The Paler Shade of Autumn (27 page)

Autumn turns her eyes to the ceiling and sighs. “She won’t escape my thoughts. I feel as though I’ve committed a crime leaving her at that orphanage. She needs love.”

“From you?”

“From someone, anyone. I can love her. I can. I would.”

Jet nods. “You want a baby?”

Autumn shakes her head. “No. I want Oyunbileg.”

Jet pulls the covers back and rolls out of bed. “That’s something I
can
give you,” he says and walks off to the bathroom; turns on the shower taps.

Autumn follows him. He is under the streaming water when she walks in. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. If that’s what you want, to adopt, I can give you that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to give me it, Jet. It’s not a gift to give someone. Like a puppy or a piece of jewellery.”

His eyes flash exasperation. “I know that.”

“Then what are you saying? Really trying to say?” She pulls off her clothes and steps into the shower with him.

He groans, angrily. “I’m trying to let you know, without moving this relationship too quickly for you, that I’m willing to be a father, with you by my side.”

Autumn stares at his face, eyes open and honest. “I’m not afraid of commitment. I’m not afraid of moving this relationship too quickly. Our circumstances have destroyed any possibility of a slow-paced relationship.”

He nods. “I only wanted to be sure we’re on the same page.”

“Are we on the same page?”

He pulls her by the waist into his body and kisses her. “Yes. We always have been.”

While they shower, the phone rings. Jet returns the call while Autumn is dressing. He comes to the door, face epitomising loss. Autumn nods, feeling her throat constricting. She doesn’t need the words spoken to know that Andrew has died. Jet turns and walks away.

Autumn dresses quickly, throwing her hair into a ponytail, slapping on pointless makeup. None of anything seems valid, worthy. She finds Jet sitting on the bed, sliding his feet into his shoes.

“I need to get out of this room,” she says, determined not to cry, body seeming resistant to releasing anything resembling tears.

He nods. “Are you well enough?”

“I’m fine, physically.”

“Then there’s somewhere I want to show you. The reason I brought you to Japan. I want to make good on a promise I made to you.”

“But Andrew—should we—I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jet stands and takes her arm. “We’re alive. So we keep on living. That’s what we do.”

Jet asks the concierge to organise a driver to take them to Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens. Through the streets of Tokyo, congested with pedestrian and motor traffic, compacted with towering buildings aglow in fluorescent technicolour, they drive in awe and wonderment of their surreal surrounds, a welcome distraction from the gloom felt heavily in each of their hearts.

Autumn doesn’t know what to expect at the gardens. But when she strolls hand in hand with Jet through the entrance, the cool breeze of the morning kissing her cheeks, she beholds the scene before her and is struck dumb: autumn. An idealistic epitome of all that is autumn. Her eyes flitter around the park, but to the maple trees, their snowflake shaped leaves, is where her attention transfixes; absolute beauty expressed in the shades of russet, burnt orange and red with intense magnificence. Against the contrasting shades of greens possessed by the surrounding plant life and the lake rippling behind, the colours of the maples appear like a punch of colour on a bleak canvas of beige, so strong and fiery, impossible to miss their undeniable beauty.

“This is truly the season of autumn if ever I imagined it. But this, this scene right here, totally transcends any notion I’ve held of what autumn should and could ever be,” she says, voice a husky whisper.

Jet smiles, so broad and genuine. “I have wanted to show you this place since I saw it ten years ago, before I even knew you. I remember saying to myself, ‘I will show my future wife this place’. This memory is what my mind conjured when I first saw you in Bodh Gaya and I knew it then, it was you I was thinking of, when I had that thought.

“When you told me about our past in Tibet and my promise to show you autumn and all that is beautiful, you confirmed what I already knew in my soul to be true.”

“It’s so beautiful.”

“As are you, Autumn.”

She smiles, loving the sound of his tender words, not missing his mention of ‘wife’, but so besotted with the scenery that she cannot turn her eyes away from it, escape the allure.

They continue around the park, the peaceful haven inside a chaotic city, devouring the sights. They past ponds and rice fields, bridges, each unique yet perfectly Japanese, well-tended and flawlessly manicured, until again they arrive at a clump of maples.

“I wish this was all there was to my sight. Being able to see the beauty and aesthetics of the natural world,” Autumn says with a sigh.

“With your ability to see into people’s minds, you are seeing beauty, because you are seeing truth, rather than the false, social veneer.”

She shakes her head. “There isn’t always beauty in what I see. Truth or no truth, the mind holds onto things that as human beings we can do without, and I can do without witnessing them.”

“Like that Indian lady?”

“Exactly like that Indian lady and Tae’s boyfriend and that little baby girl I held in my arms in Mongolia, and Andrew.”

Jet frowns.

“Something’s changing though, Jet. It’s as though this insight is transforming and becoming stronger. Not only have I seen into a former life, but I have felt physical pain and known exactly when someone will die. That has never happened before now.”

“Could it be getting stronger?”

Autumn nods. “I’m afraid that it is. Even the emotions and images I receive feel more alive and seem to weigh me down. Now, days after leaving Mongolia, I can still feel the heaviness of what I witnessed. I feel as though I’m standing on a very thin precipice looking over the edge into pure insanity and one more tumultuous insight will thrust me over the edge, into the pain and grief for eternity and I’ll never return.” Tears have rolled down her cheeks before she recognises their existence.

Jet lifts his thumb to her cheek and rubs the tears gently from her face. He pulls her into his arms, nestling her head under his chin. “I’m here for you. I will never let you fall.”

“I’m not sure this is something you can control.”

“Perhaps not. But I’ll sure as hell try.”

After minutes seamlessly glide from the present into the past, Autumn lifts her head from Jet’s chest and takes another look at her beautiful surroundings. “There is no more beautiful place than here. Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here. I will never in my life forget it.”

He extends his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.”

“And yes, Jet. You’ve fulfilled your promise and I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Autumn purchases a pair of red gloves on the way home from the gardens, content to be experiencing a temperature that calls for them to be worn. For the remaining two days in Japan, she wears them continually outside of the confines of their hotel room, blocking out anything that would contribute to the imminent crumble of that thin cliff upon which she stands so precariously; the only ledge above the swirling gloom below, possessed of a thousand and one torturous memories and not one her own.

Autumn expects to wake to an empty bed. She knows that Jet is restless if he isn’t occupied, and sleep isn’t enough to occupy him. She finds him in the lounge, drinking a hot mug of coffee, typing emails on the laptop he has spread across his lap. He is already dressed, his hair combed, chin shaved, his shirt and pants bright and ironed.

Meanwhile, she is still wearing her silk nightie, hair matted as it clings around her shoulders. She yawns, glances at the time on her watch—a little past six o’clock. Her mind still feels heavy from the sleeping pill she swallowed just before she closed her eyes last night, as though a thick, dark cloud has drifted in and settled around her head. She slept well, but it didn’t stop the dreams.

Jet raises his buttery eyes as she pads towards him. He smiles, lifts his laptop from his lap and rests it on the coffee table. He pats his knees, like a father would to a child. She smiles and sits on his lap welcoming his arms, which wrap firmly around her waist and pull her against him.

“Did you sleep well?”

She nuzzles her head into the curve of his neck. “Yes and no.” Her eyes close, fighting for more sleep.

“You were talking in your sleep again last night,” he says.

She sits up; looks at him. He devastates her, seeing each morning afresh how utterly breathtaking he is. “I didn’t keep you up did I?”

“Not really.” He bites at her neck and immediately stiffens beneath her, pressing against her arse.

“It doesn’t take much,” she says, grinning.

He trails his hand up her long thigh, over her silk covered waist, breast. He grows even harder; still nips at the flesh of her throat.

“This is why we need to wake up together—so you can get all this pent-up morning angst out and save yourself getting dressed twice.”

He groans against her ear. “I’d love to rip that nightie off you this very second, but Scott’s on his way to pick me up. We’ll have to continue this at a later date.”

She offers a pouty frown. “You were going to leave for work without me?”

He draws in a loud breath. “Yes, because I wanted you to sleep. You need it; you’ve been so restless since we got home. And plus, I have a proposition.”

One eyebrow arches. “Yes?”

“I’m thinking you should take the week off. Recharge yourself after the trip. It was tough on you mentally. You’ve more to deal with than me when it comes to truly understanding what those children have been through.”

She frowns. “Are you trying to hide me?”

He grins. “No. I just think you’d benefit from the relaxation. And, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt that I handle whatever fallout might still be lingering in the office after the newspaper ordeal. What do you think?”

She inclines her head to the ceiling and closes her eyes. It would be nice to take the week off and simply relax. Even now, the things she saw in Mongolia, the death of Andrew, Oyunbileg’s history, the terrible, terrible dreams that have racked her since, have added weight, if not to her body, to her soul. She peers back at Jet and nods slowly. “I think it’s a good idea. I’m really not ready to confront the office quite yet.”

He kisses her forehead, his lips still grazing her skin as he says, “I think you should use the time to make peace with your mother, too.”

Autumn pulls away from him and grins. “Aren’t you demanding this morning?”

He smiles, but she can see it’s strained. “I’m only thinking of you. You can’t be feeling great after leaving on such bad terms. While
things
are changing for you and you’re trying to cope with it, you may find her ear comforting.”

Autumn’s jaw clenches; she narrows her eyes. “It’s really up to her to make peace with me.”

Jet sighs. “Come on, Autumn. Does she even know you’re home from Mongolia?”

“Yes.”

Jet glares at her.

“I told Jordy. He would have told her I made it back safely.”

“That’s not the same and you know it. I really don’t want to be the cause of friction between you two.”

“You’re not the cause.”

“You know what I mean.”

Autumn closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. “Yes. I know what you mean. I’ll make peace, but only to keep the peace between you and me.”

He kisses her on the lips and his phone vibrates. “That’s Scott,” he says. “He’s waiting for me out front.” Jet pulls the low neckline of her negligee away from her chest and peeks down at her bare breasts. “We’ll definitely pick this up again later.”

She smiles. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Autumn dresses and catches a cab back to her apartment. Comfort oozes through her body and relaxes her. It feels safe, familiar, in her home. Jace has already left for work, so it leaves only her and Tae to catch-up—an intimate, bare conversation.

Though Autumn was gone for only ten days, she feels she has lived ten years on that trip to Mongolia and Tokyo, the details of which she shares with Tae while they eat Vegemite toast and drink instant coffee.

“You wanted to bring the baby home?” asks Tae, one eyebrow arched.

Autumn nods.

“And how did Jet feel about that?”

Autumn shrugs. “He said no, of course. It was a spontaneous request and I don’t think he gave it any weight. But in Japan, he sensed my seriousness and said he would adopt a baby with me, if that’s what I wanted.”

“But it would be such an immense responsibility caring for an orphan, and your relationship is still so new. What if he doesn’t stick around? I mean really, are you sure you would cope?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m not trying to be nasty. But these children are more challenging than your normal garden variety—they have development problems, trouble sleeping. And besides all that, I sense something’s different about you.”

“Really?”

Tae nods. “I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like maybe—maybe you’ve lost some of your strength.”

Autumn feels tears tightening the walls of her throat before they find their way to her eyes.
Is it that obvious?
She stands and turns her head before Tae can see the glaze of her eyes. Carrying her empty plate into the kitchen, she sucks in calming lungfuls of air and blinks rapidly. When she sits across from Tae again, she has regained a modicum of composure.

“I just feel stressed from all that’s happening with Jet and work and with my Mum.”

Tae nods. “Sure. That’s all it is. I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

Autumn is able to swallow most of her stubbornness, as she pulls into her parents’ driveway. Her mother is outside on the front doorstep before she has even disentangled herself from the seatbelt. She walks slowly to meet her.
Be more understanding. Be more understanding
.

“Hi, Mum,” she says, wrapping her arms quickly around Mrs Leone’s shoulders.