Home Truths (10 page)

‘Of course,' but he couldn't stop himself and pressed his lips together to ward off a grin.

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, ‘I thought as much.'

Calum heard voices coming from the kitchen, and saw a blonde head pop around the doorway.

‘Hi!' Her eyes shone with amusement and interest as the rest of her came into view. A teenager, black hair, and black clothes closely followed her.
A Goth?
She had the same cherub features as the blonde. Calum assumed it was her daughter.

‘Calum,' Jennifer said, ‘I'd like you to meet my sister Sofie and my niece Claudia.'

‘Hi, ladies!' His deep voice rumbled down the long hallway. The three women looked just as surprised as he was. He added in a softer tone, ‘Welcome to beautiful Tumble Creek.'

Silence.

He hadn't said anything wrong, had he?

Sofie kept staring at him, while an embarrassed-looking Claudia peered at her mother.

Calum looked from one to the other, wondering if he had something crawling on his shoulder or the top of his head, courtesy of the pub's roof cavity. Nah, they'd be squealing, flapping their hands and pointing
.
He shrugged it off and continued as if there was nothing wrong. ‘Sorry your visit isn't under more pleasant circumstances. My condolences for your loss. Bob was a good bloke.'

Claudia nudged her mother into speech.

‘Um…yes well, if Uncle Bob hadn't passed away,' she stammered, ‘it wouldn't have entered our heads to come this far out of the city unless we were on holidays. But then this town is hardly a place for a holiday and…' He could see she realised she was babbling. Her cheeks went red and the rest of her face followed soon after.

He cut his eyes to Jennifer; she gave her sister an intense look.

Shame,
he thought. Sofie was digging such a nice hole for herself
.
These women fascinated him
.
The sister must've forgotten what she was going to say next. Her mouth parted, but nothing came out. Calum felt that grin coming on and held it in check.

‘I'll just pour some more caffeine into Mum,' Claudia said, pulling at her mother's arm.

‘It doesn't run in the family,' Jennifer asserted. She lifted an eyebrow before turning to walk down the hall.

Head tilted, Calum enjoyed the sway of Jennifer's hips and jiggle of her bum cheeks until they disappeared into a room. He didn't follow, but waited outside the door, leaning against the wall, arms folded, ankles crossed.

Jennifer came back with his jacket dangling from her index finger. She handed it to him and said, ‘Don't move.'

Ah, there
was
something crawling on him. Casually, he ran his fingers through his hair. Couldn't be much, she wasn't squealing.

Jennifer walked straight past him into the kitchen, and Calum felt like a goofy teenager who hoped
he
was the centre of attention, then found he wasn't. Moments later, she came out of the kitchen clutching his grandmother's basket.

‘You're welcome to keep the jacket a while longer,' he told her, taking the basket.

‘Thank you, I'll be fine. Thanks again for tucking me in last night,' she said, head to one side.

Calum indulged in a hot little fantasy that involved the curves of her neck.
Idiot, say something.
She raised her eyebrows. He should speak before he started grinning again.

‘Hope you enjoyed breakfast?' He cringed inside. That was pathetic, but he could hardly say what he was thinking — and he was thinking a lot.

‘I did, and the coffee was heaven. I must remember to thank your grandmother again. She's doing so much for —'

Calum held his hand up to stop her. It was a strain not to move in closer and touch her soft mouth with his fingers. ‘Gran was a good friend of Bob's. She'll do anything to help.'

‘By the way, where can I get some flowers?'

‘Give me a minute and I'll take you to meet Trudy, the florist. But first I'll disconnect the power points, then it won't matter if you plug something in by mistake.' Calum strode off happy that he was going to be in her company a little longer.

When he re-entered the room, he stopped and stared. Muted morning sunlight filtered through the newspaper-covered shop window and touched Jennifer's skin, making it glow. She had no idea how beautiful and bright she looked surrounded by dusty shelves, and an old display case in an empty room.

She must have sensed he was there; she turned to face him. ‘You don't have to lead the way, just point me in the right direction.'

Oh no, now that he had the chance, he wasn't leaving her alone. He intended to stay by her side for as long as it was seemingly possible. ‘It's okay, I'm headed for the bank and the flower shop is on the way.' Not quite the truth, but he'd walk the extra mile to enjoy her company a little longer.

* * *

As they walked along the footpath, Jennifer felt Calum's solid presence beside her. It gave her an undefinable feeling and it irritated her that she couldn't label it exactly. It felt nice, only better. Like an itch — no, more a tickle — in the stomach that reached up through her chest and sat at the hollow of her throat. Similar to butterflies, but more like bats. She let go a long sigh.

Calum looked at her. ‘What was that for?'

‘I don't really know.' Ain't that the truth
?
‘It's such a beautiful day.'

‘It'll be a scorcher. Round lunchtime you'll be able to fry eggs on the road.'

‘Yum.'
Jennifer pulled a face.

She felt relief that Australian shop awnings stretched across the footpath and gave them shade from the blazing sun. Jennifer caught the smell of steamy hot tar thanks to the previous night's rain. All that remained from that summer storm were a few puddles. The raindrop prisms on trees and flowers from earlier that morning had long since evaporated.

‘I s'pose you wouldn't find anything like Tumble Creek in Europe?' Calum asked.

‘Not even remotely. But what Europe lacks in space it makes up for in history and charm.'

‘Charm hey?' Calum nodded.

‘Yeah, charm.' She stressed the word charm with a look. ‘For instance, I live in a beautiful eighteenth-century building. Fortunately, the electrics and plumbing work.'

‘Yeah, Bob let that go. Something will have to be done about it soon.'

‘How could he live like that?'

‘Don't know. We tried,' Calum shrugged. ‘Here we are.' Calum stopped in front of a purple shop with painted vines and flowers over the picture window. ‘Trudy will look after you.' He paused, eyes penetrating hers with…she wasn't sure, except for one thing, it was deep and it was hot. ‘Got to go.' A tick flicked a muscle above his jaw. ‘See you later, Jen.'

He took her hand in both of his and leaned towards her. For just a moment, his gentle expression changed to a frown, then in a flash it was gone. Had she blinked, she would've missed it.

‘Later,' he said smiling, and left.

Jennifer's knees felt weird, she sighed and entered the flower shop.

‘Isn't he a doll,' the ponytailed, doe-eyed young woman behind the counter said with a smile. ‘He's not married, you know. Every single woman within two hundred miles has tried to get him to the altar.'

Something about this conversation disturbed Jennifer enough to ask, ‘He's dated plenty of times, though?'

‘He did for years and then…' Trudy brushed leaves and twigs off the counter into a small bin.

‘And then what?'

‘Never mind. What can I get you?'

Okay, not a gossiper. That's good, she supposed. ‘We're in town for Bob Feldman's funeral, he's our uncle.'

‘Bob was a wonderful man.'

‘Do you have any purple irises? They were his favourite.'

‘I ordered some in for Mrs McGregor and Mrs Jarvis and they took all I had, I'm sorry.' Trudy shrugged. ‘But he loved roses, too. In fact, he used to put yellow roses and blue irises together, a perfect combination.'

‘Okay, could I please have four long-stemmed, yellow roses, thanks.'

Trudy selected four beautiful roses, the best from a large bunch. ‘A lovely choice. They have a pink tinge along the edge of the petals, is that okay?'

Jennifer leaned over the counter to see. ‘They're perfect.'

A lump in her throat, Jennifer blinked away her tears as Trudy wrapped the roses in cellophane and purple tissue paper. She cradled them back to Uncle Bob's. Their delicate scent and lovely petals nearly brought her to tears. This was it, the reality of her Uncle Bob's death, flowers for his coffin.

Chapter 7

After the heat outdoors, it was a pleasure to be back inside her uncle's home and feel cool air on her skin. Never mind the goose bumps, Jennifer thought. She hurried upstairs into the kitchen and placed the roses in the sink with a little water.

Sofie had left a note on the kitchen table.
‘Didn't know how long you'd be, wink-wink. Gone for a walk and then back to the motel to get ready. See you later. Hugs, Sofie.'

There is no wink-wink.
‘Well, maybe just a little,' Jennifer muttered. She went into Bob's den, hoping to find something that would tell her more about her uncle and why he had sent them that mysterious message about meaning no harm. She made herself comfortable in his studded leather chair and opened drawers, looking for papers or a personal journal. She found handwritten notes in his daily schedule. Her uncle had helped raise funds for the high school hockey team, for hospital equipment and other local charities. He had done so much for the community, much more than he'd ever let on. Jennifer felt a surge of pride, but with that came a sense of pressure to do the right thing by him.

Engrossed in the papers around her, she didn't realise how much time had slipped by. She glanced at her watch: it was three in the afternoon. ‘Shit!' She had less than half an hour to get ready for the funeral. She ran across the hall into the pink bedroom, peeled off her clothes, aimed a few squirts of deodorant at her armpits and wriggled into her slightly wrinkled black dress. She slapped on a little make-up and grabbed her matching black shoes, then hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Yanking the dripping roses out of the sink she rewrapped them. Barefoot she headed downstairs, slipping her shoes on when she reached the bottom.

As she ran through the shop a teasing, little voice in her head said, someone should fill this space with drapes and furniture. Someone like you.
Bugger off!
She yanked the front door open and waited on the pavement for her sister and niece. The dry, afternoon heat almost made it difficult to breath. She pulled out her mobile to ring Sofie and say she'd be waiting inside, when she noticed the text message.
We tried to do the right thing and attend this funeral, but we've been let down again — by Bob, and you, Jennifer.
I'm so disappointed in you. Mother.

Anger rose inside her until she thought she would scream. She looked up from her mobile and saw her sister's battered green station wagon barrelling down Grey Street, and the sting of her mother's crap message vanished. Almost.

Sofie brought the car to a stop at the kerb in front of the shop, its doors opened and her sister and niece piled out. ‘But you always wear black,' Sofie was saying to Claudia, making hand gestures an Italian would envy. She was wearing her simple black dress cinched in at the waist with a wide belt. ‘Now all of a sudden you want to wear a kaleidoscope of colours to Uncle Bob's funeral?' Jennifer met her sister's eyes with a meaningful gaze of her own. ‘What, Jen? You don't think I'm right?'

‘Think about it, Sofie.' Jennifer slipped an arm around her sister's shoulder. ‘What does it really matter?'

‘Our argument was on a roll.' Sofie shrugged and turned to face her daughter. ‘I just wish you'd wear colour at home occasionally.'

‘Well, she's wearing it today.' Jennifer smiled at her niece.

Claudia was wearing a red and green tartan miniskirt, a red figure-hugging T-shirt, red and green striped socks long enough to cover her knees, and ankle boots. She'd put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail that had red spiky bits sticking out from the top.

‘Claudia's outfit is quite appropriate considering we're in Celtic country. But maybe your mum's right, a little colour now and then?' Claudia's eyes narrowed in on Jennifer. ‘Then again, maybe not. Come on, let's go, I'm melting. And I'd like to get to the chapel before everyone else.'

* * *

It was twenty to four when they walked into St Mary's. The scent of incense and burning candles took Jennifer back to her childhood, when she and Sofie, under duress, had to attend Sunday Mass without fail. Nevertheless, today she felt comforted as she gazed at the sunlight beaming through tall stained-glass windows. A kaleidoscope of vibrant colours fell on arrangements of purple irises and the dazzling white lace-trimmed altar cloth. Her uncle would have loved the atmosphere surrounding them.

Although they stepped lightly, their footfalls echoed on the rich, timber floors. Jennifer smiled and led her sister and niece to the front pew, talking in whispers.

‘Why are we here so early?' Sofie asked, nervous fingers fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.

‘I'm hoping Father Thomas will be here. I'd like to have a quick word with him.'

A flurry of white vestments caught Jennifer's eye, and she turned to see a priest stride in through a side door. He carried a vase of penny gum sprigs and looked to be in his late sixties, a stout man with a bald pate gleaming under rays of amber light. Mesmerised, Jennifer's thoughts strayed.
He's got a halo.
He placed the vase in front of the organ, then walked towards them.

‘Hello there.' His round freckled face broke into a warm smile. ‘You're Jennifer, Sofie and Claudia,' he said. ‘It's lovely to finally meet you all. In case you're wondering, it's not a divine connection, Bob was always showing me photos of you.'