‘Hannah.’ Even her name was supple—a breathy H and what followed rolled right off the tongue. Lush mouth, soft tongue, caress-me-again-and-again-and-again curves.
I groaned and slapped my board.
Ocean, surfboard, work. Ocean, surfboard, work. Then I was out of here.
Chapter 3
Hannah
Thunder rolled in before the sun had showed itself—deep, grumbling groans that echoed across the heavens, sometimes so loud the windows shuddered. The rain was close behind, starting as a gentle patter on the tin roof. It was soothing and I fell back to sleep, rocked by the calming sound.
I woke to whistling wind and the wet spray of rain on my arm.
It should not be raining inside my bedroom.
I jumped out of bed, feet splatting onto the puddle pooling on the timber flooring. The dried wounds on my knees split, pushing pain all the way up my leg, and dripping with fresh blood.
‘You’re kidding me!’ I yelled, nearly tripping over boxes still filling my bedroom that I hadn’t got to unpacking. I needed a bucket. I looked up to the ceiling through sleep-blurred eyes. A large wet patch was visible and, in the centre, it had broken through completely, soggy plaster gaping and water haemorrhaging. I needed a big bucket. I dashed out the room, down the hall towards the laundry. My mop bucket was all I had, so I tossed my mop out and ran back to the bedroom.
The bucket filled within five minutes and I had to carry the heavy load to the kitchen sink, tip the water out and run back to my room to do it all over again. By the tenth time, I was puffing. My hands stung from my fall yesterday. My knees were bleeding and the bedroom smelled like a muddy pond.
Rain blasted against the windows, thick and unrelenting. Feral black clouds had settled low across the early morning sky. This was not going to be giving up any time soon. I grabbed my mobile from my dresser and googled maintenance services. Big Johnno’s Construction and Maintenance Services was the only business in town. My clock said 6.07 am.
Looks like Johnno is getting an early morning wake-up call.
A deep, gruff voice answered.
‘Um, hi, my name is Hannah. I know it’s early, but I need help. My roof is leaking. It’s filling buckets up quicker than I can empty them. Is it possible to get someone around?’
‘Your roof is leaking?’ he repeated, words thick with sleep.
‘Yes. Real bad.’ My throat was growing tight from imminent tears and it made my voice higher pitched. ‘I really need help. The house will be ruined—’
‘All right. Where do’ya live?’
‘3 Orchard Lane, just at the bottom of the hill—’
‘Old Jocey’s place?’
‘Um. Yeah. I’m her granddaughter.’
‘I’ll organise one of my blokes to get up there as soon as possible.’
I blew out a long sigh of relief. ‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.’
‘Probably won’t be able to do much other than throw a tarp over it for the time being, though. Not while this weather is around.’
‘That’s fine. A tarp will be fine. I just need something to stop the rain getting in.’
‘Hold tight, Hannah. Someone’ll be there soon.’
I emptied another five buckets, between dressing into something dry and brushing my teeth. Penny started barking from the back yard and a knock came at my door. ‘Thank goodness,’ I said under my breath.
Still slightly breathless from my last trip to the kitchen with the heavy bucket, I flung the door open.
Bear stood on my front porch, his hair a little wet, grinning. The rain was a hazy sheet behind him, the gushing sound loud in my ears. He wore khaki shorts, a tool belt around his waist, a collared black shirt and dusty boots. In the short time since I saw him yesterday, I’d forgotten how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, how pale and deep his eyes were. He was right about Mercy Island being a small town.
‘I was told you have a leak,’ he said.
My god, it sounded like the start to a porno.
I blinked, the trance breaking, and gestured he come in. ‘Yes. A rather big one, unfortunately.’ I squeezed my eyes shut and internally groaned. Definitely a porno.
He wiped his boots on the door mat and followed me inside.
‘I’m sorry to get you out of bed,’ I said, leading him past the mess and boxes strewn over the lounge room floor.
‘I was already up. Thought I might’ve been able to get a surf in before work, but it was too choppy.’
We rounded into my bedroom, both of us finding space between the boxes, puddles and bucket.
‘Hmmm,’ he said, focus drawn to the gaping ceiling. ‘I’ll get a tarp over it as quick as I can, but I won’t be able to start fixing the damage until the rain stops.’
I nodded. ‘Johnno mentioned that. That’s fine. Just do what you need to do.’
He tramped back outside to his ute. I didn’t go with him, instead I watched from the dry lounge room as he pressed a ladder to the guttering of the house and, with a big blue tarp and rope over his shoulder, climbed onto the roof. Fifteen minutes later he was climbing back down, saturated. His shirt clung to his chest and back, and his hair was hanging limp and dripping around his face and neck. When he stood again in the frame of the front door with his tall muscled body, every slope visible thanks to his tightly clinging clothes, my breath was stolen from my lungs, my words hampered.
‘All done,’ he said, running his hand over his fringe, pushing the wet strands from his forehead.
I stared.
‘Did you want me to take a look at the damage while I’m here? I could give you a quote for repairs.’
I cleared my throat. ‘Um. Thanks. Yes. A quote would be great.’
He hesitated at the door. He was breathtaking standing there, dripping all over the front porch, looking at me with those emerald eyes. Tall, lean, wet. Wet? ‘I … I’ll grab you a towel.’
He grinned with half his mouth, though both dimples flashed like big bright lights. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
I grabbed him a towel from my linen cupboard and met him back at the doorway. He yanked his shirt over his head, the sexy way that men do where they pull it from the back first, arms in the air. My gaze strayed to his defined abs and the way his shorts and tool belt hung loosely on his hips. Then upwards to the sparse tuft of hair on his thick chest. I blinked and lowered my gaze to my feet, warmth creeping over my face as he grabbed the towel from my fingers and quickly dried himself down. Shirtless.
‘Um, would you like me to throw your shirt in the dryer?’
He smiled at me. ‘Yes please.’
I took care of his shirt in the laundry while he inspected the damage. When I made it back to the bedroom, he was standing on a step ladder, his head in the ceiling. Still very much shirtless.
He shined the torch into the roof cavity and looked around in silence. All the while my heart was thudding hard and erratic.
‘What a mess. This leak has obviously been around for a while. The trusses and battens are splintered and black from rot.’ He shook his head and muttered, ‘Stubborn old Jocey.’
‘Not good?’
He peered down at me. ‘I told Jocey to let me get up here years ago. She always thought she was putting me out. I’m sorry, but it’s a hell of a mess.’
I sighed. My heart beat faster.
‘The water damage isn’t localised. I can see a lot of mould and rotted battens along the length of the cavity. Particularly the section over the bed. There’s a lot of water up there.’ He climbed down the ladder and pointed up to the ceiling. ‘See the discolouration to the paint over the bed?’
I looked up and nodded. No missing the big grey blotch spreading across the ceiling.
‘I’m a little worried because Jocey left some boxes and wooden chests up there. If they’re full, I’m not sure the battens are strong enough to support the weight. I wouldn’t sleep in here tonight, just in case.’
A gentle quake had wor
ked its way to my hands. I did not want to be hearing this. ‘Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into?’
He stepped closer. ‘It’ll be okay. I’ll get it all fixed for you. No trouble whatsoever.’
My bottom lip was trembling. A tear spilled onto my cheek. I swiped it away.
Bear took another step closer, slower this time, his forehead creased.
‘I’ve made a big mistake thinking I could do this on my own.’ It was rambling, not directed at him.
He shook his head and opened his mouth only to shut it. Finally he said, ‘Your move here?’
More tears. ‘This house. This new life. On my own.’ I wiped the sleeve of my shirt over my cheeks, removing the ridiculous damp. ‘Yes. The move. Everything.’
‘It’s just a leaking roof. I see them all the time. I’ll have it fixed in—’
A loud creaking sounded from behind, followed by a soggy smash, thump, and a gush of water. I leapt backwards. It was so loud, my first thought was that the wind had finally ripped a section of the roof off. I looked up. ‘Oh. My. God.’
The ceiling had fallen through right on top of my bed. I eyed the mess and chaos in what was once my semi-orderly bedroom, now a crumbled mass of plaster, boxes, and dirty, stale water. It smelled of mud and mould. I stared at Bear, lips parted, unable to speak. My heart was thundering. He stared back, brows arched. Seconds passed as my focus darted from Bear to the mess behind.
This was a joke. It had to be. My fourth day on my own, ever, and I was dealing with this shit. I wanted to scream, but I could barely draw enough air into my lungs to force the sound. Again, I looked at the enormous hole in my ceiling and back to Bear’s face. He was like a stunned fish, his mouth and eyes wide as he waited, watching, to see how I would react. And that’s all I could envision, his lips flapping open and shut like a fish. I was delirious, surely, because that thought seemed outrageously funny. I laughed and Bear’s eyes widened even more, which made me laugh again, loud and deep from my belly.
And I kept on giggling, replete with big, loud whoops until I could barely breathe and my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. I was mortified—again—but couldn’t stop. Especially when Bear’s shoulders shook and a laugh burst from his mouth. Soon he was laughing so hard along with me that tears formed. Yes, I was a messed-up bloody riot and that seemed to make it all the more funny.
I held my stomach, my muscles aching, and sat on the floor. Bear joined me and we laughed and laughed. I tried to speak, but managed to only point to the mess and laugh even harder.
A thought hit me then and I sobered a little. Still giggling, I managed to say, though not terribly clearly, ‘That could’ve fallen on me while I was sleeping and killed me.’
The smile fell from Bear’s face. He turned to look at the huge wooden chest laying upside down in the middle of the bed, the mattress sinking inwards from the weight. He faced me again and said, ‘You’re very lucky you were awake.’
I wasn’t giggling anymore. The correct emotions had taken hold. I frowned and whispered, ‘I’m lucky.’
He nodded, pressed to his feet and held his hands out for me. ‘Come on. Let’s get this cleaned up. And I better check the rest of the house, just to make sure no more ceilings collapse.’
I raised my hands to meet his and became very aware of his naked chest. I pulled away before our hands touched and he withdrew the gesture. I lifted from the floor and dusted off my clothes. ‘I guess it was always my intention to renovate. I presumed I’d have a bit of time to settle in before I had to start.’
Chapter 4
Bear
Hannah stood with me at the door and looked in at the room. It took all morning, but we managed to clean the mud and dust, and dry all the surfaces. I had a wet vacuum in the back of the ute, so I used that to soak up the stinking water that had flooded the floor and bed. Her mattress was hauled into the spare room, sat on its side and powdered so it could dry as much as possible by tonight. What a mess. It didn’t help that another client was blaring into my phone for me to get over there and attend to him. A patio extension—in this rain. That could wait. And I told him as such.
Unlike this other client, Hannah needed … was … I don’t know. Broken? Either way, I wasn’t going to leave her to deal with this on her own.
Hannah flicked her brown hair over her shoulder. ‘It’s as if nothing has happened in here.’
My attention was drawn to the ceiling where I couldn’t miss the two gaping holes.
She followed my gaze, then looked at me with a bashful grin. ‘Unless you look up, of course.’
I laughed. ‘How about we avoid looking at the ceiling until I get it all fixed?’
She nodded. ‘Sounds like a good plan to me.’ She pressed her palms to her hips and sighed. ‘You know, this being-an-adult gig isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’
I shrugged. ‘I thought the same about being a kid.’
Hannah looked at me then. Her eyes were blue. Like the ocean. I hadn’t noticed before now.
‘I quite liked being a kid. For the most part anyway,’ she said.
‘And for that, you’re very lucky—’ My mobile buzzed in my pocket. ‘Hang on a tick.’ I pulled it out and checked the number. ‘Shit,’ I hissed as I turned the phone to silent. ‘I better head off. This guy’s not going to stop calling otherwise.’
Hannah nodded.
‘I’ve checked the rest of the ceiling and the floor as well, just to make sure there are no other surprises lurking.’
‘And it’s all okay?’ she asked.
‘Yep. All good. Once this rain stops, I’ll pop back over and get the roof all fixed up for you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, such sincerity reflected in that blue gaze.
‘My pleasure, Hannah.’ I winked. ‘I told you we’d run into each other again.’
She grinned. ‘Small town and all that.’
‘Yep. Small indeed.’
Surfing was my down time. My me time. The space. The vast ocean. The pungent salty taste. The sting of my eyes. I loved the freedom, the possibilities that opened up when I was riding a wave. Anything was conceivable. But as soon as I ran back up the beach, board in hand, life happened again. Closed in nice and tight.
Tight like it was now.
Hell, I really, really, needed a surf.
By the time I finished at Mr Patio-extension’s house, it was almost dark. I enjoyed being a carpenter, I couldn’t deny that. But sometimes, very rarely mind you, the people got to me, needled in under my fingernails like annoying parasites. This guy was one of those. If the worst of his problems was me turning up a couple of hours late, then he was doing pretty damn well. Some people just didn’t realise how good they had it.
I drove home, tied the board to the rack on my car and headed down to the beach. The rain wasn’t giving up. The surf was shit. Usually storms brought crazy-sized swell, but this one only gave forth a choppy mess. I peered out at the blue-green ocean through the windscreen. There were some nice sets coming through every now and then. Had to be enough. One or two to relax.
I parked and threw on my rashy. I untied my board, clasped the rope to my ankle and ran down the cold, wet sand. The beach was deserted. Just me and the ocean. I sighed as my feet hit frothy water and I ventured deeper. The brine was strong. The rushing whoosh of the waves loud. Knee deep, I threw my board into the ocean and dived on top. I paddled hard past the chop and foam of the shore breakers, hoping to find something more substantial a little further out.
Far enough, I sat up on the board facing the hazy expanse. The waves rocked me as I waited. Rain belted from above. Salty coolness covered my legs. The horizon was blurred and I couldn’t see where the ocean ended and steely sky began. Lightning flashed in the distance, but it was too far away to be of concern.
The relief overtaking my body, just being out here, was palpable. How was I ever going to cope when I went overseas, spending weeks away from the Pacific?
It would be just like another ocean—u
npredictable, full of potential, vast. At least that’s what I was telling myself. I had planned to go to Jervis Bay, St Tropez, and Fiji during my trip, great surfing spots, but most of the time I wouldn’t be anywhere near the ocean.
A swell out in the distance and the sea rushed at me, pulling away from the beach. My breath quickened. Heart beat faster. The swell grew and rolled closer. I spun the board to face the beach and laid on my stomach, already paddling. The wave fattened, beckoning me now to join it, challenging me to race and beat it. I paddled faster as it came upon me and swept me up. I swung my feet under until I was standing and let it take me. Time slowed as I rode the wave, slicing along its surface, cutting back to stay on its length and kept on all the way to the shore. Me and the ocean were now partners. I jumped off as the sand drew closer and pulled my board back to me before it got caught up in the chop.
I peered back at the ocean, ready to find another.
What a shame Hannah turned up now, just as I’m getting ready to leave this town. I shook my head hard, dived on my board and paddled furiously. I did not just think that. Not one bit. She had every right to be here and enjoy her life, but I was not going to have one single regret when I turned my back on this town.
Chapter 5
Hannah
I sat on the floor, cross legged, ready to go through Gran’s boxes to see what could be salvaged. I tore at the first soggy box, the cardboard separating easily. The bottom was green and it stunk—had seen damp for a long time. Inside was a pile of old clothes, smelling of mothballs and time. I sneezed from the dust as I flicked through the mound. They were faded dressing gowns, nighties and woollen winter clothing, damp and black from years of mould. The only place for these would be the dump. I pushed them aside. The second box was much the same—Grandma’s old clothes ruined by years passing.
I looked at the big timber chest that took both myself and Bear—mostly Bear—to lift off the bed earlier. This box stirred something inside. A gentle squeezing in my belly. Despite Gran having passed away a little over six months ago, it felt like I was intruding on her privacy. But there may be things inside of value, sentimental or otherwise, that needed rescuing.
Pieces of Me Page 2