They settled into an easy conversation, and Leah asked the kids a lot of questions. She listened intently to their answers like it really mattered what they had to say. Isabelle saw what she was trying to do – putting them at ease, but at the same time trying to figure out what their story was.
She regarded Leah carefully and made a snap decision. If they were going to be friends, it was easier to get things out in the open right from the beginning.
‘What do you want to know?’
Leah’s face flushed pink. ‘Sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m prying.’
‘You’re wearing a wedding ring,’ Leah said finally. A statement, not a question.
Isabelle stared down at the two rings on her left and twisted them into place. ‘My husband had a heart attack in January,’ she said softly. Her hand went automatically to Dan’s own wedding ring that she wore on a chain around her neck and tears formed quickly. She brushed them away.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She touched Isabelle’s arm. ‘How the hell are you still standing?’
‘Some days I’m not, but I have no choice. I have to get out of bed for the kids.’ In the days after Dan’s death it was like she had dementia. She would forget, then remember, then relive his death all over again. Each time she remembered he wasn’t coming home, the force of the shock hit her again like a slap in the face. Once the shock wore off, the exhaustion set in.
Leah glanced over at Fletcher and Mietta. Something on the television had captured their attention but she lowered her voice anyway. ‘How are they coping?’
‘They miss Dan so much. They don’t understand – can’t understand – why he died. You should have seen the sadness in their eyes. It’s fading now, thankfully.’
‘Poor kids.’
‘They wear their grief so differently. Some days Mietta is fine, and just gets on with life, like it never happened. Other days she wakes pale and withdrawn, and doesn’t want to go to school. She tells me her tummy hurts, but when I take her to the doctor, they tell me its anxiety. So I waver. Do I push her to go to school? Or do I acknowledge her pain and her need to take time to heal? I usually just let her stay at home and wonder if I’m a bad mother. Then on other days, she talks constantly about Dan in the past tense – “Daddy did this” or “Daddy said that” – and I think she’s moved on.’
‘And Fletcher? He looks like he’s struggling.’
Isabelle sighed. ‘He was withdrawn and silent for weeks after Dan’s death. He never talked about it. The purple shadows under his eyes were the only sign he was in grief. He was stoic during the day, refusing to mention his dad, but at night when the lights went out, his questions came in a rush. “Why did Dad have to die?” “Why did he have a heart attack?”’
And the question which haunted Isabelle each and every day: “Why couldn’t you save him?”
‘I don’t think Fletcher has forgiven me for not saving him,’ Isabelle said.
Leah frowned. ‘Why would he have expected that?’
‘He was the one who pulled Dan from the water.’
‘How awful for him.’ Leah’s eyes widened more than her mouth.
‘I was there too.’
‘Oh, Isabelle.’ Leah’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.
‘I couldn’t explain it to your sister, but that’s why I can’t be a nurse anymore. I’m supposed to be able to save people’s lives. I know CPR and basic life support. And I failed.’
Isabelle raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from the back of her neck. It was months since she last had a panic attack but she recognised the signs. She willed herself to breathe slowly and evenly until the moment passed.
Leah touched her on the arm, allowing her hand to rest there. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her words were heartfelt.
Isabelle smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘Can I ask you a favour?’
Leah nodded. ‘Anything.’
‘If I win this competition, I don’t want people to know what happened to Dan. I’d appreciate if this stayed between us. Until I get to know people, I don’t want them to know me as the grieving widow.’
‘Of course. Absolutely. You have my word.’
They smiled at one other and the tension uncoiled itself from around Isabelle’s throat. It was good to share a moment with a new friend. Since Dan’s accident, a lot of her wider circle of girlfriends had dropped off. They simply couldn’t understand her grief. Her closest friends hung around, but by the six-week mark their lives had moved on, and Isabelle wondered if they expected hers should be moving on too. Instead, her healing had come in layers – each day, like today, bringing new challenges.
‘When I hit the six months mark I discovered it was much harder than I expected. I missed Dan more than ever. Missed our deep conversations. Missed talking about our dreams, our hopes, and our plans for the future. Now, because of circumstances beyond my control, I’m uprooting our lives and starting again. It’s daunting and I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing.’
‘You must have been young when you had Fletcher.’
Relief washed over Isabelle at the change of subject. ‘I was eighteen. I fell pregnant after our final exams.’
‘How did that go down with your folks?’
Isabelle grimaced. ‘Not well. But that’s another story.’
‘Hold that story.’ Something, or someone, had caught Leah’s attention.
Isabelle turned in her seat to follow Leah’s gaze and a jolt of something went through her. Are you serious? Is he following me? She quickly turned back to her food, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring but it was too late, he was making a beeline for their table. What commotion was he going to cause this time? She sensed him the moment he stood beside their table. She went to take a sip of her drink and noticed her hand shaking.
‘G’day, Leah. Hello Isabelle. Kids.’
Everyone looked up at him in silence, even Leah.
‘I think we should start over,’ he said softly, eyes only for Isabelle. ‘Mind if I join you?’ He pulled out an empty chair beside her without waiting for a response.
Eyeing him warily, Isabelle nodded and swallowed. He sat, but she still felt dwarfed beside him. She had been too angry earlier to have a really good look at him, so she regarded him now, hoping her mouth wasn’t hanging open. He was undeniably a very attractive man. He’d changed out of his police uniform – maybe in an attempt to look less intimidating – and into a black T-shirt, which pulled taut over his broad chest and shoulder muscles. He obviously worked out. A lot. Out of uniform, he appeared nothing like a cop. If anything, he looked more suited to the rugby field. Isabelle tried not to stare, but it was impossible.
When he faced her, Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat. Never – not once – in her entire relationship with Dan had she noticed another man, let alone gone breathless in the presence of one. Her body’s response shocked her. A flutter began low in her belly and she shifted in her seat, annoyed at the way her body was betraying her. Clearly her sex drive hadn’t died along with Dan, but she wasn’t prepared for this new feeling. She twisted the rings on her finger and reminded herself she was still furious with him.
He extended his hand. ‘Let’s start again. I’m Matthew Robertson. Call me Matt.’
The instant their hands met, her anger dissolved like ice in boiling water.
‘Isabelle Cassidy.’ She searched and found her voice, amazed it came out sounding so normal.
‘I know.’
Matt smiled – a crooked smile, which showed off straight white teeth framed by a dark, neatly trimmed beard. Isabelle dragged her gaze away from his lips and looked into his eyes. Mietta was right. He really did have nice eyes.
He turned to Fletcher. ‘G’day.’
Fletcher smiled politely and returned the greeting with a faint ‘hi’.
‘And who’s this little princess?’
Mietta giggled. ‘I’m Mietta. My daddy says I’m his little princess.’
‘I
can see why your daddy would say that,’ he said softly.
Mietta beamed. Traitor.
He gave Isabelle his full attention. ‘I want to apologise for the way I handled things with Fletcher – barging in on the interview and everything. I’m sorry.’ He looked from Isabelle to Fletcher. ‘I’m sorry, buddy. I misjudged you.’
Fletcher squirmed in his seat but remained quiet.
‘You did the right thing,’ Isabelle said. ‘Fletcher needed to learn his lesson, and I’m sure he has.’
‘But the interview? You didn’t get to finish,’ he said, his brow deeply furrowed.
‘It’s okay. Leah sorted out another time with her sister. We’re going back for a second interview shortly.’ Isabelle glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Actually, in half an hour. We should eat a little quicker.’
‘You’ve got plenty of time,’ Leah assured her.
Matthew looked relieved. ‘I’m glad. I thought I’d stuffed up the whole thing for you.’
Isabelle shrugged. ‘No need to keep apologising. Instead, you could say a prayer they won’t think badly of Fletcher when I go back in there.’
Leah placed her hand on Isabelle’s arm. ‘It’s fine. Rachel will understand, I promise.’
Chapter 9
Twenty minutes later Isabelle walked back through the doors of the church hall, fighting the urge to run in the opposite direction. She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them. It was hard to look everyone in the eye a second time around.
‘Hi,’ she said softly.
‘Hello.’ Alison smiled. ‘Let’s pretend we’re meeting for the first time. I’m Alison Monahan. It’s lovely to meet you.’
Jack reached out his hand. ‘G’day love. I’m Jack O’Rourke. This here is Rachel King. Come and take a seat and tell us why you want to move to Stony Creek and become part of our community.’
Isabelle sat carefully on the edge of the wooden chair. The air conditioner clanked in the background. She flicked a grateful smile from Alison to Jack to Rachel.
‘My name is Isabelle Cassidy. I have two children. Fletcher is twelve and Mietta is six. We’re from Torquay, in Victoria.’ Taking a deep breath, she continued, her voice wavering slightly. ‘We want to be part of the Peppercorn Project because I lost my husband earlier this year. He had a heart attack. He didn’t have any life insurance, and because we have no savings, I can’t afford our mortgage. I’d love to get back on my feet, and I don’t just mean financially. This seemed like an incredible opportunity. Not only do we get reduced rent, we get the chance to become part of a real community. A community where no one knows us. We’re tired of everyone looking at us and feeling sorry for us all the time.’
She let out a long breath. It wasn’t the most eloquent of speeches, but it was the best she could do. Leather soles scraped once across the wooden floor. Alison was the first to speak.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Alison said.
‘It must be hard for you,’ Rachel added.
‘Yes, it is, but each day gets a little easier,’ Isabelle replied.
That wasn’t true – not by a long shot – but it was what people wanted to hear. Isabelle had discovered people didn’t understand when she tried to explain the face-tingling numbness which lasted for weeks after Dan’s death. They didn’t understand how she had barely slept for nearly three months. They didn’t understand about the heart-racing anxiety attacks she continued to have. Or how, now, nine months later, there were still some days it was hard to get out of bed and function like a normal person. No one seemed to understand any of it.
‘It sounds to me like you could use our help,’ Jack said.
Everything blurred in front of Isabelle as hot tears welled in her eyes. She nodded.
‘Tell us about your nursing experience,’ Rachel said.
Isabelle dabbed at her wet lashes with a tissue. This was where they had gotten to in the interview before Matt had dragged Fletcher inside.
‘I’m not currently working,’ Isabelle said.
‘Why?’ Rachel asked.
‘I’ve let my registration lapse. I didn’t have the money to pay for it since I’m not working, and I figure I don’t need it right now.’
‘It is difficult to re-register?’ Rachel asked.
‘No, but I’m not sure if I’m cut out for nursing anymore,’ Isabelle said.
‘Why?’ Rachel asked, frowning.
Isabelle sucked in a deep breath. That was another thing no one seemed to understand. ‘I don’t think I have what it takes. It’s a stressful job and I—’
Jack interjected. ‘I’m sure it’s still too early for you to work after your husband’s death.’
Isabelle shot him a grateful smile.
‘Could you nurse again if you wanted to?’ Rachel asked. What was her problem? She was worse than the proverbial dog with a bone.
‘I think Isabelle is saying she needs time before getting back on the horse,’ Jack clarified.
Isabelle wanted to hug the grandfatherly figure. And Alison too. They understood.
‘I lost my wife a couple of years back,’ he said softly. ‘Cancer. I know it takes a while before you feel like you can walk without your head surrounded in a fog. My advice is take all the time you need. That’s what this project is all about. To help people like you.’
Again, the tears threatened. ‘Thank you, Jack.’
The interview continued for another ten minutes. Isabelle answered their questions as well as she could, hoping she met with their approval. She had given it her best shot. Now all she could do was wait. She said a quick prayer they would see through her pain and grief and grasp how much she needed them to say yes. There was no plan B, no other option, no other choice. She needed to win.
Rachel checked her watch, shuffled the papers on her clipboard and stood. The interview was over.
‘Could I say one last thing?’ Isabelle asked, pushing back her own chair and standing.
‘Of course.’
‘If I’m chosen for a Peppercorn lease, I’d rather people didn’t know what happened to Dan. When I’m ready, I’ll tell those I trust, but I don’t want to be known as ‘the widow’.’
‘This will stay between us,’ Jack assured her. ‘You have our word.’
He looked to the others for confirmation and they nodded their heads.
‘Thank you,’ Isabelle said, slinging her bag across one shoulder. ‘And I’m sorry about what happened earlier with—’
‘Thank you, Isabelle,’ Alison interrupted with a wide smile. ‘We’ll announce the winners tomorrow night at the pub. I look forward to seeing you and your children there.’
Heat flooded Isabelle’s face yet again. She licked her dry lips. ‘I’m not actually staying Sunday night. I could only afford two nights’ accommodation, so we’re going to head back to Torquay tomorrow morning. It’s a long drive. I figured you’d contact the winners by phone.’
Alison frowned. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Caravan Park.’
Alison rolled her eyes. She pulled a pen from her clipboard and wrote a number on the bottom of Isabelle’s application form. Then she tore off a corner off the paper and handed it across the table. ‘Call this number. My sister Fran and her husband Jim live not far out of town on a huge property. The last of their kids moved out recently and Fran’s at a loose end. They have loads of spare rooms and the house is empty. She’d enjoy the company, and I reckon your kids would enjoy a taste of real Aussie farm life.’
Isabelle took the paper. The numbers blurred as the tears fell in earnest. She folded it carefully and placed it in her handbag. The offer was lovely but she couldn’t accept hospitality from a stranger.
‘Call her,’ Alison insisted. ‘You’ll be able to stay tonight and tomorrow night, or longer if you want. The caravan park isn’t suitable for your family.’
‘But my booking … I’ve already paid for another night.’
‘I know Pat Wallace,’ Jack interrupted. ‘I’ll g
et it sorted. You make sure you call Fran and Jim. They’re good people, and I know they’d love you to stay.’
Clearly, it was out of her hands.
‘Thank you for everything,’ Isabelle said, meaning every word. It didn’t matter if she didn’t win – she felt more valued and loved than she had in months because of the kindness of these people.
Alison led her to the door. ‘If you don’t call my sister, I’ll get her to call you and drag you out to the farm. We’ll see you at the pub tomorrow night.’
Isabelle stopped, surprising herself when she turned and wrapped her arms around Alison. She was further surprised when Alison returned the hug, pulling her tight and whispering in her ear, ‘You’ve got my vote, sweetie.’
*
‘Well, she’s got my vote, all right,’ Joe told Matt later that day at the pub.
Matt sat in his usual spot at the end of the long bar, closest to the entrance. ‘Why’s that?’ he asked.
Joe shrugged. ‘There’s something about her. She needs us, that’s obvious, but I reckon we also need her. I can’t explain it, but I tell ya what, I’ll be on the phone to Rachel tonight to give her my opinion.
‘And what opinion is that, Joe?’
Matt spun on his stool to see Rachel approaching the bar.
Joe laughed. ‘Are your ears burning? I was just talkin’ about you.’
‘So I heard!’
‘Long day?’ Matt asked.
‘Yep!’ Rachel plonked her clipboard on the bar and swung herself awkwardly onto the high stool beside Matt. ‘And I need a drink, please, Joe.’
‘What will you have, love?’
‘The usual, thanks. So, Joe, what’s your opinion?’ Rachel asked. She cocked her head at Matt and scowled. ‘I already know what he thinks.’
‘I reckon you should say yes to Isabelle Cassidy and her kids.’
‘Why?’
‘Dunno exactly. That’s what I was sayin’ to Matt when you walked in. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about her. I think we need her in our town.’ He wiped his hands on the towel slung over one shoulder. ‘I reckon she’d be a good fit for us.’
The Peppercorn Project Page 7