He had proven it when his father died. And again when they had to make the grim decision to put Mum in full-time nursing care. He had proven it on the vineyard when he took over the business and made the tough decisions.
But when Rachel died—he fell apart. He wasn’t in control of anything.
What a coward all right.
He had spent his entire life believing he was one person only to find out he was someone completely different. Someone he couldn’t respect anymore.
For almost two years now, Mitch had been trying to reconcile the man he had believed himself to be, expected himself to be, with the man he was now. The father who nearly gave his child away. The brother who made his siblings’ lives a living hell for many months. A business owner who hadn’t cared if the vineyard sank.
The guilt and shame he had harboured in his soul for this ate him up from inside like flesh-eating acid. Rachel had trusted him to be strong and resilient and, most importantly, responsible for their daughter when she needed him the most.
But he had failed. And all this time, he couldn’t forgive himself for that.
But Sam was right, he would never get the chance to take back or change what had happened. No matter what stories he told himself. No matter how miserable he remained.
And maybe that was why he had not been able to let Rachel go because he was still trying to make it up to her.
He stormed out to the dining room. His iPad was sitting on the table. In there were all the photos of the life he shared with Rachel.
He lifted up the tablet and trailed his finger over the screen. The blood dripping from his knuckles smudged the smooth surface.
He gripped the garbage bag and stormed for the front door. From the top of the landing, he threw the iPad onto the cement below.
The screen smashed—a thousand interconnected little veins spread across the surface. Small shards of glass disconnected and tinkled across the cement.
He raced down the stairs, dressed only his underwear, bag hoisted over his shoulder. After turning the iPad over, he stomped his heel into the back of it over and over, the glass crunching against the ground from the force.
Then he threw the iPad into the garbage bag too. Without stopping, his breathing frayed now, he marched to the bin and shoved the garbage bag inside, pushing it right to the bottom.
He slammed the lid, looked to the sky and yelled deep from his guts. He yelled and yelled and yelled until that tight agitation didn’t feel quite as strong.
‘Everything okay, Mitch?’ asked Georgia, holding the front screen door to her apartment open. A subtle wariness showed in the rounded set of her eyes.
Warm wetness slid down Mitch’s cheeks. He palmed his face, unsure when he had started crying. ‘I can’t keep being reminded all the time that she’s not coming back,’ he said. ‘I can’t do it anymore. I can’t fucking do it.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Do you need me to help you with anything?’
Mitch shook his head. ‘Only I can do this.’
A small sympathetic frown shaped Georgia’s lips. She nodded, a nod that said all by itself that yes, this was all up to him now.
He trudged up the stairs.
Back inside, he went to the living room. His legs were trembling until he could no longer stand. He collapsed to the floor and laid flat on his back, legs out wide, arms at his sides, and stared up at the ceiling.
Tears skirted down the sides of his cheeks, to his ears, then dripped onto the rug beneath him. A horrible wail that started in his chest leapt from his tight throat and filled the silent room. His mouth and face twisted into a strained, contorted mess of shapes.
For months, he had used every tool in his arsenal to avoid this one thing, this one wretched truth: he could not change the past. He could not save Rachel. He could not bring her back. And he could not change how he did or didn’t cope with his grief.
Lying there on that floor, he saw Rachel’s eyes for the first time—pale brown and filled with a confidence that she and he would become more than strangers to each other. He saw her wrapped in a white dress and veil as she walked down the aisle to meet him with a determination that this day was always meant to have occurred.
He was twenty-seven and he tasted rich gooey caramel cupcakes baked straight from the oven. Then he was twenty-eight and she was wearing nothing but a small strip of underwear, laughing as he chased her to the bedroom.
He was thirty and marvelled at the reflection of her small baby bump in the mirror as she dressed, and he watched her from their bed.
Then he was thirty-one and the doctor strode into the waiting room and looked at Mitch with eyes that had seen too much and spoke to him four words he never wanted to hear again—we couldn’t save her.
He desperately clawed for something on the other side of all that. Something that would say all by itself that if he did let go, there’d be something else for him to live for. And that he could be a different man, a man he could respect.
Sophie flickered through his mind—his beautiful, darling daughter with her cheeky smiling mouth and big brown eyes.
He jolted as the next image arose—Matilda. Her compassionate hazel eyes, her warm, loving arms wrapped around his waist. ‘I love you,’ she whispered in his thoughts.
More images seeped in, of him, Matilda and Sophie sitting close together on a bed. In Matilda’s arms was a little baby tightly wrapped in a blanket. They all looked at this child with so much love, he could feel it sliding down his throat and repairing all the scars and nicks and wounds.
He wanted that—every part of that. That’s what he had in his future if he would let it in. Love that would heal him.
Could he?
He had no choice anymore.
If he ever wanted to exist in this world as a whole being, he had to accept what was no longer a part of his life and what was no longer a part of him, and embrace what could be.
Rachel appeared before him in his mind then. His lips trembled and eyes watered as he held her soft, gentle hands. She was so beautiful it stole his breath away. She gazed at him with such warmth and love.
‘I forgive you, Mitch,’ she whispered.
And just like with the balloon he had allowed to float away high into the afternoon sky, he loosened his tight grip on her hands and released her.
A horrible cry sounded from him, his chest tight and achy, as he watched his darling wife float away.
A terrible pulse of pain as his body cracked right down the centre and from that long fissure all his shame and guilt was released up into the atmosphere.
When he opened his eyes, he took a deep breath. A breath that felt very much like the first this lifetime. He stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, for a long while as his body and mind recalibrated.
From this point on he would be much different to the man he once was. And he knew that the man he now was, was good and deserving of love. But he had to take that one final step towards Matilda to solidify the change.
Chapter 27
Matilda spent three full days in bed. She’d had her share of broken hearts in her life, but none ever felt like this.
Exhaustion had taken her over. Her body was achy, especially her breasts. She couldn’t even allow the shower water to stream on them.
It wasn’t like her to wallow like this, to allow the emotions to take her under so deeply, but nothing she tried helped. The only thing she could cope with was lying in bed and reading light novels all day.
By midday on the third day, she had finished reading a blog by some motivational woman from the UK. The layout of the blog and photos, not to mention the horrendous choice of font type and the colour allowed Matilda to think about something else other than her own wretched state.
With her misguided anger over this digital media atrocity, she mustered enough motivation to roll out of bed, shower and dress into something other than pyjamas.
While the momentum was there, she climbed into her car and headed for her mother’s house. It
was time to talk about this. She had been ignoring her mother because she would have forced Matilda to look at what happened with Mitch rationally. And Matilda wanted to fall apart a little first before logic had to come into it.
The moment her mother opened the door, her eyes widened as she took in Matilda’s form in front of her—loose fitting denim shorts and a baggy old t-shirt. Her hair was brushed, but not styled. No makeup.
‘What the bloody hell happened to you?’
Matilda burst into tears and as Mum cuddled her and whispered sympathies in her ear, she wondered if she would even be capable of rationality when it came to Mitch Mathews.
In the back of her mind as Mum made them both a cup of tea and dished homemade biscuits onto a plate for them to eat on the back pergola as they talked, she knew that her emotions were overwrought, too intense, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t control them.
‘Tell me what’s happened?’ Mum asked once they were seated next to each other. A warm breeze blew off the paddocks filling the air with the familiar scent of grassy cattle manure and the odour of beasts. The weather was still warm, though the heat from Christmas had mellowed.
Matilda bit into a biscuit and didn’t wait to chew or swallow before saying, ‘Mitch flat-out said that he didn’t want any more children.’
Mum nodded slowly. ‘I see. Well, that creates a dilemma.’
She took another bite of the biscuit while nodding. ‘It’s over. No more dilemma.’
‘Maybe he needs some time.’
‘Maybe I should have gone on a date with stupid Brad Meyers instead of wasting my life away on a man who is so caught up with his ex-wife I never stood a chance.’
Mum sighed. ‘Brad’s actually got himself a girlfriend. Jennifer’s been feeding him those cupcakes every day. Sorry, honey, but Cupid waits for no-one.’
She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Lot of good Cupid did for me.’
‘Maybe the story isn’t over yet.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please. It’s over. I’m done. More than done.’
Mum eyed her for a long moment. ‘Is there anything else bothering you because aside from the Mitch dilemma you really don’t sound like yourself.’
Tears pooled in Matilda’s eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m tired. I can’t stop crying. Bloody Mitch. If he even dares call me, I’ll … punch him.’
A small smile curled the corners of Mum’s lips. ‘Do you want him to call you?’
Matilda huffed. ‘I told him not to. But he could have at least tried. He hasn’t even sent a text.’
‘So there’s hope?’
Matilda shook her head so hard she couldn’t focus her eyes. ‘Not one bit of hope. If he even thinks that I would ever be stupid enough to give him yet another chance, then he’s really really really mistaken.’
Mum reached over and pressed her hand to Matilda’s forehead. ‘You don’t have a temperature.’
‘God, Mum, my heart is broken. I’m allowed to cry.’
‘I know, but it’s just so unusual.’
Matilda stilled then. Goosebumps spread along the length of her arms. She looked at her mum with wide eyes. ‘My boobs are really sore. And I’ve been feeling a little sick in the morning.’
Mum drew a deep breath. ‘Have you been tired?’
‘Yes,’ Matilda whispered.
‘Are you late?’
Matilda could barely breathe by this stage. She thought back to when she last had her period and counted. ‘Oh my god. I’m like, four or five days late. How could I not have realised this?’ She shook her head and scoffed. ‘No way. Not this quickly. Not when I …’ She thought back to the first night she had slept with Mitch after the Christmas party—they hadn’t used protection. She was on the pill, but she wasn’t so great at taking it regularly.
‘It only takes one time, Mati.’
All the blood drained from her face leaving her cheeks cold. ‘This can’t happen. No.’ Tears filled her eyes again. ‘I can’t be pregnant to Mitch. He doesn’t want children.’
‘You don’t know for sure yet if you are pregnant, though,’ Mum said.
Matilda sat up straight, finally caught her breath. ‘Right. Exactly. It could be anything. I might be getting a cold.’
‘Before you start stressing out, go and buy a tester kit.’
‘Yes. That’s what I have to do.’ She lurched to her feet, her hips knocking the table and spilling tea everywhere. Tears pooled again. ‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.’
Mum caught her hand. ‘Mati, look at me.’
She looked at her mother through tear-blurred eyes. ‘What?’
‘It will be okay. Whatever happens, it will be okay. Now leave this. I’ll clean it up. Go and get that test, then we’ll have facts to deal with.’
Matilda breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. ‘Okay.’ She leant down and kissed her mum’s cheek. ‘Thank you.’
Mum smiled in that I’ve-got-your-back way.
On the way to the chemist on Main Street, she dabbed her eyes with tissues in the hope she could look semi-respectful when she went in. In the car park, she tied her hair up into a messy bun and dabbed on a little lip gloss.
After a quick glance in the mirror, citing, ‘that will have to do’, she called on all her courage and raced inside.
She avoided eye contact with the retail clerks, not wishing to state out loud that she was looking for pregnancy test kits—in a town this size, news would travel quickly—and glanced down each small aisle until she found the right one.
As fast as she could, she scanned the kits and grabbed one that stated it would show results even in the early stages. Despite her mental turmoil, she silently congratulated the marketing team involved in packaging this item for knowing exactly what potential buyers would be looking for—easy test, early results, very accurate.
She grabbed the kit from the shelf, shoved it under her arm and marched to the front counter. An older woman was being served her prescriptions. The pharmacist was speaking loudly so the woman could hear her. Unfortunately, Matilda now also knew how to use ointment to treat foot corns.
When the woman left, Matilda stepped forward and placed the kit on the counter.
‘Just this?’ said the young man.
Matilda nodded.
A shadow loomed from behind her. ‘Ooh, fancy seeing you here. I haven’t heard from you since we had coffee. I thought you might have been dead but turns out,’ Tiffany said pointing to the pregnancy kit on the counter, ‘you were busy in other ways.’
Heat rose in Matilda’s cheeks. Of all the people to meet here and now, it had to be Tiffany.
‘Um … it’s for a friend,’ she stuttered.
Tiffany rolled her head back and laughed. ‘Oh, please. You expect me to believe that when I hear around town that you and Mitch Mathews have been going at it like rabbits.’
One: how would anyone know that she and Mitch had been going at it like rabbits?
And two: could she please speak more quietly.
Matilda glanced around the store, met the eyes of the pharmacist who was smirking slightly.
‘Could you keep your voice down?’ Matilda hissed. ‘Seriously, this is a chemist and this is my personal business.’
Tiffany had the nerve to look affronted. ‘I was just trying to make friendly conversation.’
Matilda sighed. ‘I’m sorry. Of course. But this is private.’
Tiffany nodded. ‘Fine. I get it. I’ll see you around, Matilda.’ And she strode away.
Matilda paid the clerk and rushed out the front door, head down until she made it back to her car. She banged the steering wheel when she was seated and swore under her breath. Could this day get any worse?
Chapter 28
Mitch answered the phone as he lugged a basket full of washing from his dryer to the living room where he rested it on the lounge to fold later.
‘Have you spoken to Matilda yet?’ Amy asked through the pho
ne’s mouthpiece.
Mitch closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I appreciate everyone’s concern, but this is my business.’ He didn’t want to admit that he, on numerous occasions, went downstairs, climbed into his car, ready to drive to Matilda’s, only to stop himself because what could he possibly say that would make this better?
How could he explain the changes that occurred inside of him enough for her to know that he was now different, unburdened by his past regrets?
He had written a hundred text messages only to delete them before he sent them because none of them were worded well enough to truly express how he felt right now.
‘It’s taken me a lot of back and forth with Tom to decide if I should say something.’
Mitch stopped in the middle of the living room and held the phone tighter. ‘What about?’
Sophie was playing with her toys on the mat. Her little voice—some words he couldn’t decipher, some he could—filled the long pause before Amy spoke again.
‘Um, Mitch, I think Matilda might be pregnant.’
His breath caught in his throat. ‘What?’
‘The source isn’t too reliable, so I can’t be certain. But Tiffany came into the store yesterday and said she saw Matilda in the chemist the day before buying a pregnancy test.’
All the air in his lungs streamed out in a long rush. ‘Really?’
‘I’m worried about her. She’s not answering my calls. Nor Ellie’s. Nor answering her door.’
He pressed his thumb and finger against his forehead and let out a low groan. Time was up, well and truly. With or without the right words, he had to see Matilda and he had make this right between them.
‘Thanks for letting me know, Amy.’
He said goodbye and hung up the phone. He fell back onto the couch as he dropped the phone beside him on the cushion.
He pictured Matilda at home alone dealing with a new pregnancy barely a week after he said he didn’t want children and let her walk out of his life.
When Rachel had done a similar test those few years ago, he was so excited. Then when the result was positive, he had never felt such happiness. He had never loved Rachel more. All at once, he wanted to cradle her in his arms like she was fragile glass and make sure nothing bad ever happened to her.
Sweet From the Vine Page 27