by Darian Smith
As he climbed the steps to the porch, Nate had to admit Sara had stirred up something. He found her intriguing. He had since their coffee and conversation the other day at his house. At the time, he’d wondered what he’d done to send her running off so quickly. After this morning, he began to understand. The phone call from a man who was obviously her ex – an ex she was very clearly afraid of – explained a lot.
Nate’s own sister had dealt with an abusive partner for three years before finally finding the courage to leave him and Nate, only nineteen at the time, had hated the necessity of walking the tightrope whenever he’d been around them. He couldn’t stand by and pretend nothing was happening – he had to stand up for his sister. But he had to be careful not to make things worse until she was ready. And when she had finally been ready he’d been the one she came to. He’d driven her to the airport and she’d started a new life in Brisbane.
Nate knew how hard it had to have been for Sara to leave her life behind. If he wanted her to be anything more than neighbourly, he was going to have to prove that a man could be trusted after all.
He shooed away a couple of stray cats, sunning themselves on the porch, knowing they would likely mess with Sara’s allergies if she saw them. The creatures really did seem to be attracted to her. He could well relate.
As he knocked on the door, he wondered briefly if he’d done the right thing asking Sara to babysit. Abigail and Moana seemed to clash more often than not so it’d seemed logical to jump at the chance for a qualified early childhood educator to keep her busy over the holidays.
A large plastic rubbish bag sat in the corner of the porch, the top open to reveal hundreds of scraps of paper. Nate peered in while he waited. Sure enough, the bag was full of torn up wallpaper. He chuckled. So much for his worries that Sara might be the sort of woman who would take advantage of his offer of help. She’d already gotten on with the renovations without him. And she’d been babysitting Abigail all afternoon.
He was turning back to the door when something among the scraps caught his eye. It was a page from a notebook, tucked amongst the wallpaper. On it, was a perfect likeness of Abigail.
Nate picked it up. It really was her. Sketched in pencil, every line in place, every curve. He smiled. There was a definite twinkle in her eye that was Abigail. And the slope of her nose that was just as Emma’s had been. And the rogue curl in her hair that he could never brush straight. It was perfect.
Had Sara done this? And then thrown it out? Did she really underestimate her talent that much?
The door opened and he spun around, quickly tucking the sketch behind his back. The last thing he wanted Sara to think was that he’d been going through her rubbish like some homeless stalker.
“Daddy!” Abigail flew across the porch like a pigtailed tui diving to its nest.
Nate managed to stuff the sketch into his back pocket just in time to catch his laughing daughter as she flung herself into his arms. Her pink bomber jacket was half on and half off, making her lopsidedly puffy, like a half melted marshmallow. “Did you have fun?”
She nodded, her pigtails flapping like little wings. “So much fun. Sara’s cool, Dad. She let me help her do wallpaper.”
Nate looked over at Sara, who stood in the doorway. “Thank you. I should have a couple of hours early afternoon tomorrow if you want me to get started on the wiring.”
“That’d be great.” Sara held out Abi’s schoolbag. “She was a pleasure to have over and a big help. It was nice to have some company. This huge house gets a bit lonely by myself sometimes.”
Nate nodded. “Well, how about you come over for dinner this weekend? I’m not bad company either.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean...” Sara’s cheeks flushed a charming pink.
He chuckled. “I know. But I’d like to have you over. It’s the neighbourly thing to do, after all.”
“Well...”
“We can talk about your plans for the house. Come on. Let me cook for you.”
Abigail was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Pleeeeeease.”
Sara caved. “Okay. If I can return the favour sometime.”
Nate smiled. “Deal.”
And the smile stayed on his face all the way home.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re going to need a lot of new cladding,” Nate said, rapping on the wall in one of the bedrooms. “Some of this is definitely rotted.”
Sara sighed. “I know. And we’ll have to replace some of the internal beams as well. It’s held up pretty well though, for such an old house. The inspectors’ report could have been a lot worse.” She bit down on the words she wanted to say: if Moana had gotten her way, the house would have been condemned on the spot and they’d be assessing a pile of rubble by now. Much as she disliked the woman, Sara didn’t like to speak badly about Abigail’s aunt in front of the girl.
“I could give you a ride into town if you like. Take you to get supplies.” He nodded his head in the direction of his ute, parked outside. “They charge a lot for delivery out here and you’ll get the tradie discount if I’m with you.”
Sara chewed her lip, thinking. “When you say ‘town’ you mean...?”
“Whangarei’s the closest big city.” He gave a wry chuckle. “You thinking Auckland?”
She swallowed. “Yeah, but Whangarei’s fine. I’m sure you know the good places.” The last thing she wanted to do was go back to Auckland and risk going to the building supply shops she’d gone to with Greg. “It’s still a long way though. Are you sure you want to drive that far?”
“Depends on the company.” He grinned. “But I need to order a few things myself anyway so it’s no hassle.”
The inside of Nate’s ute was a curious mix of electrical wire spools, a toolbox, an old pair of overalls, and three Barbie dolls. Abigail ensconced herself in the centre of the cab and immediately picked up one of the dolls in a sparkling evening gown and gossamer wings. She began brushing the doll’s hair as if it were the most important thing in the world and seemed oblivious to the seatbelt being clicked into place around her by her father before he gunned the engine into life and guided them out onto the main road.
“Big city, here we come.” Nate flicked on the radio and shot Sara a smile. “Well, medium city, anyway.”
She smiled back, but it felt forced. Her eyes were drawn back to Abigail’s doll. Was that the kind of thing her daughter would have liked to play with if she’d been born? If she’d trusted Sara enough to let herself come into this world.
Sara turned to stare out the window. The tiny town of Kowhiowhio passed by in a damp blur. She wiped her eyes and swallowed as the last building gave way to bush and farmland. “Suck it up, girl,” she told herself, imagining her grandmother’s voice. It was just as well she wasn’t still working at her old kindergarten if the sight of a doll could get her this emotional.
She took a deep breath and watched the landscape passing by as they made their way around the winding road. Nate was careful to slow the car down a little before each corner.
Gradually Sara noticed music from the radio. It was a high energy pop station. Not quite what she’d imagined Nate would be listening to. Beside her, Abigail sang loudly along with each song. Amusingly, Nate sang with her – with reasonable tunefulness – but only the last half of each line of lyrics.
“What are you grinning at?” Nate asked, glancing across the cab at her.
“Nothing.” Sara smiled back. This time it was for real. “You’re a good driver,” she said. “I like that. Makes me feel safe.”
Nate was silent for a long moment, watching the road. He gripped the steering wheel very tight with one hand and briefly rubbed at his face with the other before bringing it back to the wheel. “Good,” he said, softly. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Right.” Sara watched him, wondering what she’d said wrong.
He didn’t look at her or speak for a several minutes. Nor did he start singing again.
It was Abig
ail who spoke up, tapping Sara on the arm. “Do you want a turn with my fairy doll? I’m going to play with the other one now.”
Sara took the offered doll with a smile. “Thank you, Abi. That’s very kind of you. She’s very pretty.”
The little girl nodded. “Fairy princesses always are.”
Sara chuckled. “I suppose so.”
The rest of the trip passed in animated chatter about dolls and kittens, with Nate proving to know a surprising amount about both. Each of the Barbies had a back-story and clearly Abigail’s doting dad had been indoctrinated in all of them.
When they pulled the ute into the carpark at the building supply store in Whangarei, Sara had forgotten her melancholy of earlier and had found she too was singing along to the radio. The three of them created a sound quite unlike anything the musicians had intended but full of joy and laughter nonetheless.
“So do you have an idea of what you want to get while we’re here?” Nate asked, as the automatic doors swooshed open.
“Jib board, some beams – you’ve got tools to cut things down to size, I’m assuming?”
He nodded.
“Good. Then some paint – I’ve got some ideas for the colours I’m after but I’ll have to look at the range they have here. Some of the curtains will need replacing too, so we should see if they have fabric swatches I can look through. If you see anything that seems like it’d go with that vine motif, let me know. I want to keep as much of that as I can. It’s so integral to the character of the house. And I should get some sandpaper and varnish and...” She trailed off. Nate was staring at her, grinning. “What?”
“I think this is the most animated I’ve seen you since you got here. You really like this stuff, don’t you?”
Sara felt her stomach tighten a little and tried to keep her tone from getting defensive. “Yeah, I do. And I’m good at it.”
Nate nodded. “I don’t doubt it. Let’s get to work.”
Sara blinked. She’d been expecting an argument. Greg would never have let her take charge like that without trying to cut her down to size. Shopping with Nate was very different. He listened to her ideas and made suggestions but left it to her to decide. Each time she picked something from a shelf, she had her arguments and justifications ready. Each time, they went unsaid.
“Nice,” Nate commented as she added a leaf stencil to the cart along with some paints. “Continuing the vine thing.”
“Motif,” said Sara. “Yeah.” Her emotions churned inside her, as jumbled as the pigments being combined in the paint mixer. Should she smile and trust his support or frown and be wary of it? Nate had been nothing but helpful and supportive since her arrival in town. Was she being unfair to judge him by the expectations she’d developed for Greg?
They continued strolling the aisles, with Abigail perched on the front of the cart like the figurehead of an old fashioned ship. She clung to the metal cart and squealed with delight.
Sara chuckled. “I’m king of the world,” she quoted.
Nate laughed. It was nice to hear a man laugh with her and in appreciation of her. It’d been a long time since she’d had that. It gave her a warm tingle in her chest. She liked it.
“Do they stock light fittings?” Sara forced herself back to the job at hand. “If you’re going to wire up the place, we’re going to need them.”
“They do.” He nodded and led the way with the cart.
The collection of light fittings was a small one and mainly simple, modern styles. Frosted globes, shaded lamps, and rows and rows of swirl-shaped eco-bulbs. At one end of the aisle was a large, elaborate chandelier, dripping with crystals. It was a beauty and spat little shards of light across the floor like a scattering of diamonds. She stared at it, trying to picture where in the house it might fit. The hall would be too small and it was too ostentatious for the living room. Perhaps over the staircase?
She sighed. “Too expensive anyway, I’m sure.”
As she turned away, her eyes caught something on a lower shelf – a kind of mini chandelier with arms in the shape of vines with flowers at the end to hold the bulbs. Vines again. Perfect.
She reached out for it and Nate did the same. Their fingers touched as they both grabbed it together. The metal of the vines was cool to the touch but Nate’s skin was warm. Sara jerked her hand back, her face red. “Sorry.”
Nate smiled and pulled the light fitting from the shelf. “Great minds think alike. I knew you’d be keen as soon as I saw it.” He lifted it into the cart.
Sara couldn’t help but clap her hands in delight, grinning as Abigail did the same. “Let’s see if they can order in some more in the same style. It’d be great to have them throughout the house.”
“I bet the other lady would like that one too,” said Abigail as they strolled toward the counter.
Sara frowned. “What other lady?” The only other woman she knew in Kowhiowhio was Moana and somehow she didn’t think a decorative light fixture would change that woman’s opinion of her home.
The little girl shrugged. “The one that lived in your house.”
“You mean my grandmother? She hasn’t lived there in years. No one has.”
Abigail tugged at the hem of her jacket and stayed silent.
“Abi had an imaginary friend for a while,” Nate supplied. “She apparently lived in your house.”
“Oh.” Sara stopped walking.
Nate, Abi and the cart carried on a few steps without her before Nate noticed and turned back. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” She swallowed her sense of dread. Yet another strange occurrence connected to the house. Even as she told herself all children have imaginary friends, she had to ask – how many times could she call it a coincidence?
Chapter Fourteen
“I don’t think it’s a date.” Sara paced the living room with the phone pressed to her ear. A collection of sledge hammers, screwdrivers, levels and other tools was piled in the corner like some construction worker version of a game of pick-up-sticks. A single lamp powered by the generator outside kept the room lit despite a gloomy, cloud covered sky outside. Several of the walls had newly installed power sockets, the plastic shiny and out of place in the old décor. Wires hung from the ceiling ready for a light fitting to be installed when it arrived. She was having them sent up from Whangarei.
“It’s a date.” Her grandmother’s voice was adamant.
“But we’ve just been working together. I look after his daughter and he’s helping me with the house. I think it’s a friendly neighbour thing.”
“Any time a man cooks for you, my dear, it’s a date. He sounds nice. Enjoy it. You deserve to have a nice evening with a man and not worry about him hitting you.” Sara wondered if there was a touch of reproach in the old woman’s voice or if she was imagining it. Her grandmother, like everyone else, had wanted her to leave Greg a long time ago. The rest had gradually fallen away, unable or unwilling to be a support. Her grandmother was her only constant.
“But...you don’t think it’s too soon?”
A snort echoed through the phone. “At my age, Sara, there’s no such thing as too soon. Life isn’t about waiting, my dear. You deserve a little happiness and a little fun. If you enjoy his company, there’s no need to deny yourself that.”
She did enjoy his company. These few days of working on the house together had shown her that. She’d found herself looking forward to the few hours Nate could spare from his paying jobs to help her.
Unlike many of the sparkies and builders she’d dealt with back in Auckland, Nate seemed to really respect her opinions and her abilities when it came to renovating the house. He asked questions to clarify what she’d need help with and left her to do the rest without watching or critiquing the job when she was done – something Greg had never been able to stop doing. He even admired her choices and noticed when she’d thought about things like where the best place for lights and plug sockets would be to suit the shape of the room.
On top of that
, he was funny and charming. He had a cute way of talking to himself while he worked and his comments were often extremely witty. She’d smothered laughter on many occasions as he scrambled through the roof laying wires. And it was clear he loved his daughter very much. Working at a kindergarten, she’d seen the dads who just phoned it in, picking up their kids on the way home from work, exhausted or doing their duty for the weekend visitation with the new girlfriend in tow. Nate wasn’t like that. He paid attention to Abigail and listened to her when she talked. It was nice to see.
“How does a man treat children, animals and service staff?” Grandma always said. “That will tell you about his character.” So far, Nate Adams seemed like a good guy.
So far.
“My taste in men is so shit.”
“Nonsense. You made one poor choice and you stuck with it. Perseverance is usually a good thing. Have you learned from your experience?”
Sara exhaled, staring ruefully at the ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”
“Then all is not lost in that pretty little head of yours. It’s okay to get back on the horse, Sara. Just be more aware this time and take care of yourself.”
As she hung up the phone, Sara wondered about her grandmother’s words. There might be a few things lost in her head after all. She hadn’t mentioned the dizzy spells or strange dreams she’d been having to her grandmother for fear of worrying her, but they had both increased as the days went on. Last night, she’d awakened to find herself sleepwalking in the hallway. She’d been on her way to the circular pond she’d found in the bush but, once awake, had no idea why she would go there.
She told herself was the lingering effects of the late term miscarriage and electric shock she’d received but...somehow she felt sure it was more than that. Something was happening to her in this house. Something was here with her.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself. She was letting the ghost stories get to her. That or some sort of post-traumatic stress. It was ridiculous. “What I should be worrying about is what to wear to this dinner.”
