Tree Change

by Cooper, Tea

  “The house sold,” he said, his excitement tangible. It nestled somewhere beneath her ribs. “We should celebrate. It is the beginning, a new beginning.”

  Celebrate.

  It was the last thing she wanted to do. She gently let go of his hand, and he moved it back to the steering wheel.

  A new beginning.

  Indeed it was, but she must be strong. It was a beginning that didn’t include her. What about Madeleine? She didn’t want to know the answer, dreaded it. But just for tonight, for one last night, she would put it all behind her and enjoy his company.

  One last time.

  Typical luck. Typical Jake. He managed to park the car only a few meters away from the Stockade. The shiny red door tucked into the old convict-hewn stone was just as she remembered it. Jake rapped his knuckles against it and walked inside. The sonorous tones of the bluesy music wafted up the stairs. Her hand settled comfortably in his as he led the way down the narrow staircase. Nothing had changed; the dark timber bar glowed in the subdued lighting, and the intimate tables were grouped around the stage.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked, dropping her hand and leaning against the bar. “The usual?”

  She nodded, turning to watch the saxophone player. The smooth richness of the music seemed to reach deep inside her.

  “They’ll bring the drinks to the table.” Jake’s voice brought her back to the moment, and she took his hand as he led her to an empty table tucked into a corner. The framed posters from years gone by stared down at her. So many memories, so many stories to tell, all locked up in faded faces.

  “Here.” Jake pulled a chair out for her, and she sat down.

  “Thanks.” The intimate atmosphere wrapped around them. She wriggled out of her oversize cardigan, and a waiter appeared and placed the two flutes of champagne on the table.

  Jake leaned forward, the smooth, clean line of his cheek close enough to touch. His lean, strong fingers cradling the base of the wineglass. Her breath caught as his gaze locked on hers. Mere inches separated them. He smelled so good, fresh and clean as an ocean storm. The urge to move closer was almost unbearable.

  “To the Shack!” He held out his glass, and she raised hers. The chink of glass on glass melded into the music.

  “The Shack,” she echoed. The bubbles from the dry champagne vibrated in her throat as she swallowed. Her mind was blank, numb.

  “Cass?” Jake’s voice broke through the fog.

  “Hmm?”

  He was standing up next to her, hand outstretched. “Let’s dance.”

  She stood, bemused, and took his hand. He led her down the three wooden steps to the small, crowded dance floor and pulled her close.

  “It’s good to have you back in my arms.”

  The air escaped in a rush from her lungs. She must have been holding her breath for a long, long time. With a sigh, she rested her head below his shoulder.

  Just one more time, for old time’s sake. Another memory to file away.

  Below her ear, his heart beat strongly, and she could feel the buttons on his shirt through the thin cotton of her dress as if there were no space between them. His body was so familiar. Her throat ached with unexpected emotion, and tears sprang to her eyes. They were so perfect together.

  “Better?” he murmured into her ear. His deep, soft voice enveloped her. They moved slowly to the music, their bodies fitting together seamlessly, his legs surrounded by her flared skirt. “I’ll always be here for you.” His husky voice echoed in her heart. “No matter what happens. Just trust me. We’ll work it out.”

  His words washed over her and became part of the lyrics of the song floating around them. For that moment, she reveled in being held. She could feel the beat of his heart, or was it hers? The music pulsed. She gave herself up to the sensation of being in his arms once more.

  “I never intended to let you go.”

  A whisper of breath touched her forehead, and she looked up at him. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he gave a slight shake of his head. She breathed carefully and evenly as his mouth drifted down on hers. Their lips touched, soft, subtle, and tender. Jake didn’t demand; he offered, offered the very sensation she hadn’t known she missed, longed for. The soft whisper of his lips drew her in, invited her back. Exquisite. This was where she was meant to be. Nothing else mattered except being in Jake’s arms. She was consumed. The promise of so much more. Her body fluid, she wrapped her arms around his neck to return his kiss. As their lips met, rightness and desire blossomed until they filled her.

  A smile traced her lips. She leaned back against his arms and stared up at him. At his iridescent green eyes—shards of broken glass swept in by the tide. She swayed against him. Half in a daze, her heart pounding, and her lips numb, she allowed herself to sink into the fathomless jade depths of his eyes.

  And stopped.

  Her heart faltered.

  The cold hand of reason clutched at her, and she pushed against him. Those startlingly familiar green eyes that had stared down from Madeleine’s portrait were staring deep into her own. She had to confirm it, she had to hear it from his lips, even though she knew the truth, and she resented it with every fiber of her being. He was the father of Madeleine’s child.

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she jerked back from him. Her face burned with anger and humiliation. One last memory, what a fool she was. How dare he manipulate her, play on her weakness, use her? And why, after eighteen months, did she lack the willpower to resist him? She wrenched herself from his arms and stumbled to the table.

  Caught up in his excitement, his enthusiasm, she had let down her guard. He’d made his decision when he chose Madeleine. There was no way she would be his other woman. There was no way she was going to put up with his halfhearted explanations and excuses. She didn’t owe him anything. He’d made his choices. He wasn’t the man she had thought he was. He had sold out, cashed in her love and his principles.

  ***

  Aggravated, Jake raked a hand through his hair and followed Cassia back to the table. What was happening? One minute she had been kissing him, the next she was gone, physically and emotionally. He could still feel the warmth of her body. She’d clung to him, returning his kiss with a passion and longing matching his own, and then this…

  “Perhaps we should go.” Cassia’s quiet whisper, the expression in her eyes, made the breath catch in his throat. She wanted to go.

  Why? They were alone together for the first time in months. The old attraction was still there, as strong as ever.

  “Cass, are you all right?”

  She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand, but her eyes betrayed her. He knew her too well. The burn of hurt behind their velvety depths had nothing to do with the here and now, but everything to do with what had gone before. His fault. Lyle’s fault. No one’s fault. Just circumstance.

  “No, no, I’m not. I need answers, and I need them now. I can’t go on like this. Either we are together or we are not. You have to make a choice: Madeleine or me. I can’t be a convenience you can pick up and put down as the mood takes you.”

  “My feelings for you, Cass, are a million things, but convenient isn’t one of them.” He shook his head in sorrowful disbelief. How could she not recognize the bond they had?

  “Madeleine?” Her raised eyebrows challenged him.

  “Right now I can’t explain what happened with Madeleine, but her safety is paramount.”

  Her body shuddered as if she were trying to lift a great weight. What was he doing to her? Madeleine, Madeleine, always Madeleine. “I can’t do this again, Jake. I need to go home.”

  Jake slipped her cardigan over her frail shoulders and then stepped back to allow her to lead the way past the bar and up the narrow stairs to street level.

  He unlocked the car door and held it open. Her skirt caught on the ribbons of her espadrille. As he leaned down to untangle them, she flinched. He closed the car door with exaggerated care and walked around to the
driver’s door and let himself in. He clicked his seat belt into its clasp before he twisted the key in the ignition. The engine sprang to life, and he pulled out into the darkened street.

  “You have to trust me, Cass. I know it is difficult, but you just have to trust me and wait. Everything will be sorted out soon.”

  Her sigh filled the car. “Jake, I can’t. How can I? I’ve tried and look where we’ve ended up. Me in Sydney, and you living with your brother’s girlfriend.”

  “Wife,” he corrected, regretting the word the moment it left his lips.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A blanket of silence filled the car. It was palpable. Jake could touch it, feel it suffocating him. His breathing slowed, and time stood still. The red traffic light registered through his subconscious, and he slowed the car to a halt. It had started to rain, and the road surface was slick and black, the streetlights reflecting shattered pinpoints of light. Large raindrops bounced on the hood of the car. He glanced across at Cassia. Her eyes looked big and bruised in her pale face as she stared through the windshield, focused on some space beyond.

  Making a left-hand turn, he slowed the car, the tires bouncing on the old cobblestones of the access way. The Harbour Bridge hung, cold and dark, across the black night sky of the bay. The red and green navigation lights flickered their warning to the ships passing underneath. As Jake stopped outside the last apartment at the end of the wharf, Cassia opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

  “Good night.”

  “Cassia, wait! Get back into the car for a moment; you are getting wet.”

  “No, Jake. I can’t keep going around in circles. I’ll arrange to have someone collect the driftwood.”

  “Cass, darling.” He saw her flinch again. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do.” She was stubborn, always had been, and he knew better than to try and change her mind.

  “I can still bring the wood next time I come down to Sydney.”

  “Thank you. Good night.”

  The car door slammed shut. He watched as she walked to the foyer and inserted the security card, her fragility pulling at his heartstrings. She disappeared into the elevator, and he closed his eyes, the disappointment washing over him like a cloudburst. He sat outside until her studio lights came on, and he could see her standing at the huge picture window, gazing at the Harbour Bridge, the warning lights flashing across her face. He could tell she was shivering. With a muttered curse, he pulled out onto the wet road and drove slowly back over the cobblestones and headed for the freeway.

  Why had Cassia’s mood changed so abruptly? Then he had made the monumental blunder. The word “wife” had jumped out of his mouth. The truth had a way of doing that. It had seemed much easier and safer to let everyone suppose that he had taken up with his brother’s girlfriend, and he had simply forgotten Cassia didn’t know of Lyle and Madeleine’s marriage. The only consolation in the whole sorry mess was the knowledge she still cared enough to ask the questions. At least before his gaffe tonight, he had thought she did. It was a mess, a bloody awful mess, and he had to sort it out before it was too late.

  There was nothing—no one—he wanted more than Cassia. Her mercurial moods were as much a part of her as her delicate looks and her creative temperament. Time was running out. He’d pushed her to the limits, and if he didn’t explain soon, her overactive imagination was going to fill in the blanks, and it would be too late for them. The court case was so close to completion, but would it be soon enough for Cassia? Soon enough to save the crumbled remains of their relationship?

  He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the hypnotic movement of the windshield wipers and focus on the drive home.

  ***

  Cassia pulled herself up through the dark tunnel of sleep toward the pale morning light, struggling from the muddle of drop sheets wrapped around her cramped limbs. Crawling to her feet, she steadied herself against the daybed and pulled her soft cashmere shawl around her shoulders. Shivering, she tried to block the memory of the previous night. Her throat was dry, and she stumbled into the kitchen to fill the kettle with water. Tea. Her father had always said tea was the best thing for shock.

  She craved tea. Strong, sweet tea and Jake. His image was imprinted on her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t clear it. The water slopped onto the kitchen bench as she filled the kettle. Waves of fatigue washed over her. She flicked the switch and supported herself against the bench top, staring out to the harbor, exhaustion turning her limbs to lead.

  All she wanted to do was forget. Forget about Jake. Forget about Madeleine. Forget about the Shack. Close the book on their relationship and move on. But last night…the heat suffused her face. She had been lulled by his irresistible charisma and had fallen straight back into his arms—again. Over the last eighteen months, she had moved on and been able to push Jake into a safe place in a corner of her heart, but ever since she had stepped onto the sand and looked up at the Shack, she had opened a box of forgotten memories and the images had come flooding out in colors far brighter and more intense than she remembered.

  The high-pitched whistle of the kettle pierced the fog in her brain, and she grimaced as she tipped the boiling water over the crumpled tea bag, ignoring the water slopping over the edge of the mug and pooling on the bench. Thoughts whirled around in her mind; it had all been so unexpected. One glance into his deep green eyes had swept away eighteen months of abstinence, and she had fallen back into his embrace like a relapsed addict.

  She was a fool. One sight, one smell, one taste, and she was lost. Right back where she had been before. The glass jar bounced on the bench as she ladled teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into the mug.

  If only I hadn’t gone to the beach… If only I hadn’t gone to the auction… If only I hadn’t danced with him. If only to all of those things.

  The syrupy liquid sloshed around in the mug.

  Wait a moment.

  The flash of awareness was more blinding than the unforgiving morning sun, and she narrowed her eyes.

  If I hadn’t done those things, I wouldn’t even know the truth.

  Whatever happened to the man who was going to fight the developers? He’d sold out. What had happened to the man she thought loved her? He’d taken his brother’s wife to his bed, and they had sealed their relationship with a child.

  A child I wasn’t good enough to carry.

  Cassia sank down onto the daybed, clasping the mug of tea to her breast. Not only that, now he was two-timing Madeleine. Making promises he couldn’t keep. Did Madeleine know the games he was playing?

  She gulped down the scalding tea. As the sugar hit her bloodstream, a surge of energy coursed through her. She pushed the shawl from her shoulders.

  Work.

  She needed to work. She needed to create something, to plug the cavernous hollow where her heart had once been.

  She kicked her way across the room through the strips of metal lying next to her welder. Lifting one, she turned it over and over in her hands. Her forgotten tea mug rolled under the daybed. She kept prodding the pile of metal with her foot, searching, searching for something that seemed to elude her. A piece of recycled chain rested against the daybed. Heaving the cold links into an empty space on the floor, the huge jigsaw puzzle began to take shape in her mind as a wave of creative energy overtook her.

  Backward and forward she slithered, picking and placing, placing and picking. Her mind cleared, and she stood up, stretching.

  Got it.

  In her mind’s eye she could see what the mismatched pieces would become.

  Jake would—the thought flitted through her mind, and she pushed it aside. She would think about him another day. Today she wanted to build something, to create something out of the shambles her life had become since her trip to the beach.

  She gave the metal a hard shove, the jolting crash as it came to rest next to a packing case boosting her courage. She knew now what she was going to create, and
she knew exactly how she was going to do it.

  Filled with explosive enthusiasm, Cassia hurried to the shower, stripping off her crumpled cardigan and floral tea dress. The needles of steaming water cascaded through her hair and down her body, enlivening her. The jasmine fragrance of her shampoo replaced the smell of the ocean—Jake’s fragrance. Flicking off the tap, she grabbed a towel and roughly massaged her skin until it was dry and pulled on a clean pair of three-quarter black leggings and a T-shirt and clambered into her favorite dungarees, eager to start work.

  She could see her finished sculpture even before she picked up the first piece of metal—not a driftwood heart this time, but a huge rusted metal heart made from the recycled remains of the old wharf chains, steel cables, and balustrades. It would be the perfect transition from driftwood to metal, from Coastal Renaissance to Urban Nemesis. The centerpiece for her new exhibition. She would breathe new life into the rejects of the past. With a flurry of enthusiasm, she set up the block and tackle to support the metal frame as she welded it into place—her mind clear of Jake for the first time in days.

  ***

  The last piece of metal slotted into place. It was finished. The remaining solder puddled, and Cassia stepped back, examining her work critically. The final weld hung on the clasp like a full stop. Yes, a full stop. She left it. She might as well have written “The End,” because it was. She searched for her usual feeling of accomplishment, but instead a clamminess hung over her. A day on the beach, the wind whipping up the waves, could blow away this pall of confusion hanging over her.

  In the fading light, Cassia removed the tight welding helmet from her head and shook out her hair. She ran her fingers across her scalp, massaging her head, the stress and tension ebbing, leaving her with a feeling of lightheadedness, and finally calm and satisfaction.

  Stretching and rolling her shoulders, she studied the enormous locket.

  Not bad. Not bad at all.

  The muted sound of a ringing phone startled her. It seemed to come from far away, muffled and blurred. She followed the noise, pushing her hand under the cushions of the daybed, and grabbed her phone just as the ringing stopped. Dialing her answering service, she listened to the messages.