Page 30 of Wild Horses

As Tyler headed for Clare’s office, the gravity of his decision pushed down on him, a mixture of relief and profound disappointment. He found her at her desk grading papers. She smiled and gestured for him to sit.

‘I’ll be heading home tomorrow,’ said Tyler. ‘If that suits.’

Clare, seeming unsurprised, took the news of his leaving with her usual composure.

‘Our stomachs in particular will be sorry to see you go,’ she joked.

‘However, Vera starts work soon, and in the meantime we can fend for ourselves. Planning and cooking a daily menu could be part of the kids’ curriculum. ’

‘Sorry to leave you in the lurch.’

‘No apologies needed. You have a life back in Brisbane. And though I’m sure Leo has appreciated your time spent here with us, it might also be good for him to stand on his own two feet a bit more – without Dad around to cook him his favourite breakfasts!

Although I confess, I will miss your eggs Benedict.

Vera’s repertoire only stretches as far as fried or scrambled. ’

Samson put his big head in Tyler’s lap. Tyler stroked the dog’s soft black ears and attempted a smile. ‘Leo could give her a few tips. He’s an excellent cook. He has an instinct for it. Maybe it’s in the blood. I’ve always hoped that one day he’ll take over my restaurant.’

Clare twirled a pen between her fingers, looking thoughtful.

‘It’s only natural to want our children to follow in our footsteps to some degree.

But I’m reminded of a poem about children – I’m sure you know it.

’ She took a slim volume down from the shelf and turned to a bookmarked page. And then she read in a soft voice:

‘You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,

not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.’

Tyler knew the poem all too well due to a course he’d taken at university – ‘On Children’ from The Wisdom of Kahlil Gibran .

He’d always loved the poet’s work, and the quote spoke directly to him.

From the look of the well-thumbed poetry book, Tyler guessed he wasn’t the only parent to whom Clare had made this point.

‘You said it would be good for my son to stand on his own two feet a bit more.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Is that why you asked Christy to distance herself from Leo?’

‘Yes, it is.’

He needed to ask the question. ‘It wasn’t because Christy was fired for having a relationship with a student at her last school?’

Clare raised her brows. ‘Absolutely not. Who told you such a thing?’

‘Maggie Kent.’

She frowned. ‘Maggie shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Maybe so, but it’s true, right?’

‘That was an unsubstantiated allegation, one Christy has always denied. And she wasn’t fired, she resigned.

I’ve since been in touch with St Luke’s College, who’ve confirmed this.

’ Clare pushed her chair back and stood up.

‘For my money, Christy is guilty of nothing but being young and impulsive and caring too much for her students. I see her as a victim in all this, not a perpetrator. And I believe anyone who really knows Christy would agree with me.’ She walked stiffly to the door and opened it.

‘Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do. ’

Back in the kitchen, Tyler finished preparing the evening meal. Clare had strongly defended Christy. The possibility that he’d judged her too harshly, too quickly, troubled him.

However, Tyler’s mind churned with the old adage, Where there’s smoke, there’s fire . Could he afford to disregard his initial concerns, especially when it concerned the safety and well-being of his son? His protective instincts, once triggered, were not easily calmed.

‘And she should have told me,’ he said to himself, clinging to this point. Regardless of the truth of the allegations, Christy should have been upfront about what had happened at her last school.

Tyler stood over the stove, the rhythmic sizzle of the mushrooms in the rondeau providing a soothing, almost hypnotic soundtrack.

Cooking had always been his refuge, a way to clear his mind by focusing on the simple, tangible tasks of chopping, stirring, sautéeing – creating.

Tonight’s menu was a simple affair consisting of Leo’s favourites: garlic bread, beef stroganoff served with sweet potato mash or chips, followed by a no-bake lemon curd cheesecake.

It felt like a privilege to cook for his son at Currawong Creek this one last time.

As he adjusted the heat under the big pan, his phone rang, slicing through the quiet hum of the exhaust fan. Tyler wiped his hands and reached for it, not recognising the number on the screen. He hesitated before answering it.

The voice on the other end of the line was formal, official sounding. ‘Mr Tyler Ward? This is Detective Sergeant Hunter from the Queensland Police. I’m calling in relation to an ongoing investigation into the fire at the Club Kitchen on the night of fourteen October eleven years ago.’

Tyler felt sick. ‘Yes?’

‘I’d like to speak with you; however, I believe you’ve taken extended leave. Are you in Brisbane?’

‘I can be.’ Tyler’s hand tightened around the phone, his arm going rigid.

‘Could you come in for a chat? How about the day after tomorrow? And Mr Ward, please don’t discuss this with anyone. It’s important we maintain the integrity of this investigation.’

Tyler set the phone down, his mind reeling as he stared blankly at the bubbling pan.

The beef on the bottom began to char, giving off a bitter smell.

He swore, turned off the burner and gave the pan a stir.

A kaleidoscope of memories came crashing in – the fire, the chaos, the loss – and the scars left behind throbbed afresh.

He rang Clare. ‘Sorry to do this to you, but something’s come up and I can’t stay to serve dinner tonight.

There’s a stroganoff ready on the stove – a bit overdone I’m afraid.

It just needs heating, but don’t scrape the bottom of the pan.

There’s mash and sour cream in the fridge, and two cheesecakes.

Garlic loaves are ready for the oven, but if you want chips someone else will have to do them. ’

Clare thanked him, insisting that they’d manage and once more wishing him luck back in Brisbane.

Tyler checked the time. Four-thirty – classes would be over. Exiting the kitchen, he went in search of his son and the goodbye he wasn’t ready for. At the stables Leo was crouched down, painting Lofty’s hooves with neatsfoot oil. Hearing footsteps, he put his brush back in the tin and stood up.

‘You’re leaving tomorrow,’ he said, pre-empting Tyler’s announcement. ‘Mrs L already told me.’

Tyler rested a hand on the stable door, fingers curling around the weathered wood. ‘So ... what do you think?’

‘I’ve weighed the pros and cons.’ Leo gave Lofty an affectionate slap on his shining neck. ‘I guess it’ll be nice not having my father hovering over me. And the kids won’t be able to rib me about you any more.’

‘What about the cons?’

‘Well, that’s easy. I’ll miss your breakfasts ... and I’ll miss you.’ Leo’s joking tone was gone, and his admission hung between them, raw and honest.

Tyler clapped him on the shoulder, loving the solid reality of his son beneath his hand. They’d come such a long way.

‘Being here, Dad, getting to know you like this ... It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’ Leo’s eyes didn’t meet Tyler’s, as if the words were too powerful to be spoken face-to-face.

Tyler’s throat tightened. ‘Me too, Leo. Me too.’ His voice sounded rough around the edges.

They shared a look, a silent understanding that time apart would not change their newfound connection.

Tyler pulled Leo into a hug that was both a goodbye and a promise.

‘See you, kid. Look after Lofty, won’t you?

’ With a big sigh and a last lingering look, Tyler turned away.

There was somebody else he needed to say goodbye to.

He found Christy cleaning clay from the outdoor tables used for the student art projects.

Sunshine added fiery highlights to her hair, and he paused to watch her.

The attraction remained undeniable, yet this was goodbye, probably for the last time.

He cleared his throat softly as he approached, signalling his presence.

Christy turned, her expression shifting to a polite but guarded smile. ‘Tyler,’ she said, her voice steady and cool.

He stopped a respectful distance away and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the fabric of his jeans tighten over his knuckles as he clenched them slightly. ‘I’m heading back to Brisbane tomorrow.’ His voice betrayed none of the regret that plagued him.

Christy’s hands were busy collecting half-finished models onto a tray – perhaps a little too busy. ‘What time are you leaving?

‘First thing in the morning.’

‘Hope it all goes well for you.’

The desire to step closer, to bridge the gap between them with the easy familiarity they’d once shared, was strong.

He recalled the night they’d held each other after the show, the natural fit of her body against his – the first woman he could have loved since Grace.

‘There’s a lot I wish was different.’ The words slipped out, laced with more emotion than he intended.

Christy set down the tray, a flicker of something – perhaps surprise, perhaps regret – in her expression. ‘Life’s full of wishes that don’t come true.’

‘And responsibilities that can’t be ignored.

’ He wanted to say more, to express the frustration of their situation.

How he wished he could sweep her into his arms and find a way to make things work.

But he’d said too many harsh things, and he still had doubts.

Anyway, she was the one who’d thrown him over after the cabaret show. He still didn’t know why.

Christy nodded, seeming to understand all the things he didn’t say. ‘Take care, Tyler.’ She stepped forwards to offer a stiff, almost formal hug.

Tyler returned the embrace, allowing himself just a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair, a mixture of perfume and paint that was uniquely Christy. Reluctantly he let go, stepping back with a small, resigned smile. ‘You too. Keep in touch, yeah?’

‘Sure,’ she said, though they both knew the likelihood was slim. It was just something people said.

Turning away, Tyler walked back down the path to the car park, each step heavy with the finality of the farewell.

He didn’t look back, couldn’t trust himself to keep walking if he did.

Instead, he focused on the future, the return to his other life, where no echoes of what might have been could follow him.

The sun dipped below the mountain peaks, and with it the last warm rays of a connection that had once promised so much.