Cottage on Oceanview Lane

by Lilly Mirren

  "Well, I'm nothing if not professional." He grinned, mimicking her words from earlier.

  She shook her head. "I'm trying to be serious here."

  He crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, let's be serious. I hear you, you're not ready. That's okay with me. I'm not in any hurry. When you're ready, you let me know. As far as being professional - I'm renovating your house, we don't have an ongoing working relationship, and it's Emerald Cove, not the Hague. I think it'll be okay."

  "You make it sound so easy."

  He shrugged. "It might not be easy, but it's pretty simple. If we like each other, we should see where this thing might go."

  "That doesn't ever scare you?" she asked.

  "Not really."

  "Even after everything with your wife?" Sarah bit down on her tongue. What was she thinking bringing that up? It was insensitive. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

  "No, it's fine. If I didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't have told you. I don't have anything to hide, Sarah. I'm not afraid of starting something with you because I know you, I care about you, I know you care about me, and I think we might share something special. If we can only give ourselves a chance."

  He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers, then lifted it to his lips to kiss her softly.

  "Mick…" she objected but didn't pull away.

  He smiled, released her hand. "Take your time. I'll be here."

  Then he turned and headed for the path that would take them back to the cottage. Sarah stood watching him, her heart hammering in her chest, sweat trickling down her back and a frown on her face. He was exasperating. She'd set up all the arguments in her head before they spoke. She'd seen it all so clearly. And yet he'd completely confused the matter with his calm, matter-of-fact response. Her lips pursed. How utterly irritating.

  Chapter 31

  Meg

  Four days later, Meg sat in the same spot on the couch, a piece of paper laid out on the coffee table, a pen poised in one hand. She chewed on her lip, staring blankly ahead of her. What should she write? What to say to a husband who'd abandoned her before they'd even had a chance to experience marriage?

  He'd asked her not to call, and so far, she'd respected his wishes. She knew him well enough to understand that pushing him now, when he'd made up his mind, wouldn't get her anywhere. He needed time, and she'd give it to him. But how much time was too much?

  She pressed the pen to the paper and wrote an opening line. Then, with a frown, she crossed it out, crumpled up the sheet of paper and threw it into the small wire wastepaper basket she'd set on the floor beside her. A dozen paper balls already rested in the bottom of the basket.

  A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts. As she pulled another sheet of paper from her stationery kit, she called out, "Come in!"

  Vicky opened the door and peered inside. "So now you're inviting strangers into your unlocked home without checking who's out here?"

  Meg grimaced. "No one locks their doors in the Cove, you know that. And besides, as miserable as I am, I'd welcome the company of a thief or serial killer. Just so long as they put me out of my misery quickly."

  Vicky came in and sat on the couch beside Meg, hugging her with one arm. "Oh, come on, it's not so bad. You've still got your health."

  Meg glared at her. "Really? Thanks, that's so comforting."

  Vicky chuckled. "Come on, lighten up, it was a joke. It's exactly the kind of thing my grandmother used to say to me when I was a kid and the boy I liked didn't know I existed."

  Meg grunted. "Well, the boy I love doesn't seem to know I exist anymore, so I guess it fits."

  "Yes, he does, he's going through something - the pain is too much for him right now. I know him pretty well, don't forget, and I can see things from a different perspective to you. He always retreats when things are tough. Don't you remember during our final exams in year twelve, no one saw him for a month? And when his uncle died, he disappeared for ages, didn't surface again until he'd dealt with the grief? He'll work through this, I'm sure of it."

  "I wish I could be so certain," Meg grumbled. "Did you bring the wine?"

  Vicky tugged a bottle of chardonnay from her oversized purse. "Voila! And I brought a DVD… Can you believe it? And no, I don't have a time machine, just have access to my parents' basement. It's like traveling back in time when you walk down the staircase, let me tell you." She giggled. "So, in honour of broken hearts, I borrowed their copy of The Holiday."

  "A romance? No, I can't handle a romance right now," Meg complained.

  "But you love Kate Winslet."

  "Yes…I do. I love Kate Winslet."

  "So, come on," Vicky urged, bumping her shoulder against Meg's. "Let's watch Kate Winslet falling in love. We can order a pizza and drink chardonnay. It'll be great - just what the doctor ordered."

  "Fine. And thank you. I really appreciate you coming over here. I know you could be doing something far more interesting with your evening than sitting here and cheering me up." Meg leaned her head on Vicky's shoulder, grateful she had such a good friend. She didn't have any family support, so her friendships were all she had now that Brad had abandoned her. He'd been her family; now he was gone. And he hadn't thought twice about how that might affect her.

  She'd called her mother the day after Brad left to tell her what was going on, and Mum had basically accused her of not keeping herself pretty enough, told her that she needed to put in more of an effort, wear makeup, work out daily and so on, if she wanted to keep a man in her life. Meg had hung up in disgust, then cried into a tub of ice cream for an hour afterwards.

  Vicky stroked her hair. "It's going to be okay. And I assure you, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be right now. Okay, maybe on a date with Ryan Reynolds. But since he's married, I'll have to settle for spending the evening with my very best friend."

  Meg couldn't help laughing, even as tears blurred her vision. "Ryan Reynolds? Really? Isn't he a little old for you?"

  "Never. Blasphemer." She giggled. "I'll order a pizza, and you can finish writing your sappy journal entry or whatever it is you're struggling over." She glanced at the wastepaper basket. "And wasting reams of paper on."

  Meg swallowed. "I'm writing a letter to Brad."

  "Wow, people still do that?"

  Meg crossed her eyes at Vicky. "Shut up."

  Vicky laughed. "Sorry, I didn't even realise you could do that. You have heard of email, right? Plus, they have these nifty new things we call telephones."

  Meg crossed her legs and leaned back on the couch. "He asked me not to call him."

  "Oh wow, I'm sorry. That's rough." Vicky's lips pursed.

  "Yeah, it's so hard. All I want to do is call him and talk to him. Probably yell at him a little…" She laughed. "Maybe he's right after all. We probably both need a little time to cool off."

  Vicky shrugged. "So a letter…huh?"

  "Yeah, only I have no idea what to write. I want to be loving and patient, but all I can think to write is how angry with him I am right now." She sighed. "So, that's why I keep starting over."

  Vicky patted Meg's leg. "Okay, well, I'll leave you to do that while I order the food and get the DVD ready."

  "Thanks."

  Meg reached for the pen and began to write as Vicky retreated to the kitchen to call the only pizza place in town that delivered.

  She scrawled a few words, leaned back to think, then continued writing. She wanted him to know she loved him, and if he thought that a divorce or annulment was best, she wouldn't stand in his way, although she didn't agree it was best. He had to know she didn't have any desire to live her life with someone else. Regardless of what'd happened, he was still her husband and they could build a wonderful life together if he'd only try. Then she signed her name, with love and a few kisses, and folded the paper, setting it on the coffee table to mail the next day. Maybe he wouldn't read it. He might tear it up, and it could make things worse between them. All she knew was that she
had to send it; what happened next was up to him.

  Chapter 32

  Meg

  It'd been over a month - more like six weeks, actually - since Brad left. Was that enough time to decide on their future?

  Meg studied the symmetrical patterns on the wallpaper at the solicitor's office in Brisbane. She'd driven the two hours north for an appointment with a solicitor she'd found online who seemed to have good reviews. Although, how you could get five stars for taking a marriage apart she couldn't understand.

  She planned to ask some questions, telling herself she didn't have to commit to anything yet. It was important that she found out what their options were. Could they even get an annulment?

  She'd sent the letter to Brad over a month ago and heard back from him. He hadn't written about anything of substance, just chatter really, about his life in Brisbane, the appointments, the physical therapy, his routine and newly made friends.

  No matter how many questions she asked, he never responded with an explanation for what he'd done, what he was doing to destroy their marriage. Fury churned in her gut. How could he abandon her this way, after everything they'd been through together? And to not call her to talk it through… It wasn't fair.

  She hadn't broken his rules, the boundaries he'd set. Well, not really. She'd called the house and spoken to his mother a couple of times, just to make sure he was okay. Sharon said he was doing fine, improving with his strength training, even learning to swim on his own in their pool. Then, Meg had hung up the phone and cried herself to sleep on her side of their bed, her back to the empty space where Brad should've been.

  "Meg Taylor?" asked a woman dressed in a pinstripe suit, with black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  Meg stood, fixing the purse strap into place on her shoulder. "Yes?"

  "Come with me, please."

  She followed the woman into an office decorated with dark timber furniture, ice blue draperies and dozens of framed certificates and photographs lining the walls.

  The woman faced her, holding out a hand to shake Meg's. "I'm Victoria Sanders, one of the solicitors here. Pleased to meet you, won't you take a seat?"

  "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." Meg sat in a chair that faced an imposing hardwood desk.

  Victoria sat behind it, leaned on her elbows. "So, tell me a bit about your situation."

  Meg inhaled a sharp breath. "I need to know whether or not my husband and I can get an annulment."

  She explained the situation, feeling a lump grow in her throat, larger with every minute that passed. She couldn't believe where she was. They'd been married a few days; for her, it was a dream come true. She'd never bought into the Disney princess mirage. To her, happy endings only happened on the screen. She'd seen with her own two eyes how relationships involved yelling, fighting, throwing things, and someone walking out on someone else. When Brad came along, she'd been overwhelmed by his kindness, gentle nature and thoughtfulness. She hadn't known men like him could exist, let alone that someone as wonderful as him could love her. Perhaps, after all, the fairy tale could become reality. She’d been so wrong.

  When the accident happened, everything since had been a nightmare.

  "I can definitely help you with that," Victoria said, once Meg had finished telling her story. "I'll get the paperwork started for the annulment right away, if you like. I don't think you'll have any trouble convincing a magistrate to approve it."

  Meg's breath caught in her throat. Could it really be that easy to end a marriage?

  "Okay, thanks."

  She left the office in a haze. Her body was numb, and she stared straight ahead, arms wrapped around herself in a kind of hug. There was a small, neatly manicured park in front of the office building. She slumped onto a park bench and stared out at the cityscape ahead of her. The skyline was dotted with skyscrapers. Some reaching to the clouds, all shiny silver and tinted glass windows, others short and squat with retro concrete gargoyles leering from parapets.

  A noisy miner flitted about in the branches of a lilly pilly bush behind the bench, chattering as if to scold her.

  "No need for you to scold," she muttered. "I'm well aware of how pathetic I am."

  Her stomach growled with hunger. She hadn't eaten a thing all day and had barely had a gulp of water. Still, even with the hunger pangs, she couldn't bring herself to eat. Her heart hurt too much. Was this how their relationship would end, in an expensively decorated office in the city surrounded by ringing telephones, plaid wallpaper and strangers?

  She tugged Brad's last letter to her from a pocket and laid it on her lap, smoothing out the wrinkles with the palm of her hand.

  I don't know if I can make it across the pool, but Tim says we're going to try tomorrow. Wish me luck.

  He could write to her about therapy sessions but not his feelings. He was only about a fifteen-minute drive away from where she sat. She wondered what he was doing.

  I enjoy reading your letters. They give me something to look forward to.

  Her hands trembled where they held the edges of the paper, making the letters blur on the page. Was it an opening? An admission that should give her some hope? She couldn't say. And what did she hope for now anyway? What kind of life would it be to share a home with a man so angry, so full of hatred that he couldn't offer her a kind word?

  I'm sorry for how everything has turned out. Perhaps after the annulment, we can be friends.

  The last paragraph sucked up any hope she'd had and crushed it. Friends? A tear trickled down her cheek.

  It was time for her to move on with her life and let Brad Taylor go once and for all. After all, happy endings weren't real life. She'd forgotten that for a time, but now she knew it to be true. She stood with a sigh, stuffed the letter back in her pocket and hunched her shoulders. Then strode towards the parking lot.

  She had to get back to the Cove; her boss had let her have the morning off, but she had a long afternoon shift ahead of her, and she'd have to drive quick to get back in time. There wasn't anyone else she could rely on in this life but herself. Her own two hands were the only ones that'd rescue her, provide and protect. She'd remember that from now on.

  Chapter 33

  Cindy

  The chairs were stacked upside down on each round table. The floor shone in places where the water from the mop had not yet dried. The silver benches in the kitchen gleamed. It was time to go home.

  Cindy waved goodbye to the staff, then pulled the cafe door shut behind her. With a loud sigh, she trudged towards her car, slid into it and leaned her head back on the head rest.

  She was tired.

  No, tired didn't do it justice. She was exhausted.

  Ever since she'd uncovered the desolate state Andrew had left her finances in, she had laid off most of the staff at the cafe and was doing almost everything herself. She hadn't wanted to complain to anyone about it, hadn't even told Sarah what she'd done. She thought if she cut costs here and there, the cafe would recover, she'd pay back the debts Andrew had left behind, and life could go back to some semblance of normal.

  But it wasn't working.

  At least, that was what Sarah had told her over a cup of coffee earlier that day.

  Occupied with her own work commitments, Sarah hadn't had time to spend at the cafe lately, and Cindy was too busy running the place and filling in for the staff she'd let go to give it more attention either. As a result, neither one of them had any more an idea of what was causing the cafe's financial woes than they had weeks earlier when they discussed the issues with offering happy hour to bed and breakfast guests.

  So, Cindy had asked Sarah to stop by that morning to give them a chance to talk about what they should do. Sarah had spoken to the bank on Cindy's behalf earlier in the week, and Cindy was looking forward to her daughter relaying a message that went something along the lines of: great work, Mum, you've paid down the debt, and the bank is going to reward you by forgiving the rest of it! Well, perhaps that wasn't it exactly,
but she'd thought it would be good news. She'd been working so hard to cut costs and get things in order.

  But it hadn't been good news. In fact, it was the opposite. The bank was threatening to foreclose on the house unless she increased her payments to more than double what she'd been managing, since, according to them, she'd been late on repayments for so long she still wasn't caught up.

  Cindy rubbed both hands over her face, her throat aching. It wasn't her fault; how could they hold it against her? But according to Sarah, that argument wouldn't work so there was no point in making it.

  Her house.

  She could lose the home she'd spent decades raising a family in, that she'd decorated with her own two hands.

  It wasn't so much the building but the betrayal. She'd always assumed she and Andrew would downsize one day. The kids had moved out, they were getting older, and the current house was simply too big, not to mention the gardens.

  Still, it shouldn't be this way. If the bank took the place, what would she do then? She wouldn't even have a deposit to buy something else. She'd be starting over again in her sixties, alone and broke. A chuckle erupted from her stomach, travelled up her throat and broke free from between her lips. Her eyebrows arched high. It was too much, unbelievable. The girl who had always had everything she'd ever wanted, had grown into a well-to-do woman, and was respected in her hometown would end her life as a beggar on the streets.

  Perhaps she was being overly dramatic. But asking one of her children if she could occupy their guest room was almost as bad as begging, to her way of thinking.

  She'd faced the challenge with a resolute jut of the chin, taken it all without many tears. But this was too much.

  Tears pooled in her eyes. She jabbed at them with the back of her hand, but they were quickly replaced by more. The chuckle turned into a wail, and she buried her face in her hands, her entire body shaking.