by Lyn Denison
Silver Threads
by Lyn Denison
Melissa Jamieson decides to put some space between herself and her ex-lover in an effort to come to terms with Terry’s betrayal. She drives from Melbourne back to Brisbane to visit her parents. However, her mother and stepfather are about to go away for a few months, so Mel’s mother arranges for Mel to stay with their former neighbor, Crys Hewitt, who needs help on her fledgling farm.
Mel’s mother is unaware that when her daughter was a shy, confused teenager, she had a terrible crush on Crys. Mel feels she made a complete fool of herself all those years ago trying to win Crys’s attention.
Now Mel finds herself back in the life of the attractive and sensuous older woman.
CHAPTER ONE
“Crys?”
“Wow! Two calls in one week, Angela. I’m overwhelmed.” Crys Hewitt chuckled softly. “What’s the drama?”
“Drama?” Angela Wright’s low voice sounded just slightly put out. “What makes you think there’s a drama?”
“Well…” Crys began, and Angela laughed softly.
“It sounds as though I only ring you when something’s wrong, and I guess I do, don’t I? I don’t mean to. It’s just that you’re always so, well, calming, I guess.”
Crys grimaced unconsciously. “You’re the only one who thinks so. And apart from that, more happens in your life than in the life of the average middle-aged matron.”
“Middle-aged matron? Now that was below the belt.”
They both laughed.
“I thought that would guarantee a comment,” Crys teased.
Angela sighed. “I suppose I am middle-aged. Forty-nine. Two grown-up daughters. Two grandchildren. I certainly don’t feel that old,” Angela said wistfully.
“You don’t look it either,” Crys said honestly, smiling as she imagined the other woman looking at herself in the hall mirror of her immaculate home over a hundred miles north of Crys’s farm. “So, what’s the problem?” Crys asked. Angela sighed again.
“It’s Melissa.”
Crys paused, not noticing that her fingers had tightened slightly on the receiver. “Mel? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing life threatening,” Angela assured her quickly. “Although Mel might think it is right now. She’s broken up with Terry.”
“Oh,” Crys said uneasily. “I guess she’s pretty upset about that.”
“She is,” Angela agreed. “Not that I’m surprised. You know I’ve always felt he was something of a layabout. Mel was always so secretive about him. And anyone who’s so disinterested in family can’t be all good. We never got to meet him, you know,” she finished ominously. Crys laughed.
“Some people just aren’t family oriented, Angela.” She paused. “But you said Mel seemed serious about him, so I suppose she must be taking the breakup badly. They’ve been together for a couple of years now, haven’t they?”
“Mmm. About five or six years, I think.” Angela sighed. “All this happened six months ago, and Mel’s only just told me. Now she wants to come home.”
“What’s wrong with that? You’ve been trying to get her back to Brisbane for years. Ah!” Crys stopped and lightly slapped her hand to the side of her dark head. “I’d forgotten. Tasmania. You were off to Tasmania. So what are you going to do about that? Let Bill go on his own?”
“Oh, Crys, I’m pulled both ways,” Angela said agitatedly. “You know Bill’s totally useless on his own. He’s the real absentminded professor. But I also feel I should be here for Mel. I know she’s twenty-eight, but she’s always been naive in a lot of ways.”
“Why not get her to go to Tasmania with you and Bill,” Crys suggested. “Bill’s job down there is only for one semester, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but Mel’s determined she doesn’t want to go down to Tasmania with us. She said she’d be okay, that she’d just stay at home on her own, but I don’t think she should. She seemed so down.”
Crys frowned. “I see your point. Can’t Mel stay with Amber then?”
“I thought about that, but the house Amber and Adam are renting is far too small for the four of them, let alone having an extra adult living there. And they won’t be moving into their new house for at least a month.”
“What about Mel’s father?”
“Danny’s taken Cindy and the boys overseas on holidays. I thought I’d told you about that. I must have forgotten. Anyway, they won’t be back for weeks.” Angela paused slightly. “But I did come up with an alternative,” she continued. “Could Mel come down to you? You said you needed help on the farm. Mel could do that.”
Crys stiffened. “Oh, Angela, I don’t know. I can’t afford to pay much—”
“You wouldn’t need to pay Mel,” Angela said blithely.
“Don’t be silly, Angela. I’d have to pay her. But it would be almost slave labor, which is why I haven’t been able to find anyone to take it on.”
“I’m sure Mel would welcome the chance. You and Mel always got on so well. But that aside, it would be a change of scene for Mel, and it would keep her occupied, take her mind off Terry.”
“What about her work?”
“She can still do that. She can do her illustrating anywhere.”
“I don’t think that’s strictly true,” Crys put in dryly. “But apart from that, you know this place isn’t exactly the Sheraton. It’s pretty basic, hardly what Mel’s been used to.”
“You have running water, don’t you?” Angela laughed.
“Yes, I have running water, as you also know,” Crys agreed in mock exasperation. “Have you mentioned this idea to Mel?”
“Not yet. I wanted to check with you first. So is it okay?”
“Mel might not want to do it,” Crys began.
“Leave that to me,” Angela stated confidently. “Just tell me you’ll take her in.”
“Take her in?” Crys laughed reluctantly. “You make her sound like an orphan.”
“I feel like I’m making her one by not being there for her, but, well, you know what Bill’s like.”
“More trouble than half a dozen kids?”
Angela laughed. “And then some. I sometimes wonder why I bother.”
“Well, don’t blame me. I tried to get you to see the light.” Crys teased lightly, and Angela chuckled.
“Light, schmight. And I still can’t see what you see in it. There’s no substitute for, well, what men have to offer.”
“Ah! Don’t you believe it. Give me a good woman anytime. When she runs her fingers—”
Angela groaned. “You know I can’t cope with all that, Crys.”
“Of course you can. You can cope with anything,” Crys said levelly. “That’s what I’ve always admired about you over the years. How many years is it that we’ve known each other? Twenty?”
“At least. But let’s just keep that to ourselves.” Angela sobered. “I really do appreciate this, Crys. You’re a great friend. You always have been.”
“So have you. Well. If Mel agrees to this, and I can’t really see her wanting to exchange cosmopolitan Melbourne for country Uki, when are you expecting her home? You and Bill are leaving this weekend, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And Mel’s already here. She arrived unannounced last night, complete with suitcases, in the middle of a storm and looking like a drowned kitten.”
Angela made a clucking noise. “She drove all the way up here on her own. I’m just glad I didn’t know she was doing that or I’d have been worried out of my mind. Anyway, I thought she could come down to you tomorrow or Friday.”
Crys absently rubbed at the frown between her eyes. “Angela, I don’t know about this. Mel’s welcome to stay any time, but this isn’t exactly the hub of the social whirl. I don’t want you pushing her into c
oming down here if she doesn’t want to.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Angela pouted.
“Oh, no? You are a professional when it comes to organizing everyone, and you know it. Even if you do wear kid gloves to do the shoving.”
Angela laughed again. “All right. I get your point. Mel’s out at the moment, but what if I get her to ring you tonight and you can see for yourself how she feels about it? No pressure from me.”
Crys paused. “All right. I suppose if I talked to Mel myself—”
“Great. Well, we’ll ring back tonight after dinner. Bye. And thanks, Crys.”
Crys stood motionless for long seconds until she realized the phone was buzzing in her ear and she gently replaced the receiver on its cradle.
“You didn’t think I’d mind?” Mel asked incredulously, more than a little annoyed with her mother.
“Well, no.” Angela shrugged her shoulders beneath her designer dress. “You know I’ll worry about you if I have to leave you here alone.”
“Mum, I’m a big girl now, pushing twenty-nine,” Mel reminded her mother dryly.
“I know. And you’re twenty-eight. You’ll be wanting to subtract the years soon enough, believe me. But, apart from that, you’ll always be my baby.”
“Mum!” Mel shook her head.
“Well, you are.” Angela sighed. “And I do worry about you. If your father wasn’t overseas you could have gone to him. And Amber’s place is too small. So then I thought of Crys. You’ve known her all your life and I thought you might enjoy a short stay in the country.”
“But I haven’t seen Crys for years.” Not since she’d left school and…Mel turned and walked over to the fireplace to hide the slight flush that colored her cheeks. “You can’t just foist me on her like this.”
Angela waved her slender hand dismissively. “I didn’t just foist you on her. I rang her and asked her if you could stay for a while. Crys needs help on the farm.” Angela shrugged. “It seemed sensible all around.”
Mel turned back to face her mother. “Help on the farm? Mum, I don’t know the first thing about farming, and I’m not keen on finding out either. Can you see me mucking out stables?”
Angela laughed. “It won’t be anything like that. Crys grows things.” She frowned. “What does she call it now? Wild food. Things you don’t see growing everywhere. Apparently there’s a good market for her produce, especially overseas.”
“I can’t even keep a pot plant alive, you know that. I’ll be more of a hindrance to Crys than a help.” Mel sighed exasperatedly. “There’s no problem with you going away. I told you I can stay here on my own.
As soon as the sale of the flat goes through, I’ll go back to Melbourne and get another place.”
“Are you sure you can trust Terry to be fair over the sale of the flat?” Angela went off at a tangent. “He never sounded very reliable to me. What if he…?”
“We have a mutual friend who’s a lawyer. She’s handling all that. It will be all right, Mum.”
“I hope so.” Angela bit her lip. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, Mel, but I think this might all be for the best. I never felt he was the right man for you.”
Mel turned away from her mother again and fingered the china paperweight on the mantelpiece. “It’s all relative now.”
“There’s no chance you’ll get back together?” Angela asked softly.
Mel shook her head. “No. No chance.” She was quiet for a moment before replacing the paperweight on the mantelpiece and turning back to her mother. She ran her hand through her short hair and sighed. “Life has a habit of going on.”
“It does that.” Angela walked over and gave her younger daughter a hug. “And wounds do heal.” Her hand absently rubbed Mel’s back.
A small voice inside Mel told her this would be a good time to tell her mother the truth about Terry. They were alone together with no fear of an interruption. Bill, her stepfather, was at work. Mel could tell her mother Terry was a woman, that she, Mel, preferred it that way.
“That’s why I thought getting away from it all, going down to Crys’s, would be just the thing for you.” Her mother continued, “It’s such lovely country around Uki. Green valleys. Rolling hills. So restful.”
Mel sighed again. “Mum—”
“Why not ring Crys?” Angela suggested in the coaxing tone Mel remembered so well.
In the past it had been almost impossible to refuse her mother when she used that intonation, and Mel felt herself wavering as usual.
“It won’t hurt to talk to Crys, will it?” Her mother persisted. “And then if you don’t want to go you can stay here. I could ask Amber to come down to keep you company every so often, just to ensure you’re not lonely.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Amber doesn’t have time to come running down here to play nursemaid to me. She has her husband and kids to look after. She won’t thank you for asking her to do that.”
“Of course your sister would come if you needed her. She felt the same way I did about Terry. Why, just the other day—”
“Mum. Okay.” Mel held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll ring Crys.”
“I think that would be best. Her number’s there on the pad by the phone.”
And the moment of truth seemed to pass. Or Mel allowed it to.
Wiping her damp hands on the hand towel, Crys glanced around the kitchen and decided it was tidy enough. She walked through to the living room and sat down in her easy chair.
Picking up a magazine, she leafed through a few pages. This didn’t hold her interest, so she tossed the magazine back onto the coffee table. If she sat here she’d begin to think, and for some reason she didn’t want to start delving into the past tonight.
With a sigh she reached for the remote control and began flipping through the channels on the television, stopping on the one-day cricket match between Australia and New Zealand. She’d forgotten that was on today, so she settled back to pick up the threads of the match.
The Aussie team was in a firm position but one just never knew with cricket, especially the fifty-over-only one-day games. The match wasn’t over until the last ball was bowled.
When the phone rang she literally jumped in her chair. Her hand went unconsciously to her chest where her heart was pounding with fright. She was halfway to the hallway before she realized she was on her feet, yet when she reached the telephone she simply stood there looking at it for long seconds.
Answer it, she ordered herself forcefully. It would probably be Mel. Unaccountably, her mouth was suddenly dry. She admonished herself and, taking a steadying breath, reached for the receiver.
“Crys Hewitt.”
Mel dialed the number and waited as the phone made the connection and rang on the other end of the line. For some reason her palms felt sweaty, and she almost jumped when she heard Crys’s deep voice.
“Crys Hewitt.”
“Ah. Hi, Crys! It’s Mel.” Mel cleared her throat. “Melissa Jamieson.” She cringed, and her fingers worried at the phone cord. What a stupid thing to say. As if Crys didn’t know who she was.
“Hello, Mel.” Crys’s low voice sounded impossibly lower than Mel remembered, and a tingle of long-forgotten awareness rekindled somewhere deep inside her. “Nice to hear from you. It’s been a long time. Must be about ten years or so, isn’t it?”
“Um. About that.” Mel swallowed again. “Since I left for college in Melbourne.”
“That’s right. Then we always seemed to miss each other when you came home from art school.”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations on your success with your books,” Crys continued. “Your mother told me all about the Children’s Picture Book awards you’ve won. She’s very proud of you.”
“Thanks. I…it was great to win the awards. It sure boosted our finances.” When they’d won the first year they’d put a down payment on the flat together. Terry had decided it would be a good investment. And she had been right, Mel acknowledged. Pr
operty prices had escalated in the past few months, and they’d do pretty well out of the sale.
“I’m sure it did,” Crys was saying, and Mel drew her wandering attention back to the present.
“Mum says you need some help down there.”
“Well, I admit that half a dozen strong pairs of hands wouldn’t go astray. So I guess one extra pair would be a start. However, the problem is that the farm is still in its infancy and barely pays its way.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take any money,” Mel put in promptly.
“If you work you need to be paid,” Crys came back just as quickly.
They both paused for long moments.
“Mum says you grow, well, things,” Mel said, and Crys’s soft, deep laughter danced over the phone. Mel changed the receiver to her other hand and wiped her damp palm on her jeans, flexing her fingers where they’d been clutching the telephone.
“I’ll bet your mother said I grow strange things.”
“Oh, no. No, she didn’t. She said it was wild food.”
“Something like that.”
Mel knew by Crys’s tone that she was smiling, and Mel’s memory tossed up a vivid picture from the past. They were in their backyard. Crys and her mother were stretched out on bright beach towels, side by side, sunbathing. Mel had to admit that Angela and Crys were as different as chalk and cheese.
Mel’s mother was fine-boned and slender, her figure and face barely showing the passage of time. She looked years younger than she actually was even then.
It had always been Mel’s bugbear that she didn’t take after her mother. She, Mel, was more like her father’s family. Her sister Amber, older by four years, had been the lucky one to inherit Angela’s genes.
Crys Hewitt, on the other hand, was a little shorter than Angela, with broad shoulders and curving hips, her breasts filling the top of her bathing suit. If Mel could have used one word to describe Crys, she would have said voluptuous. Crys was all that the word implied. Voluptuous. And darkly sensual.
Mel flushed at her wayward thoughts and drew her attention back to her phone call again. “Mum showed me the article on your farm that was in the local paper. It sounds interesting.”
