Ember Flowers Read Free

It was none the more obvious
when the sun came up through the trees in the morning.
    Painting
shadows like blots of ink over the dusk tinted grass. Horses
nickered by the fence, two of them, recent purchases. Happily
snuffling the chaff with their whiskered chins and velvet
noses.
    She was alone,
but she liked that those two could keep each other company.
    An old
homestead completed the rural scene, perched atop a rolling tree
spotted dale. The view over the paddock and lower valley of
bushland quite spectacular. It was easier to take in those kinds of
details without the pauses for conversation. The vista helped fill
the silence. A long gravel drive led out to the road, dotted with
ghost gums, a towering avenue of white and green.
    It was quite
the commute to the city, a little under an hour. But that wasn’t
unusual. Those settling in newer estates out of town faced the same
drive each morning. She couldn’t complain, life had given her
roses, besides the odd, painful thorn.
    A steaming cup,
a click of the morning radio, and tanned legs extended out onto the
dark rattan of the table. She spent a lot of time out here on the
porch, looking out over a meandering embankment that led down to
the trees.
    Jean looked
over at her ute, it had rained overnight, she’d taken in the tools
to stave off the rust. From the front you couldn’t see the bald
metal skirting where the indicators used to be. The old grill
reminded her of a face, two headlights for eyes. It was silly to
give personality to a tool, but it had been with her a long time. Maybe the thump to the back was the hint she’d been
ignoring? A last repair before she would sell it for scrap.
    She mused,
sipping her coffee. It surprised her that the blonde woman had been
a cop. She should’ve known better than that. Obviously distracted,
not practising what they preached. The look on her face after they
hit looked like shock, even though it was only a nudge and broken
plastic.
    The gardener
wondered if she was really all right. Perhaps preoccupied by bad
news? She wondered if the leggy blonde had given it a second
thought, seemingly distant. Aside from the bill she’d have to pay
and the inconvenience. She pulled out her smart phone, thumb
flicking quickly through, checking her mail.
    Two from
Scottie, a lewd joke, the other a follow up from yesterday. Another
hit her inbox as she looked through. Another sip of her beverage, a
scrunch of her brows.
    ‘ Dear Ms
Patterson,
    My apologies
for yesterday, your repairs will be organised promptly. I have made
the necessary calls, you should be hearing from the garage today or
tomorrow.
    Drive
safely.
    Sergeant Joanne
Myers.’
    The email ended
with a signature the same as the card, station details and a direct
landline.
    “Hmm. Early
riser too.” She responded with quick taps of her roughened
fingertips.
    ‘ Dear
Joanne,
    Thanks for
being organised. Was concerned that your vehicle may have been
un-roadworthy after the damage done by mine.
    P.S - You need
to update your card, your title is different.
    P.P.S - My
mother was called Ms Patterson - I’m not that old - yet.
    Thanks,
    Jean
    The gardener
smirked and hit send. She placed the phone back on the black canvas
cushion beside her. Lacing her hands behind her head. A deep
breath, the air was fresher out here than in the city.
    A soft peep,
another email.
    “That was
quick.” Another little mutter to herself followed, with a self
deprecating roll of her eyes, talking to yourself was a sign of
going crazy . Scott always told her that, right after he
threatened to put her in a home. Prick.
    ‘ Dear
Jean,
    Yes, thanks to
your work ute I am now paying out a cool three grand. Lucky it
wasn’t the squad car, or I’d never live it down. Serves me right
for not watching the road.
    P.S - Yes, a
recent promotion. I will request new stationery.
    Regards,
    Joanne.’
    The older woman
smiled to herself. At least she had a sense of humour about it.
    Her coffee
savoured, a quick