As Beautiful as the Bay

by Serenity Woods

  “Don’t you want to say goodbye to him?” Ginger asked.

  “No, I don’t think he’d want that. I’m done. Best of luck.” Alyssa walked past her toward the car park, and disappeared around the corner.

  Ginger stood there, open mouthed, and she was still standing there when Fred and Sandi walked up beside her.

  “Who was that?” Sandi wanted to know.

  “Sam’s ex, from the ship.” Ginger had told them the little she knew about his life on board the cruise liner, and about his relationship with Alyssa, which she’d assumed was an open one.

  “Holy shit.” Fred stared after her, shocked. “What was she doing here?”

  “She must have read about George’s passing on Facebook or something.”

  “What did she want?” Sandi wanted to know.

  “I’m not sure. I’m guessing she came to see if Sam was interested in starting their relationship up again.”

  Fred raised an eyebrow. “Can I take it by her exit that the answer was no?”

  Ginger hesitated, looking toward Sam, who was still standing at the edge of the vineyard, head bowed. Was he praying? “I think so. She told me that she’d slept with another guy on the ship, and that’s why they broke up.”

  All three of them studied each other.

  “That would do it,” Sandi said.

  Fred looked confused. “Why did she think that would be a good idea?”

  “I think she thought it might make him jealous.”

  “And instead he broke it off?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought they had an open relationship,” Sandi said.

  “So did I,” Ginger replied.

  Fred rolled her eyes. “I would think that hardly ever works. I would think that one party always wants more, and the other agrees with it because they don’t want to lose them completely.”

  “Was Sam faithful to her? Sandi asked.

  Ginger shrugged. “Alyssa didn’t say. He sidestepped the question when I asked him if the relationship was open. He called it casual, which makes me think now that he assumed they were exclusive, even though they hadn’t made a permanent commitment to each other.” It gave her a funny feeling inside to think that he had been faithful to Alyssa. She’d been thinking of him as not caring about commitment, but this, and his words to her about marriage, suggested that, with the right person, he would be very happy to commit.

  The question being, was Ginger the right girl?

  “Alyssa might have really hurt his feelings,” Sandi said.

  “My guess is that, like many guys, he lived for the day, and he hadn’t given much thought to what would happen in the future,” Fred said. “When she slept with someone else, he obviously decided what they had wasn’t as special as he’d thought.”

  “I suppose it’s promising that he didn’t leap at the chance to get back with her,” Sandi said. “Does that mean he’s going to stay in the bay?”

  “I don’t know,” Ginger said softly. “I kind of put my foot in it last night.”

  They both looked concerned. “How?” Fred asked.

  “Well, I asked him to marry me.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “I meant so he could have the money for the business,” Ginger tried to explain, “like you did.”

  “Yeah, but the difference with me and Mac was that we weren’t sleeping together when we agreed. It was a purely business arrangement. In the beginning, anyway.”

  “I meant well. As usual, though, I fucked it up.” Tears came into her eyes. She did her best to blink them away, but the others had seen them.

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” Sandi soothed. “He might have been a bit surprised, but I’m sure after he had time to think about it, he’d have realized what a nice gesture it was.”

  “I don’t know. I suggested he spend the money changing the bakery into a patisserie. I think I probably shouldn’t have said that on the day before his father’s funeral.”

  Fred pulled an eek face. “Maybe not.”

  “Or maybe it was the perfect time,” Sandi said. “Whatever his knee-jerk reaction when you said it, I’m sure it gave him serious food for thought. What’s the point in him rebuilding the bakery exactly the same way it was? What’s that going to prove? Doing something different isn’t going to insult his family or his ancestors. I’m sure the original Samuel Pankhurst, wherever he is, wouldn’t be outraged if his great-great-great-great-grandson, or whatever Sam is, decided to change the bakery. He’d be proud of him for following his heart, or he would if he was worth his salt.”

  “I think you’re right,” Ginger said, “but it’s not what I think that matters. It’s what Sam thinks, and feels.”

  “He obviously has a strong connection to his family and his past,” Fred said, “you could hear that when he was singing. It’s inbuilt in New Zealanders, I think, especially with Maori, and he obviously has Maori blood in him. Their ancestors and their connection to the land are really important.”

  “Well, even if he decided to rebuild the bakery in exactly the same way, that’s a good thing for you, isn’t it?” Sandi asked Ginger. “It’ll mean he’ll stay, won’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’ll eventually make him restless, and he could end up deciding to get someone in to run the place, while he goes off to follow his heart.”

  “You could go with him,” Fred suggested.

  Ginger looked out across the vineyard. “I’ve moved across the world to be here. I love it here. I don’t want to leave. I want to work on the restaurant and win the Gold Food Award next year. I want to make it into something special.”

  Her gaze slid across to where Sam stood. Her stomach did a little flip at the sight of him, his hands in his pockets, smiling at the sight of Mac walking over to him. “I’m crazy about him,” she whispered, “but he has to feel the same way to make this work.” She bit her lip. “Do you remember the day Dad left?”

  Sandi and Fred exchanged a glance. Ginger had been three—Sandi and Fred had been at school. Their mother had forgotten to pick them up, so the school had phoned their father. “What do you remember?” Fred asked.

  “I remember Dad coming home with you two. I’d been asleep, and when I woke up, there was a stranger in the room with Mum. Dad yelled at them both, and the other guy ran out. Dad told Mum he was leaving. I remember her screaming at him to stay. Screaming and screaming.”

  Louise Cartwright had suffered from bipolar disorder, and Fred had spent most of her life looking after her, only for Louise to take her own life. All three girls felt betrayed by her, and the wound was still too raw for them to talk about it much.

  “I’m never going to be like that,” Ginger said with some bitterness. “I told him I didn’t want him to go. If he doesn’t want to be here, with me, I’m not going to beg him.”

  “That’s fair enough,” Fred said softly. She gave her sister a hug. “I hope he chooses to stay.”

  “Only time will tell.” Ginger glanced around. “I’m going to start tidying up in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t you want another glass of wine?” Fred asked. “Come and sit and have a chat with some of us.” Someone, Mac probably, had put some music on, and quiet folksy jazz was floating out of the restaurant. Some of the conversation drifted down—they were telling stories about George and the bakery, shedding tears and laughing at the same time.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” Ginger kissed her sister on the cheek. “Thanks for the chat.”

  “You sure you’re all right?” Sandi asked. “I know you were fond of George.”

  “I was, he was a nice old man. But I wish he’d been more open to new ideas, and more thoughtful toward his son. Sam has suffered a lot because of the way George treated him, and I don’t know if he’ll ever get over that.”

  The three girls had a hug, because there was nothing else to say, and then Ginger picked up a couple of empty plates and went into the kitchen.

  She stacked the dishwasher, cleaned the cen
tral table, and then leaned against it, looking out across the Pacific Ocean. This was her home, her turangawaewae. It was her father’s land, handed down to her and her sisters, and she didn’t want to leave it now she’d found it.

  She didn’t want to lose Sam, either. He filled part of her heart she’d thought frozen over, lost to the world. He’d been so gentle with her, so loving. Dad, she thought, if you’re there, let him find the answer. Let him stay, and let him be happy.

  The wind blew dry leaves in a whirl outside the window, and then they were gone.

  She turned back to the kitchen, and blinked away her tears. She didn’t feel like joining the others. She wanted to think of George and pay her respects in her own way.

  Her lips beginning to curve up, she drew a carton of flour out of the cupboard, and began weighing it out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “How are you doing?” Mac bent to examine the vine in front of them. He turned over a leaf and stroked it in way that reminded Sam of how other men stroked a woman’s cheek. It made him smile.

  “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

  “Who was the girl?” Mac wanted to know.

  “Alyssa.”

  Mac turned to stare at him. “Shit. Really?” He studied Sam thoughtfully. “Why did she come?”

  “To pass on her condolences. And I think she was hoping I’d be interested in getting back together.”

  “What did you say?”

  Sam looked out to sea again, toying with how to reply.

  He’d never told anyone what had happened on the ship. When he’d first hooked up with Alyssa, it had been a spur of the moment thing. It had been Christmas Day. They’d finished a shift and had both had too much to drink to celebrate the day. They’d ended up in her cabin, and had passed a few hours in a most agreeable way. He’d assumed it was a one-night stand, but a week or so later, she’d come on to him again. Young, single, and carefree, he wasn’t about to turn down free sex with a pretty girl. A second date soon led to a third, and before he knew it, they were seeing each other once or twice a week.

  Sam hadn’t given the relationship a lot of thought. They’d never discussed where it was going, and he hadn’t really had any interest in discussing it. He liked Alyssa a lot—she was fun and sexy, and maybe somewhere deep in the back of his mind he’d pictured them off the ship together, possibly even back in Blue Penguin Bay. But not at the time. He’d loved his job on board ship and he’d been happy to stay there for a few years. But he hadn’t dated anyone else, and in his opinion, they’d been a couple, which meant they were exclusive.

  Then one night, after they’d made love, she’d started asking him questions about where it was going. Did he see them together in the future? Did he think they’d ever get married? Sam had brushed them aside with some impatience. They were both young, he’d said. They had their whole lives ahead of them. Why did they have to worry about forever?

  Alyssa had stormed off, furious at his lack of interest in their relationship. In the manner of a true single bloke, he’d rolled his eyes, turned over, and gone to sleep.

  Then, the next morning, a friend on the ship told him that Alyssa had been seen drinking in the bar with a passenger, and they’d left together. Sam confronted her, and she admitted they’d slept together.

  He couldn’t have been more shocked. He’d thought they were a couple, and he’d been faithful to her for three years. That she could do something like that and ruin what they had in one night had stunned him.

  “Why do you look so fucking surprised?” she’d yelled at him, tears streaming down her face. “You’ve never even said you love me.”

  He’d thought about that often over the past year. Why had he never said he loved her? Had he loved her? He’d been fond of her. He’d been faithful. So why, when she’d pushed him to make a commitment, had he backed away? Was it because he’d been anti-commitment, a wanderer, a man afraid to settle down?

  Or was it because she hadn’t been the right girl?

  Scully, Mac’s German Shepherd dog, had joined them at the edge of the vines, and Sam bent to stroke her head. “Ginger asked me to marry her last night,” he admitted.

  He straightened and met Mac’s eyes. The two of them gave a wry smile.

  “For the money,” Sam clarified. “Like you and Fred.”

  Mac tipped his head to the side. “You sure that’s all it was?”

  “We’ve only been going out a few weeks.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve known each other since they came here.”

  “True.”

  “What did you say?” Mac wanted to know.

  “I don’t think I gave her an answer as such, but I think she got the gist of it.”

  “The answer being no?”

  “I didn’t agree with what you did at the time,” Sam pointed out. “I’m glad it turned out well for you, but I think you were lucky.”

  “You could argue that you’ve got a head start,” Mac said, “because the two of you are already in a relationship, and doing well, by all accounts.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Maybe not. What is the point?”

  Sam sighed and dug at the earth with his heel. “She thinks if I rebuild the bakery, I’ll grow dissatisfied with life here, and I’ll end up leaving.”

  “I think she’s right.”

  “She said she doesn’t want me to go.”

  “None of us do. We want you to stay, and to be happy.”

  “Don’t you think I owe it to my father and to my family to rebuild the bakery the way it was?”

  Mac pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t presume to tell any man what to do on the day of his father’s funeral. But I will say this. We all try to please our parents. It’s built into us. But look at me. I was never going to please my father. I don’t know why. I think sometimes our parents look at us and see their own failings. It’s possible your father was jealous of you—travelling the world, meeting people, doing all those wonderful things. The older generation didn’t always have the opportunities we have. Perhaps he would have done the same as you, if he’d been able.”

  Sam had never thought of it like that. “Maybe.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “He always managed to make me feel as if I wasn’t good enough. That I would never have been as good as Ian.”

  “It’s easy to say that, isn’t it? Because Ian could never have proven otherwise. He’ll always remain the perfect son. The truth is probably that George would like to have done more with the business, made it bigger, maybe, branched out, but perhaps he didn’t have the finances to do so.”

  “Or the courage.”

  Mac didn’t say anything.

  Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s all right. There’s no one here but me, mate.”

  Tears pricked Sam’s eyes. “Even so... shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Mac studied the vine again, picking off a few dead leaves. “When a person dies, it doesn’t make them into a saint. George was a great guy, larger than life, funny, warm, and friendly, and we’ll all miss him. But he wasn’t perfect, and there’s no sin in thinking that. He was only human, and he had weaknesses and foibles the same as the rest of us.”

  Sam wiped his face and blew out a long breath as he gathered his composure. Mac carried on examining the vines, while Scully snuffled amongst the leaves. Laughter carried across to him from the people talking. His dad would have liked that, he thought, people remembering him with smiles on their faces. He knew he should turn and go back up to them, but he so rarely confided in anyone like this, especially another guy. He felt like a soldier must have felt when, wounded on a battlefield, a friend stopped to bandage him up and carry him to safety.

  “It was so weird,” he admitted, “Alyssa turning up today. It made me realize how much I’ve changed.”

  Mac straightened and tossed the dead leaves away. “In what way?”

  “I don’t want to sound pretent
ious, but I think I found myself, you know?”

  “What makes you think that would sound pretentious?”

  They both smiled.

  Sam scratched his cheek. “I meant that I’ve grown up, I suppose. You spend your youth avoiding commitment and responsibility, don’t you? Running as fast as you can in the opposite direction. And then suddenly, it’s not as frightening anymore. Settling down in one place, having a family...”

  “Are we still talking about Alyssa?”

  “No. I’ll always be fond of her, but it was never going to be a long-term thing. I’ve only just realized that. I never felt about her in three years the way I feel about Ginger after only two weeks.”

  He met Mac’s gaze, and they both smiled.

  “That’s a start,” Mac said.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So when’s the wedding?” Mac asked. He grinned as if expecting Sam to roll his eyes, but Sam just looked at him thoughtfully. “Have you changed your mind?” Mac asked, his eyebrows rising.

  “I don’t know. Even if I had, I couldn’t take her money. She said she’d see it as an investment in the bakery, but I still couldn’t do it. And besides... if I’m really honest with myself, she’s right. I don’t want to rebuild the bakery the way it was.”

  He hesitated, wondering if the sky would crack apart and his father would throw down shards of lightning at him like Zeus. But the sun continued to shine, the breeze to blow the leaves across the grass.

  “Do you believe in heaven?” he asked Mac.

  Mac tipped his head from side to side. “Science tells us that energy cannot be destroyed. I like to think a person’s soul lives on in some form or other.”

  Sam frowned. Was his father still around, watching him? Was he in the wind stirring the leaves on the vines? Maybe his soul had travelled to Cape Reinga, in Maori tradition, to the ancient pohutukawa tree, where it would slide down a root into the sea, and return to Hawaiiki-A-Nui, the land of their ancestors. Or maybe he was in the Christian Heaven, sitting at Jesus’ table, and he would meet Sam one day at the gates of St. Peter. There was no way of knowing. All Sam did know was that he was now alone, and it felt pointless to spend the rest of his life trying to please his father. The world wasn’t going to end if he followed his heart.