Is To Believe in Tomorrow
Deb’s face falls when she reads it. I imagine her hammering that nail in with grim determination, tugging at the sign until it hangs straight. Then she steps back, nods once, thinking,Yes, this will help her.
It didn’t.
She straightens her spine, twists the door handle, steps inside. It’s a country bedroom, a cherrywood rocking chair in the corner, a crocheted blanket folded neatly at the foot of a brass bed. It smells like dead wattle in here.
Deb reaches tenderly for a sage-green pillow with a ruffled fringe. “She moved back in after she left her husband. They were getting adivorce. It was supposed to be a new beginning for her.” She smooths the pillow with her palm. “Stupid of me.”
I stand in the center of the room, eyes on the single bed. “I’m sorry.” A painted mason jar sits sadly on the bedside table, stuffed with drooping wattle. “What did Rachel do for work?”
“Store manager at Kmart,” she says automatically. “Was, anyway. She resigned after her marriage fell apart. Though to be clear, the marriage had been falling apart for years.”
“Why?”
She pauses, anchoring her attention to the rocking chair. “…I’m not making excuses for her. But she really did need help, and she never got it. And Iknowshe tried. I took her myself.” She shakes her head, gaze darkening. “Doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, you name it. They put her on every drug known to man. Nothing helped.”
“Helped what?”
“Her violence.”
I nod, wait.
“She said she felt it…stirring in her blood. Her father was the same.”
You can hear it, too, Min, can’t you? The ocean? Calling and calling?
I rub my forehead, mumbling, “Tell me about her husband.”
“He wasn’t a saint, either,” she adds, eyebrow slanted in disapproval. “Couldn’t keep his penis in his pants. And when Rachel caught him…” She lowers her head. “It was just bad, you know? All of it.”
“Was he from Kangaroo Bay?”
“Sydney.” She places the pillow back. “After they split, she moved back in with us. She barely got out of bed for a year. But in the last few months she was getting out more. Making long-term plans.” She shrugs helplessly. “We felt she was getting better.”
To Plant a Garden
Is To Believe in Tomorrow
So what made Rachel start believing in tomorrow? “What was she doing for money?”
The question hangs in the air.
Something bad.
I turn to Deb, who looks away. “Something illegal?”
“She was on government benefits,” she finally mutters. “Just ’til she got on her feet.”
“Divorces are expensive. All those lawyer fees,” I prompt. “Was she worried about money?”
“…Little bit.”
“But she had the cash to keep traveling to Kangaroo Bay.”
Silence.
“What was the purpose of the trips?”
