More Than A Journey Home

Chapter Four - Fourth Discovery

Turning right and starting down the main drag, it hits Mason that it is also fifteen years since he last visited the township of Glenville. The sight of him striding down the familiar streets was sure to garner attention he did not really want to attract at this point. Perhaps he should have just driven over to Bryce’s for something to eat. When he walked away all those years ago, he didn’t just leave his parents behind. He left the only life he had ever known, and friends he had cherished since he was in preschool. Friends he had played with, fought with, bled with and shared every heartbreak with. The mates who had had his back throughout the years in good times and bad. The same back he then turned on them and never even looked over his shoulder. He left no explanation, no apologies, and made no further contact. They’d no idea he was even contemplating leaving. He had kept his plans close to his chest. Mason had managed to keep his father's temper and their volatile relationship from his friends. They never knew how explosive Thomas could be. His temper could flare in a split second, and anyone in his way could become the target of that temper. Mason would meet up with the guys in town or hang out at their respective properties, and rarely would he let them come home to CoalBriar. He had needed a clean break to move on. To leave everything behind in his review mirror. He cut ties with anyone that might call him back. Mason knew everyone would have tried to change his mind. To stay and take on his family responsibilities and to lean on them while he did it. If anyone could change his mind, it was his mates. He just couldn’t have let that happen.

The drive into town is the same as it has always been. Endless red dirt as far as the eye can see, heavily coats everything in its path. Trees line the sides of the road, some dead from lack of rain, others marked by a recent back burn. Tufts of brown dead grass and Bathurst burrs that can slice you open as easily as a surgeon’s knife complete the picture. And of course, there is always the chance that a kangaroo can come bounding out of the sidelines with little to no warning and no intention or chance of stopping. If the stars align for you at this time, the roo will not collide with your vehicle, taking you and itself out. But considering they are not the most road savvy of animals, this is unlikely. You may find yourself stranded with a smashed windscreen or crumpled front bonnet, damage to the engine or worse. Most often it would be one injured car and one dead roo lying on the road, along with many others of its kind who missed the road rule lesson at the school of native animals.

Thirty minutes later, and no roos to be seen, Mason spots the welcome sign to Glenville up ahead, looking much worse for wear, faded and standing on a rather dramatic lean with some lettering missing. Dotted with bullet holes from target practice by many a youth out for a bit of fun, Mason wonders what condition it will need to be in before the town replaces it.
Thankfully, the bridge leading into town seems to still be standing strong and straight. As he makes his way across, he notices the dryness of the creek bed below, indicating it has been some time since a decent rainfall has blessed the area.

Glenville is not what you would call a hip and happening town. Mason takes in the familiar sights with memories immediately flooding into his mind. The local pool is one of the first things he notices and that there has been the addition of an artesian spa and cafe. “Who on earth would take advantage of an artesian spa out here?” Mason wonders having a bit of a chuckle. The answer however, quickly becomes obvious when he notices what appears to be a brand new caravan park designed for the weary traveller to pull in for a night or two and enjoy the hospitality of Glenview and all it has to offer. Further on, is all the basics and not much more than that. Four pubs all converge along the main street. You will find a bakery and newsagents, owned and handed down through the generations of the Abbot family. A Mitre 10 hardware, butcher, Post Office, General Store, Fruit Barn and of course the Chemist, attached to the local doctors surgery. The school, consists of both primary and secondary years and is along the road a bit further into town.Opposite the school, is the local park and hospital, which back onto the local rail line. Crossing the rail line brings you to the residential area of the town where the locals live in their homes of many shapes, sizes, most boasting generously sized yards housing an assortment of animals. Huge Bottle Trees, always a talking feature among the tourists to these parts, are dotted not only along Main Street but all over Glenville. Their beauty and originality, not to mention their ever expanding wastelines, are something the townsfolk are proud of and will be found gracing many a Glenville postcard.
Reversing into one of the parking spots along Main street, Mason already sees some of the locals looking hard at his father’s Patrol as it comes to rest and quiets at the turn of the ignition key. “Well, that didn’t take long”, Mason thinks, “and what will take even less time now will be word spreading like wildfire that the recalcitrant child of Thomas and Beth CoalBriar has returned home”. Running his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath, Mason steps down from the car and quickly turns his attention to the grocery store. “Get in, get what I need and get out” runs through his head like a mantra. Stepping into the relative cool, Mason grabs the first trolley he sees and starts for the furthest aisle from the register. Not finding anyone else in the store so far, his shoulders relax slightly, and he starts scanning the shelves for the items and food he needs. As he doesn’t plan on staying long, the list in his head is short and should have him out and back in the car in under fifteen minutes max.Not caring about cost of items, the trolley becomes layered fairly quickly, and the few shoppers that have entered the store do not seem familiar.

Loading the final necessities into the trolley and starting for the register, Mason catches a voice he never thought he would hear again, setting his heart to beating like a caged bird trapped inside, desperate to become free. Surely it couldn’t be. “Mason!!, the call is soft like a butterfly’s wings, wrapped with warmth but with a touch of urgency and underlying firmness. Oh my God, Mason!” Flying towards him without pause is a vision of pure light and joy. Perfectly poured into a pair of figure hugging jeans, a pink checkered long-sleeved shirt tucked in at the waist, soft honey coloured hair tied in a ponytail with tendrils cupping her face having come free from its restraint, and cowboy boots thudding along the Lino floor, this whirling dervish launches herself at Mason, knocking him back a step or two and hugs him so tightly he thinks she is going to break a rib.

Lavender Marshall. Lavvy. The only person Mason allows himself to think of now and then over the past fifteen years. Not that he really has a choice. That voice would call to him through the depths of sleep. That face would appear in front of him through the crowds on the city streets, and her scent would fill his nose at any random time, like a ghost from the past. He can feel her heart beating in time with his as her hold on him intensifies. He is about to pass out from the lack of oxygen. “Lavvy, you need to let me go,” Mason struggles to get free. “Lavvy, can you hear me?” Lavender unwinds her arms from around his waist and stares up into his face with her gorgeous emerald eyes that cup tears ready to fall wet upon her cheeks. They stare at each other for a moment or two, both caught up in emotion and memories. Without warning, Lavender steps slightly back with one foot, raises her arm and lets fly with a perfect right hook to the edge of Mason’s jaw, leaving him stunned and slightly hurt. “Crap”, says Lavender, holding and shaking her hand, flexing her fingers. “Are you alright?” Mason asks, stepping forward and reaching out to take Lavender’s hand in his for a look. “Do I look ok to you, you tall piece of break my heart and never look back arse?” Pulling her hand out of Mason’s, Lavender once again flings her arms around his neck this time, and sobs softly while whispering, “I’m so so sorry about your parents, May, so very sorry. It’s just awful what happened. Are you ok? What can I do?” “I’m alright Lavvy Mason replies, holding her close for just a moment longer before reaching up to grab her hands. He snatches up a packet of frozen peas from the trolley and passes them to Lavender with a small smile on his face. “Here, put this on your hand, you idiot, before it begins to swell”

Glancing over Lavender’s shoulder, Mason notes that a small crowd has gathered at the end of the aisle watching and listening to everything that is going on. ‘Did it hurt?’ asks Lavender ‘It better have hurt’ “It’s smarting like a bitch. Now can we move on so I can pay for these things and get out of here? We have an audience” Mason starts forward slowly, encouraging Lavender along with the end of the trolley. “There’s nothing to see here”, Lavender says to the group standing and waiting for the couple to get closer. “We’re sorry to hear about your parents, Mason”, says Barry Barton, one of the local cattle farmers. We can’t imagine how you must be feeling. There’s a small murmur and nods of sympathy from the others as Mason places his groceries onto the counter for payment. “He appreciates it”, answers Lavender, and Mason nods his head in agreement towards the sympathetic crowd. He leans over and grabs the peas out of Lavender's hands and says to the girl behind the register, “And these”, which she promptly scans and returns. Mason shoves them at Lavender again with a scowl. Paying and repacking the trolley, they head out to the Patrol and to what Mason hopes is escape.
Outside, he realizes a quick getaway will be more difficult than he thought. “Welcome home, Mason;, Good to see you home son, Pity you weren’t around for your parents, they may still be here, and, When’s the funeral going to be so we can pay our respects?” are just some comments he overhears as he loads shopping bag after shopping bag into the back seat of the Nissan. “Give him some space, guys”, he hears Lavender say. The funeral. What funeral? Has there not been a funeral? Mason’s mind races as he reaches over once again to take the peas from Lavender and throws them haphazardly on top of a bag. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get going” Lavender climbs into the passenger seat of the Patrol and Mason, not knowing what is going on, hops in behind the wheel. With the start of the engine, he nods to the people lining the footpath and takes off out of Main street away from the increasing crowd and more questions. He points the patrol towards the school grounds, not really sure why, but once around the corner and out of sight, he finds a secluded area outside of the secondary fields and pulls over to the kerb, keeping the engine idling.

“We can head to the petrol station just outside of town and have a coffee”, Lavender says. She turns to face Mason, noticing the hard set to his jaw and eyes staring straight ahead. “There hasn't been a funeral, is that what they said back there? My parents are still, what, in the hospital morgue or something?” “It’s only been just over a week”, says Lavender, hoping he will turn to look at her, “it’s not a big deal, we can arrange one pretty quickly now you are back”. “I’m not back; I’m just here to clean up this mess, and then I’ll be gone” Mason’s tone is rough with emotion. “I didn’t even think about a funeral.” “I need to get back to the farm; can I drop you somewhere?” he asks, still not looking at her. Looking at Lavender now would be his undoing. “No, that’s ok. My ute is parked on Main Street. I can walk back to it from here” Lavender’s voice is soft and sad. She reaches over and places her hand on Mason’s arm, rigid at the steering wheel. “I can come out to the farm later if you like? Help you with funeral arrangements and things”, she says.Mason glances down quickly at the hand upon his arm and clocks what appears to be a wedding band and a small diamond engagement ring. Surprised and feeling like he’s just been sucker punched in the stomach, Mason’s response is curt. “No thanks Lavender, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need help. I really need to get going before my food spoils in the back there” Fighting back tears, Lavender removes her hand from his arm then slowly reaches up to brush it down the side of his cheek. Her touch is as light as a feather, and then, just like that, she is gone from the car with a soft latch of the door. As Mason looks out the side-view mirror, he can see her walking quickly away, reaching up now and then to wipe at her face.

What he was hoping was going to be a quick spin through the shop for supplies became a reunion, which was brief and unexpected. Filled with so many emotions, it almost floored him. The town has turned out in force to see the prodigal son return. The shock of having to organise a funeral and, even more shocking, a wedding band upon the finger of the woman he’s always loved, is more than Mason can deal with right now. With tyres spinning, spitting loose gravel in its wake, Mason turns the Nissan Patrol in a sharp U-turn and speeds out of town. He catches a fleeting glimpse of Lavender sitting at the wheel of her ute; her face white and tears coursing down her cheeks.