by Diana Fraser
“And that, darling, is exactly what Akaroa needs. Your kind of place. It’s perfect.”
And, as Amber left to track down Maddy, she thought it might not be perfect—because how could it be when she felt as if there were a hole in her heart—but it would be the next best thing. A project and a future which she could make her own, depending on no one, being controlled by no one. Hers alone.
It was raining by the time David reached Amber’s house. He parked the car in the carpark down the road, there being no parks close to Amber’s cottage. Despite the increasing heaviness of the rain, David walked with his head up, his gaze fixed on Amber’s cottage, trying to discern signs of life. Unlike the other cottages in the row, Amber’s, snug in the middle of the row, was dark.
He stood on the pavement beside which the sea had crept in over the sands and now lapped meekly at the stone wall alongside which the coast road ran. Behind Amber’s cottage, the hill rose steeply to a row of grander houses above. Wasn’t she in? Maybe she’d gone to bed already? But a quick check at his watch revealed, despite the gray skies and strengthening rain and misty atmosphere, it wasn’t yet seven.
All the lights were on in all the other cottages. It made the absence of light even more stark. He could stay there all night, he suddenly realized, getting more soaked by the minute in his thin shirt—it hadn’t been raining when he’d left Christchurch—but nothing would change. He was scared—scared of what he’d find in Amber’s house. He’d avoided emotion for so long that it seemed it scared him more than anything. The thought made him angry and spurred him on.
He clicked the latch on the small cross-barred gate and walked up the short path. The drooping flowers and lavender brushed past his legs, releasing their perfumes, and the wind chimes which hung from the gnarled branches of the pohutukawa tree tinkled in the wind. He glanced through the window and was relieved to see the flicker of a candle. Of course, Amber wouldn’t sit in the flooded artificial light of an electric bulb. She was a candle kind of girl. He liked that about her.
He was about to knock on the door when it opened. Her hair was rimmed with the soft golden light of the candle, which flickered in the hallway behind her. She looked like an angel. Then she stepped closer to him.
“What do you want?”
Make that an avenging angel.
“I’d like to apologize.”
She gripped the door in a most un-Amber like way. “Apologize? And you think that would make everything all right? You think I’d accept it, jump into your arms and allow you to carry me to bed? Is that right?”
He hadn’t, but her description led his mind astray and he was speechless for a few moments. Moments in which she stepped closer and prodded his chest with her finger, her eyes glittering as amber as her name. From the angel, she’d just transformed to devil. Somehow he liked that just as much.
“No. Not at all. Well, only if that’s okay.” He winced as soon as he’d spoken the words. It was true. If she’d make it easy for him then he was more than happy to grab the easy option.
She lowered her head and narrowed her eyes. He could have sworn sparks emerged from her eyes. But it must only have been the way the candles flared in the draft from the door, reflecting light in her eyes and casting doubt in his soul.
“Please, Amber. Could you spare me a few moments? Let me speak and then I’ll leave. I promise I won’t darken your door again if you don’t want me to. But I couldn’t leave it as it was. Okay?” He tried to give her his best smile, but he suspected his lips hadn’t moved if her reaction was anything to go by. “Please, can I come in?”
“No. I’ll hear whatever you have to say here, and then you can leave.”
He had to admire her. He’d angered women in the past, but none had stood up to him quite so strongly. Any resistance had always been overcome when he’d fixed an expensive necklace around their neck, or handed them first-class tickets to the Seychelles. Some he’d just had to kiss. He’d been spoiled, that much was obvious. But it stopped here and now, because there was no way Amber was going to let him off easy, if at all. That much was clear.
“I’m an idiot, Amber. An absolute idiot.”
“Well, at least that’s one thing we agree on.”
The rain had begun to seep under his thin jacket and trickle down his neck, but he knew he couldn’t leave until Amber had given him some sign that everything was okay between them. He had no choice but to go back to the beginning.
“It’s true that I first came to the café because I wanted to get to know you.”
“To use me, you mean.”
He grunted and gave a short nod. He couldn’t quite bring himself to agree to that, even if it were true. “To get to know you. I’d seen your rainbows, and they were causing me no end of headaches, and I wanted to see the person behind them.”
“So you could put a stop to it.”
“I could have got the police to do that. You were painting on my property.”
“But you knew that we’d continue, because it wasn’t just the painting, it was that we were right—”
“Yes—”
“And that you were wrong. And you won’t admit it.”
“I just did,” he said quietly. “You and your friends were right all along. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened and lost their glitter. “You are?”
“Yes. I shouldn’t have been so rigid, so dogmatic as to impair my judgement. I was wrong, Amber. Wrong in so many ways. Wrong about the building, I should have listened to you and to everyone else, and wrong in my dealings with you. I’d always prized honesty, and yet I somehow lost the plot when it came to you. And I know why. Because I was scared I’d lose you. I’d always intended to have a rational talk to you, make you see sense and then leave it at that. What I hadn’t planned was on falling in love with you.”
Something like a whimper escaped Amber’s lips.
“I love you, Amber. And I want to marry you. That’s why I came.”
Another whimper, louder than before. “Okay. Perhaps you’d better come in then.”
She opened the door and stood to one side to let him enter. He stepped into the wooden-floored hallway, leaving a puddle around his feet.
“In fact, I think you’d better come into the bathroom. I’ll get you some towels.”
He followed her through the living room and sat on the side of the old-fashioned claw-footed bath. He gave his hair and face a cursory wipe.
Amber leaned against the side of the door, watching him. He hadn’t a clue what she was thinking. She hadn’t said anything since he’d proposed, apart from hand him some towels.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
It was a better offer than nothing. “Yes.”
“Shame, because I haven’t got any food you like.” His heart plummeted again. “I have some home-made hummus and vege sticks.” He felt as if he’d suddenly been transported back in time to when his mother had gone through her vegetarian phase. Thankfully, it hadn’t lasted long.
“That would be…” He was about to say lovely but didn’t want to say anything he didn’t mean.
“Nothing like what you want.” She finished his sentence. “Well, come and sit by the fire, anyway.”
He followed her into the small sitting room where flames from a log fire flickered along with the candles. The pretty large-flowered wallpaper which, he knew, was usually used only for a feature wall against some stark floor-to-ceiling window or brick wall, was here on all four walls. As he sat in the proffered bean bag and sank down, his wet trousers uncomfortable, he felt as if he were in some kind of nest of fire, flame and flowers. It was a strange feeling. Perhaps he was coming down with a chill. He closed his eyes without knowing it, but her soft voice broke through.
“So, what is it you want?”
“First, to thank you for allowing me in. I know I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s down to your sister.”
“Zoe?”
“Yes, she
came around yesterday and I went to see her this morning. She filled me in on you.”
It was a strange, disorienting thought that Zoe and Amber had been talking about him behind his back.
“It’s the only reason I’ve let you in,” Amber continued.
He could guess what Zoe had told Amber. “My family history is no excuse for what I did to you. And I’ve come here tonight for one reason only.” He stood up, relieved from the discomfort of being squashed in a bean bag in damp trousers.
She rose, too, meeting his gaze with a steadiness and strength which unnerved him. He realized exactly how much he’d underestimated this woman. “And what’s that?”
“To tell you that I’ve changed. That I’ve moved my business practice here and intend to run it from Akaroa.”
“I know. Your sister told me.” She folded her arms. “What I don’t know is why.”
“Isn’t that obvious? Because you’re here. And wherever you are, I must be close.”
“But I’ve told you I don’t want you.”
“And I respect that. Don’t worry, I won’t stalk you. I won’t even come near you from now on unless you invite me to. But I want you to see me around, and know that it’s not only words, but I’m putting my words into practice. I’m changing, Amber, and that’s down to you.”
“Well, good for you, David. But it’s nothing to do with me. We don’t have a relationship anymore, if ever we did.”
It struck at the heart of him. He hadn’t known it would be this painful to allow himself to feel again. But he also knew how precious this feeling was and that he’d never turn back.
He nodded. “Of course. Whatever you want. But, please, can we be friends at least?”
She didn’t say anything immediately, and it was as if his life hung in the balance. Then she nodded. “Okay. Friends.” She stuck out her hand, and he took it, full of intense relief.
“Thank you.”
Too quickly, she slid her hand from his and opened the door. Before he knew it, he was back out in the wet street.
“Goodnight, then,” he said.
“Goodnight,” she said quietly, before closing the door.
But, as he walked back to his car, he remembered the look in her eye as she’d closed the door. That bright anger had gone, replaced by a warmth in which he found hope. It was enough for him to cling to for now.
11
“Glad to see you back in the land of the living,” said Maddy, looking up from her laptop and plucking one of Gabe’s invoices from the antiquated spike on which he placed them.
“I only took one day off work,” said Amber, automatically turning on the coffee maker which Maddy had introduced into Gabe’s otherwise basic kitchen. She hooked her bag on the back of a spindle-backed chair and sat down opposite Maddy. She looked at the cool beauty and, not for the first time, wished she possessed a tiny bit of Maddy’s composure. Even if she knew that, beneath it, Maddy was every bit as emotional as the rest of them.
It was four in the afternoon and the early spring light was beginning to shift to a rich glow which shone through the front door and down the wooden-floored hall. If Belendroit was Amber’s second home, then Gabe and Maddy’s place—which doubled as Gabe’s surgery—was her third home. Ever since the day Maddy had arrived in Akaroa with only a backpack and a secret, they’d been fast friends.
The coffee machine light shone steadily and Amber rose and made three cups of coffee. Gabe’s surgery would be finishing soon and there was no one in the waiting room which she’d passed. She brought two cups to the table and glanced over Maddy’s shoulder at the spreadsheet, which looked incomprehensible to her. She placed a cup of coffee beside Maddy and took her seat once more.
“It’s amazing how you can use spreadsheets.”
Maddy looked up with a smile in her eyes. “No more amazing than how you create your art.” She glanced back down at the screen and rapidly typed some entries. “Lucky that we’re all types of amazing.”
“Yes, it is,” said Amber, cradling her coffee.
Maddy snapped closed the laptop. “But I guess you didn’t come around to talk about spreadsheets.”
“Actually, I did.”
Maddy opened her eyes wide and reached for her coffee. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I have a proposition for you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well, you know you said that you planned to reduce your hours working for the university, now you’re pregnant.”
“Yes,” said Maddy slowly, obviously wondering where Amber was going.
“Well, I wondered if you’d be interested in a business venture. Working from home, around the baby.” She nodded to Maddy’s pregnant stomach.
“What kind of business venture?”
Amber licked her lips. Ever since the blow up with David, she’d been thinking about her life and what she wanted. It had all become clearer when she knew what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be reliant on anyone else for her future. She didn’t want to be dependent on a man for her emotional or physical needs, and she certainly didn’t want to go cap in hand to an art gallery to only have them look down at her work.
“I don’t think the owner will take much persuading to sell the café. I want to buy it and I can run it easily enough, dealing with the food and the people, but I can’t run the business side and wondered if you’d come in with me as a partner.”
The words had tumbled out, and Amber held her breath as she waited for Maddy to answer. Her hands tightened around the coffee cup but she didn’t drink from it, because she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t splutter. As soon as the idea had entered her head, after David’s comment about the café being a reflection of her personality, the notion had refused to leave.
“What’s brought this on?” asked Maddy.
Amber hadn’t expected Maddy to reply directly immediately. It wasn’t Maddy’s way. But she was still a bit disappointed.
“David.” She took a sip of her coffee and pushed it back onto the scrubbed pine table. “Something he said about how people went to the café because of me.”
“That’s true.”
Amber shrugged. “I don’t know. But it made me think. David had arranged the exhibition for me because I hadn’t managed it myself. But I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have let him take control. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine. And I intend to rectify that. For all the mistakes David made, he did actually make me feel more confident and make me think bigger.” She sat forward in her chair, eager now. “You see, I thought I could use it to show my work and others like it. It’s the perfect setting, nothing snotty or high-brow like the Christchurch galleries. It’s got the right vibe. Or it will have with a little tweaking.”
“Hm,” said Maddy, taking an annoyingly long sip of coffee, frowning at the table, lost in thought. “You are certainly the main attraction at the café. You know everyone and everyone knows you. That’s why they go there. What about the food?”
“The chef wants to continue to work. She’ll simply be working for me, with better wages.
“Are you sure you want to take on the responsibility of owning a café?”
Amber hesitated.
“You’ve never wanted it before,” said Maddy. “In fact, you also seemed to hate any responsibility.”
“That’s true. But, you know, Maddy, I feel different since David came along. I mean, I know it’s over between us—”
“Do you? I’m not so sure.”
Amber gave Maddy a hard look. “It’s over, believe me. How can I trust someone who wants to use me—someone who threw me a line and drew me in until he had me where he wanted me?”
“But he didn’t use you, did he?”
Amber frowned. “What do you mean? Of course he did!”
Maddy leaned forward and put her hand over Amber’s. “No, I mean, he intended to, I don’t dispute that, but he didn’t in the end, did he? I mean, he came clean and told you everything.”
“
And you think that’s okay?”
Maddy pulled a face. “Not exactly, but–”
“No ‘buts’ about it! How can I ever trust him again?”
“Maybe by what his actions say about him, rather than his words? See what he does next. I’ve heard he’s gone into business with Rob.”
“Rob? Who told you that?”
“Gabe saw Rob last night.”
“He didn’t say anything to me!” Amber was annoyed that Rob hadn’t thought to say anything to her about it.
“Maybe Rob doesn’t know about you and David.”
“Maybe,” said Amber doubtfully. “But, even so. Why is David working with Rob? Rob is into heritage buildings.”
“Maybe David has had a change of heart.”
Before Amber could respond, the door burst open and Gabe planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek, a pat on her stomach and grabbed a cup of coffee. “Amber!” He greeted her before downing half his coffee. He looked from one to the other. “What’s going on? Have I missed something? You’re both looking thoughtful, which is always dangerous.”
Maddy grinned and gave Gabe a hug. “Sure is. Amber and I are going into business together.”
Both Amber and Gabe looked up in surprise.
“We’re going to buy the café. Amber’s going to continue to do what she’s so brilliant at—be the person who everyone comes to see and chat with—the village hub. And I’ll do what I’m so ‘brilliant’ at.” She tapped her laptop. “Create magic with my spreadsheets. I’ll do the behind-the-scenes stuff and Amber will do the front of house stuff. It’ll be a marriage made in heaven.”
Gabe chucked her under her chin and kissed her. “That’s what we have.”
Amber groaned and took her empty cup to the sink. “I’m out of here. Thanks, Maddy. I think it’ll be brilliant. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” Amber plucked her bag from the chair and walked away from the kissing couple. “See you, then.”
She didn’t get a reply.
David looked around the packed museum. He saw Amber immediately, surrounded by her friends and family. His spirits dropped. He’d hoped he’d be able to exchange at least a few words with her, but knew that penetrating the force field that was her family would take more than his courage. But she’d see. Later, she’d see. She had to.