d be calling home for the next little while—the only Airbnb rental for miles—her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the Wildstone General Store.
Peeling paint advertised farm supplies and cold drinks just as it always had, enticing recollections of scorching summer days spent sipping ice-cold spiders—a mixture of soft drink and ice-cream—or slurping up fast-dripping icy poles.
Those had been the days she still held fondly within her shielded heart.
As for the eighteen excruciating months after Skye’s disappearance, when her entire life had been turned upside down and inside out, she wished she could forget every second.
More than anything, she wished with all her heart that Skye was still here, alive and well.
The taxi came to a stop outside of a shoe shop.
Just behind the building, she could make out the roof of the one-bedroom bungalow she’d rented for the next six nights.
Thank goodness for the lockbox that would allow her entrance, because she didn’t feel up to small talk with the owner.
With a steady hand, she gathered her handbag and stepped out of the passenger seat, ready to face the demons of her past with unwavering determination.
Passing over thirty dollars, she then thanked the driver and took the steps up the side of the shop, dragging the suitcase the driver had retrieved from the boot.
Stepping inside less than a minute later, she shut the door behind her and looked around.
With a quaint farmhouse feel, the place was cuter than she’d expected, and better than the photos had portrayed.
A comfortable-looking cream couch with big cushions and a fluffy throw beckoned her into the lounge room, which shared space with the small but contemporary kitchen and a two-seater dining table.
A Nespresso machine sat front and centre, and upon a quick inspection of the fridge, she smiled when she spotted the welcome basket filled with breakfast goodies—eggs, bacon, two heirloom tomatoes, a tub of strawberries and a block of real butter.
Beside it lay a bottle of white wine, and on the bench was a loaf of fresh sourdough that looked as if the owner had baked it.
All of which was unexpected, and very lovely.
Leaving her suitcase to unpack later, she moved to the wide bay window and gazed up at the dusky sky that stretched over Wildstone like a protective dome.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass pane, her bright blue eyes burning with fierce determination.
It gave her the boost she needed to believe she could face her mother’s funeral, confront the whispers around the town that undoubtedly would’ve started with Claire’s passing and Nyah’s likely return, and hopefully seek some answers to the unspoken questions that still haunted her.
Someone here had to know something about the day Skye had gone missing.
Someone here was hiding the dark truth. She was certain of it.
Her twelve-year-old sister hadn’t just disappeared into thin air.
And Skye would have fought like hell if anyone had tried to take her or hurt her.
Loud enough for someone to have heard it. Surely.
She shuddered, briefly closing her eyes against the intense ache in her heart.
The weight of her guilt about being the last one to see Skye clung to her, but she was determined to cleanse herself of it, to find a way through the sorrow and loss.
How had it been her doing? Even though her mum liked to point the finger, her dad was right—it wasn’t her fault that one minute Skye Love was in the front yard with her, playing beneath the sprinkler in her favourite polka-dot togs, then the next minute, when her mum had appeared with a freshly baked plate of Anzac biscuits, she was gone.
And she’d never come home.
Closing the curtains, Nyah turned away from the darkness now settling over the township.
The bungalow, promising temporary anonymity, could not shield her from what lay ahead, but for now she’d find solace within its walls.
So she unpacked slowly, took a shower, then made herself a fresh tomato sandwich that was delicious in its simplicity, washed down with half a bottle of sav blanc.
Then, completely exhausted, she readied herself for bed.
Slipping beneath the comfort of the soft sheets and feather doona, with the air conditioner doing a fabulous job of making the bungalow nice and icy, she allowed her eyes to close and her breathing to steady.
Tomorrow she would emerge into the unforgiving Australian landscape, beneath the harsh outback sun, and confront the township of Wildstone with the courage of a woman who’d weathered countless storms.
But for now, she needed sleep.
Which didn’t come easily.
Instead, she lay in the darkness with an anxious heart for what felt like an eternity, before dropping off the edge of consciousness into dreamland, where she, Skye and Caleb Hart gallivanted around the landscape that had swallowed her sister whole.