by Nicola Marsh
‘Having fun?’
She’d crept up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his back as his mind instantly blanked and his heart beat like a drum.
‘I am now.’
He turned around, regretting his action when she dropped her arms and waved at an exec strutting out the door with a blonde on each arm.
‘Sorry, it’s been a bit frantic tonight. Great party, huh?’
He’d never seen her so animated: her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth in a perpetual dazzling smile. She thrived on this scene; that much was obvious.
Leaning down, he slid an arm around her waist and murmured in her ear, ‘Actually, it’s a bit crowded for my taste. You know, I’d prefer a private party for two.’
She laughed, a fake, brittle tinkle that sent an arrow of foreboding through him.
‘I like crowds. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Melbourne in the first place.’
Doing a little spin on her stilettos, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and held her arms out wide. ‘Guess you can’t keep a good city girl down, huh?’
‘I guess not.’
What had got into her? She was behaving as if she’d been serving alcohol rather than speciality coffees all night.
‘So, you want to party on after this? Some of the guys mentioned hitting a club or two. I love dancing.’
She gave another bizarre twirl, though thankfully his ringing mobile saved him from answering.
Camryn watched Blane’s face blanch as he clutched his mobile to his ear, a finger pressed in the other so he could hear above the din.
She didn’t blame him. The noise levels in here were giving her a headache, too. She’d had some stupid, half-baked plan to show him her party side tonight, exaggerate it just a tad, accentuate their differences, maybe annoy him in the process so when she told him the truth later, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to accept they weren’t so well suited after all.
Sounded simple enough, but it was just plain dumb. She didn’t want Blane to hate her, and she sure didn’t want to lie to him. She owed him the truth. Hopefully it would set him free.
‘Stay calm. I’ll be right there.’ He snapped the phone shut and thrust it into his pocket, slamming his glass onto the bar before turning to her with wide eyes.
Their bleak expression shocked her. She’d never seen him anything other than upbeat, relaxed or passionate.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Jemma’s in the hospital. The entire family’s there. I have to go.’
She knew what was coming next even before he opened his mouth. Not that he had to ask. Her first instinct was to drop everything and go with him to see if the darling little girl who’d captured a small piece of her child-immune heart was okay.
‘Come with me.’ He grabbed her hand, his eyes beseeching, his tone desperate.
‘You don’t have to ask.’ She stood on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his lips. ‘Let’s go.’
‘What about all this?’
Touched by his concern for her when she knew how frantic he must be, she laid a silencing finger against his lips. ‘It’s not important. I’ll have a quick word with Anna and meet you at the car, okay?’
‘You’re incredible.’ He cupped her cheek for a moment, his love for her enveloping her in a warm, welcome shroud she hated to shrug off. ‘Thank you.’
‘Go.’ With a gentle shove, she pushed him away, waiting till he headed for the door before letting her face crumple.
She had to find Anna, get her to wrap things up here so she could be there for Blane. He needed her. With what she’d had planned for later, it would be for the last time.
Blane swiped a hand across his eyes, but nothing could banish the gritty dryness from lack of sleep.
Not that he was the only one. Glancing around the hospital waiting room, he saw every member of his family in various sleepless poses: his folks sitting upright and rigid in the horrible orange plastic chairs, gripping each other’s hands, Sandy and Monica with their heads resting on the wall at their backs, and Jodi, her forearms resting on her belly, her hands clenched.
The girls’ spouses were at home looking after the kids, and he suddenly wished he could be there, away from the harsh sterility of this place with its pungent antiseptic odours, its bustling medical personnel, and the glare of fluorescent lighting on the exhausted and worried expressions etched across the faces of his family.
He hated seeing them like this, hated the thought of his precious little niece under the knife of some surgeon they’d never heard of. There’d been no choice: remove her appendix before it ruptured and possibly killed her, and, while it was a simple enough operation, he couldn’t imagine a two-year-old having to go through it.
Sliding across an empty chair, he reached out and draped a comforting arm across Jodi’s shoulders.
‘She’s going to be fine, Sis.’
Jodi lifted her head, raising red-rimmed eyes to meet his.
‘Is she?’ she whispered, her hands shaking so hard she had to clasp them together and rest them on her belly.
‘Of course she is. Now, you need to look after this little one and let the docs do their job and look after Jem.’
He briefly laid a hand on her bulging belly, silently praying he was right. Contemplating any outcome other than a positive one was inconceivable, and, while his gut churned with worry, he could only imagine what Jodi must be going through right now.
‘I just feel so helpless,’ Jodi said, resting her head against his shoulder, and he cuddled her close, wondering if wanting this parent gig so desperately was a wise choice after all.
‘Mrs. Lee?’
Jodi sat bolt upright as a youngish doctor in scrubs appeared before them.
‘How’s Jemma? Is she all right?’ she blurted, clutching his hand in a bone-cracking grip.
Blane held his breath, his gaze fixed on the doctor’s mouth, willing him to speak, willing him to deliver the good news his family so desperately needed to hear.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor’s face creased into a smile. ‘Jemma’s going to be fine. The surgery went well. She’s in recovery now but should be out shortly, and then you can see her.’
‘Thank God.’
Jodi sank against him like a lifeless doll—a heavily pregnant doll—as he sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.
The doctor’s weary smile said he’d been through this scenario a hundred times before, and he sent them a polite nod before hurrying away as his pager beeped.
The family crowded around Jodi, and he backed off, giving them space, just as Cam appeared around the corner, tottering on high heels and trying to balance a cardboard tray bearing enough coffees to keep the entire Andrews clan up all night.
Her worried gaze noted the doctor’s retreating back, skimmed over his family gathered around Jodi, before slamming into his, and what he glimpsed there took his breath away. She cared, not just the obligation type of caring for people she had just met, she really, truly cared about Jemma and for what they were all going through.
Sending her a reassuring smile, he met her halfway across the waiting room, taking the tray out of her hands, sliding it onto a nearby table and enveloping her in his arms.
‘Is there news?’
‘She’s going to be okay,’ he murmured, stroking her hair, loving how her body fit against his as if they’d been made for each other.
Which they had. He’d known it from the first moment they’d met, and how close they’d grown lately merely reinforced what he’d always known.
‘Thank God.’
She sagged with relief, her hand insinuating its way between their bodies to surreptitiously swipe at her eyes.
‘Hey, the worst part’s over,’ he said, pulling back slightly to run a thumb across her cheek, catching a lone tear as it trickled down.
‘I know.’
Though from the scared gleam in her eyes, he knew she di
dn’t believe him. Either that or something else had put that anxious look in her eyes, and he had no idea what.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here. You must be exhausted.’
She didn’t protest, and as he slung an arm around her shoulders and headed for his family to say goodbye, he couldn’t help but ponder what was going through his wife’s head.
CHAPTER TEN
CAMRYN picked up the phone for the fifth time that morning before slamming the handset back in its receiver.
She had to call Blane. She’d prevaricated long enough, and last night’s drama in the ER with Jemma only served to strengthen her resolve.
He loved his niece, desperately, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, and if he had that much love to give a niece, imagine how great he’d be as a father.
Setting him free was the right thing to do. Her head knew it, her heart would never catch up.
She hadn’t slept a wink in the wee small hours when she’d made it back here for her first night in her brand-spanking-new apartment, hadn’t been able to force a morsel of food past her lips this morning, and could barely drag her feet around the place to do a much-needed clean.
She’d never felt so drained, so lifeless, and every one of her bones ached as if she had some terrible flu.
She was sick all right: heartsick over losing the love of her life all over again.
While her heart ached and her soul emptied of joy, she picked up the phone and dialled his number, sinking into her favourite zebra-print leather chair and curling her legs up under her.
‘Hello?’
He answered on the fourth ring, and her belly somersaulted at the familiar rich timbre of his voice.
‘Blane, it’s me. How’s Jemma?’
‘She’s fine. Jodi just called, said she’ll make a full recovery.’
‘That’s great,’ she breathed, surprised at the depth of her relief. The little girl had wound her way into her affection, but she hadn’t realised just how deeply. ‘Jodi must be relieved.’
‘We all are. How are you doing? You looked pretty exhausted by the time I dropped you off.’
‘I am.’
She didn’t elaborate, all too aware what she had to say had to be done in person, and hoping he’d go for her plan. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking and was wondering if you’d like to take a trip with me to Rainbow Creek.’
‘Sure. When?’
He didn’t miss a beat, even though he had to be more than a little surprised.
‘How about this weekend? I’m tied up here every night till then.’
‘Sounds great.’
He paused, as if searching for the right words, and she knew what was coming next before he spoke. ‘Are you planning on seeing your parents?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Among other things, namely taking him back to the place it all began for them, hoping he’d understand when she told him why she had to let him go.
‘I’m so proud of you.’
He wouldn’t be, not when she revealed her real motivation for heading back.
‘Thanks. Look, I’ve got an incoming call on my mobile from a supplier, and it’s important. I have to go.’
Clutching the phone, she willed him to say something else, anything else, for the simple pleasure of hearing his voice, for there wouldn’t be many more times she would.
‘No worries. I’ll chat to you later.’
‘Bye.’
She ended the call before she blurted the truth or changed her mind, staring at the phone, the dial tone humming its lifeless tune.
Flinging it onto the side table next to her, she hugged her knees tightly to her chest and rested her chin on them in the vain attempt to squeeze some of the pain out of her.
It didn’t work, and, staring around the new open-plan room—her renovations completed on time thanks to Blane—with its sleek modern glass tables, funky zebra-print suite and slashes of bright-coloured artwork, she wondered if she’d ever be able to get past this.
This was the life she’d chosen: this ultra-modern apartment in the heart of the city, just across from a hip, trendy café she owned, with the freedom to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.
She was living the dream.
But she’d give it all away in a heartbeat if she could have kids with Blane.
Deep, painful sobs bubbled up from within, and as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickled down her cheeks, and she let them fall, the first time she’d cried so hard in years.
She’d been a city girl for so long now—fiercely independent, headstrong, and able to handle anything with a flick of her designer handbag and a sidestep in sky-high stilettos. She’d been that self-sufficient city girl for six years, so why the horrible, helpless feeling she couldn’t get past this? Or the insane instinct to run home into her mother’s comforting arms?
She had to get through this. She had to let him go to follow his dream just as he’d done for her all those years ago. She had to strengthen her resolve, get over this vulnerability, get away from reminders of him around every corner, get away from everything for a while…
Her eyes snapped open, and she dashed a hand across her cheeks. That was it. The answer to her problems. But before she could escape, she needed to take a trip of another sort.
A trip back in time.
Ochre-coloured dust rose in a billowing plume as Blane’s ute pulled away, leaving Camryn no option but to sling her bag over her shoulder and head for the coffee house. She hadn’t told her folks she was coming home, had counted on the element of surprise to get them past the awful awkwardness of a reunion.
Six years. She hadn’t spoken to them or set foot in Rainbow Creek in six long years, and, trudging up the main street, she saw that nothing had changed.
One general store, one country pub, a grocer and a tiny church, with Ma and Pa’s Coffee House tacked on the end.
Inwardly cringing at the name as she always did, she forced her feet to move down the deserted street. She’d deliberately chosen this time to arrive, knowing the town virtually shut down after dark on a Sunday, effectively shielding her from prying eyes and wagging tongues. If she were lucky, she could say what she had to say, confront her demons, and be back in Blane’s arms at the motel in under an hour.
He’d understood her need to do this on her own. No surprise considering he seemed to understand everything about her. Until she took him down to the river tomorrow and told him why she was really here; she had a feeling he wouldn’t understand that at all.
As she neared the end of the street and caught her first glimpse of the tiny red brick cottage at the rear of the coffee house, a powerful wave of nostalgia crashed over her, almost knocking her off her feet.
A lamp glowed from behind closed floral curtains in the front room, and she’d bet it was the same awful elephant lamp her mum had picked up for a song at a car boot sale all those years ago. Smoke billowed from the crooked chimney, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly aware of the colder, crisper country air and her totally unsuitable chiffon top, the height of fashion in Melbourne, the height of stupidity here.
A shadow passed across the lit window, and she gasped, the enormity of what she was about to do hitting home. The prodigal daughter returns…but would she be welcome? Would she learn the truth behind her parents’ selfish actions?
Taking a deep breath, she ploughed forward, long, strong strides which ate up the distance between her and the cottage. She’d had the courage to leave this house, this town, in the first place, had opened her own café in a city filled with high-quality competition, had thrived on every challenge thrown her way. Surely she could do this?
Knocking a tad loudly at the front door, she waited, clutching her bag tightly, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation and all it would entail: the recriminations, the accusations, the judgements.
However, as the door creaked open, and she looked into her mother’s open-mouthed, astonished face, all she could think about was breach
ing the short distance between them and flinging herself into her mum’s arms.
‘Cammie!’
She didn’t have to make a move as her mum catapulted her short, rotund body across the threshold and flung her arms around her in a vice-like hug, crushing the air out of her, bringing tears to her eyes with the joy in her greeting.
‘Hi, Mum. Long time no see, huh?’
Blinking back tears, she waited till her mum released her, preparing for the censure which would surely follow a purely instinctive greeting.
However, as she scanned her mum’s lined face, the faded blue eyes, the quivering mouth, all she saw was undisguised happiness, and her heart turned over with regret.
Regret for leaving this reunion so long, regret for being so stubborn, but, most of all, regret for the years they’d lost.
‘Come in, love. Your dad’s out, but he’ll be back soon. The kettle’s on.’
And just like that she stepped back in time, taking the first tentative step to mend a fence she’d thought irrevocably broken.
As she followed her mum through the narrow hallway, she inhaled deeply, the familiar aroma of baked golden syrup and rolled oats from her mum’s signature Anzac biscuits filling the air, enveloping her in its warmth, assaulting her senses with vivid memories of juggling a hot biscuit from hand to hand before cramming the delicious crunchy goodness into her young mouth.
Her throat clogged at the memory, and she swiped a hand over her eyes, only to be confronted with more memories as she dropped her hand and her misty gaze alighted on the old corkboard next to the fridge, bearing old Christmas cards she’d made at primary school, her first finger-painting, her old high-school year photos.
‘Nothing’s changed,’ she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the dresser covered in imitation Wedgewood plates, the windows draped in faded gingham, the ancient Aga stove and the worn wooden table with its four spindly-legged chairs.
‘Not much does around here.’
Her mum bustled about the kitchen as she always did, though rather than plonking her favourite chipped enamel teapot on the table, she carefully placed her good china one down, the teapot she’d only ever used for ‘fancy’ guests.