The Summer of Secrets

by Barbara Hannay

  All her good clothes were packed, so she pulled on a faded grey T-shirt and a pair of capri pants that had once been white, but were now also closer to grey. A hasty brush through her hair would have to do. Slipping her feet into thongs, she went down the stairs, taking her time to inhale a few deep, calming breaths.

  She opened the door. Finn was still waiting. He had changed out of his work clothes and his dark hair was damp and tamed, as if he’d had a shower. He now wore a white shirt open at the neck and left to hang loose over pale-blue jeans. Ordinary clothes, she told herself, should not look so breathtakingly attractive.

  ‘How can I help you, Finn?’

  His smile was charming. ‘I was hoping I could come in.’

  Chloe hesitated.

  ‘I brought you this.’ He held out a small gift wrapped in expensive-looking red and gold paper.

  ‘Oh. Thank you.’ She was still standing in the doorway as she accepted his gift.

  ‘So —?’ He smiled at her again, lifted a questioning eyebrow.

  Chloe swallowed. He was waiting to be invited inside and it was ridiculous to feel so nervous about a man she worked with every day.

  She stepped back. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He smelled clean, of soap, or perhaps a little aftershave. As Chloe turned and led him upstairs, she tried not to think about that other time when they had kissed each other senseless as they’d made this ascent. This was the first occasion Finn had been back in her flat since that night. But surely, after their recent conversations, he wasn’t expecting a repeat performance?

  In the kitchen, she set his gift, unopened, on the bench top. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’

  ‘Were you planning to have one?’

  ‘Perhaps a small one. Jess and I have an early start in the morning. I’m afraid I only have white wine. Will that do?’

  Finn nodded. ‘Thanks.’ He stood by the counter as she fetched the bottle and glasses.

  She felt ridiculously self-conscious and she kept her eyes lowered as she poured, watching the chilled wine frost the glass.

  ‘Chloe, what’s this?’

  Looking up, she discovered Finn holding an orange with a hypodermic syringe stuck into it.

  Oh, shit. Her face flooded with heat. ‘Um – I – um – I’m just practising.’

  ‘Dare I ask what you’re practising?’

  ‘Giving myself needles.’

  He frowned. ‘Do you have diabetes?’

  ‘No.’

  Finn continued to frown and look worried.

  ‘It’s just that I’m scared of needles, and I need to give myself injections to stimulate my hormone production, so I’m practising on oranges.’

  ‘I – I see.’ He still looked confused, which was understandable.

  ‘I want to have a baby. So I’m going to try for IVF.’ Chloe couldn’t believe she had actually told him this, but now that it was out, she felt better. Stronger. Perhaps he would finally understand why she wasn’t available for a casual affair.

  ‘Wow.’ He spoke very softly, still looking at the orange, turning it over slowly. When he looked up, his dark eyes held a suspicious sheen. ‘You’ll be a wonderful mother, Chloe.’

  Oh, Finn.

  Of all the things he might have said, this compliment was Chloe’s undoing. Her lips quivered, her mouth pulled out of shape. She lifted a hand to try to hold back the sobs welling in her throat.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she pleaded, and a moment later she was weeping. Helplessly.

  Finn reached her in an instant. His arms came around her, holding her close while she wept against his clean white shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she blubbered.

  ‘Don’t be.’ Gently, he stroked her hair. ‘I mean it. You’ll be a fantastic mum.’

  She felt compelled to explain her tears. ‘It’s just that the fellow I lived with in Sydney more or less told me I’d be a terrible mother. It hurt so much. And now – to have you say this —’ Her lips trembled again and more tears spilled.

  She swiped at her eyes. ‘I have to do it, Finn. I’m thirty-seven. By the time I get through the IVF process, I’ll be thirty-eight. And then there’s the nine months of pregnancy. I’ve waited so long and I feel like I’m running out of time.’

  Strands of her hair had fallen across her face and now Finn tucked them behind her ear. ‘You don’t have to justify your decision, Chloe. It sounds perfectly reasonable.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes.’ His mouth tilted in a rueful smile. ‘Unfortunately.’

  Now it was her turn to frown. ‘Why unfortunately?’

  ‘Because I came here to try to change your mind.’

  ‘What about?

  ‘Us.’

  Chloe gulped. ‘You want to keep me as a sort of mistress?’

  ‘No, actually. I’d much prefer to keep you as a sort of partner.’

  Her knees almost gave way. Surely she wasn’t hearing correctly? ‘Partner? Not to live with you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Finn’s smile was a tad sad. ‘I know you think I’m commitment shy, but I’m not, really.’

  ‘But you’re – you’re grieving. You’re not ready for —’

  She was still searching for the right word when Finn continued.

  ‘I’ll admit it’s taken me a while to get over losing Sarah and Louis. I still miss them terribly and I imagine I’ll always miss them. They’re an important part of my life, of my past, so they’re also a part of who I am.’ Finn took Chloe’s hand in his, threaded his fingers with hers. ‘But I can’t live in the past forever.’

  His eyes shimmered again as he smiled. ‘I’ve already lost one woman I loved and that time it wasn’t my fault. I’d hate to lose the woman I love now because I didn’t speak up.’

  Love. He’d used the word ‘love’.

  ‘I want to look to the future now, Chloe, and I was hoping you might think about sharing it with me.’

  Chloe was glad he was holding her hands or she might have stumbled. This still seemed too good to be true. She couldn’t help asking, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Couldn’t be surer. I’ve been thinking of little else but how clever and kind and damn sexy you are, and how much I need you.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. ‘Bree and I both need you, Chloe. Believe it or not, I’ve even been thinking about the possibility that you might want a child of your own.’

  She let out a huff of shock, of incredulous relief. ‘So – so you wouldn’t mind if I still went ahead with the IVF?’

  ‘No,’ he said with reassuring promptness. ‘Although it might be even better if we could organise to have our own child naturally.’

  ‘But – you can’t. Haven’t you had the snip?’

  ‘I have, but at the time, the doctor made it clear that the procedure is almost certainly reversible.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness.’ Quite overcome by surprise, by unbelievable joy, Chloe had no choice but to throw herself into Finn’s arms.

  As he held her close against his warm, solid chest, she heard his heart beating beneath her ear and she savoured a moment of perfect happiness.

  ‘I can’t quite believe this,’ she whispered.

  ‘Neither can I,’ said Finn. ‘I thought I could never be happy again, but you’ve worked a kind of magic, you clever, clever girl.’

  She lifted her face to look at him, to try to explain the true depth of her feelings, but there was no need for words, for Finn kissed her now. And she returned his kiss, fervently, with open lips and a singing heart and with her arms wound tightly around him.

  She had never known a kiss so filled with joy, with perfect sweetness and promise. It was ages before they finally paused for breath, and she was grinning madly, while her eyes brimmed once again with tears.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m so hopelessly soppy,’ she said with a shaky laugh.

  Finn smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Soppiness suits you.’

  She bru
shed at the tears with her fingers. She supposed she should search for a tissue. On the kitchen bench beside them, their wineglasses sat untouched beside Finn’s Christmas present. She eyed the pretty wrapping.

  ‘I should open that, Finn.’

  ‘Later.’ With sudden impatience, he pulled her back to him. ‘I can tell you what it is.’ He trailed sweet kisses over her neck.

  ‘What?’ she asked in a breathless whisper.

  ‘A coloured-glass-bead necklace made by a local artist.’ Closing her eyes, she pressed closer to him again. ‘It sounds lovely.’

  ‘I hope you’ll like it. Bree said I should give you jewellery.’

  ‘Clever Bree,’ Chloe murmured. Then, with a uneasy prickle of guilt, she opened her eyes and looked up. ‘Where is Bree?’

  ‘At Emily’s. Jess and Willow are there as well. They’re having a final visit before Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great. Perfect.’

  ‘Emily asked me to invite you to join them, but I think she was rather hoping we’d be better occupied here.’

  ‘Emily knows – about us?’

  ‘She seems to have an inkling.’

  Chloe grinned. Soon the whole of Burralea would have more than an inkling about her and Finn, and the best thing was, she knew the townsfolk would be almost as happy as she was.

  They kissed again, and now she felt peace settle alongside their fever and urgency, the confident knowledge that their new life started from this moment.

  EPILOGUE

  The school bus pulled to a stop beside a paddock perched high on a hill. From here, sloping green dairy land spilled, offering views to the east, all the way to the majestic purple peaks of Mount Bartle Frere.

  ‘Bye, Bree,’ youthful voices called, as the gangly teenager alighted from the bus, sidestepping a muddy puddle left by recent rains.

  ‘Byeee,’ she called back, waving and grinning to her friends.

  The bus took off and a rusty-headed boy turned to look back through the rear window, sending Bree a smile and a thumbs-up salute. As he did so, she felt a strange little flip in her chest. Then she bit down on her lip to stop herself from grinning too happily.

  If her friends knew she was sweet on Sam Peterson, they would be onto her like sniffer dogs. Any whiff of romance and the gossip would go viral.

  This was a minor problem though. Generally, Bree was loving her new school. She’d been relieved to discover that the teachers were excellent, the kids friendly, and there was even a debating team, which she adored. Of course, the fact that Sam Peterson was also in the debating team was in no way connected to her enjoyment.

  Now, as the bus disappeared, Bree heard the beep of a text message, the regular text message she received every afternoon from either Chloe or her dad.

  Hope you’re home safe. Can you check the slow cooker and perhaps turn it down to low? Still at work, but home soon. C xx

  Bree smiled and sent back a quick reply.

  Will do. C u soon. B xx

  As she loped the last few metres along the road to her house, she could see her half-grown puppy, Black Velvet, waiting at the five-barred gate, her tail wagging so fast it was a blur.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous girl!’ She greeted her dog with a cuddle and allowed herself to be enthusiastically licked. ‘Walkies later, okay?’

  Bree needed her afternoon tea first. By the end of the school day she was always famished. Chloe said it was because she was growing so fast.

  Bree checked the letterbox. Along with a couple of bills, there was a letter addressed to her – and it wasn’t from her grandma, but from her old school. Curious, she let herself into the house and went straight to the kitchen, the heart of their new home that she especially loved, with views out through a wall of windows all the way down the valley.

  Leaving the mail on the kitchen counter, she checked the slow cooker, as Chloe had asked, turned it down and then made herself a cheese sandwich and a glass of Milo. Settling on a kitchen stool, she slit open the envelope addressed to her. It was from her old English teacher, Mrs Marlowe.

  Just as Mrs M had promised over a year ago, she had forwarded the letter that Bree had written in class to herself. The letter was still safely sealed inside another envelope addressed to Bree in her own handwriting. And there was a note.

  Dear Bree,

  I hope you are now happily settled in your new school, and I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into your past. It can be helpful to think about how much you’ve changed in just one year. I’m sure you’re doing very well and your new English teacher is very lucky to have you in his (or her) class.

  Keep writing,

  and kindest regards,

  Jenny Marlowe

  Bree’s throat felt a bit tight as she thought about Mrs M and her boarding roommate Abbey and the other friends at her old school. Before nostalgia took hold, however, she slit the envelope and pulled out the handwritten pages, took a bite of her sandwich and began to read.

  Dear Bree,

  Hey, dude, if you’re still alive when you read this, you’ll be a teenager by now. Do you have pimples yet? I hope not.

  Do you feel any different? More grown up? It sure would be good if your mood has improved.

  Yikes. Bree read on, but she was struck, after just a few paragraphs, by how sad she’d been back then, and what a baby, too, worrying about whether her boobs would grow and whether Joshua Cook even knew she existed.

  Joshua Who? she thought now with a bemused smile.

  Reading the letter brought it all back – how badly she had missed her dad and how hard it had been to tough it out at school, to pretend she was as happy and carefree as the other girls. A year ago, she could never have imagined she would be so truly happy now. She actually felt sorry for the girl who’d written that letter, especially the bit about her mum and Louis and how she hadn’t wanted to go to the cemetery …

  Last week, on that same sad anniversary, Bree and her dad had taken his canoe out into the middle of the lake. They’d gone at night, after dinner, when the sky was filled with a gazillion stars.

  The stars were reflected in the water, so the lake had looked as if it was filled with them too. And sitting there, with the canoe rocking gently in the sparkling darkness, Bree and her dad had talked about her mum and Louis. They had shared their favourite memories – especially their holiday on Magnetic Island when they’d snorkelled among coral fish and then built a barbecue on the beach, and her mum had strummed her guitar while the moon rose over the sea.

  They remembered Louis as a cheeky toddler discovering the joy of playing with a hose, spraying water over everyone and making them squeal. They remembered him dancing with over-the-top excitement when he got a robot dog for Christmas.

  Bree told her dad of her shame that she’d yelled at Louis just before he died, for something as silly as messing up the icing on her birthday cake. Her dad told her that he had regrets, too.

  ‘But we shouldn’t let our regrets spoil our happy memories,’ he said.

  And then he recounted one of Bree’s favourite stories, of how excited he and her mother had been when she was born.

  ‘Mum thought you were the most beautiful baby ever created,’ he said. ‘She wanted you to be happy, Bree. It’s all she ever wanted for you. And I know, she would want us both to be happy.’

  It was a big thought to take in, because just thinking about her mother always made her sad. But Bree did understand that staying sad forever was a waste of the life her mother had given her.

  As this thought settled inside her, she scooped a handful of water, making the stars shatter into tiny glittering shards of light. She said, ‘Mum would like Chloe, Dad. I think she’d be pleased to know we have someone as lovely as Chloe making us both happy.’

  At first her father didn’t answer and Bree was terrified that she had said the wrong thing, that she’d made him cry. When at last he spoke, his voice was rough around the edges.

  ‘Chloe’s going to have a baby, Bree.’
>
  ‘A what?’ Bree was so stunned and excited she almost rocked the canoe and sent them tumbling into the water.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ her dad asked, as if he was worried.

  ‘No. Of course I don’t mind. That’s amazing. It’s wonderful.’

  Suddenly Bree remembered the clues she’d overlooked – the fact that Chloe had stopped drinking wine some time back, and there had been mornings when she couldn’t face breakfast. Wow! It really was happening. She would be a big sister again. And Chloe would be a mother. An absolutely awesome mother to some lucky little kid.

  ‘It’s just the most perfect news ever, Dad.’ Then, in case she had missed another important clue, Bree asked, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  In the faint light, she saw his happy smile. ‘Of course I don’t. I’m over the moon.’ Gently, he added, ‘I love, Chloe, Bree. So much.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad, I know,’ she said. ‘So do I. I’m so over the moon for her.’

  They laughed then and looked up at the moon, shining like a silver queen, with the many stars as her subjects. The night was so beautiful with its lake of shining stars, as if the heavens had reached down to touch them with a promise of beauty and hope.

  ‘Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl?’ Bree asked.

  Her dad shook his head. ‘Chloe’s had scans and tests to make sure everything’s okay, but we’ve decided we don’t want to know the baby’s sex. It’s kind of fun to keep it a surprise.’

  Bree grinned. ‘A surprise! That makes it even more perfect.’ She reached for her oar. ‘But we’d better get back, don’t you think?’

  This news was way too exciting to remain sitting sedately in a canoe. She needed to dance a happy jig, to hug Chloe, to make sure she was okay.

  ‘Good idea,’ her father said, and they rowed for the shore, eager to reach home.

  Time to go home.

  In the Bugle office, Chloe was smiling as she shut down her computer. At any moment, Finn would arrive back from covering the council meeting and together they would drive home to their house perched on a misty hillside where Bree and Black Velvet and a slow-cooked casserole awaited them.