by Diana Fraser
“Yes.”
There was a pause as they both sipped their coffee, and David watched the bobbing red-head.
“Can you see her?”
David swung around to face his sister. “Who?”
“Who do you think? Amber, of course.”
“What makes you think I’m looking for her?”
“Just a wild guess.” She sighed. “Come on, David. You’ve got to cut yourself some slack.”
Something crumpled in him then and he said down opposite Zoe, his back to the lively scene outside the window. “How can I? I stuffed up.”
Zoe wheeled her chair closer, so it bumped against his knees, and stared at him. She huffed a sigh of frustration. “For as long as I can remember, you were always there for me. And since Mum and Dad died, you’ve played an even bigger part in my life. But, you’re right, you’ve stuffed up here, big time. But you’re not the man I think you are if you don’t do something about it.”
David rubbed his eyes. “I’m trying. I’m re-working my business.”
“I’m not talking about business. I’m talking about Amber. You said you loved her and, if that’s correct, you need to do whatever you have to, to make things right between you.”
“But I don’t know what to do. If she doesn’t want to see me, I can’t make her.”
“Maybe not. But you’ll have to do to yourself, what it is you’re doing to your business. You’ll have to show her you’ve changed. If you have.” She sat back. The challenge issued.
He jumped up. “Of course I have. She’s changed the way I see everything.”
“Good heavens! My powerful brother changed by love. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re not the only one,” he grumbled. “What am I going to do, Zoe?”
“You’re going to go over to that park, see Amber, and tell her you’re not giving up on her. And you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not giving up on you. You can do this, David. You can let down that guard on your heart which you so successfully erected when Mum died, and you can let love into your life.” She reached out her hand, which he gripped. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because we’re talking about Amber, here. And, from what you’ve told me, what I’ve heard about her, and what I’ve seen just this morning, she’s not going to take your love and throw it in your face.”
He looked out the window at the festival which was now beginning to pack up for the day. Could he do it? He felt as if everything sure in his life was falling away, and he didn’t know what would be left after it had fallen. But there was only one way to find out.
He stood up.
“Are you coming with me?”
Zoe smiled a big smile of relief. “No, I reckon you need to do this alone.”
He paused at the door and turned to her. “Tell me, Zoe, truthfully. I didn’t get all of this”—he indicated the home he’d built for her in place of the old cottage which had stood on the site for over a century—“wrong, did I? I only wanted to stop tragedy happening to other people. I can’t bear to think I was so wrong.”
“You weren’t. You’ve done lots of things right. You’ve saved lots of people’s lives. It’s just you’ve gone a bit too far now. It’s time for a change. Time to think of yourself, time to be less black and white about things.”
He grunted in amusement. “Time to put color back in my life. Time to have Amber in my life.”
“I think so. Good luck.”
As he kissed Zoe goodbye, left her house and crossed the road, heading toward the park, he thought he’d need it.
* * *
“Amber, come and join us!” called Rachel, who was capably juggling a small baby, a glass of wine, and refereeing between their brother, Rob, and their father, Jim. It looked like all her family had turned up and were now crowded around a table set up beside Amber’s café’s stall.
“In a minute. I just need to tidy up.”
Amber sighed and went back to cleaning the trestle tables and packing the remaining food and quirky chinaware back into the baskets.
Akaroa’s French Festival was drawing to a close, but the sun still shone, unseasonably hot. All Amber wanted to do was to go home and be alone. Her mind and heart were full of David’s betrayal. She couldn’t think of anything else.
But it looked like she wasn’t going to get her way.
Rachel sent Rob off to find Flo—why, Amber didn’t know, because Flo had gone out of her way to avoid Rob—deposited her baby on Zane’s lap, and came over and began stacking the plates into a box for Amber.
“You don’t have to do that,” said Amber.
“No,” said Rachel, emptying out some half-glasses of water onto the trampled dry grass. “I don’t, but unless I do, you’ll never sit down with us.”
Amber shrugged but didn’t reply, just kept on wiping the now non-existent crumbs from the table top. Truth was she didn’t want to sit down, she didn’t want to stop because then she’d have to think and thinking hurt—both her brain and her heart.
Suddenly Rachel’s hand pressed on hers. “Stop, Amber. You’re done here.” Rachel tilted her head so Amber had no choice but to face her. “Okay?”
Amber nodded and looked away, tossing down the cloth and wiping her hands on her apron. “Okay.” She squinted into the sunlight. It was the last day of the festival and it wound up mid afternoon, so the sun was still high. “Okay,” she repeated, looking around to see what else there was to do. There was nothing. Rachel had finished tidying things up. All that was needed now was to take the boxes to the car.
“Say it once more and I might believe you.”
Amber turned to Rachel but didn’t say it the third time. There was no point, she wouldn’t be fooling anyone. She’d lost her heart, had it trampled on, and now felt broken. She wasn’t sure she’d be mending any time soon.
“You go back to everyone. I’ll just finish up here.”
Rachel shook her head, her lips pursed, but she agreed. “I’ll get Zane to help you lug the heavy stuff to the car. And then, Amber”—she took hold of her arm—“come and join us and have a big glass of wine.”
“I’m not in the mood for drinking. Or talking, come to that.”
“This is so not like you,” said Rachel. “You have to try to get over it.”
“Do I? Maybe I’ll just live with it, see how that goes.” She realized her tone sounded bitter, and she never sounded bitter. Rachel looked even more worried, and Amber took pity on her. She sighed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She kissed Rachel on the cheek. “You go back to your baby.” They both turned to see him being jiggled on Zane’s lap, his arms reaching out to Rachel as he uttered an insistent squawk.
Rachel smiled. “Okay, but join us, yes? I can’t bear you looking so sad.”
Amber nodded and watched Rachel walk away and be swallowed up by the Connelly and extended families. She turned quickly. She didn’t want to see them, or be a part of them today. The sooner she was done, the quicker she’d be home.
She bent down to pick up a heavy pallet, but another pair of hands beat her to it, and she looked up into green, green eyes.
“David!” She jumped back, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart threatened to jump from. “You made me jump.”
“Sorry,” he said, standing up, his hands full. “Are these going in there?” He indicated the open boot.
“Yes, but…”
He didn’t wait to hear what she was about to say, and all she could do was collect some things and follow him to the car. He loaded them carefully into the boot and Amber was briefly distracted by the sight of his muscled arms as they pushed the heavy load into the car. Then he stood back, his hands on his hips, and looked around. “Is there anything else you need shifting?” He looked at her straight, as if their last conversation hadn’t been life changing and emotionally charged. All she could do was shake her h
ead in disbelief.
“No?” He checked around. “Then what about those?”
She glanced at where he was pointing. “Yes, sure. I need to take those back to the café, too.”
“Then why did you shake your head?”
“Because I can’t believe you’re here, helping me, after how we left it.”
He nodded and looked down, continued to nod as if wrestling with what he was about to say next. Then he looked up, fixed her with that intense green stare which still made her go mushy inside, whether she wanted it to or not. “Amber, I’d like to talk to you. Can I visit you some time?”
“I don’t believe we have anything to talk about.”
“But there’s something I want to say.”
She folded her arms. “Say it then.”
He looked around. “Not here. Somewhere in private.”
She grunted. “No way. You think you can get me on your own and persuade me you’re not a bastard?”
“No, I don’t want to persuade you about anything, I just want to talk.”
“The answer is no. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” She tossed the last tablecloth into her bag and walked over to her family. She cast one last glance at David, who was striding over the parched grass of the reserve where people were busy dismantling tents and tables, where children ran and teenagers gathered, heads together, laughing, as older people looked on and reminisced. It felt like the whole world was there, but Amber’s eyes watched only David, taller than the others, his step purposeful. He might believe he’d changed, but he looked no different to her. He still looked like a god, made of different stuff to the rest of them.
“Hey,” said Maddy. “What’s up?”
Amber turned to Maddy and forced a smile. “Nothing.”
Maddy frowned. Amber’s smile obviously wasn’t very convincing. “Doesn’t look like nothing.” Amber glanced towards where David was last seen, and Maddy followed her gaze. “Was that David?”
Amber nodded and allowed her smile to fall. It was all she could do not to cry.
“Oh, Amber.” Maddy gave Amber a hug. “It’ll be all right. I’m sure of it. Look how Gabe and I were. I thought it was all over, but then it came right in the end. And I’m sure it’ll be the same for you and David.”
“Are you? I’m not. We’re opposites. He’s everything I don’t want, and yet he’s everything I do want.”
“Oh, that sounds confusing.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So, what’s he doing here, anyway?”
“He wanted to talk to me. But I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Talking might be good?” Maddy suggested tentatively.
“No. Talking would be bad.”
Maddy followed Amber’s gaze to where they could see David getting into his car and driving off at an uncharacteristically slow speed in the opposite direction to Christchurch. “That’s a shame.”
Amber sighed in agreement.
“Come on,” said Maddy, putting her arm around Amber. “Let’s go join the family.”
“No, you go,” said Amber. “I’m going home. Tell them I’m feeling tired, will you?”
“Sure.”
And, for once, her family didn’t follow her, but let her get into her car and drive the short distance to her home. She knew they could see her from there. See her from across the reserve to her row of cottages. She knew they could watch as she parked her yellow VW—she’d offload the stuff the next day—and walk up her path, greet her neighbors, and open her door. But she knew they wouldn’t be able to see her tears as she closed her door.
She automatically went to the kitchen, filled the kettle and placed it on the hob to boil. She leaned against the kitchen bench and looked out through her small rooms, to the sunny reserve in the distance, her mind full of one question—what was it that David wanted to say to her?
* * *
Amber had thought she’d managed to escape interfering family and friends, but when a knock came at her door, just as dusk was falling, she realized she’d been mistaken. Couldn’t they take a hint?
“Yes?” she said briskly, opening the door wide, prepared to tell her family where to go. But instead, her gaze lowered to a woman in a wheelchair.
“Oh, hello!” said Amber, with an uncertain smile.
The woman had long dark hair and was beautifully made up. She looked familiar somehow. She smiled back. She could have been a model, if… Amber’s gaze flickered down to the wheelchair. It looked custom built, it looked permanent.
“Hello, Amber.”
Amber’s smile widened as she racked her brain trying to think who this beautiful woman was. She gave up.
“I’m sorry, but if we’ve met before, I’ve forgotten. Brain like a sieve.”
“We haven’t met. We have a mutual friend who’s told me a lot about you. And I’ve seen you around. I recently moved here.”
“Oh,” said Amber, wondering whether she should invite this stranger in. She didn’t look as if she’d do Amber any harm. Her brothers were always warning her not to invite waifs and strays home. “Would you like to come in for a cuppa? The kettle’s just boiled.”
“That’s lovely of you, but no. For one thing, I’d have difficulty getting my wheelchair over the threshold and through that narrow gap. Old cottages are a nightmare for wheelchairs. And for another…” She trailed off. But her gaze didn’t waver.
Amber cocked her head to one side and smiled hesitantly again. “For another?”
“I’m not sure you’ll want me in your house once you know why I’m here.”
Amber laughed. “I doubt that. I can’t imagine you could do anything except light up a room you’re in. You’re so beautiful!”
“You’re exactly as he described.”
A warning tremor zapped through Amber. The smile faded, and she frowned. “He?”
“Yes. He said you were sweet as sweet could be. I said you couldn’t be. But he insisted. Seems he was right.” She extended her hand to Amber, who had no choice but to take it. “I’m Zoe Tremayne, David’s sister. And I’ve come to tell you why you should give him a second chance.”
Amber was rarely speechless but, as she stood there on her doorstep with her mouth wide open, not a word of response came into her brain. Of course she knew David had a sister, but not one who was both beautiful and in a wheelchair. And that this unknown sister should choose to pay her a visit with the intention of pleading his case astounded her.
“A second chance?” she asked, echoing the words because she wasn’t able to summon up any original ones of her own.
“I do understand that my idiot brother doesn’t deserve a second chance. What he did was unforgivable but”—his sister scrunched up her lovely face in what could only be described as an adorable, charming manner—“I love him and would do anything to make him happy.”
“I understand that. I’m the same with my brothers, but…” Amber shrugged. How could she tell this woman that there was nothing she could say that would make Amber change her mind? That David had been the rat of the highest order, and nothing Zoe could ever say would change that?
“Please, Amber? Just a few minutes?”
Amber never had been good at standing her ground. She sighed and gestured helplessly with her hands. “Okay, but you’d better come in.”
“Thank you! I appreciate it.”
Amber squeezed around the chair and tilted it up—it was surprisingly light—to raise it over the threshold and into the narrow hall. “I see what you mean,” said Amber. “They didn’t make these old cottages with wheelchairs in mind.”
“At least your cottage has an excuse—it must be over a hundred years old. The same can’t be said for more recent buildings which I can’t get into.”
“That must be frustrating,” said Amber, wheeling her into the lounge. From there Zoe took control and spun the chair around, rucking up one of the rugs a little.
“What a lovely place you have here.” She shone that hu
ndred-watt smile on Amber once more. “David’s description didn’t do it justice.”
Amber felt her own smile fade. Had David told his sister absolutely everything about her? Her own discomfort at the thought must have shown. Either that or what Zoe lacked in physical ability, she more than made up for in empathy and understanding.
“David doesn’t tell me everything. It’s just that”—she grimaced a little—“I don’t get out much and so I ask him a lot of questions.”
“Why don’t you get out much? You seem pretty mobile.”
“My decision. After my accident, I became a bit reclusive. It wasn’t the life I had imagined for myself, you see. A million miles from what I wanted. It’s only recently that I’ve emerged from that pit of despair.”
Amber perched on the edge of her seat and wrung her hands in sympathy. “It must have been awful. What happened?”
“The Christchurch earthquake is what happened.”
“Oh no! Were you trapped?”
Zoe nodded. “Yep. I shouldn’t even have been there. I should have been in London doing a fashion shoot for Burberry, but at the last minute they’d postponed a few days and I shot home to see some friends. Then one of them called and left a message for David to give him a lift. But David wasn’t there, so I went instead. Our friend worked on the top floor of a hundred-year-old building.” Zoe looked into the mid-distance, lost in her memories. “Charming, totally charming.” Then she re-focused on Amber. “A totally charming deathtrap, as it turned out. Our friend died that day under the rubble. And for a while I wished it had been me. It was selfish. Stupid of me, I know. But there it is. I couldn’t see a future without the use of my legs.”
“But you do now?”
“Yes. And there’s only one reason for that. David. He’s been everything to me these past few years. He’s kept me company to hell and back and made sure that I did come back. But it’s affected him too, and that’s what I wanted to come here to tell you, because there’s no way on this earth that he’s ever going to stick up for himself and tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s too damned proud. He wanted to use you, Amber, to help him get rid of the opposition to demolish that old building you loved so much. But he wanted to use you for one reason only. And that was because he’d vowed never to let anything like what happened to me, happen to anyone else. He sees it as his personal mission to make sure that there’s not a building in all of Christchurch which would collapse like a pack of cards like the one I was in did. And I suspect there’s an element of guilt involved, too.”