A Place to Stay

by Jennie Jones

  She had so much to tell Luke.

  ‘So how are you getting on?’ she asked Angela.

  ‘Not bad,’ Angela said, looking up from her phone. ‘My mum taught me how to type when I was thirteen, so that helps.’

  Rachel smiled in acknowledgement, switched the blender on and they didn’t talk while the milkshake whizzed. Angela had a new job. Rachel’s old job. Angela had decided to stay in Mt Maria. She said it would be beneficial to her future if she learned the ropes of administration at the town hall with Mary before she got to the city, where the big jobs and all the action lived.

  ‘On me,’ Rachel said when Angela handed money over. She pulled a five-dollar note out of her jeans pocket and opened the till. ‘Tell Mary I’ll pop over and see her tomorrow afternoon. I’m doing morning shifts this week.’

  ‘She’d like that. She talks about you all the time. I’m in with her again tomorrow morning for a couple of hours, then I should be able to start full time in about a week or so.’

  Rachel handed over the milkshake.

  ‘When’s Sergeant Weston back?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Don’t know yet.’ Soon. Please let it be soon.

  ‘Tell him I said hi. Catch ya,’ Angela said, and made her way outside.

  Rachel leaned her elbows on the counter and gazed out the panoramic front windows to where all the action was going on down High Street. Two of the Agatha Girls were out with their measuring tape, bickering over a ficus tree planted in a half-barrel pot beneath the eaves of the verandah at Breakers. Old Mr Roper was behind them, giving directions. He’d already been slapped on the arm with Mrs Arnold’s straw handbag twice. Rachel just hoped the car-jack handle wasn’t in it, or old Roper would end up in hospital.

  Billy Baxter walked by with a large grocery bag under his arm, and a disorientated look on his face, which made Rachel smile. Solomon had picked him up at six am that morning and work had begun, but not quite the way Billy had expected. Word on the street was—and now that Rachel was working in the café, she heard all the words on the street—Solomon had told Billy the first role he’d learn was housekeeping. He’d said the boy would not be touching the horses until he knew how to look after himself. He’d given Billy the tasks of grocery shopping, ironing, and cleaning the bathrooms.

  Every hour, Rachel sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever powers that nobody had been hurt. Word had spread about Wiseman—undoubtedly from the Agatha Girls, who were basking in the glory of retelling their side of the ‘adventure’, as they called it. And everyone, every business owner, every soul in town, had stood up and backed the Tidy Town committee. No plastic plants.

  Small towns, big hearts. Mt Maria was a force to be reckoned with when a whole community made a stand.

  She was going to love this job. She already loved it.

  Donald Wiseman’s first task yesterday morning, after he’d risen from his sick bed and before he met with the police, had been to sack Rachel. She hadn’t heard him at first, hadn’t been able to comprehend what he was telling her since she’d had very little sleep after having spent hours with detectives from Kalgirri, and then those from Melbourne, relaying her side of the story and going over everything that had happened in her past. Nine years’ worth of nightmare had been spoken of, recorded, written down and signed off in a four-hour period. The police had a string of charges on Peter and he’d confessed to most of them. He’d been taken away and once he went to trial he wouldn’t be harming anyone but himself or his jail buddies for a long time.

  Mary and others at the shire were insisting Rachel be reinstated, especially as firing her was likely to be the CEO’s last official directive before he was replaced. He probably wouldn’t be sacked, not publicly, but he’d be removed and that suited everyone in Mt Maria. But the moment he fired her, Rachel decided she didn’t want the job back. She’d walked straight to the café and offered her services to Jax.

  Just about everyone in town had been into the café yesterday afternoon and today, having heard about her new job. They’d congratulated her on her association with their sergeant, shaken her hand and told her they hoped she’d stay. Washing dishes, mixing milkshakes and frying bacon and eggs was the best job she’d ever had. And this one she was keeping—so long as everything went well with Luke once she’d had the chance to talk to him. Once he came back to town—whenever that would be—and once he’d told her about his important decision. He’d been gone two days.

  She straightened and bit into her bottom lip, contemplating the might-bes and the might-not-bes.

  She’d been so good, and hadn’t texted Luke or called him since he’d left. Instead, she was waiting for him to contact her, which he had, but they hadn’t been able to hold any deep and meaningful conversation because he’d been at the Lake Laura station, with a dozen officers around him. It had cost her, not bringing up the two conversations he’d said he wanted to have when he returned. The first was his big decision. What would the second be?

  She freed her lip from her teeth and removed any anxiety that might be visible on her face as Jax pushed through the door, rushing inside in a fluster and letting the door bang closed—which she never did. She had a light in her eyes that told Rachel something had happened.

  ‘Is it Rosie?’ Rachel asked. ‘What’s she done now?’ Rosita and Davidson had been thick as thieves—texting and chatting on the phone or hanging out in those times he wasn’t on shift—but Rosita was a live wire and Rachel and Jax weren’t sure Davidson could handle her, so they’d been keeping an eye out for him.

  ‘She hasn’t done anything,’ Jax said. ‘Get your apron off.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re off shift.’

  ‘I’ve still got three hours.’

  ‘Rosie’s coming in.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Because you’re off shift!’

  ‘Don’t tell me I’m being sacked again.’

  ‘For the rest of the day—yes.’

  The café door opened.

  ‘Hi, Rachel,’ Jack Maxwell said with a grin. ‘Hello, Isabelle,’ he said to Jax, in a wary tone.

  ‘Go away,’ Jax told him. ‘I’m just about to—you know.’

  ‘Oh, right. Wasn’t sure if you knew.’

  ‘Go!’ Jax shooed him out the door.

  ‘That man has a serious thing for you,’ Rachel said, pointing at Jack’s back. He’d been in and out all day yesterday and today.

  ‘Not interested.’

  ‘I think he really likes you. I mean really likes you.’ From the little Rachel knew of Jack, he didn’t come across as the womaniser Jax was painting him as. ‘He’s very good looking.’

  ‘Isn’t he?’ Jax said, walking up to Rachel with a purposeful stride. ‘Just not my type of very good looking.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to spend time with someone?’ Rachel asked as Jax turned her and fiddled with the knot on the apron. ‘I know it would be difficult with him in Kalgirri, but Rosie and I can run the café.’

  ‘He doesn’t make my heart flutter,’ Jax said, pulling at the strings of the apron. ‘And I want someone who’s my forever person. So Detective Jack-the-lad hasn’t got a chance.’

  ‘He’ll be disappointed.’

  Jax yanked the apron off, threw it onto the counter then spun Rachel around. She held her arms and studied her face. ‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘Sort of radiant and glowing.’

  ‘That’s because I spent the last ten minutes over the deep fat fryer.’

  Jax fiddled with Rachel’s hair, brushing her fingers through it to comb it, and fluffing it up at the ends.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Jax said, and stood back. ‘Okay. You’re off shift.’

  ‘But I’ve still got another three hours.’

  ‘Not today,’ Jax said, smiling as though she had a secret she couldn’t wait to spill. She took a deep breath. ‘Luke’s back. They got in five minutes ago.’

  Rachel turned to the window, her heartbe
at rising like a tidal wave. ‘I didn’t see them,’ she said, darting her eyes to everything going on outside. ‘I didn’t see him drive past.’ He hadn’t told her. Why hadn’t he called her?

  Jax gave her a push. ‘See you tomorrow. Go get that man.’

  * * *

  Rachel pushed through the front door to the police station. ‘Hi, Jimmy.’

  ‘He’s in his office,’ Jimmy said gruffly, without looking up from his paperwork. ‘And I’m out here doing all the work. Forms,’ he added, pushing a pile of papers to one side. ‘We’re in overload mode with bloody forms.’

  Rachel didn’t answer because she was already halfway down the corridor. The door to the communal office on her left was closed, but she saw four or five officers inside, a lot more paperwork on their desks.

  She paused in the open doorway to the OIC’s office and took a breath. Luke stood with his back to her. He had a hand on his hip and his mobile pressed to his ear but he wasn’t speaking.

  She gave herself a moment to just stare at him. Even from behind, he made her heart flip and her breath catch. Six-foot-two of packed power. Six-foot-two of blue shirt, navy trousers and all that equipment—and she wasn’t necessarily referring to the gear on his belt. Although he wasn’t wearing his belt; it was on his desk. She wanted to swallow him up whole.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, disregarding her breathy little voice because really, what woman could speak steadily when staring at the back belonging to the man she’d never held any hope of meeting.

  He turned quickly, taking the phone from his ear, and suddenly she had the best view. The front of him. His hair, a bit dishevelled, his tanned face and … well, everything. From his shoulders to his boots.

  ‘Where were you?’ He held up the phone. ‘I’ve been calling you.’

  She’d left her phone and her bag at work. ‘I’ve been working—I’m at the café now. I work for Jax.’

  ‘You what?’ He put the phone down. ‘What do you mean you’re working at the café?’

  She smiled. ‘Wiseman sacked me.’

  ‘He what?’

  ‘Best thing he’s done.’ She took a step inside the office. ‘Hi,’ she said again.

  He paused, the confused expression in his eyes still in play, but his frown lifted, and so did the corners of his mouth. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How’s your day?’

  ‘I missed you.’

  He approached her, his arms open, and Rachel ran to him, letting him wrap her in his embrace.

  ‘I didn’t know where to find you,’ he said, his hands stroking her back. ‘Got worried you might have skipped town.’

  ‘I’m here.’ He smelled of thick cotton, cop gear and masculine soap. He smelled of Luke.

  ‘You smell so good,’ he said, his mouth on her hair.

  ‘You feel so good.’ She’d never believed it possible that anyone so wonderful would be in her life. It was astonishing to be with a man who showed his care.

  She pulled her face from his shoulder and looked at him properly. ‘Did you get hurt?’

  He shook his head. ‘A few bruises.’

  ‘No shootout?’

  He smiled. ‘So what have you been thinking about while I was away?’

  ‘This and that.’

  ‘Don’t tease me.’

  She had to admit she was teasing, or more correctly, stalling. Yesterday, during one of the few calls they’d shared, he’d asked if she was definitely staying. He’d sounded tentative, as though being apart after having gone through so much in so short a time might mean they’d lost their connection. She’d told him they ought to wait and discuss things face to face. And now here they were, face to face,

  ‘Why didn’t you stay with Jax?’ he asked. ‘You know I didn’t want you to be alone.’

  ‘I stayed at the Laurensen place.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I wanted to feel comfortable being me. Being me, alone.’

  She’d taken two nights for herself to work it all out, and think about—everything. Like the last two years, and the next two—and the next however long.

  ‘You’re not telling me the whole truth.’

  Shyness overcame her, and worry that he wouldn’t understand beat in her chest. ‘I had to be me—Rachel Meade. I wanted time to myself, on my own, to see how it felt not being scared.’

  His face creased with concern. ‘Rachel, you should have called me,’ he said softly.

  ‘I’ve only felt like a real, whole person for two days. And being Rachel Meade forevermore is a huge commitment.’

  ‘Is it a commitment you want to make?’

  She nodded. ‘I like her. I didn’t know she was there.’

  He pulled her to him. ‘Forevermore is a long time,’ he said against her hair.

  He ran a hand over her head and cupped her face. ‘I really want to kiss you.’

  And she really wanted to be kissed.

  Whether he knew it or not, he played with her heart. Strumming the strings, messing with the chords. And she liked it. Even though she didn’t know what notes to play, or how the notes would ever become a symphony.

  ‘But I’ve got something I want to ask you first,’ he said. ‘No—cancel that—in case I don’t get what I want.’ He drew her head to his and kissed her.

  Rachel kissed him back, savouring the touch of his lips on hers. It was more than a kiss, it was a welcome home. It was a kiss that said I missed you. It was an exploration of emotions, and need. A communication of what happened every time they touched.

  Her mouth was slightly open and her lips wet from his kiss when they parted. Their eyes held. ‘Wow,’ she said softly.

  ‘We do have something, don’t we?’ he asked, as he wiped his thumb across her mouth, his eyes tender and warm.

  His arms came around her, loosely locking her in place against him. He rolled a shoulder, as though getting himself out of that ethereal place they’d just been in because it was important that his focus wasn’t distracted. ‘Conversation one—’

  ‘Are you going back to Homicide?’ she asked, unable to go through the agony of one more sentence before she heard his decision.

  He tilted his head and lightened his expression. ‘No. Are you staying?’

  ‘I want to. You know that.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. But are you staying with me?’

  This was the problem. A real issue and she was facing it, although she didn’t know how to handle it. Her feelings for him were real, they’d be locked inside her forever, but—‘I’m still unsure of so much.’

  He resettled her in his arms. ‘Okay. We’ll do this a different way. Here’s my deal, then you give me your deal.’

  ‘Okay.’ This was better. They needed to talk through all their issues—Rachel’s issues.

  ‘Rachel, I’m in love with you.’

  It was so good to hear that. She almost forgot caution and threw her arms around his neck.

  ‘And yes, I’m a police officer.’

  ‘It’s your job. It’s your career.’

  ‘Stop interrupting.’

  She found a smile. ‘Such a cop.’ She poked him in his side, which made him flinch and push out a laugh. ‘Are you ticklish?’

  ‘No. Where was I? Me,’ he said, focusing on her again. ‘I love you. I want to be with you. You’re my job too. If you want me. Of course you might be about to break my heart. But.’ He inhaled, paused a moment, then carried on. ‘I’m taking the next two-year tenure here in Mt Maria. After that I might get another twelve months—I don’t know. So being with me isn’t going to be easy.’

  After the life she’d led? He had to be joking. Being with him would be like a miracle.

  ‘Did you come by that decision because of me?’ she asked. ‘Or because you like it here?’ She loved this town and suspected he did too, but didn’t want to pressure him. That wouldn’t be fair.

  ‘How could I not like it here?’ he said, incredulous. ‘The place is packed with elderly female troublemakers, and kids w
ho might actually stand a chance of learning a good job and making a living, and I’ve got list of people who want picture hooks hung in their living rooms. I’ve got a grumpy Customer Service Officer who nobody else would have in the office, and twelve of the best uniformed officers a senior sergeant could wish for. And anyway—one day we might get a shootout. I don’t want to miss that.’

  She poked a finger into his side again.

  He smiled, then cleared his throat. ‘Conversation two.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Can we make it formal?’

  She tensed. Rachel Weston. The name formed in her mind immediately. But she wasn’t ready. Even though she wanted it, or wanted to believe she could handle it and had enough security in her life now to make her much less nervous, it was still such a huge adjustment. In so short a time.

  ‘Rachel Meade,’ he said. ‘Will you move in with me?’

  Surprise filtered through her. Her mouth opened. ‘That’s it?’

  His smile suggested he knew exactly what was going on in her head. ‘Yeah. That’s it.’

  ‘Luke …’ She couldn’t hold the love spreading inside her.

  ‘We can take it slow,’ he said. ‘Because this will be new to me, too. However.’ He moistened his mouth. ‘I want to be the only guy you turn to. The only guy you laugh with, cry with, share everything with—all that stuff. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m getting a bit tense, so quit busting my heart. Will you move in with me?’

  He watched her closely and she felt herself bloom with confidence. He wasn’t asking for anything more than what they had now, and for a chance to take it further. He was giving her the lead.

  Nobody had ever given her presents, and if she never got one for the rest of her life, this would be the biggest and most touching. He wasn’t pushing her. Not for anything.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her brow with a finger. ‘I want to be with Rachel Meade. I like her too,’ he added. ‘You’ll always be Rachel to me. Even if, one day—’ He paused and deepened the look between them. ‘Even if one day you decide to change your name again. Or not.’