‘I don’t want to fall in love with someone for the sake of it, out of a sense of obligation. So far, my memory hasn’t come back and there’s a chance I won’t ever regain it. I was hoping it would and then things would click back into place and I wouldn’t have to worry about having to decide whether I’m prepared to get to know him again.’
Flynn inhales, giving this some thought. ‘What if you could give him a chance? Rebuild your life together?’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t bear the thought of living with a stranger in that way.’
‘You wouldn’t have to live with him, maybe you could just meet with him.’
‘I don’t feel ready to do that yet.’
‘What about a phone call?’
‘Nope.’
‘You don’t feel anything for him? At all?’
‘I wish I did. I really do. But here’s the thing—I don’t. How can I feel something for someone I don’t know?’
Flynn sucks in a breath. ‘Wow.’
‘I know … it’s terrible, isn’t it?’ I say, cringing.
‘It’s not the most pleasant situation for him … or for you,’ he says.
He picks up a tulip stem and twirls it between his fingers. ‘So, what happens if you don’t remember him? You tell him it’s over?’
‘The thing is … I think it’s already over. But yes, I’ll need to properly tell him it’s one hundred per cent over. I want to be sure of my decision before I do that, though.’
Flynn nods silently, acknowledging what I’ve told him.
‘It’s a mess, isn’t it?’
Flynn swallows, clenches his jaw, and then runs a hand over his cheeks in contemplation, before finally speaking. ‘You know what? I have the perfect antidote for this.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Come. I’ll show you.’ He makes his way out of the barn. ‘Grab your coat and lock up.’
For a second I think about saying no, that maybe this isn’t a good idea.
He looks back at me over his shoulder. ‘We don’t have all day, you know.’
A few minutes later I emerge from the cottage, sporting a beanie on my head, gloves on my hands, and cashmere coat, which is buttoned up to the top. ‘Okay, so what now?’
‘We’re going to The Wild Wombat,’ he says, his eyes lighting up.
I wrinkle my nose. ‘I don’t know where that is.’
He jumps over the stone wall and I follow. ‘Am I dressed appropriately?’ I say, leaping up onto the wall.
He laughs, extending a hand to help me down. ‘You look perfect.’
‘This is not a date,’ I say, as we approach Flynn’s car.
‘’Course not,’ he says, opening the door for me.
Taking the driver’s seat, he tears open a packet of gum with his teeth. ‘Gum?’ he says, offering me a stick.
I grin at him. ‘Thanks,’ I say, popping it into my mouth.
We make our way through Daylesford, taking a slight detour for a scenic drive past the Botanical Gardens.
‘I should know this area inside out,’ I say, mindlessly staring out the window. ‘So pretty,’ I murmur.
‘It’s not too late to get to know your way around,’ says Flynn, glancing over at me. ‘Starting with The Wild Wombat.’
‘A country pub?’ I ask, laughing.
‘Only the best pub in the entire area.’ He pulls into the car park and checks his watch. ‘Nice and early. We have all afternoon to drown your worries away.’ We exit the car and he bends his arm for me to loop mine through.
I throw him a look of disapproval.
‘Oh, come on.’
I slide my arm through his and giggle as he playfully pats my beanie. Flynn pushes open the large wooden door and we step inside the deliciously warm and cosy Wild Wombat. We take a spot on a leather lounge by the fire.
‘Beer? Cider? Wine?’ he asks, his eyes wide. He’s wearing a powder-blue jumper over a check shirt, the colour accentuating his eyes.
‘Hmm, I’ll try a cider,’ I say.
‘Apple or pear?’
‘Um, I think apple, but maybe …’ I look up at the ceiling, trying to decide, but before I can answer, Flynn is already at the counter ordering our drinks. He returns carrying three bottles.
He sets them down on the wooden table in front of us and tucks his wallet into the back of his jeans. Then he leans forward and slides two bottles in my direction. He turns them around so the labels are facing me.
‘You don’t know what you preferred before, but now you’ll know what you like today.’
I take the apple and Flynn clinks his bottle against mine. ‘To fresh starts, clean slates and new beginnings,’ he says, his gaze penetrating mine.
I take a sip, set down the bottle and then try the pear.
‘Which one wins you over?’ he asks.
‘The one I thought would. The apple.’
He beams a satisfied smile in my direction. ‘Good,’ he whispers.
‘So, what are the things you wish you could remember?’ asks Flynn after our second round of drinks.
There’s something about Flynn and the way he acts so casually, that there’s no pressure from him to remember, that makes me feel like I can talk to him about things without having to be concerned about any judgement from him. When I’m talking to Scarlett I feel so guilty, so swept away by pressure to know all there is to know about how life was before.
‘Well, I have no idea whether I had a sense of humour.’
Flynn’s eyes light up. ‘So, should we test it?’
I nod enthusiastically. I take another sip of cider, the bubbles playing on my tongue, a feeling of comfortable warmth sweeping through me.
Flynn clears his throat. ‘Okay, so there’s this guy, he walks into a bar, and he says to the lady beside him …’
He pauses, the rim of the bottle resting against his lips.
‘What does he say?’
‘Hold on.’ He stares at the ceiling as if he’s trying to recall something.
‘Hold on what?’ I ask impatiently.
‘No, I mean hold on, because I can’t think of a joke.’
I start laughing.
‘You’re not supposed to laugh. It wasn’t a joke.’
I laugh harder.
‘I don’t think that’s a reliable test for you. Totally flawed. What else are you curious about?’ A barman takes away our empty bottles. ‘Could we have another round? And a menu, please?’ asks Flynn. ‘I’m starving,’ he says, lifting his eyebrows. He leans back into the couch.
‘It’s only four-thirty.’
‘Still starving,’ he says.
The barman returns with two menus. I glance over it, not really sure what to order.
‘Are you happy in your job? I mean, I know you’re between jobs, but do you like it? Love it?’
He nods. ‘Yeah, I do. I love animals.’
‘How did you know you loved it? How did you know that being a vet was something you really wanted to do with your life?’
‘My family lived in the city, but over the summer break, we’d move out to the country. Dad would work from home, or commute back and forth, and Mum would spend time baking and gardening. She’d make us breakfast in the morning and the next time she’d see me would be close to dinnertime. Our neighbours had geese and chooks, and I hung around and learned stuff. Eventually, Dad bought me a horse, and when it got sick, that’s when I knew. I never got over losing Pepper. If I could stay out here, living in the country, I’d have horses, and cows and geese and maybe even a couple of goats.’
‘Why can’t you stay?’
He shrugs. ‘I have a practice in Melbourne, which I don’t know if I’ll go back to. Depends if things work out or not, I guess.’
He drains the remaining cider from his bottle.
I stare into the crackling fire. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether coming here was the right thing to do.’
‘You can’t go backwards, Gracie. Only forwards.’
‘At
least you have memories, though. I’ve got no memories, and no compass, and no way of knowing whether a decision is right or wrong. Heck, I don’t even know whether I’d like the duck liver parfait or the Lancashire hot pot. How can I go through life like this?’
‘You could always go with a side of kale chips and see how you like those.’ He grins.
I shake my head. ‘Or I could order both,’ I say, a smile stretching across my lips.
Flynn smiles back and nods. ‘Exactly.’ He turns his body a little closer to mine, his eyes piercing me. ‘If you could make a list of all the things you would have wanted to know about your life before, what would they be? What’s the stuff you really want to know but are too afraid to ask?’
‘I want to know all the things that make me who I am,’ I say softly. ‘I used to work as a stylist for Country Dwellings. I spent nearly three weeks in Melbourne after I was discharged from the hospital and all I could think about was that I couldn’t stand the city traffic or the suffocating apartment and I couldn’t care less about the best light to photograph a throw rug or a bowl of fruit. And like it or not, I’m going to need to find a way to pay the bills soon. There’s an apartment in Melbourne that rent needs to be paid on and I can’t expect …’ It’s hard to say his name. ‘Blake to pay my share. I’m going to need a job. But I’ve no idea what to do, and I can’t do some of the things I used to be able to do, so I don’t think I’m any use to anyone.’ Thankfully, before coming to Summerhill, Scarlett had helped me access my savings account, but I can’t keep living off those funds.
Flynn nods thoughtfully. ‘So, what are you passionate about?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What makes you feel good? What are you drawn to? What are the things in your life you couldn’t live without? What kinds of things give your life meaning?’
‘That’s the whole problem. I don’t know.’
‘Well, maybe start there. Apple or pear cider. Duck liver parfait or Lancashire hot pot. Styling for Country Dwellings or something else. Whatever it is, it might take you a bit of time to find. Or … the very thing that lights you up and completes your life could be the thing that’s right in front of you.’ He stands up and goes to order from the menu.
My fingers trace the motif of an apple blossom on the label as I watch Flynn approach the bar. The thing that’s right in front of me. That seems impossible. Not to mention totally, absolutely, and forget-the-whole-idea kind of ridiculous.
Three hours later, thanks to the cider and Flynn’s bad jokes, we determine that I do have a sense of humour.
‘So, now let me tell you about one of my most embarrassing moments,’ he says, smiling.
‘Go on,’ I say, laughing before he even starts telling me.
‘I was trying to impress a girl once, when I finally mustered up the courage to ask her out on a date. And just before I got my answer, a swarm of bees came out of nowhere. I’m talking hundreds of them. Buzzing so loud you wouldn’t have been able to hear me if I screamed.’
‘Oh no …’ I say, trying to hold back my laughter.
‘Yeah, and I’m allergic. So, I made a run for it, but the only place to go was the waterhole.’
I cup my mouth, suppressing a giggle.
‘I made a splash and got the date. She said yes.’
Now I’m laughing so hard I almost hiccup.
Flynn stops himself laughing and then looks intently at me. ‘You’re beautiful when you smile. You should do that more.’
‘Well, maybe you should tell more bad jokes,’ I reply, finishing off what’s left of my cider. I almost miss my mouth. ‘I think I’m done,’ I say, feeling gloriously warm and light-headed.
Flynn laughs. I laugh. And then my thoughts circle back to what he just said to me. You’re beautiful when you smile. And from there, my thoughts travel all the way back to Blake.
‘You know, the guy I was supposed to be getting married to. He was my childhood sweetheart. And I can’t help feeling like I might be ruining his life.’ I wave my bottle in the air, suddenly almost on the verge of tears. ‘Does that make sense?’ I know it’s the alcohol giving me free rein to pour out my heart, but I can’t help thinking I’ve crossed the line when Flynn flinches.
‘You don’t need to feel guilty. About not marrying the guy. We end up with who we’re meant to end up with.’
‘I want to believe that, but somehow I don’t know if that’s true.’ I go to take a sip of my cider and when there’s no cool gush of liquid, I illogically stare down the neck of the bottle as if it’s a telescope. ‘Maybe I do need another drink,’ I say, looking up at Flynn.
He looks past me, through me, beyond me. ‘It has to be true,’ he murmurs. And that’s when I notice the tiny flicker of doubt in his voice, and the way his perfectly defined jaw appears tighter than it did before. I flop against his chest and close my eyes.
‘Okay, let’s get you home,’ he says, reaching into his pocket for his keys. The fabric of his clothes feels warm and comforting against me. I wish we could sit like this for a while, but Flynn gently moves away and helps me up, guiding me out the door and into the cold. We reach the car, where he fastens my seatbelt for me as I giggle away to myself.
‘The other day I remembered that I’m allergic to chestnuts, you know.’
‘What?’ he says, glancing at me and back to the rear-view mirror as he reverses.
‘You saved my life. Well, not saved my life—but you saved me from an allergic reaction of epic proportions. I think meeting you was meant to be.’
I’m not sure what he replies, because by the time the car winds down the bend in the road, I’m already dozing off to sleep.
FOURTEEN
The last thing I need in my life is a complication like Flynn.
When I open the front door the following morning to find him standing there, two steaming paper cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other, I have a feeling my life will become just that. Even more complicated.
Parrot jumps on me. ‘Hey, boy,’ I say, crouching down to pat him. ‘Excuse the bed hair,’ I say groggily. My head is throbbing and I don’t have any headache tablets in the cottage.
Flynn doesn’t seem to notice my dishevelled appearance at all. He follows me into the kitchen and hands me my coffee.
‘Perfect,’ I murmur.
‘Figured you could use one of these this morning, since you didn’t turn up for our run, which you agreed to yesterday. Regular for me and an extra-strong coffee for you.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, unable to recall that part of our conversation. I cringe, thinking about the alcohol. ‘You got up to go for a run?’
‘Same time every morning. I’m starving,’ he says, opening the bag and its contents. He unpacks a carton of eggs, a parcel of bacon, a fresh loaf of bread and some spinach and mushrooms.
‘You came to cook breakfast?’
He shrugs his shoulders. ‘You okay with that?’
Am I okay with that?
‘I suppose it beats burnt toast.’ How do I feel about Flynn coming to cook me breakfast? The thrumming in my head makes it hard to concentrate on any kind of question that requires deep consideration, so I reach for my coffee and take a sip of that, instead.
Flynn fills a glass with water and then reaches into the bag for a box. He presses out two pills and extends his open palm to me. ‘Figured you might not be able to face the day without these,’ he says, winking at me. I drain the glass, washing down the tablets, and watch Flynn busying himself in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, trying to find what he needs. Okay. I’m okay with this, I decide. He grins at me from behind the stove, an egg flip in one hand. I readjust my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. He’s wearing an apron he found in one of the drawers. Red polka dots. With ruffles. Which would be completely laughable if my head didn’t hurt so much.
‘Just to make things clear. The fact that you took me out last night doesn’t mean you should be getting any ideas,’ I warn, verbalising my thoughts o
ut loud for good measure, only the words sound unconvincing to me. I wonder if Flynn gets the same impression.
‘Wouldn’t dare,’ he says, trying to hold back a smile, and now I’m sure he’s not convinced either.
‘We’re simply—’
‘Neighbours,’ he says, finishing my sentence.
‘Well, actually, I was going to say friends.’
He laughs. ‘Friends it is.’
‘Even though I find you rather irritating at times.’
‘Compliment?’
‘Just an observation,’ I say, my lips pressed against my cup.
‘That’s not the impression I got last night,’ he says, glancing at me over his shoulder.
‘Oh? I don’t remember much about last night. I hope I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have.’
‘Well, no. But you did tell me you found me insanely attractive. That was right after I tucked you into bed.’
‘I … uh … what?! I did not!’
‘You did.’ He laughs.
I cross my arms and look suspiciously at him.
‘You don’t have to believe me. You just have to ask yourself how you really feel about me.’ His lips twist into a smirk before he snatches a piece of bacon from the pan. ‘Come on. Let’s eat,’ he says, chewing on the meat.
He serves up two plates while I’m left wondering whether or not he’s telling the truth.
I swallow a forkful of scrambled eggs. ‘What?’ I ask, when I notice Flynn watching me.
‘Nothing,’ he says quietly. ‘What are your plans for today?’
‘I’m going to do something that makes me happy,’ I reply, my eyes widening. ‘As soon as I shower and let these tablets kick in, that is. You?’
‘I need to head back to Melbourne for a couple of nights. I’ve got some appointments to take care of. Actually, I was wondering whether you’d mind checking on Parrot while I’m away?’
‘Not at all. He could stay here, though, with me,’ I say, giving him a pat. I slip a piece of bacon his way, which he gulps down without chewing on it.
‘I didn’t see you do that,’ he says.
I wink at Parrot. ‘Whatever happens while he’s away stays between us,’ I whisper.
The Memories That Make Us Page 12