Fred doubted it, but she appreciated her sister trying to help.
“The point I’m making—somewhat badly,” Sandi said, “is that it seems pointless to me to pour all your energy into hating James. And even more pointless is to resent Mac for being his son. From what I’ve seen, Mac would never do anything like what his father did. And you have to ask yourself, do you truly believe the sins of the father should pass to the child? When Mum died owing all that money on her credit cards and there wasn’t enough left in her estate to pay them, the debt was wiped. That was because the rule is the child isn’t responsible for what the parent does in his or her life.”
Fred rubbed her nose. “That’s true.”
Sandi kissed her forehead. “Mum shouldn’t have burned Dad’s letters, and James shouldn’t have changed the will. Things would have been very different if either of those things hadn’t happened. But they did, and it’s too late to change them now. We can only deal with the consequences.”
“I wish I could be like you,” Fred whispered. “I wish I could just put everything behind me. But I feel as if I’m caught up in a loop. I keep thinking about those moments when I could have changed everything. If only I’d tried to phone Dad, if only I hadn’t yelled at Mum and walked out... if only...”
“That’s natural, and it’s a part of grief. But we’ve been given this incredible opportunity.” Sandi gestured at the vines in front of them, now mostly free of grapes, ready to start the process all over again. “We have the vineyard, and the restaurant, and the B&B. We’ve escaped the place that holds so many memories for us, and we can start all over again. And you...” She squeezed Fred’s shoulders. “You’ve met Mac. Who’d have thought the two of you would fall in love?’
“Love?” Fred stared at her.
“You love him, Fred. Of course you do! And he loves you. It’s written all over his face.”
Fred’s jaw dropped. “But...”
“What more could you want? He’s gorgeous, he’s incredibly honest, and you’re already married to him!” Sandi laughed. “You think Ginger and I didn’t pray that the two of you would get together? We saw a spark between you the day we arrived here. Not everyone has the opportunity to find love, and you simply can’t let it go without giving it a chance.”
Fred didn’t know what to say. Her heart raced as she looked at her sister’s pleading face. Poor Sandi, who thought she’d found the man of her dreams only to discover that he’d hidden a terrible secret from her for years. Was she right? Should Fred put aside her blame and resentment and be honest about her feelings for Mac?
What was the alternative? Was she really prepared to say to him that she would never be able to see past his father?
“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Sandi said, rising. “But don’t take too long. Opportunities are like balloons, and we have to grab them while we can or sometimes they just float away.” Giving her sister a parting smile, Sandi walked back to the B&B.
Fred watched her go, then turned her gaze back to the view. Mac had said something similar: You’re like a balloon seller in a city, who occasionally lets go of a balloon and watches it rise into the sky until he can’t see it anymore. How strange that they’d used a similar analogy.
The clouds hadn’t moved from the horizon, and the sky above her was a clear blue, the Pacific a slightly darker shade beneath it. The color of Mac’s eyes. She shivered as she thought of them staring into hers the night before while he moved inside her. She hadn’t planned for that to happen—she just hadn’t wanted him to go. But when she’d seen him, the longing had turned into a deep desire she hadn’t been able to hold back.
She sighed. Her father would have sat on this seat just a few years ago, looking out at the same view. It gave her a strange feeling in her tummy to think that.
Among the vines, the shadows formed the figure of a man. Fred’s heart rate increased, but she sat still, her gaze fixed on it. It wasn’t a man, it was just shadows. But her skin prickled all the same.
“Are you there?” she asked her father.
Silence remained, but she imagined she heard a whisper on the breeze. Yes...
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I’d contacted you. I wish I could have gotten to know you, and visited you. And I wish I’d been there when you died.”
She heard no words, and yet around her, the air changed—the temperature dropped, and she felt the touch of fingers on her cheek. Or was it just the wind?
“Mac’s right,” she said. “You made your will the way you did because you thought that would be best for me, and for Sandi and Ginger. I’m sure you hoped it would encourage us to settle down. You could never have foreseen what James would do. I know you thought he was your friend. I hope that, wherever you are, you can forgive him for what he did. I’m not sure I can, but I will try. What’s done is done.”
She took a deep breath. “And I hope you’ve made your peace with Mum, and she with you. I hope neither of you blame me for the things I’ve done. I would never have hurt either of you intentionally. I love you both from the bottom of my heart.”
It was tough, growing up, she thought. Making decisions for yourself, ones that you weren’t always sure your parents would approve of. Moving on, to a new life that didn’t involve them. And letting go, when they’d gone.
Beside her, on the seat, was a single dry red leaf, a symbol of the season. She picked it up and held it by the stem for a moment, feeling the autumn wind tugging at it, wanting to play. Then she opened her fingers and released it. It fluttered up into the air, spun around a few times, and then it was gone, spirited away by the breeze to join its brothers and sisters in the vineyard.
She watched it go, and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE HARVEST WAS NEARLY over. In the bright sunshine, Mac was walking along the vines, Scully at his heels, running his fingers over the leaves while the dog snuffled along the ground.
Stopping for a moment, he raised an arm to check his watch. The day before, he’d sent Fred a text asking her to meet him at the vineyard at two o’clock on Sunday. The digits read 1:50. Ten minutes to go. Lowering his arm again, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked on.
He hoped he’d made the right decision. He could be about to make the biggest mistake of his life. Then again, not doing what he was about to do would be an even bigger mistake. Better to regret the things you did rather than the things you hadn’t done, he kept telling himself. Hopefully, that little epithet would still ring true after two o’clock.
Fred had replied to his text with No worries and a smiley face. He hoped that was a good sign.
He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d called to tell her that James was definitely his father. She’d listened to the news quietly, and hadn’t reacted at all, finishing by telling him that she’d see him on Monday.
He’d spent that night walking along the beach, miserable and unhappy. His first thought was that he should tell her he was going to leave Blue Penguin Bay and get a job in another vineyard. Maybe down in the South Island, he thought, right down, in Otago. As far away from her as he could get.
He couldn’t continue to work alongside her without being able to touch her. He just couldn’t. His body hungered for her. He thought about her all the time, and he dreamed about her at night. She had an inner beauty that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He suspected she would have had a capacity to love him as deep as the ocean, and that would have been something truly sensational, except for the fact that the events of their past held it in check.
How could he survive if he stayed? It would be torture, and Mac was tired of torturing himself. It was time he put his ghosts to rest, accepted who he was, and moved on. He needed to find himself another turangawaewae. Some other place to stand.
The thought had physically hurt.
So he’d continued walking. It had been a windy night, and the dark waves had lashed at the shore, seemingly echoing the churning emotions inside him.
And gradually, like a pearl forming in the depths of an oyster, he’d started to formulate another plan.
A movement at the house caught his eye, and he stopped. It was Fred, leaning against the wall of the B&B, watching him. When she saw that she’d been spotted, she started walking toward him.
Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he watched her approach.
She walked slowly, her long green skirt blowing about her legs. She wore a russet-colored top and her chestnut hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. She looked like Autumn herself, bringing change, bringing an end to summer.
Jesus, he loved this woman. Was that possible in so short a time? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. What did it matter if it was possible or right? His feelings were far too strong to be anything but love.
Harry, he begged her father, if you’re watching, give us your blessing. Make this go well.
Fred approached and stopped a few feet in front of him. Her hazel eyes studied him, wisps of hair blowing across her forehead.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” His throat felt scratchy, his voice little more than a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How have you been?”
“Fine, thanks.” Polite as strangers.
Heart pounding, he glanced out to sea. Boats were sailing toward the horizon, heading out to bring in the day’s catch. The sun was so bright it hurt his eyes.
He looked back at Fred. Her cheeks were a little flushed, and her lips curved up a tiny bit at the corners. Did she have any idea why he’d asked to meet her today?
“I have something for you,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened, and her smile faded. “Oh,” she whispered. “Is it... a going away gift?”
So she’d guessed what had been going through his mind, that he felt he couldn’t stay if they weren’t together. She looked truly miserable. His heart leapt. Not at her misery, but at what it implied.
“No.” He withdrew his hand from his pocket, and showed her the velvet box, about four inches square. Without saying anything else, he opened it and showed her the contents.
Two gold wedding rings sat on the black velvet, side by side, one slightly bigger than the other. They glinted in the autumn sunlight.
“Marry me,” he said.
Her jaw dropped. “Huh?”
He blew out a breath. He was going to have to do this the hard way.
Dropping to one knee, he took her hand. “Marry me again, Winifred Cartwright. Properly, this time. With rings, and vows, and a white wedding dress. Marry me, and make me the happiest man on earth.”
He stared up at her. He felt a little queasy as she continued to stare at him as if he’d asked her to move to Venus. Harry, he begged in his mind. Please...
“Oh my God,” she said. “Mac, get up.”
His throat tightened, and he rose awkwardly to his feet. He’d fucked up. He’d left it too long. She didn’t want him to stay, and...
“Oh my God,” she said again, and to his surprise and utter shock, she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh Mac.”
He inhaled deeply, stunned at the feel of her soft body against his, at the press of her lips repeatedly against his mouth. “Is that a yes?”
“YES, YES, YES!” FRED laughed and kissed him again. She felt so happy it was like Christmas Day and her birthday all rolled into one. “I can’t believe it—I thought you were about to tell me you were leaving.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was about to beg you not to go.”
“Really?” He tightened his arms around her until she thought her bones might snap, but she didn’t complain. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, and felt him press his lips to her hair. “I did think about it,” he murmured. “I knew I couldn’t stay here and be with you all day every day unless we were together. But I don’t want to leave. I love Blue Penguin Bay, and I love you, Winifred Cartwright, with all my heart. I’ve never felt this way about another woman.”
“And I’ve never felt like this about a man.”
He moved back a little, cupped her face with his large hands, and looked into her eyes. “I meant it, about getting married properly. What we did was soulless, and I want to do it properly. I want to write my own vows, and promise to love you forever. To love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Me, too. I love you, Mac. I think I fell in love with you the moment I got out of the car and saw you standing there.”
He brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “And the fact that I’m James’s son... It’s not a problem?”
She shook her head. “I had a long talk with Sandi, and she made me see that I need to put aside my blame and guilt. What’s the point in holding on to it? It’s like acid or poison—all it does is eat away at you. I’ve been so caught in the past that it’s been impossible for me to look forward. Well, I’m not going to look back anymore. I’m going to keep my eyes front all the time, and concentrate on the future, not on the things I can’t do anything about.”
“There’s nothing wrong with remembering the past,” he said. “Or with feeling sad because of the way things turned out, or that we’ve lost those we love. But you’re right that we have to think about ourselves. The way we feel about each other—it would be a crime if we didn’t make the most of this.”
Her heart swelled. “You really want to stay with me? Here, at the bay?”
“Right here. We have all the time in the world to work together on the vineyard and make it award-winning again. You wait, Fred, it’s going to be fantastic here. With the restaurant and the B&B, and all the enthusiasm and energy that you girls have brought, they’ll be talking about Blue Penguin Bay from Cape Reinga to Dunedin.”
She slid her arms around his waist, and he wrapped his around her. It was a cool day, the breeze a trifle cold, but within his arms she felt protected from the worst of it, safe against the world.
“I hope my father is happy, wherever he is,” she said.
“I asked for his blessing,” Mac replied, surprising her. “I’m sure that if he hadn’t approved of us getting together, he would have stopped us somehow. Anyway, why wouldn’t he approve, Fred? He knows how we feel about each other. This is exactly what he wanted—you happily married, living at the bay, working on his vineyard.”
“I suppose. I wish he was here with us so I could say thank you, and tell him I love him.”
“He’s here, sweetheart. I’m convinced of it. And your mother too. Our loved ones don’t leave us.”
He’d told her something similar on one of their early walks around the vineyard. Harry’s still here, somewhere, watching you now. Before she met Mac, she’d thought of a person’s soul as being tied to wherever their body was buried or their ashes scattered. Leaving the U.K. had been difficult when she’d thought that she’d left her mother behind. But Mac made her feel as if her parents were with her, at rest, content and happy now without the pressures of life that weighed a person down so badly.
She raised onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she said.
He slid his hands onto her butt, tightened his fingers on the muscles there, and lifted her a little, molding her to him while he kissed her properly with his tongue and lips and a graze of his teeth, until she sighed and melted in his arms.
“I think we should retire to the house,” he murmured, moving his hips to illustrate his train of thought, in case she hadn’t already guessed.
“It’s the middle of the day,” she said with a laugh, heart soaring.
“Sun’s over the yardarm somewhere in the world. Come on. I fancy some afternoon delight.”
Fred squealed as he bent and picked her up in his arms, then kissed him as he began to walk up to the house. “You won’t be able to carry me all the way.”
“Maybe not,” he said with a groan, and lowered her
down again. He grabbed her hand. “I’ll drag you instead.” And he pulled her along as he began to jog.
Laughing, Fred ran alongside him, following the line of vines back up to the house, Scully dancing at their feet.
At one point, she thought she saw the shadow of a man in the leaves, watching them. But this time, it didn’t scare her, and she just smiled.
Blue Penguin Bay
Book 2: As Beautiful as the Bay
Excerpt
“DO YOU KNOW THE MUFFIN man?” asked Ellie, the new young waitress.
Ginger wiped down the last stainless-steel counter and took the cloth over to the sink. “The muffin man? Who lives down Drury Lane?”
“Ha ha.” Ellie stuck her tongue out and clipped the dishwasher shut. “You know who I mean. The sexy baker.”
Ginger gave her an amused look as she rinsed the cloth. “You mean Sam Pankhurst?”
“He’s the sexy one, right?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d go that far. He’s all right, I guess, if you like scruffy and grumpy and grouchy. And other dwarves.”
Ellie looked puzzled. “Are we talking about the same guy? Runs the All or Muffin bakery?”
“Yeah. Are you going to make a joke about his buns now?”
“Quite possibly,” Ellie said, unfazed. “He has a great bum.”
“Ellie!”
The young woman laughed. “Well he has! Really nice and...” She held up her hands, fingers curved, and made a movement as if she were squeezing something firm and squidgy.
“Jesus.” Ginger put the cloth into the washing box and cast a last glance around the room. “Okay, I think we’re done for the day.”
It was five p.m. on Sunday, and Ginger could have slept for a fortnight. Three months of working ten-hour days, seven days a week, was starting to take its toll. Air New Zealand would have made her pay an extra luggage allowance for the bags under her eyes.
“I go in the bakery every morning for a muffin,” Ellie grumbled, “but he’s always out the back, working. So... I was thinking... maybe you’d put in a good word for me?” She turned hopeful eyes to Ginger.
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