Time Will Tell

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Thanks again so much for the plans – they’re lovely – and for calling.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome. I look forward to discussing them with you in person soon.’

  ‘Okay, bye.’

  ‘See you soon,’ Jake said, and hung up.

  Emily felt heavy with disappointment as she handed the phone back to David. How soon is soon? Hearing Jake’s voice had stirred a deep longing in the pit of her stomach. ‘Right, this calls for more champagne,’ David said, clapping his hands, and left the room. Emily sat down and stared at the plans while trying to decipher her feelings.

  ‘Having him call wasn’t meant to upset you,’ Barbara said, dragging out a chair and sitting down next to her.

  ‘It hasn’t. I think it’s more surprised me, because until now I didn’t realise how much I felt for him. I hardly know him, but God, Barb, I miss him.’

  Barbara raised her eyebrows and grinned knowingly at her friend.

  ‘Yes, I know. You were right, I was wrong – I’m quite possibly in love with him.’

  ‘Then why are you so glum?’

  ‘Because I wish he was here.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

  ‘But whenever that is, it’ll only be a visit – he lives in Melbourne, remember?’ A strange expression crossed Barbara’s face and Emily was about to ask, ‘What’s that look for?’ when David reappeared beside them with the champagne bottle with rubber stopper tucked under his left arm, a small plate in each hand, and another balanced on his right arm. Each dish held a small salad of baby spinach, chicken, roast pumpkin and fetta. She was so swept away by the beauty of the presentation that the question on her lips left her.

  ‘Entrée is served,’ David said.

  ‘Thanks darling,’ Barbara said, relieving him of the plates.

  ‘God Barbara, this is superb,’ Emily said after her first mouthful.

  ‘Sorry, but I can’t take the credit – entrée and dessert are all David’s work.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a dark horse!?’

  ‘Not all beer and barbeques is our David, hey darling?’ Barbara said, smiling fondly at her husband, and patting his hand.

  ‘Too much MasterChef and My Kitchen Rules,’ he said with a dismissive wave.

  ‘And to think, only a few short weeks ago he was complaining about my viewing tastes,’ Barbara said.

  Emily smiled at her happy friends’ gentle sparring. She and John had been like that once, briefly. She could imagine having such fun with Jake.

  By ten o’clock Emily was having trouble staying awake, but she managed to make it to midnight, when they celebrated by pulling the strings on a couple of party poppers, cheering, and hugging.

  After a week of late nights and early mornings, of stress and anguish, she’d had a lovely relaxing birthday – much better than she had ever had with John – but again Emily wished Jake had been there to stop her feeling like the fifth wheel.

  Maybe next year.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Emily followed her morning routine of getting up early and letting Grace out, but instead of sitting at the table with her mug of steaming coffee, she decided to take it back to her bedroom. She wasn’t hung-over from her night with Barbara and David, or even all that tired. She just felt like indulging herself, which she rarely did.

  And it was pouring with rain outside again. It was nice listening to it beating down on the iron roof, and she’d managed to stop herself worrying about the damage it might be doing. What will be will be.

  She put her mug down with a thud on the wooden chair she used as a bedside table and climbed back into bed, wondering why she didn’t do this more often. Grace leapt onto the bed and curled up at her feet, instantly warming them.

  Emily pushed the pillows up to support her and retrieved her mug. Leaning back into the plushness, she wallowed in a feeling of deep satisfaction. Why was she up before seven every morning, even weekends, when she didn’t have a job to get to – or anywhere else to be for that matter?

  The answer came to her as she took a deep sip of her coffee: because that was the way her mother had raised her. Yes, Emily said to herself, scowling. I have been well and truly indoctrinated.

  She then found herself wondering whether the yearning she felt for Jake – which seemed to be getting stronger by the day – was due to her mother’s brainwashing as well; the idea that she had to have a man in her life. Deep down, was her desire for him just an expression of some pathetic unconscious fear of being alone?

  She certainly wasn’t remotely interested in sharing her space with a man twenty-four seven – which was most of the reason she’d turned down Nathan Lucas. Some occasional company would be nice though, and Jake was so intelligent and such a good conversationalist…

  She bent down to retrieve the tube of plans that she’d left propped up between the bed and the wall. It really was so terribly generous of him to do that for her; no doubt it would have cost thousands if she’d had to commission them herself. And to organise sending them to Barbara and David. It really had been a lovely surprise.

  Emily folded her legs and then unrolled the plans across them. They were perfect. She pictured herself chattering with guests sitting around the large table in her freshly renovated kitchen while she cooked them a hearty breakfast. If only she could start searching for paint colours, tiles, fixtures and fittings.

  But she’d been raised to be cautious. And while she’d arranged the survey in preparation for the subdivision, she agreed with Jake’s initial advice that she wait until everything was in her name – signed, sealed, and delivered – before starting any actual renovations. She wouldn’t make her initial payment to the Bakers until the subdivision was completed, and that might be months yet.

  But it would be worth the wait. With a couple of hundred thousand to spend, the place would be a showpiece. Not that that was the aim. The point was to save the old house. And somehow indirectly make up for the stone cottage John had destroyed. If she hadn’t shown an interest in it, she was sure it would never have crossed his radar. If only she’d kept her mouth shut and her aspirations to herself.

  A quiet voice somewhere in the depths of her mind piped up, saying, ‘But that is what a good marriage is about; sharing dreams and working towards them together, as a team.’

  Emily found herself sinking into melancholy as she wondered whether John had had any regrets, or seen the errors of his life flash before him as he lay dying.

  Stop it, Emily.

  She pushed the plans aside so she wouldn’t drip coffee on them, took up her mug again, and forced her mind to focus on how peaceful Grace looked slumbering at her feet.

  *

  Emily was startled to hear banging on the front door. The rain had stopped and the house was eerily quiet. She heard a bark and then the sound of claws on the floorboards.

  ‘Hello, anybody home?’

  She sat up and wiped her eyes, groggily. Somewhere along the way she’d slumped down. The male voice was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She must have fallen asleep. How long for? A quick check of her clock radio told her around half an hour had passed. She wished the caller would go away; maybe they would if she pretended she wasn’t there.

  ‘Em, it’s me, Jake. Are you here?’

  Jake!

  She sat bolt upright and began searching frantically as if for some magic solution to enable her to appear at the door not looking like she’d still been in bed. She patted at the bird’s nest that was her hair. It wasn’t like Jake hadn’t already seen her in her just-got-out-of-bed state a couple of times before. But something felt different this morning.

  ‘Coming,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Em!’ He sounded quite insistent now. Odd for Jake.

  ‘Yes, I’m coming,’ she called in a voice barely able to reach the bedroom door, let alone make it down the hall and penetrate the heavy door.

  She dragged her robe from the chair and left her bed in one flowing movem
ent. She stuck her feet into the sheepskin slippers and wriggled her toes down until they were secure, and shuffled out to the front door, pulling her robe shut and tying the belt as she went.

  ‘Happy New Year!’ Jake said.

  ‘What are you doing here?!’

  She’d meant to sound pleased to see him, but her tone suggested she was anything but. Her brain was going a mile a minute. Clearly he’d still been in Whyalla last night after all. Now she thought about it, there had definitely been some caginess from David and Barbara. You don’t flit back and forth between Whyalla and Melbourne in a couple of hours without a private jet, and she was pretty sure Jake’s company didn’t have one of those. No, her friends had known exactly where Jake was.

  ‘Surprise,’ he said, cringing and shrugging. He then threw his arms out, as if to try and lighten the obvious tension. But it didn’t work; they continued to stand, both looking awkward, with an open door and Grace between them. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Jake finally said, breaking the silence. ‘I didn’t think for a second that you’d still be in bed.’ He looked her up and down.

  ‘That’s all right. I was just having an indulgent lie-in.’ She wanted to pull him towards her in a big hug, kiss him passionately on the lips, tell him she was glad to see him and that she’d really missed him. Instead, she stood looking at her feet, which were making little shuffling movements of their own accord.

  ‘If it’s a bad time, Em, just say – I can come back later. Or not,’ he added, looking crestfallen. ‘Hi Gracie,’ he said, bending down and patting the dog.

  ‘Sorry? No, don’t go. Sorry, come in,’ she said, stepping aside to let him pass. As she shut the door, Emily fought the urge to bang her head into it. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?!

  As she turned back, she fell into Jake, who had turned towards her.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, blushing at the unexpected contact. ‘Sorry!’ She grasped at the tops of his arms to regain her balance. Jake held her arms in return. They stood locked together, less than a full reach apart. Looking up, Emily noticed an odd expression on Jake’s face – as if he was inspecting every one of her creases and freckles and taking note of their size and shape.

  She looked away, feeling self-conscious. Her heart rate was suddenly dangerously high and she was beginning to sweat. She made to pull away.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he said, and gently eased her towards him. Embarrassed, Emily continued to avoid his gaze. Then his index finger was lifting her chin and his lips were brushing hers with the softness of a feather. Emily responded by opening her mouth slightly. He kissed her more firmly, and soon his tongue found hers. Her legs felt weak.

  ‘Oh Em,’ he muttered into her mouth.

  Emily groaned back in response. She was aware of the intense heat filling the tiny space between them. Jake pulled her to him. Their kissing became heavier, more urgent, and Emily found herself panting slightly. She was disappointed when, a few moments later, Jake stopped kissing her passionately, pecked her on the lips and then on the nose, and pulled her back into a tight hug.

  ‘Sorry, I got a bit carried away,’ he said into her hair.

  She wanted to say he could get as carried away as he liked; she didn’t mind. But instead she concentrated on the feel of his strong arms around her and his sweet, musky yet masculine scent, all the while willing the ache of frustration in her groin to dissipate.

  ‘I had to see you,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve missed you so much it hurts.’

  The words were almost lost in her hair. Emily felt the molten tingling in her lower stomach increase.

  ‘I know it’s too soon, and please don’t be scared, but, Em, I love you.’

  Emily stiffened slightly. Had she heard correctly? Had he really used the ‘l’ word and her name in the same sentence?

  He had. The realisation came upon her like a rolling bank of storm clouds. She clung to him harder, fighting back tears.

  ‘Oh Jake.’ Her voice was a sigh. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t scared; that it was the nicest, most perfectly timed utterance she’d ever heard. But doing so now wouldn’t mean as much – it would seem like an afterthought, an automatic response. And it wasn’t. Warmth flooded through her like a gently bubbling volcano, filling her with happiness.

  Emily was as surprised as Jake by what she did next. She pulled away, grasped him by the hand, led him into her bedroom and over to the bed.

  Jake read her cue and pushed the mass of house plans onto the floor before gently laying her onto her back. They embraced and kissed for a few minutes, their desire becoming more urgent.

  Just as Emily was willing Jake to take it to the next step and tear off her robe, he pulled away. She tried to pull him back, but he was stronger. He gave her a final kiss before rolling off her and propping himself up on one elbow. Emily groaned in frustration. She was so desperate for him she thought she might explode. You had to admire his self-restraint; she couldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have.

  ‘I don’t want us to rush things. I didn’t tell you I love you so you’d sleep with me. I just wanted you to know how I feel.’

  Emily felt a mild stab of annoyance at herself. If she were really honest, she had felt some sort of need to respond, to go one up on him. Deep down she was glad he had put a stop to proceedings, even if she did feel a little bit rejected.

  ‘God you’re gorgeous,’ he said, staring at her and slowly shaking his head. He brushed a stray hair off her face. ‘And please don’t think for a second I don’t want to, because I do, very, very much. But I just don’t want to jinx us by rushing in.’

  Emily wriggled so she was lying on top of him, slid her hands under his back and pulled herself closer. She kissed him on the lips before folding her arms across his chest and meeting his gaze.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Jake. And I think I love you too.’

  ‘Think? You think?!’ he said, smirking at her and trying to sit up. After a struggle, he managed to rise enough to peck her on the lips. ‘I’m only teasing. You’re in a different place to me – emotionally – which is why I don’t want to rush it. God you’re beautiful, Em,’ he said, putting his hands to her face and pushing back her fringe.

  Tears prickled behind Emily’s eyes. Damn it, she silently cursed as the first one sprang forth.

  ‘Oh Em, don’t tell me no one’s ever told you you’re beautiful before,’ he said, kissing away the tear.

  As she shook her head in response, the tears began to flow freely. Damn it.

  ‘Oh come here.’ He held her tight and she let herself sob for a few minutes.

  Gradually she pulled herself together and then, after turning away, wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I’ve dreamt of this and I wanted it to be perfect,’ she said with a sniff.

  ‘It is perfect. You’ve had so much to deal with, I’m not at all surprised you’re a little emotional. It’s actually quite nice to see you a little vulnerable, Em. It shows you’re human. Because you sometimes seem way too tough,’ he added more gently.

  ‘Do I? Really?’

  ‘A little, but you’ve had to be. But I’m here now; I’ll take care of you.’

  Emily felt herself flinch at hearing the last words.

  Jake obviously saw it too. ‘Not that I think for a second you need taking care of, Emily Oliphant.’ He was grinning at her. ‘Now, you get dressed and I’ll get my bag from the car. By the way, the button jar looks great there by your bed.’ He gave her a final peck on the lips and left the room.

  Emily stared after him with a blissful smile plastered across her face. Just how perfect was he? He didn’t think her silly at all for having it out on display. And yes, he was right; the small wooden chair beside her bed was the perfect spot for the button jar.

  She’d brought it in after her first sleepless night tossing and turning over what to do about contacting the Strattens. Now it was the last thing she looked at before going to sleep and the first thing she saw in the mornings.
She liked the idea that Gran watched over her while she slept. Not that she’d ever tell anyone; it sounded so lame and childish.

  Sometimes she put the large, heavy, rattling object in her lap and ran her hands over it, searching for answers like a clairvoyant might with a crystal ball or some other talisman. She could never see into the future, but she would often conjure up an appropriate saying of Gran’s, and remember the sound of the old lady’s voice.

  As she undressed and then plucked items of clothing from the pile beside the bed where she’d stepped out of them the night before, her thoughts again turned to Jake. Just thinking about him made her all gooey inside. She felt like a teenager again. Could he be her Mister Right?

  Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t we? You haven’t even seen him naked.

  God, the thought of sex (with anyone) was actually quite terrifying. What if he didn’t like her naked? What if he didn’t like sex with her? What if she didn’t like sex with him? What if they just didn’t fit together?

  Oh, for God’s sake, stop it! she silently told herself. He was a good man; they would sort through all that other stuff together.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  They moved around the kitchen as if they’d been sharing the house for years, and there seemed no need to discuss who was to do what. Jake went straight to the pantry and retrieved coffee, tea, and sugar. Emily filled the kettle and then collected mugs from the cupboard and teaspoons from the drawer. Coming together at the bench they shared a smile, acknowledging the ease of their existence.

  ‘You must have got up early,’ Emily said, leaning back on the bench and waiting for the kettle to boil. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

  ‘No, but you haven’t either by the looks of the empty sink.’

  ‘Very good, Sherlock. So, cereal, toast, or shall we celebrate with eggs?’

  ‘Eggs, definitely. But I hardly think not having sex is worth celebrating.’

  ‘I was thinking of us – the fact you’re here, the first use of the l word, silly. Anyway, restraining ourselves was your idea, remember,’ Emily said, making to hit him with a teaspoon. ‘Men,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Always a one track-mind.’