Page 9 of Road to Rosalee

And without her mother by her side, it was going to be almost impossible to put herself back together.

* * *

‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust …’ The priest’s words sounded as if they were being said beneath water.

It was an offensively sunny day – stormy weather would have suited the sombre occasion much better. The funeral was a small affair, just how her mother had wanted it to be. Standing at the graveside, Melody stared into the dark oblivion that would be Lucy Harrison’s final resting place. Aunt Sally stood beside her, holding her hand so tightly, she was essentially holding her up. The casket began to sink so slowly, lower and lower, taking with it the roses they’d all placed upon it, and taking her mother further away. Then, hearing her aunt’s heartfelt sobs, she dared a look at her grief-stricken face, the shadows of pain in her eyes mimicking her own. They’d both lost the person most precious to them, and now the hard road was about to begin. They no longer needed to be strong for her mum’s sake and now, both of them were breaking. Needing to look anywhere else, Melody took her gaze to the bright blue sky, the few listless clouds. With the sun on her face, she imagined climbing aboard one of the cottony puffs, and floating away to a place where her heart no longer ached; to a place where her mother was still alive.

With Antonio clearing his throat, she looked to where he and his mother stood on her other side. His fingers were also entwined with hers, but unlike her aunt’s touch, she didn’t gain any comfort from his. He wasn’t crying, but Marianna was shedding enough tears for the both of them. A tissue to her eyes, she tried to offer Melody a comforting glance. Melody was too numb to know how to receive it. Nor did she feel a thing for this man standing beside her, the very one she’d imagined her whole life revolved around only a month ago. Right then and there, she knew she couldn’t stay here, pretending to be something she wasn’t, surviving one day to the next.

She needed a break from her tumultuous life with Antonio, to work out if he was the one she wanted to call her husband. Or not.

And she needed to know who her father was. She needed to stand in front of this Matthew Walsh and tell him to his face that she was his daughter. She needed to see, either way, if he wanted her in his life.

First, though, she would give herself some time to truly grieve. Then, one step at a time, the rest would follow.

Back at the house, the onslaught of unwanted hugs began, given by women who meant well but who would never fill the gaping hole her mother’s death had left. Melody slipped away from the small huddle of mourners, then outside. Magic followed her. As if on autopilot, she kicked off her shoes, padded down the steps, walked across the back lawn, and sank into the swing chair suspended beneath the big old oak tree. Magic settled himself not far from her. With a little shove, she started swinging, her feet brushing against the ground. To and fro, to and fro, the squeak of the chains strangely comforting. This had been her mother’s favourite spot before the cancer had left her bedridden. In the early stages of the melanoma, they’d welcomed quite a few days out here, cuppa in hand, both of them hopeful for a full recovery, and then at night, in this very spot, side by side, staring at the stars and making wishes upon any that would shoot through the blackness. A fat lot of good all that wishing, hoping and praying had done. The world sucked, and so did hope and dreams and optimism.

Closing her eyes, Melody grabbed hold of the chains and tipped her head backwards, so she was hanging. Her head woozy from the rush of blood, she watched the sky come closer and then fade, the tempo of it soothing. She allowed it to carry her back in time, to the Blue Mountains, where her mother’s spirit had been alive and so very free.

‘I love you, Mum,’ she whispered, looking to the heavens. ‘And just so you know, I’m going to find my dad and make things right.’

Chapter

4

It was the very first day of winter in Australia and as the weather was growing colder, so was Melody’s heart. She didn’t want to feel so closed, so cut off, but for so long she’d had to contain her emotions to be able to function and sadly, that meant shutting off her usually passionate nature. She’d gone from living on a high before her mother’s diagnosis to surviving through a constant low since her death. Her world wasn’t what it used to be. Even her cooking had been lacking her love. So she’d made the tough decision to have a break from working at Café Amore, and from everything else in Sydney. Leaving Magic behind had been hard but it wouldn’t be for too long. Besides, she knew her Aunt Sally would spoil her feline mate rotten.

Looking to the sea of clouds outside her plane window, she found it hard to believe it had been almost two months since her mother had passed. For the first few traumatic days after the funeral, she’d thought about her body, buried beneath the earth, and cried enough tears to fill the ocean. She hadn’t been able to sleep or eat, or even think.

Then she’d learnt that life was going to go on regardless. And her grief had mixed with fear and anger, and time had blurred from one day into the other, the next week into the following, and she’d done all she could to immerse herself back into her life, maybe a little too quickly. The routine had given her some kind of strange purpose, a reason to get out of bed every morning, but had she given herself enough time to grieve? Was there ever enough time for such a thing? Or was it like her Aunt Sally said, that eventually she would just learn to live with the permanent hole her mother’s untimely death had left in her aching heart?

Then there was the matter of Antonio and their rocky relationship. He’d been understanding of her meltdowns and detachment at first but had lately become impatient and snappy. And so had she. He’d even had the gall to complain that his primal needs weren’t being met, and that making love to him would make her feel better. Yeah, right. It was all about him, as always. Sex was the last thing on her mind. He’d appeared shocked two weeks ago when she’d told him she was going away for a little while, to meet her biological father and to get her head straight – but she also detected that he was relieved too. Maybe he was beginning to see what she already knew – they weren’t meant to be together. Maybe there was more to it and he was starting to think more about the buxom blonde she’d caught him kissing? The massive mistake she’d somehow forgiven him for but hadn’t forgotten.

Marianna had been supportive of her extended leave, encouraging her to take all the time she needed. It gave her comfort to know her beloved café was in good hands, with Marianna at the helm and the new chef Melody had handpicked manning the kitchen.

One foot in front of the other, she was going to do her best to find some stable ground so she could make smart decisions, not emotionally messy ones. For now, it was all in the hands of fate, or god, or the universe … whichever one it may be. Or maybe it was all three?

Plucking her iPhone from the seat pocket in front of her, she left it on aeroplane mode and went to the screenshots she’d taken of Facebook and LinkedIn. It had taken her all of half an hour to find all she needed to know for now about her father. Matthew Walsh was married to a lady named Sarah and they owned a property in Mareeba called Diamond and Dust Stud, where he bred and trained bucking bulls and held bi-annual bull-riding schools. Their place was picturesque. Sarah was very pretty, Matthew was very handsome, and their little boy, Beau, was adorable – the perfect little family with a seemingly perfect life. And here she was about to possibly upend it. But what was she meant to do? It wasn’t like she could keep this to herself and move on, especially now her mum was gone. She wanted to meet her father, to get a sense of who he was so she could get more of a sense of who she really was. Maybe that was the solid foundation she’d been searching for her whole life.

She sighed. There were so many maybes in her life right now …

A high-pitched squeak was followed by a flight attendant’s nasal voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to make our descent into Cairns, so can you please bring your seats to the upright position, secure your tray, slide your window shades up and make sure your seatbelts are secured. We will be arriving to a beautifully sunny day, with a temperature of twenty-six degrees, so if you are visiting, have a wonderful holiday, and if you are returning, welcome home.’

Melody pondered this as she got ready for landing. Was she holidaying, or arriving home? Her heart suddenly raced as she deliberated what she was about to do. Arriving here unannounced was a ballsy move, but she didn’t want to risk contacting her father only to have him hang up on her, or ignore an email or message, or deny what she was telling him. She needed to put him on the spot and to see his face when she did. After what Antonio had put her through, she was having a hard time trusting people.

The window shades being lifted, sunlight flooded the cabin. Trying to calm her nerves, she pressed her face up against the oval peephole to a totally different world, watching in awe as it tilted beneath. She’d never been this far north and she didn’t know what to expect. A lush green rainforest canopy met deserted palm-lined white-sand beaches with only a handful of mini high-rises, all of it surrounded by a sparkling aqua-green ocean. Aunt Sally had warned her of the crocs up here, so there was no way in hell she was putting a toe in any of that water. Suddenly, rows of houses were whipping past, so close she was surprised the aircraft’s hull wasn’t thumping the tall antennas. She imagined people in thongs, shorts and sundresses enjoying beers and barbeques in the big backyards, some with pools, some without. Then the city was upon them, the chequerboard of blocks neat and tidy, the roads virtually empty compared to Sydney traffic. The wheels dropped and skidded as they hit the tarmac at windforce speed. Her teeth almost rattled as they thundered to a halt. The flight attendants firmly reminded those already standing to remain seated with their seatbelts buckled. Some people had no patience – it wasn’t like they were going to get to the terminal any quicker.

Looking to her folded hands, Melody finally did what she’d thought about the past four months and slipped her wedding ring off. She really didn’t want to explain her messy love life to every Tom, Dick and Harry – nobody here needed to know she was a married woman. Unzipping the little compartment inside her handbag, she popped it in for safekeeping and zipped it back up. Looking to her oddly bare finger, she rubbed where the ring had been for the past four years. It was freeing, like she was already embracing a newer part of herself – a noteworthy sensation.

The vibe of the domestic airport was as relaxed as the laid-back people wandering about. It took Melody all of an hour to grab her suitcase, pick up her rental car, and start heading up the winding Kuranda Range towards Mareeba. The temperature had already dropped a couple of degrees, though the tropical scenery accompanied her on her hour’s drive west. From sugar-cane fields to cascading walls of tree ferns to rows of mango trees to paddocks dotted with healthy-looking livestock – all of it did something extraordinary to her weary soul. It was as if she could finally take a deeply satisfying breath and let go, if only for the drive. At some points, the Skyrail Cableway soared above her, the gondolas taking tourists from Cairns up to the hippie-style village of Kuranda. The passengers must have had an eagle-eyed view over the mountains and all the way out to the glimmer of the Great Barrier Reef.

A sign caught her eye: Welcome to Mareeba 300 sunny days a year … a great place to live! What a treat that would be, she thought.

Suburban cars began to become few and far between and dusty four-wheel drives and bumper-stickered utes became the norm. The Mareeba township was a little bigger than she’d expected, with almost everything anyone would want for – butchers, pubs, bakers, beauticians, hairdressers, clothing stores, and loads of different food outlets, along with a massive Coles and IGA, and that was just the shops she noticed. She also couldn’t help but notice how manly the men looked in their wide-brimmed hats, fitted jeans and boots. There was just something about a country bloke that got her libido all fired up – a man who knew how to fix things, wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and had a physique to match the hours spent labouring the land. Very different to the majority of men back in Sydney, where suits and clean hands prevailed.

As she left the hustle of the main street and headed past the cemetery then Mareeba Rodeo Grounds, the voice from Google Maps alerted her to the fact that she was almost there. Fear walloped her fair and square in the chest and she almost hit the brakes. But it was now or never – and she’d come this far. She’d coped with way worse, losing her mum – she had this. She heard her mother’s voice in her head. One step at a time, my Sweet Melody.

Indicating right, she turned down Brookes Road. Rows of fruit trees appeared, all huddled beneath an endless stretch of white nets. It all looked familiar thanks to her time spent perusing her father’s business’s Facebook page. She slowed as she passed a two-storey weatherboard Queenslander, recalling a photo of her dad and his family on Christmas Day, standing out the front of it. An ornamental windmill circled among blooming rose bushes and a sign hung from the front fence: Clarkes’ Farm. From what she and Aunt Sally had worked out over countless nights spent at the laptop with countless glasses of wine, her dad and Sarah’s place was a little up the road from here. She reminded herself to keep breathing as she headed up the road. She could do this.