Turning to face the mountains where the clouds hung steely and low, Miki saw the faint suggestion of a rainbow. Real, or imagined through the mist of her tears, it didn’t matter. All she knew was that the river running through her, like the waters of the river up in the mountains, was rich and deep with life, anticipation and hope.

EPILOGUE

Epilogue

A month after the episode up in the forest, Leon racked his kayak on the roof of his car and drove down to the water. It was only five minutes from home, but somehow he had neglected to do this in all the months he’d been living here. Today, however, the water was calling to him and he couldn’t wait to put his boat in.

The drive took him past the footy field where so many dramas had played out this year. It took him through grassy farmlands springing with growth, past an old disused sawmill, an orchard bursting with lime-green leaves, and down a gravel road to the river. The estuary was so wide here it didn’t seem like a river at all—more like an inlet or a lake. He pulled up on a grassy bank and wondered if he had ever seen water so still and glassy, the clouds and sky so perfectly mirrored.

The river had been here all along, and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken advantage of it. Perhaps he’d been afraid of stirring his homesickness for Bruny Island, because he had missed it dreadfully when he first came here; he could admit that to himself now. He’d missed the quiet hiss of wavelets collapsing onto the flat grey shores of Adventure Bay. The wild Southern Ocean frothing against the cliffs down near the lighthouse. The peaceful paddling expeditions on the Channel, drifting among swans. He’d even missed carrying his boat across mudflats seething with crabs at low tide. But now the time was right to put his boat in here: on the other side of the Channel, where his new life was finally forming. He was still bruised and sore from his ordeal in the forest, but he was healing.

After parking close to the water, he hauled the kayak from the roof-racks and lugged it down to the shore. The river was like glass, and as he heard the soft swish of boat contacting water, it felt like coming home. He realised that putting the boat in was part of belonging; until now it hadn’t felt right.

Hanging on to the cockpit, he manoeuvred into the kayak and sat down gently without too much rocking. The boat dipped beneath him as if greeting his weight. They had forgotten how to be with each other, but it was coming back quickly.