Read Online Absolution Creek by Nicole Alexander - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicole Alexander
Tags: Fiction
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men in years past who’d tried to do their best by the girl Cora. None of them really succeeded. One would lose Cora to save her, another would end up dying for her. And him? Well, he killed for her.
Chapter 5
Absolution Creek Homestead, Northern NSW, 1965
T here was a scatter of leaves overhead, the creak of iron. The great branches of the leopardwood swayed above the homestead, the tree’s canopy stretching protectively over the building. The highest branches were twisted and dark as if a great fight had occurred to find both air and space as it grew upwards from within the homestead. The remaining branches, dense in both number and leaves, spread from the thick trunk, which leant precariously towards the outside of the building. It was as if some force had leant against the interior of the building and pushed it outwards, so that boards bulged from top to bottom. A single leaf fluttered to the base of the great tree to rest on the uneven floorboards where its roots laid claim to its surrounds. The sun dropped a little lower, the angle of light disturbing a tiny brown lizard on the speckled bark. The creature absorbed the last of the day’s warmth before scurrying upwards towards the ceiling.
With open palms, Cora touched the bark of the leopardwood and felt the surge of energy from its living centre. Pressing her forehead against the knobbly tree she felt the great heart of the woody plant wrap her in love.
‘So that’s it then?’ a voice queried, slightly bemused.
She turned towards the rumpled bed and the dark-haired man; one leg entangled in the white sheet, his arm flung carelessly across a pillow. Cora wished she had woken earlier, left before his waking. The cotton billowed out and upwards as he flung the sheet from his body, his lean frame bare. She watched him dress, slowly, methodically: navy work shirt, heavy cable jumper, pale jeans frayed at the hems. When he sat to pull on grey woollen socks, his hair falling over his forehead, she almost relented.
‘It would never have worked.’ Her words were as crisp as the air. The wind scattered the leaves from the great tree in her bedroom, piling them in a dusty corner of the veranda.
‘That’s what you said last time.’
‘Well, I’m doubly sure now.’ The fact that James was smiling only made things worse. It was as if he could see beyond her words to the truth of things.
He pulled on his boots with decisive movements. ‘Every time we get close, really close, you pull away from me.’ He touched her cheek. ‘Nothing else matters you know, Cora, except us.’
Cora visualised her fingers on his, held her breath as the pressure from his touch met the warmth beneath. There was a momentary pause before the inevitable. It was like passing beneath a bridge from shadow to sunlight yet her decision held her fast.
James tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a wink. He made her feel such a girl again, with his cheeky grin and his habit of standing so close that there was little choice but to look up to him. Nearing his mid-forties, James was in his prime. Any woman would have been proud to have a younger man such as he in her bed. And, ten years his senior, Cora was well aware of what she was giving up.
‘We can’t live in a vacuum, James, you know that. Life doesn’t allow it.’
‘Well, you seem to be doing a good job of it.’
Cora directed her attention to the leopardwood tree in the corner of her bedroom. Men were impossible, she mused. Relationships were impossible.
‘Ah yes, the silent treatment,’ James said lightly. ‘What a tragedy you are, Cora Hamilton.’
After he left, Cora sat stiffly on the bed. She glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror. A straight almost patrician nose was complemented by rounded cheeks and generous lips undiminished by age. Fine lines etched oval eyes. Her neck was not yet scraggly, her hair still black and lustrous. Despite the thin line of a scar that ran close to one eye, some
Chapter 5
Absolution Creek Homestead, Northern NSW, 1965
T here was a scatter of leaves overhead, the creak of iron. The great branches of the leopardwood swayed above the homestead, the tree’s canopy stretching protectively over the building. The highest branches were twisted and dark as if a great fight had occurred to find both air and space as it grew upwards from within the homestead. The remaining branches, dense in both number and leaves, spread from the thick trunk, which leant precariously towards the outside of the building. It was as if some force had leant against the interior of the building and pushed it outwards, so that boards bulged from top to bottom. A single leaf fluttered to the base of the great tree to rest on the uneven floorboards where its roots laid claim to its surrounds. The sun dropped a little lower, the angle of light disturbing a tiny brown lizard on the speckled bark. The creature absorbed the last of the day’s warmth before scurrying upwards towards the ceiling.
With open palms, Cora touched the bark of the leopardwood and felt the surge of energy from its living centre. Pressing her forehead against the knobbly tree she felt the great heart of the woody plant wrap her in love.
‘So that’s it then?’ a voice queried, slightly bemused.
She turned towards the rumpled bed and the dark-haired man; one leg entangled in the white sheet, his arm flung carelessly across a pillow. Cora wished she had woken earlier, left before his waking. The cotton billowed out and upwards as he flung the sheet from his body, his lean frame bare. She watched him dress, slowly, methodically: navy work shirt, heavy cable jumper, pale jeans frayed at the hems. When he sat to pull on grey woollen socks, his hair falling over his forehead, she almost relented.
‘It would never have worked.’ Her words were as crisp as the air. The wind scattered the leaves from the great tree in her bedroom, piling them in a dusty corner of the veranda.
‘That’s what you said last time.’
‘Well, I’m doubly sure now.’ The fact that James was smiling only made things worse. It was as if he could see beyond her words to the truth of things.
He pulled on his boots with decisive movements. ‘Every time we get close, really close, you pull away from me.’ He touched her cheek. ‘Nothing else matters you know, Cora, except us.’
Cora visualised her fingers on his, held her breath as the pressure from his touch met the warmth beneath. There was a momentary pause before the inevitable. It was like passing beneath a bridge from shadow to sunlight yet her decision held her fast.
James tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a wink. He made her feel such a girl again, with his cheeky grin and his habit of standing so close that there was little choice but to look up to him. Nearing his mid-forties, James was in his prime. Any woman would have been proud to have a younger man such as he in her bed. And, ten years his senior, Cora was well aware of what she was giving up.
‘We can’t live in a vacuum, James, you know that. Life doesn’t allow it.’
‘Well, you seem to be doing a good job of it.’
Cora directed her attention to the leopardwood tree in the corner of her bedroom. Men were impossible, she mused. Relationships were impossible.
‘Ah yes, the silent treatment,’ James said lightly. ‘What a tragedy you are, Cora Hamilton.’
After he left, Cora sat stiffly on the bed. She glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror. A straight almost patrician nose was complemented by rounded cheeks and generous lips undiminished by age. Fine lines etched oval eyes. Her neck was not yet scraggly, her hair still black and lustrous. Despite the thin line of a scar that ran close to one eye, some
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