The Summer Sisters

by Lilly Mirren

  He picked up the map and studied it, finding the place he’d circled with a fingertip. Just a few turns and he’d be at Sylvia’s house. He started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

  Stefano and his wife were travelling around Australia and planned to settle down in Brisbane when they were done. He’d decided to let them go backpacking on their own. He had no desire to sleep in bunks with strangers next to him any longer, he’d done enough of that in the war years. Besides, what he really wanted to do was visit his old neighbourhood. He’d meet up again with them in Brisbane when they were done.

  Sylvia’s house was a pale brick two story building set back from the street with a short driveway that led to a two-car garage. The garden looked as though it’d once been well taken care of, but now the hedges were overgrown, and the garden beds pockmarked with weeds.

  He climbed out of the car with one hand tented over his eyes against the glare of the sun. He’d missed the Australian sun and had forgotten how savage it could be. How bright it made everything, stealing away colours, and burning all it touched. Would Sylvia be here?

  She finally answered the door after he’d stood in the heat knocking for several long minutes. She threw her arms around him, almost bowling him over.

  “Charlie!” she cried, her eyes immediately brimming with tears.

  He smiled through his own blurred vision. She led him into the house, shutting the door behind him. It was cooler inside, if only slightly, and two small dogs yapped at his feet until he stooped to pet them.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be. I’ve been calling…kept getting your answering machine.”

  Confusion flitted across her face and her eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

  Then she smiled again, her familiar blue eyes sparkling. “It’s so good to see you. I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

  She slid her arm through his and together they walked through a cosy living room into a spacious and bright kitchen.

  He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “It is very good to be home. I had no idea I’d be gone so long when I left for the war.”

  She fell silent a moment, her smile fading. “Me neither. I missed you more than I thought possible.”

  His throat ached. “Me too.”

  “I see you’ve brought me a bun,” she said, voice brightening. “I love those buns, haven’t had one in years. Come on, I’ll put on the kettle.”

  She made tea and they sat together in the dining room, eating iced buns, and talking over the years apart. She was happy, it seemed, to be living in her hometown again.

  “You must’ve made friendships in Sydney that were hard to give up,” he suggested. “Wasn’t it difficult to move away, back here, where you haven’t lived since you were a girl?”

  She nodded in agreement. “You’re right, it was difficult. But I found Sydney a bit too much lately. The traffic, the people bustling everywhere. I caught the train a few times and forgot to get off at my station, found myself lost and alone in strange towns at the end of the track… I don’t know. I think I’m getting too old for a city like Sydney. All the noise, the traffic. It’s overwhelming.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re still young yet.”

  She snorted. “Doesn’t feel that way, sometimes.”

  One of the dogs stood at the sliding glass door that led to the back porch, barking. She got up with a sigh and slid the door open. The dog raced out and she closed it again. The other dog lay on the floor by Charlie’s feet, raised its head a moment, then settled back onto the floor.

  “So, your son is travelling?” asked Sylvia, returning to her seat.

  He nodded, sipping his tea. “We’ll meet up in Brisbane.”

  “That sounds good. What was his name again?”

  “Stefano,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Such a nice name.”

  “We named him after a boy who helped rescue me during the war.”

  “Well, how about that. What a wonderful idea.” Her eyes shone.

  They talked for a few more minutes about what had changed in Bathurst, who still lived there, and which businesses had closed. Then, the dog returned to scratch on the glass door with one paw.

  Sylvia’s brow furrowed. She lumbered to the door and slid it open. “Now how did you get outside, you naughty dog?”

  “You let him out,” said Charlie. “Don’t you remember, only five minutes ago?”

  Sylvia thought a moment, her eyes looking blank. “Well, I guess I must’ve.” Then she settled back into her chair with a grunt. “And where will you go after you’ve seen everything you want in Bathurst?”

  “I’m heading to Brisbane, to meet up with Stefano,” he said.

  “Oh, that sounds nice.”

  He studied his sister, a realisation dawning. She wasn’t well. That was why she hadn’t returned his phone calls or replied to his letters. She was struggling with her memory; it was clear enough to him now.

  He pushed a smile onto his face. “So, tell me about what’s been happening with our old house. I drove past it on the way here, and it looks like someone’s tried to tack on a second story.”

  She sighed, rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it? I mean, really — if you want a double story house, buy one. Why would you buy a quaint old single story and build another level on top of it? I wish I had the money to buy it out from under them so I could keep it the way it is, but I suppose everything changes whether we want it to or not.”

  22

  January 1997

  Cabarita Beach

  Nyreeda Houston squinted at the large paper sheet spread out across her dining table. She smoothed out a wrinkle with one palm then pressed her hands to her hips.

  The plans for the new restaurant at the inn were coming along nicely. She’d added a few touches here and there and was working closely with the architect to make sure it was everything she, Kate, and Bindi were hoping it would be. Kate was in charge of the kitchen plans, but the architect had asked Reeda to oversee the restaurant area and she was excited to take it on.

  Ever since she and Duncan had left Sydney and moved to Cabarita, she’d been itching to get her hands on a juicy project, and this was it. As ideas flitted through her mind, she reached for a magazine, tore out a page, and set it on the table beside the plans. She wanted to decorate the restaurant with a Hamptons feel, in white with blue and silver accents.

  Footsteps on the staircase outside their unit caught her attention. Then, a key turned in the lock. Duncan was home.

  She flashed back to a memory of the dread she’d felt when they lived in Sydney the year before and she’d heard the garage door open to announce his arrival home. Back then, she hadn’t been excited to see him, knowing that his presence would result in an argument, or him seated on the couch ignoring her. Now, everything was different. After her summer in Italy, they’d reconciled and changed their lives to rebuild the kind of marriage they both wanted.

  When he walked in through the door, her heart leapt at the sight of him. She strode over to him and kissed him full on the mouth before he could set down his surgical bag.

  “Welcome home,” she whispered.

  He grinned. “What was that for?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he replied, dropping his surgical bag, and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him.

  “Did you have a good trip?” she asked.

  His eyes sparked and he headed for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “The Congo was amazing. We went into this village, and the hospital… I mean they called it that, but it wasn’t like any hospital I’ve ever seen before… It was full of patients. All lined up waiting for us, Doctor’s Without Borders — the only doctors they’ll see in a long time.”

  She sat at the bench and rested her chin in her hands. “Were you able to help them?”

  “Most of them,” he replied with a shrug. “We did wh
at we could. Some, we could only bandage up and wish them well, but a lot of them had treatable illnesses. We did surgeries for twelve hours a day… I’m absolutely exhausted.” He grinned, looking more vitalised than she’d seen in a long time.

  “You seem happy,” she said.

  He smiled. “I am. It was so good to be able to help those people. They have nothing, no money to pay us with, nothing but their health. So, when that goes, it has a huge impact on their lives. I mean, that’s true of everyone, really. But we have hospitals, doctors, surgeries, in-home nurses…they don’t have any of that. I mean, we didn’t even have enough pain relief or lighting for the surgeries we performed. It was challenging in a way I’ve never dealt with before.”

  “And you loved it!” chuckled Reeda.

  He gulped a mouthful of water. “And I loved it.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” she replied. “I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

  “No, you don’t,” he quipped. “There was no air-conditioning.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what you think of me, Mr. Houston, but I’m not that kind of girl. I can rough it when I choose to.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “You can? I’d like to see that.”

  She strode around the bench to him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll prove it to you. One day…”

  “Okay, one day you can show me just how tough you are, how outdoorsy and carefree.”

  “But not today.”

  “That’s fine with me, because I could do with a shower and a nap.” He winked.

  “You go do that, and I’ll make us some food.”

  Reeda buzzed around their small kitchen, throwing together a pair of turkey, tomato, and lettuce sandwiches with a generous slather of mayonnaise on the slices of fresh sourdough bread she’d bought from their local bakery that morning.

  The sounds of the shower echoed down the hall, along with her husband’s deep voice. He sang the chorus of a popular song, reaching for the high notes and not quite making it. She grinned at the sound. She couldn’t remember the last time Duncan had sung in the shower. With everything that’d happened between them in the past few years, trying to get pregnant, going through IVF treatments, and almost losing each other in the process, she was grateful for every off-key note issuing from the bathroom.

  She set the sandwiches on the dining table, along with two glasses of iced water, and then returned her attention to the architectural plans. The plans showed the entire inn along with the surrounding gardens. In the back, the outline of a lagoon-shaped pool caught her eye. She hadn’t been keen on the idea of adding a swimming pool to the inn, but when she’d brought up her objections in a recent meeting with her sisters, Bindi had laid out a thoroughly researched and well thought-through justification for the addition. She couldn’t fault her sister’s logic, or the maturity of her approach.

  Bindi was certainly not the young girl she remembered. She’d grown into a confident, thoughtful woman. Reeda’s throat tightened. She hated what her sister had been through. Whenever anything went wrong — in the family, in her work — she was the one who leapt to the rescue. She’d dive in and do whatever she could to save the day. But this time, she hadn’t been able to do that. Bindi’s illness wasn’t something she could overcome or bluster her way through. She could only be there for her sister, and that was something she struggled with. She wasn’t one to show a lot of emotion, or to stand idly by offering platitudes and affection.

  She slumped back on the sofa, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. Tears stung her eyes. Why was she upset? The doctor had given Bindi good news, great news in fact. It made no sense. She’d held it together for most of Bindi’s treatments. Now she was crying? She shook her head in an attempt to shake away the tears. Bindi was going to be okay. The relief of that thought only made her throat ache more.

  Duncan strode into the room, whistling. His wet hair clung to his head and his muscular arms bulged in a white T-shirt above a pair of soft, athletic shorts.

  “Whatcha doing?” he asked.

  He sat on the arm of the sofa to peer at the plans.

  “Looking over the design for the new restaurant at the inn. Bindi thinks we should add a swimming pool as well, become a true luxury holiday destination. They’re starting construction on it next week.”

  He nodded. “Great idea. How’s she going, by the way?”

  “She’s good.” Reeda swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Doctor Ash says she’s in complete remission and could very well stay that way.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened. “That’s wonderful!”

  Reeda’s eyes filled with tears. He slid onto the couch beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I didn’t cry while she was sick, but now she’s well, and I’m crying…there’s something wrong with me.”

  He kissed her forehead and held her tighter. “Nothing’s wrong with you. I guess you’ve been holding it in a little too much, huh?”

  She nodded, and her vision was blurred with tears. “It’s been such an emotional rollercoaster ride. We tried to get pregnant for so many years and couldn’t, then we almost lost each other. Nan died, and Bindi got sick. I don’t know if I can take much more…” Her voice broke off into a wail.

  Duncan rocked her a little as he held her close. “It’s a lot to deal with. You’ve been so strong, but sometimes you have to let it out. Emotions need to be expressed, or else they’ll burst out at the strangest times.”

  He winked and she couldn’t help smiling even as the tears fell.

  “Do you think we’re going to be okay?” she asked.

  His lips pursed. “I do.”

  “Even though we can’t have a baby, and it’s only going to be us two, possibly for the rest of our lives?” She blinked away the tears, studying his face.

  He smiled. “Yes. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m happy. And I think you are too, apart from Bindi’s recent illness.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She nodded, wiping her eyes dry with the back of her hand. “And I think you’re right. I think we’re going to be okay.”

  He squeezed her once.

  “I’ve gotten used to the idea.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “I mean, of no kids. For so long I wanted them, desperately needed them, in my life. I think it was because of the idea I had in my head of how my family should look. After we lost Mum and Dad, I drifted away from Nan and my sisters. I didn’t have that kind of family. Even when I met you and we got married, it didn’t feel like enough. But now… I’ve got you and my sisters back, along with Mima and Jack, and the inn…you’re my family, and this whole thing is what I’ve been longing for without even realising it.”

  “Is this enough for you?” asked Duncan, sweeping a hand around above his head.

  “You mean this apartment? Because I’ve got plans for a house near the beach…” she began.

  He grunted. “No, I mean this life.”

  She snuggled against his side with a sniffle. “This life is perfect.”

  23

  September 1981

  Brisbane

  The black conveyor belt sprang to life with a jerk, then smoothly slid in a snake-like curve away from him. Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the faces of the passengers emerging through the gates in dribs and drabs.

  Then, Stefano and his wife Amara were there. They were thin, tanned, and smiling from ear to ear.

  He embraced them both, kissing cheeks and slapping backs. Joy bubbled up within him at the sight of them.

  “Did you have a good trip?” he asked.

  “The best! We both learned to surf.”

  “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “Nothing stopping you now, Papa.”

  “Nothing but ageing bones,” he countered with a wry smile.

  They looked for the couple’s backpacks, and Charlie helped carry eve
rything to his waiting truck.

  He’d moved to Brisbane two months earlier, found a unit to rent and bought himself a Holden truck. It was strange to drive on the left side of the road, but he was getting the hang of it. At least, he hadn’t had any accidents yet. He had managed to hit the curb a few times with his left front wheel, but otherwise, the change had been easy enough to make. At least people drove at a sensible speed in Australia, unlike on the highways of Italy.

  They drove to Indooroopilly, where Charlie’s unit was located. He helped them upstairs and into the guest room he’d prepared for them ahead of time. Then, he went to the kitchen to make coffee. He knew his son well enough to know that he’d be dying for a decent espresso after months spent travelling around Australia. He’d developed a taste for the thick, black brew himself during his time in Italy. So, one of his first purchases after he’d moved in, was an espresso machine.

  He gazed out the window while he waited for the coffee to percolate. The dark red flowers of a poinciana tree blazed just beyond his small balcony. The hum of traffic was a constant reminder of the city beyond the sliding glass doors.

  Freshly showered and dressed, Stefano and Amara wandered into the kitchen and sat at the small dining table he’d found at a nearby garage sale. He set a small cup in front of each of them, smiling as Stefano’s gaze settled on his cup and his forehead creased.

  “Espresso?”

  “I knew you’d be dying for one.”

  Stefano’s face shone. “There’s no good coffee in this country.”

  Charlie filled his own cup with the brew and sat across from his son.