And without a shred of false modesty, and she knew they all worked brilliantly together – and that was here, scattered around the walls of her studio. Adorning the walls of Evan’s gallery, they’d look even better.
No wonder the blood in her veins almost fizzed. Now she only had to work out a name for the collection. She’d been intending to call it Harvest because of the fruit and vegetables that featured so predominantly in her work – but then there were now the pictures of Caleb too, to consider.
She moved in front of the series of four – of him standing with his back to her right here in this studio, of him in the shower under a stream of water, and one of him pulling on a shirt over his shoulders, and finally, the one of him lying satiated and spent across her rumpled bed – and she could feel the irresistible tug of his physicality, the tight bunches of his muscles, the corded strength in his neck and the sculpted washboard of his abs, and it surprised her how much they reminded her of making love with him and how much she wanted to right now.
And it came to her then, the only name the exhibition could be.
Texture.
And she picked up her phone again to call him up to tell him, when she stopped herself short. And she called another number on her phone, and waited impatiently for it to be picked up.
“Evan,” she said, when it was, and because she’d needed to tell somebody, “I’ve got great news.”
The next day at the station was filled with routine upon routine. There was a shit load of stuff that needed cleaning and restocking after the huge fire, and Caleb spent what felt like a heap of time filling out reports too, all of which some desk jockey at head office would collate and pull together so the industrial waste fire and response could be analysed and picked apart so they could learn what worked and what didn’t and do better next time. And while it was a bit of a pain doing the reports, getting the results was another one of the things about this job Caleb loved. You never stopped learning. You never stopped getting prepared for the next incident.
And routine felt pretty good right now. It had been an exhausting and testing few days after which routine was a welcome change. It was luxury to have time to catch up and think. And Ava’s texts were part of the mix, and every now and then they’d do another lap around his head. Had she seen the smoke and the reports in the news, to reach out to him that way? Had she heard some firefighters had needed to be taken to hospital and she’d been worried about him?
Had she’d gone away to think like he’d asked her to?
God, so long as he lived, he’d never understand women.
Mike came looking for Caleb right about the time he was getting changed to knock off.
Mike leaned up against the door frame of the change room. “Couple of things I’ve got to tell you,” he said, his face serious. “I’ve had word from above that this investigation into the Victorian bushfires might be coming to an end. Looks like they’ll be making a report in a couple of months or so.”
Caleb’s ears pricked up, searching Mike’s words for any hint of optimism, finding none. “And?” he prompted.
“That’s all I’ve got.”
“There’s no word on any preliminary findings yet?”
“Not that anyone’s telling me.” He sighed. “Sorry, Caleb. I know how wrong it is – Leonard Knight was a bloody legend, for god’s sake. To go out with this hanging over his head...” He shook his head.
Caleb nodded. Yeah, well, they’d waited this long for a result already. It would be worth the wait if their grandfather was cleared.
He stood up to go. “Thanks Mike. See you when I’m back on deck.”
But Mike wasn’t going anywhere. He shuffled on the spot where he stood. “You might want to sit down again. There’s something else.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve had a call,” he said, the creased lines around his eyes looking that bit deeper. “From Dave O’Dwyer – the husband of that crash victim you cut out the wreck. He’s ready to meet you now.”
Caleb sat down on a long sigh. So it was going to happen then? Because sometimes people said they wanted to meet up afterwards – after the formalities and sometimes the funeral – and then they got on with life, and they either forgot or they didn’t want to go back. It didn’t bother Caleb whichever it was because it was their loss, their grief and if they wanted to leave it there, that was fine. He’d just happened to be there on the day when their lives had unexpectedly intersected. He’d just been doing his job and it hadn’t just been him. There’d been a whole team working to save lives.
“What about the rest of crew?”
Mike rapped his knuckles on the door frame. “I know, I know. But he just wants you apparently. Got something to talk to you about, one-on-one. He wants to set up a time for tomorrow.” Mike looked a bit sheepish then. “I did warn him that you were starting four days off...”
Caleb sighed, knowing it was going to be heartrending whenever it happened, so the sooner the better as far as he was concerned. “If it suits, I can be there at ten.”
Which was how Caleb found himself the next morning, knocking on a door next to a dying pot plant on the front verandah of a tiny terrace house in the inner suburb of Norwood.
A barefoot, frazzled-looking guy opened the door wearing shorts and a messy T-shirt with
