by Mandy Magro
Loudly clearing his throat, Donald held his glass up in the air. ‘I’d like to propose a toast – to my beautiful wife, and Sara and Summer, for preparing a wonderful feast … thank you.’ He turned to Marie, his smile faltering momentarily. ‘And thank you for standing by me all these years, it hasn’t been such a tough life, but I know it is different to what you had envisioned. I s’pose coming in second has its pitfalls, but I wouldn’t change a thing.’ He winked at Marie.
Either Vince and Sara were too drunk to notice Donald’s last statement, or they chose to ignore it altogether, but they clapped and cheered before holding up their glasses. Summer kept her eyes on her mother, Marie’s colour draining from her face rapidly as she forced a wobbly smile and raised her glass. Marcus even made the effort to raise his beer. Summer followed suit, her mind spinning as she wondered what ‘coming in second’ meant. Did it have something to do with what her mum had told her about loving another before her father?
Bowls and plates clanked as they were passed around the table and everyone began dishing up their Christmas meal, the looming tension dissipating a little as Michael Buble’s calming voice soothed the strained vibes of the room. The conversation thankfully began to flow freely between the parents, the topics of conversation ranging from the gall of a big fast food giant trying to make it into their little village once again, to the excitement of the upcoming New Year’s Eve party. Summer spoke when spoken to and tried to avoid Marcus’s gaze, the tension between them so thick she could have cut it with a knife.
Nearing the end of her tether, she decided to bite the bullet and make Marcus talk to her. If they were going to be under the same roof for the entire holidays, they’d have to learn to at least be civil, for everyone’s sake as well as their own.
‘So what plans have you got for the rest of the summer holidays, Marcus? You catching up with anyone from high school?’
Marcus chased a roast potato around his plate with his fork while shrugging his shoulders. ‘Dunno.’
Vince elbowed his son good-naturedly. ‘I’m sure you’ve got some exciting plans you can tell us about.’
‘Nope,’ Marcus replied nonchalantly.
‘Oh, come on, son, you’ve barely spoken a word all day. Try to get into the Christmas spirit would you? Anyone would think it’s the end of the world.’
His jaw clenched and glaring at his father, Marcus threw his fork onto his plate. ‘Well, if you stopped to care about someone else’s world other than your own, you might find it in yourself to understand me.’ Pushing himself from the table, chair flying out behind him, Marcus stormed towards the door. ‘Fuck it! You’ll never understand! I couldn’t be bothered – I’m outta here. If you want me, I’ll be staying at Bailey’s.’
And he was gone, leaving four sets of bewildered eyes staring after him. Summer kept her eyes glued to her plate, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. She couldn’t help but feel the way Marcus was acting was partly her fault. Yes, he had done the wrong thing, but she had also shattered his pride. What a tangled web.
Vince chuckled uncomfortably while trying to lighten the mood. ‘Kids hey? You can’t live with them, can’t live without them.’
Sara laughed a little too loudly, agreeing with him, and Marie and Donald did the same. Summer took a swig from her Moët, wishing she could be anywhere but here.
CHAPTER
11
Bleary-eyed, Dean spooned four soggy Weetbix around his bowl, his appetite having up and left the moment he found out about Tommy’s passing. It had been three days now, and the shock of it all was still intense. Physically, emotionally and mentally, he was exhausted. If only he could sleep but it had been impossible, wonderful memories of growing up with Tommy consuming his thoughts, and then when he did finally fall asleep, nightmares inundated his mind: Tommy being buried alive, or blown to pieces right in front of him by the IED. Tommy’s brutal death had also ripped away the imaginary bandage he had wrapped round his heart after the loss of his mother, leaving a gaping wound so deep the heartache left him feeling lifeless.
The shuffle of a newspaper dragged Dean’s gaze from his bowl and across the table, his father’s unsmiling face crinkled with concern as he peered at him over his square-framed reading glasses. ‘Sage, I’m worried about you. You’ve barely spoken a word since Christmas Day and I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything substantial either. You have every right to be feeling how you are, son, but maybe it would be nice if you caught up with Summer today.’ A wisp of a grin tugged at his lips. ‘That girl can bring a smile to anyone’s face, no matter what they’re going through.’
With effort, Dean nodded. ‘Yeah, I should really. She’s been texting me for the past couple of days, asking if I’m okay. I know she wants to see me, but I just haven’t wanted to put my shit on her.’ He gruffly ran his hands over his face, sighing. ‘Bloody hell, Dad, why has life got to be so fucking hard all the time?’
Tony grunted. ‘Who knows, Dean? I certainly don’t. But take it from me, if you push that pain down too far, it will poison you, just like my grief and guilt over your mother’s death has poisoned me …’ Tony’s voice trailed off, his face muscles twitching. ‘One day I hope I can face it, hope I can talk about the accident … one day.’
Taken aback, Dean sat in stunned silence. His father had never spoken about his feelings since that fateful day. He quickly recomposed himself, wanting to capture this moment and run with it. ‘Dad, I’m always here for you to talk to, any time, you know that, don’t you?’
Tony took a bite of his guava jelly–smothered toast, contemplation creasing his forehead. ‘Thanks, Sage, I know you are, but like you, I don’t want to put my shit on anyone else.’
Dean chuckled, shaking his head. ‘God, we’re alike, you and I. But honestly, Dad, please, I wish you would talk to me – actually, anybody, for that matter. I reckon it would help you, heaps.’
Tony licked the sweet jam from his lips. ‘When I’m ready, I will, but not a second before. Okay? Your sister is on my case constantly, and to be honest, it just makes me want to bottle it up more. Yes, I’m a stubborn old bastard, but I’m me, and that’s that.’
‘Yup, you are, and even though it frustrates me, I understand where you’re coming from. I’m exactly the same, I guess.’ Dean stood, casually making his way over to the sink with his uneaten breakfast.
Tony rolled his wheelchair over beside Dean, his plate and empty coffee cup balanced in his lap. ‘She really is a beautiful girl. I hope things work out for you two.’ He winked. ‘You’d have good-looking kids.’
Dean smiled for the first time in days. ‘Kids? Slow down there, cupid. But yeah, I really hope things work out with her too. I like her a lot.’ Dean stopped rinsing his plate, eyebrows raised. ‘You really have a soft spot for her, don’t you? What makes you so sure of her? You sound like you’ve known her for a lifetime, not just a week.’
‘Oh, I knew her mother, a very long time ago, down in New South Wales, and she was a wonderful woman. We went to high school together. Summer reminds me so much of her – looks exactly like her, even down to her bright blue eyes and captivating smile.’
Tony’s response was so blasé, it threw Dean for a six. He turned from the sink, arms crossed, his sock-covered foot tapping the timber floorboards with impatience. ‘And why didn’t you tell me this before?’
Tony shrugged. ‘I didn’t think it was that important. It was a lifetime ago, son. I just find it so bizarre that we both ended up living in the same town. Funny how life works, hey? There must be a karmic reason for it – and I reckon it might be you and Summer …’ Turning his wheelchair with ease, he headed to the lounge room, Matilda right behind him, leaving Dean shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why don’t you go and do some exercise, Sage? It’ll do you good, and help you forget about everything for a while.’
‘Hmm. Good idea, old man, I reckon that’s just the medicine I need. When I get back from grabbing some fodder in town for the horses, and after the fenci
ng that’s gotta be fixed over in the back paddock, of course. I’ll give Summer a call, too, invite her over for the afternoon. Maybe it’d be nice to have a barbecue tonight.’
Dean knew there was something significant his dad wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to push it and ruin the little headway they’d made. All in good time. If there was one thing that the war had taught him, it was to have patience. He wondered if Summer knew about his dad and her mum knowing one another when they were teenagers. And if she did, why hadn’t she mentioned it?
‘Good on ya, son! I’ll give Kimmy a ring to see if she and Max want to join us. It’ll be great for Summer to meet them both.’
‘Excellent idea, Dad,’ Dean said, pulling on his Blundstones before heading out into the gloriously sunny day.
Hanging up after chatting to Fiona for almost an hour, Summer took a sip from her fresh watermelon, strawberry, wheatgrass and mint juice. She glanced over at the pool from her sunlounger and laughed as Fonzie dive bombed in the shallow end, caught the floating tennis ball in his mouth, and then paddled like crazy to the steps before scuttling out, dropping the ball back in the water, and doing it all over again. He’d do it for hours if she let him – her little mate had too much energy for his own good.
As usual, her thoughts drifted straight back to Dean. His handsome face was burnt into her mind, and his searing hot kiss had left a pleasurable warmth on her lips for days. She’d tried to call him on Boxing Day but he hadn’t answered, so she’d made sure to send him a text every day since she’d learnt of Tommy’s death, just checking in to see how he was doing and letting him know she was there for him. He always replied, but his answers were short. She could feel he had distanced himself from her, but understood that that was how some people coped with bereavement and she mustn’t take it personally, although that was harder said than done. He would come around in his own time, but far out, she was missing him like crazy.
Her drink finished, she grabbed her last piece of tuna and avocado sushi and relaxed further into her lounger, her skin tingling from the balmy warmth of the sun. Looking towards the ocean she smiled, Marcus’s decision to stay with Bailey for the rest of the holidays a relief. She knew he would be here with bells on for the New Year’s Eve party – not one to miss an opportunity to rub shoulders with the wealthy – but at least there’d be so many people she’d be able to stealthily avoid him all night. She was also hoping to invite Dean along, if he was up for it. Surely having a big, strong man like Dean in her company would help keep Marcus at bay, wouldn’t it?
Drifting pleasurably in limbo land, her eyes closed and her body warm from the sun, Summer felt a shadow loom over her. Flicking her eyes open, she saw her mum smile down at her, dressed in a designer bikini, a large straw hat and a white kaftan. ‘Hi there, sweetheart, would you mind if your old mum joined you for some sun worshipping? I feel like I’m desperately in need of some vitamin D.’
Summer tapped the sunlounger beside her. ‘Not at all, Mum, that’d be fun. And by the way, you’re not old.’
Giggling, Marie got herself comfortable by removing her kaftan and lying back. ‘Sara and Vince have gone off to visit family for the day so you, me and your father have the house to ourselves, which will be nice. Your dad’s getting dressed in his swimmers now – he’ll be out shortly.’
‘Well, before he gets down here there’s something I want to ask you.’
‘Shoot, sweetheart.’
Summer rolled onto her stomach, wishing she could see her mother’s eyes beneath her dark sunglasses. ‘Would it be okay if I invited Dean to the New Year’s Eve party?’
‘Um, of course. Your father has gotten the gist that you and Marcus are not going to be getting back together, and he’s deeply disappointed, but he can’t expect you to never date anyone else. But be prepared for him to give Dean the third degree, you know what he’s like when it comes to you and boys.’ Marie twisted her hair around her finger, something Summer knew she did when she was feeling uncomfortable. ‘Will you be inviting Dean’s dad, Summer?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah, I s’pose I will. It’d be nice for him to come along too.’
‘Yes, it would be, and it’d be impolite not to invite him if you’re asking Dean to come along.’ Marie’s voice was shaky.
Summer’s belly flipped as she decided to grab the opportunity to ask her mum more about her high school friendship with Tony, and also about her father’s subtle yet confronting toast on Christmas Day, but her father joined them before she could speak.
‘There’s my two beautiful ladies,’ Donald said, his pale skin almost iridescent in the bright sunshine.
Summer giggled at his choice of swimwear: bright yellow board shorts adorned with pink frangipanis; he’d obviously been shopping with her mother. It was nice to see the tension between her parents from Christmas Day gone. ‘Hey Dad, looking a bit hip there, I must say.’
Donald smiled as he pretended he was modelling on the end of a catwalk. ‘I’m glad you approve, Summer.’
‘Oh Dad, you’re a dag at times!’
Donald laughed, his pudgy belly jiggling as he did so. ‘Would either of you like a drink? I’m going to go make myself a martini.’
‘I’d love a dry martini, thanks, darling,’ Marie said as she rubbed coconut-tanning oil on her legs.
‘I’m right thanks, Dad,’ Summer said, jumping slightly as her mobile phone started ringing, her insides somersaulting when she spotted the caller ID was Dean’s. Thank God!
‘Hey, Dean.’
‘Hi, beautiful, sorry I’ve been MIA the last few days.’
Summer’s heart ached for his loss. ‘Don’t apologise, I completely understand. How are you feeling?’
‘To be honest, like shit – you want to come over and help cheer me up? I miss you.’
Summer smiled with his words. ‘Yup, would love to. I miss you too. See you in about an hour.’
‘Great, see you soon.’
Sweating after pressing weights in the middle of the day, Dean adjusted the wrappings on his hands and sucked in a deep breath before slamming his fists repeatedly into the leather punching bag, the rhythmic thuds helping to calm the anger that had been charging through him. Grunting with effort, Dean imagined the boxing bag was the Afghan responsible for planting the bomb that had killed Tommy and Rebel, his punches becoming harder, faster and filled with conviction. Sweat poured down his face and stung his eyes, but he ignored it, his concentration unwavering as the bag swung violently, the chain it hung from squeaking with each sway. Reverberations radiated down his arm, the sensation driving him on, the power of his punch leaving a deep dent in the heavy bag. A little blood trickled from his left hand and dripped onto the dirt floor, the pain nothing compared to the gut-wrenching torment inside him.
Dust particles floated in the rays of sunshine streaming through the rivet holes of the corrugated iron walls. Matilda sat off to the side, her head resting on the floor of the old shed, watching Dean’s every move. He gave her a fleeting smile before lifting his leg to kick the bag, his foot slapping hard against the leather. Since finding out about Tommy, Dean had noticed that Matilda hadn’t left his side, his loyal friend knowing that her master was suffering, her compassionate actions confirming his belief that dogs really were a man’s best friend. It made him think of Indy and then what had happened to Rebel, and his heart twisted. It would kill him if anything like that ever happened to his much-loved war dog. The very thought of it enraged him more and he danced like a professional boxer, once again kicking the bag with so much force it almost ricocheted off the chain it was hanging from.
Placing the large, beautifully wrapped gift on the ground, Summer stood in the shadows of the shed door, watching as Dean pummelled the bag, his jaws clenched, his feet quick and nimble, admiring how his singlet clung to his muscles, the sweat making his tanned skin glisten. He was beyond beautiful, the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. Never would she have believed she cou
ld have fallen for a bloke as quickly as she had for Dean Lockwood, especially after what had happened with Marcus, but it was like she had no control over it, and to be honest, she didn’t want to. She needed to find out for herself where this amazing connection they had was going to take them.
As if sensing her presence, Dean turned to her, smiling in a way that made her legs go weak as he grabbed a towel from the back of a chair and wiped his face. He padded towards her; his eyes boring into hers and making her feel giddy. ‘Hey there, beautiful. How long have you been standing there?’
‘Long enough to find out I should never mess with you,’ Summer said, good-humouredly.
Dean’s arms went around her waist as he pulled her into a kiss that had the power to make the oceans part. Gently pulling back, he whispered in her ear, ‘God, I’ve missed you.’
Still breathless from his kiss, all she could mutter was, ‘I’ve missed you too.’
Spotting the gift at her feet, Dean grinned and pointed. ‘What’s this?’
Summer bent to pick it up, suddenly aware her cleavage was on full display. She stood abruptly, almost knocking Dean out in the process. ‘It’s a housewarming gift. I know the beach shack isn’t finished yet, but I thought it might help make it feel more homelike for you.’
Dean took it from her outstretched arms. ‘Oh, Summer, you didn’t have to do that. But thank you. Do you want me to open it now?’
She looked to where the beach shack stood, its newly varnished front verandah bathed in morning sunlight. ‘How about we go sit over there?’
‘Sounds like a plan to me.’ Dean shook the box, trying to figure out what was inside.
With both of them sitting comfortably on the front steps and Matilda staring at them from her position on the lawn, Dean carefully opened the wrapping paper.