by Mandy Magro
She still couldn’t shake the feeling she knew him from somewhere, though. Each and every time she was around him, she felt as though she’d known him for years. Had they been involved somehow in a past life? Or had they already briefly crossed paths in this one? Maybe. But wouldn’t Ronny have said something at the bank? Perhaps it was just as simple as she’d first thought – she’d seen him around town when he’d been here visiting his great aunt Lottie. But then why did she feel so connected to him, as though a piece of string was tying them to one another? It was a very strange sensation, and one she’d never felt before.
Rolling on her side, she stretched her arms above her head. She had to stop dissecting everything and trying to make sense of it, because sometimes in life you had to just let things unfold in their own time. Something would eventually explain why she felt she knew him and until then, she needed to focus on the wonderful new friend she’d made in him. That he was someone very reliable who could do the renovations – and be mighty fine perving material at the same time – was a bonus.
She eyed the book lying open beside her on the bed. Before drifting off she’d been reading the wise words of Deepak Chopra on how to overcome her fears so she could once again pick up her beloved guitar and sing. The book had been a gift from her aunts almost two years ago, but she’d only found the desire to read it after the incidents of the past couple of weeks: the heartache she’d felt at seeing her beautiful guitar abandoned in the attic; the godawful nightmares that had left her clutching her pillow too many nights recently; and then hearing Ronny speak about how much his music meant to him, and seeing how carefully he manoeuvred his guitar onto the back seat when he went to put her in his car – it had melted her heart and made her own passion scratch at her soul as though it were tired of being caged. Talking with Ronny, and hearing his deep passion for his music as he spoke about how much he loved playing his guitar and singing, did more than bring goose bumps to her skin, it had peeled back the bandage she’d wrapped around the gaping hole in her heart and left her aching to hold her guitar once again. It was the final kick up the butt she needed, making her realise it was high time she took action, instead of running from the pain of her past. She couldn’t go on instilling the importance of combating your fears into everyone she worked with in her healing sessions when she wasn’t doing it herself. But she also understood she couldn’t beat herself up over this either – it wasn’t going to help her situation. One step at a time … As May and Alice had kept gently reminding her, when the time was right, her focus would shift to the future rather than the past, and then she’d be ready to take the next step in her healing journey.
It felt amazing to have finally reached that point after nine years of running from it. And once again, Ronny Sinclair had been the catalyst. Fate had certainly provided her with an earth angel – if only said earth angel wasn’t with one very infuriating Amy Mayberry, life could be close to perfect.
Sighing, she picked up her book and placed a bookmark between the pages, noting she only had another twenty or so pages to go. She was already familiar with most of the things the author spoke of, like the importance of meditation and distraction techniques to help you get over your fears, but reading it helped reinforce what she knew deep down she needed to do. She was actually excited at the prospect of putting everything Deepak Chopra had written about into action, even though facing her fears head on was going to be terrifying. Setting your mind to do something was the first step but actually doing it was a completely different matter. She knew she would have to take small steps, one foot in front of the other, but like all the previous times she’d tried and failed, this time, she wouldn’t give up. Because she knew that if she didn’t find the courage to finally conquer her fears and rid herself of the grip that awful night had on her, she would be destined to live the rest of her days without her music, and that possibility was even more terrifying than anything she’d already gone through.
She huffed as she rolled her eyes. Damn fear and all it stood for. She refused to be one of those unfortunate souls who let fear overtake them any longer.
Determination filling her, she gazed around her old bedroom, grateful for the fact her aunts had insisted on putting one of the spare beds from the homestead in here for her after returning from the hospital, with Ronny’s help, as well as a couch in the lounge room and a fridge and some cutlery and crockery in the kitchen so she and Ronny had somewhere to make lunch and snacks. It saved them having to make the trip back to the homestead all the time, which was a difficult feat for her on crutches. May and Alice had also made a trip into the grocery store yesterday afternoon, returning with enough food stores to last them a month at the cottage so she could stick to her promise of providing Ronny with smoko every day – it was a hike back to the homestead to get anything. Ronny had tried to tell her several times that he didn’t expect her to follow through on her offer now she’d hurt her ankle, but she was determined to look after him since he was going out of his way to help her. It was the very least she could do.
She gazed through the curtainless window at the beautiful country view, the undulating landscape drenched in a golden hue from the mid-afternoon sunlight. There was nothing of great significance to see, no buildings or roads, no cars or people. Just rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers, the horizon way off in the distance as though the landscape went on into eternity. It was this beautiful infinity that quite often helped Ivy find clarity. She smiled wistfully – it had been a long time since she’d awoken to the view from this bedroom window. And yet she could still recall so many happy times she’d shared with her mother in this very backyard like it was only yesterday. For it was out there her mum had spent many hours teaching Ivy how to play the guitar, and where they’d made mud pies and played hide and seek, and where they’d enjoyed many a day out in the sunshine while her mum had gardened or lain with Ivy cuddled into her arms as she’d read her stories. It was also where Ivy had fallen from the branch of the big old oak tree and encountered the first of several broken bones. Sadly, she barely had any memories of her father, the man never having bothered to get back in touch with her after leaving them all those years ago. And to cope with that she’d learnt to shut him out of her mind, and heart, completely.
With the memories of her mother floating in her mind a pang of nostalgia hit her and squeezed her heart tight. This house did mean more to her than bricks and mortar and a way to pay off debts, she just hadn’t wanted to admit it for fear of disappointing her aunts. Pretending everything was all okay and she was hunky dory with selling the place was her way of trying to cope, but as per usual, all she was doing was ignoring her true feelings. But what was she meant to do? There was no other option. She had to sell it. Tears stung her eyes and as much as she tried to blink them away, they began rolling down her cheeks. It was going to hurt to sell this place. A hell of a lot. She’d always dreamt about the day she’d make it her own, imagined what it would be like hearing the pitter patter of her own children, envisioned living a life here just like she had with her own mother, as short as it was, but with a reliable loving husband by her side, but that day was never going to come now, and until this very moment she hadn’t allowed herself to truly feel what it was going to be like to let it go. Yes, she was still determined it was the right thing to do, and she didn’t want to be living next door to Healing Hills if her aunts were living somewhere else, but God, how she wished things could have been different, that life hadn’t placed her in this position. But she was helping her aunts, and that was that. If May or Alice got even one whiff that she was upset about letting the cottage go, they would forbid her selling it, with no further discussion. And that would be the end of everything.
The flash of Ronny tearing past the window with a Frisbee in his hand broke her gloomy train of thought and she couldn’t help but smile through her tears when she spotted Bo and Jessie racing after him, the look of pure pleasure on Ronny’s face priceless as he laughed out loud. Bo and Jessie
were clearly having a whale of a time too. It was an unusual sight – a Frisbee wasn’t usually still attached to a human when a dog chased it.
Feeling as though she was missing out on all the fun, Ivy pulled herself together. She put on a happy face, and got ready to go outside and join in. She grabbed her crutches from where they were resting on the bedside table and then, after slipping her feet into her thongs, she slowly made her way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping off along the way to make a quick trip to the loo.
Passing through the kitchen on her way to the back verandah, Ivy stopped to wash her hands and face at the kitchen sink – the tools and cans of paint in the bathroom made it a little too difficult to manoeuvre about in. She’d also spotted bits and pieces of building materials in the lounge room, giving her a huge sense of relief that the renovations were underway. She was impressed with the progress Ronny had made in one day, and could only imagine what he was going to achieve in a few weeks. Turning to grab a tea towel from the oven door, she halted, grinning at what was sitting on the kitchen bench: a sandwich on a plate, covered in plastic wrap, a note attached to it.
A sanger for the sleeping beauty … hope you like egg, lettuce and mayonnaise.
Smiling like a lovesick teenager, Ivy folded the note up, kissed it, and then tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. She was suddenly ravenous, not only for the food, but also for her hired help. This was the sweetest gesture ever, and made her want him even more. Pulling the wrap off she picked up one half of the double-decker sandwich and took a bite, moaning with how good it was. This was the best damn egg sandwich she’d ever tasted; the man clearly knew his way around a kitchen. Carefully, she pulled open the pieces of bread and pinched a piece of the egg mixture from the middle, trying to figure out what he’d put in it to make it taste so delicious. First she eyed it suspiciously, then she rolled it around on her tongue. Curry powder, that’s what she could taste, and something else. She couldn’t for the life of her work out what that something else was and it frustrated her.
A captivating sound dragged her attention from her egg investigation and to the open window. Was she hearing what she thought she was – her favourite love song of all time? Her heart started thudding heavily in her chest as she held her breath. Something flickered inside her, like the wick of a candle being lit. Hesitantly, she peered out the window, not wanting Ronny to catch her, for she didn’t want him to stop if he was shy of an audience. The sight she found stole every last bit of oxygen from her in an almighty sigh. Her lips curled into the biggest smile as emotions swelled inside of her. And everything shifted as her fear of men, and of falling in love, and of being heartbroken yet again, faded to the background. This man before her was the one she wanted to fall in love with, the one she wanted for her own, the one she’d been longing for her whole adult life. If only she could make it so.
Ronny sat beneath the big old oak tree she used to climb, his back resting against the trunk and his guitar in his lap, both dogs now relaxing beside him. In his jeans and a singlet, his wide-brimmed hat shading his handsome face, completely oblivious to the outside world as he sang his heart out, it was a scene worthy of a hot guys of the bush calendar. That, right there, the essence of Ronny Sinclair, was absolute heaven for her. What she’d give to have him love her, to make love to her, to be able to hear his wonderful voice every day. And she could just imagine what his touch would feel like, how his kiss would make her feel … she’d be putty in his strong, hardworking hands. Tingles ran through her at the thought of making love to him.
The rhythmic strum of the guitar floated into the room like an angel sent down from heaven and picked her up on its wings. She allowed herself to float within its trance. ‘Once in a Lifetime Love’ by Alan Jackson was the most beautiful song on earth to her. Every single word of it made her feel as though she was wrapped in a warm embrace, taking her to a place far away from all the heartache and pain and challenges of everyday life. The world around her faded as she listened to Ronny; time stood still. It was just her, and Ronny, and the lure of the music. And it was ethereal, exquisite, mind-blowing. Ronny’s voice reminded her of the country music legend Waylon Jennings, deep and husky and strong, and filled with promises of tomorrow, the manliness of it inciting shivers all over her.
Lost in his voice, Ivy rested her face in her palms and began to quietly sing with him as she continued gazing out the window, taken back to when she was young and carefree and unashamedly innocent. And it was a wonderful place to be, if only for a few minutes. She felt free, and, for the first time in a very long time, she knew she was completely safe.
As if sensing her watching, Ronny lifted his head and turned towards her, his lips curling into the sexiest of smiles when he spotted her through the window. Unperturbed by his audience of one, he continued to sing as he gazed at her, making her feel as if every word passing his lips was from his heart to hers. Could it be true? Her hands fluttered to her chest as she smiled softly back at him, feeling as though Ronny was caressing every inch of her with his voice. Was he really singing to her, or was he just singing at her? She wondered if he’d ever serenaded Amy, and jealousy coursed through her as she remembered he was taken.
She shook her head as her hands dropped from her fluttering heart, the magic moment lost in an instant. How could a woman like Amy end up with a bloke as sensitive and as deep as Ronny Sinclair? And what was Ivy doing so bloody wrong to not be able to find a man like him to love her? Her emotions bubbled to the surface as tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away as she took a few deep breaths. Life could be so freaking unfair, but she had to make the most of what she had right now, and not dwell on what she didn’t – or never would – have.
The song finished, Ronny stood and gestured for the dogs to join him back inside the cottage. Ivy turned away from the window, taking a few moments to gather herself before he came in. She was shaky and a little light-headed, but also strangely focused. Some powerful things had just happened to her in those three minutes. Firstly, that was the only time in nine long years she’d felt uninhibited enough, compelled enough, and safe enough, to sing. Her first step to being able to pick her guitar up again, and it had happened so naturally. And secondly, she knew in her heart of hearts that she was falling hard for Ronny, and had been from the instant she’d laid eyes on him back at the bank. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was something about him that made her feel safe, and somehow loved. She wanted him, real bad. In any other situation she’d be doing her best to woo him. She sighed as a mixture of happiness and sadness washed over her. It felt so good to acknowledge her feelings for Ronny, even though she couldn’t act upon them. Just in those few minutes of being lost in his musical world, something had shifted inside of her, and she liked it. A lot. As she picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite, her hunger gnawing at her empty stomach once again, she remembered what her mum had once told her in this very kitchen: Unlike humankind, music doesn’t ever discriminate, sweetheart. There’s always going to be a song, a lyric, a melody, a beat, for each and all of us to connect to on some level. It has the power to relieve the tension of an awkward silence. It can speak to you in so many different ways and can release you from the sometimes unfair expectations of society so you feel free to be who you truly are, to emanate what makes you uniquely you. And it is so powerful it can also be the saviour from an addiction, and from life itself. So promise me, sweetheart, that you will always have music in your heart, and a song upon your lips, for it will get you through almost anything life challenges you with. I can promise you that.
Her mother had always been a mystical person and so gifted with her musical talents. Not a day had gone by without her mum instilling some spiritual way of thinking in Ivy.
‘Hey there you, did you have a good rest?’ Ronny appeared at the back door as he made sure to wipe his boots on the mat before stepping inside. Unlike Bo and Jessie, who came tearing into the cottage at break-neck speed, sliding in beside her f
or a pat. As she gave her two canine mates some love, Ivy noted Ronny’s thoughtfulness. Her mother would have been very impressed.
‘Sure did, I passed out for a few hours.’ Ivy shoved the last of the sandwich in her mouth before one of the dogs snatched it from her hand, and then pointed to the empty plate. ‘And can I say, this is the yummiest sandwich I’ve ever tasted.’
Ronny placed his guitar on the kitchen bench, right beside where she was standing. His smile was enough to send her legs weak as he brushed past her. ‘I’m glad you think so.’
She ached to reach out and rub her fingertips along the timber or pick the strings of the guitar only inches from her. Dragging her eyes away from it she looked at Ronny. ‘What did you put in it to make it taste so good?’
‘Oh, nothing in particular, just a whole lotta love.’ Ronny winked at her, grinning.
‘Oh come on, Mr Led Zeppelin, tell me your secret.’
Ronny went to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke. ‘If I do I’ll have to kill you.’ He held the can up. ‘Want one?’
Ivy nodded. ‘Aw, come on, pretty please … with strawberries and cream on top.’
He walked towards her, handed her the can, and then leant in to whisper, ‘As well as the usual suspects of mayonnaise and curry powder, a sprinkle of mustard powder and a little bit of dill.’
Ivy had to stop herself from visibly shivering as his warm breath travelled over her ear and down the side of her neck. How did Ronny make egg sandwich ingredients sound so damn sexy?
She arched a brow. ‘Really? Interesting. Where did you get mustard and dill from?’