Runaway Bride

by Barbara Hannay

  Looking up, she saw pale glimmers of daylight slanting through the boards on the windows and, finally, she registered the silence. Not a whisper of wind or rain. Just the sound of a car starting up farther down the street.

  The cyclone had passed.

  Somewhat stiffly, she sat up, surprised that she’d slept so well. She’d been in such a state of emotional turmoil last night, she’d expected to toss and turn for hours. But in the end the incessant roar of the wind had worked like a lullaby and she’d slept like a baby.

  Now, she heard voices in the kitchen and she jumped to her feet, ran her fingers through her messy hair.

  Damon appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed in jeans, but without a shirt. He was holding a mug. ‘Ah, the princess wakes. I was bringing Your Highness a cup of coffee.’

  Bella tried very hard to ignore his nicely muscled torso. She was sure he was more toned than most men who spent their days with a laptop and a camcorder. ‘Am I the last one up?’

  ‘No. Paddy and I have decided to let the girls sleep in.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ She took the mug and sipped. The coffee was hot and not too milky. Just right. ‘Is the electricity back on?’

  Damon shook his head. ‘I’d say it’ll be days or even weeks before they can mend all powerlines.’

  ‘Oh. That’s rough for Jessie. What’s it like outside?’

  ‘Not a pretty sight.’ He cocked a head towards the door. ‘Come and see for yourself.’

  Even though Bella had seen glimpses of the wreckage last night, she was shocked by the mess of tangled branches and shredded foliage that littered Jessie’s once-pretty garden. Even the front porch was hidden under a carpet of sodden leaves and broken twigs.

  A massive tree lay uprooted on the road, its exposed roots dangling, while from overhead broken powerlines hung. Worse, was the other tree that had smashed the neighbour’s roof.

  ‘I don’t suppose Jessie’s seen this,’ Bella said.

  ‘No. Paddy’s talked her into having breakfast in bed.’ ‘Poor darling.’

  ‘At least we’re here to clean it up for her.’

  Bella smiled at him. ‘For someone who was determined to be a bad boy, you’ve grown up into a surprisingly good man.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  BLISS.

  Bliss to soak away the mud and the garden grime. Bliss to ease her stiffening muscles, and to look forward to another peaceful, storm-free night in a proper bed.

  After three days of hard work in Jessie’s and her neighbours’ gardens, Bella was exhausted and aching and grimy.

  It had been rewarding work, of course. One of the good things about a disaster was that everyone in the neighbourhood pitched in to help each other. People who, normally, barely said hello had shared tools and gardening gear and lent a hand wherever it was needed. With no power, impromptu barbecues had been organised in backyards and food was shared.

  And as Damon had found a motel with a good generator, they hadn’t had to continue sleeping in Jessie’s lounge room. Bella had been able to enjoy a hot bath each night. True bliss.

  Not so blissful, in fact downright depressing, was the fact that she’d slept alone on each of these nights while Damon slept on the other side of a double-brick dividing wall.

  Depressing or not, the arrangement had been Bella’s idea, and she knew it was totally sensible. Very soon Damon would be on the other side of the world. They’d be hemispheres apart, and she had to get used to the idea of living without him.

  Actually, she had to return to her Damon-free life in less than twenty-four hours. In the morning she would be leaving Port Douglas. It was all arranged that she would fly to Brisbane while Damon drove back to Willara with Paddy and Violet.

  It hadn’t been an easy decision, but, again, it was sensible. Bella was not returning to Willara just yet. She had to start job hunting and she didn’t want the others to have to make a rather long detour just to drive her to Brisbane.

  Apart from that, she knew that spending more time on the road with Damon would only make the final farewell so much more difficult.

  Besides, she was probably a coward, but she didn’t think she could cope with Paddy and Violet’s constant vigilance. She knew they were looking for clues to the true nature of her relationship with Damon.

  If she’d been less conflicted about her feelings for him she might have coped. But, given her constant inner turmoil, this extra pressure would make the trip far too difficult.

  But Bella’s decision to fly meant that she didn’t expect to see Damon again before he left Australia. So in the morning they would be saying goodbye.

  Now, as she added soothing oils to her bathwater, she decided there was one good thing about being really, really tired. She didn’t have the energy to panic.

  That would come later.

  Having insisted that the ‘elders’ enjoy a quiet dinner together on this final night, Bella and Damon found a place that served decent hamburgers. The picnic areas on the beachfront were still strewn with cyclone debris, so they took the burgers back to their motel rooms.

  ‘My place or yours?’ Damon asked as they pulled up outside.

  Bella drew a sharp breath. She knew it was silly to be tense, but until now Damon hadn’t set foot in her room, or she in his. ‘Mine’s probably not as tidy as yours, but I have good coffee,’ she said, pleased that she sounded reasonably calm.

  She wasn’t quite so calm once they were inside her small room. The bed took up most of the space, and the tiny plastic dining table and two chairs were wedged in beside it.

  ‘Choose any seat,’ she said with a sharp little laugh.

  They sat, rather awkwardly, on either side of the small table. But almost immediately Bella felt too hot, and she jumped up to turn down the air conditioning.

  She was still hot and bothered. Damon, on the other hand, looked quite relaxed as he unwrapped his burger.

  ‘Would you like a knife and fork?’ she asked.

  He recoiled in mock horror. ‘The only way to eat a hamburger is with your hands.’

  ‘And with bits of green stuff falling into your lap,’ she said as she rescued shreds of lettuce that had already fallen from her bun.

  Damon frowned, staring at her hands.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘What happened to your fingernails?’ Bella looked down at her hands. ‘I took off the polish. Why?’

  ‘Let me see.’

  Bemused, she set her hamburger down on its paper bag and spread her hands flat on the tabletop. ‘My nails were in such a mess after all that garden work. I had to take the polish off and file them down. What’s the big deal?’

  With a strong fingertip he touched the nail on her forefinger. ‘I’ve never seen them naked.’

  Ridiculously, she felt a rush of heat. Somehow, she forced herself to be flippant. ‘Well, there you go. A first. Maybe you can write about it in your next headline. Young woman exposes naked fingernails in North Queensland.’

  He laughed, and let her hands go, sat back and regarded her with a look that made her insides tumble.

  Oh, heavens. If only she hadn’t made the mistake of falling in love again. Why did this have to be so hard?

  If she were as widely travelled and worldly as Damon, she probably wouldn’t have kept him at arm’s length for these past two nights. And this wouldn’t have to be goodbye. They would have made love every night and, after they parted they’d simply look forward to future reunions.

  But that degree of sophistication was beyond Bella’s reach. She might have worked in Brisbane for several years and started to think of herself as a city chick, but she was still a small-town girl at heart. A one-man girl.

  Her city-girl values were like her nail polish—a veneer. Deep down, she wanted a man who could love her exclusively and forever. She’d spent all these years hopelessly in love with a bad boy when what she really wanted was a good guy. Someone permanent. Someone who wanted to hang out with her more than he w
anted to run away.

  Desperate to fight off these misery-making thoughts, Bella hastily deflected their conversation. ‘I’m so glad we were able to help Jessie.’

  ‘Yes. It was good to pitch in and help.’

  ‘And tomorrow you’ll definitely be helpful. I know Paddy and Violet are secretly relieved that you’re driving back with them. I think they found the trip north much more tiring than they’re prepared to admit.’

  ‘But we’ll miss your company, Bella.’

  ‘Yes, well … You know why I’m not coming. I’m going back to Brisbane and that’s out of your way.’ Lifting her gaze to meet his piercing gaze, she said pointedly, ‘Violet understands.’

  ‘Yes, my grandmother’s very perceptive.’ Damon’s eyes narrowed. ‘But what, exactly, does she understand?’

  ‘She’s guessed about us. At least, she’s sussed out that we—that we’re still attracted. But she understands that it’s all too complicated, and that if we continue in each other’s company things will only become more complicated.’

  ‘I see. So does this mean I’ll be thoroughly grilled on the trip back?’

  ‘Only if Violet thinks you deserve to be grilled.’

  He looked as if he might comment on this, but Bella held up a hand. ‘There’s not much point talking about this, is there? We’ve made a decision, and we both know it’s right.’

  Then, before Damon could protest or she could weaken, she said, quickly, ‘I’m actually very tired, and I’m sure you must be too, Damon.’

  ‘Not particularly.’ But he rose and rolled up the paper and crumbs from his hamburger and tossed them into the waste bin.

  Standing in the middle of her room, empty handed, he said, ‘I can’t pretend I’m happy with the way things have worked out for us, but, God knows, I’ve caused you more than enough problems.’

  Grim-faced, he crossed to the door. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy your early night.’

  Bella heard a faint thread of anger in his voice. Or was that regret? Whatever—she had no choice but to ignore it. ‘Thanks,’ she said, with a tight, unhappy smile.

  ‘Good night, Bella.’

  ‘Good night.’

  She hated watching him leave, but she hated more that she couldn’t trust herself to carry on a conversation tonight without becoming a blubbering mess.

  The door closed quietly behind him, and she listened to his footsteps on the concrete path outside. She heard the key in his lock, heard the squeak of hinges as he opened his door, and then shut it again.

  Heard the silence.

  Oh, God.

  This was the end. Damon would always be the love of her life and she was letting him go. How could she bear it?

  Now she wanted to run after him, to knock and pound on his door, to beg him to come back, to stay with her for one last night.

  Suddenly, she was shameless in her wanting.

  Damon hurled the door key onto the small plastic table, a replica of the one in Bella’s room, and he glared as he watched it slide across the table’s surface and fall to the floor. The impulse to throw a few more things around the room was strong.

  He was so mad with himself. So tormented. A mess inside—as chaotic as a war-torn, Third World country.

  He wanted Bella.

  But what had he to offer her besides an on-again and off-again affair? She deserved someone steadfast and rock solid who would always be there for her.

  But whenever Damon imagined offering Bella his love—not physical love, but a heartfelt emotion that was true and deep and good—he was overcome by panicking powerlessness.

  What did he know of love?

  His father had always kept him at arm’s length, and any happy memories of his mother’s love always brought such a raft of sadness.

  There’d been Violet, of course …

  Violet’s unstinting love had been the constant in his life. His rock. In the bad old days in Willara, Violet had always been there for him, and no matter how strained things were at home she’d been ready with a gentle smile, an understanding heart and a truckload of patience.

  He’d never thought it strange that a teenage boy with a reputation for wildness should seek the company of his grandmother. Violet had never been a fussy, smothering grandmother. More often than not, he’d found her working in her beloved garden, and he would join her, helping to prune the heavier branches, or to dig out the tough weeds.

  Whatever had happened … she’d always been there, ready to listen.

  After he’d left Australia, Violet had never lost touch with him. Her letters and postcards had been his lifeline.

  He knew her heart had broken along with his on the day his mother left, just as he knew she understood why his mother had run away. But she’d left when he was ten and it had been eight long years before he’d worked up the courage to ask that all-important question.

  Just before he’d left Willara, he’d gone to her.

  ‘Do you know why she left me?’ ‘Who, darling?’ ‘My mother.’

  ‘Angela?’ Violet’s face had contorted. ‘Damon, you know there was an accident. She was killed.’

  ‘But she was leaving us.’

  ‘She was leaving your father.’

  That wasn’t what his dad had told him. Jack Cavello, in his grief and rage, had shouted that it was all Damon’s fault. His wickedness had driven his mother away.

  His grandmother, however, had grabbed his arm with a wrinkled hand. ‘Damon, Angela was planning to come back for you. She was going to fight to keep you. Surely you knew that?’

  ‘No.’ His mouth had pulled out of shape as he struggled not to cry. ‘Why have you never told me that?’

  ‘I thought you knew. You never asked.’

  ‘I was afraid to.’

  Hell.

  Damon came to an abrupt halt as he ran smack into the truth.

  Bella had hit the nail on the head when she’d asked about his mother on the night of the cyclone. While his conflict with his dad had been loud and blustering and obvious, his feelings for his mother had been buried, and, ultimately, much more painful.

  A cold chill drenched him to the bone as he saw himself as he really was. Forever on the run.

  Bella was mad with herself for sinking into a pit of desolation. She’d known all along that her journey with Damon wasn’t going to end with romance and happy ever after. Foolishly, she’d still managed to trick herself into hoping for the impossible.

  Now, she had no choice but to accept the blinding, obvious truth. She’d had nothing more than a brief, exciting fling with her high-school sweetheart and, like mature adults, she and Damon would now go their separate ways.

  She was free to get on with the rest of her life.

  With a sense of utter desolation, she went to the bathroom and washed her face, splashing cold water again and again until the red blotchiness caused by crying finally began to fade.

  She looked at her reflection. Her eyes were still a little pink and when she tried to smile she looked strained. But perhaps signs of strain were forgivable given everything that had happened to her since she hopped into Damon’s red sports car a week ago.

  It was hard to believe it had only been a week. There’d been so much intense one-on-one time with Damon, and she felt as if she’d lived a lifetime of joy and despair.

  And yet … just a mere seven days ago she and Kent had been in the midst of deciding to call their wedding off.

  Somewhat guiltily, Bella wondered how Kent was feeling now. She hoped he’d had a smoother week than she’d had.

  A week.

  Good grief. With a slam of shock, she remembered that this was Saturday. It should have been her wedding day. In fact—oh, my God—the ceremony would have been coming to a close right about now. If she and Kent hadn’t changed their plans, they would be married. They’d have been in the garden at Willara Downs, surrounded by their friends and family, about to walk down the aisle. Or rather, the garden path lined with the lovely battery-operate
d candles that Zoe had bought to add a romantic touch.

  They’d be husband and wife.

  From as far back as Bella could remember, Kent had been her neighbour and her closest friend, and now she was overcome by an urge to make contact with him. To make sure he was okay.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed her phone and dialled his number.

  It rang and rang until she got his voice mail asking her to leave a message.

  Bella wasn’t in the mood to leave a message. She wanted contact. But it was pretty obvious that Kent didn’t have his mobile with him, so she rang the Willara Downs number.

  It also rang out then went through to voice mail and, perhaps irrationally, Bella’s need to speak to Kent quadrupled. Where was he? Why wasn’t he available? Was he all right?

  She rang his parents.

  His mother, Stephanie, answered and of course she wanted to ask all sorts of questions about Bella’s trip north and about her grandfather and the cyclone. It was some time before Bella could say, ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with Kent.’

  ‘Oh,’ Stephanie responded warily. ‘Kent’s gone away for the weekend, Bella. Have you tried his mobile?’

  Bella told Stephanie that she had, but as Stephanie didn’t offer to tell her where Kent was she had no choice but to finish the call.

  She felt more isolated and in need of a chat than ever. She decided that if she couldn’t speak to Kent, she would try Zoe in Brisbane.

  Zoe’s response was another surprise.

  ‘Ooh, hello, Bella. How are you?’ Her friend’s voice sounded different—as if she was all bubbly and keyed up and trying hard to hold the lid on her excitement. ‘Did you want Kent for anything important?’

  ‘Not really. It’s just that the wedding was supposed to be happening right about now, and I guess I wanted to make sure he’s okay.’

  ‘Of course.’ Zoe made sympathetic noises, but then Bella heard her asking someone, in a stage whisper, to turn the sauce down on the stove.

  ‘Zoe, is someone with you?’