Page 64 of Return to the Waratah Inn

She stood in front of the door for a few moments, her heart in her throat. This was it. She was about to see Edie for the first time in years. Would she be welcome? Was their friendship as strong as she remembered it? She didn’t trust her own instincts anymore.

With a quick intake of breath, she raised her hand and pounded one fist on the thick timber door. It didn’t take long for the door to fly open and Edie was there, an apron tied around her waist. She was a little heavier than she’d been. Her eyes had a few lines around the edges. Her hair was shorter. But otherwise, she was Edie. Mima’s best friend. The one person who’d always been there for her.

Mima pushed a smile onto her face and raised both hands to wave. “Surprise!”

Three days after she arrived at the Waratah Inn, Mima began to feel a little more like herself. Edie had fussed over her, letting her sleep late, feeding her breakfast in bed, sitting together with her while she ate and recounting hilarious tales of Keith’s childhood activities, or things the guests had done, to make her laugh. Being with her friend was the best tonic she could have taken, and it had begun to bring a little healing to her ragged and bleeding soul.

That morning, Edie brought pancakes with fresh strawberries from the garden and cream from the milking cow, a Jersey named Yoghurt, into the room after a soft tap on the door. She set the food tray down on the stand by the bed and went to open up the heavy blackout curtains, letting a flood of summer sunshine into the room. Edie and Paul had agreed to let Mima work in the kitchen at the inn for her keep. They’d invited her to stay and told her they needed the help, that she would be doing them a favour. The relief she’d felt at those words was impossible for her to communicate. But she finally felt safe again, for the first time in months.

“You know, I’m happy for you to wake me earlier so I can help out in the kitchen,” Mima said with a yawn as she propped herself up in bed with pillows behind her back.

Edie set the tray and stand so that it was positioned in front of Mima, and then sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Mima’s leg beneath the floral sheets.

“I know. But rest is good for you. We’ll get a contract and do it right. I want you to feel rested and ready.”

“I trust you, honey. I know you’ll take care of me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Edie replied.

“You’re busy with the inn. I see you run off your feet all day long. And you’ve got Keith to care for…”

“You’ve helped with that already, and I really appreciate it. I’m so glad he gets to spend time with you and is getting to know you. I’ve wanted that for so long. Aunty Mima, he calls you. I’ve always told him about you—he knew about you, but he didn’t know you. It means so much to me.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to spend time with him. He’s a beautiful boy, and you’re doing a great job raising him, you and Paul. Paul is a good dad. You’re a very lucky woman. Do you know that?”

“I know,” Edie replied with a shy smile. “I never thought I’d get so lucky again when I lost Charlie.”

“So, let me help you in the kitchen. I know you need it.”

“You’re not ready yet. Give yourself some time. The job will be waiting for you when you’re healthy and strong.”

“It’s that obvious?” Mima asked as she poured tea from a china teapot with pink flowers on a vine that wove around the handle. She sipped the tea. It was hot and pungent, with a hint of orange and some kind of flower. Her tongue stung from the burning heat of it. She added milk and sugar, then sipped again. Perfect.

“Look, Mimes, I don’t know what happened. You keep saying you’re okay, that you just took a few wrong turns in life, but I can tell it’s more than that. You look as though you haven’t eaten or slept in weeks. You’re sad. In all the years I’ve known you, nothing got you down for long. When Ollie died, I was worried you might not make it back to me, but you did. And now… there’s an emptiness behind your eyes that worries me.”

Mima tipped the syrup jug so that her pancakes and butter swam in it. Then she set down the jug. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I know something’s wrong. I’m here for you—that’s all I’m saying. Even if all you need from me is pancakes and silence, that’s what I’ll give you. I only want you to be happy, darl. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know you do.” Mima reached out to squeeze Edie’s hand as tears filled her eyes.

She pushed the tray of food aside and lifted her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she swayed slightly back and forth, her eyes fixed on the quilt at the foot of the bed.

“I had a baby.”

Edie gasped, then covered her mouth with one hand. She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“He didn’t make it.” Mima’s brimming eyes overflowed so that tears coursed down her cheeks.

Edie’s face collapsed and she immediately embraced her friend, pressing her cheek to Mima’s. “Oh, no.”

Mima told Edie everything between sobs and broken breaths. She blew her nose countless times and ranted about the injustice of it all. She slapped the bed beside her and threw herself back against the pillows. She punched the air where she wished Mrs Thompson’s face could’ve been. She railed about the police. She sobbed over the cold phone calls with her mother and the unanswered letters written to her parents. And she wailed when she recounted Fran’s baby being taken, then her own baby lost. And the callousness of the medical staff who wouldn’t help them when they needed it the most. Then, finally, she quieted and rested her chin on her knees, completely spent and empty inside.

“What can I do?” Edie asked, her own eyes red and her cheeks wet with the hollowed-out pain of a hour’s listening.

“Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do.” Mima was empty. A hull. Her tone was dead. “He’s gone. Ollie’s gone. My parents don’t want me. Fran has disappeared. I’ve lost everyone and everything I cared about.”

Edie let out a cry. She sobbed quietly for a few moments, her eyes fixed on Mima’s face, and then drew in a deep breath. She leaned forward to cup Mima’s cheeks between her palms as her eyes overflowed and silent sobs wracked her body. “No… no. You haven’t lost everyone. Mima, do you hear me? You haven’t lost me. You’ll never lose me.”