The Summer Sisters

by Lilly Mirren

  After both plates were clean, and they’d finished a second cup of coffee each, Josh yawned. He covered his mouth with a fist, but Bindi smiled. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m really enjoying spending time with you, but I haven’t slept in a while.”

  “It’s fine, of course. I can’t even imagine doing night shifts, I’m so hopeless at missing sleep. If I don’t get enough sleep, I’m like a bear with a sore head.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know. I’ll make a note of that: get Bindi to bed on time.”

  Intense blue eyes fixed on hers, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine. He was flirting with her, and she couldn’t help liking it. He was the most attractive man she’d ever been on a date with, and something about the uniform took it to a new level.

  Still, she had to stay strong. She’d already made a decision about dating — she might feel good in that moment, but she wasn’t well. She needed all her energy and attention to fight the illness. And besides, it wouldn’t be fair on Josh to start a relationship with the words, “I have cancer” on her lips. If he walked away, he’d be a jerk. And if he didn’t, he’d be stuck with her through the treatments…and what if she didn’t make it? What if it all went wrong? No, it wouldn’t be right to put him in that situation.

  Josh drove her home and they chatted and flirted the whole way. By the time they reached the inn, Bindi was wishing they could keep driving, keep talking. She’d had such a nice time with him, she didn’t want it to end.

  He climbed out and opened her door, then took her hand and walked with her up the stairs. They stood on the verandah together in silence a moment. He wove his fingers through hers, met her gaze with a look that sucked the air from her lungs and set her heart racing.

  “Bindi…” he began, his voice low.

  “I have to talk to you about something,” she interrupted, her words coming out all breathy and broken.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Okay? What is it?”

  She tugged her hand free of his and stood with both hands pressed firmly to the top railing. If she kept them there, she’d be safe from the tingles that ran up and down the length of her arms when he held her hands. She inhaled a slow breath. “You’re a really great guy…”

  “Uh huh.”

  “But I’m not looking for a relationship right now. It’s not personal, I like you a lot, but I have some things going on in my life that need my complete attention. I’m sorry.”

  She faced him, steeling herself to keep her resolve in spite of the way he was looking at her.

  He smiled. “I understand. Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her cheek, lingering several long moments, his breath warming her skin and sending sparks of heat through her body. “Let me know when you’re ready for more,” he whispered against her hair.

  Then he was gone. His car pulled out of the driveway with a six-cylinder growl, and soon disappeared.

  Bindi leaned against the wall of the inn with a groan and covered her face with both hands. She slapped her forehead once with the palm of her hand, her entire body alive with warmth, longing for him to hold her, kiss her. But he was gone, and it was her own doing. She groaned again, pushed off the wall and walked into the inn.

  Of course she had to find the most perfect guy in the world now. Now, when she was sick and fighting for her life, and couldn’t go out with him. She’d pushed him away; he wouldn’t understand why. She might never see him again, although living in a small community like Cabarita Beach, that didn’t seem likely. Still, he probably wouldn’t ask her out again. He seemed perfect, most likely was perfect, and now he was gone.

  13

  June 1944

  Abruzzi Apennines, Italy

  The truck crawled along the narrow double-track dirt road away from the farm. Charlie pulled back the canvas that covered the rear entrance to the truck bed and peered out. Bruno stood with one hand raised, in front of the cottage. Sheep milled about him, and the dog sat regal by his side. Behind him, the cottage stood dark against the mountainside, no light shone within, no smoke breathed from its stout chimney.

  Something inside Charlie shifted, grew heavy. What were they doing? They were leaving the only home he knew, the only place he was safe. It felt as though they were moving directly into the path of a wolf. The Wehrmacht was everywhere, according to Bruno. He’d heard rumours from neighbours who’d visited town more recently that the Germans had been scooping up all the prisoners who’d escaped from a prison they called Campo 78. Bruno figured Charlie must’ve come from there, since he had no weapon or supplies, only the clothes on his back, when they found him lying prone, bleeding into the earth.

  Charlie had asked if anyone had been with him, and Bruno had given a sad nod. There were bodies, no one living. Even Charlie had seemed dead at first, until he’d groaned. They’d buried the rest of the men and had almost thrown Charlie in with them but for that single noise uttered from a parched throat. It’d given him a fright Bruno had said with a chuckle. Made him almost jump out of his skin, a dead man groaning that way.

  The truck bumped and jolted along the rock-strewn trail, jostling Charlie where he sat on a barrel in the back. It turned a corner and Bruno was lost from view. Would he be lonely up there on the mountain with only the dog for company?

  Charlie scanned the back of the truck, his gaze roving over the various cartons, boxes and barrels stacked all around him. Maria sat up front with their neighbour, Signor Barese. She was visiting her uncle outside Casoli, it made sense. The Australian soldier didn’t have any good reason to be there, so he was hidden away behind barrels and crates of produce, on their way to be sold at market in Casoli.

  The canvas had swung back into place now and all he could see was the dark insides of the truck’s bed. The vehicle rolled to one side, then another as it crept over rocks, up hillsides, and down slopes. Finally, when he felt as though his teeth couldn’t take any more of the jerking, rolling climb, the truck settled into a steady pace. They’d reached the road.

  The roar of the engine grew as the vehicle accelerated, and Charlie relaxed against a bag of dried beans, grateful for smooth, sweeping road. He must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he realised, he was jolted awake by the truck coming to a stop.

  He straightened in place and listened intently. Had they reached Maria’s uncle’s place already? Just then, someone shouted in German, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. He couldn’t say how, but for some reason he understood the words. He must’ve learned German in the life he no longer recalled.

  “Attention!” the voice shouted again. “Step out of your vehicle.”

  His pulse raced and his breath caught in his throat as he squirmed down low behind a barrel of olives. He glanced around himself frantically and rested on an old blanket Barese had given him for warmth during the journey. He tugged on the worn woollen fabric and pulled it to cover every part of himself with the scratchy and stiff blanket.

  The front door of the truck slammed shut and footsteps echoed on the tarmac beside the vehicle. Charlie raised himself to his haunches, slow and steady, careful not to make a sound. He blinked in the pitch black, his entire body bristled, ready to leap from his hiding place, to fight.

  Voices came close, speaking to each other in German. One laughed, another followed it. Then, he could hear Barese’s voice asking if the soldiers were having a good day, and did they like strawberries, because he had some that were delicious.

  The soldiers seemed to warm to that idea and the tone of their voices changed, became more jovial, conversational. They moved towards the back of the truck and Charlie tensed as light flooded through the open canvas flaps.

  “Here they are,” said Barese in German.

  There was silence for a few moments, but for the occasional murmur of pleasure and smacking of lips.

  Then, a booming voice. “What else do you have here?”

  “Some olives, grains, vegetables and cured meats.”

&nbs
p; “Where are you going?” asked the soldier.

  “There’s a market in Casoli.”

  The soldiers joked together about the last time they’d eaten a strawberry or even had a decent meal, and Charlie waited while Barese pulled boxes and bags of food from the back of the truck and handed them to the soldiers.

  “We have to search the vehicle,” said a voice.

  Charlie’s heart dropped.

  Another voice interrupted the first. “But we can see that you’re hiding nothing. Carry on. Heil Hitler.”

  Barese murmured his thanks even as the back of the truck was thrown once again into darkness. A door slammed again, then the truck’s engine roared to life and the vehicle swayed as it pulled away from the checkpoint.

  Charlie dropped onto his rear, his heart hammering. The breath he’d been holding tight in his throat released and he covered his face with both hands. That’d been close.

  When they reached the farm, it was growing dark. The air was cool, and the wind whistled through a crack in the truck bed making Charlie shiver. He’d kept the blanket wrapped around himself ever since they passed through the checkpoint and was grateful for it now.

  The truck’s engine switched off after a brief sojourn down a winding track of some kind and the quiet of a countryside evening enveloped him. A cock crowed, and in the distance a few sheep bleated in a kind of harmony.

  The truck doors creaked open, slammed shut. Someone banged a hand on the side.

  “Out you get,” said Barese’s voice in Italian.

  Charlie climbed slowly from his hiding place, working the kinks out of his back and legs. He stumbled forwards with legs almost numb from being folded in the cold for so long and climbed out through the canvas flaps.

  Maria was there. She smiled and took his hand in hers to squeeze it for a moment. Then, the family was there. Maria embraced her uncle Angelo, and his wife, Catriona. A throng of children, ranging in age from two years old to about twelve, surrounded her, all talking at once, all wanting to know everything that’d happened in her life since the last time they saw her.

  Charlie smiled as she kissed each one, exclaiming over a homespun garment or a rag doll as she gave every child her undivided attention for a few moments. He stood in the background, unsure of what to say. He didn’t understand much of what was being said, they were talking fast and over top of each other, using colloquialisms he didn’t know.

  Finally, the conversation slowed, and Maria stepped back to stand beside him. “This is Charlie,” she said.

  Angelo held out a hand and shook Charlie’s firmly, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so much like Bruno it warmed Charlie to him immediately, though he was much younger.

  “Welcome,” he said. “We are glad to have you here.”

  “Thank you so much for allowing us to stay with you,” Charlie said.

  Then Catriona welcomed him with kisses to each cheek, and the children stood in a solemn line to shake his hand. When each had taken their turn, they ran off towards the house squealing and laughing.

  Charlie thanked their neighbour, who deposited their single small suitcase at Charlie’s feet, shook his hand with a nod and was gone.

  They fell into the bustling life of early mornings, hard work, and more plentiful food quickly at the farm. It wasn’t as quiet as it’d been living in the mountain cottage, but Charlie enjoyed the interactions with Maria’s family, especially the children whose noise filled the air and brought warmth to the farmhouse.

  He ate everything he could get his hands on, his appetite seemed unending, now that there was enough food for everyone.

  Charlie helped Angelo with the chores and Maria stayed mostly inside the house with her aunt. After a few days, a priest showed up at the house unannounced and married them in a quiet ceremony in the quaint farmhouse’s small, dark living room. The priest looked tired, with dark smudges beneath his eyes. He finished the vows in Italian, said a few more words Charlie didn’t comprehend, shook hands quietly all around and left.

  When Charlie’s gaze met Maria’s, she grinned, her eyes gleaming.

  “We are married,” she said, in halting English.

  He laughed. “Well, how about that.”

  Charlie found he liked married life even more than he’d expected he would. He whistled about his work, thinking of Maria more than what he was doing, so that Angelo often had to reprimand him. But he did so with a grin on his face.

  “Love,” Angelo said. “I remember what it is like to be so young and in love. It is the thing that holds all the world together.” Then, he’d slap Charlie on the shoulder and tell him to concentrate on what he was doing.

  Sometimes when he was lying next to Maria in their narrow, hard bed at night, he thought about his old life. Wondered what it must’ve been like, who his family was, if perhaps he should’ve tried to find his unit after all instead of building a new life for himself.

  He comforted himself with the knowledge that at least there was no wife or children waiting for him, since there was no ring on his finger and from a glimpse of his face in a mirror on the wall of the farmhouse, he guessed his age to be around twenty. Surely, he couldn’t have married by such a young age? No, he was bound to have some kind of recollection of such an event. It seemed to him this was the first time he’d said the vows that tied him to Maria for life. It wasn’t the kind of thing a person could easily forget. Though of course, he didn't remember anything about his former life.

  A few days later, Maria coloured his blonde hair with something her aunt gave her that stained the water and turned his hair a dusky shade of brown. Maria laughed when she’d towelled it dry, and said he looked like a stranger to her now. He’d grabbed her up in his arms, tickled her until tears streaked her cheeks and then kissed them all away.

  Whatever his life had been, this was his life now. Dwelling on things he couldn’t remember or control wouldn’t help him. He was happy. Content in his new life. He pushed the concerns of what he might’ve left behind out of his mind and focused on the present, the future with his new family. How could he return to a life he didn’t know? To a role in an army he didn’t remember, to a family who might or might not exist? He couldn’t do that, not when Maria was here by his side, warm and inviting. Not when he had a place, a home, a hearth, and a family who’d welcomed him in with open arms.

  They stayed at the farm. Maria often went to town with her aunt, and Angelo took produce to the market. But Charlie stayed out of sight. They didn’t need people talking, Angelo had said. So Charlie hid in the barn whenever guests called at the farmhouse and spent the rest of his days working with the sheep, or in the barn or fields. It was a good life, hard work and lonely at times when the family was all at mass without him or visiting a neighbour. Those were the moments when he couldn’t keep thoughts of his past from returning. But when the house was full, with children laughing, playing, and arguing, and with Maria smiling up at him, he was happy.

  14

  December 1996

  Cabarita Beach

  The words on the page blurred as Bindi’s mind wandered. She couldn’t get into her book, no matter how long she sat there in the hospital waiting room trying. She wondered if Duncan was working. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure what part of the hospital he worked in, and even if she knew, he might be in surgery. There wasn’t much point in looking for him. Still, she could do with a walk. Anything to take her attention away from the fact that she was waiting for a treatment.

  The hospital was running behind schedule today, and she’d arrived early for her appointment as well. All which meant she’d been sitting in the waiting room for ten minutes so far and might be there for a lot longer yet if the line of patients waiting with her was any indication.

  With a sigh she glanced around the room. The walls were lined with blue, plastic cushioned chairs. Each white wall held a nondescript painting of some kind. Everything smelled of disinfectant.

  The waiting room was next to the em
ergency room. So at least there was a steady stream of injured patients coming in through the large double doors to keep her occupied. So far, they’d had a kid with a broken leg, an elderly woman who’d had a fall and was pushed through the doors in a wheelchair, and a teenager who’d gotten something in his eye. The boy sat now, hand over his eye, staring at something in his lap.

  In another room, the girl with the broken leg screamed, then sobbed.

  Bindi’s heart ached and her eyes smarted with tears. She didn’t know how emergency staff managed to deal with all the pain and suffering they handled on a daily basis. She was too tender hearted to be able to hear a kid shout in pain without crying too.

  She opened the book again, stared at the black words typed on the page. They blurred, and she sighed. It’d been three weeks since her lunch date with Josh Owens. Every time she slowed down her thoughts returned to him. Had she made the right choice by putting distance between them? She hadn’t heard from him since and was more disappointed than she should’ve been by that. After all, it’d been her choice. Had she hoped maybe he would ignore what she’d said? She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. No, this time in her life was for healing, not for beginning a new relationship.

  The emergency room doors banged open again, and she looked up. Who was it this time?

  Two police officers walked through the doors, flanking a man with blood streaming down one arm. A nurse rushed to greet them and took the man into a small room with the officers close behind. One of them had blonde hair, tanned skin.