No Place Like You

by Marnie St Clair

  The storm had eased, but the rain was still falling, a gentle patter on his metal roof. He’d well and truly banked the fire, it was hissing and sputtering as the flames made short work of the weathered wood.

  ‘I should go,’ she said eventually.

  Yes, she should go. She had to go.

  He didn’t want her to go. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t talk to her, but he didn’t want her to go.

  He didn’t know anything anymore. He felt like the foundations of his life had just been ripped out from under him, and he couldn’t make sense of anything.

  He heard her movements behind him, her hands patting the clothes she’d worn over. He’d hung them over chairs near the fire to dry, but they’d still be wet. And if they weren’t, they’d get wet again if she walked home through the paddocks in the rain. She didn’t have to trudge back through the rain.

  ‘I’ll drive you home.’ He hadn’t planned to say it, but when his words reached his ears, they sounded right. Of course he’d drive her home.

  She looked at him, hands still on her clothes.

  ‘Don’t worry about them. Keep the blanket.’

  She looked like she wanted to fight it for a moment, but then she just nodded and bundled her clothes up.

  They walked out to his ute and drove the short distance back in silence, Lily wrapped in the blanket, staring out the window into the black night. Black until they approached the house. Mirabook was lit up like a Christmas tree, waiting for her to come home. He liked that.

  He pulled up in front and cut the engine, but she made no move to get out of the vehicle. He didn’t want her to. It didn’t feel right, leaving things like this. But at the same time, he didn’t know what he wanted to say to her. They sat, the two of them, staring out the front window, neither of them ready to move, to signal that the night was over.

  ‘Lily,’ he started slowly. He reached up, clasped the steering wheel. ‘You’re right.’ He squeezed hard a couple of times, released the wheel and rested his forearms against it instead. ‘But I don’t think … I don’t know …’ He stopped when he realised he had no idea what came next. ‘You’re going to have to give me some time.’

  ‘I know.’ She let out a big breath. ‘At least we’ve talked now.’

  And still they sat. God knows how long they sat there.

  He was hoping that maybe his head would clear, and he’d know what to say to her. But it didn’t. He didn’t have anything for her. Not tonight.

  He gave up, turned his mind to something else altogether. ‘What time are we starting on Saturday?’

  She turned to him in surprise, taken aback by his switch to the mundane, eyes searching his for understanding. There was nothing to understand. No hidden message. It was just enough. Everything they’d been through tonight was enough.

  ‘The earlier, the better,’ she said finally.

  ‘Careful. This is a farm boy you’re talking to. Early means somewhere shortly after midnight.’ It was a weak attempt at humour, but she graced him with a small smile anyway.

  ‘Seven?’

  ‘Seven.’

  She got out of the car, walked up the front steps. With her straight back, long hair and the cream blanket around her shoulders, she looked like a native American princess. He waited till she was inside, then started his engine.

  As appeared to have become his habit, he drove straight past his turn-off and pulled up next to his tree. It was quite the routine now, this check, and he wondered if he’d developed some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder.

  He got out, walked over, stood palm and cheek against the trunk of the tree that felt like an old friend. Could it tell him what it all meant, and what the hell he was supposed to do now?

  It meant something, that talk they’d just had; it had changed something. He wasn’t sure what yet, but things felt … Lighter. Clearer, somehow.

  She was sorry about how things had turned out, but she didn’t accept responsibility for his father’s death.

  Such a clear, strong statement. When had she got to be so strong?

  Thinking of her parents, it was a miracle she’d turned out the way she had. Despite her surface advantages—the looks, the money—life had dealt her a shitty hand. But she hadn’t collapsed in a heap, and he’d never heard her complain. In her own slightly unorthodox way, she just quietly set about dealing with it. No matter what, she just kept trying. She had reason to be bitter, reason to be full of blame, but she chose not to carry that burden.

  He’d gotten used to thinking of Lily as fragile, but now he wondered if she wasn’t possibly the strongest person he’d ever known.

  He’d said he needed more time to think, and he did. But he could feel already things had changed. Big shifts in his foundations. A story he’d been telling himself for ten years just didn’t feel true anymore. It was like having an outer layer of skin stripped off, and he felt vulnerable without it, because while it might have been false, it’d been comfortable in its own way. And now it was gone, he wasn’t sure what was underneath.

  ***

  ‘So, toppings for a couple of chicken and pesto and a couple of salami and olive—we all agree on that?’ Katie queried as she slung her handbag around her shoulder. She and Saxon had changed out of their painting clothes, and were about to drive into town and pick up ingredients for a well-deserved pizza night.

  From where she stood on a ladder, Lily almost groaned in anticipation. ‘Sounds like heaven.’

  ‘Okay,’ Saxon said. ‘We’ll be back when we’re back.’ He turned and gave her an exaggerated lascivious wink as they walked out the door.

  Lily smiled as she dipped her paintbrush into the can. The way he and Katie had been making eyes at each other all weekend, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were gone for quite some time. She wouldn’t have put Katie and Saxon together, but they did actually make a weird kind of sense, and if Saxon had found someone he really liked, she couldn’t be happier.

  Katie had asked her earlier if she had the ‘best friend green light’ to go after Saxon. She didn’t have to ask, but Lily had said yes. Of course. The more she got to know Katie, the more she liked her. She’d been here all weekend, a cheerful enthusiastic member of the team. They’d all worked their butts off, and between the four of them, they’d got a lot done.

  The pizza run left her alone with Josh for the first time all weekend. They were using small brushes to get into the fiddly areas around the cornices. Once they were finished, that was it for the basics. She’d have to start getting serious about bringing all the design elements in on top.

  ‘I’m almost done here,’ Josh said eventually.

  ‘Me too,’ she replied. She stopped painting for a minute to watch him work. She loved the way he painted—skillfully, carefully, deliberately. Like he did everything.

  He was wearing an ancient white T-shirt, the material so thin she could see the muscles in his arms and back as he reached with his paintbrush. Her gaze drifted lower, over lean hips and well-worn jeans hugging long, strong legs. She could have stood there on her ladder watching him all day. Since looking seemed to be the only thing she was allowed to do at the moment.

  ‘It’s looking good, Lil.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Frustrated, she turned her attention back to her own work. ‘Thanks to you guys and all your help. I can’t believe how much we got done this weekend.’

  Not only the ballroom, but the morning room as well. Lily had realised, as the plans for the evening took shape in her head, that they’d need another large indoor area, somewhere to go while the ballroom was transformed from the seating required for dinner into a large open space for dancing.

  Given the bad memories this room held, she was more than happy to transform it—the less resemblance it bore to how it used to look, the better. She wondered if Josh remembered that this was the room. She wasn’t going to ask him. Things were fragile enough between the two of them at the moment without her bringing up things like that again.

&
nbsp; ‘The weather helped,’ he said, excruciatingly polite, as he’d been all weekend.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. The sunny, breezy spring days had been just perfect for drying paint. And were they reduced to talking about the weather now?

  ‘What else do you want done?’

  ‘I’d love to refresh and revarnish the verandahs.’ If it was a mild evening—and the ball was still almost two weeks away, so there was no way of predicting what fickle spring might throw at them—some might like the fresh air. ‘If everyone has the time, that is.’

  ‘I can make time,’ Josh said casually.

  She smiled at him, and he smiled back. She melted.

  How much longer was he going to make her wait? She wouldn’t mind making the first move, but the ball was in his court. That was the way it had to be. He’d said he needed time, so she’d been giving him some.

  She’d spent the last few days thinking over what he’d finally let out on Wednesday night. Maybe she should be angry at the ridiculous accusations—because they were ridiculous. As much as she regretted the fact that his dad had ended up the real loser from that afternoon, there was no way it was reasonable to hold her responsible for his death. As she’d pointed out, not even her father was responsible, as crummy as his actions had been. Maureen had told her weeks ago that Josh’s father had succumbed to pancreatic cancer. It was fast and vicious, and she was sure, devastating for both Josh and Louise.

  But she couldn’t be angry with him. She kept seeing his face as he’d told her she’d killed his father—the pain there, in his eyes, in the line of his jaw. The way he’d turned from her when it was all too much, fists clenched, head down, beyond words. It hit her every time. It was clear how much he was still struggling with his father’s death.

  She could see what had happened. In his grief, he’d needed someone to blame, and the Schofields had been it. After all, they weren’t entirely blameless, none of them.

  Josh had been brave enough to admit maybe he’d been wrong. She was in no doubt about how much that had cost him. But this thing between them was only going to work if he really did move on from everything that happened that day. She couldn’t remain the guilty party forever. She’d apologised for her part in it—he could either forgive her or he couldn’t. She’d give him as much time and space as he needed, and ultimately, be there for him. If he let her.

  She wasn’t sure where they stood exactly, but things had changed for the better. The latent anger that had been oozing out his pores since she’d arrived back in Yarrow seemed to have diminished. She just had to wait while, in typical Josh fashion, he worked it all out in his head, and came to terms with everything. She still believed in them. She knew her heart, and she knew she was never going to find another Josh.

  ‘I saw Saxon winking at you,’ he said, eyes still on the brush and the plasterwork above him.

  She delighted in his lighter tone. ‘Jealous?’

  ‘Please. Don’t insult me.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re jealous.’

  ‘Yeah right. He’s so pretty he’s like a Ken doll.’

  ‘Yep, no doubt about it, Saxon’s a handsome guy.’

  ‘That’s what you’re into? The Ken doll look?’

  She turned, flicked her paintbrush at him, getting a spray of glossy paint all over his already paint-splattered work clothes.

  ‘Hey. What was that for?’

  ‘What do you think? I happen to be into tall, lumbering idiots with pebbles where their brains should be.’

  ‘Is that right?’ But he didn’t bother hiding the small smile on his face.

  ‘You need me to say it again? Saxon is my best friend.’

  ‘I thought I was your best friend.’

  ‘Saxon’s my best friend-slash-brother, you’re my best friend-slash …’

  ‘Slash what?’

  She wished he’d tell her the answer to that one. She flicked another load of paint at him. Wiping it off slowly with the bottom of his T-shirt, he came down his ladder and paused, hands on lean hips, eyes narrowed. ‘You know what, Lily Schofield? You do that again, I’m going to think you’re asking to be punished.’

  Well, finally.

  Josh’d been a perfect gentleman all weekend. He hadn’t so much as kissed her on the cheek, and though she knew she had to wait for him, she was about to climb the walls in frustration. She didn’t want a perfect gentleman. She missed his big, warm body. His slow, sure touch, and his deep, dirty kisses.

  She stepped down a few rungs on her own ladder, and without breaking eye contact, she ever-so-slowly dipped the brush into the tin, ran it across the rim to get rid of some excess, then raised the brush and flicked.

  He wiped it off his face and hair slowly, looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘I warned you. That’s it. You’ve got a five second head start.’

  She looked at him blankly. Head start?

  ‘One. Two.’

  Man, she was so in for it.

  ‘Three.’

  Shit. She better move. She raced out of the room, flew down the hallway and out the front door. Her heart was pounding and a delicious thrill of anticipation ran through her. Who knew what he was going to do when he caught her?

  It was new, this light playful thrill. Totally new. Since she’d come back, everything had been so serious, so intense. And in the past … The sixteen-year old Josh wouldn’t have pursued like this—too shy. The fourteen-year old Lily wouldn’t have wanted to be caught—not ready for what came next.

  But she was ready now. Was she ever!

  She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, but she knew it was fruitless. Josh would catch up with her. He might be big, but he could move.

  Around the house and down the path, towards the apple trees. Running, running, heart pounding.

  She could hear him. Gaining on her, though she couldn’t possibly run any faster. Closer, closer, so close she could taste it.

  And then she was caught, and they were tumbling to the earth together. He took the fall, then allowed momentum to carry them over, so he was covering her. His lower body was deliciously heavy on hers, but he carefully raised his upper body off hers, propped himself up on his elbows.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, eyes and mouth centimetres from hers.

  ‘Hey,’ she replied.

  He leaned down and kissed her, and she almost moaned in relief. God, she’d missed him. Missed his mouth on hers, missed his solid warmth surrounding her. She reached her arms around his shoulders, bringing him down, closer still.

  ‘Wait.’ He flipped them both over so she was on top of him.

  Lily fell that little bit further in love. This was her Josh, unable to relax until he ensured she was all right. She was better than all right, she thought as she leaned down to kiss him.

  Wiccans used apple blossoms to attract love. Did Josh know that? Probably not, and she wouldn’t tell him. But she would love him right here, with blossoms below her, and blossoms above her, and she would try to cast a little spell of her own.

  Chapter 14

  On her knees on the parquet floor of the ballroom, a circle of candles around her, Lily lit the last one and blew out the match. She sat back, cross-legged in front of a bottle of wine and two antique Lalique vases, and closed her eyes, letting the quiet stillness of the house wash over her.

  Saxon had journeyed to town to buy groceries. He’d be back soon, but that was okay, this wouldn’t take long.

  She’d done some thinking over the past week. A lot of thinking.

  She’d put up with an enormous amount of crap in the last year. From everyone in Sydney. From people she’d thought were friends, and she’d just let them to walk away without calling them out on their shallow, selfish choices. Her bosses at Gilded, who’d sacked her unjustly and she hadn’t made so much as a whimper of protest. And since she returned to Mirabook, more of the same. The committee women had been so unfair and nasty the whole time she’d been trying to kill them with kindness. Josh had treated her appalling
ly on more than one occasion, walked all over her like a door mat, and she’d gone back for more.

  It was tempting to blame everyone else—they’d all behaved badly, not her. But it was like that old saying, ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’. She’d given her consent. That wasn’t about them, it was about her. And though she’d put a stop to it now, she needed to think about why she’d allowed it all to happen in the first place.

  After everything that had happened in Sydney, everything she’d lost, she’d been desperate to find a new place, a new life, for herself. And she was sure that desperation was part of the reason why she’d allowed herself to be treated that way.

  But it went further than that. Part of her must believe she deserved it. Part of her must believe she and her family were bad people. They weren’t. They’d made their fair share of mistakes, but they weren’t bad. They were human beings, the same as everyone else, worthy of the same love and respect. She was here today to tell the universe that she finally understood that.

  She was here today to say goodbye.

  ‘Mum,’ she started, opening her eyes. ‘You believed life was for living. You grabbed opportunities for joy and excitement with both hands, and held on for the ride.’ She was only going to say positive things, only going to hold love in her heart. ‘You brought me here every year. I have a childhood full of memories of Mirabook, and that’s thanks to you.’ She took the vases from in front of her and put them to her right. ‘I accept these vases as a gift from you, and in return, I wish you eternal peace.’

  ‘Dad.’ Harder to think of positives for him, harder to hold love in her heart. But because of that, it was all the more important. ‘You worked hard to provide for your family, to provide them with things that you believed were important. I believe you loved Mum, and tried to make it work as best as you knew how. I believe you loved me as much as you were capable of.’ She took the bottle of Grange in her hands. ‘They say you can only love if you’ve been loved. I accept this wine as a gift from you, and in return, I offer you a daughter’s love.’ She put the bottle to her left.

  ‘Lily Schofield. You’ve made mistakes but you are a child of the universe. I believe you are a good person. I believe you deserve good things to happen to you. I believe you are worthy of love and respect.’