Sweet Delights

by P. L. Harris

  It had been the talk of the town. The flighty, rebellious daughter of Greg and Susan Harlow was back. Jobless, fiancé-less and with nothing to show for years of travelling around the country with hardly a dollar to her name. The gossips had had a field day, none more so than old Grandma Whelan. The same woman who would be meeting her at the golf club today, tapping her trademark pointy-toed shoes impatiently, staring down her nose at Jemma as she always had. Jonah Whelan and his bride-to-be, Jackie, were everything she and Brodie had never been. Perfect home, perfect jobs, perfect faces—

  Later, Jemma would dimly remember seeing the old, white-painted tyre on the side of the road, with the words ‘STOCK AHEAD’ splashed on it in messy red writing. Lost in her bitter thoughts at the time, though, she had been startled to see the huge flock of sheep spread across the road in front of her as she rounded the bend.

  “Holy sheeeeeep!” she shrieked, slamming on the brakes. The little Festiva skated across the slippery dirt road, fishtailing like crazy as Jemma wrestled with the steering wheel. One large spin later, the Festiva came to rest by the side of the road. The engine gave a last shudder, then stopped.

  Jemma breathed deeply, slowly easing her white-knuckled hands off the wheel. She couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror at the cake...or what remained of it. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, groaning loudly.

  “No, no, no...” There was a loud thump against her window, and she screamed as a kelpie’s face loomed in her window, barking loudly.

  “Blue, stop it! Down.”

  The dog’s face was swiftly replaced by a young man’s, his hazel eyes full of worry. He tapped on the window frantically, and Jemma saw his mouth moving, but her ears were still ringing too much to make out the muffled words. Recovering her senses, she wound down the window.

  “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t concentrating. Did I—did I hit any?”

  “Nah, the sheep are fine. Scattered them a bit, but we’ll soon round them up. Are you okay, though? That was a wild skid...” The man’s voice trailed off as he leaned closer. “No way—is that you, Jem? Jemma Harlow?”

  Lowering her brows, Jemma looked at the man more closely. There was something familiar about those eyes, that scruffy brown hair, the crooked smile with the little dimple...

  “Who...Tucks? Wow, the people you meet on the dusty backroads. It’s been years!” A grin lifted her lips.

  Zane Tucker, known commonly as Tucks, had been part of Melody’s crew at high school. He was several years older than Jemma and she had crushed on him from afar, never quite brave enough to hang out with them. A slow burn crept over her cheeks as she remembered the pages and pages she’d dedicated to him in her journals. ‘Jem loves Tucks’, ‘J4T’, ‘Mrs. Jemma Tucker’...

  Holding her breath, Jemma suddenly remembered what she was doing out here and she grimaced.

  “The cake, can you—I can’t look. Is it—is it okay?” Tucks gave her an odd look but leaned to the side, peering into the back of the Festiva. His expression was all the confirmation Jemma needed. Covering her face with her hands, she lowered her chin to her chest and doubled over, fighting to breathe as tears welled in her eyes.

  Oh, Mel. I’ve ruined everything. I’m a walking disaster.

  “Hey now. Jem, what’s wrong?” The sound of someone whistling loudly made Jemma and Tucks look up. Further down the road, Carl Tucker, Zane’s father, was watching them worriedly.

  “Zane, what are you doing? Is she alright?”

  “Yeah, Dad. It’s Jemma Harlow, Mel Fielke’s sister. Will you be ’right to move them without me? She needs a hand with something.” Giving the Festiva a quick glance over, Tucks pursed his lips. “I may need the ute.”

  Carl clucked his tongue, “C’mon then, Blue. We’ll see you home later.” The kelpie had been waiting by Tucks’ side, but now he bounded away, circling the sheep.

  “Oh, no, don’t let me keep you. You guys look busy, I’ll be fine,” Jemma stuttered, but Tucks was already opening her door.

  “It’s no trouble, we’re only shifting them to the next paddock, nothing major. Dad’ll be fine. You look like you need more help than he does.” Tucks grimaced. “I mean, with the cake. Not with—well, with...”

  “With my mess of a life?”

  Tucks frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Replacing his expression with a crooked smile, he added, “Besides, it brought you back here to us, didn’t it? Nothing bad about that.”

  Jemma’s heart fluttered wildly in her chest and a flush spread across her cheeks. It was as though she were a teenager again, swooning over the handsome farm boy with his dimples and his dusty boots. A far cry from Brodie the marketing executive...

  “Well, when you put it that way,” she hurriedly replied, shutting down all thoughts of Brodie. Gathering her courage, Jemma stepped out of the car and made her way nervously to the boot. Unlatching it, she lifted the hood and stared at the crumpled box. The container of fresh flowers had been flung sideways and was resting upside-down. Mel had packed an ‘emergency first-aid kit’ for the cake; a tub of fresh buttercream, some spatulas and other tools Jemma couldn’t place. This, ironically, seemed to have been the cause of most of the damage. Leaning further in, she could see that the kit had smashed into the box in several places, leaving dents and patches of crumpled cardboard.

  “So, the cake—I take it it’s one of Mel’s?” Tucks asked, looping his thumbs through his belt. Jemma nodded, a weight settling in her chest like lead. If this cake was ruined, so was Mel’s career...and it would be all her fault.

  “It’s her first wedding cake commission. She woke up with an awful cold so asked me to transport it to the golf club this morning. It’s for the—”

  “Whelan wedding,” Tucks finished with her, wincing painfully. “Wow, the whole town’s going to that thing.”

  Jemma gave a pained whimper. “Don’t remind me. This is such a huge deal for Mel. You know what Grandma Whelan’s like; every man and his dog will hear about it. It could make or break her business. And I’ve probably just broken it.” The tears returned, filling her vision, and causing her to turn away. A gentle hand on her back sent her pulse racing.

  “Who says? You haven’t even seen the cake yet—I mean, yeah, it doesn’t look great from here. The box is a bit battered, but that doesn’t mean the inside isn’t still beautiful, does it?” His finger twitched lightly against Jemma’s shoulder blade. Clearing his throat, Tucks continued, “Let me help. I’ve got the ute here; we can shift it into the tray.”

  Jemma shook her head, ignoring the tingles on her back where he’d touched her. “No, Mel said it has to stay cold.” She gasped, pressing her hands against her cheeks. “Oh, it’s probably already melting, it’s been sitting here for a while already. Trust Jonah Whelan to have a perfect sunny September day for his wedding.” The sweat was already beading on her forehead and she wiped it absently.

  Tucks stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Your car, will it start at all?” Jemma reached into the front and turned the key. There was a feeble whine, but the car was dead. Frustrated, she kicked the wheel, forgetting that she was wearing sandals.

  “Ow! Oh, for pity’s sake! Why? Why did I do that?” she muttered, hobbling away from the car. A stifled chuckle made her glance up. Tucks was pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, shadowing his eyes with his floppy hat. Despite herself, a giggle bubbled up in her chest, easing the heaviness a little. Reaching out, she slapped him playfully on the arm. “So much for helping a damsel in distress.”

  He met her eyes and Jemma’s throat tightened, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. There was a flicker of something in the way he smiled at her.

  “I’d never think of you as a distressed damsel, Jem.” Taking a step forward, he reached out his hand, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

  Jemma scuffed her feet shyly. “Um, we better get this cake into town. I really don’t want to let Mel down. I’m surprise
d she hasn’t tried to ring me already and check up on it—it’s like one of her kids.”

  Tucks shook his head, mentally kicking himself. “She’s probably tried, but we’re in a black zone.” He waved his own phone with a wry smile. “No service out here.” Placing it back in his pocket, he propped his hands on his hips. “But, anyway, let’s get this cake sorted out. I’ll just run and grab the ute, it’s back by the paddock gate there, ‘round the corner,” he gestured behind them. “I’ll just be a tick, hold tight.” Turning away, he started jogging, boots kicking up puffs of dust as he ran.

  Jemma watched him go, her mind a jumble of emotions. Squashing down her thoughts, she focused on the cake.

  “Now, how do we get you out of there?” Grabbing the flower container and the repair kit, she placed them gently down on the ground beside her. Carefully, she eased her hands around the base of the box and started wriggling it towards her. Mel had placed it on a non-slip piece of foam.

  It certainly works.

  There was no way the cake was going to slide, they’d have to lift it straight up. It gave her a glimmer of hope, though. Perhaps the cake hadn’t slid around as much as she’d thought.

  The ute rumbled up behind her, Tucks peering cautiously out the window as he pulled up beside the Festiva. His Triton dwarfed Jemma’s car, and she raised her eyebrows appreciatively. As he climbed out, she called, “Bit of an upgrade from the old Corolla, isn’t it?”

  Tucks winked at her with a grin. “I’m a bit bigger than I was back then—a real man needs a man-sized car, doesn’t he?” Jemma lowered her gaze, fighting a smile. Brodie had driven a hatchback.

  Joining her, Tucks studied the battered box. “I reckon this will fit on the backseat easy enough, but I might get you to ride beside it, okay? Just to make sure it doesn’t wriggle. Here, if I lift it, you can get that mat onto the seat, yeah?”

  Jemma nodded. “Careful, though—it’s pretty heavy.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I think I’ll be okay, it’s just cake.”

  Setting his hands, Tucks bent his knees and lifted the box with a grunt. Seeing the shocked look on his face, Jemma snorted. “You sure you’ve got it, champ?”

  Tucks’ cheeks were reddening and he huffed, “Yep. Hurry up, though.”

  Quickly scooping up the non-slip mat, Jemma hurriedly opened the passenger door of the Triton and spread it out, stepping aside as Tucks moved in beside her, arm muscles straining as he lowered the cake box down as carefully as he could. The scent of sweat and dust and cologne filled Jemma’s nostrils. Resisting the urge to sigh, she squeezed out of the way, trying to ignore the clamminess creeping over her palms as she picked up the containers she’d placed on the ground.

  Once the cake was secure, Tucks placed his hands on his knees and let out a long breath. “What did Mel make that out of? Bricks or concrete?”

  Jemma laughed. “It’s the Whelan cake—it’s an extravagant tower of caramel mud cake and vanilla buttercream. Poor Mel needed Jason to carry it, she couldn’t lift it. I think it has more dowel rods in it than actual cake.”

  Tucks shook his head. “If I ever get married, I’m just going to buy a Woolies mud cake and be done with it. Way less hassle.” His face twitched and he glanced at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I forgot about the...uh...”

  Jemma waved her hand dismissively. “I wish we’d gone with that idea; it would have saved me a lot of money.” She snorted. “If we don’t hurry, the Whelans will have to do the same. Could you imagine old Granny’s face if we rock up with a Woolies cake?” The pair laughed, and Jemma’s spirits lightened, like sunshine bursting through a cloudy sky. It was good to laugh again.

  Tucks gestured to the Festiva. “Once we get into town, I’ll ring Bob and get him to tow this to his place, alright? He can fix it up for you. Is there anything else you need to bring?”

  Flicking her eyes at the car, Jemma chewed her lip. “I think I’ve got everything I need for the cake, I’ll just grab my bag.”

  Once she was settled beside the cake, Jemma relaxed slightly.

  Thank goodness for Tucks.

  Meeting his eye in the rear-view mirror as he slid into his seat, she smiled, suddenly shy. “Um, we’ll need the aircon on full-blast. Mel’s orders.” His mouth lifted in a warm smile.

  “I know better than to argue with Mel. Get ready—it might get a little chilly back there.”

  He wasn’t kidding. They’d only driven a few kilometres down the road when Jemma began to shiver. Tucks glanced at her in the mirror, a smile curling the corner of his lips. “I warned you. There should be a jacket back there somewhere. It might smell a bit, but it’ll keep you warm.”

  Scrambling under the passenger seat, Jemma drew out the dusty oilskin jacket. Draping it over her chest, she burrowed her nose into the fabric, inhaling the smell of country that city people just didn’t understand. No matter how hard she’d tried, Jemma had never found her place in the hustle and bustle of city life. Her soul had longed for the comfort and familiarity of the farms, of the river and the quiet.

  But her homecoming had not brought her the peace she had hoped for. Instead, she had come back to rumours and gossip, unable to even visit the shops without feeling eyes boring into her back. Here in the ute, though, with this smelly, dusty jacket wrapped around her, she had finally found the missing piece that her soul had been craving. For the first time since she’d returned from Brisbane, Jemma felt like she was home.

  The trip into town seemed to be over far sooner than Jemma wanted. As they turned towards the golf club, she placed a hand on the cake box protectively, the butterflies in her stomach taking flight. The moment of truth was approaching fast; had Mel’s cake survived the trip? Glancing at her phone, she saw the flurry of messages pop up on the screen now that they had service again. All but one was from Mel. Wincing, she gave a shaky sigh. Meeting her eye in the rear-view mirror, Tucks murmured reassuringly,

  “We’ll get it sorted, Jem. I won’t let you handle it alone, okay?”

  “Thanks, Tucks,” she whispered, mouth as dry as sandpaper. As the Triton rolled up to the front of the club, her knees began to tremble. Grandma Whelan was waiting for them, her pointed shoes tapping impatiently, just as she had dreaded. Feeling the breath catch in her throat, Jemma clutched Tuck’s jacket close to her chest, taking one last whiff of the comforting smell.

  As he cut the engine, Tucks turned and placed a hand on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. She nodded at him, unable to speak. With that, he opened his door and stepped out, greeting Grandma Whelan politely.

  “G’morning, Mrs. Whelan. Sorry the cake’s a bit late, some of my sheep got loose and delayed Jemma. Just tell me where you need it to go and I’ll carry it in.”

  Grandma Whelan’s face peered through the window, her lips squeezed so tightly they were almost invisible. Taking a deep breath, Jemma pushed her door open. The blast of warm air was a far cry from the icy chill of the ute cab and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead immediately.

  “Um, Tucks, we need to get the cake into the cool room quickly. It’s—it’s pretty hot out here.” Facing Grandma Whelan, Jemma stuttered, “Excuse me, Mrs. Whelan, we need to hurry. I’m sorry I’m so late. Mel sends her apologies—”

  “If this cake is ruined, Jemma, you can be sure I’ll have words with Melody. Had I known she had asked you to deliver it...”

  Jemma’s cheeks burned. A firm cough interrupted Grandma Whelan as Tucks stepped forward.

  “It’s getting warmer out here by the second. If you’ll please excuse us...” he moved towards Jemma pointedly.

  Opening her mouth as if to say more, Grandma Whelan paused, glancing from Tucks to Jemma. “Well, then. Thank you, Zane. I hope it hasn’t been too much trouble.” Turning on her heel, she strode back towards the club, calling to one of the ladies hauling a bunch of flowers through the door.

  Running a hand over her hair, Jemma turned to Tucks. “That could have been worse. She’s never liked me much. Perhaps I
shouldn’t have shaved Jonah’s eyebrows off before prom all those years ago?”

  Tucks chortled, eyes lighting up. “Oh wow, that was you? I heard about that, but they never knew who’d done it. That’s brilliant. No wonder you didn’t want to face her.”

  Jemma’s mouth curled in a wry smile. “I’m like the Banksy of the eyebrow world.” Shifting her focus away from Tucks’ dimples, she frowned at the cake. “Should we get someone to help you carry it in? I’d hate to drop it right on the doorstep.”

  Within moments, Tucks and some of the kitchen hands were in the cool room, placing the box gingerly on the wheeled table. It was the moment of truth. With trembling hands, Jemma carefully pulled the box open. The giant stack of caramel mud cake and vanilla buttercream was still standing. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. As they eased the cake out of the box, Jemma bit her lip. There were patches where the buttercream had bumped the sides of the box, and a couple of small chunks were missing off the top layer. But it was fixable.

  Tucks had been watching her face carefully, and he visibly relaxed when she gave a relieved smile. “I think we can fix it. Do you know anything about smoothing buttercream?”

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve iced too many cakes, but I’ve plastered a few walls in my time. It’s pretty much the same, right?”

  Jemma grinned at him. “Absolutely.”

  A short time later, the pair were standing back and admiring the cake. The buttercream was smooth and velvety, and Jemma had placed the roses and sweet-peas exactly how Mel had drawn them on her design sheet. While the flowers were perhaps a little more wilted than she wanted, Jemma knew Mel would be proud. Snapping several photos to send her sister, she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. Turning to Tucks, she threw her arms around him, surprising them both.

  “Thank you so much. I never could have done this without you.”

  His hand patted her back gently, before he pulled away slightly. “Did you have any plans for the rest of the day? I hear there’s some big event happening, the whole town’s going to be there.”