Gratefulness filled her chest. ‘I care about you, Ethan.’
The children chanted the nursery rhyme again, their voices carrying over the ridge and stirring the part of her soul that had wandered too far and got lost.
This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home.
Ethan had found her, and filled an empty space. He didn’t know it yet, but she’d try to tell him how grateful she was for his friendship.
This little piggy had roast beef. This little piggy had none.
‘And you know that I care about you too, don’t you?’ he asked. The studious expression on his face was filled with kindness.
‘I know.’ He was a little solitary, and a bit unexpectedly wild but she could make him laugh and lighten him up while she was around him. Share him with everyone, be a part of him.
The young voices rose with excitement.
He reached out, ran his hand over her head, gently brushing her hair back.
She faltered in her thoughts as soon as he touched her. She was asking too much, wanted it earnestly and a little crazily. She had her heart on her sleeve again.
‘And we’re okay now,’ he said. ‘Friends again. Yes?’
No. Impossible. She was in love with him.
And this little piggy cried all the way home.
Thirteen
Sammy yanked the handbrake, switched the engine off and sat in the car a moment, scanning Main Street and the walkway. Grandy wasn’t in his seat today, but Julia was standing outside Kookaburra’s with a group of young friends.
Friends. The pig story had lasted the week. She’d answered questions and taken handshakes for her involvement in the rescue and its happy outcome. Ethan had called her that night. Laughing as he asked if she’d got the mud off.
Friends again.
Then he’d got serious. Told her to keep that paperwork in a safe place. Reminded her he wanted to know straight away if Oliver contacted her. She’d betrayed her promise to him by calling Oliver, but after speaking to her mother again and hearing the anxiety in Verity’s voice, there’d been no choice.
There was no laughter or tone of friendship in her telephone call to Oliver.
‘So, the stray has returned to the land of the living,’ Oliver had said when she announced herself.
His voice brought a shiver down her spine and she didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Can you speak for a minute?’
‘For you, honey, I’m always available. When are you coming home?’
‘I want you to stop calling Verity. Stop threatening her.’
‘And what could I possibly be threatening her with? Oh—that’s right.’ He paused. ‘She owes me money; quite a lot, actually.’
‘I’ll pay you back the money, but it will have to be a little at a time. I haven’t got that amount floating around.’
‘You could have more, much more.’
‘No thanks.’
He paused again. ‘I have to say, Samantha, I’m disappointed in you over this. How dare you think I’d steal from my clients?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Verity told me you’d taken some of my business documents. Stole them, I suppose some would say—although I think you might have just grabbed them by mistake when you were picking up your bits and pieces from my apartment. Am I right?’
‘All I know is that my mother took money off you thinking it was a gift, and now you’re pressuring her about returning it.’
‘Verity asked me for the money. She said you weren’t helping her and she’d pay me back once you came to your senses.’
Lying son of a …
‘It would be hard for me, Samantha, if I had to report this to the police, but those were the only copies I had, and I doubt my clients would like to hear that my fiancée withheld important business information from me. It would look a bit odd, don’t you think, honey? I’d hate to see your lovely face in a mug shot.’
‘If you want to call the police, go ahead. I don’t know what paperwork they’d find, except bills.’ Mistake. Big mistake calling him. He’d stretch this out to his advantage. All she’d done was push him into further action. She kept her tone even. ‘And don’t call me ‘honey’. I’m your ex-fiancée, remember? And I was only your fiancée for a few hours. Our engagement wasn’t something I helped organise.’ She’d changed her mobile number before leaving Sydney, and the house landline she was calling from was listed as a private number, so he wouldn’t have that. She hoped to God Verity hadn’t given him her address. If he turned up in town, she’d have some explaining to do. Not only to the townspeople who didn’t know anything about her other life, but also to Ethan.
‘Let’s get this over with, Oliver. I can pay you back a little each month.’ She named an amount that was over half her income. Her stomach knotted. She’d be living on eggs and fresh air and there was no way she could continue with the renovations.
‘Meet me at my office and bring the paperwork, Samantha. We can discuss our relationship issues over lunch. Or will I need to call on Verity and let her do the persuading?’
‘You threaten either of us, and I’ll be the one going to the police.’
He laughed. ‘Think about it—what can you do with that paperwork? It’s nothing but a business list. You’re getting confused about this issue, and about my intent. You and your mother need help, and I’m here to support you both. Come back to the city now—from wherever the hell you are.’
‘I’m suddenly tired of this conversation. Stop threatening my mother or I’ll put a restraining order on you.’
‘You’re not being very smart, Samantha, and I’m getting a little tired of your continued ignorance.’
‘Well if I’m not that smart, I imagine I’ll get confused when the police start asking me questions about our relationship. About why I ended our engagement four hours after you’d forced the ring on my finger.’
‘The events of that evening were nothing more than a lover’s tiff, a silly quarrel between adults.’
‘It was one hell of a quarrel, Oliver. You almost broke my arm.’
‘You’ve got something I want back, and you’d better understand right now that I’ll get it.’ The light manipulative edge of his tone hardened. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Laughter rang down Main Street, the high-pitched sounds bringing Sammy back to the moment. She shuddered, removed the memory of the telephone call from her mind and glanced at Julia’s group of friends as two young men started pushing and shoving each other, play-fighting and showing off for the girls around them.
Sammy dropped her keys into her shoulder bag and made her way up the stairs, skirting the group, heading straight for the hardware store, eyes downcast.
It was packed inside with three other people, the aroma of dusty boxes and machine oil sitting in the air. She took four packets of sandpaper to the counter, picked up two small paintbrushes and got her money ready for young Mr Morelly, her thoughts back with Ethan as she waited for her turn to pay.
What Ethan didn’t know, he’d probably guessed. She hadn’t told him every detail about that evening with Oliver, but Ethan didn’t have a studious, penetrating gaze for nothing. There was a sharp brain in his head, no matter how quietly he used his intelligence.
Her heart beat faster as she vacillated between love for him and worry about everything else. He’d fixed the shed walls and put up shelving this last week, sauntering around with his contained detachment, with none of the intimacy he’d shown when they were stuck together in the mud.
By Wednesday, she hadn’t been able to stand it and had made appointments with Mary to hold more art classes in the late afternoons so she wouldn’t have to look at Ethan and love him.
‘Hey, Sammy,’ young Mr Morelly said, taking her money and putting her purchases into a brown paper bag. ‘I got the paint samples. Maybe you could come on in tomorrow and we’ll sit down and talk.’ He winked, and shuffled something in his mouth, possibly his dentures.
‘Tomorrow would be great. Looking forward to it.’ She didn’t know if she could drum up the energy to make big decisions with Mr Morelly on what colours he wanted to paint the store, but he had plans and he wanted Sammy’s advice. Perhaps tomorrow this bewilderment about being in love would have settled into some kind of decision. Do something about it, or don’t. She couldn’t balance on a knife edge for the rest of her life.
She left the store, feeling as though she were walking through an early morning mist. What would people say if she yelled it out right now: I’m in love with your vet! I love him—do you hear me?
‘Hi, Sammy.’
No peace. Eighty seven people was a crowd. She turned, produced her bravest smile. ‘Hello, Julia.’ She’d schooled her features so often this last week that her facial muscles no longer felt real. She wore a happy mask for Ethan, and a display of settling-in contentment for the townspeople. But it was difficult to banish the heaviness behind her eyes and it felt like the plaster of the mask was cracking, and taking her skin off with it.
‘Are you seeing Ethan today?’ Julia asked.
Was she really in love with him? Yes. No. Yes—Oh, God. What was she going to do about it? She shook her head. ‘Don’t think he’ll come over.’ The shed was done except for the concrete. She still had the fence to paint, but she didn’t want Ethan helping her with that. There was nothing needing immediate fixing. Except her heart.
‘I was hoping you could remind him not to be late tonight,’ Julia said. ‘We’ve got a date.’
‘A date for what?’
‘Can you believe it?’ Julia’s face lit up, her gaze a dewy glow. ‘I think he’s always liked me, but you know how shy he is sometimes.’ She glanced over at her friends, then back to Sammy.
Sammy frowned. Ethan was anything but shy.
‘I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out for ages.’
Numbness stilled her. ‘You’re going out with him?’ Julia was a beautiful young woman. Slick. Engaging. But too young for Ethan. She was twenty two. He must be twelve years older than her. ‘He asked you out?’ She couldn’t see them as a couple. ‘On a date?’
‘Is that such a shock?’
Sammy stepped back. ‘Sorry.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I had my mind on something else … The house.’ He was free. She didn’t have any claim on him. ‘So, a date?’ she asked again, a freight train pounding through her chest as she waited for the answer.
‘Hot date.’ Julia managed to pout as she spoke. Something she obviously practised.
Sammy stuffed her purchases into her bag and fished around for her car keys.
‘We’re only going to Kookaburra’s though,’ Julia said. ‘There’s nowhere else around here to hang out.’
Hang out? She found the keys, pulled them out and dropped them with a clatter on the walkway. An image of Ethan hanging out with Julia Morelly in the snug back seat of his ute nearly gagged her. She bent, fisted the keys and straightened, looking Julia in the eye. ‘This is a bit of a surprise. How long have you been … ’ Had they been touching? Flirting? Rehearsing for the next step?
‘We’re not together properly yet. But we will be, I know it. He’s always liked me.’
She wasn’t right for him.
One of the young men called out to Julia. She lifted a hand in response, then turned back to Sammy. ‘If he does come by your place, tell him seven o’clock.’
‘I will.’ She would not. She closed her mouth, pressed her lips together. The lips Ethan had kissed. She’d never succumbed to envy before, but immediately she wanted to push the young girl away. Knock her to the ground. Or something more extreme. Pound her to dust. Run her over. Had he kissed Julia?
She backed off, took a step down to the road. ‘If I see him, I’ll tell him.’
Disappointment churned inside her. She saw him at the top of the ravine, hair blowing forwards, tall and capable with a slow-fired smile. His hands full of equipment. Had he touched Julia Morelly with those hands?
By the time Sammy drove through her gateway, rain was splattering on the ground. Her wiper blades screeched on the windscreen, unused to being worked. She got out of the car and headed for the front door. Did Ethan want female comfort so badly he didn’t care where he got it from? He hadn’t offered sex to Sammy—the dusty, unmethodical woman who didn’t suit diamonds. But Julia was there, waiting, arms open.
She stomped up the stairs and burst into her bedroom, the door banging against the wall. What was Ethan thinking? He was too contained for Julia, couldn’t he see that?
But he’d made the request to take Julia out. He must like her, really want her. Patricia Rutherford had made some remark about him settling down, right after Julia had said she looked like his wife. Had Patricia meant settling down with Julia? All that talk about Sammy and Ethan getting something together— had people meant to put Sammy off Ethan? To get her away from him and coerce him towards Julia? In which case, Sammy’s conclusions had been wrong. They weren’t gossiping about her, they were pushing her away. They wouldn’t let Sammy have him, she didn’t belong. Julia was hometown, homegrown, part of the community and their lives.
God, God, God. She’d spent the whole week schooling her features for nothing. This was the moment of discovery then. This was the day all her angst stopped. She wasn’t getting him, not for small, thrilling passionate moments or big-time exclamations of love. None of it. And she’d been hoping for all of it. Including the diamonds.
She closed her eyes. The immediate torture was a vision of him at the town fair, smiling at Julia at the fence. Speaking to her, thumping his hand to the rail and nodding as he smiled. As though he’d asked her out and she’d accepted and he was happy about it. And last week, in the mud—he’d pushed them back to friendship. They hadn’t spoken of the kiss in any factual terms. I’m sorry I kissed you so passionately, Sammy. He’d wanted to lead them away from it. I’m sorry I hurt you with these hands, Sammy. And she’d let him, lost in him, wanting anything of him. Heart-on-show hopeless.
She stepped out of her jeans and skinny-rib jumper and flung herself into her track pants. She slipped on a yellow T-shirt with Slow Down written across the front. She loved him and Julia Morelly was getting him.
She moved to the bed and lifted the eiderdown, billowing it above the mattress. It was thick and heavy and her arms ached with each slap and crack. She left it hanging lopsidedly over the edge of the mattress. She picked up a pillow, pumped it between her hands then threw it against the dark wooden headboard.
Slow down. It was exactly the sentiment she needed. None of this made any sense. That he would take such a young, frivolous thing into his arms believing it would work. Julia was a girl, Sammy was a woman. Ethan had told her so. More than that— he’d shown her, with his mouth, his arms, and his body. She’d felt him stir against her, had known he was hardening.
But he’d dropped her, pushed her away as though she was a sword tip at his chest. He’d apologised and made amends, turning them around to friends again.
Slow down. Rationalise. Listen to the clues.
She closed her eyes. He’d wanted Sammy sexually, but he’d bungled things and now he had to straighten them out with Julia, and with the town. He hadn’t talked about their kiss because he didn’t want the town to know how he’d nearly taken Sammy Walker on her kitchen floor. He had almost done that and she would have let him—had practically begged for it, with her little moan of compliance while the wispy curls of sensuality swirled in the pit of her stomach, craving satisfaction.
She bent to tie the laces on her sneakers. Better to be outside. Outdoors. Away. Disillusionment wouldn’t pound so harshly if she was outside. Bugger the rain. Bugger everyone in this town.
She opened the secateurs and eyed the rose bush, the blooms sprinkled with diamond raindrops. The bush sprawled along the wall, covering half of the living room corner window. She reached up, snipped lengths from the top, concentrating on not getting her hands scratched. She didn’t turn when Ethan
’s ute pulled up in her driveway.
Her arms were as heavy as the thick boughs of the rose bush. She couldn’t lift a hand to wave at Ethan any more than she could stop her heart bursting with envy. But she turned to him, when his boots sounded closer on the gravel path.
The first thing she saw was the look of surprise on his face as he gazed at her unruly, ridiculous hair.
‘What have you done?’ he asked.
Not only was he here, breaking her heart, he was witnessing her hair going crazy. ‘I’ve been cutting roses, what does it look like?’
He brought his gaze to her face. A sandy piece of his hair had fallen across his forehead and she wanted to lift her hand and brush it away. But Julia would be doing that. Julia’s heart would burst with pleasure as she touched him. She could only hope that the young girl appreciated what she’d get from him.
Hope. She’d allowed stupid, senseless hope to engulf all sense. She’d felt out of place in the wine bars with the boys’-only jokes as men caught her eye and offered less than subtle smiles but she knew how to handle that. It was familiar and necessary, and she’d been dressed for the part. She was nothing but drab in Ethan’s presence. Unravelled, wet and un-alluring. And there was Julia, basking in town with her manicured nails and her long shiny hair that didn’t freak out in a shower of rain. Julia would know what to do around Ethan; wouldn’t hesitate, would just take him.
Sammy ran her fingers through her hair, slicing into the wayward curls, tempting Ethan to say one more word about it. She’d manage without him. Wouldn’t be getting much help from him in the future anyway, he’d be too busy kissing Julia. And doing other things with her, like having sex. Julia was a come-get-me siren but she was sure Ethan would be a making-love person. They didn’t fit. Why couldn’t he see that?
‘Do you know what would give my heart a necessary burst of pleasure right this moment?’ she asked him.
Ethan didn’t know, but talk about hearts bursting with pleasure … ‘What have done to your hair?’ he asked again. She didn’t answer, but he couldn’t take his gaze off it. Curls framed her cheeks and tumbled over her shoulders. Some were tangled on top of her head now, messed up by her fingers when she’d brushed them away from her face—in annoyance, or something.
The House On Burra Burra Lane Page 14