by Lilly Mirren
Josh jogged back to where she stood, kissed her lightly on the lips. “My shift doesn’t end for a while. I’ll be back in a few hours. Okay?”
She nodded, then crossed her arms over her chest to watch as the ambulance and police cruiser left, one after the other, lights flashing.
Bindi slumped into a rocking chair. The song of a hundred cicadas swelled in the cool night air. Kate sat on one side, Reeda on the other. Each of the sisters looked as exhausted as Bindi felt.
“I hope it’s not like this every night,” moaned Reeda, her eyes wide.
“The first night is always the worst,” said Kate, shaking her head. “And we had a doozy.”
“I can’t feel my feet,” added Bindi. She reached down to massage one bare foot with her fingertips.
“You did so well, and so did you Kate.” Reeda reached out a hand to squeeze Bindi’s shoulder.
“Yeah, the food looked amazing. Smelled great too. And everyone cleaned their plates. I think the menu was a huge hit.” Bindi grinned at Kate.
“Thanks, I’m glad to hear it.” Kate grinned. “And you managed to keep everyone alive on the premises. That was no mean feat tonight.”
Bindi rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad this night is over. I don’t think I could take more.”
Reeda grinned. “Let’s hope things get much more boring from now on.”
Kate sighed, leaned forwards and grunted as she stood to her feet. She stretched her arms over her head with a yawn. “I’m going home. I’ve got to get some sleep before we start all over again in the morning.”
“Me too,” replied Reeda.
Bindi kissed each sister goodbye then nestled back into her chair, tucking her legs up beneath her. A few minutes later, the back door opened again, and Josh walked through it, still wearing his uniform.
She offered him a weary smile. “There you are, I was wondering when you’d make it back.”
“Sorry, things got crazy for us tonight.”
“Ah…so you’ve had an evening like mine.”
He chuckled, bent to kiss her lips then lowered himself into the chair beside her.
They talked together for a while about their day. Josh’s stories made Bindi grateful she worked at an inn rather than on a police beat. One day of bedlam and emergencies was enough for her, she couldn’t imagine dealing with worse every day of the week.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said. “You’re amazing.”
He smiled, grabbed her chair, and turned it so she faced him. Then he picked up her feet, set them in his lap and began massaging them.
“Wow, that feels amazing.”
He smiled. “You worked hard tonight, I’m really proud of you. You and your sisters did all this — it’s something pretty special.” He waved an arm towards the inn, the gardens.
Bindi glanced around with new eyes, seeing the Waratah as a guest might for the first time. Twinkle lights sparkled in the flourishing garden. The timber planks on the verandah floor gleamed, the pale yellow of the inn’s walls contrasted with the dark light fixtures and complemented the light floral and wicker furniture.
“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmured.
He nodded. “I visited this place years ago. It didn’t look anything like it does now. You ladies have completely transformed it.”
“The heart of the Waratah is still the same though,” she mused. “Beneath the fancy decor, it’s still Nan’s inn. A place she built to give people somewhere to stay for their holidays to help them feel at home.”
“And now it boasts the best restaurant on the coast,” added Josh with a wink.
Bindi’s heart flooded with warmth. “Yeah, it does.” She grinned. “It’s hard to believe, and I spent the night in such a tizzy over everything that was happening, I didn’t get a chance to soak it all in. Thanks for reminding me.”
He nodded. “My pleasure.”
“I could get used to these foot massages,” she said.
He cackled, winked. “It’s all part of my devious plan. You know, the one I told you about months ago.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “My plan to make myself completely irresistible. Before you know it, you won’t be able to live without me.”
Her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Well, it’s working.”
He set her feet on the floor, kneeled in front of her and kissed her hard on the lips. His arms wound around her waist, and when she pulled back his gaze fixed on hers. His eyes seemed to drink her in, making her heart pound against her ribs.
Josh took her hand in his, caressed it slowly. “Bindi, ever since I met you back in high school, you’ve held my heart. I didn’t realise it fully at the time, but I loved you from that first moment. I never could get you out of my head, so when I saw you at the beach that day, I thought it was fate giving me a second chance.”
Bindi’s eyes brimmed with tears and she sniffled.
He smiled. “Ever since that day, the time we’ve spent together has confirmed it to me over and over. You’re the one for me. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
A lump filled Bindi’s throat and she blinked away the tears blurring her vision.
“So, what do you say — will you marry me?”
Josh’s eyes fixed on hers, full of love, hope — expectant as he waited for her response.
When she was sick, she hadn’t wanted this. Didn’t want to saddle Josh with a sick wife, or with the pain of losing her. But now she was well. She’d never felt for anyone what she felt for him. He was the kind of man she wanted to spend her days with, to sit next to in these rocking chairs every evening. Whenever something happened in her life, he was the one she wanted to talk to about it. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, not anymore.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She sniffled, then smiled wide.
He leapt to his feet, then cupped her face with both hands to kiss her lips. She stood and their lips joined. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Then, he lifted her from her feet and spun in a circle making her legs fly out, his lips pulled into a wide grin. She laughed, then he kissed her again as the world spun around her.
36
December 1990
Cabarita Beach
Mud had a way of travelling it seemed. Up her arms, all over her gloves. Her knees were covered in it too. Edie glanced at her pants with a wry smile and shook her head. No matter, the stains hadn’t come out of those pants in years. They were her gardening pants for a reason.
She set the trowel down in the mud, staggered to her feet and waited for the feeling to return to her legs. She was getting too old to kneel in the garden for long. Though it was her happy place, so she hated to give it up. Still, perhaps she should cave and get one of those special kneeling pads she’d seen at the hardware shop.
Ugh. Getting old really was no fun at all. She paused, tipped her head to one side. Unless of course, the love of your life showed up unexpectedly. Then it became much more enjoyable.
As she gathered her gardening things together, she mused over the years she and Charlie had shared since his return. Something she’d never thought possible. She’d lived with the grief of losing him for so long, it’d become a comfortable companion, something she returned to whenever she was feeling low or worried.
Then, he’d come back. She’d thought she was losing her mind at first. That day on the beach, when she saw him, she’d thought it was finally happening — she’d go crazy before she died and be a menace to her family and society. But then he’d touched her, brought her back to the moment, and she’d understood he was real. He was there. Her Charlie.
Her throat tightened at the memory. She’d been angry with him at first. How could he do that to her, to Keith? But after he’d explained, she’d fallen back into his arms. The letters were really the thing that’d turned her around. She’d recognised his handwriting immediately. Had read over his old letters in her box so many times she was afraid they’d fall
to pieces.
He worried, regretted, even got angry at himself at times for what he’d put them through — her and Keith. But she’d assured him, there was no time left in their lives for regrets. They had to move forward, to enjoy every moment they had left. Regrets only shrivelled a heart, love expanded it to hold everything life now offered them — another chance at happiness, something she’d thought was behind her.
And she was happy. Happier than she’d believed possible. Mima teased her about it all the time. Told her she’d have to sell the inn and move into the cottage with Charlie full-time. But Edie didn’t want that. She loved her inn, it held so many memories — Paul, Keith’s childhood, the girls. Everything was wrapped up in its walls, her whole life. The shadows of it anyway.
The one thing that’d make her life complete was if the girls would come home more often. Call her more regularly. Losing their parents so young had changed them. Of course it had. No one could go through a thing like that without being changed.
They hardly called, and when they did the conversations were short, to the point. Their visits had slowed to a trickle, generally only Christmas and sometimes not even then. When they did all visit at the same time, their stay usually resulted in the three of them arguing, then not speaking to each other for days or storming out early to catch the first flight home.
She and Charlie wanted to talk to them about everything that’d happened, who he was, where he’d been — but each time they made a plan, the girls ruined it by either not making it home, or with some dramatic scene or angry outburst. In the end, she’d just about given up the idea. If she could only get them all together, have them visit the inn at the same time, and talk to them before things devolved into fighting or chaos. She’d have to call them again, see if she could manage it.
She sighed as she pulled off her gloves, shoving them into a her small, worn gardening bag.
“You seem lost in thought.” Charlie’s voice startled her.
She grunted. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I might have a heart attack.”
He frowned. “Sneak…? I lumbered across the yard like an injured elephant. You’re going senile in your old age.”
She feigned exaggerated laughter, stepped out of the garden, and handed him her gardening bag. “You’re such a romantic.”
He grinned. “I work hard at it, practice my lines on the horses sometimes. They give feedback. It’s a whole thing…”
Edie threw her head back and laughed, then looped her arms around his neck. “You make me happy, Charlie Jackson.”
He kissed her soft on the lips, his familiar scent stirring a longing within her she’d grown accustomed to all over again.
“I’m glad to hear it. You know, I should really make an honest woman of you. After all, I did give you a promise…”
Edie’s eyes narrowed. “Which promise exactly do you mean?”
“The one where I said I’d be back from the war soon, and I’d marry you and spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
“Oh, that one,” she replied.
“Yes, that one.” He kissed her again. “So, Edith Watson, I apologise for the delay, but what do you say we finally do what we said we’d do all those years ago? Let’s get married.”
She inhaled a slow breath. “I’d love to.”
Edie stared out the window at the ocean. She loved the beach, no matter where in the world she was. Fiji seemed like the perfect destination for a quiet wedding, and their cabin perched on the edge of the sand like a crab.
Charlie was already there, at the end of the beach waiting with the celebrant. Through a window she could see the sun setting over the water, shooting rays of pink, orange and yellow across the sea and highlighting the waves with a golden shimmer as they rolled to shore.
She smoothed the soft, blue gown against her legs, and glanced in the mirror one final time. She’d curled her hair, something she rarely did any more. She remembered a time when Mother had made her wear curls every day, the rags knotted and tangled against her head every night on her pillow.
With a soft brush, she added a last touch of blush to her cheeks, inhaled a sharp breath, then grabbed the bunch of frangipanis she was using as a bouquet.
Mima had been hurt and upset they hadn’t invited her to come, but Edie had explained they needed her to run the inn while they were gone. Besides, they’d have a party sometime, invite all their friends and family — they only had to talk to the girls first.
She and Charlie had wanted this moment to be just for them. They’d waited so long to commit their lives to one another, doing it alone seemed like the best thing. Besides, they could hardly invite Mima without also inviting Charlie’s children and their granddaughters. And the latter was something she’d decided not to do. This was a special moment for her and Charlie to share together. So much heartache, grief, and pain had been replaced by happiness. She didn’t want anything, or anyone else’s confusion, to upset that.
She stepped onto the beach, the sand enveloping her bare feet as she walked. Charlie stood beneath an archway at the end of the beach, a man dressed in white beside him. Charlie wore white as well, an open-necked shirt, long pants, and bare feet to match her own.
His eyes gleamed as she took her place beside him. He reached for her hands, held them in his own as her throat closed up. She couldn’t speak, just nodded. The thing she’d longed for in the still quiet of nights lying staring at the ceiling all those years ago, was hers. Charlie was alive, he was here, and they were saying vows that would tie them together for the rest of their lives.
Joy swelled in her heart. She held back a sob.
“I, Charles Jackson, do take you, Edith Watson, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”
He repeated the vows said by the celebrant, then it was her turn.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I, Edith Watson, take you, Charles Jackson…”
When the vows were finished, Charlie dipped her with a sparkle in his eyes, then kissed her gently. She kissed him back, the tears she’d held in check pouring down her cheeks.
“We did it,” she whispered against his neck.
He set her back on her feet. “Yes, we did.” With a thumb, he wiped away her tears.
“Let’s never be apart again,” she said.
He shook his head. “Never again.”
“I love you, Charlie Jackson.
“I love you too.”
“Let’s party,” she said, then took his hand.
They walked up the beach together. The restaurant was waiting with a table for them. Every other table held holiday makers, but Edie had eyes only for her new husband.
Her husband.
It felt strange to see him as her husband. When Paul died, she’d thought she’d never marry again. Had no desire to. Didn’t want to date, had put that part of her life away in a closet and locked it. But then Charlie showed up and everything changed. He’d unlocked the door to her heart and thrown out the key. She couldn’t shut it again if she tried.
They ordered a meal, then danced to music played by a live band until their meal arrived. Charlie’s arms around her, his hand firm against her back, brought memories buzzing into her head. They were teenagers again, and he was whispering words of love, of promises, into her ear making her head spin with thoughts of the future, of lives woven together and adventures unfolding with him by her side.
Candlelight flickered over the walls, the scent of roasted meats and flowers filled the air. Conversation and laughter floated around them. But they were alone, everything else was background to the love that tied them together. She stared into Charlie’s eyes and he held her gaze with an intensity that set her heart skittering in her chest.
Then, they ate together — fish wrapped in banana leaves, scallops fried in garlic and butter, fresh salads with things in it Edie had never seen or tasted before.
“I know most of my life is behind me now,” said Edie, “but I can’t help this feeling I have that anythi
ng’s possible.”
He nodded, swallowing a bite of fish. “I know what you mean. It’s like we’ve been given a second shot at life. We can be anyone we want to be, do anything we like.”
“I know what I want,” she replied.
He cocked his head to one side. “Oh?”
“I want to live out my days at the Waratah Inn, in that darling little cottage you’ve built by the water. I want to wake up in your arms and go to sleep there every night. I want to spend my time in my garden or walking in the cove.”
“That sounds just about perfect to me,” interjected Charlie.
“And I want my granddaughters around me.” Her throat tightened and she choked on the words.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It’ll happen. They’ll come around. In the meantime, we have each other.”
“You’re right.” She cleared her throat with a cough and raised her wine glass in a toast. “To us.”
“To us,” he agreed.
They clinked their glasses together and drank.
37
August 1997
Cabarita Beach
Her eyes blinked open. She shut them, then opened them all over again and stared at the ceiling. The covers were bunched up beneath her chin, and she tugged them higher still with a shiver.
It was a cold morning. At least, cold for Cabarita Beach. Not that it ever got even close to the frigid temperatures she’d lived through in Melbourne. And it was her wedding day.
Her stomach churned and she ducked over the side of the bed, clutching one hand to her mouth.
What was going on?
Was she sick again? This couldn’t be happening.
Her pulse spiked and she stared at the light blue rug beneath the bed. She was in remission; she wasn’t supposed to get sick again. She’d convinced herself it was over, she was well, that the illness had been a blip on the road of her life, and it was behind her. She’d lunged for happiness and now it was all going to be stripped away again.
