“Back in Kiewarra?” Raco said. “Yeah, not too bad this time. Cooler summer, you know.”
“And, hey—” Rita put her glass down. “You heard the river’s running again?”
“Yeah,” Falk said. “I did. That’s great.”
It was. Raco had emailed through some pictures. The locals had lined the banks in the rain to watch as the water had finally forged its way through for the first time in years. Even in the still images, Falk could sense their joy and relief.
You should see it, Raco had written. Beautiful sight.
I should, Falk had replied, both of them knowing that he probably wouldn’t. Not now, at least, but maybe—he thought—one day.
Things had changed a bit in Kiewarra in the last few years. His friends Barb and Gerry Hadler had sold up—their own house, their son’s farm—and moved along the Great Ocean Road. Granddaughter Charlotte was learning to bodyboard. Falk had been to visit them four or five times, and Barb Hadler regularly texted him blurry photos of birds on their porch and the sun over the waves.
A nice bloke from Gippsland called Paul had bought the farm from them, plus the Deacon property next door, looking to roll up his sleeves and make a go of things. He had succeeded, apparently, in both a professional and personal sense. On his second night in town, he’d gone to The Fleece for a drink and spotted a tall blond woman sipping a white wine and making friendly conversation with the wild redheaded barman. Paul had asked if he could buy her next glass, and a few months ago they’d got married in the local church.
“Gretchen sends her best, by the way,” Rita said, reading Falk’s mind.
“How was her wedding?”
“Yeah, good, you know. Small.” Raco glanced at his wife, who was watching Falk over the rim of her glass with a look he couldn’t interpret. “Very small, really, mainly immediate family, couple of locals. How many, Rita?”
“A few,” she said simply.
“Just a few,” echoed Raco, and Falk had to smile.
“It’s really okay, mate, I didn’t expect an invite.”
Gretchen had called to tell him, though. They’d chatted for a while, catching up. It had been nice. She had, in fact, implied that an extra spot could probably be found for an old friend, should he want it, but Falk could tell they were both relieved when he didn’t take her up on the offer. He’d wished her the best and truly meant it. She’d done the same, and he knew her well enough to know she’d meant it, too.
“Her bloke all right?” he said now.
“Paul? Yeah, seems it.”
“Really good with Lachie.” Rita looked over her shoulder as the back door opened and Charlie stepped out, a bottle under his arm and glasses in his hands. “The kid can’t get enough of him. Always tearing around together.”
“Good,” Falk said. And it was good. He accepted the glass Charlie was offering him. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” Charlie opened the bottle of red and poured, then lowered himself into a chair with a heavy sigh. He had a large book wedged under his arm and pulled it out now and passed it to Raco. “Zara got it from here, by the way. That photo with Rita you were asking about?”
“Oh yeah?” Raco reached out with his free hand and opened the book on the table.
Falk could see it was in fact a thick album with photos printed onto the pages.
“Zara had it made up last year,” Charlie said. “Went through all the photos in the house, all the pics on the computers. Found everything she could of Kim and put it all together. I think she was planning to give it to Zoe, but ended up keeping it.” He swirled his drink, then took a long swallow. “I guess she can always print another copy.”
“What’s this about?” Rita asked, leaning over to see.
“Zara did a slideshow at the appeal,” Raco said, flipping through the pages. “You were in it, a few others, too. I hadn’t seen that photo before. Was just curious where it’d come from.”
He found the page he’d been looking for and turned it so Rita could see.
“Yeah, I remember that visit. Kim and Rohan had gotten married not long before. That was a nice week.” Rita turned another couple of pages, Kim’s face appearing again and again, before gently closing the cover.
“Can I—？” Falk asked, and Rita passed it to him.
The photos were in rough chronological order. Kim as a baby smiled out from the opening page, followed by missing teeth and Santa visits and a first day at school. Falk flipped forward, then stopped because suddenly there was Charlie. He was sitting on a wall with Kim. Their faces were unlined and their hands were flat on the brickwork, fingertips touching.
“Did tonight go like you wanted, Charlie?” Rita asked gently.
“Well, what I really wanted was to help Zara.” He took another deep swallow and considered. “So, as far as that goes, I’m not sure.”
“Give it time to settle,” Raco said. “See how she feels in a few days. I think it was still worth doing.”
“Hopefully.” Charlie rubbed his eyes. “I suppose we were lucky Gemma said yes to it at all. Some of the committee didn’t want to approve it, did I tell you?”
“The appeal?” Raco was whispering now as Henry stirred. He rose delicately and began to pace a slow circuit up and down the veranda.
“Felt it was too much of a downer for the opening night. I can see their point, to be honest.” Charlie stifled a yawn and glanced at Rita. “Oh, I caught her on the way out to say thanks, and she said hi, by the way.”
“Gemma?” Rita said.
“Yeah. And to you, mate.” He nodded at Falk, then leaned back and closed his eyes. “Said you guys met once a while back? In Melbourne or something.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Falk tried to keep his voice casual. “That’s right.”
Raco, still pacing, didn’t seem to notice, but Rita certainly did, her interest instantly piqued. Honestly, the woman had the instincts of a bloodhound when it came to any hint of activity in Falk’s largely dormant love life. They eyeballed each other steadily across the table, and Falk suddenly had the strong sense that while Raco could barely remember him and Gemma crossing paths, this was not news to Rita. Finally, a tiny smile on her lips, she looked away, leaving Falk wondering what exactly she’d heard.
“Rohan and Shane didn’t want to come back for a drink?” Rita returned her attention to Charlie, who opened his eyes.
“No. Shane said he’d stick around at the stall. And I guess Rohan needed to get back to Zoe.”
“What did he talk about at the appeal?”
“A few things,” Charlie said. “How he and Kim met—”
As they chatted, Falk turned several more pages of the album. He was deep in high school territory now. Kim with her ponytail. Charlie’s hair was certainly a statement, although so was his younger brother’s, and Falk couldn’t stop himself flashing a grin at Raco. Raco was still rocking his son and laughed when he saw what Falk was looking at.
“Tread carefully, mate,” he whispered. “You’re one choice comment away from being invited to step into your car and drive yourself back to Melbourne.”