A Reason To Stay

by Linda Charles

  She smiled, and winked at a white-faced Shar. ‘Let’s do a little brainstorming.’

  A tired voice whispered, ‘Can I help?’

  Rach swung around, surprised Nancy was awake. She rushed to her side and leaned over the older woman, her heart pounding hard in her chest.

  ‘It’s alright, Nancy, you go to sleep. We’ll sort this.’

  The older woman shook her head. ‘Not without me, you won’t. Where are my glasses?’

  Shar noisily rummaged around Nancy’s bedside table. ‘Got them, right here,’ announced Shar, looking relieved.

  Nancy fumbled to put on her glasses as Shar fluffed up her pillows.

  Rach marvelled at the older woman’s steely courage.

  Her thoughts tracked back to a time when it had been the norm in her life to throw a tantrum at anything, the more outrageous the better. At fourteen she’d lost count of the families and the suburbs she’d survived. At fourteen she was an old hand at getting what she wanted, playing the system and moving on. At fourteen she met Nancy Henderson.

  Once settled, Nancy took Rachael’s hand and held it close to her heart. Rach perched herself on the edge of the bed and stared at the older woman, the mainstay of her teenage years.

  Nancy squeezed her hand; her eyes were bright and brimming with love as she held her gaze. ‘Oh pet,’ the older woman murmured. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  Unspoken words clogged at Rachael’s throat and she couldn’t speak. It hurt that she couldn’t speak; her world, her work life, was filled with words, and now when they mattered the most they deserted her.

  She swallowed hard as the familiar feelings of self-consciousness and inadequacy consumed her once more.

  Nancy reached across and grabbed Shar’s hand too, then gazed from one to the other. How could Rachael ever repay the woman who hadn’t rejected her? A woman who’d willingly given so much more than she’d ever received?

  Chapter 5

  ‘It’s another Sunday evening folks and don’t they roll around? We’re here to play all your old-time favourite love songs. For any of you still on your lonesome tonight, keep the requests rolling in.’

  Mike leapt over two small mounds of soil and switched off the tiny radio perched on his back verandah. He did not need reminding about his loveless life. And he wasn’t in the mood to go down memory lane and wonder what if.

  He stretched his body, stiff after an afternoon spent bending and lifting. The broken bricks he’d used as pavers worked well. The old goat-track between his back steps and the clothesline was no more.

  He kicked off his mud-caked workboots as Molly, his two-year-old border collie, squeezed between his legs and made a run for the back door, eager to go inside.

  He gave one final look at his handiwork before he went inside. The plans he had for the garden were extensive and he itched to do more. His renovator’s delight was proving expensive in both time and money.

  With a hot coffee in hand, he slid into his oversized chair at his desk. Molly followed him and settled at his feet. He ruffled her head.

  ‘Hey there, Moll, let’s see what our favourite girl has to say.’

  He hovered his mouse arrow over the Skype icon as he counted down till seven pm. On the hour he clicked the icon. At each ring his heart beat a little faster. The sound bounced from wall to wall, loud and strong, in the large cavernous room. Each ring played on his worst fear that his thirteen-year-old daughter had no interest in leaving Ireland and moving to Australia. Eventually, it rang out.

  He waited five minutes and tried again. As the final ring rang out he took a sip of his coffee and rubbed at the back of his neck. It wasn’t the first time Caitlyn had missed his calls, even ignored his messages.

  Ignored him.

  He hung his head, as disappointment swirled about him. So much for trying to get a ritual going when she couldn’t even take his call at the same time each week. How hard was that?

  He finished his coffee and dialled again. He bit into his bottom lip as Caitlyn came up on his screen. She smiled and gave him a little wave. He swallowed hard with relief.

  ‘Hi there, Mike.’ Her soft voice penetrated his cold house but her words jarred him.

  When will she call me ‘Dad’?

  His eyes drank her in. He couldn’t wait to see her, to hold her, to get to know her.

  ‘Hiya, princess. Good week?’

  She nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Her dark straight hair fell across her eyes, covering half her face. She tossed her head, flicking away her hair with long fake black nails. Black nails? His eyes zeroed in on her fake eyelashes and there was more than a hint of makeup. He could only do so much half a world away.

  ‘How’s the house coming?’ she asked.

  He sat back and fought hard not to mention the eyelashes. Instead he gave her his cheekiest grin, glad she’d at long last acknowledged the house.

  ‘Finished the paving today and Molly and I spent the morning putting in the chicken pen. All it needs now are some inmates.’

  Caitlyn giggled. At last, a sign of the girl he wanted to see.

  ‘Sounds good. Sorry, Mike, but I have to cut it short today; we’re going shopping in a minute.’

  Shopping? The word blasted in his head.

  He played with the handle of his mug. He didn’t like the sound of that; he wanted her playing sport—a team sport, learning to mix with people, to be social. There were plenty of years ahead to shop.

  ‘Sure, I understand.’ He choked out the words. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘They’ve opened a new farmers’ market down the road. It should be good.’

  He nodded, struggling to hide his disappointment. ‘I’m sure it is, princess, but how’s school going?’

  She gave him a short quick wave. ‘All good. See you next week.’

  He opened his mouth to answer when she cut off.

  Dismissed, she’s dismissing me.

  He could barely believe it. Stung, he sat back and stared at the empty screen. Their calls were getting shorter. Since he’d purchased his home he’d hoped and prayed for some interest, especially given she’d be joining him in a couple of months.

  Molly’s warm and sticky tongue, licking his fingers, stirred him into action. He ruffled her head.

  ‘You understand, don’t you, girl? At least we’re on the same page.’

  The urge to call his sister, Maureen, and ask her what the hell was going on was eating at him. That call was long overdue and he kept putting it off. Trouble was he couldn’t stomach another fight with his sister or Caitlyn’s grandparents. Since Caitlyn’s mother’s death, Maureen and Caitlyn’s grandparents had banded together as a team to look after Caitlyn. Their so-called care was proving impenetrable. Living so far away it was too easy for all of them to simply cut him off.

  He jumped up, almost knocking over his empty cup, and went into his bedroom. In a few minutes he was dressed and ready for a run. It would be a long run tonight.

  ***

  Rachael paced the floor of the Henderson lounge room. There was much to think about. Shar’s suggestion of a family business meeting had resulted in a long and difficult day. The get-together had resulted in a lot of small suggestions. All had merit in the short term, but none were strong enough to sustain a business over the long term.

  Her body ached right through to her bones. A long hot shower had not eased the pain in her limbs. She knew it was tension, but she couldn’t recall a time when it was so bad.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ shouted Shar.

  Rachael let out a groan; it was too early for dinner and she was soon realising that when there were children in a home, their timetable reigned supreme.

  ‘Rach, did you hear me? Jake, stop mucking about and go and see if Auntie Rach wants dinner.’

  ‘I heard,’ Rach muttered to herself as she made her way to the kitchen.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ she asked from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Scrambled eggs on toast.�
� Shar grinned at her. ‘It’s a Sunday night and I want a night off.’

  Rachael nodded as she took in the scene and wondered where best to sit; all the seats looked sticky, damp or full of crumbs. She stepped over a few toys on her way to the fridge and fiddled with the radio to get the needle to sit square on the station dial.

  Shar bustled past her to fill the kettle up at the sink.

  ‘Help yourself to whatever. You’ll find clean crockery in the dishwasher and, if you can, find a space at the table. Jake, if you and Matty have finished make some room for Auntie Rach. Matty go upstairs and see what your father’s up to.’

  Rachael was torn between tidying up, washing up or making a cup of tea.

  Bob’s heavy footsteps thundered from above. It made a nice change to hear movement in a house, to have others close by. She did a double take when she spied a line of their underwear drying in the laundry.

  Through the kitchen window a figure in black caught her eye. She shifted closer to the sink for a better view. Mike was jogging up the side street. He still had a way to go before he’d jog past. From where she stood she could see the outline of his chest; low-lying bushes were hiding the rest of his body. He was gaining ground.

  Shar was wiping Abi’s sticky hands with a damp cloth while Abi sang something indecipherable at an eye-wateringly high pitch.

  Rachael gave Shar a quick grin. ‘I’m just going out for a bit.’

  ‘You’re what?’ asked Shar.

  She skirted her way around the crowded kitchen table and opened the back door. A rush of cold air hit her and she shivered. The warm glow after her hot shower vanished in a second. Dressed in only her underwear and a dressing gown she looked ready for an early evening—too ready. What did it matter?

  As he drew closer she put her hands to her lips and called out, ‘Mike.’

  Like an inquisitive cuddly pup he stopped mid-stride, looking up and down the street and at nearby properties.

  She waved. ‘Mike, wait up.’

  And then he was just looking at her, his smile open and welcoming. She ran barefoot down the back steps and manoeuvred her way around a myriad of puddles, shrubs, wet grass and chickens down the long narrow backyard.

  En route she quickly fluffed up her hair, in an effort to look semi-decent.

  By the time she’d reached him, Mike was leaning against the short wooden fence. She sat alongside him, and her eyes were drawn to his forearms, to the small ball-bearing like muscles that rolled up and down on each movement.

  His eyes, so bold and brazen, raked over her body. There was no mistaking their meaning. It was like he’d tossed a match into a fire as heat, hot and biting, singed her nerve endings throughout her body.

  The guys she worked with were physical. They were gym junkies who were into weights, running and swimming, and at night the office smelled of chlorine from their towels after an evening session.

  Mike’s physicality was raw and out there, on display and very confronting. It wasn’t hidden behind a three-piece suit.

  It struck her how easily it would be for work to slip off her radar. Usually her Sunday evenings were spent preparing for the week ahead, shooting off emails to her team and working on presentations. Instead, she would tackle all of that tomorrow.

  ‘No run today?’ he asked.

  She shook her head and laughed. ‘That was it. Didn’t you see it?’

  He snapped his fingers.

  ‘Damn, I blinked and missed it. So, what’s happening?’

  His gaze settled on her and his eyes shone with unashamed interest. She swallowed hard. Control was her middle name, but she couldn’t ignore her body’s response to his casual sexiness.

  She said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Well, for a start it’s a shambles in there. Feed time.’

  He waved her over and her gaze flew to his shifting ball-bearings. ‘Come here. You’ve got web in your hair.’

  She frowned, running a hand through her hair. Her fingers were immediately caught in the soft sticky strands on the top of her head.

  ‘Come here,’ he commanded.

  His voice had a warm gruff edge to it. She didn’t hesitate and bowed her head.

  The soft flutter of his hands as he pulled away remnants of the spider’s web caused a sudden rush of heat throughout her body. Lust rippled through her body. Instinctively, she moved closer.

  ‘There you go, all gone.’

  Her eyes widened when she looked up. Mike’s sculpted backside was facing her as he bent down to wipe his hands against the wet grass. She hadn’t been expecting that and clapped her hands.

  ‘Now that’s a sight I don’t see very often.’

  Mike twerked. ‘I bet that’s something else you don’t see very often either.’

  She let out a loud laugh. She couldn’t stop. The harder she laughed the more he twerked.

  What is getting into me?

  She held up her hands. ‘Stop it, stop it. You’ll have all the neighbours coming out wondering what that strange sound is.’

  He stood before her with a mischievous boyish grin that lit up his face.

  ‘Well, woman, you called me over. Tell me, what’s going on?’

  She sat up straight and struggled to keep her expression serious.

  ‘I need your help.’ It wasn’t often she asked for any help.

  His smile deepened as he joined her on the fence. ‘I’m intrigued. You need my help?’

  ‘It’s the bakery. It’s out of touch, out of date and out of …’ She hesitated.

  It was one thing to ask Mike about paint colour, but how much could she reveal about the bakery’s dire situation? Did it matter? She’d need all the help available to turn the fortunes of the bakery around.

  His eyes twinkled. ‘I know your type. You want to pick my brains.’

  For starters.

  Her face burned at the thought. Where did that come from? Her sense of fun had gone by the time she’d finished uni and as for her sense of humour, well, that was a constant work in progress.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I need your professional opinion.’

  He turned his steady gaze on her face and in that moment a flash of clarity hit her. Mike was perfect.

  He wasn’t family, and without emotion there would be none of that uncontrollable anxious spiral spin she went into following a rejection. His rejection of any of her ideas wouldn’t devastate her.

  ‘We want to upgrade the bakery and I mean more than a paint job. I want to look at re-designing the place, perhaps a new fit-out?’ She paused. ‘I know it’s early days, but I want to get started with something before I leave.’

  Mike nodded. ‘How much in mind?’ His boyish expression was replaced with a serious thoughtful look.

  She mulled over his question. It was like putting her hand in a bucket of ice cubes and asking how many. She had no idea.

  ‘Oh, I thought five grand, will that go far?’

  Mike chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. ‘It does in Mindalby.’ He stepped closer, blocking her view of anything else. ‘What exactly do you want to do?’

  For some reason she wanted to tell him, to let go of an idea that had been rattling around in her head for years. Mike was neutral; he didn’t have any form of investment in either her or the bakery.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’d love to gut the place and turn it into something a little more commercial. We’d work with the other bakeries in the satellite townships and each bakery would specialise in something and sell that to the other bakeries. That way, we’d each broaden our stock and customer base. What do you think?’

  Her words hung between them.

  Mike raised his eyebrows and she watched him with the same intensity as a cat ready to pounce. It was her precious idea, her baby born out of love after overhearing Nancy and Bert discuss a particularly bad year.

  ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’

  She shook her head. Who would listen to a teenager? Especially an out
sider.

  Mike paced the length of the fence line. At each turn her anxiety rose. At each return her hope faded.

  The urge to toss question after question at him ate at her, but she hung back. This was too important to sully with mad, over-the-top questions that didn’t get to the heart of it. She stood by in silence, and waited.

  He walked towards her.

  She searched his face for signs of rejection, her deepest fear. That he would think her idea rubbish given the size of Mindalby, given she worked in Sydney, given she had to leave it in the hands of Shar, and possibly Bob, to manage.

  He gave her a quick glance, his dark eyes gleaming. ‘We have to get the map out and ...’

  She cut him short. ‘We?’

  Her sharp tone was one she used often on her team. That tone worked miracles, getting results every time.

  Mike seemed unperturbed. ‘You can’t do this alone.’

  He stepped closer, stepping into her personal space. Somehow she didn’t mind. At least he hadn’t rejected her idea.

  ‘Rachael, you’re kidding yourself if you think you can do this alone. This is not a whim that can be done and dusted in an afternoon.’

  She realised he was right. Redeveloping the bakery would have to fit in between her work for Gordon and checking in on Nancy. There’d be new products to launch, convincing the family, sourcing new markets and navigating her way around freight costs of getting her goods to market.

  She rubbed at her head, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in her workload.

  ‘What do you propose then?’ she asked.

  ‘We have to see if it’s viable. You’ll need to talk to people, ask the right questions.’ He let out a gentle laugh. ‘This is your bag; you should be able to do this with your eyes closed. You know the drill.’

  He was right. Problem was she did it for other people. This would be different; she carried the hope of her family around with her.

  He bent down, all six foot two of him. His face was inches from hers. His scent, a mix of soap and earth, flooded her with lovely thoughts long forgotten. The surprise link reminding her of the Henderson boys after a day spent working in the yard and cleaning up for dinner.