The Family Tree (37 page)

‘I didn't say I wasn't in favour.' Kate pointed towards the traffic lights. ‘Green.'

Sam nodded and drove off. ‘I can always help them anyway.'

‘That's right. Because you keep your
own
business paperwork in such tiptop condition.' Kate looked at him. ‘Speaking of which, how
is
everything going?'

‘Well . . .' Sam grimaced. ‘Actually, it's all just waiting for you. I did try, but I couldn't make head or tail of your system.'

‘That's not
my
system, it's the government's. Clearly I'll have to spend some time with you, going over it all.'

‘Good. I'm in desperate need of some going over.'

Kate glanced across, both pleased and surprised by how
easy
this all was. ‘Play your cards right and we'll see what happens.'

‘I'd rather just have a good hand to start off with.'

Kate smiled, slowly. ‘Are we still talking about cards?'

‘What else?' Sam stopped at another intersection behind a large truck that belched plumes of black smoke from the exhaust pipe. He looked at her for a moment. ‘I'm sorry about the house.'

‘No, it's not your fault,' said Kate quickly, filled with a sort of exultation
that the subject had been raised. ‘I should have told you what I wanted. Not expected you to have some sort of ESP.'

‘Yeah, but I
did
rush it all a bit. It was just fitting it between other jobs, and I didn't really think.'

Kate looked down at her hands, clasped loosely across her lap. ‘But I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. It wasn't fair.'

‘Oh, well. It's done now.'

‘Yes. All done now,' Kate straightened in her seat, and stared ahead as Sam drove away from the intersection and changed lanes heading towards the blue-grey bulk of Mount Dandenong. Kate wanted to talk about other things, and had actually
expected
the conversation to continue, but silence had suddenly fallen like a blanket. And the longer it went on, the harder it was to shake off. She wound her window down a bit further and leant her head to the side, feeling the air whisk through the gap and blow roughly against her face as she listened to the steady drone of the engine, whipping past in the wind. She took a deep breath and then wound up her window so that she wouldn't have to raise her voice. ‘Um, are you not speaking to me?'

Sam looked at her, clearly stunned. ‘What?'

‘Well, you haven't said a word for ages. Since we spoke about . . . the house.'

‘Are you
kidding
me?' Sam shook his head and started to laugh.

‘Glad you're so amused,' said Kate stiffly.

‘Sometimes I just don't get women.' Sam took one hand off the steering wheel and pointed at her. ‘
You
think we're not talking, and
I
think we're having a companionable silence!'

Kate stared at him. After a few minutes, she started to laugh as well. ‘You did?'

‘Absolutely. Why not?'

‘Maybe because things are a little . . . well,
awkward
. What with not having spoken for almost four weeks.'

Sam concentrated on the road. ‘I thought it best to give you some space. Although I was a bit surprised it stretched out so long. Didn't time fly, hey?'

‘Oh, it sure did,' replied Kate, her laughter petering off.

Sam glanced over with concern. ‘I thought that's what you wanted? Some space?'

‘Oh, it was. And that's what I was doing for
you
too. Giving you some space.'

‘What did
I
need space for?'

‘You know,' replied Kate airily. She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes but didn't know why. She took a deep breath and turned to him. ‘I've taken a lot out on you lately, haven't I?'

Sam kept his eyes on the road. ‘You could say that.'

‘I
am
saying that. And . . .' Kate willed him to look in her direction. ‘You know when you said I was moving into the unit to . . . well, punish you?'

‘Yes. I remember.'

‘I think you may have been right. Just a bit.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. I mean, I
did
want to write a book. You know that. But I don't think I would ever have moved out if it hadn't been for . . . you know.'

‘Your father.'

‘Yes.'

Sam sighed but still didn't look at her. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to help someone who won't let you?'

‘I know,' Kate nodded. ‘But it was difficult. Still is, just maybe not as much.'

‘Look, I'm not saying it wasn't a hell of a thing to go through. And I still reckon you should've talked to someone back then. I think it'd still help now, just as a sort of release. But we can talk about that later.'

Kate waited, but he didn't continue. She took a deep breath. ‘Maybe. Because I was so . . .' she searched for the right word, but there didn't seem to be one. ‘Angry,' she finished lamely. ‘So angry.'

‘Yeah, I got that.'

‘And I don't think I knew what to do with it. So, well, all the stuff about developing the land probably let me channel that anger . . . against you for doing it. Not that I let it show, all that much.'

‘Oh no, not at all,' Sam gave a short bark of laughter.

Kate stared ahead and spoke tightly. ‘So . . . I'm sorry. Okay?'

Sam didn't answer this and the ensuing silence began to deepen uncomfortably again. This wasn't a companionable silence, not at all. In fact, it was beginning to segue into humiliation. And vulnerability. Then suddenly Sam's hand was on her right thigh, not with so much a smoothly supportive gesture as an awkward thump, but all the more welcome because of that. Kate stared at it for a few seconds, at his square-tipped fingers and workman-like hands, and then put her own on top, entwining her fingers loosely through his.

‘Are we okay now, though?' asked Sam, watching the road.

‘God, I
hope
so.'

They slowed down as they entered the small town of Yarra Glen and Sam glanced at her, with a quick grin, as he took his hand back. The wind had picked up now and curly brown autumn leaves skittered across the road to dance along the gutters.

Now that she had said what she wanted to say, what she
needed
to say, and it had been accepted, Kate felt queasy with relief. But also, at the same time, warmed by a sense of peace.

‘You know, I reckon you've got every right to be angry,' said Sam, almost conversationally. ‘Not at me, mind you. But at what happened.'

‘Yes.'

‘Because it shouldn't have
had
to happen. Not like that. The man made a rational decision months before, and when the time came, he had a right to die with dignity.' Sam reached over with his left hand and held hers loosely. ‘There's something wrong when you can be as sick as a dog but the dog's got more bloody rights.'

‘You mean to be . . . euthanased. Put down.'

Sam glanced over at her. ‘If somebody's in that much pain, and there's no hope, then they should have the choice. And if they decide they want to end it, then that should be bloody well respected. So that they can slip away peacefully, with their family around them. It's only common decency, for god's sake.'

‘I agree. One hundred percent.'

‘And they should never have to go through what James had to.' Sam hesitated for a moment. ‘Or ask relatives to go through what you did.'

Kate stared at him and suddenly realised that he was angry too. Her easygoing, laid-back Sam was angry. ‘Do you blame my father . . . for that?'

He hesitated again, a moment too long. ‘No, not really. And anyway I've gotten myself sidetracked. What I wanted to say was that I reckon you
should
be angry. Just make sure you point it in the right direction.'

‘And what direction would that be?'

‘The government. Politicians. All those who know that most of the population would support euthanasia but refuse to put it to a vote.'

‘Yes.' Kate looked back out of the window at the grassy, rolling hills that formed a picturesque backdrop for the paddocks that lined the road. She wondered, suddenly, whether one of those lawmakers ever had a relative make the most fundamental of choices, like her father had, and then have to suffer so horribly as a result.

‘You're a writer.
Use
that anger. Write about it.'

Kate looked down at their joined hands. ‘Actually, I have. But I know what you mean . . . and I'll think about it.'

‘Anyway, change of subject.' Sam squeezed her hand and then let it go, putting both his hands back on the steering wheel. ‘I hear you've been writing flat out?'

Kate nodded proudly. ‘Yes. And enjoying every minute.'

‘What's it about?'

‘Actually . . . my mother. Sort of.'

Sam glanced at her curiously. ‘So you took up my idea then? To write about your own mother instead of Angie's?'

‘That's right.' Kate smiled with surprise. ‘I'd forgotten about that.'

‘That'd be right. I never get the recognition I deserve.'

Kate looked at him pensively. ‘No, maybe you don't.'

‘Hey, I was only joking.'

‘I'm not.'

‘In that case, it does go
both
ways, you know. You might take me for granted sometimes, but I do the same to you.'

‘True. But then I suppose if we
didn't
take each other for granted every now and again, that'd mean we never really relaxed.'

‘Very philosophical of you, my love.'

Kate laughed contentedly, her queasiness almost gone. They passed a sign for the Kinglake National Park and started up a winding road that was thickly bordered by hugely towering trees. After a while, Kate glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw, with some surprise, that it was getting close to midday.

Sam followed her gaze. ‘Do you want to stop for lunch soon? Maybe in Yea?'

‘Sure,' Kate nodded and was about to make a comment about Angie, and lunch, when she suddenly realised where they were headed, and immediately marvelled that it had taken so long to occur to her. ‘We're going to Eildon, aren't we?'

‘God, took you long enough.'

‘Maybe I had other things on my mind.' Kate turned to look at Sam curiously. ‘Um, why are we going to Eildon?'

‘Birthday surprise.'

‘Then we won't be driving back again today?'

‘Nope.'

‘Is the caravan still habitable?' Kate grimaced at the thought. ‘And I don't have anything with me. No clothes or anything.'

‘All taken care of,' said Sam, with a smug smile.

Kate stared at him. ‘The sports bag.'

‘Yep. Good old Angie.'

‘You mean Angie
knew
about this? And she packed me some things?'

Sam nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

‘Don't know if I like being kept in the dark,' said Kate lightly.

‘I know the feeling.'

Kate glanced at him quickly to gauge this response, but he grinned at her, taking the sting out of his words. She smiled back until he turned to face the road again, and then she stared out of the window, watching the trees whip past. She knew there was still a bit of work to be done
with Sam, to repair the damage done over the last year, but for the first time she felt confident that they were on the right track. And maybe, in the long run, their marriage might even be strengthened by the whole experience. Yet another gift.

A large truck roared past, on the opposite side of the road, with a line of cars trailing behind it as if playing follow-the-leader. Kate watched them zip past, one by one, and thought about how odd it was that one could feel so safe, encased inside a metal cocoon and hurtling along at about one hundred kilometres per hour. It actually defied common sense.

Soon afterwards they stopped in Yea, at a busy roadside café, and bought hamburgers for lunch; then took off again just after one o'clock. Kate expected to drive straight through but, after only twenty minutes or so, Sam pulled off the road and parked diagonally before a small general store. A Streets ice-cream sign on a metal frame swung lazily in the breeze, and multi-coloured plastic strips hung from the doorway. Sam turned to her with a grin and she started to laugh. ‘Oh, my god. Yarck coffee, how could I have forgotten?'

‘Coming right up.' Sam got out and went inside the store, the plastic strips noisily rearranging themselves behind him.

Kate leant back, still smiling. Over the years, when they had come up here on a regular basis, it had become a sort of tradition to stop in Yarck, just outside Yea, for a coffee-break. Not because the coffee was particularly remarkable, but because all three kids had absolutely loved the name. And the way it could transform any comment. How's your day been?
Yarck
. How's your coffee?
Yarck
. What does a cockatoo say?
Yarck, yarck, yarck
.

Sam came back out, bearing two takeaway cardboard coffee cups. Kate stretched over to open his door for him, and he got in awkwardly, passing her over one of the cups. ‘Yarck coffee, ma'am. Specially brewed.'

‘Thank you, kind sir. How terribly yarck of you.'

Sam grinned. ‘Some things never change.'

‘No, some things don't,' agreed Kate. She looked across at him. ‘So, are you going to tell me why you've been going to Eildon so much lately?'

‘Just having a break, that's all.'

‘Don't give me that.' Kate shook her head dismissively. ‘We've hardly been up there for ages. Yet now all of a sudden it's your favourite hangout?'

‘Maybe I needed somewhere to have a . . . what did you call your break? A
hiatus
, that's right. So maybe I needed one too?'

‘
My
hiatus wasn't a three hour drive away. And why are
we
suddenly going up there?'