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  Angel’s Bend

  L.A. Dale

  Copyright 2011 by L.A. Dale

  Smashwords Edition

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  Discover other titles by L.A Dale at Smashwords.com

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  Chapter One

  Putting her backpack down on the footpath and stuffing the novel she’d been reading into it, Lacey Green waited as the bus driver opened the metal compartment in the side of the bus to retrieve her suitcase. A jumble of bags in all colours and sizes filled the space and she bent around him, her eyes searching the pile.

  “There, that red one over there.”

  With a heaving grunt, the bus driver pulled her bag from the hold, setting it at her feet next to the others, with a thud.

  “That everything?” he asked, his face a harried question. Clearly, he wanted to be on his way.

  “Yep. Thanks.”

  “Okay, well good luck then, girlie.” With a wave, he climbed into the bus and hoisted the door closed before hopping into his seat. Flicking the indicator to life, he steered the bus back onto the highway.

  After watching the bus drive away, Lacey stood for a minute. She gazed up and down the road, her eyes taking in every detail. It had been six years since she’d been in Angel’s Bend, but the town looked the same. Flame trees in bloom decorated Main Street, their tangerine spiked flowers reaching to the sky. May’s Beauty Shop, still pink with lavender trim along the verandah, advertised an eyebrow wax and tint special. Down the length of empty street, the bridge crossing the Seraphim River stood strong and proud, its current edging towards an unknown destination. It was as if she’d walked into a time warp, the place was like it had been when she was a kid. And probably just as boring. At least she wouldn’t get lost on her way to Aunt Beth’s.

  Lacey looked down at the suitcases, stuffed to overflowing with her most prized possessions and clothes. What the hell was she meant to do now? Carry them, she supposed. Aunt Beth had said to call but she didn’t want to put anyone out. She knew her aunt would still be working at that time of the day.

  Hoisting her duffel bag over her shoulder and stretching out her suitcase handle, Lacey stacked her other bags on top and headed south, crossing at Jackson’s Hardware. Passing Heavenly Aroma Café she noticed it had only one patron. Jock’s Music shop looked dead as a doornail, too. Even the supermarket was empty. What had she done? Had coming here been a big mistake? The quicker she got to Aunt Beth’s the sooner she could ring Dad and tell him she was on her way back. Art School was a stupid idea. She’d be just as happy staying on the farm with him.

  Three blocks later, arms aching from pulling her luggage, Lacey stopped across the road from the Angel’s Bend Bookshop. Standing as it always had, its blue and white painted façade hidden under the eyebrows of a verandah covered in wisteria, it was a cheerful haven in this world of times gone by. A large sign filling the window indicated that, if nothing else had happened in six years, Aunt Beth had at least moved with the times. Angel’s Bend Bookshop now sold coffee to those who wished to sit and browse before they bought. And they had free wifi. Lacey smiled to herself. Facebook. Twitter. Skype. A glimmer of modernity to keep her sane.

  Pausing at the kerb, Lacey watched a lone car speed down the road in front of her, pulling to a halt in an empty parking space near May’s.

  Damn one horse town, she thought, noting her now muddied feet with disgust and lifting one to shake the water away. From underneath, something colourful appeared stuck to her sole. Intrigued, she let go of her suitcase to peel it off. It was a tarot card with a picture of a queen. An upside down queen dressed in gilt and looking sombre. Weird. Rubbing the card dry, Lacey pocketed it, determining to find out what it meant. Not that she believed in any of that tarot stuff. Load of crap, really. But she knew someone who did, and she was waiting on the other side of the street in that shop. Stepping out onto the road, Lacey crossed and headed towards the bookshop that belonged to Aunt Beth.

  Pushing the timber door open, Lacey heard the tinkle of the bell above it announce her arrival. She paused and breathed in the scene. For mid summer, it was a chilly day and the corner of the Victorian building housed a fireplace, stacked with logs crackling in the grate. An amber glow spread over the room, laying its fingers over books on neatly ordered shelves, housing all manner of titles. Fiction, travel, gardening, dressmaking. She wondered briefly if Aunt Beth had any good books on photography or art. Maybe she could get a couple of new novels. She’d always loved to read but in the eight months since the accident she’d denied herself the pleasure of books, her guilt semi-satisfied with this self-imposed punishment.

  Dad had been concerned of course, at her erratic behaviour. He couldn’t find a way to break through. She hadn’t wanted him to. The move to Angel’s Bend had been his last hope that his daughter would return to him. Dad missed that happy girl, the one who’d loved to gallop over the paddocks with him to check on the sheep. They’d been so close then, shared so much and things hadn’t been the same since they’d stopped riding together. Lacey knew that.

  “It’s a fresh start, Lace,” Dad had said, as they sat at the dinner table just before Christmas. “No one but Aunt Beth knows what happened. No one needs to know, if you don’t want to tell them. All they need to know is that you’re coming to Angel’s Bend High to finish your schooling. Despite the fact that it’s a small town, its art program has one of the best reputations in the South West. It’s the perfect stepping stone if you want to get into Art School to do that degree.” His face was serious. He looked as if he didn’t know his daughter anymore. “You do still want to go to Art School in the city?”

  “Of course I do, Dad,” Lacey said. “I’m just not sure that I’m ready to face a whole new community of nosy people.”

  “You don’t have to be friends with them, Lace. Just work hard, get good grades and make a new start. That’s all. Aunt Beth is so excited that you’re coming. She’s repainting the spare room for you as we speak.”

  Oh Geez. Lacey could imagine the pink and purple colour scheme she’d probably arrive to. The last time she’d seen Aunt Beth she’d been wearing some sort of rainbow tie dyed creation and her birthday gifts often bordered on bizarre. But Lacey wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t need to be bribed to do the right thing with a fairy doona cover. “I don’t need a new room, Dad. I’m going to go. I was merely making a point that I don’t want to.”

  “Aunt Beth will take good care of you. And I’m only a phone call away.”

  And maybe that was best - Dad being a phone call away. Every time he looked at her, Lacey saw the hurt. She knew he blamed her.

  Lacey craned her neck around a few of the ceiling high rows of books. “Hello? Aunt Beth?”

  “Lacey, baby. You’re here.”

  Coming in from the back room, Aunt Beth put a stack of books down on the counter. Her hazel eyes fell to Lacey’s bags. “You silly child. Why didn’t you call out? I told you to ring when you got off the bus. Those bags must’ve been awfully heavy.”

  Lacey gave a small smile that disappeared into her Aunt’s strong embrace. Pulling back she said, “Its okay. I only had to walk a few hundred metres. I lost my Mum, not my legs.”

  Aunt Beth ignored the comment. “Right. Well lets get those bags into the back and you can sit here
and tell me all about what’s been happening at home. How’s your Dad coping? Is that wretched Lucille still trying to win his heart with baked dinners?”

  Rolling Lacey’s suitcases behind her, Aunt Beth led her out to the small office. Lacey followed, plonking her backpack in the corner next to the suitcases. She sat down at an old timber table, its surface covered in stories of years past.

  “He’s fine, I s’pose. He’s got more stock out in the back paddocks and he’s trying his hand at growing raspberries and blueberries.”

  “Your Dad? A fruit farmer? Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “He wants to diversify and after the accident, I think he wanted a new start, a new interest. Berries are completely foreign to him but he’s enjoying it. It takes his mind off things.”

  Like her behaviour for one thing. After Mum had died in the car accident on her way home from collecting the mail one afternoon, Lacey had gone into a downward spiral. And being seventeen, her Dad had no idea how to cope. He was deep enough in his own grief. A wayward daughter had almost tipped him over the edge.

  “So Lucille’s gone? That woman was bad news with her big hair and heaving bosom.”

  “Yep. I think she finally got the hint when she popped over to find Mrs Butterworth sitting down with us, eating one of Dad’s stews. He never needed Lucille’s help, he was just too nice to tell her to nick off.”

  Aunt Beth pushed a mug of green tea in front of Lacey. “You do still drink it don’t you?” she asked, indicating the steaming cup.

  Lacey sipped. “Yep. Though I’m more into peppermint and the other herbal teas these days.”

  “Well, after we settle you in we’ll make a list and pop over to the supermarket. You need to have the things you love.”

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “Oh honey, it’s no trouble, believe me. This is your home for the next year and as such, I’ll be expecting you to pull your weight. A few packets of tea and some toiletries won’t be putting me out.”

  Well, thought Lacey. Guess that’s that. Let’s just hope the bedroom wasn’t pink and purple.

  Chapter Two

  It was amazing how comfortable the old four-poster bed had been. When she woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through the window onto her doona, Lacey felt like Sleeping Beauty. It was as if she’d awoken from a nightmare and her life was about to start. Bounding out of bed and slipping her feet into her calf length ugg boots, she reached onto the bedside table and grabbed a band, pulling up her raven hair and twisting it into a knot on the top of her head. On her way past, she ducked into the bathroom she was to share with Aunt Beth and gave her face a refreshing splash.

  “Sleep well?”

  Aunt Beth was standing at the counter of the country kitchen, a large canister of cereal in her hand. Lacey came to the other side and picked up a jug of juice, pouring a glass for herself and her aunt.

  “Like a dream. That bed is amazing.”

  Aunt Beth gave a hint of a smile. She wasn’t about to tell Lacey that it wasn’t so much the bed that was amazing as the poppet doll she’d filled with lavender, dandelion and rosemary and put under Lacey’s pillow. That and a loving invocation had ensured a sound sleep for her troubled niece.

  “Any plans for today?” Aunt Beth asked, as they sat down to a breakfast of homemade muesli.

  “Um, well, if you don’t need me to do anything for you, I thought I might take a walk around town. Re-acquaint myself. If I take my camera I might even be inspired to get a few shots.”

  “Why don’t you go down to the Willow Walk? If you take the cliff path around the river you’ll get to Angel’s Maze. It looks really pretty lately. The council’s cleaned it up and they’ve even employed a young man from out of town to do maintenance on the statue of Saint Michael the Archangel and the other statues in the park. Someone finally realised they could be a tourist attraction. ”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Lacey replied.

  *****

  The gravel along the Willow Walk crunched under her feet. Long branches of the trees that gave it its name dragged on the ground like strands of green mermaid’s hair swirling in the tide. Intrigued at their movement, Lacey took out her camera and snapped a few close ups, looking at the results in the viewing pane. She shook her head, annoyed with herself. You couldn’t get a true idea of the shots until they were enlarged, of course, but even she could see they were crap. Since her mother’s death everything had turned to crap. That was why she’d failed her finals, not passed Year 12. Her life had been crap and hiding it with a different form of crap, namely drugs, hadn’t changed a thing. All it did was make her feel worse than she already did. When would her mojo return? It was as if she was lost in the darkest wood, without a torch, and though she bashed at the bushes with her sword she couldn’t get out. Worse still, no one came to rescue her when she called.

  Putting her camera strap back over her shoulder, Lacey trudged off down the path. It took a few minutes but as a breeze blew against her face, she realised that she’d been so deep in thought that the scenery around her had changed without her even noticing. So much for taking in the sights. She was standing at the edge of Angel’s Bend Cliff, the waterfall was below her and she hadn’t even seen it. Not that the Seraphim Falls were anything to rave about. The water, slower further up the river, peaked here and twisted its way to a precipice where it fell a few metres in cascades of white that crashed onto the rocks below, to be reborn as a new river. Nothing spectacular. She watched as a stick floated down on the current, its bobbing becoming more frantic as it got closer to being thrust out into the mid air of the falls and crashing under at the bottom. She wondered what it would be like to drown. Not nice, she decided and set off again.

  Along from the falls, Lacey crossed the road over the Seraphim Bridge, still following the path that led her at last to the river park. It was just your average park - playground, picnic and barbecue areas, lots of shade trees but the thing that set it apart was the gravestones dotted around the edge like a stone fence. Nobody knew the history of how or why they got there and nobody who lived in the town paid much heed. She watched as a couple of kids used them in a game of stepping-stones. They didn’t seem to care that they were treading on dead people’s heads.

  Kneeling down near one, Lacey turned on her camera. Gravestones. An unlikely subject but could prove useful inspiration given her immediate past. She took a few shots at different angles and using different light settings, then sat down on the grass to survey her efforts. That wasn’t bad. She rolled to her stomach and snapped ten or so more, reviewing as she went. These were the first shots she’d taken in months that were worth keeping.

  Sitting up, Lacey put her camera aside and looked around the park. At the bottom was Angel’s Maze, its centrepiece statue of Saint Michael the Archangel poking proudly from the middle. It was meant to entice people into the maze because you knew when you reached it that you had reached the centre. The prize, so to speak, was the intricate carving around the bottom of the statue, unable to be seen from outside the maze. When Lacey was eight, she’d been there one day with her parents. It was the only time in her life she remembered coming to town with the whole family. That day, Dad had taken her into the maze after a rare argument with Mum. She’d refused point blank to go anywhere near the Angel Maze, claiming claustrophobia of all things. Funny, Lacey thought, Mum’d never been afraid of small spaces before that day. Funny too, that she’d forgotten about the event until now.

  Looking across the grass to the maze, Lacey noticed something strange. A massive bird was crouched on the top. She picked up her camera and trained her lens towards it. Then she zoomed in. It wasn’t a bird. It was a boy. Around her own age possibly. He was sitting at the top of the statue, right on Saint Michael’s shoulder, almost as if he were having some type of conversation with him. How odd.

  Lacey stood and moved closer, snapping as she went. Suddenly, she was full of inspiration for her work. She
saw the idea for her final exhibition clearly in her head. It would be a study of angels, centred on the statue and made from a variety of mediums. She clicked again. All she had to do was go into the maze and get some shots from different angles. There were smaller angels there too, to fuel her imagination. It would be fabulous.

  Pleased, she raced down the hill to the maze entrance. The boy was still there and now, through the lens, she could see the brilliant green of his eyes, framed by dark lashes. Oblivious to her scrutiny, he stared over the top of the maze and into the distance. Putting her camera to her eye, Lacey took one more shot in silhouette against the sun. It was perfect.

  Chapter Three

  After lunch, Lacey sat at her laptop in the back room of Aunt Beth’s shop. Full of enthusiasm for her idea, she was keen to upload the photos she’d taken. Aunt Beth was out the front re-shelving books. She hated it when people left them lying around after browsing.

  “Aunt Beth?” Lacey called.

  “Hmm?”

  “I saw the strangest thing while I was at the maze today. It looked really cool. Come and see.”

  Aunt Beth put down the book in her hand and came to sit by Lacey. “What was it?”

  The photos uploaded, Lacey began scrolling thought them to find the shot she needed. “This guy. He was sitting like a bird on the statue, right on Saint Michael’s shoulder, as if he was talking to him. Do you know him?” Angel’s Bend was a small town. Everyone knew everyone.

  “It was probably Cam, the boy they hired to do the maintenance. He’s always climbing around on that statue. Gave me quite a surprise the first time I saw him at it. No fear at all.”

  Lacey nodded. “What’s he like?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to him apart from a hello in the street. He’s only been in town a few months. Tends to keep to himself. Why?” Beth knew exactly why Lacey had a sudden interest in Cam. That white blonde halo of hair would be enough to attract any girl her age. And the skin - like alabaster - he looked as if he’d dropped from Heaven.