Elsa's Stand

by Cathryn Hein

  Maggie regarded her with awe. ‘He must think the world of you.’

  ‘If that’s the case, why hasn’t he returned any of my calls?’ Elsa continued to eye the opal with deepening distress. ‘I think I know what this is now.’

  How could Jack do this? What they’d shared was special. He’d loved her. She’d felt it in the tender way he held her, in the way his pale eyes soaked her in, with wonder and hunger and hope. In the way he said her name, like the very sound of it was precious.

  He’d called her his little lioness and she’d roared for him. And he planned to dismiss her with … money?

  Elsa covered her mouth to halt a threatening sob.

  ‘No,’ said Maggie. ‘Don’t you dare think that.’

  ‘What else could it be?’

  ‘What are you two on about?’ asked Iz.

  ‘Elsa thinks it’s compensation.’

  Iz’s eyes widened. ‘You think he’s buying you off? Why would he do that?’

  ‘Maybe to stop Elsa from going to the press like that other skank,’ suggested Serenity.

  Maggie skewered her with a look. ‘You really are a barrel of human love.’

  Serenity shot her the finger.

  ‘He knows I’d never do that,’ said Elsa. ‘Anyway, if that was my game, wouldn’t I have been like Merisa and done it while the story was still hot and I could have sold it for more? It’s old news now. Worthless. Fraser wasn’t even involved.’

  ‘Then it’s what we originally thought,’ said Maggie. ‘It’s to show he loves you.’

  ‘No,’ said Elsa, scooping the opal up and dropping it into the padded bag, her tone hardening with her heart. ‘If he really loved me, he’d be here, telling me in person.’

  *

  Wednesday dawned crisp and sunny, neither of which Elsa felt. She wanted to blame the discomfort of sleeping with Jack’s opal under her pillow, but it was her conscience that had woken her multiple times over the last two nights.

  She stood opposite Angus’s office and looked once again at the padded bag. The decision to return the opal seemed so easy after she’d settled on it last night, when the hurt and outrage that had manifested itself with the girls on Monday had finally set to granite in her heart. It was the appropriate act. Elsa would not be bought, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be dismissed with a token, like some mistress Jack had tired of.

  Except what if Maggie was right and the opal really was a gift? That Jack had seen it and thought of her, and sent it in the post as a token of love. Something to remind her of him and what they’d shared while he worked his way home.

  Perhaps Angus would know the answer, but the thought of asking him something so personal shot her with heat. How embarrassing to have to ask his solicitor what Jack’s feelings were. Elsa was—had been—Jack’s lover. She ought to know.

  If only she did.

  Elsa tilted the bag and caught the opal in her palm for one last look. She rubbed her thumb over its surface. Even unpolished it was a miracle of nature.

  A ten-thousand-dollar miracle.

  Did Jack realise? Did he care?

  She thought of Strathroy. Even in the current climate the property had to be worth a few million at least, and Kate was rumoured to have been worth a small fortune. Elsa had suspected from the beginning that Jack had done okay from opal mining. Perhaps more than okay.

  Maybe a ten-thousand-dollar opal meant nothing to him.

  Elsa glanced up the street to the clock outside the post office. She had to get back. It was pension day and her ladies would soon be arriving for their shampoos, sets and gossip, and while Serenity didn’t mind holding the fort, she had a business of her own to run.

  A few minutes and Elsa could be in and out. She might even have an answer.

  The question was: did she truly want one?

  With a sigh, Elsa slid the opal into the bag. One more minute, one more hour, one more day. Whatever the answer to Jack’s mystery, it could wait. Her business, meanwhile, could not.

  Mrs. Fairclough was already waiting when she pushed back through the door. She greeted Elsa with her usual cheer and quick hug.

  ‘Heard from that man of yours yet?’ she asked.

  Elsa shook her head. She didn’t like fibbing to Mrs. Fairclough, who was a sweetie, but talking about Jack hurt. She slid the bag into the till under the cash tray and closed the drawer, locking it out of sight.

  ‘Never you worry, love. He’ll be back.’

  As nine-thirty clicked around, more ladies turned up. Mrs. McKinnon arrived with a plate of homemade lamingtons. She patted Elsa’s hand and gave a conspiratorial wink. ‘I thought today we should be naughty.’

  Their good humour and kindness bucked Elsa up. On the day he’d left, Jack had claimed Wirralong wouldn’t want him back, but it would. Not the Mrs. Brierlys or Als, but these people. This Wirralong—the Wirralong she knew and adored—was generous, inclusive and heartwarming. Her ladies weren’t perfect by any means—God knows they could gossip—but they weren’t mean. They were the kind of people who pitched in when help was needed, regardless of who it was. Country people who’d experienced enough of life to know fate could be as nasty and as unfair to them as the next person.

  An hour or so later, Elsa was in the back room preparing morning tea, humming to the old music mix she had playing over the speakers, when the chatter that had been bubbling away in the salon suddenly ceased. The last time that had happened, there’d been a minor bingle in the main street, followed by a shouting match. She cocked her ear. No shouting that she could hear. Something else must be going on.

  The kettle clicked off. She poured boiling water into the teapot and finished setting out the sugar, spoons and Mrs. McKinnon’s lamingtons on top of the trolley.

  ‘Here we go,’ she called out, wheeling the trolley into the salon. ‘Now, what’s made you all—’

  Like sunflowers, the wide-eyed faces of her clients slowly turned to Elsa, until she alone was left staring at the giant bearded man standing at the end of Hair Affair’s counter.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For a wondrous moment, Elsa’s expression was pure heart-stopping delight. Then her lips thinned and the sparkle in her sky-blue eyes faded, taking with it the hope that Jack had nurtured over hours and hours of monotonous driving.

  Every mistake he’d made crashed down on him like an avalanche.

  He should have called. He should have told her he loved her.

  He should have stayed.

  She glanced at her gaggle of old ladies and pushed the trolley towards them. ‘If you could all help yourselves, that’d be great. I won’t be a minute.’

  A minute. That was all Jack was worth now. He deserved it too, but Jack wasn’t about to give up. Elsa wouldn’t if she was in his position.

  His love was worth more than his cowardice, as he’d learned too late.

  Elsa smoothed hands down the hips of her tight blue pants, then, chin raised, stepped purposefully towards him. A breast-hugging blue and yellow striped top made Jack aware of every sweet curve, and tugged even more longing and determination from him. Elsa’s rose-gold hair had been styled straight and smooth, pulled back in a loose ponytail that left two curved locks framing her cheeks and haughtily held jaw, and a mouth that showed no sign of smiling.

  She looked beautiful, businesslike and aloof.

  Jack glanced at her clients. No one had touched the tea trolley. All eyes were on them.

  ‘If you’re here for a haircut or shave,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid I’m fully booked.’

  ‘I’m not here for that. I’m here for you.’

  Several gasps sounded, but Jack kept his focus on Elsa. She was all that mattered. Not them, not Wirralong. Only her.

  Something skittered across Elsa’s face. Hurt? Anger?

  She dragged the appointment book towards her and studied it. The smooth framing locks of hair obscured her expression. Jack wished he could tuck one behind her ear, but was too uncertain of her to reach out
.

  ‘What makes you think I still want you?’ she said, still looking at the book.

  ‘Hope.’

  ‘You never called. Never messaged.’ Her voice broke a little. Jack hated that sound. It made him want to hold her and kiss it away. ‘I had nothing.’

  ‘I know.’

  She looked at him then, blue eyes limpid. ‘Why?’

  The old ladies craned forwards as though eager. Or perhaps bracing to come to Elsa’s rescue.

  ‘I was scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  He glanced at their audience again and fortified himself. The time had come to show he had some balls. ‘That you wouldn’t love me the way I love you.’

  ‘Oh,’ someone croaked. Others gasped. Jack sensed looks being exchanged.

  Elsa’s expression demonstrated exactly what she thought of that stupidity. She shook her head and contemplated the appointment book again for a few seconds, then raised her chin. ‘What did I ever do to make you think that?’

  ‘Nothing. It was me.’

  A flash of neon pink had him glancing to the back of the salon. Serenity was at the entrance to her rooms, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. Catching his eye, she nodded. He was doing okay, in her mind at least.

  It wasn’t her mind that counted.

  ‘This place has never been kind to me. Or Mum. Finding you …’ It was Jack’s turn to shake his head. ‘It was all too good to be true.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it could last.’

  ‘Not after the shooting, no.’

  Elsa mulled on that for a moment. ‘What changed?’

  ‘I realised it didn’t matter what anyone else thought of me, only what you did. And that I was being a coward.’ He smiled wryly. ‘My own mum had more balls than me. She understood that it was the people she loved that mattered most, not a town.’

  ‘And I suppose now you do too.’

  Christ, that tone. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t welcoming either. More … wary. Which was fair enough. What else could Jack expect after the stunt he’d pulled? He’d give Elsa a million opals if he thought it would make up for his stupidity, but it never would. Only him showing her it was the truth would.

  He hoped.

  ‘I do. Took me too long to realise it, but I’ve always been shit at this stuff. Ask Jesse.’ He edged his fingers across the counter towards her. ‘I’m going to change though. That’s a promise.’

  Elsa bit her lip and regarded the till. Then she tapped a key and the drawer popped open. She lifted the cash tray and extracted a small post bag. Jack recognised it immediately.

  ‘The opal you sent,’ she said, shaking it out onto the appointment book. ‘What was that all about?’

  Jack picked it up and rubbed his thumb over the surface. Although mostly blue, complex colours hid in its depths, making it even more stunning. ‘It was a gift. I knew the moment I saw it I wanted you to have it. It reminded me of you.’ He felt brave enough to touch curled fingers to her cheek. ‘Fire and sky.’ Jack smiled and shrugged. ‘The Romans used to call them—’

  ‘Cupid stones. I know.’ She indicated the crumpled scrap of paper that had fallen out with the opal. ‘And the note?’

  Jack looked at his hurriedly scrawled print. Not his smartest moment, but Simone had rattled him with her tears and comment about wanting him to be Zoe’s dad, and Jesse had been breathing down his neck. By the time Jack realised how curt it sounded he’d already handed over the bag.

  ‘I screwed up. I should have written how I really felt. I’m sorry.’

  For a long moment Elsa said nothing, and the hope that had been growing in Jack stalled. He couldn’t lose her now. Not because of a stupid note. Jack opened his mouth to plead his case, but Elsa got in first.

  ‘Jack,’ she said, sounding breathless. ‘Serenity looked up how much it’s worth.’

  He glanced at Serenity, who merely raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what it’s worth.’

  ‘But I can’t—’

  ‘You can.’ He took her hand, placed the opal on her palm and closed her fingers over it, both his hands holding it in place. ‘Whatever happens between us, it’ll always be yours.’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean, whatever happens between us?’

  Jack found he couldn’t answer.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘If you …’ He swallowed. She hadn’t said she loved him. She hadn’t said she’d forgiven him. All she’d done was look at him like the idiot he was and ask questions. He took a long, deep breath. ‘If you don’t forgive me for being an idiot.’

  ‘Of course, I forgive you.’ She rolled her eyes and gave a little shove so their knotted hands pushed him in the belly. ‘Seriously, Jack Hargreaves, what sort of person do you think I am?’

  Jack blinked, stunned, then grinned as elation soared through him. Elsa was not only smiling her gorgeous, teasing smile, the sky was back in her eyes.

  Relief made him bold. Not just relief. Elsa. Elsa made him bold.

  Elsa made him everything.

  ‘I can think of plenty of things you are,’ he said, grinning and bending a little closer. ‘Perfect pretty much sums it up. But beautiful fits too. So does sexy, clever, brave.’ He inched even nearer. She smelled of shampoo, love and laughter. Of all the best things in the world. ‘Most of all, you’re the girl I love.’ His voice dropped to a hopeful whisper. ‘Who I’m desperately hoping might love me back.’

  ‘There’s no might about it,’ she said, curling her arms around his neck, her smile making his heart race and other things throb. ‘I already do.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, because it was the only word his love-muddled head could come up with. ‘Good,’ Jack repeated, then his mouth closed over hers and his brain dropped to his jeans as his heart floated to the sun.

  Applause broke out. Someone wolf-whistled.

  With a groan, Jack pulled his mouth from Elsa’s. He’d forgotten they had an audience. An audience who’d caught every word of their reunion. He glanced over Elsa’s shoulder at them. A woman with her hair in rollers was dabbing under her eyes. Another was holding both hands over her heart. Yet another was beaming like they were the most adorable children on Earth.

  Surreal didn’t begin to describe it.

  He pressed his forehead against Elsa’s. ‘They’re all smiling.’

  ‘Of course they are. They’re happy for us.’

  ‘Huh,’ he said, too gobsmacked, love-drunk and turned on to come up with anything more articulate.

  Suddenly, music flooded the salon and it was Elsa who groaned.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Jack. ‘Serenity.’

  ‘The one and only.’

  He paused to listen. Even he knew this one: “When a Man Loves a Woman.” At least it wasn’t that ride a cowboy song.

  In their chairs, the old ladies started to sway in rhythm. A few hummed along, nostalgic smiles deepening the crinkles of their faces.

  Jack looked at Serenity. She twinkled her fingers at him in return, then disappeared into her rooms, but not before he caught her quickly flicking a finger under her eyes.

  The music played. Percy Sledge crooned. Jack held Elsa—not dancing, not even swaying, just holding her close. Loving the feel of her arms around him, her cheek resting on his chest like it belonged there, red-gold hair silky and shining. Warm, bright, funny Elsa.

  The little lioness who’d roared him home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack leaned on the crowbar and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. The caw of a crow had him looking up. He traced its journey across a sky scudding with clouds, until it was lost against the shadowy tree line and patchwork hues of Strathroy’s hills.

  An early autumn break had soaked the district’s dormant seed bank and now their whiskery shoots coated the landscape in a beard of green. Everyone was praying for follow-up rain, but after a long, dry summer it was still satisfying to at last see the trees washe
d clean of dust and the ground flushed with colour.

  He drank from his water bottle and went back to work, digging out the old fence that had once protected Strathroy’s backyard. The rotted rails were stacked on a bonfire pile, but the fence stumps remained and today he was clearing the last of them. If the weather held, tomorrow he’d start on the new fence. Then once that was up and the garden beds laid out and the pergola that Elsa wanted built, Jack would seed the lawn. With proper care, come spring they’d have the perfect outdoor entertainment area, complete with lush lawn for backyard cricket and other games, and well separated from the creek by a sturdy fence to keep any visiting kids safe.

  Jack was looking forwards to that.

  He was looking forwards to a lot of things in his renewed life.

  He used a spade to dig out the last of the timber and concrete, and tossed the remains into a wheelbarrow, then moved onto the next post. Expecting another slog, Jack was surprised when the crowbar shifted the post with ease.

  He pushed again, only to have the footing crumble completely away, and cause him to lose his balance on the gravelly slope. Jack pitched backwards in an ungainly somersault, ending on his butt and swearing loudly at whichever ancestor came up with the stupid idea to put the fence boundary so close to the creek edge in the first place.

  He patted his bum and looked back at the house, hoping Elsa hadn’t witnessed his ignoble tumble, but the slope was too acute to see this far down. Jack pondered for a moment. They’d lose lawn area, but it made more sense to shift the fence to higher ground. The slope was useless anyway. More than likely the lawn would wash out with the first decent rain, and if the creek flooded enough the fence would be at risk. To be fair, the creek hadn’t flooded in years but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

  Jack scratched his chin. Another thing to run by Elsa. She was better at this design type stuff than him. She was better at most things.

  He shook his head, smiling to himself. Hopeless, that’s what he was. A hopeless, love-drunk sap, and now Elsa had moved in and he was discovering more and more to love about her, every passing day saw his sappiness worsen. Even Jesse, when he came to visit, had noticed. And laughed, the little shit. Jack hadn’t really minded. He was too thrilled to have his brother back in his life, and smiling again.