In the long silence, she drew in a deep breath and tried again. ‘Mike, we’re both adults, we’ve been around a few bends by now. I’m not the kiss and tell kind of gal.’ She tried to make light of it, desperate to try and restore what they’d had only minutes earlier.
His silence continued. She took a step back and snatched her hands out of his grip. It triggered something from him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, then looked across at her.
‘I don’t do casual. Sorry, Rach, no can do.’
She froze, her eyes never leaving his face. He moved away from the brick wall and pulled out his car keys. She stood in disbelief as he started to walk away. ‘Well, that’s not bloody good enough. Something happened here, between us, and you’ve stopped it and I want to know why.’
He stood in the rain and stopped mid-stride. ‘Don’t go there. It’s not worth it.’
She ran up and stood in front of him. ‘It’s not worth it? Or, I’m not worth it?’
He gave her a gentle smile, and for a moment she thought she’d dreamed the past few minutes. ‘Of course you’re worth it.’
His words resonated deep inside. He didn’t make sense. She didn’t understand why he was rejecting her.
‘Come on, Rach, it’s raining heavily now.’
She watched him walk down Stuart Street. Words caught at her throat. Tears threatened to spill. She didn’t care that it was raining heavily, that a few odd bods had heard them and had slunk off with a snigger, or that she was getting wet.
Her ingrained habit of standing meekly by and accepting rejection had to stop. She couldn’t take it anymore. No matter how many she received they reminded her of her childhood, of the unexplained rejections from some foster families. Somewhere the world was telling her she wasn’t worth it and she fought every day to prove otherwise. Where did it get her?
She ran a hand through her now almost sodden hair.
This rejection was different. It was personal. It was painful. It was from Mike, who she thought was different. Hell, he was different—that’s why she was willing to put it out on the line for him. What had he said earlier? Use your anger?
When they reached his car she went up to him. ‘What’s wrong with me, Mike?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing, it’s me.’
She tapped her foot on the ground. ‘I don’t think so. I’m attracted to you, you must know I am and somewhere, somehow—’ she gulped, ‘—I thought you were attracted to me. Where did I screw up?’
Mike glanced across at her, his face a picture of misery. ‘You didn’t. This has nothing to do with you.’
Her body shook. She didn’t care that he saw her disappointment and hurt. ‘Then why do I feel such a fool? I thought for one sweet moment we were in tune. What did I get wrong?’
He leaned against the car and folded his arms. ‘I made a personal promise never to do casual. I’ve outgrown it.’
She flinched. ‘Well, that’s not good enough. I’m not offering you marriage.’
Mike bowed his head and then slowly lifted his gaze.
‘You should. That’s all you should be offering, you’re too good for anything less.’
What? Had she misheard? He said it so quietly she almost missed it. ‘Well, I’m here now. I don’t understand. What’s wrong with us having a casual affair?’
Her eyes were glued to his, she wasn’t letting up. Her whole body quivered in anticipation of his answer. The silence was unbearable. She stepped closer. She had no intention of letting him off the hook.
His agonised expression tore at her insides. ‘The last time I did casual it produced a daughter.’
Her jaw dropped. Without another word he turned and opened the car door for her.
A daughter. The words echoed in her brain. She could barely believe it. ‘A daughter?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. Caitlyn.’
‘Well,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t see that one coming.’
So there was no other woman. It was worse—a daughter. She’d have preferred another woman. Her suspicions had been on the mark: there was something else under the surface, she just hadn’t figured on a daughter.
Mike grimaced.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I had no right to do that.’
She glared at him as she climbed into his car. Her hurt and disappointment knew no bounds. She wanted to lash out and hurt him, but she didn’t have the heart for it. She liked him. Shar was right, he was rare. He had decent, kind, thoughtful and sexy as hell down pat. That made him special.
He started the engine, and the warmth helped calm her frayed nerves.
She had to give up on anything sexual happening between them. Mike worked in the day and had his renovation work to complete at night; she had the bakery to deal with and her work in Sydney.
But she felt they could be good together—she would make it work—and they both needed each other, whether they were uncomfortable with that little fact or not. Yes, she could do this.
When she saw the ‘Welcome to Mindalby’ sign a strange thought struck her. She shook her head.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘God works in funny ways, doesn’t he?’
‘How so?’
‘Well, he gives you a daughter and I bet you don’t have a clue what to do with her. A son, yes, but not a daughter, am I right?’
He angled his head towards her and nodded.
In the close confines of the car she nearly lost her self-control. The temptation to stroke his face was too much. She looked away and kept in mind that for one beautiful moment they’d been into one another.
Why hadn’t she listened? He said earlier he was a man wanting more than a fling, and she hadn’t listened. All she could manage with her lifestyle was a fling. Was that pathetic? Yes, but when she had the bakery, Gordon, work and the possibility of the New York secondment breathing down her neck, what else could she do?
She wasn’t a teenager, neither of them were. Her future life did not feature Mindalby. Her whole life was dominated by rules. Well, if she wanted the big gig, it meant playing by the rules.
She had to get out of Mindalby as soon as possible.
Chapter 9
The incessant sound of dripping water woke her. She arched her back, her body stiff after a night spent in Nancy’s large comfy chair in the lounge room, and then pulled the blanket closer up to her neck and nestled her head into a cushion. The dripping continued. Agitated, her eyes flew open. The clock radio on the sideboard read four-thirty am.
Annoyed, she rolled out of the armchair and made her way outside, switching on the back light. Gin and Tonic, the family’s two golden retrievers, came rushing up to her. They almost knocked her over with their enthusiastic greeting. She patted both their heads, saying, ‘Not now, fellas.’
Her eyes swept over the backyard. It was flooded with water. Water pooled under the clothesline and had made a muddy path down to the chook pen and beyond.
‘Oh great,’ she muttered. She hitched up her jeans, ran down the stairs and switched off the garden hose. The seedlings Shar had planted the day earlier were floating amongst the dirt and stones.
She made her way further down the path, bent down and tossed onto the nearby garden bed the broken branches and stones that captured the water around the chook pen. On her way back she eyed the clothes on the line. They had been swinging there all week and she was tempted to leave them. Damn it. She stood in the cold mud and unpegged the semi-dried clothes.
The kitchen was a catastrophe with dirty crockery piled high in the sink, breadcrumbs on the bench and a mix of toys and school lunchboxes on the kitchen table.
‘Shar,’ she called out.
She didn’t care that it was almost five in the morning. She picked up the basket of dirty washing and backed into the laundry door to open it, but it was blocked by something. She dropped the basket in the hallway.
She picked up jars of honey and peanut butter that were lying opened on the kitchen table
and put them in the cupboard, then with a dampened cloth she wiped down the table and the kitchen bench.
The two dogs, now awake, followed her every step. She grinned at them as she cleaned out their food bowls and filled them with some fresh dog biscuits.
Satisfied she’d finished clearing the worst of the mess, she put on the kettle. While the kettle boiled she forced open the laundry door.
Damp towels had fallen from a basket blocking the door. The towels ready to be washed lay scattered on the floor, there was a basket of wet clothing ready to go on the line, the washing machine was full of washed clothes and the sink had a bucket of something soaking.
She took a deep breath as her blood pressure rose.
Slamming the door shut, she ran through the dining room and took the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs she spied Shar and Abi asleep in the first room. Bob was asleep in the room opposite. Frustrated she did an about turn and went downstairs.
Calm down.
Taking a few deep breaths she walked back into the kitchen. Her eyes gave a quick glance at the chair Nancy always sat in. She could almost hear Nancy telling her to calm down, that Bob and Shar were dealing with a massive change in their lives and were doing the best they could.
To hell with that.
She stalked over to the kitchen sink and began emptying it, thumping down each item on the bench.
‘What the hell is going on?’ asked Shar who stood against the doorframe yawning. Dressed in a pair of old track pants and an oversized jumper with bare feet, and her hair an unruly mess, her sister did not look as if she were about to head to the bakery.
Her blood pressure revved up another notch. She shook her head. ‘What does it look like?’
‘Rach, put them down. It can wait. It’s only crockery.’
Annoyed, she grabbed a hand towel and dried her hands. ‘That’s how you do it, isn’t it? You keep putting things off. You don’t face up to a damn thing. Well some things have to be faced.’
Her sister scratched her head. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Really?’
Rachael walked past her sister on her way to the cupboard by the fridge. ‘What’s up with Bob? He sleeps most days and doesn’t join us for anything. Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘Of course it does, but once the mill re-opens things will get back to normal.’
Rachael opened the cupboard searching in vain for two clean cups. ‘And if it doesn’t re-open, what then?’
Rachael pulled out two dirty cups from the dishwasher and glared at Shar. ‘These need cleaning. You’re so on top of things.’
Shar slumped into the nearest chair in the kitchen.
‘Rach, what’s got into you?’
In silence Rachael cleaned the cups and stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil. She swung around and glared at her sister.
‘Nothing. I’ve been thinking.’
‘Oh god, now what?’ muttered Shar.
Rachael closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It wasn’t fair to load Shar with more worries, but they were beyond that now, and she couldn’t hold back anymore.
‘Do you realise you’ve never had to work at anything in your life? Neither of you have.’
Shar’s eyes widened. ‘What? We work.’
Rachael shook her head.
‘Yes, you work, but it’s all been handed to you on a platter, everything. And it didn’t prepare you for anything either.’
‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’
She leaned against the kitchen bench and faced her sister.
‘Well, you didn’t have to search for a husband. Bob grew up next door. He already climbed the fence to play with you. He didn’t have to look far for a girlfriend, and it suited you. I’m not saying you don’t love the guy, or he you, but neither of you had to look far. The rest of us have endured a few broken hearts.’
Her sister climbed out of her chair and joined her at the sink. ‘What’s happened?’
Rachael ignored her.
‘Same with work. You never left the bakery and Bob followed his father into the mill—work solved. Bob loses his job when the mill closes and Nancy helps you out.’
‘What’s happened?’ Shar cut in, firmer.
‘Nothing. All I’m saying is that you’ve never had to fight for anything. It’s all come so easy.’
Shar’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you really saying, Rach? What’s your point?’
She let out a soft sigh. ‘You aren’t facing up to Bob.’
‘Bob?’
‘I don’t think he’s in a good place.’
Her sister pushed her aside and poured them each a cup of tea and handed her one. ‘Don’t you think I don’t already know that? I’ve heard about the free counselling. Leave it with me.’
Rachael sat at the kitchen table, took a sip of her tea and made a mental note to ask Mike if he knew of any mental health providers. ‘You’re going to have to work at this. There’s no quick fix.’
Her sister flashed her an angry look. ‘Oh, you’re all doom and gloom this morning.’
‘Rach’s got a point, love.’ Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.
They both swung around to see Bob standing in the doorway. His face was pale, and his eyes were bleak. He grimaced and slumped heavily into the nearest chair.
‘We have had it easy, love. I never thought of it like that before and right now, I don’t know what to do.’
Shar poured him a cup of tea. ‘Bob, once the mill re-opens things will be back to normal.’
Bob gave a sad smile. ‘I don’t think it will, love, and even if it does, I’m not keen on going back. I feel a little lost right now, and I’m not the only one. There are plenty of guys hanging around each night at the mill desperate for something to do.’
It was part pain and part envy that struck Rachael as her sister jumped up and slid her arms around her husband’s considerable girth, their closeness as strong as ever. ‘We’ll think of something,’ Shar reassured him.
Rach slammed down her cup, and ignored the slop that flew out. Both sets of eyes turned on her. It was time to be firm.
‘Thinking can go on forever without a result. We have to do something now.’
Bob gave her a shaky smile. ‘I forgot, Rach. How did Bourke go?’
She sat forward, pleased at last to get the discussion onto something more concrete.
‘Well, the Bourke bakers were telling me that there are some things they do not want to spend their time producing, so they are happy to on-sell any specialty cakes or slices we produce. In return I said we’d on-sell some of their specialty grain and sourdough breads.’
The room went silent.
Shar bit at her bottom lip. ‘Is that a good thing or not?’
Rach nodded. ‘It’s a start,’ she sighed, ‘a very small start.’
Bob grinned at her. It was the first positive reaction she’d seen from him about anything since she’d arrived in Mindalby.
‘That’s brilliant. It doubles our bread range. Oh, Rach, that’s great.’
Her eyes fixed on Bob. His use of ‘our’ was not lost on her. She would need Bob’s help in implementing some of the changes she planned. Shar was willing, but her time was split with caring for the children and work.
‘What do you plan for the bakery?’ he asked.
‘Well …’ They were good hearted people and happy to help out, but nothing had prepared them for the situation they were now in. She suspected neither of them really understood what was needed. She tossed that thought aside. With encouragement and know-how surely Bob could take over.
‘Today is Friday, and we did say today would be the last day of trading and we’d start gutting it tomorrow. You still okay with that?’
‘You really want to go ahead with this then?’ said Shar as she clapped her hand against her forehead.
She ignored her sister, and continued. ‘Brown’s have a secondhand oven, well a s
et of them, which they’ve offered to sell us. The one we have now is old, out of date and …’
Bob’s callused hand reached out and squeezed hers. ‘I hear you, Rach. We’ll start gutting it this afternoon, clear everything out, pack it in the garage and go from there. Eh?’
She leaned across the table and kissed his forehead. The relief trickling into her body was palpable. At least this way they were sharing responsibilities and she wanted Bob to feel free to discuss any ideas or proposals he had.
‘Thanks, Bob. I’ll work on a draft plan so you know exactly where I’m at.’
Her sister frowned. ‘Okay, okay. That’s all nice, but what about money?’
Rachael glanced at the kitchen clock; it was time to get moving.
‘I have a little stashed away. Anyway, I’ll show you the figures later.’ She stood up and nodded to them both. ‘I’ll go and do the first bake and see you in a couple of hours?’
Her sister’s eyes were travelling over her body, a worried expression on her face. ‘You wore those clothes yesterday. Did you sleep in Nancy’s chair last night?’
Annoyed, she stared her sister down. Shar knew exactly why she slept in that chair. It was her comfort chair and everybody in the family knew it. So what if she needed comfort last night? What part of that didn’t she understand?
She shrugged. ‘I did. I got in late and didn’t want to disturb anyone. Is that okay with you?’
Bob nodded, but Shar followed her out to the lounge room and went over to Nancy’s chair where she fluffed up the cushions Rach had used as pillows and folded the blanket she’d left on the floor.
‘Rach, hold up. What happened? Or, what didn’t happen between you and Mike?’
Rachael picked up her laptop and keys and checked the room before she walked out. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘Nothing?’ That simple word dripped with disbelief.
She sighed. Shar would find out anyway. ‘We kissed and that was that.’
The silent seconds that unfolded were heavy. Her sister folded her arms across her chest. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Images of the start of the most sensual kiss of Rachael’s life burst inside her brain. Her heart started to race and it took an enormous amount of effort to get her thoughts back on what she needed to do. It was time to go to the bakery.
A Reason To Stay Page 9