to hear. ‘But she likes to read aloud and I reckon she’s damn good at it.’
Cal nodded. ‘She’s so cute.’
Ethan nudged Dean in the ribs and grinned. ‘Hey, listen to this.’ He raised his voice. ‘Neenz!’
‘Yeah?’
‘Lookin’ good!’
She fingered her jewels and preened. ‘I’m beautiful!’
‘And modest.’
‘I’m beautiful and modest!’
‘And what am I?’
‘Gross torrent!’
The men howled with laughter, and for just a moment, the pain – both physical and mental – fled from their bodies.
Five
They came by the carload. They came bumping along in the back of utes, eskys between their knees, folding chairs underfoot. Dozens of families, at least twenty of the local business owners and most of the young ones from Rowan and Nina’s primary school.
Some had thought to bring their portable barbeques, and these had been set up around the towering log pile that would soon light up the night sky. The smell of cooking meat and onions was mouth-watering. Hinterdown’s part-time football coach tipped a large container of sliced potatoes onto his grill amidst groans of appreciation.
Those without families came with beer and swags. None were planning on driving home tonight. The baker had brought all the bread he hadn’t sold. He stood with Sal and another woman Ethan didn’t know, buttering rolls and swapping stories.
They paused when Nina approached noisily, still wearing her mother’s jewellery. Everyone knew the necklaces belonged to Bree, it hadn’t needed to be said. Nina tilted her chin imperiously and pointed to the butter.
‘Ethan’s gross torrent!’
Ethan grinned. The kid was going to be the death of him. His heart was going to burst with love, he just knew it. He watched her supervise the setting aside of two breadrolls, then cast his eyes over the crowd, looking for the rest of his family.
Rowan was chasing his friends around the yard, reanimated and talking a mile a minute again. Dean was standing a little apart from a group gathered around a barbeque, fussing with the label on his beer, tearing it with his thumbnail. He was the new widower. It was a title he wouldn’t be able to shake for a long time yet. He missed Bree, Ethan could see that, ached for her even. But he was holding himself together. He was being strong for the kids. Keeping what was left of his life in order. Ethan idolised the man. Dean was everything Ethan wished he could be himself – brave, loyal, dependable and solid. When the going got tough, Dean got going. He was an everyday hero. A role model.
And it shamed Ethan that Dean was a little soiled by his relation to him.
He wanted to be a better man for his brother, but there was too much Ray Foster in Ethan. Some would say that wasn’t a bad thing. But Ethan knew better.
As he always did, Ethan searched for Sammy in the crowd. He found her sitting on a collapsible chair, holding a soft drink between her knees, laughing at something the man at her side was saying. She wore jeans in anticipation of the cooler night and there was a light jacket at her feet. The orange shirt she wore licked over her subtle curves. It wasn’t sexy in the conventional sense, but it offered a dramatic contrast to her black hair and made her tan appear darker. She wore a small gold chain about her wrist that he recognised, and something akin to hope bloomed in his chest.
He made his way towards her. He wasn’t intercepted. No one had anything to say to the hopeless runaway.
To Sammy’s and the man’s surprise, Ethan pulled up an empty chair and joined them without invitation. What was an invitation among friends, after all?
‘Uh . . . Carl, this is Ethan.’
Carl extended a hand and Ethan shook it. Carl glanced at Sammy, clearly gauging her response to the newcomer, and Ethan liked him for it.
Carl said, ‘I’m going to get a beer. Want anything?’
Sammy shook her head. Ethan held up a hand, indicating that he was fine, too.
‘You all right with
Cal nodded. ‘She’s so cute.’
Ethan nudged Dean in the ribs and grinned. ‘Hey, listen to this.’ He raised his voice. ‘Neenz!’
‘Yeah?’
‘Lookin’ good!’
She fingered her jewels and preened. ‘I’m beautiful!’
‘And modest.’
‘I’m beautiful and modest!’
‘And what am I?’
‘Gross torrent!’
The men howled with laughter, and for just a moment, the pain – both physical and mental – fled from their bodies.
Five
They came by the carload. They came bumping along in the back of utes, eskys between their knees, folding chairs underfoot. Dozens of families, at least twenty of the local business owners and most of the young ones from Rowan and Nina’s primary school.
Some had thought to bring their portable barbeques, and these had been set up around the towering log pile that would soon light up the night sky. The smell of cooking meat and onions was mouth-watering. Hinterdown’s part-time football coach tipped a large container of sliced potatoes onto his grill amidst groans of appreciation.
Those without families came with beer and swags. None were planning on driving home tonight. The baker had brought all the bread he hadn’t sold. He stood with Sal and another woman Ethan didn’t know, buttering rolls and swapping stories.
They paused when Nina approached noisily, still wearing her mother’s jewellery. Everyone knew the necklaces belonged to Bree, it hadn’t needed to be said. Nina tilted her chin imperiously and pointed to the butter.
‘Ethan’s gross torrent!’
Ethan grinned. The kid was going to be the death of him. His heart was going to burst with love, he just knew it. He watched her supervise the setting aside of two breadrolls, then cast his eyes over the crowd, looking for the rest of his family.
Rowan was chasing his friends around the yard, reanimated and talking a mile a minute again. Dean was standing a little apart from a group gathered around a barbeque, fussing with the label on his beer, tearing it with his thumbnail. He was the new widower. It was a title he wouldn’t be able to shake for a long time yet. He missed Bree, Ethan could see that, ached for her even. But he was holding himself together. He was being strong for the kids. Keeping what was left of his life in order. Ethan idolised the man. Dean was everything Ethan wished he could be himself – brave, loyal, dependable and solid. When the going got tough, Dean got going. He was an everyday hero. A role model.
And it shamed Ethan that Dean was a little soiled by his relation to him.
He wanted to be a better man for his brother, but there was too much Ray Foster in Ethan. Some would say that wasn’t a bad thing. But Ethan knew better.
As he always did, Ethan searched for Sammy in the crowd. He found her sitting on a collapsible chair, holding a soft drink between her knees, laughing at something the man at her side was saying. She wore jeans in anticipation of the cooler night and there was a light jacket at her feet. The orange shirt she wore licked over her subtle curves. It wasn’t sexy in the conventional sense, but it offered a dramatic contrast to her black hair and made her tan appear darker. She wore a small gold chain about her wrist that he recognised, and something akin to hope bloomed in his chest.
He made his way towards her. He wasn’t intercepted. No one had anything to say to the hopeless runaway.
To Sammy’s and the man’s surprise, Ethan pulled up an empty chair and joined them without invitation. What was an invitation among friends, after all?
‘Uh . . . Carl, this is Ethan.’
Carl extended a hand and Ethan shook it. Carl glanced at Sammy, clearly gauging her response to the newcomer, and Ethan liked him for it.
Carl said, ‘I’m going to get a beer. Want anything?’
Sammy shook her head. Ethan held up a hand, indicating that he was fine, too.
‘You all right with
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