Lawson's Bend Page 9

  ‘What?’ Henny said with a frown. ‘Seriously, Charlie, you’ve lost me.’

  Charlie moved a little closer and dropped her voice so the others couldn’t hear. ‘Henny, he likes you—you know that, don’t you? He always has and still does. Stephen been hot for you for years.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know—’

  Charlie broke in. ‘Yeah, you do.’

  ‘Listen, I’ve just moved back and I’m not looking for anything—except for reconnecting with some old friends. It’s not the right time.’

  ‘If you say so, but he’s a good guy—you know, a decent one, and sometimes they’re hard to find. I mean, just look at Toby McGinty—I saved his life and he broke my heart. How is that even fair? We’ve all been hurt and not just by what happened up at the res but everything that came after it. We’ve had to muddle through as best we can. With Stephen at least you know there’s a solid foundation to begin with.’ Charlie paused for a moment and she looked a little sheepish. ‘Gosh, listen to me gossiping on like I’m in high school. I didn’t even ask if you already had someone in your life.’

  Henny shook her head. ‘I haven’t, but like I said, I’m not really in a place to think about anything like that right now.’

  ‘Alright then, I’ll shut up and mind my own business,’ Charlie said with a grin. ‘But you know me, I’ve never been one to hold back.’

  Henny let out a laugh and gave Charlie another hug. ‘Which is why I’ve always liked you.’

  ‘Good to hear. And now, changing the subject, you said that you were thinking of sourcing locally made products for your shop. Well, I might have something.’

  ‘Ooh, tell me everything. Just remember that whatever it is, it has to be little,’ Henny said as she held up her thumb and forefinger as a gauge.

  ‘Well, they’re a bit bigger than that but Gemma makes absolutely beautiful scented candles. Maybe that’s something you could think about as well?’

  ‘Gemma? Our Gemma?’ Henny asked, glancing to the other end of the table where Gemma Hart tucked a strand of shoulder-length straight brown hair behind her ear as she continued an animated conversation with Mikey Lawson.

  ‘Yes, that Gemma. She calls it her hobby-passion and I swear the candles are to die for.’

  Henny had never really thought of a candle with that much passion but she was certainly intrigued enough to talk to Gemma. The more she thought about it, the more she imagined that they could be a good fit for her shop—if nothing else they’d make the place smell wonderful.

  ‘Thanks, Charlie, that’s an interesting idea.’

  ‘Speaking of interesting,’ Charlie said as she nudged her arm.

  Henny looked up to see Stephen walking towards her with a couple of drinks in his hands. He had an easy gait and an air of being comfortable in his own skin. Stephen was handsome, she’d always known that, but it wasn’t in that sexy, menacing kind of way. Okay, maybe ‘menacing’ wasn’t the right word—‘intense’ was probably better. She doubted that Stephen could be menacing even if he wanted to. He’d grown up in the last ten years, just like they all had, but Henny could still see flashes of the sweet, shy guy from high school.

  Stephen was safe and dependable, and not the type of guy that Henny needed. Ever since Ethan she hadn’t dated very often, but when she did she always went for the bad boys—the pretty ones who would make her laugh and feel alive, and were easy to walk away from without looking back. It was better that way—no strings attached, no feelings involved or hearts crushed.

  ‘Here you go,’ Stephen said as he handed her a glass.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. She hoped that Charlie was wrong because she liked Stephen and the last thing she’d ever want to do is hurt him. She’d suspected that he’d had a crush on her at school but that was in the past—surely it wouldn’t be the case now. A frown lined her brow as she thought of how she’d let him take her hand and she told herself that she’d been swept up in the raw feeling of the memorial.

  ‘Is everything alright, Hen?’ Stephen said as he sat down next to her.

  ‘Oh yes, of course. I was just thinking of something I have to do for the shop,’ Henny lied as she took a sip of her white wine. ‘Charlie suggested that I ask Gemma about her candles.’

  ‘Great idea. So are you going to put any of your own paintings in the shop?’

  Henny let out a self-conscious laugh. ‘Oh, I haven’t painted in years—that was Mum’s thing, not mine.’

  ‘But you were good—I remember.’

  ‘Thanks but . . .’

  ‘Maybe you should try it again. You’re starting afresh so why not add in all the things that you like or miss or tell yourself you don’t have time to do?’

  ‘That’s not a bad philosophy—do you practice what you preach?’

  Stephen looked at her for a moment. ‘Sometimes.’

  Henny couldn’t understand how his answer had the ability to make her cheeks flush. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or the tone of his voice, but whatever the hell it was she knew no good could come from it. Time to stop this before someone got hurt.

  She leaned in closer and spoke softly so no one else could hear. ‘I like you, Stephen, I really do. I want us to be friends,’ she said, ‘but that’s all it can be right now.’

  He’d bent his head down so he could catch her words.

  ‘I’m still trying to work through Mum’s death and I’m also flat out with the shop idea. I hope I haven’t got this all wrong but I just wanted you to know that I’m pretty sure I’m not the type you’re looking for.’

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Well, someone you can have a future with. I’m not that person right now—my relationships crash and burn, usually before they’ve even left the runway.’

  ‘Maybe you’re wrong.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Stephen was silent for a minute before he reached over and grabbed his lemon squash. He took a sip and set the glass back down before he said anything.

  ‘Alright, let’s say that you’re not wrong. If friendship is the only way I can have you in my life then I’m okay with that. When I said that I’m glad that you’ve finally come home I meant it.’

  ‘This won’t get awkward, will it?’ Henny asked.

  ‘We’re friends, why would it?’

  She gave him a nudge. ‘Thanks, Stephen, that means a lot. So we’re good then?’

  ‘We’re good,’ he said with a nod.

  Henny felt relieved. She thought about what he said about her being in his life and she felt the same way. What she needed right now were true friends and so far he had been there for her, just like that night at the res. If it wasn’t for Stephen there was a good chance that Henny would have drowned with the others. Because of that there would always be a bond of friendship between them, and that was great because she knew when it came to more intimate relationships, she was complete rubbish.

  The afternoon gave way to the half-light of evening and still the friends talked, laughed and reminisced. More food and drinks were ordered as they reconnected. It made Henny happy to be sitting at the table and watching her old friends. The years seemed to melt away and she slipped into their company just like putting on a glove. Henny looked up at the fairy lights in the big oak tree as they twinkled against the now darkening night sky. She’d forgotten just how magical the stars were at Lawson’s Bend—at home.

  Sometime after the food was done, Ethan materialised by her side. Henny took a breath before she turned and gave him a smile.

  ‘Hey, Henny, how have you been doing?’

  ‘Good. How about you?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Believe it or not, I’m a PE teacher at the high school.’

  ‘Oh really? And how are your parents?’

  ‘Still the same. Listen, I just wanted to say that if you want to hang out now that you’re back, I’m up for it.’

  ‘Um, right. You’re up for it?’

  ‘Always, Hen,’ he said with a wink.

&n
bsp; ‘Well, thanks, Ethan, that’s interesting,’ Henny replied with an arched eyebrow. Yep, still a jerk. ‘I’ll let you know about catching up.’

  ‘Sweet,’ he said, giving her a lopsided grin. ‘I’ll see you around then.’

  Like that was going to happen, Henny thought as she watched him swagger off in Gemma’s direction. She turned her attention back to the table just in time to catch Stephen’s gaze. He gave her a wink of his own while he continued his conversation with Dan. Henny shook her head with a wry smile.

  Dan tilted his head towards Ethan. ‘Having fun?’

  ‘I just realised that some people never change,’ Henny replied. ‘But as for the rest of the evening, it’s been great catching up. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed everyone until now.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s good to be together,’ Dan said. ‘Just wish we were all here.’

  The three of them were silent for a moment as they reflected on the faces missing.

  ‘Hey, I was going to ask you guys about Harley,’ Henny finally said.

  ‘What about him?’ Dan replied. ‘There’s not a lot to know.’

  ‘Come on, Dan, it’s a fair enough question,’ Stephen said. ‘Henny hasn’t been around.’

  Dan shrugged. ‘Harley never recovered from that night. Something in his mind has slipped—I don’t know, he’s just not the same as he was. We all keep an eye on him but generally he keeps to himself.’

  ‘What he really needs is professional help,’ Stephen added. ‘But he won’t take it.’

  ‘Is he a danger?’

  ‘Nah,’ Dan said. ‘Only to himself. Personally, I think he’s doing a bit better—ever since he got that dog he’s been a bit more grounded or something.’

  ‘Yeah, I think you’re right about the dog,’ Stephen agreed.

  Dan rested his arms on the table. ‘The fact is that the drownings affected all of us, but some more than others. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about Harley—he’s a bit off kilter but harmless enough.’

  ‘It’s such a shame,’ Henny said.

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ Dan replied as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘But there’s nothing that you can do, so you may as well stop worrying about it, Henny.’

  After that the conversation turned lighter as tall stories from back in the day were shared. The reunion carried on until the bar closed and then continued into the early hours at Charlie’s place.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Henny opened one eye at the old-fashioned clock by the side of her bed and tried to focus on the numbers. She was surprised to see that it was only a few minutes before six in the morning, given it was after 1:30 a.m. when she finally made it home from Charlie’s place.

  She lay back against her pillows and tried to go back to sleep. Weren’t Sunday mornings meant to be laidback and chilled? There was no reason for her to get up yet with only four or so hours of sleep under her belt. But the sky was beginning to lighten and a crackle of cockatoos in a nearby tree decided to chorus a morning aria. With a sigh she pushed back the covers and got out of bed—she was awake and suddenly in desperate need of tea.

  Taking her mug onto the deck at the back of the house, she sat down on the old wooden bench and blew across the tea. The sun hadn’t cleared the bush behind Wattle Cottage but the sky was already turning from pink to blue. The air was still warm as the mercury hadn’t dipped under twenty degrees all night.

  Henny closed her eyes for a moment as a breeze blew through the bush, up the garden and over her. It brought with it the scent of early morning and possibilities. She should be tired but she wasn’t, and the day was shaping up to be nothing less than beautiful so Henny decided that she’d make the most of it and go for a walk.

  After finishing her tea, she had a quick shower and threw her water bottle and a muesli bar into a backpack. Slinging it over her shoulder she headed up the track and towards Killop Res. After yesterday she thought it would be the last place she wanted to be, but perhaps with the mayor, the photographer and the bunting gone it would have returned to its usual peaceful state.

  She didn’t hurry as she walked along the track, stopping every now and again to pick a sprig of foliage or take a photo on her phone. As the path neared the abandoned quarry she thought of her mother, as she knew she always would, but today she didn’t linger and look down to the rough stones below imagining her mother’s last moments. Today the birds sang and a kookaburra laughed in the distance as if to urge her on.

  Henny wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking but it had been a while, and just to emphasise the point her stomach growled to remind her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Stopping for a moment, she dug the muesli bar out of her backpack, tore off the wrapper and took a bite. It may not be her usual bowl of muesli topped with a little yogurt and a handful of berries but it would have to do until she got back home.

  The track wound on ahead of her. Henny knew that the res wasn’t that far now, just over the rise. She had almost crested the bush-covered incline when she heard a noise. Stopping for a moment, she tilted her head and listened. It sounded like something was tearing through the undergrowth towards her. Henny tensed, frozen to the spot, before a brown shaggy dog crashed through the lilly pillies and golden wattles.

  ‘Dover?’ Henny said with relief as the dog barrelled into her, almost knocking her backwards. She took a second to recover from the shock as Dover whined and wove in and out around her feet.

  Henny squatted down. ‘Hey, boy, it’s okay,’ she said as she tried to give him a pat, but he whimpered and bounded back a couple of metres before running back to her again.

  A frown creased her forehead—something was wrong, she could sense it.

  ‘Is Harley okay?’ Henny asked as she stood up. ‘Come on, Dover, take me to Harley.’

  Whether the dog understood her or not she had no idea, but he ran ahead, pausing every now and again to make sure that she was following him. Henny hurried down the hill and past the barbecue area of Killop Res. The dog’s behaviour had intensified Henny’s concern, and the possibilities of what could have happened to Harley ran through her mind as she jogged down the hill. She glanced from side to side, looking around to see if Harley had perhaps fallen and hurt himself, but everything was quiet and still.

  Dover ran to the water’s edge and whined.

  A chill went up Henny’s spine and for a second she hesitated. Something was wrong, really wrong—she felt it in her bones. The dog looked back at her and barked. She knew she had to see what was out there in the res, but something deep inside her didn’t want to, because somehow on some level she already knew what she was going to find. She braced herself and finally looked across the mirror-smooth water and saw Harley Turner floating face down.

  Henny shrugged off her backpack as she pulled her feet out of her trainers before wading out into the res. Even though it was summer the water was cold, and eerily still. Diving in, Henny began to swim towards Harley. She hadn’t been in the water here since the accident and had vowed that night never to again, but ever since returning to Lawson’s Bend she’d been breaking promises one after another. She swam steadily on, realising that it was further than it looked from shore.

  Stopping for a moment, she came up for a breather—Harley was only a few metres ahead of her, almost in the exact spot where she remembered the old swimming platform had once stood. Another shiver ran up her spine; this was the last place she wanted to be. Henny took a deep breath. She was scared—scared that she was back in the water, scared that Harley was dead and terrified that maybe this time she wouldn’t make it back to shore. After another second’s hesitation she pushed down the almost crippling fear and swam over to Harley.

  ‘Please be alive, please be alive,’ she chanted to herself over and over again as she wrestled to turn him onto his back. After four attempts she managed to flip him. His green eyes stared unblinking into the summer sky, there was an unnatural paleness to his skin and a blue tinge to his lips. Henny grabbed him by his collar and
dragged him back towards the shore.

  ‘Come on, Harley, come back. Don’t do this to me. Come back, Dover needs you.’

  It was a hard slog to the shore and Henny began to think that she wasn’t going to make it; she was fit but it had been years since she’d swum any distance. For a mad second she thought that the water was trying to stop her getting out. Her friends’ faces flashed through her mind as she inched towards the shallows. They were all sitting on the platform in a group, laughing, happy, inviting her to join them—Harley was with them.

  Closing her eyes for a moment she did her best to dispel the image. She reached down within herself and gathered whatever determination she had left. With a grunt she renewed her efforts and didn’t stop kicking until she could feel the ground beneath her feet. She somehow dragged Harley out of the water while Dover jumped and barked on the water’s edge. There looked to be a wound on the side of his head; maybe he’d hit it on a rock as he’d fallen in. An accident would be better than . . . well, she hoped he hadn’t planned to kill himself.

  Henny pulled open Harley’s shirt and started CPR. She didn’t know how long he’d been in the water and told herself that he was so cold because of the temperature in the res. Deep down she was pretty sure it was too late, but she kept trying and prayed that it would be like in the movies, when you think the person is gone and then, boom—resuscitated.

  Her vision blurred as hot tears gathered in her eyes and fell continuously down her cheeks. ‘Come on, Harley, you’ve got to try. Please . . . please don’t go,’ Henny begged. ‘Come back.’

  There was no change and finally Henny closed Harley’s eyes and reached for her phone to call 000.

  Henny and Dover huddled together as they looked out across the water and waited for help to come.

  ***

  Within half an hour the bank of Killop Reservoir was once again filled with people, police cars and an ambulance. It was a too-familiar sight for Henny as she sat on a bench near the barbecue area, watching as people dashed back and forth. One of the ambulance guys had draped a blanket over her shoulders and Dover was leaning against her leg. The day was getting warmer but Henny was cold, whether it was her still-wet clothes or the act of pulling Harley from the res that made her tremble.