Lemon-Scented Gum

By Ann Davie Approx.

3000 words

"Maddie never liked picnics, you see..." The old man's Adam's Apple bobbed under shaving-nicked skin.

I don't know what possessed me to finally walk up to him. I'd seen him in Victoria Park at least a dozen times the past few weeks. It's where I went to sit amongst the earthy loam after a storm, or walk at dusk to see what brilliant hue the sun cast over the naked forms of my lemon-scented gums. It felt very much like my park, no one else's. Sometimes I'd take Max there, but more often than not, he'd become restless with just sitting. He always has to be doing something and looking at trees wasn't something.

It's an intimate garden, tucked away behind a sandstone wall overgrown with ivy. A narrow path wends its way through hushed pines and conifers and drops you, unexpectedly, in the midst of a grassy oval, rimmed with soaring gums. The dark pavement, covered with lichen and moss, leads to secret benches and alcoves.

I think I could count on my hands the number of times I've seen another soul there in the last year. Two weeks ago, I began sharing my haven with this gentleman of no fixed age, or, it would appear, address. He seemed to be there no matter when I turned up.

Normally, I keep my eyes fixed firmly ahead when encountering a cackling, internally-focused bench-sitter. But after the third or forth time, I noticed he wasn't cackling so much as laughing with genuine delight. And he wasn't focused on inner demons, but appeared to watch some invisible comedy unfolding before him. It took me another day or two to muster up the courage to approach him.

We started out with polite "hello's" and moved on to "unusually dry and hot today's". Soon, I was looking forward to our meetings. I tried to keep my curiosity in check, though. Part of me wanted to cling to the spontaneity, the newness.

"Maddie...she's your wife's aunt, right?" I reaffirmed. After a quietly genial introduction, we resumed where we'd left off yesterday. He had started today's conversation with a succinct recap of family trees - his, his wife's, his cousins several times removed.

"Yes, that's right. She hated picnics. Loathed them. So what do you think we did on her sixty-seventh birthday? Thank God it was her last. No one was sorry to see her go, but everyone showed up to her funeral. Had to make sure she was really gone."

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Tears of mirth rolled down his smooth cheeks, pink from the fine spread of broken veins.

"Sadie had to have a dig at her, didn't she? Sadie's my wife's mother, if I didn't mention. She was hell bent on putting Maddie in her place, just like Maddie had done to her ever since...well ever since. We sat right over there, under that big oak. Maddie saw we were going to have a picnic and said that she wasn't going to have any part of it. Said she hated the flies and all. Sadie told her to sit her bony arse right down and shut up. Well, you can imagine that shut her up quick smart." He pointed over to the patch of lawn a few yards away.

"She sat down and started picking at some sandwiches. Nothing was ever good enough. Just as she was about to give Sadie an earful, wouldn't you know this great big magpie decided Maddie's hair was just the thing for its nest. I never saw anyone move as fast. Hands flapping, skirt ballooning up as she jumped around. The damned bird held on for dear life. Maddie screamed and ran all around. All we could do was piss ourselves laughing."

He gained his composure somewhat and continued with mock-solemnity. "Course she wrote us out of her will that afternoon. But it was worth it."

A wistful look veiled his eyes and he looked over at the rose garden.

"Over there, that's where I first saw her, my wife, Dot. Funny, I don't ever recall there being flowers around there. But I guess there must have been because I do remember the bee I swallowed when I first opened my mouth to say 'Hello'."

The sun was high above us and the dappled shade provided only limited relief from what was shaping up to be another dry, hot summer's day.

"Do you know how hard it is to look suave while choking on a bug? Dot always said afterwards that it must have been my sweet words that attracted the both of them." He chuckled softly. "She always made it so easy for me. Too easy sometimes. To this day, I wish I had it in me to give her what she truly deserved."

"It's getting hot out here, maybe you should get inside out of the sun and heat." I had to admit that my concern had selfish motives. The news lately had been full of stories about the elderly not being able to handle the heat so well. And my companion was wearing a dress shirt, tie, worsted wool jacket and heavy drill trousers. I wouldn't have a clue on how to handle heat stroke.

"Oh, doesn't bother me a bit. You go on, dear, if you're feeling faint." For the first time in our encounters, he turned to look straight at me.

Eyes shining bright, almost dancing. "I love the heat." A sly, somewhat sheepish, grin curled. "I don't suppose it would hurt anyone now if I told you.

"When I was about twenty-four, I had an offer for a job out in Bathurst. Small engineering stint with the railroad. I was going to be gone for six months, but I would come back with enough money to set up my own firm. Had the work lined up and everything."

He pulled out a folded handkerchief and mopped his forehead and neck.

"I came here one night. We'd agreed to meet before I left. Believe me, it was difficult for her to get out of the house alone and without causing a fuss. To this day, I don't know what excuse she must have given. Anyway, she was waiting for me near a gum tree that isn't here anymore. I don't think I'll ever forget it. No bark on the thing, like one of those twisted looking ones there." He pointed to one of my lemon-scented gums.

"Her shoulders were bare and the moon shown down on the two of them, the tree and her...skins blue and creamy. All I wanted to do, all I could do, was lose myself in her. I don't think I've ever felt a hunger like that since. We hadn't planned on it, how can you? But we made love. We both knew there was no use pretending. It just had to be."

He held his head low, peering up shyly. I suppose I should have felt awkward, but I couldn't. How can you feel anything other than joy at hearing a story of first desires? It's the way I feel when I recall Max's first letter, first love letter, to me. It's stowed away in some box, but I'll always be able to recall the feeling I had when I first read it.

"How do you know when someone's the one? I remember a fellow asking me that once. I think he was propping up the end of a bar the day before his wedding. I told him, 'It's when everything you've ever wanted to tell that person can be told with a single look.' I don't know if he ever made it down the aisle."

He looked at me, his hand patted the top of mine. "Now, dear, how'd you know you had found the one?"

"Why don't we move across the path to that other bench? The sun's moving and we're going to be caught in it soon." I had to change the subject. How could I tell him that I still wasn't sure? How could I tell him that Max knew I was the one when he discovered that I didn't like the look of Saabs either? Was it possible for a relationship to be made up of mutual likes and dislikes?

I helped him get up and steadied him as we walked into the lush dank fringed with ferns.

"That's better, dear. Thanks. Now, let's see...Oh that's right. Well, I went to Ballarat, but wasn't able to stay more than a month. I guess you know why. I suppose I could have ignored it all, plenty of blokes did...still do. There went the plans for my own outfit."

I thought of Max. He'd never have to face that ordeal. But somehow the reality of the situation was anything but liberating. I wondered how he'd cope with a surprise like that.

My stomach rumbled, neglected since last night's dinner.

"How about I spring for some lunch today? I'll just be a minute or two. OK?"

"Sure, dear. That'd be nice." He replied without thinking. Face flush from his thoughts of bare skin.

Out from the leafy cover, the urban streets were tinder-dry. Grit kicked up from a passing tram stung my eyes. I headed straight for the milkbar on the other side of High Street. Pushing the door open, I savoured the relief that washed over me. The bells on the doorhandle were mentally translated into sleighbells. Dark and packed to the rafters, the small store was cool and musty. An air conditioner, pushed to its limits, churned above my head.

"Hi, Nick. Need a couple of drinks and sandwiches. How about two cheese and ham and two salad on white. No butter, please."

I pulled open the refrigerator door, wishing I could stand in its chilling breeze for the rest of the afternoon. I was certain the old man was strictly a tea drinker, even on the beastliest summer's day. I picked out an apple juice and a few bottles of water.

"Max home for the day?" Nick gave a conspiratorial smile. He was nosy, but I didn't mind. I quite liked knowing that someone was keeping his eyes open.

"No, he's at work. These..." I held up the bottles "are for an old gentleman I've become acquainted with in the park across the road."

"Picking up strange men, eh? I didn't think you'd be the type, Miss Anya!" He finished wrapping up the last of the sandwiches and added the drinks to the plastic bag. "Four, five twenty, six forty. Seven eighty, please."

"Here you go. And he's not strange. He's quite a lively old bird. Just want to make sure he doesn't get too dehydrated. Consider me one of your agents...for a small fee I'll pass on any interesting information."

"You do that! I have spies all over the place. Give you a discount if you come up with anything good. Be careful!"

A soft jangling echo of bells and I was back in the midday wasteland.

I found him dozing in one of the grottos further down the path, now in his shirtsleeves and his tie loosened slightly. The heavy shell of stones and concrete provided the best cover. I unwrapped a sandwich and laid out the drinks, careful not to disturb him.

He opened his eyes a little.

"Sadie, you came. Thought you might be frightened to show up."

For the first time since I'd started talking to the old man, he was confused, and that frightened me. I could see the pleading in his opening eyes and the desperation as he realized where he was.

"Oh, it's you. Heat must have gotten to me." He was embarrassed.

"I brought you some sandwiches and something to drink. I didn't know what you might like. Please...help yourself."

He opened one of the ham and cheese and started eating. I wondered how long it had been since he'd had any kind of a meal. He had trouble opening the bottle of apple juice and handed it to me. "Please, dear. Would you mind?"

He sipped slowly at first, but his thirst must have taken over and he drained the bottle with two or three gulps. He seemed transformed.

"Over there. Used to be a small cricket pitch." He pointed over to the grassy oval. "That's where Bertie and I would play. He was a pretty decent fast bowler by the time he was ten. Not much control, though." He chuckled and rubbed his arm, as if soothing the long passed bruising and battering inflicted by his young son.

"One day we were out there. Dot was sitting on the side, watching the two of us muck about. Bertie was trying to get her to join in, teasing her and all. Finally she gave in. She stood over there," he pointed to the end closest to us.

"I'll be truthful and tell you that she had a stance like a baboon...you know, bottom sticking out and all. I couldn't help myself. I just started laughing. Couldn't stop. She was getting a bit touchy about it all, kept asking me what I was laughing about. Of course, I said, 'Why nothing, dear.' But she didn't believe a word of it. She said she was going to show me a thing or two." He pointed to the far end. "I was fielding and came in, just waiting for an easy hit. Boy did that make her angry, like a red rag to a bull."

He opened a bottle of water and took a swig. I finished off the last of the salad sandwiches.

"Bertie kept bowling her nice and easy. She said she wanted a real fast one, said she'd show us all what she was made of. Next ball, Bertie let loose...straight and fast. Dot swung, a perfect shot. Right down the pitch, but a bit high. Straight into the greenhouse. And out the other side!

"Well, the three of us gathered up all our things and ran for dear life. You would have thought we were all ten years old." The old man started laughing, holding his head in his hands. "The best part was, next day the grounds keeper came to our house and returned the ball. Said it's a shame Dot was a woman because there's no doubt she'd be selected to play for Australia. He'd been in there at the time, was bent over sweeping something up. If he'd been standing, it would have beaned him good. Dot swore up and down that she'd never step foot in this place again. And she never did."

The need for conversation dwindled. We sat and watched the breeze ripple the canopy overhead. Some Crimson Rosellas flitted about, searching for something, anything to eat. Their chatter, like that from a group of giggling school girls, proved impossible to ignore. Then it came.

The wind shifted, pushed from above with monumental effort, and with it a cool dampness. A line of clouds moved in, soon to eclipse the sun.

"Oh. Bliss. We've been waiting for this for weeks. I hope some rain comes with it." I looked to the old man. A single drop rested on his cheek. I thought it was rain at first.

"What's wrong? Did I do or say something wrong?"

"No, dear. I was just thinking about...well..." He studied the grotto walls.

"This is where we decided what had to be done. The right thing." He sighed and straightened his shoulders. "I told her I'd look after her and the baby. She said it just wasn't possible, but couldn't bear to lose either of us. She told me she'd be able to hide it and then make up some excuse to leave a few months to take care of a sick friend before it was due. I was to marry Dot and Sadie would come back with a new baby, supposedly that of the sick friend who died. We were to take care of him, adopt him. Of course Maddie found out and never let her forget about her sins."

I'd felt as if it were all a lie. He was still a sweet old man. If I'd just met him, I'd still think he was. But something changed. Everything was different now. I was deceived. As quickly as the flash of anger emerged, I immediately felt ashamed of myself.

"Yes, I can see. You're shocked. I don't blame you for thinking less of me now. I only wish Dot didn't have to live with the consequences. She never knew, I just couldn't bring myself to tell her. She passed away last month. Bertie doesn't know a thing, either. Don't know whether to tell him or not. I'm beginning to think not."

The sun was now buried under a thick blanket of cloud. As the wind picked up, stinging rain spit down. I looked over to my lemon-scented gum. Its trunk and limbs never looked cold.

A man approached, carrying an extra umbrella and raincoat. I mouthed his name, "Bertie", just as the old man called to him.

"Thought I'd find you here, Dad. Think we'd better head back home." He looked to me, the same eyes, the same curling smile greeted me.

"How do you do?" He offered me his hand. "I'm Albert. Dad's told me about talking to you. Said he's looked forward to it every day."

"I've enjoyed his company. It's been lovely to have someone to share my...this park with for a change."

The old man looked to me and laughed. "We've had some nice chats about cricketing adventures and such!"

Bertie shook his head and winced. "I think I ended up paying for the repairs to the greenhouse, but I always felt mum should have at least chipped in."

"No, Bertie, I think she paid enough." As they turned to go down the path, I called out, "See you tomorrow?"

"No, I'm heading back home up north. Grace, Bertie's sister, lives up on the coast. I live with her and her family. But thank you....for everything." And he gave me a look. One that said everything.

I went home and made dinner for Max. We made love that night. In bed, later on, I turned on the bedside light. He asked me what was on my mind and I looked at him. All he said was, "Oh, I see." And then he kissed me deeply and I knew. I just knew he was the one.