by Mandy Magro
Carefully lifting a still dozing Fonzie, Summer gathered him in her arms and leisurely headed up the stairs towards the house. Astrid would be getting breakfast ready, and Summer wanted to give her a hand. She didn’t like being waited on by a woman she’d adored for over twenty years; it felt wrong, and even though Astrid sternly insisted that it was her job to prepare meals, Summer refused to agree to having lunch and dinner cooked for her, only begrudgingly agreeing to breakfast because Astrid had put her foot down. Astrid had been her nanny and was now the family’s housekeeper, only taking on the role at the Ocean Song Beach Retreat seven years ago when Summer had tuned sixteen. She lived with her husband Boris, the full-time gardener, and their cat Lucky in the two-bedroom cottage beside the main house. Astrid and Boris had never been able to have their own children, and treated Summer as the daughter they’d never had – they loved her like she was their very own.
Stepping through the back door, Summer giggled as Fonzie’s eyes flashed open and he leapt from her arms, the alluring smells wafting from the kitchen drawing him in like a moth to a flame. She knew Astrid would be down on her knees in a flash, feeding Fonzie titbits while speaking to him like a human being. Flicking off her thongs, she headed towards the kitchen to join them, a skip in her step and a broad smile on her face.
The cloudless sky stretched as far as the eye could see, beneath it the Pacific Ocean stretched out in one direction and the distant emerald Hideaway Mountain ranges in the other. Stretched out on her sunlounger, Summer delighted in the sunshine, every inch of her skin tingling pleasurably from its balmy warmth. It was such a sharp contrast to the freezing air-conditioned rooms of the uni she’d grown accustomed to, and a very welcome contrast at that.
Feeling she had tanned her front sufficiently, she stretched with the grace of a cat and rolled onto her stomach, her shapely legs kicking up behind her and crossing at the ankles. She propped herself on her elbows and carefully readjusted her favourite turquoise bikini, making sure there was enough material covering her ample breasts. It felt damn good to be outside, lacking in responsibilities and not having to answer to anyone. Since doing yoga this morning, she felt on top of the world, as though anything was possible, her instincts telling her that something big was just around the corner. And she was dying to find out what it was; her instincts were right ninety-nine percent of the time.
As Marcus exited the pool, she briefly eyed his well-formed six-pack over the top of her sunglasses and fought to ignore her slight attraction to him, his flawless Italian skin glistening tantalisingly with tiny water droplets. His muscular body was hard to overlook. Pull your eyes away!
Down the other end of the pool, Fiona and Bailey, Marcus’s uni buddy, were behaving like a pair of lovesick teenagers, their tongues shoved down each other’s throats as they canoodled on the steps. How Fiona could fall for a guy so easily was beyond Summer, especially after only four days. Although she had to admit that Bailey was a top bloke. Fiona seemed genuinely smitten with him and Summer couldn’t help but be happy for her, albeit a little envious. Not of the lust, but she did long to fall in love, to feel the magic of making love to ‘the one’.
Grabbing his towel from the back of a chair, Marcus glanced over at her, smirking knowingly as he stretched his arms upwards, tensed his pecks unnecessarily, and then dried his black glossy hair with movie star pizzazz. Holy shit! Was this his way of trying to seduce her? Extremely embarrassed, Summer darted her eyes back to the Body and Mind magazine she’d been reading, chastising herself for acting like a pervert, and not wanting to feel any attraction to Marcus whatsoever. She’d been there, done that with him and it had all gone horribly wrong. It’d felt like he’d never touched a woman before when they’d gotten naked together. Yes, they were old family friends and he was easy on the eye but that was as far as it went; her attraction to him was purely physical, and she needed much more than that to fall in love. Much, much more. She had always daydreamed about finding her soul mate, the one who would make her feel complete in every sense of the word, who would make the ground tremble beneath her feet; a man who would move heaven and earth to be with her, who would protect her with his life, and who would love her as intensely as she would love him. She longed to feel that love, the kind of love that left you feeling blissfully breathless. And she honestly believed she would find that special man one day. Just how and when she wasn’t sure, but she was certain that the second she laid eyes on him she would know. Then she would give herself to him, mind, body and soul, and stay his, forever and always.
Sliding up beside her, Marcus made himself comfortable on the edge of the sunlounger and then rested his hand on the small of her back, his thumb moving in tiny circles. Summer squirmed, feeling slightly awkward, thankful she had dark sunglasses on. She rolled onto her side and sat up, gathering her towel around her and mumbling about needing to go to the toilet. She went to stand but Marcus stopped her by grabbing her arm.
‘Hang five there, babes, I’ve been allocated the job of making cocktails by our infatuated mates over there.’ He pointed in the direction of Fiona and Bailey, now entwined lustfully at the deep end of the pool. ‘Would you like me to make you one while I’m at it?’
Summer glanced at her watch – not that she needed to to make a decision; it was just that Marcus’s penetrating gaze was making her uncomfortable. ‘Um, it’s a bit early for me, Marcus. And to be honest, I don’t really drink much alcohol, other then the odd glass of wine with dinner. Alcohol and me just don’t mix; it goes straight to my head and then normally back up in the toilet … you get the drift.’
In a very typical Italian manner Marcus waved his hands in the air and Summer couldn’t help but smile a little at his over-the-top gestures. ‘Ah, you health freak, you’re on holidays, babe! Why not relax and join your mates for a drink? Live it up for once. Trust me, one drink won’t hurt you … especially if I put loads of fruit in it!’ He gave her a friendly shove. ‘Go on, I’ll make you your favourite.’
Summer eyed him curiously. ‘And what might that be?’
‘A pina colada, of course,’ he replied smugly. ‘Well, that’s what you used to like when you were eighteen.’
Summer was quietly impressed he remembered. ‘Yup, it’s still my favourite.’ She chewed her bottom lip and weighed up what to do, not wanting to be labelled a party pooper.
Marcus grabbed the opportunity before she could respond. Grinning, he jumped up and headed in the direction of the bar beside the pool, doing a bit of a happy jig along the way.
‘One pina colada coming up!’
Summer sighed, rolling her eyes at his flamboyancy. She was on holidays, so maybe she should listen to Marcus and relax a little more.
Six hours later Summer was having a wow of a time, dancing with Fiona around the lounge room to Zoe Muth and the Lost High Rollers as the guys scaled and filleted the coral trout they’d caught, ready for barbecuing. Marcus had been right, the pina colada had gone down nicely, so she’d had another, and she had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon with her mates. It reminded her of the good old times, when she and Marcus had hung out on the beach for the summer holidays while their parents had sipped cocktails around the pool. Then they’d all tried tirelessly to get her to have a third drink and she’d finally given in, only agreeing to have another cocktail after dinner, just to get them off her case. She’d been good in every other way today, making sure she only ate whole foods and drank plenty of water, so one more cocktail shouldn’t matter. From tomorrow on she would go alcohol free for the rest of the holiday, content with drinking fruit juice mocktails while the other three nursed hangovers in the mornings.
Swallowing her last mouthful of fish, Summer leant back in her chair, contentedly full. Along with her famous all-in-anything-goes salad, the meal was a lovely way to end a fabulous day. Marcus had been acting like an absolute gentleman all afternoon, too, pulling her chair out, filling her wine glass with water each time it was almost empty, and even helping her chop up every
thing from the beetroot to the marinated fetta for the salad. He was a really lovely guy underneath his playboy bravado and glimpses of the boy she’d enjoyed hanging out with as a teenager were slowly emerging. She just wished he’d show this side more often – it wasn’t sleazy at all and left her feeling very comfortable around him, like mates should be around each other. It was almost if he was trying too hard to be a playboy at times, like he needed to prove he was appealing to women. Summer wondered why he felt the need to try so hard when he was naturally so good looking.
‘So what’s Phillip up to this weekend, Fi?’ Summer asked, stifling a yawn. ‘He’ll have to come over and hang out for the day some time.’
‘He’d love that, I’ll let him know.’ Fiona smirked naughtily. ‘I think he and Justin are making good use of having the house to themselves. Those two are so in love it’s almost sickening.’
Summer giggled. ‘Well, good for them. I reckon it’s wonderful that Phillip might have found his soul mate.’
Marcus choked on his cocktail. ‘Don’t let our fathers hear you say that, Summer. They’re not too keen on the idea of two blokes together, as you well know.’
Summer scowled at Marcus, as did Fiona. ‘I really don’t care what they think. Phillip is happy and that’s all that matters to me. Don’t tell me you’re homophobic as well?’
Marcus grabbed his white napkin from the table and waved it in the air, signalling he wasn’t up for the battle. ‘Geez, don’t drag me into it, Miss Stroppy, I was just saying – sorry.’
Summer smiled, feeling bad for going on the defence. ‘Sorry, Marcus, I’m just tired of hearing both our fathers’ qualms about homosexuality. They’ve been on about it since we were kids.’
The table fell silent.
As if on cue, Fiona and Bailey stood, hastily gathering the plates. ‘We’ll clean up, and then we’re off for a walk along the beach, seeing it’s a full moon.’ Fiona winked at Bailey, her true reason for a rendezvous on the beach completely obvious.
Summer chuckled at her mate. ‘Just make sure you don’t get taken by a croc. Apparently somebody reported seeing one wandering along the beach last week. I swear the buggers are getting more brazen every year.’
Fiona flexed her arm muscles, or lack of. ‘Pfft, I’ll take a croc on with these babies, no worries.’
The four burst out into laughter, the heavy mood around the table lifting.
Marcus was the first to speak after they’d composed themselves. ‘Have fun you two, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ He turned to Summer. ‘Speaking of which, I have a cocktail to make for you – another pina colada or something different?’
‘A pina colada sounds good, thanks, but I’m only having one so don’t try to talk me into any more after that. I’m determined to hit the sack early tonight. I’d like to be up before dawn to do some yoga on the beach again. It was awesome today.’
Marcus rolled his eyes, a cheeky smile tugging the corner of his lips. ‘All right, only one, little Miss Party Pooper! And I promise I’ll be a good boy and won’t pressure you into having any more.’ He saluted. ‘Scout’s honour.’
Summer smiled, glad she was finally relaxing in Marcus’s company. ‘Good, ’cause I ain’t going to change my mind, Mr Pushy.’ She watched him head to the bar, doing his happy jig once again, his over-the-top bum wiggling making her laugh.
Marcus returned to the poolside table with a delicious-looking cocktail in each hand and a devious smile on his lips. Clinging to her drink he gazed at her, the sudden uncomfortable silence making her want to dissolve into thin air. Then he winked and handed her the tall glass decorated with fresh pineapple. Summer groaned inwardly. She could safely say the sleazy side of Marcus was back, and with a vengeance. She weighed him up as he sat down opposite her, getting the feeling he was hoping for more than just a friendly after-dinner drink. Oh shit. He smiled, his gaze lingering on her a little too long. She rested her head back, pretending to be engrossed in the stars. What was she going to do now? Why had she agreed to this cocktail?
By the time their conversation began to wane, Summer was feeling a weird sensation wash over her, all the way from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She took a deep breath and then another, trying to steady her rapidly increasing pulse. Every inch of her flickered between tingling and numbness, making her feel ethereal. Oh God, what’s wrong with me? Am I having a heart attack? Grabbing hold of the table with both hands to steady herself even though she was still seated, she tried to focus. The ground beneath her moved as if it was the ocean, and everything in front of her whirled. Marcus looked as if he had three heads. She strained her eyes, trying with all her might to make out his rippling silhouette. He was saying something about relaxing and having fun but she couldn’t quite decipher his words, his speech sounding slurred. She blinked her leaden eyelids, the weight of them too much and they drifted shut. Her brain felt like dirty laundry sloshing from one side of her skull to the other. Panic consumed her as all her senses heightened. Her skin felt as though a million ants crawled beneath it but at the same time it seemed as though she was floating among the stars. Her already galloping heart rate picked up pace and she clutched her chest, slouching forwards, nausea swelling inside her. A warm hand touched hers, sending a flood of goose bumps over her highly sensitised skin. A peculiar sensation of euphoria engulfed her, as though a floodgate of endorphins had been released.
‘It’s okay, Summer, just relax and you’ll be fine. Just go with the flow.’
The male voice was distant, but familiar. Was it Marcus, Bailey, her dad? She tried to answer but her words couldn’t find the right path to her lips. Bizarrely, she pictured all the words as a muddled up heap in her mouth, each letter rolling around on her tongue in an almost comical fashion. The thought fuelled her panic, the roller coaster of sensations and distorted perceptions terrifying her. Dizziness consumed her and she slumped forward into unknown arms, her world feeling as though it was spinning out of control.
CHAPTER
5
The Lockwoods’ boisterous old rooster, Macca, officially announced the dawning of the new day, his bright red comb and wattle wobbling as he stridently cock-a-doodle-dooed. Blinking open sleep-heavy eyes, Dean took a few seconds to realise he was back at Whispering Meadows, in his parents’ modest three-bedroom, one-bathroom weatherboard home, and the realisation was immensely comforting.
Pulling the thin cotton sheet up around his chin, Dean allowed himself a few leisurely minutes to wake fully, the thought of not having to dive out of bed and continue fighting a never-ending war a rare luxury. In a way, he felt guilty enjoying this simple pleasure when Tommy was still lying in a hospital bed back in Germany, fighting for his life, but honestly, what could he do from here? Kim had tried to reassure him by saying Tommy was in God’s good hands but that gave Dean no comfort. His sister was speaking of the same God who had taken his mother so prematurely and so devastatingly. What kind of God would do that? His Mum had been a devoted Catholic and had passed her faith onto her children, but after losing her so suddenly and on top of witnessing the horrors of war, Dean found himself questioning this God more and more.
At the very least he should be thankful that God hadn’t taken Tommy through the pearly gates of heaven when the bomb went off. And if the coin had flipped differently, it would have been he and Indy out there, not Tommy and Rebel. Would they have found the IED before it had detonated? Would Tommy have been spared the agony he was going through if Dean had lost the toss and gone out first? The guilt Dean felt was immense, but nothing he did now would change the situation.
His thoughts drifted to Tommy’s bubbly wife, Renee, and their two young children, Luke and Shelby, and Tommy’s mother, who were all over in Germany so they could be by the hospital bed when Tommy came out of his induced coma. Tommy’s father, Jim, had reluctantly remained in Australia because the family’s 500-acre fruit farm was in full swing at this time of the year. One of the family had to remain here to keep i
t flowing smoothly, otherwise they could risk losing an entire year’s profit.
Determined to change his train of thought before it overpowered him, Dean recalled the previous night and allowed a small smile. The little cottage still felt homelike, thanks to Kim’s tireless efforts, everything spick and span and just as his mother had left it. The three-course dinner Kim had so lovingly prepared had been beautiful and the time it allowed him to spend with his family around the old mango-wood dining table was precious. Max’s youthful innocence and contagious laughter had been a remedy to his heavy heart. Even Tony had seemed to enjoy himself; his contribution to the dinner conversation lacking but his fleeting smiles as he occasionally glanced at Dean priceless.
Throughout the meal, Dean had chosen to not look down the end of the eight-seater table, where his mother’s chair sat empty. He may have been a hard-to-the-core soldier but there were certain things he just couldn’t face, and coming to grips with the loss of his mother was one of them. One day he would have to find the strength to overcome his grief, but for now he just wasn’t ready for it – much like his dad, he supposed.
Enveloped by the early-morning silence of the cottage, Dean heard the gentle pitter-patter of rain as it began to fall on the old tin roof, the most beautiful sound in the world to him. If only he had a woman he was deeply in love with sleeping beside him right now, he would press gentle kisses over her face to wake her and then proceed to make slow, passionate love to her.
His heart ached a little as he thought of his childhood sweetheart, Kate. He’d been shattered when he’d arrived home a few days early from his posting overseas only to discover her in bed with another man. He didn’t accept the poor excuse that she was lonely while he was away at war. The bloke was from a wealthy family; had she strayed because he was able to offer her the cushy lifestyle she always spoke of? Whatever the reason, love was meant to conquer everything, and give her a damned good reason to stay true to him, as he had her. Within weeks, though, her new relationship had gone pear-shaped when the bloke had gone off to conquer his next target and Kate had begged Dean to take her back, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive her – once a cheater always a cheater.