Aaron nodded and put his hand on her leg. “You’re looking real good, Kenz.” She did look good. He wasn’t going to let her teary red eyes take that away.
He took his hand away and watched the traffic as Mackenzie made her way out of Brisbane Airport, then called his mum. It was a brief call. His mum was a tough cookie and she knew he would be there soon. He placed the phone on the plastic console between the seats.
Aaron stared out the window. “This is all mighty strange, Kenz. Did Mum tell you?”
“Just a little. A body found in Eight Mile Plains?”
“Although I hope the body they’re talking about is not Dad’s, my gut feeling says otherwise. The police wouldn’t want us to identify the body unless they had a strong inkling that it was Dad. So how did he end up in Eight Mile Plains? That’s close to twenty kilometres from home. Dad wasn’t a marathon runner.”
Aaron paused and thought about emotional coldness. Should he be showing more emotion? His training had kicked in, to use sound judgment rather than emotions to make important decisions. He did feel different. He sensed toughness with his emotions, maybe a combination of army training and the death of his brother. The training gave him coping strategies, adaptability and resilience. His thoughts even sounded military, like a soldier going into battle.
“How’s Paul?” he asked. Yes, he had changed. That was a strategic, cold question.
<°)))><
Aaron and Mackenzie’s parents had been neighbours in one of the older streets of Bulimba Village for over twenty years. It wasn’t really a village. In the early years Bulimba had covered a much larger area, but in time was truncated to a small area on the edge of the Brisbane River.
Mackenzie turned the car into their street. Aaron’s heart sank. His mum stood, both hands resting on top of the old woven wire gate, obviously waiting for him. On seeing Mackenzie’s car, she opened the gate and walked onto the footpath. The gate closed behind her.
Mackenzie parked in her family’s driveway.
Before opening the door, he looked at Mackenzie and gave a sigh. “Thanks, Kenz. Appreciate what you’ve done. Best get to my mum now.”
“Yep. Give her a big hug. We can catch up later.”
He got out of the car, walked over and embraced Mum.
“Hello, soldier boy.”
Aaron smiled. He opened the gate and walked his mum up the path, onto the front porch. They each sat in a wicker chair, a small glass-topped wicker table between them. An ornamental grapevine kept the porch shady and cool.
“Your dad brought me here to live because it’s a place of heart. He told me that the Aboriginal name for Bulimba means ‘heart’, and if you look at the boundaries of Bulimba on a map, it’s heart-shaped.”
“I didn’t know that, Mum.” Aaron could see she was trying to distract herself. She followed a butterfly as it made its way through the grapevine, and then she turned to Aaron.
“He had a big heart. Aaron . . . it’s him, love. They told me the clothes he had on. Not everyone goes jogging wearing a Beatles t-shirt. But we still need to formally identify the body. We can do this together, Aaron.”
“We can.” Aaron pictured Dad’s t-shirt. It had the famous image of the Beatles crossing a zebra crossing. “You okay, Mum?”
“A bit numb, love . . . as you get older death becomes a regular companion. You know, friends die, relatives die, media personalities that you have grown up with die . . . but it’s the unexpected ones that hit you the hardest, and this one is dear to my heart.”
Aaron nodded. The world could see the love his parents had for each other. Death was such a confusing thing. The period after losing his brother in the car accident was one he would never forget. Sometimes he would seek out his brother only to remember he was gone. And he wondered why God did not prevent the accident. They told him God could have, but chose not to. It didn’t make a lot of sense to Aaron but he knew they meant well. Apparently, Aaron’s focus was on the physical side of things, and death was a spiritual thing. God was more concerned about the spiritual side of things. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, they would say. It was beyond Aaron’s understanding at the time, and still was. Would the aftermath of Dad’s death bring the same thoughts?
“Something I’m learning in life, love, is that I have to pay closer attention to the prompting of the Spirit. He wasn’t meant to wear that t-shirt. I told him it was dirty, but he didn’t mind. Not sure why, but I think if he had something different on this would not have happened.”
“You don’t know that, Mum.” Aaron was puzzled why she thought that.
“I think it’s true, Aaron, but . . . what would he be doing in Eight Mile Plains?” Her gaze followed the flight path of another butterfly through the grapevine. “Did he get lost or something? He wasn’t showing any signs of dementia or anything like that. I can only think that he was transported there by someone. But why?”
“We’ll find out.” He reached over and gave her a few pats on the hand.
“I spoke to someone from the police department a little while ago. They were making sure I was okay and told me that they will let me know as soon as anything crops up. The police person said something along the lines that they needed to establish if it was a crime scene or something else. They’re coming to visit us tomorrow; they have a few questions they would like to ask.”
Aaron thought about the incident being a crime. What else could it be? It must be foul play. Aaron believed Dad’s body was dumped there. He wanted to know why and by whom. He got up from the seat, touched her on the shoulder, and told her that he was here to help her with things. They heard a low screeching noise—something needed greasing. They looked out on the road and saw Mackenzie pulling Aaron’s suitcase over.
“Think it needs an oil, Mum?”
His mum smiled. “She’s still cute, isn’t she?”
<°)))><
Aaron and his mother sat on a bench at Riverside Park. A man and his wife walked past, their dog keeping them in tow. The couple nodded to Aaron’s mum.
“You know them, Mum?”
“Yep, they’ve been coming to our church for a while. Think the husband is a politician of some sort. They looked a bit rushed today. Normally, they’re a bit friendlier.”
Aaron and his mum walked to Riverside Park after the interview with the investigating officers. During the interview, Aaron sat with his mum while the officers went over the last twenty-four hours of Patrick’s life. Mum told them it was a quiet day. They went to church in the morning, and stayed a while after the service to help pack some groceries for needy families. Then they had lunch at their favourite café in Bulimba. She paused and repeated that it was a quiet twenty-four hours, nothing of significance: a quiet, peaceful day with no spilt drinks and no road rage incidents.
Aaron’s mum laughed when they asked if there were any known conflicts with her husband. Aaron smiled too. He knew Dad as a kind man who minded his own business, but would be the first to come to the aid of anyone in distress.
The police officers asked about church and if there could be any conflicts there. Aaron’s mum said that the world would be in a real mess if Christians were fighting with Christians. She did acknowledge that there was still some work to do with brotherly love and loving thy neighbour. No, she didn’t believe there were any conflicts.
The breeze brought in a slight chill so they decided to head home from the park.
Aaron’s mum had her arm tucked in Aaron’s arm. “I’m sure there were no conflicts, Aaron. Everyone loved your dad.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Mum.”
