The Summer Sisters

by Lilly Mirren

  “Let’s go, the guests are getting hungry,” she cried as she stepped into the bleak looking kitchen.

  Staff looked up at her, seeming unsure of what to do.

  “Let’s fill up the buffet, keep everyone’s plates full, get them drinks…whatever we can do to keep them happy,” she said.

  Servers sprang to action, and Kate reached for a pair of gloves, tugged them on and then found a tray of croissants that needed slicing. It would be a challenge to manage everything without their usual conveniences, but they’d do it, somehow. After all, challenge was the spice of life. Or was it variety? She couldn’t remember, but it sounded right either way.

  By the time breakfast was over, Kate had realised she’d have to cut her kitchen staff in half for the duration of the renovation. They simply couldn’t afford to have waiters standing around twiddling their thumbs.

  They’d noticed a downturn in bookings as well, since they’d asked travel agents to let guests know about the construction being done and the cold breakfasts. But the slower pace suited their needs, for now. As long as bookings picked up again after the restaurant was completed, it should all work out. Kate sat at the kitchen table and nibbled a fingernail.

  The kitchen table was piled high with containers that’d contained croissants, muffins, and cereals, but were now mostly empty. Everything had been washed, dried, and stacked away. A large plastic sheet acted as a curtain between where she sat and the construction. The entire wall of the kitchen had been demolished and the inn exposed to the elements along one side as they extended the kitchen out onto where the verandah had been.

  Just watching their progress had given her a tension headache. Bubbles of nerves and excitement competed in her gut.

  “How’d it go?” asked Bindi, rounding the corner.

  Kate shrugged. “Fine. I’m going to have to give some of the servers time off.”

  “That makes sense,” replied Bindi, sitting beside Kate.

  “I’ll give them a call later.”

  “Okay.”

  Kate studied Bindi’s face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her skin pale. Her sister sighed deeply, and it stirred Kate’s already frazzled nerves. Something was wrong. Had the cancer returned?

  “What’s going on?” asked Kate.

  Bindi met her gaze. “Do you know where Reeda is?”

  “I think she’s outside checking on the horses.”

  “I need to talk to both of you.”

  Kate’s heart fell. “Okay.”

  “Let’s go outside to sit, somewhere quiet.”

  “We might have to go to the cove to get some peace.”

  They found Reeda by the stables and the three of them trudged through the sand and down to the cove. They found a long, smooth rock to sit on that looked out across the waves and perched on it, side by side.

  Reeda and Kate exchanged a worried glance.

  “There’s something I have to tell you both,” began Bindi, “but before I get any further, I can tell from the looks on your face you think it’s my health — it’s not.”

  Kate released the breath she’d been holding in her lungs. “Really?”

  “No,” said Bindi with a smile. “I’m fine, it’s not about me.”

  “Thank heavens!” blurted Reeda. “You had me worried.”

  “Everything’s still fine, I’m still in remission. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

  Kate leaned forward, tucking one foot beneath her.

  “We’ve all been reading Nan’s journals and Charlie’s letters to her,” Bindi began. “We’ve become invested in their story, their journey. All three of us have wondered, countless times, what happened to Charlie, how he got those letters to Nan and why we’d never heard about him before Nan died.”

  Kate nodded. “Yes, definitely. It’s an intriguing and frustrating mystery.”

  Reeda sighed. “I even flew to Italy to find him…no luck there.”

  “But you came close,” added Bindi.

  Reeda shrugged. “I guess, I certainly found out more about him and where he’d been. It was fascinating.”

  “Well,” continued Bindi, “I’ve found him.”

  “What?!” exclaimed both sisters at once.

  “Where?” asked Reeda.

  Bindi smiled. “Right here at the inn.”

  Kate’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s Jack.”

  “It’s Jack what?” asked Reeda, her head cocked to one side.

  “Jack is Charlie Jackson,” said Bindi.

  Kate’s heart rate accelerated; her head felt light. “What? Jack — our Jack — is Charlie?”

  “Yes. I found out yesterday and have been looking for a time to tell you both. He confirmed it. And there’s more…”

  “More?” Reeda’s eyes bulged.

  “Yes, he and Nan were married for four years before she died.”

  Kate’s gaze wandered to the horizon. A gull cawed, dipping its wings as it sailed over the water. Charlie was Jack, and Jack was Charlie. That didn’t make sense. And yet it did all at the same time. That made Jack…her grandfather.

  Her eyes narrowed. Why didn’t he say anything? All these years he’d been living close by, working with all of them. He’d shared meals with them, laughed with them, cried with them. He’d had countless opportunities to bring it up.

  Kate launched to her feet and headed for the stables. She’d seen Jack there, tending to the horses when they’d stopped to collect Reeda. If he was there still, she’d confront him, ask him all the questions that’d been swirling in her head from the first moment she’d read his name in Nan’s journal.

  “Kate! Kate! Where are you going?” Bindi called after her.

  Kate didn’t reply, kept on stomping through the sand, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She could hear Reeda and Bindi murmuring together over something.

  “We’re coming too!” Reeda’s voice echoed up the beach.

  Kate didn’t care. They could come if they wanted, but she was having a word with the man who’d walked her down the aisle at her wedding and yet hadn’t thought to mention the fact that he was her grandfather.

  He was in the stables, breaking up a bale of hay to scatter in the stalls. Jack glanced up and sent her a wide smile that slowed her pace a little. He was Jack. And he was Charlie.

  She faced him, her throat already closing over before she’d said a word. She cleared it with a cough. He crossed his arms over his chest, a quizzical look on his face. When Bindi came puffing up beside her, realisation dawned across his features like the sunrise.

  “I see you’ve heard,” he said.

  Kate’s entire body trembled and her words wobbled as they came out. “You…you are Charlie Jackson? Our grandfather?”

  He inhaled a quick breath. “Yes, I am.”

  “And you never thought it might be something we’d like to know?” cried Kate.

  Bindi slumped onto a bale of hay.

  Jack’s lips pursed. “I’m sorry, Kate. Sorry to you all. I should’ve said something…but things were complicated.”

  “You can say that again…” murmured Reeda.

  Kate glared at her. “Not so complicated. ‘Hey girls, I’m your long-lost grandfather.’ Would that have been so hard?”

  “I didn’t know you had Edie’s journals and letters. I thought it’d come as a complete surprise to discover Paul wasn’t your kin, not by blood anyway. He’d been your grandfather, and he wasn’t around any longer… Edie and I didn’t want to ruin that for you girls. You’d lost so much already.”

  Kate’s face crumpled and tears slid down her cheeks. “Ruin it? You couldn’t ruin it. How can having another family member be a bad thing? We thought we had no one. Just the three of us. And now we find out we have another grandparent. And of all people, it’s you — our Jack.”

  His face shone, he opened his arms and Kate ran into them. She cried against his chest as he patted her back.

  �
��There, there,” he said. “I wish…well, there are so many things I wish I’d done differently. So many regrets that I’ve learned not to dwell on them. You can’t live your life holding onto a past that never was. You can’t go around wishing your days away. So, I try not to hold onto the things I should’ve done. Instead, I live each day, enjoy the moment I’m in. And right now, I’m really glad you girls know the truth, that I’ve got my granddaughters here with me.”

  Reeda and Bindi joined in the embrace then. Arms tangled, tears fell, soon replaced by laughter as they all began to lose their balance in the mishmash of limbs.

  “We’re glad too,” sniffled Reeda.

  “I still can’t believe it,” added Bindi. “And yet, there’s a part inside of me that feels as though I’ve always known.”

  Kate knew what she meant. She’d always had a close connection to Jack. He’d been a part of the family for years, and now they knew he was related by blood as well. The part she couldn’t wrap her head around was the marriage. That Nan wouldn’t tell them she’d gotten married made her heart hurt.

  She pulled out of the embrace, wiped her eyes dry with the back of her hand. “Why didn’t Nan tell us you were married?”

  Jack shrugged. “She wanted to.”

  “I don’t understand that part either,” added Reeda.

  “I can’t pretend to know everything that ran through your grandmother’s mind,” said Jack with a chuckle. “But I do know this, she loved the three of you and would have done anything to protect you, to shield you from pain. She wanted the best for you. I know she wanted to tell you the truth, we’d discussed it a lot before she died.”

  “So why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t she talk to us? There were so many things she kept from us…” Kate’s voice cracked, she sobbed.

  He hesitated, inhaled a slow breath. “At first, she avoided it, after the accident she thought the three of you had enough to deal with. Then, time passed, and it seemed harder to her somehow. I think she was worried how you’d react. Finally, when we were married, we agreed you should know - but Edie was waiting to see you all in person, didn't want to do it over the phone. I guess she waited too long.”

  The truth tore at Kate’s heart. It was her own fault Nan hadn’t confided in her. All those years Nan asked her if she’d visit, when she’d be able to make the trip to Cabarita, and Kate had pushed back. She was busy. Had things to do in Brisbane. Soon. Not yet. If she’d made the trip, if all of them had agreed to come for a visit, perhaps Nan might’ve told them about Charlie Jackson.

  30

  June 1982

  Cabarita Beach

  The kitchen was clean, the cottage tidy. There was nothing more to be done. Charlie fidgeted, staring through the kitchen window over his new deck.

  It hadn’t taken him long to build the cottage, only a few months, while he worked as the maintenance man at the inn. They’d chosen the clearing where they’d parked for their first date, the picnic at the beach, as the site for his home. It seemed right, and the location was perfect. He had an outlook most people would die for, directly onto a small private beach.

  The house was set back from the shore far enough not to be in any danger of king tides. The dunes and a steep bank separated him from the stretch of sand that curved around like a sliver of moon.

  Excitement buzzed in his stomach.

  Today was the day.

  Keith, Mary, and the girls were visiting. They’d driven up from Sydney two days earlier and were camped out at the inn. He’d gotten to know them a little over the Christmas period, when they’d stayed at the inn for two weeks. Still, they’d thought of him as the new handyman, not as part of their family.

  They’d been warm, welcoming, friendly…but it wasn’t the same. He’d spent Christmas day with Stefano and Amara in Brisbane. They’d had a lovely day, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the family he was missing. His daughter had called, the phone call brief. He hated that they were so far apart, but she seemed to be doing better than ever. She was thriving. She’d announced she and her husband were expecting a baby halfway through the next year. Could he come?

  He’d told her he’d be there, of course he would. He wouldn’t miss welcoming his grandchild into the world. He’d already missed so much.

  But today things would change. Edie had promised they would talk to Keith and Mary. Mima was out for the day, having fun with friends somewhere or other, and there were no guests at the inn. It would be him, Edie, and the family. And they’d finally get to hear the truth about who he was, and who they were to him.

  It’d be a shock for Keith at first, but Charlie hoped, in time, he’d come around. That maybe they’d be able to build a relationship. Go fishing together. Talk. Share their lives.

  He’d missed out on so much of Keith’s life. If he could only share in a little of it…

  He pulled the door shut behind him, climbed into the truck, and headed down the long, winding track he called a driveway. He’d built a gate close to the inn, to discourage guests from heading that way. A sign accompanied the gate. So far, it’d worked to keep the track free of pedestrians.

  Once he was through the gate, his heart crashed against his ribcage with every beat. His stomach churned. Nerves mingled with excitement as he parked the truck behind the garage and climbed out.

  Edie was nervous too. He could tell. The last time they’d seen each other she’d barely spoken. She hated to hurt Keith and thought it might drive a rift between them. Charlie had embraced her then and told her she should trust that their love was stronger than that. After all, she was his mother and had raised him and cared for him every day of his young life. He wouldn’t blame her for protecting his connection with Paul.

  When he stepped into the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was the silence.

  Why was it so quiet? Perhaps the family had gone for a walk along the beach. It was a cool day, a noon stroll along the cove would be a nice way to pass the time. Although, Edie had said she was putting together a special lunch for them all, so they could sit and eat together before the discussion began.

  Yet, the kitchen was empty. Still. Every surface gleamed, and there was no food set out on the bench tops. No dirty dishes in the sink. It was as though there was no one around.

  His brow furrowed and the pounding of his heart slowed. She’d changed her mind. Edie had decided they wouldn’t have the talk today. She’d backed out of it. He sighed. He should’ve seen this coming. She hadn’t wanted to do it at all, and he’d convinced her it was the right thing.

  He leaned against the bench, crossed his arms, and stared out the kitchen window. From where he stood, he could see the edge of the garage. A taillight, orange and covered in dust poked from the enclosure.

  He frowned. That was Edie’s truck.

  Charlie walked outside, peered around the end of the inn. That was definitely Edie’s truck. But there was no sign of Keith’s vehicle. Perhaps they’d all ridden together in the minivan.

  He walked back inside, his heart heavy. Then, he heard a thump, or a bang. It came from upstairs. He glanced up the staircase, perhaps it was nothing. That reminded him, he should check on the rat traps in the attic.

  With a sigh, he decided to knock on Edie’s door before he headed back to the cottage. It was possible she was in there, though he doubted she’d be hidden away with her grandchildren visiting. She loved her grandchildren more than anything. Whenever he’d seen her with the girls, she was always chattering, fixing hair, laughing at jokes, joining in with whatever they were doing. He imagined she would’ve been a good mother to their son. He wished he’d been around to see it.

  When he raised his knuckles to rap on Edie’s door, he was surprised to find it creaked open. Inside, it was completely dark. It wasn’t like Edie to leave the draperies shut all day long. With a frown, he stepped inside and strode to the windows to pull the curtains wide, letting the light flood in.

  When he did that, he noticed the covers on t
he bed were mussed. Then he saw her. Edie lay on the bed, the covers twisted around her, knees tucked up to her chest.

  “Edie?”

  He ran to the side of the bed and knelt next to her with his eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Honey, what’s going on? Why are you in bed? Are you hurt?”

  Tears had streaked her cheeks but were now dry. The only relic of their presence the redness of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. Her gaze was fixed on the bathroom door, her hands cradled beneath her pillow.

  “Edie! Edie, talk to me.” He was frustrated, afraid. He’d never seen her like that before. Adrenaline spiked as his breaths came in gasps. What had happened, something bad obviously. But if she didn’t tell him, didn’t open up to him, he couldn’t help her, couldn’t do anything to soothe whatever pain she was feeling.

  He stroked the side of her face, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

  Her gaze travelled to his face, her eyes empty. “Keith and Mary…” she began, her face crumpling with the words. “They were killed in a car accident last night.”

  He fell onto his rear on the hardwood floor as though he’d been punched in the chest. His mouth opened but no sound emerged. It couldn’t be true. That was too much, too ugly, too cruel. He’d only met his son for the first time six months earlier, was about to talk to him, embrace him for the first time today. And now he was gone.

  No.

  “No!” he cried.

  On the bed, Edie began to wail. Her voice was filled with terror, sorrow, pain, and heartache. He couldn’t bear the sound. He covered his ears with both hands as his back pressed to the wall. His throat closed over and he felt he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He should’ve died, so many times. His son was young, with so much life ahead of him, and Mary too. In their brief time together, he’d learned to love her already. She was a wonderful mother to the three girls.