The Summer Sisters

by Lilly Mirren

  “Hear, hear,” replied Bindi, raising her glass.

  They all clinked their glasses together, then took a big swig of lemonade. Bindi’s heart swelled. She inhaled a long, slow breath. This was exactly the life she was made to live.

  25

  October 1981

  Cabarita Beach

  Sunshine warmed the top of Charlie’s head as he stood beside his truck, hands on hips, looking out across a dazzling, blue ocean. He’d never seen a beach like this before. Of course, he’d travelled to the Mediterranean with his family a number of times over the years, and it was beautiful. Stunning even, especially with a backdrop of lush cliffs and colourful villages. He’d been to Sydney Harbour and sailed from there to Africa. But nothing compared to the beaches at Cabarita.

  Long, golden sand curved in an arch towards a horizon that faded to a point in the distance. Gulls hovered overhead, calling in a melody that overlaid the steady rhythm of the waves crashing against the shoreline.

  He stood on a lookout that jutted from the beach, grass-covered and round. Below, black rocks held the ocean at bay, sending salt spray into the air that tickled the end of his nose like a light summer rainfall.

  He inhaled a long, slow breath, let his eyes drift shut as the sounds and smells of the lazy, slow day enveloped him.

  For so many years he’d worked hard to support his family, to build a life for him and Maria. He’d never taken time off, not more than a week or two for a family holiday. Since her death, he hadn’t returned to work, and he’d finally begun to unwind. The tension had left his shoulders and he was less irritable, more able to enjoy the moment. Part of that might’ve been the shock of dealing with his wife’s passing, but he knew it was also a result of rest. The kind of rest he’d needed for a long time. He wished he’d taken the time off with Maria. They could’ve travelled the world together. She would’ve loved Cabarita Beach.

  He glanced at a small square of paper in his hand. Scratched with a pencil in an almost indecipherable hand, were the words, The Waratah Inn.

  He’d stopped at a cafe in town called Joys. The girl behind the register had stopped smacking her mouthful of bubble gum long enough to write down the place where he could find the Summer family.

  That was what Edie was now. A Summer. His mother had told him as much, and even though it’d been difficult to comprehend at the time, he was used to it now. Edie Summer. It had a nice ring to it. He hoped she’d been happy, that she still was. It would be almost unbearable if she hadn’t.

  The idea had kept him away from the inn at first. Instead, he’d stopped at the lookout to watch the waves curl to shore for half an hour, unable to step back into his truck. What if she’d led a miserable life? What if Keith’s father had mistreated him? He didn't want to know, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t turn back time, and as much as it pained him to think of them suffering, he wouldn’t change a thing because the path he’d taken had led him to a family he adored and a life full of joy.

  He sighed and climbed into the truck, slamming the door shut behind him. It was time to take the step. Whatever he found when he reached the inn, he’d deal with it.

  Butterflies jostled in his stomach as he drove down the long, narrow highway. The one thing he’d failed to consider, to let himself ponder, were his feelings for Edie. He’d pushed them down, denied they existed at all. He told himself he was checking on them, wanted to make sure she and Keith were okay. And if he could, get to know his son, at least a little. But the truth was, his love for Edie had never dimmed, it’d simply been locked away in a vault somewhere deep in his heart.

  Pulling that love out and facing it felt like a betrayal to Maria. But Stefano was right — Maria was gone. She’d been dead for a year now; even the memory of her face was fading in his mind’s eye and the pain he’d felt at every reminder of her life, had faded. Was it wrong for him to admit he still cared for the girl he’d loved all those years ago? He wouldn’t act on it, she was married after all, but he could face it.

  A driveway dipped away to the left of the road and he slowed to look down it. Beside an open gate hung a sign, painted dark pink, that read, The Waratah Inn: Beachside Bed and Breakfast.

  He reversed the truck, then turned into the driveway with a brief grinding of gears. The tyres crackled on the gravel as he pulled slowly towards a three-story structure with pink walls, white gables, and a white wrap-around verandah. It looked like it hadn’t seen a paintbrush in years, with bubbling and peeling in places and a few stained boards. Still, the garden that surrounded the inn was beautifully maintained, with vibrant pops of colour as flowers pushed through the greenery to smile at the sun.

  That was Edie’s touch for sure. She’d always loved gardening. Even when she was a teenager, one of her favourite chores had been to get down in the dirt beside her mother, digging in the large kitchen garden they’d kept behind the old farmhouse. That and feeding the horses of course. She’d loved her horse more than almost anything or anyone. Sometimes he wondered if she loved the feisty mare even more than she did him. Though she’d denied it of course and sealed her words with a kiss that had stolen his breath away.

  A bubble of nerves burst free in his gut as the memory of her kisses washed over him. He found a parking lot beside the inn. A few cars were parked in haphazard fashion on its weed-covered surface. He pulled the truck onto the lot and climbed out to stare at the inn. Laughter bubbled from an open window, and several people lounged on the verandah talking.

  He set off towards the inn, then veered around it. Perhaps he should look around first, then see if he could find Edie. He needed a moment to steel his nerves. Behind the building he found a narrow trail that wound through the yard and then down a short embankment to a beach that’d been hidden from view by a grove of pandanus.

  The cove was breathtaking and untouched. There wasn’t a single person in sight. At least, not at first. He’d walked for ten minutes along the shoreline, basking in the solitary beauty of the place, when he saw a family emerge from the trail he’d taken only minutes earlier.

  Their laughter caught his ear first, then he swung his head to watch as a woman, a man, and three teenaged girls padded down the sand to the water. The girls ran towards the water. One scooped up a handful of seawater to throw at the others, who squealed and peeled off clothing to reveal swimsuits beneath. They dove into the water, beneath the waves, swimming like they were made for it.

  His eyes narrowed, squinted in the bright sunshine. There was something about the woman that was familiar to him. He watched her. She held a hand over her eyes, shading them from the sun as she called to the girls. Her laughter floated back to him, and his heart skipped a beat. He’d recognise that sound anywhere. It was Edie. It had to be her. No one else laughed like that — her laughter was contagious, it bubbled up from within her and poured out like birdsong.

  The man behind her folded his pants up until they were above his knees, then waded into the water. He shouted something that made Edie throw back her head. Then, he splashed the water in her direction. She pulled away with another laugh. He wished he could hear them, hear what they were saying. But if he drew closer, they’d notice, and he didn’t want that. Could the man be his son? He certainly looked to be the right age. And if he was, if that was Keith, maybe the girls were his daughters. Perhaps they were Charlie’s granddaughters. His heart swelled and throat tightened. He had grandchildren. It didn’t seem possible.

  He was the only other person on the beach. They were bound to see him if he stayed where he was, and he couldn’t return to the inn without passing them.

  He’d come there to see Edie, to meet Keith. He didn’t know what he’d hoped to achieve by doing that. He knew it could disrupt their lives. What would he say? How could he tell them the story of his life without causing them more pain than he already had? He’d brought the letters with him. The ones he’d addressed to Edie, that contained all the words he’d longed to say over the years but hadn’t
mailed. They were sitting on the front seat of his truck. A bunch of envelopes held together by a single elastic band. The story of his life since they’d last been together.

  He spun on his heel, ducked his head, and strode away from them, towards the end of the beach. When he reached it, he stopped and sat himself down on an outcropping of black rocks. Just beyond the waves, a large black rock jutted skyward. He peered at it, studying the way the water swirled around it on the way back into the depths, then crashed and sprayed on its way to shore.

  He should’ve taken off his shoes before he stepped onto the sand. Now there was sand in one of them. He tugged it off, still watching the waves, and poured the sand out. Then, repeated the procedure with the other shoe. He shoved both socks deep into his shoes and stood, shoes in hand, to return to the inn.

  The family had moved now. He couldn’t see them any longer. It should be safe to walk back to the truck and drive home. It’d been wrong to come. He couldn’t bear to tell them the truth. It might make him feel better, to have them in his life in some way, but it would only bring them pain.

  He marched back down the beach, then stopped where the family had stood, splashing each other at the edge of the shore. A pair of sandals sat there, alone, just out of reach of a rushing wave.

  He stared at the sandals, then, stooped to pick them up. A voice startled him.

  “Thanks, I was coming back for those.”

  He turned to see Edie, looking at him with those same blue eyes that’d stolen his heart all those years ago and never given it back. She was older than he’d remembered, of course, but looked much the same. Her hair was shorter, styled just above her shoulders. The curls were still there, along with the golden blonde hue. A few streaks of grey, much like his own, glistened in the sunlight. Her waist was thicker, there were wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled at him, but it was still her. The same Edie he’d fallen in love with.

  He handed her the sandals.

  “Thanks,” she said. She turned to go, then faced him with one eyebrow arched. “You look familiar…like someone I once knew.”

  His eyes met hers.

  She gaped. “What…?”

  “Edie…” he said.

  Her face crumpled. “No. It can’t be.” She stepped closer, threw her arms around his neck. “Charlie.”

  He found he couldn’t speak at first. Instead, he embraced her and held her close as she trembled in his arms.

  When she pulled back, tears had wet her cheeks. “I don’t understand…where have you been all this time?”

  His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Can we sit…talk?”

  She dipped her head in a nod and waved at the rocks on the edge of the beach. He followed her up the sand, and they sat side by side on a flat, dark rock, looking out towards the horizon.

  Edie faced him, her damp cheeks flushed. “I’m listening. I’m trying to be patient, Charlie. But I have a lot of questions.”

  “I know you do…and I’ll answer all of them.”

  He explained it all to her then. How he’d escaped the POW camp and lost his memory. Where he’d been living, with his family. And how he’d come to Australia after losing his wife, hoping for a new start, hoping to see her again.

  She cried as he spoke, while she fidgeted with the sandals in her hands.

  Finally, when he fell silent, she met his gaze. “I thought you were dead. I buried you, mourned you. It broke my heart to lose you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I’d remembered…I would’ve come back to you. I would’ve done anything…but by the time I regained my memory, I was married, had children. Then, when I wrote to my parents, they said you were married, that you and Keith had moved away with your new husband. I figured…it was best to leave things as they were.”

  “But you could’ve at least told me you were alive!” she cried, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand.

  He sighed. “I can see that now…but at the time, I thought it was best not to bother you. It was difficult for me, all those memories flooding back, going through the grief of losing you and Keith, and realising I couldn’t do anything to change what’d already been done. Perhaps I made the wrong choice, but I can’t fix it now. All I can do is to say that I’m sorry.”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, new tears spilling from her eyes. “Thank you. I’m so glad you came to see me. I’m so glad you’re alive. Even if we couldn’t be together, the world is a better place for having you in it.”

  His throat tightened and he kissed the back of her hand. “I hope you’re happy…that’s all I can ask for, all I’ve wanted to know for so long.”

  She smiled through the tears. “Yes, I have a happy life. Paul Summer, that’s the man I married, was a loving and kind husband, and a great father to our boy.”

  “Was?” Charlie couldn’t help noticing she used the past tense.

  She blinked, sighed. “Yes, Paul died three years ago. Heart attack, I’m afraid. I miss him.”

  “I’m so sorry, Edie.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife as well.”

  They stood in silence a moment. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I guess I’d better be going.”

  “I’ll walk you back to your car,” she said.

  They walked side by side. His hand itched to hold hers. He glanced at her every now and then. It was hard to believe she was there that she was real.

  She told him about the move from Bathurst to Cabarita to start a new life with Paul and Keith. That Mima had joined them to work as the cook at the inn.

  She told him about her granddaughters, about how she looked forward to their visits and missed them when they returned to Sydney.

  He interrupted. “I’d like to meet Keith.”

  She sighed. “I figured you would. Let me think about how we can do that. He doesn’t know about you.”

  “You didn’t tell him?” he asked. The question caught in his throat.

  “I did…I told him when he was very young. We used to spend time with your parents while they were still alive.”

  “They told me.”

  She smiled. “It was really lovely. But then, he grew up and we didn’t talk about it so much. Paul was his father in every way that mattered to him, and then after a while I realised he didn’t remember us telling him about you. I was going to bring it up again, to say something, but he and Paul had such a good relationship…”

  His nostrils flared. He wanted to understand. He hadn’t been there for them, Paul had. But still, not to tell his son about him?

  “When Paul died, I thought it’d be unfair to his memory, and to Keith, if I said anything.”

  He swallowed the pain. “It’s fine, Edie. You did your best, that’s all I can ask for.”

  When they reached the truck, he opened the front door, leaned in, and retrieved the bundle of envelopes from the passenger seat. He handed them to her.

  “I could tell you all about my life, but these letters will explain it better.”

  She took the bundle, turned it over, and read the addresses on the front. They were each addressed to her, in a variety of blue and black-coloured inks. Some envelopes were yellowed, some big and rectangular, others small and square.

  She looked at him with a question on her face.

  He shrugged. “I wanted to write to you so many times over the years. So, I did…I just couldn’t send them.”

  Edie’s eyes glistened. “Thank you. I’ll read and treasure them.”

  He reached for her hand, held it a moment, turned it over and kissed her palm. She didn’t pull it away, didn’t say anything at all. His heart pounded in his chest.

  He stepped closer.

  Then she was in his arms, warm against his body. He kissed her with a passion he’d long since forgotten, had thought was dead within him. She returned the kiss, her lips strange, yet familiar all at the same time.

  He wrapped her up in his arms, even as her hands curled around his neck, her finge
rs tracing lines through his hair. This was home for him, in Edie’s arms with her in his. A strange sense of pain, sorrow mixed with joy and longing, swept over him until his throat ached with it.

  26

  February 1997

  Cabarita Beach

  The swell of a wave lifted Bindi, then lowered her back down again. Her legs rested in the water on either side of her surfboard. Ahead of her, the beach at the cove disappeared from view, blocked by another swell of water, then reappeared again as the wave journeyed to shore.

  She wiped a strand of sodden hair from her eyes and squinted back over her shoulder at the horizon. Another swell was on its way. She lay on the surfboard and raised her arms to paddle. Beside her, Reeda and Kate did the same.

  Kate grinned at her. “First in…”

  “Best dressed,” replied Bindi with a chuckle.

  The three sisters paddled all at once, arms flailing, water flying as the swell rose up beneath them. Bindi managed to get ahead of the wave. Her arms stung with the effort, but she continued propelling herself forward. Finally, the wave broke as she leapt to her feet. She rode it until it was nothing but a whisper against the shoreline, then leapt from her surfboard.

  With the board under her arm, she jogged up the beach and collapsed in the sand. Reeda and Kate had caught the wave behind hers and soon joined her, laughing, and gasping for air.

  “That was amazing. The surf today is awesome,” said Reeda, sagging onto the sand beside Bindi.

  “Wow,” added Kate. “What a great set.”

  “How are you feeling?” asked Reeda, her eyes squinting against the sun’s glare.

  Bindi shrugged. “I feel strong, good…really good.”

  Reeda grinned. “I’m so glad. It’s amazing to see you out there. You look fantastic.”

  Bindi inhaled a slow breath, lifting her face towards the sunshine, eyes closed. “I’ll never take it for granted again.”