Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  As she hugged Zoe, Molly whispered into her ear, “No need to ask why you’re so dressed up.”

  Zoe turned her head away, feeling the prickle of heat creeping up her neck. “I always dress nice for Sunday lunch.”

  “Yes, but you don’t always iron,” Molly joked, poking Zoe on the shoulder. She turned to Georgia. “You go on outside with the boys. I need Zoe to help me in the kitchen.”

  “Are you sure I can’t give you a hand with anything?” Georgia asked, but Molly swatted her outside.

  “You’re our guest. Go and get Jack to get you a cold drink.”

  Georgia smiled at Zoe, making Zoe’s heart skip a beat, and then headed outside.

  As soon as she was gone, Molly grabbed Zoe by the arm and dragged her into the hallway. “What on earth is going on? And don’t you dare tell me nothing, because look at you.”

  Zoe knew she may as well ‘fess up because Molly would pull it out of her eventually. “Georgia kissed me.”

  “What? You two kissed?” Molly asked, mouth agape.

  “Shh,” Zoe said, peeking around the corner to make sure no-one was listening. “We didn’t kiss, she kissed me.”

  “How is that different?”

  “Last night as I was leaving her room—”

  “Oh, my God, you were in her room? Zoe! Jack’s going to kill you!”

  “You were the one hinting at me having dinner with her,” Zoe said.

  “Dinner, Zo, not sex!”

  “Shh! We didn’t—“ Zoe lowered her voice to a whisper. “Will you just let me talk?”

  “Sorry,” Molly said, and then stood and crossed her arms. If Zoe made her wait any longer, Molly might even start tapping her foot.

  “I dropped her home after we finished at the workshop and she invited me in. We ate your spaghetti and we talked. That’s it.”

  “Talked about what?”

  “Stuff. And then when I left, she kissed me.”

  “On the mouth?”

  Zoe nodded. “But I’m not sure she meant to.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  Zoe had replayed last night over and over in her head so many times, it was hard to know what was real anymore. “I turned my head and our lips sort of, just…” She pushed the palms of her hands together in an attempt to explain. “Smushed.”

  “Smushed?”

  “Smushed,” Zoe confirmed.

  “That’s it?” Molly asked.

  Zoe’s shoulders sagged. “I knew I was reading too much into it.” She went to walk back to the kitchen, but Molly grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  “Did you ask her about it?” Molly asked.

  “Of course I bloody didn’t. I’m not an idiot,” Zoe said. “Look, can we just have lunch.”

  “You obviously like her, judging by how much effort you went to today,” Molly said, waving her arms over Zoe like she was a prize on a game show. When Zoe didn’t answer her, Molly pressed. “Don’t you?”

  Zoe hadn’t realised it was a question. “She’s alright, I suppose,” she admitted to Molly. It was the first time she’d admitted it to herself.

  There was a noise in the kitchen and they both froze. Molly peered around the door, and Zoe peered around Molly. It was Nick, rifling through a drawer. They waited for a moment, and finally he found what he was looking for, a bottle opener, and walked out.

  Molly turned back to Zoe. “Just don’t tell Jack about this. You know what Jack thinks about you fraternising with clients.”

  “She kissed me, remember?” Zoe said. “And anyway, this is different.”

  Zoe waited for the inevitable warning that she thought was coming, but it never did. Instead, Molly pointed her finger and said, “Just be careful. I don’t want to see you getting your heart broken all over again.”

  “But you were encouraging it,” Zoe said, frowning.

  Molly waved her away. “I thought a little fling might do you good.”

  “I don’t do flings,” Zoe replied.

  “I know,” she said, a look of concern clouding her face. Then she shook her head. “Just, don’t be stupid about it.”

  “Like I said, there’s nothing happening,” Zoe countered.

  “Not yet,” Molly said, and pulled Zoe back out to the kitchen.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Georgia got to see a totally different side to Zoe during lunch. At work, Zoe was serious and professional, but around her family, she seemed to be completely different. Goofy, even, especially with Ryan and Josie. Georgia had laughed watching Zoe chase her niece and nephew around the yard, playing football, and then falling to the ground, letting them tackle her. Zoe was obviously close to her family, that much was true.

  Georgia felt a small stab of sadness that she didn’t have the same with her own family. An only child, by the time her father died, Georgia hadn’t seen him in well over a year. He just always seemed to have other things to do whenever she wanted to see him, so she’d stopped trying. Seeing the way Zoe and her family interacted, knowing that they lost their parents so young, made Georgia realise that she should have made more of an effort with her dad.

  “The cottage is coming together,” Molly said, leaning back in her chair cradling her wine glass in two hands.

  “It’s almost done,” Georgia replied. “You should come up and have a look. Zoe’s done an amazing job.”

  Jack smiled. “I’m glad about that. She can be a bit pedantic about old houses. Loves the history of them.”

  Georgia looked across to the yard where Zoe and Nick were teaching the kids how to kick the football off a tee. “She doesn’t like throwing things away, that’s for sure.”

  Jack chuckled. “She takes after our old man, except she’s a bit more organised than he was.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to sell it when it’s done,” Molly said.

  Georgia looked down at her wine glass. She had started wondering the same thing lately. The first time she saw the cottage, run down and sad, she could have gladly bulldozed it and sold the land, but the more it came together, under the careful eye of Zoe, the more she realised what Amy’s dream of a much simpler life had meant. “I know, but I just can’t afford to keep it unfortunately.”

  “Such a shame,” Molly said, shaking her head. “I was telling Zoe the other day—”

  “Telling me what?” Zoe asked as she skipped up the steps onto the deck and dropped down into a chair beside Georgia.

  “That you should buy the cottage,” Molly said.

  Zoe glanced at Georgia and rolled her eyes. “Molly just wants her granny flat back.”

  “You live here?” Georgia asked.

  Zoe nodded to the shed out the back. “Converted the back part of the shed a few years ago. In-built baby-sitter.” She winked and turned back to Molly. “If you wanted to kick me out, you just have to say so.”

  Molly tossed a tea towel across the table. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” she laughed. “And anyway, that cottage and the sheds out the back would be perfect for the plans you had for your classes—”

  Zoe held up her hand. “That’s all on the back burner now, Mol. And anyway, Georgia doesn’t want to hear about any of that.”

  “Yes, I do. What plans?”

  “They’re not important,” Zoe said, throwing Molly a look, but Molly either ignored it or didn’t take the hint.

  “Zoe had this big idea to create a program for troubled kids,” Molly said.

  “That was years ago,” Zoe said, shaking her head.

  “Yes, but the cottage would be perfect for it. You should look into it again,” Molly said.

  Georgia glanced at Zoe, who was picking the label off her beer bottle with her fingernails. This woman seemed to be full of interesting surprises. There was certainly much more to her than the gruff, bad-tempered builder she portrayed to the outside world. “That’s amazing,” she said. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I never finished my uni degree is why,” Zoe replied. />
  Georgia detected a hint of sadness in Zoe’s voice, and Jack shifted in his chair.

  “Zoe came home to help out in the business when our parents died and never went back,” Jack said.

  “And anyway, the workshop’s been sold now, so no more woodwork classes,” Zoe added. “And if Frank wouldn’t give me a loan to buy the workshop, he’s not going to give me a loan for the cottage.” She drained her beer and stood up and began collecting plates and dishes.

  Molly started to do the same but Georgia said, “I’ll help, Molly. You made such a wonderful lunch, at least let me wash up.”

  Molly glanced at Zoe as she passed and then nodded at Georgia. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Georgia replied as she stacked plates and cutlery and food dishes and carried them inside.

  Zoe was rinsing off plates and stacking the dishwasher when Georgia entered the kitchen. She placed the dishes on the counter. “No wonder Molly agreed to let me wash up. I didn’t know she had a dishwasher.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood that didn’t work. “Is everything okay?”

  Zoe continued rinsing off plates and stacking the dishwasher and seemed to just want to be alone.

  “I’m sorry,” Georgia said. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.” She turned to leave.

  Zoe let out a breath. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  Georgia walked around the bench and leaned back on it. “It’s obviously a sore point.”

  “I should get over it,” Zoe said. “It was eighteen years ago.” She shook her head. “I just… have you ever had a clear idea of where you were going, and then, just had it ripped from under you?”

  Georgia nodded. “I have. That’s what Amy’s death was. She had these grand plans for us and then she died, and the plans died with her.”

  “And then you just get stuck,” Zoe said, picking at her fingernails.

  Georgia hadn’t thought about it that way before. She’d never considered her life without Amy until she was gone. All her plans for the future had Amy in them, and for the first time she realised that maybe she’d been just going through the motions over the last few years. She could see so much of herself in Zoe, and although her plans weren’t anything like Zoe’s, she understood completely what it was like to have them ripped away. She reached out and took Zoe’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Maybe it’s time to rethink your plans,” Georgia said. Maybe it was time they both did.

  Something had definitely shifted between them, Georgia was sure of it now, and on the ride back to her motel, she felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. She hadn’t asked anything more about Zoe’s youth program plans, figuring that if Zoe wanted to tell her about them, she’d do it in her own time.

  The electricity zoomed between them as they walked to Georgia’s room, she could feel it. They were close enough to touch but didn’t, and just the thought of taking Zoe’s hand, like she’d done without thinking at Molly and Jack’s, sent a wave of excitement coursing through Georgia’s body. It was all she could do to stop herself from touching Zoe again.

  “Thank you for today,” Georgia said when they reached her room.

  “Any time,” Zoe replied. “Molly loves having people over.”

  “I could tell,” Georgia said with a smile.

  Zoe leaned on an awning post, smiling back at her, looking so kissable it was all Georgia could do to stop herself. And then Zoe stood up and stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

  “Do you… may I…?” Zoe said, her face inching closer to Georgia’s and before she could finish her sentence, Georgia stepped forward and pressed her lips to Zoe’s.

  Zoe’s arm snaked around Georgia’s waist, pulling her closer until their bodies touched from hips to chest and Georgia reached up and threaded her fingers through Zoe’s hair. This was what Georgia intended the night before, this warm, soft, slow kiss that sent shivers from her head to her toes.

  Zoe stopped abruptly and rested her forehead on Georgia’s. “I should get going.”

  “Really?” Georgia asked, breathless.

  “I’ve got some more stuff to do at the workshop.”

  “I could come and help,” Georgia offered.

  Zoe smiled and squeezed Georgia’s hand. “No offence, but I think you’d just be a distraction right now.”

  Georgia shook her head. “None taken.”

  Zoe stepped back. “I’ll pick you up in the morning?” she said as she backed away.

  “I’ll be here,” Georgia replied. She leaned on the awning post and watched Zoe walk away. “Those jeans,” she said to herself, “are definitely not work jeans.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Zoe and Georgia fell into a routine over the next few days, with Zoe picking Georgia up from her motel each morning, complete with breakfast rolls and coffees, and then teaching Georgia how to use the various power tools. It meant that when Nick was off practising his dancing and strutting for the Mister Elizabeth Creek competition, work didn’t slow down too much.

  Georgia had upped her flirting game too, stealing winks and kisses. Zoe was sure Nick would catch them at some point but she needn’t have worried. He was absolutely clueless. Zoe was standing on a trestle nailing chamfer to the wall when Georgia walked past and pinched her on the butt, and Nick was too busy measuring up the next piece of timber to even see it.

  Zoe jumped and turned around. “Hey! I could’ve nailed my hand to the wall.”

  Georgia just winked and kept walking.

  “You’ll keep,” Zoe called after her, and then had an idea. She handed the nail gun to Nick. “Finish off these ones. I’m going to the loo.”

  She jumped down off the trestle and headed to the shed, detouring via her ute, where she took her dad’s fake finger from the glove box. In the shed, she pulled the tomato sauce bottle from the lunch box and squirted a bit into her hand. When she got back to the Nick, she said, “Can you go grab some more nails?”

  Nick handed Zoe the nail gun and dropped down to the ground. Zoe waited until he’d turned the corner and then she set up her prank. She rubbed the tomato sauce on the end of the fake finger and then held it onto the board. As she shot a nail into it, she yelled and swore as loudly as she could.

  Nick was the first to come running. “You okay boss?”

  Zoe nodded. “Yeah, just got my finger, that’s all.”

  Nick took one look at the board with Zoe’s fake finger nailed to it, oozing tomato sauce, and went white. “I’ll go get Georgia,” he said, stumbling away.

  Zoe laughed at Nick’s squeamishness. She’d have to remember not to rely on him if she ever had a real accident.

  Georgia came barrelling around the corner and stopped dead at the bottom of the trestle. Nick hung back, his ashen face turning green.

  “Nick said you had an accident,” Georgia said, climbing up onto the trestle. “What happened?”

  Zoe pointed to her finger, trying to look like she was in pain. “Got my hand in the way.”

  Georgia pulled a face. “Nasty. Does it hurt?” She reached out to touch it but Zoe batted her away. “Sorry,” Georgia said. “What can I do?”

  “Grab my hammer out of my belt. We’ll need to pull it out,” Zoe said, hoping her wincing was convincing.

  Georgia nodded. “Nick? Go grab the first aid kit.”

  Zoe glanced at Nick, who was now bent over, his head between his knees. She tried desperately not to laugh. “I don’t think he can hear you.”

  Georgia climbed down from the trestle. “I’ll go get it myself. Be right back.”

  As Georgia rushed away, Zoe couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing. Georgia spun around. “Are you okay? Nick, I think she’s going into shock.”

  That made Zoe laugh even harder. She pulled her hand from the wall and wriggled her fingers. Nick almost fainted.

  “You two...hilarious,” Zoe wheezed, doubled over with laughter.

  “Are you okay?” Georgia asked.


  “Fine,” Zoe replied. “Perfectly fine. It’s a fake, see?” She dipped her finger in the tomato sauce and licked it. “Tomato sauce.”

  Nick almost threw up, sending Zoe into hysterics. He stood up and disappeared around the corner.

  Georgia, on the other hand, glared at Zoe, her arms crossed across her chest. “I can’t believe you thought that was funny.”

  Zoe took a few deep breaths to stop herself from laughing. When she saw the look on Georgia’s face, she wondered if she’d made a huge misjudgement about her sense of humour. To her relief, a smile spread across Georgia’s face and she shook her head and laughed.

  “You’re so going to pay for that,” she said. “But first, I think I better look after Nick.”

  Zoe giggled to herself as she pulled the nail out of the fake finger and wiped the tomato sauce off the chamfer. That reminded her, it was almost time for lunch.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Zoe called the day off early, which Georgia was pleased about. It meant they got to spend some time together at Zoe’s place taste-testing Molly’s baking for the show. Molly had decided to enter three categories – scones, custard slice and vanilla cupcakes.

  They’d eaten their way through three scones and two cupcakes each and were just about to try Molly’s custard slice.

  “This,” Zoe said as she divided the creamy slice into two and handed one to Georgia, “is the best custard slice you’ll have in your life.”

  “That’s a pretty big statement to make,” Georgia said, picking up her slice and taking a bite. She closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh. My. God.”

  “See?” Zoe said, grinning. “You can’t even get them that good at the bakery.”

  Georgia swallowed and took another bite. “If this doesn’t win, there’s something seriously wrong.”

  “The custard slice category is pretty fiercely contested,” Zoe said. She took a bite of her slice, the custard oozing out of the sides. She caught it with her hand. “First time Molly’s been able to enter, that’s how fierce the competition is.”